Dance of the Dragon

The next morning came all too soon. The courtyard of the Tenjou Clan headquarters was packed to the brim with yakuza, all waiting for the inevitable moment.

News of the Shindou Family’s destruction by the hand of the Yama Ryu had spread like wildfire. And within those embers, the rumor of Yama Ryu being beaten down was igniting just as fiercely.

Such fierce infighting had created an uproar that the officers of the Tenjou Clan couldn’t ignore, so an all-hands attendance was declared for the next morning.

Already, Shuji Arabaki was sitting at his normal spot around the officer table, exuding the confidence of a leader. He led the briefing in regard to the clash between the Yamaoka and Shindou Families, culminating in the latter’s downfall.

Many eyebrows arched as he rehashed his exchange with the Yama Ryu, his opponent falling out of the window and disappearing afterward. When an officer called bullshit on him and took a swing, Arabaki stopped his fist with a gloved hand, unmoved from his seated position.

A casual glance at the offender and a twist of the arm sent the lieutenant crashing into the wall, a signature move of the Yama Ryu. This single show of power was enough to rally the others behind him.

“But where is Yamaoka?” Lieutenant Shirokawa questioned. “Surely, he didn’t-”

“For someone having fallen from a six-story window, I watched him race away, barely harmed. He will surely arrive,” Arabaki replied.

At that moment, a wave of noise erupted from outside. Someone walked over to the window, confirming the situation.

“Lieutenant Yamaoka has arrived.”

“Just in time for the main event. I have to uphold the honor of my statements.”

This meeting had grown boring. Arabaki couldn’t wait to have fun once again.

v

The yakuza mob cleared a path forward as Ryuji walked through the courtyard of the Tenjou Clan headquarters. As he passed, they made sure to bow in respect towards their superior. By the time he reached the large open area in the middle, everyone had moved to the edges to give space for what they presumed would happen next.

The doors of the headquarters cracked open, its swing drawing everyone’s attention. Like two fighters approaching a ring, all eyes were on Shuji Arabaki strolling down the steps, cracking his knuckles in preparation.

A challenge had been issued – Arabaki to the Yama Ryu.

While Ryuji wasn’t required to accept the duel, the mantle of the next Chairman hung on their shoulders. For many, the Yama Ryu was naturally the leader they would follow. Their pious gazes spoke of betrayal if he were to decline, so he had no choice but to put up his fists.

As the initiator of the duel, Arabaki stepped into the open circle and loosened the buttons of his shirt. With one swift motion, he flung it off, once again showing off the exoskeleton suit that gave him a fighting advantage.

Ryuji took no hesitation in taking his shirt off too, displaying his pride and joy, the back tattoo of a dragon ascending a mountain. He tapped the headpiece that snugly wrapped around his temple.

“Let’s go, Grace. He’ll learn not to mess with us.”

Ryuji bounded forward with a raised fist, not letting Arabaki choose the pace this time. His eyes looked squarely at his shoulders, where a sudden twitch of the left one spoke of a projected block. Immediately, Ryuji slid into a right kick, aiming low to catch him off balanced, but a twitch in Arabaki’s hips made him switch gears again, rising for a high knee to the face instead.

Arabaki still managed to bring his arms together enough to meet the knee, but his hands were blown back from being ill-positioned to do so. The momentum sent him several steps back, a surprise that the tech-enhanced fighter hadn’t calibrated for.

Grace’s guiding arrows were of no use here. The decisions that Ryuji had to make on the fly were too rapid, so she turned them off. Rather, Ryuji made use of his impeccable reaction time, honed by his training with Dr. Higashi the previous night.

When Ryuji first stepped into the caged arena, he looked around in awe at what appeared to be a soccer stadium. Dr. Higashi stepped forward, lightly dribbling a soccer ball at his feet.

“Let the training begin. Just so you know, I’m not a skilled fighter like you. But what I can do in this dream world should more than compensate for getting you to peak condition.”

Ryuji watched as Dr. Higashi kicked the ball up before leaping into the air with a spin kick that would strike martial artists with envy. His foot cleanly smashed into the ball, igniting a spark that caught it aflame.

By the time Ryuji realized that a flaming ball was coming right for him, he barely had the time to dodge as it singed the tips of his hair in passing. An explosion rocked the ground as a crater formed where the ball landed, sending chills down Ryuji’s back.

“You’ve got to be kidding…”

Another soccer meteor headed for him. This time, Ryuji was forced to roll out of the way. The impact landed close to him, the shockwave sending his body several meters away before he tumbled upon the grass.

“You can’t just wait for the ball to start coming at you. You have to react to the motions before it. Watch my joints. Guess where I’m planning to strike.”

“Easy for you to say!”

“By the time we’re done, I’m sure it will be. After all, they say that a dream can feel like forever, even when hardly any time has passed. And you can’t die in a dream… normally.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

Ryuji had spent a good part of the night dodging flaming meteors, learning to anticipate intention at a glance. It was the same method that Grace used for her projections, and what the algorithm in Arabaki’s suit relied upon. Ryuji had to replicate that ability on instinct, without needing to be told what to do.

Fortunately, he had the reflexes to achieve that.

