Growing-up

I woke up in the hospital, my body aching from the confrontation. Every part of me hurt, a constant reminder of the encounter with my father—Yuujiro Hanma. My mind raced as I tried to replay what had happened, but all I could really remember was the overwhelming power, the feeling of helplessness, and then… darkness.

As I shifted in the hospital bed, wincing at the sharp pain in my side, my thoughts started to settle. I had to face it: this world was different, and I wasn't going to survive in it if I didn't take things seriously. I'd been reborn into Baki Hanma's body, with all the promise and potential that came with it. But I wasn't a typical child, not by any means. Not in this world of martial arts monsters. And especially not with him as my father.

If I wanted any hope of surviving—of protecting myself from Yuujiro, of ever standing a chance against him—I had to stop drifting. I had to take my training seriously. No more half-hearted attempts. No more relying on natural strength alone.

This was my life now. And I needed to take control of it.

My muscles protested as I tried to sit up, the pain still sharp, but I forced myself to stay focused. Martial arts—I needed to start learning the real techniques of combat. This body was already strong, but brute strength would only get me so far, especially against someone like Yuujiro. I needed more than strength. I needed skill.

I'd seen the trainers my mother had hired. They were competent, sure, but they weren't the kind of people who could truly push me to my limits. Emi, for all her obsession with making me strong, had overlooked a crucial aspect: the quality of my training. She had hired the best instructors, but not the best martial artists. In a world where martial artists were legends, she hadn't thought of bringing in people like Doppo Orochi, Gouki Shibukawa, or Izou Motobe—men who could teach me more than just how to be strong. They could teach me how to be a fighter.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized this was what I needed. Emi would probably be thrilled if I asked her for more serious trainers—people who could hone my natural abilities into something unstoppable. I knew she wouldn't hesitate for a second if I mentioned the names of Japan's most revered martial artists.

Despite the pain, a flicker of determination sparked inside me. I wasn't going to wait for fate to play out anymore. If I was to become Baki Hanma, I would make the choices that mattered. I wasn't going to be a passive bystander in this life, waiting for Yuujiro to crush me. I would train. I would learn. And one day, I would be able to face him.

Emi pov

Yuujiro had just left the mansion, and the house felt strangely quiet in his absence, though the air still crackled with the intensity of his presence. My heart was racing, my thoughts swirling with excitement. He came home. The man who embodied strength itself, the man I was utterly devoted to, had finally come to see his son. And Baki—my precious Baki—had reacted exactly the way I had hoped. He didn't cower. He didn't hide. He had faced Yujiro with the fire of a true fighter, even if it had been brief.

I could still see the image in my mind, Baki struggling in Yujiro's grip, kicking and fighting back despite the overwhelming power difference. It didn't matter that he was a child. What mattered was that he didn't give in. He showed Yuujiro that he had the spirit of a warrior. He showed me that all the training I had pushed him through wasn't for nothing. He would grow into someone even Yuujiro would respect.

I smiled to myself, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over me. I knew Yuujiro was pleased too. He didn't say it, but I could see it in his eyes—the spark of recognition that our son, even at such a young age, had the potential to stand against him. It was only the beginning, but it was enough to fuel my desire to make Baki even stronger.

Yuujiro had left with a promise. "I'll come back in one year," he had said, his voice as unshakable as ever. "By then, he better be ready to train with me." The words sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't just a casual remark—it was a challenge, both to Baki and to me. I knew Yuujiro expected nothing less than perfection from his son, and that meant it was up to me to make sure Baki was ready when the time came.

One year.

I would have one year to mold Baki into the kind of fighter who could begin to stand under Yuujiro's gaze, the kind of son who wouldn't be crushed by his father's sheer presence. The thought both thrilled and terrified me. Yuujiro was a force unlike any other, and for Baki to even begin to match him... it was going to take everything I had.

But I wasn't afraid. I was excited.

I had always known that raising Baki to be strong would require sacrifice, both from me and from him. But seeing that brief encounter between father and son—it ignited something in me. I had no doubts anymore. I would push Baki harder than ever. He wouldn't just grow into a strong child; he would grow into a warrior. A true Hanma. And I would be the one to ensure it.

"Hitoshi," I called, summoning my assistant into the room. He entered quietly, as he always did, ready to attend to my every command. "We need to accelerate Baki's training. We have one year."

