Episode 2

Sakamoto sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, staring intently at the tournament ticket as if it might suddenly burst into flames. The time printed on the glossy surface read 8:00 PM. He glanced up at the small clock on his desk. 7:30 PM.

"Half an hour," he muttered, tossing the ticket onto his bed. "What's the rush?" He leaned back, lazily humming a tune, only to spring up moments later. "Wait, what am I doing?! I've gotta get ready!"

He grabbed his trusty black polo, which had seen better days, and a pair of black pants. Sliding them on, he dug through a corner of his room for his scruffy old bag. As he slung it over his shoulder, his stomach let out a thunderous growl, loud enough to make him pause mid-stride.

"Seriously? Now?!" Sakamoto groaned, clutching his belly. "Maybe they'll have free food at the tournament. A buffet for competitors or something… Yeah, that's gotta be a thing, right?"

With his hunger pushed to the back of his mind, he peeked toward the living room, where his grandmother was watching her favorite soap opera. He scratched his head nervously. "She can't know I'm leaving… She'll kill me."

He looked toward the window, sighed dramatically, and opened it. "Alright. Ninja mode, activate!" He jumped out, landing with a soft thud on the ground.

"Sakamoto!"

His grandmother's voice rang out like a siren, startling him so badly that he nearly tripped over his own feet. Turning slowly, he plastered on the most innocent face he could muster.

"Uh, hey, Grandma! Just… getting some fresh air."

"Be careful, you hear me?" she called out, shaking her head. "And don't make me wait for you too long!"

"Don't worry! I'll be back in no time!" he replied, sprinting away before she could ask more questions.

Moments later, Sakamoto arrived at the tournament stadium, a colossal structure that dwarfed every other building in the city. The streets leading to it were packed with people, buzzing with excitement. Thousands of citizens flooded the area, discussing their favorite fighters and speculating about the brutal matches to come.

Sakamoto stood at the entrance, his mouth slightly agape as people pushed past him. "Man… this is insane," he muttered, watching the crowd. He overheard snippets of conversations:

"Did you hear about Boton? He's unstoppable!"

"Yeah, but what about Hina? She's been training for this all year."

Sakamoto, uninterested in gossip, shrugged and headed inside.

The stadium was even more overwhelming inside. The roar of the crowd was deafening, the excitement almost tangible. As Sakamoto reached the registration desk, a gruff man with a clipboard raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ticket," the man said, extending his hand.

Sakamoto fumbled with his bag, eventually pulling out the crumpled ticket and handing it over.

The man scanned it and nodded. "Alright, kid. Name?"

"Oh, uh, Sakamoto," he replied.

"Right. Move down the hallway, take a right, and head straight until you reach Door 10. That's your prep room. Wait there until your name is called."

"Got it. Thanks!" Sakamoto said cheerfully, taking off in the direction indicated.

Minutes later, Sakamoto found himself hopelessly lost. He stood in the middle of a corridor, spinning in circles as he tried to make sense of the signs.

"This is ridiculous!" he shouted, his voice echoing. "What kind of idiot designed this place?!"

"Lost, are we?"

The voice made him jump. Turning around, Sakamoto saw a tall man walking toward him. He wore pure white pants, no shirt, and a white rope tied around his head. His muscular frame gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and Sakamoto couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious.

"Uh, yeah. I'm looking for Door 10," Sakamoto admitted, scratching the back of his head.

The man chuckled. "Follow me. Name's Lee, by the way."

"Oh, I'm Sakamoto," he replied, falling into step beside Lee. "So, uh, what's with the whole shirtless look? Trying to show off or something?"

Lee smirked. "Nah, I just fight better this way. Besides, it's tradition."

"Right," Sakamoto said, eyeing him skeptically.

When they reached Door 10, Lee pushed it open, revealing a large room filled with other competitors. Some were chatting, while others were warming up or stretching. Lee motioned for Sakamoto to look through the glass wall that overlooked the stadium.

Down below, the crowd roared as two fighters stepped into the ring. The atmosphere was electric.

The commentator's voice boomed: "Ladies and gentlemen, let the match… BEGIN!"

One of the fighters, a lean man with a sinister grin, raised his hands. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between himself and his opponent.

"Gale Style: Wind Razor!" he shouted, slicing the air with his hand. A sharp, invisible force whipped through the ring, cutting his opponent into pieces with a sickening shhkkk! The crowd erupted in cheers, chanting the winner's name: Boton!

Sakamoto stumbled back from the glass, his face pale. "Did he just…? That guy is dead!"

Lee chuckled darkly. "Welcome to the Great Tournament. Down there, people die. Hope you're ready for what's coming."

Sakamoto forced a shaky smile. "Ready? Pfft, of course I'm ready. Totally ready. Definitely not about to throw up or anything."

Lee clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. You'll need that confidence."

Sakamoto gulped, his mind racing. "What did I…."