Chapter 1: Strength

Deep in the mountains of Japan a boy sat on a log with his older brother. This place was removed from modern society and all its troubles. Here the boy and his brother were free to train and learn the ways of the warrior together.

The sweat drenched brothers heaved heavily from their earlier activity. The young brother looked up at his large older sibling who wiped his brow with a towel.

“Another round?”

The elder tossed his younger brother a towel and it was immediately used to clean his own sweaty body.

“One minute, Kai. I don’t recover as fast as you.”

The younger brother rocked back on the log and looked up at the sky peeking through the canopy of trees overhead. He breathed deeply to regain his strength because he needed every bit of it just to “play” with Kai.

When Kai stood to stretch the young brother questioned his sanity at even playing with someone his size. Kai’s waist was as wide and solid as a tree trunk and his arms had grown in tandem with the rest of his body. Muscles bulged from every part of his body without even a flex as a natural display of his power and diligence.

“You’ll never get stronger sitting around all the time.”

Kai winked as he said it then slapped his brother’s thigh playfully. Even with the low force put into the strike it still felt like being struck with a stone slab.

“Fine.”

The young boy stood and walked past Kai who was already assuming a stance. The boy responded by dropping and raising his arms to guard himself with his palms facing his opponent. Kai spread his guard wide, an obvious invitation for his younger brother. Youthful passion burst through the younger brother’s legs and Kai braced him to greet him charge head on.

Wrestling was Kai’s favorite pastime because he never lost a single match to anyone that wasn’t their master. This time was no different either; within a few minutes of struggle the young boy was planted on his back panting for air beneath the weight of his mighty sibling.

“I give! I give!”

“I bet you do! That was a good match, little warrior.” Kai helped his brother to his feet who immediately slumped forward.

“It’s useless for me to do this. I’ll never be strong like you.” The boy shook his head and grunted.

“You’re half right. It ain’t useless though.”

“It isn’t?” The boy craned his neck up at Kai.

“Building strength is never useless.”

“But you’re so much bigger than me.”

“Yeah but…” Kai strolled over to a tree nearby and gestured to it. “Do you think I would lose to this tree?”

“No…I’ve seen you tear down trees twice that size.”

“Ha! At least three times this size! Size doesn’t matter to a warrior! Strength matters!”

Kai flexed both his arms out to show his biceps.

“A strong body!”

Kai pointed to his head.

“A strong mind!”

Kai slammed a fist to his chest with a thunderous boom.

“And a strong heart! As long as you’ve got those you’ll be a fine warrior. And you’ve at least got the last one.”

The boy nodded in agreement as he laughed and his brother laughed too.

“You’re right. After all, even you lose to Oota more often than not.”

The little brother grinned and bolted a split second before Kai leaped at him. The muscled giant chased his younger brother until the sun sank as they laughed the entire time.

**********

The present rushed forward to greet the Bushi as he opened his eyes. He was in the back seat of a cab as it drove through Nagoya. The night lights of the city blurred as the driver sped towards the Bushi’s destination.

Even at night the city was still active and crowded in a way that was almost suffocating to him. Cars packed the roads, people packed on the sidewalk and the towering buildings were tightly bundled like sticks. The Bushi understood that this was how humanity had progressed; a value of quantity over quality. Still the density of it all bothered him and he struggled to put it far from his mind.

He needed to have a strong mind for his duty.

“So are you headed to a convention or something?”

The Bushi directed his attention to the cab driver, an elderly man who had tried to be sociable at the start of the drive.

“Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I just thought, you know, because of the cosplay…”

The Bushi had heard of the term before and understood that his warrior’s clothes were a costume in modern society. His haori, hakama, gauntlets and sword all stood out in the city. Even with his sword wrapped in cloth now it seemed many would still believe that he was a pretender. Most people in society didn’t know that warriors still existed.

“It’s for business.”

“Wow! That’s a strange kind of business you must have!”

The driver laughed at his own joke but stopped after the Bushi didn’t seem interested in any elaboration. The drive continued in silence until they began to approach the destination. The bright lights of the city were fewer, the corners and alleys seemed darker, and the crowd grew more unsavory the closer they got.

“I don’t think I can go any further than this. This area is giving me a chill.”

The Bushi noted his elderly drivers’ shaky hands and profuse sweating. It seemed that it had taken all of the cab driver’s courage just to drive this deep into the dangerous area.

“That’s fine, stop here.”

