Chapter 14: Blood on the Canvas

There’s a smell every underground ring shares: sweat, blood, and money that doesn’t care where it came from.

Tonight, it was thick enough to choke on.

The warehouse lights buzzed overhead like dying insects. The crowd pressed close around the cage, their voices merging into a single sound — hunger. Not for the fight. For the break. The crack. The moment someone stops moving.

Jin was at my shoulder, cigarette dangling from his lips like a sneer.

“You ready?”

“No,” I said. Because honesty doesn’t cost extra.

He smirked like that was the answer he wanted anyway.

“Guy’s a monster, Kazuki. Undefeated. Likes to play with his food.”

“Great pep talk.”

“Don’t die.”

That was it. That was his coaching. Then he shoved me toward the cage like I was nothing but meat.

---

The Opponent

They called him Ranmaru.

Big. Bald. Tattooed arms like tree trunks. The kind of guy who probably thought subtlety was a kind of steak.

He grinned at me through the cage bars, teeth yellow under the lights.

“You’re smaller than I thought,” he said when I stepped in.

“People say that a lot,” I muttered.

The ref said something about rules. Which was funny, because this place didn’t have any.

Then the bell rang.

---

Round One: Teeth and Steel

He moved first. A freight train with fists. I ducked, but his punch still clipped my jaw, snapping my head sideways like a broken hinge.

Crowd roared. Blood sprayed. My vision stuttered.

Good. Pain means you’re still alive.

I came back with a shot to his ribs. Felt like punching concrete. He didn’t flinch. Just smiled wider, like he was enjoying the taste of me breaking.

He hit again. Body shot this time. Air left my lungs like a bad tenant.

I stumbled, spat blood. Thought of the napkin in my jacket pocket.

Grand piano. Ocean. Dessert.

Thought of her face under the city lights, laughing like the world wasn’t falling apart.

And I got up.

---

Flashfire Memory: The Ocean

Blue. I’d told her the ocean was blue, like someone smashed every shade together.

She’d laughed, said, “That sounds messy.”

And I’d said, “It is.”

Just like this.

Messy. Ugly. Real.

---

Round two was worse. He slammed me into the cage so hard my spine sang protest. My ribs cracked — I felt it, heard it, tasted it in the back of my throat.

He whispered, hot breath stinking of cigarettes and blood:

“Stay down, little man.”

I didn’t answer. Just drove my elbow into his face like I was signing my name in bone.

His nose burst red. He roared. Good. Now we were both ugly.

---

Round Three: No Room for Air

Time stopped making sense. The fight turned into a loop: hit, bleed, breathe, repeat. My body was screaming, but my brain was somewhere else — on a rooftop, under a sky that didn’t care, holding a girl who smelled like rain and music.

She wanted gold on chocolate. She wanted stars described like love songs.

She wanted to live.

And I—

I couldn’t give her forever.

But I could give her this: me, standing, one more time.

---

I don’t remember the last punch clearly. Just the sound — a wet crack like a bat hitting rotten fruit. His face folded sideways. His knees gave out.

He hit the floor like a fallen god.

And I stayed up. Barely.

Hands shaking. Blood dripping from my knuckles like broken promises.

Crowd screaming like they’d just watched a miracle.

They didn’t know what they saw.

This wasn’t victory. It was survival dressed up as triumph.

---

The ref lifted my arm. It felt like someone else’s. I didn’t smile. Couldn’t.

All I could see was her face, her voice saying, “If this was the last thing I ever heard, I’d be okay.”

And all I could think was:

Not yet. Please, not yet.

---

Aftermath: The Locker Room

Concrete floor. Rusted lockers. Smell of blood thicker than oxygen.

I sat hunched, tape peeling from my hands, crimson smeared like war paint.

Every breath hurt. Every nerve screamed.

Jin walked in, clapping slow.

“Hell of a show,” he said, tossing a towel my way.

I didn’t answer. Just stared at my fists like they belonged to a stranger.

He leaned against the lockers, eyes glinting like coins in the dark.

“You’re not done yet.”

I looked up.

“What?”

“There’s another fight lined up. Bigger money. Bigger risk. The bosses loved your little act out there.”

He grinned like the devil offering discounts.

“Keep this up, and you’ll buy her the whole damn ocean.”

I didn’t say anything.

Because if I opened my mouth, the only thing that would come out would be a scream.

---

So I just sat there, listening to the drip of blood on concrete.

And I thought:

I’m going to burn myself to the ground for her.

And I don’t care if there’s nothing left when it’s over.

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