Gladiator Spirit

I've finally seen them in person now–the "Eyes of The Victorious"--they're finally beginning to awaken, aren't they? Though I doubt Touma Daigo himself is knowledgeable of his own eyes…Let's just watch for now, the man thought.

Before any could even register the man's existence, he was gone from the establishment.

With the flash of blows coming his way, he was pushed to the limits of his improving body, being sent past his rusty form.

SWOOSH.

This time, it sailed directly towards him–the fist dressed in black–shattering the air around it as it aimed for his face.

Being brought so close to meeting the devastating force that the "Ogre" boasted, his fighting reflexes surpassed all other functions as he spun around into his own counter.

"Let's end this for now."

–Just then, the words from Chimon fell out just as the heavy right hook came to a stop, unleashing a hefty wind pressure as the young man's silver locks were rustled.

At the same time, the kick he had sent directly aimed for the man's chin stopped just mere centimeters from landing.

"--"

His golden eyes were still wide with the exchange stopping just short of an explosive shift. After his fighting instincts settled, he lowered his leg and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Damn, you're just as good as I remember–and you say you're rusty? I didn't hit you once. Hell, maybe I'm the rusty one," Chimon said with a chuckle.

The owner of the gym set his gloves over the rope, having one of the trainees unstrap his black gloves for him.

"Maybe it's because I have these wimps as my only competition around here," Chimon laughed, ruffling the young member's hair.

He chuckled, accepting a water bottle handed to him as he gulped it down and sat himself down just outside of the ring.

"...You were still holding out on me," he said with a small smile.

"--" Chimon was silent for a moment, sitting beside him as he slicked his sweaty hair back to its proper state, "If I started out as one-hundred percent, you wouldn't learn a damn thing if I laid you out right off the bat."

"You think you would?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Heh," Chimon smiled, "What's got ya' back into the game, anyway? As far as I, and a lot of the fighters around here, were concerned, ya' were laying low and getting your studies done."

He sat there for a moment, drinking from the water bottle as the brisk aqua ran down his dry throat, quenching it.

"I'm entering the Celestial Fist," he told the man.

Chimon's eyes widened a bit, "The Celestial Fist Tournament?"

He nodded, "I got a personal invitation from an Overseer."

"Sheesh," Chimon whistled, drinking from his own bottle, "No wonder. Those are the big leagues there, friend. That's a lot of money on the line, too. You'd be set for life."

"Money is a factor, but…" He smiled, looking down at his fists that trembled, "...When I think of all the amazing fighters that will be there, I can't stop shaking."

Chimon smiled, noticing the excitement that was surging through the golden-eyed young man as he wiped the sweat from his face with a towel.

"Looks like I've got an extra ten-thousand yen in my pocket," Chimon said.

"Huh?"

Chimon looked at him, "I made a bet with Kenji that you'd be back to your old self within two years."

"Really?" He sighed wryly.

"Ha-ha!" Chimon laughed, patting him on the back, "Don't be disappointed! This is a good thing! You're a fighter–through and through–more than me or anybody else I've known."

"Honestly…the main thing that has me fired up is…Gento is going to be in this tournament," he admitted.

The boisterous former champion of the boxing world fell silent for a moment at the mention of that name, sipping from his water bottle.

"Gento, huh? Never liked that guy," Chimon said quietly.

"Well, he's the only one who has ever beat–no, he humiliated me…" He said quietly, squeezing his fists, "but this time–it's different. I'm stronger, and I'll be even better."

Chimon sat beside him in silence for a minute, sipping water and wiping the sweat from his body with a towel.

"You know, I had a rival of my own back in the day," Chimon said.

"Stop talking as if you're some old timer. You only retired a few years ago," he said with a small laugh.

Chimon smiled, "Feels like an eternity to me. I was used to all of that fame–the spotlights beaming down on me, the crowd roaring for me when I landed a knockout punch, and the cheers I got when I triumphantly walked back…It feels like it was in a different life now."

"--"

He knew what the former champion was talking about. Compared to a normal, everyday life, the path of fame, recognition, and glory was something unmatched in excitement.

"Anyway…" Chimon continued, "All of that was at its peak during my rivalry with that man–'Kaimetsu, The Colossus"; that guy was something else. It was the first time I ever felt small–can you believe that?"

"No, not really," he laughed, sipping his water.

"Well, I did. Kaimetsu was a monster. He had won matches before by knocking his opponents out through their guard. Unheard of," Chimon raised his arms, displaying his scarred forearms to the young man, "--How did you think I got these trophies?"

"...Always assumed you got cut up," he said, looking at the man's scarred forearms.

Chimon laughed, "Ha-ha! Nope. That guy is responsible for doing this."

"Are you kidding me?!" He looked in disbelief.

By the way the scars were etched across the burly forearms of the ex-champion, it wouldn't have been far-fetched to believe a lion had mauled him.

"That's why our deciding match was dubbed 'The Bloody Summit'," Chimon smiled, "Kaimetsu punched so damn hard he tore my forearms apart."

"Yet, you still managed to win," he said.

"I clinched out the victory, hell yeah, I did–I was covered in blood of my own and his by the end, but damn did I feel like a gladiator," Chimon smirked.

The shine in the veteran boxer's azure eyes as they looked forward were clearly reliving that epic bout in his mind.

"Fights like that–fights that require one-hundred-and-fifty percent, and only then do you win by a hair…that's what I'm excited about from the Celestial Fist," he said, clenching his fist

"That's the spirit! Round two?" Chimon asked loudly, standing up.

Though his body was still burning from the intense test of endurance, he stood up to his feet, nodding, "You bet."

It was this same training regimen that stretched across the next week; Chimon had no problem training him as hard as he wanted, and for as long as he could go.