Reaching into his haori the Bushi pulled out a stack of paper bills and handed them to the cab driver whose eyes went wide. The Bushi was out of the car before the man could try to offer him change. To the cab driver’s credit he made sure that the Bushi was safely on his way for he turned around and sped home for the night.

Night time in this area of Nagoya was filled with a dangerous energy and everyone with common sense knew it. Only the desperate, the purposeful, or the criminal wandered into this area at this time. The Bushi was likely all three as his quest had brought him here to do what must be done.

Street by street, the Bushi navigated to his destination with his weapon in hand. As dangerous as the night denizens were in this area, most had honed their own sense of survival instinct that screamed at them to avoid the Bushi. Peddlers, dealers, scam artists, and thieves all took note that the Bushi was no easy mark regardless of how misplaced he looked.

Finally the Bushi came upon an old warehouse that had been remodeled into a club. The thump of the music was heard from blocks away and the flashy neon signs were the only light in the area. As the Bushi approached he didn’t notice any sign of a sentry out front but never thought that might be due there being no need for one. Those that didn’t belong didn’t normally leave this club alive.

The Bushi walked directly through the front door and removed the sheet from his sword and tucked it in his waistband. Inside was a lobby with the same color theme of neon lighting running around the walls and the carpet on the floor. Opposite of the entrance was a thin red curtain that led to a hallway. The only feature beyond that was a single booth with a young woman acting as an attendant standing behind it.

The woman saw the warrior, glanced at the sword, pressed a button beneath the booth, and decided it was time for her to leave. Her rapid retreat down the hallway was loud enough to be heard even over the music, as was the rush of approaching footsteps that followed.

From behind the curtained hallway burst four muscular men with stern faces and bad intentions written all over them. One of which was literal by the words “Kill the Weak” tattooed on the side of his face. Each one was dressed torn denim, wore leather, or ripped cotton and adorned with spikes to project malice and danger.

“Well, well, well what fucking anime convention did you walk out of?”

The tattooed face thug pointed a metal rod at the Bushi.

“I’m here for Strongboy. ”

“Not happening.”

The thug inched towards the Bushi and wagged the metal rod left and right. The Bushi breathed deeply to ready himself.

“I wasn’t asking.”

Steel rang against steel as the metal rod bounced off the Bushi’s gauntlet. The deflected strike left the tattooed faced man wide open and the Bushi drove his fist into the man’s solar plexus. Momentum knocked the man from his feet and returned him down the corridor.

Yelling followed; noisy grunts, curses, and other forms of wasted energy that sapped strength and telegraphed attacks. The henchmen’s anger fueled their blows, heavy fists with incredible strength came at the Bushi from multiple angles. Kicks strong enough to break concrete were thrown low and high to crush the warrior’s knees and head. Even a length of chain was pulled out to crack the Bushi’s skull wide open.

None of this changed the outcome even slightly.

The Bushi deflected the fists and retaliated with his own blows that struck home and crumpled his opponent. The kicks were parried and one was returned to the groin of his opponent who let a slight whimper before he crashed to the ground. And the chain’s whip strike was intercepted and the chain’s holder received a knife-hand strike to the throat for their efforts.

Barely a minute had passed since the thugs had rushed into the room and now they were unconscious or immobile on the ground. The Bushi stepped over the bodies and only paused when the tattoo faced man reached out to grab the warrior who simply stomped his face in.

Inside the corridor was lined with rooms; some had doors and others had curtains. Within each room customers of the establishment were debasing themselves on substances or women or men. Sometimes all simultaneously. Most of them ignored the Bushi but some intelligent few decided it was time to leave and fled out the hallway once the warrior passed by.

At the end of the corridor the space opened into a massive club floor complete with a DJ area, dance floor, tables, a bar and a huge VIP section. The music beat to a rhythm that shook the floor and walls while the multicolor strobe lights flashed and whirled in a dizzying frenzy. The scent of alcohol and narcotics were thick in the air almost to the point of suffocation.

The Bushi held his nose as he descended into the club and slipped his way through the crowd of inebriated patrons. On the far side was his destination; the VIP area with tinted glass. As he made way there two figures appeared from the flanks of the VIP entrance. Both were muscled men just like the thugs early but these wore ill-fitting suits that didn’t hide any of their bulk.

“Where do you think yo-”

The words in the security guard’s throat were cut off by a strong jab to his windpipe. The other guard didn’t waste any time or energy yelling like the thugs, he immediately lashed out at the Bushi with his fist. A second later the guard was screaming, his knuckles shattered on impact with the metal gauntlet then a swift chop rendered him unconscious.