Punches flew towards Ryuji, but he simply turned his head ever so slightly to let them pass by. His eyes remained focused on Arabaki’s core, the time it took for the motion to start there and travel up his appendages being far more than the 120 milliseconds it took Ryuji to react.

As Doctor Higashi noticed, his reaction time was far faster than the normal human speed of 250 milliseconds. And for an untrained fighter like Arabaki who let his suit do the motions, it likely took twice as long, meaning that Ryuji could shift gears in one-fourth of the time.

As Ryuji swerved around Arabaki’s attacks and let loose his own, he could easily tell how late Arabaki was in responding on the fly. Even with Ryuji’s battle data programmed to the suit, there was apparently not much that could be done when brain technology held limitations.

It couldn’t respond faster than the user’s own sense of perception, lest a gap in cognitive timing developed. The resulting vertigo was likened to early virtual reality games where a disconnect formed between sight and reality.

And here, Ryuji was seeing firsthand how shortcuts would only take someone so far.

Ryuji’s fist connected with a hasty block, weak from poor positioning. Arabaki winced as the fist blew right through the guard and slammed into his chest. His jaw was left agape at the difference from the previous night.

Arabaki gritted his teeth, no longer enjoying the fight. He threw several more jabs, fast as the Yama Ryu could do, yet Ryuji was no longer in the spots where they flew. Instead, the eyes of a dragon shone brightly as Ryuji stepped in, turning the bout into an infight.

Ryuji didn’t even need to see an uppercut from below as he flipped backwards and did a chair spin. Arabaki’s body tried to do the same in response, but he was caught mid-flip and bounced right off from poor starting momentum.

A wave of panic swept over Arabaki as he tumbled in the air, helpless. His body fought to self-correct, but he was flying with wings too heavy for him. In the moment that he found himself looking up, he spied the real one descending upon him. A flying axe kick slammed him downward, and in the next moment, Arabaki was painfully sandwiched to the pavement.

A round of cheers erupted from the crowd, in awe as the clear victor stood atop his prey. Ryuji stepped back and turned around, brandishing his signature tattoo at his downed foe. He started to walk away until a low growl sounded.

“Heh, what a waste of money… is what I’d say if that was the extent of my little investment.”

Ryuji looked back, seeing a man that was stubborn like him. One had to be that way to get up the food chain in the yakuza. For the first time in their exchange, he felt an ounce of respect.

Arabaki climbed to his feet. He gritted his bloody teeth and slapped the front of his chest, the hiss of his suit becoming the growl of a wounded but fierce animal. Ryuji wondered what else he had in store, but then, Arabaki dove forward.

A flurry of punches, kicks, and grabs came for Ryuji, whose danger senses kicked into high gear as he fought to make some distance. The vibe around Arabaki had completely changed, and when his face spun around to meet his, he realized why.

“Careful, he’s no longer connected to the suit! It’s on autopilot!” Grace warned, in which Ryuji nodded with a smile.

“Looks like that prep came in handy, Grace. Hit it!”

Arabaki’s eyes swirled as his body tossed back and forth. It felt like nothing short of a runaway roller coaster with unseen tracks. It had been his trump card, cutting all synchronization to his suit and letting it fight using its onboard AI.

During the fight, Arabaki realized that he was too damn slow compared to the Yama Ryu. The only way to deal with the gap between their trained speed was to remove himself as a factor all together.

But then, why am I not winning?

Arabaki couldn’t feel the feedback of fists or feet connecting solidly with his opponent. He simply danced through the air, catching nothing. Attack after attack transitioned into the next, no human hesitation interrupting the flow. But still, it felt like he was alone, chasing after an opponent that remained out of reach.

A few hums entered his ears, prompting confusion. It grew louder for a moment before a fist swiftly clocked him in the face. The suit kept moving, ignoring all damage to its owner, undeterred by the sudden interruption.

Arabaki could only go along for the ride as the hums faded and picked up once again, a different melody this time. Another punch slammed into his side. This time, he could feel the metal bend against his ribs. Each twist and turn rubbed sorely against that spot, but he refused to deactivate it.

Unlike Arabaki, who could no longer tell the flow of battle anymore, it was obvious to the crowd that the Yama Ryu was having an even easier time for Round 2. He hummed and dodged to imaginary music, diving in at the climax and getting a clean hit. And then, the tune would change, but the result was the same – an overwhelming advantage for the Yama Ryu.

Ryuji did, in fact, hear music in head, courtesy of Grace. He had thought it silly the night before that his movements could be characterized by different tunes, but he was now finding it to be unmistakably true.

Arabaki’s movements in auto-pilot had devolved into a chain of attacks that followed Ryuji’s tendencies for style, and by allocating such actions to a melody, it became completely predictable.

Arabaki may have cut off his synchronization to equalize reaction time, but Ryuji didn’t even need that speed when the next move was telegraphed.

With a final blow to the chest, Arabaki bounced hard upon the pavement before the metal exoskeleton cracked and splintered off his body. A dying whirr of mechanical gears broke the silence as a bloodied Arabaki was spread out on the ground. He could no longer move. He had long since been unable to, leaving the suit to do it for him. Ryuji was unsure if he had even remained conscious throughout.