The Gauntlet is Thrown

The abandoned warehouse stood like a rusted cathedral in the industrial wasteland of the city's outskirts. Inside, the air was cold and smelled of rust and stale concrete. A makeshift ring, marked by thick ropes, had been set up in the center, illuminated by harsh, temporary floodlights that cast long, distorted shadows.

Around the ring, a silent, shadowy audience had gathered. On one side stood the sponsors from Pantheon Global—men in sharp, dark suits, their faces impassive, their eyes like camera lenses, recording everything. On the other side stood a nervous Mr. Tanaka and a few high-ranking members of the Inagawa-kai, there to witness the outcome of the challenge they had inadvertently set in motion.

Yamata Kazuya stood in one corner of the ring, a cruel, confident smirk back on his face. He was not the broken man from the courtyard. He was remade, harder, his eyes burning with a cold fire fueled by his new sponsors' power. Beside him stood the Four Monarchs of Kanto University, a terrifying lineup of elite fighters.

"The Juggernaut" Genjiro was a mountain of muscle, cracking his neck with intimidating force.

"The Viper" was lean and wiry, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his shins looking like they were carved from wood.

"The Professor" sat calmly on a stool, his eyes closed as if in meditation, a picture of grappling purity.

"The Ghost" was a small, lithe figure who stayed in the shadows, his face obscured by a dark hoodie, his presence unnervingly silent.

Then, the main warehouse doors groaned open.

Kenji's team entered, not as a scattered group, but as a single, cohesive unit. Kenji walked in front, his expression unreadable. To his right and left were Maruyama and Rina, their presence a potent mix of immovable force and explosive energy. Behind them walked Kaito, his hand resting on a sheathed shinai, his gaze serene. And at the very back walked Akari, holding a tablet, her face a mask of cold, analytical focus.

They walked to the opposite corner of the ring, their synchronized, purposeful movement a stark contrast to the arrogant lounging of Yamata's team.

A man in a suit from Pantheon stepped forward to act as a referee. "The rules are simple," he announced, his voice amplified by the warehouse's acoustics. "There are no rules. A match is won when an opponent is knocked out, submits, or is otherwise unable to continue. The first team to achieve three victories wins the challenge. The challenging team will announce their fighter first for each match."

Yamata stepped forward, his smirk widening. "An easy choice for the first round. We want to see a clash of titans. We send out 'The Juggernaut'!"

Genjiro, the wrestling champion, grinned and stepped into the ring, pounding his chest. He was a perfect specimen of raw power.

Akari didn't need to speak. All eyes in Kenji's corner turned to Maruyama. It was the exact matchup she had predicted.

"Maruyama-san," Akari said, her voice crisp. "Remember the plan. His left knee is his weakness. But do not target it immediately. Wear down his stamina. His brutality makes him inefficient. Let him exhaust himself against your defense."

"Understood," Maruyama rumbled. He took off his school jacket, revealing the thick, powerful muscles of a true judoka. He bowed to Kenji. "I will not fail you, Senpai."

"You will not," Kenji said simply, his confidence in his follower absolute.

Maruyama stepped through the ropes. The two giants faced each other in the center of the ring. It was a battle of mountains. Maruyama, the immovable fortress of Judo. Genjiro, the unstoppable avalanche of wrestling.

"Hajime!" the referee declared.

Genjiro roared and charged, just like Maruyama had against Kenji. But where Maruyama had been a bull, Genjiro was a rhino. He shot forward for a powerful double-leg takedown, aiming to lift Maruyama off his feet and slam him into the mat.

Maruyama, however, was prepared. Instead of trying to meet the force head-on, he did exactly as Akari had instructed and Kenji had shown him. He sank his weight, lowering his center of gravity, and used a judo foot sweep—not to throw, but to disrupt.

Genjiro's charge was diverted. He stumbled, surprised by the judoka's agility. But he was a champion for a reason. He recovered instantly, transitioning his charge into a powerful clinch, wrapping his massive arms around Maruyama's torso.

The battle of titans had begun.

It was a grueling, primal struggle. Genjiro used his raw, explosive strength, trying to lift and suplex Maruyama. Maruyama used his superior balance and defensive posture, his feet like roots, refusing to be moved. The muscles in their backs and necks bulged, veins popping as they strained against each other. It was a stalemate of pure, unadulterated power.

"He's too strong!" Rina muttered, watching from the corner.

"Patience," Akari said, her eyes glued to the fight, analyzing every movement. "Maruyama's style is more energy-efficient. Look at Genjiro's face. He's already turning red."

It was true. Genjiro, used to ending his matches with explosive, overwhelming force in the first minute, was growing frustrated. This judoka was like a giant oak tree; he simply wouldn't budge. He roared again and put every ounce of his strength into a final, desperate lift.

Maruyama felt his feet leave the mat. He was airborne.

This was it. The Juggernaut's signature move.

But as he went up, Maruyama remembered Kenji's training. A fortress wall is useless if the enemy is already inside. He relaxed his body, going with the throw, but as he did, he used the motion to snake his own arms around Genjiro's head and neck, locking in a powerful guillotine choke grip.

WHAM!

Genjiro slammed Maruyama onto the mat with a ground-shaking impact. But Maruyama held onto the choke.

The battle had now moved to the ground. Genjiro, the wrestler, was in his element. He tried to posture up, to break the choke, but Maruyama's grip, forged by years of judo, was like steel.

"His left knee!" Akari shouted from the corner. "Now, Maruyama-kun!"

Hearing the command, Maruyama, while still applying the choke, used his powerful legs to lock onto Genjiro's lower body. He found the left leg and began to apply a crushing pressure to the old injury with his heel.

Genjiro roared, a sound of both rage and pain. His oxygen was being cut off, and his weak point was under direct, agonizing assault. He was trapped. The judoka he had thought was just a defensive wall had turned into a giant python, squeezing the life out of him.

He struggled, his powerful muscles spasming. But his vision was starting to tunnel. Black spots danced before his eyes.

He had two choices: let his knee be permanently destroyed, or submit.

With a final, enraged groan, he tapped his hand frantically on the mat. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The submission.

The referee jumped in. "The winner, by submission, is Maruyama Jiro!"

Silence. Then, a single, booming cheer from Rina. "HE DID IT!"

Maruyama released the choke, gasping for air, his body bruised but his spirit soaring. He had won. He had faced a monster and, using strategy and the lessons from his Senpai, he had made the monster tap out.

He stood up, walked to his corner, and bowed once more to Kenji. "First victory... for you, Senpai."

In the opposite corner, Yamata's smirk had vanished. One of his four Monarchs had just been defeated in the very first round. He looked at Kenji's team, at Akari's cold, analytical gaze, and realized with a jolt that they had come prepared. Deeply prepared.

The score was 1-0.

Yamata's eyes hardened. No more games. It was time to unleash a different kind of monster.

"For the second match," he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "We send out 'The Viper'!"