Hitoshi's eyes widened for a brief moment, and I could see the surprise flicker across his face. He knew the weight of my words. bowing his head. "Yes, Madam. I'll make the arrangements immediately."

As he left the room, I sat down, the excitement still thrumming through my veins. I could hardly wait to see what the next year would bring. Yuujiro would return, and when he did, Baki would be ready. He would be strong enough to stand in the same room as his father without faltering. And when that day came, I would finally see the look in Yuujiro's eyes—the look of recognition, of pride.

I had one year to make Baki into the warrior Yujiro wanted him to be. And I would make sure it happened, no matter what it took.

…

I was still sore when my mother came to get me from the hospital. Every muscle ached, a dull reminder of my encounter with Yujiro—my father, the so-called "Strongest Creature on Earth." The pain wasn't just physical; there was a lingering sense of fear, something deep and primal that had stirred the moment I saw him. Even as a baby, I felt like prey in the presence of a predator.

My mother, Emi, on the other hand, was beaming. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and I could feel her energy radiating off her as she moved toward me. She was happy. Why? Because I had fought back. Because I had shown Yuujiro, in my own feeble way, that I wasn't going to just submit to his overwhelming power. That reaction—my refusal to cower—was all she needed to double down on her obsession to make me stronger.

As we left the hospital, her words echoed in my mind. "You will train harder from now on." She said it so casually, as if it was a simple decision—like flipping a switch. "I know you can do it, Baki. That was your father, Yuujiro Hanma—the 'Strongest Creature on Earth.' The one you will fight."

The way she said it made my stomach drop. My childhood felt like it had already ended. Maybe it never really began. I was barely a year old, and already, my future had been decided. I was destined to fight Yuujiro. The thought made my head spin. How could I ever face someone like him? He was a monster, and I was just a child. But there was no point in arguing. I had to prepare. I had to become stronger.

Stronger.

That word haunted me. And if I was going to survive this life—if I was going to live up to the expectations of both Emi and Yuujiro—I needed more than just basic trainers. I needed real martial artists. People who knew how to fight at the highest level. People who could turn my raw potential into something capable of facing monsters like Yuujiro.

We arrived back at the mansion, and I finally gathered the courage to speak up. My voice, though small, carried a weight of determination. "If you want me to train, get me real martial artists—like Doppo Orochi, Gouki Shibukawa, or Izou Motobe. They know how to fight."

There was a moment of silence, an awkward pause that seemed to stretch on forever. I wondered if I had overstepped, if maybe I had asked for too much too soon. I knew how obsessive my mother could be, but this... this felt like a challenge to her authority, and I wasn't sure how she would take it.

But then, to my surprise, she smiled. That strange, unsettling smile that she only seemed to wear when she was thinking about Yuujiro or my future. Without a word to me, she called for one of her attendants. He entered the room quickly, his posture straight, ready to do whatever she asked.

"Get Doppo Orochi, Gouki Shibukawa, and Izou Motobe as trainers for Baki," she said, her voice as sharp and precise as ever. "I want them here within a week."

Within a week? My eyes widened. That was fast. I hadn't expected her to agree so easily, let alone act on it so quickly. But that was my mother. Once her mind was set on something, there was no hesitation. She lived for this—raising me, molding me into the weapon I would need to become. And now, with Yuujiro's challenge looming over us, she was more determined than ever.

As the attendant bowed and hurried out of the room to make the arrangements, I couldn't help but feel a weight settle on my shoulders. This was it. The real training was about to begin. No more basic exercises. No more coddling. From now on, I would be learning from some of the greatest martial artists Japan had to offer. My life was going to change, and fast.

But was I ready for it? Could I handle what was coming? I had asked for this—I had demanded better trainers, knowing that if I didn't, I would never survive a world ruled by men like Yuujiro. But now that it was happening, the reality of it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Emi watched me closely, her eyes gleaming with pride and something else—anticipation. "You'll thank me later, Baki," she said softly, her voice almost tender, but laced with that familiar edge. "One year. You have one year to grow stronger. And when your father returns... you'll be ready."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The next phase of my life had already begun, and there was no turning back. The countdown had started, and in a year's time, Yuujiro would be back to see if I was worthy of being his son.

And I had to be ready.