The commotion caught the attention of the group inside the VIP area just as the Bushi walked in. Barely clothed women screamed and exited around the warrior until only himself and two other individuals were left.

One was Strongboy; A mountain of a man with two mechanical arms that were somehow disproportionately large even on Strongboy’s mammoth frame. The other was a lean man, less muscled than the other thugs but he had a mechanical right arm that matched his stature. As they both stood Strongboy towered over his subordinate and everyone else in the room. If the VIP area had a ceiling it would have exploded outwards when Strongboy stood up.

“I think this guy is the little bit of trouble from the front desk.” The subordinate motion toward the warrior.

“No shit, Vander. Handle him.”

The giant gestured at the Bushi and Vander answered by grabbing his metal arm with his other hand. Through some mechanism unknown to the Bushi the metal arm transformed with a series of clicks and sliding metal parts until it resembled a rifle jutting from his shoulder.

A muzzle flash lit up the area as a single bullet ripped through the air where the Bushi once stood. Already on the move with his sword in hand the warrior closed the space between himself and Vander. The blade sang as it darted from its sheath in one arc to sever Vander’s gun arm where his elbow should be. Another slash followed into the neck that sent a blossom of blood flying through the air.

The room exploded into chaos; cursing, yelling and the rush of fleeing footsteps filled the room as the other occupants cleared the club. Strongboy and the Bushi barely took notice as they sized up one another. Within minutes it was only them left inside the large room, possibly within the entire club.

“You killed Vander like it was nothing.”

“It was nothing.”

“Ho ho. I like you little man.”

Strongboy reached behind him and took hold of an entire segment of the couch in one hand.

“Don’t break too easily, okay?”

A roar of destruction echoed as Strongboy tore the furniture from its home mounted against the wall. With one wide arc the couch came at the Bushi and met his blade. Another object rocketed from behind the weaponized furniture at the same moment it was cleaved and slammed into the swordsman. Head over heels the Bushi twirled through the air until he crashed to a halt.

Every bone in the warrior's body hurt; it felt like he was hit by a cannonball and the thought wasn’t far from the truth. As his hearing and vision began to return from the void, Bushi realized he was covered in broken glass and alcohol. He’d been knocked across the room into the bar shelf on the wall by a steel fist he hadn’t seen coming.

“Punks like you usually have less flare to them when they show up to kill me. Usually they just have a gun or a knife and some speech about some nobody that died.”

The giant marched across the room with a level of comfort that belied the life or death struggle happening. To a titan like himself this wasn’t fight, it was pest control.

“But you show up like a genuine ronin. But who shows up somewhere just to die?”

The Bushi breathed deeply and found his heart, his reason for being here and with it the pain retreated. Another form of strength flowed through his body that made him rise to his feet and face Strongboy. Inside the Bushi knew that another hit would be the end of the fight. Even if it didn’t kill him he’d be left too broken to fight against the man.

So he made a choice and stepped forward.

“Oh ho! You’re actually approaching me?”

“...Yeah. I can’t beat the shit out of you if I don’t get closer.”

The Bushi’s sword had been knocked away during the first hit but he knew it wasn’t necessary. A weapon wasn’t the source of a warrior’s strength. His brother Kai had chopped down trees and crushed boulders with his bare hands so the least he could do was handle a man with metal limbs.

Strongboy sized up the warrior once he was within range of his gigantic arms and didn’t hesitate to seize the apparent easy target by swinging his fist down on him. One hit would turn the warrior into pulp but that didn’t matter to the Bushi. He was the one planning on doing the hitting.

The Bushi reared his fist back and threw all of his strength at the metal arm. Steel rang against steel as the warrior deflected the blow with his gauntlet. It wasn’t enough to send the giant reeling but surprised him enough for the Bushi to advance forward and strike a blow to the knee. Strongboy winched in pain and swung his other arm to clothesline his opponent.

This time the Bushi coiled into himself as he crouched and then sprung out with a chop to parry the blow. Again he followed up with another strike to Strongboy’s knee and made him grunt.

Another blow from the goliath came and the cycle repeated. The Bushi parried, blocked, and deflected any strike or attempted grapple with a powerful blow of his own then struck at Strongboy’s lower body again and again. Like a woodsman taking an ax to a stubborn tree the warrior hacked away at Strongboy’s body with his fists.

The metal limbs began to deform, sparks fired from rotors and motors damaged beyond repair. Strongboy’s legs hurt more with every retaliation from the Bushi and it wasn’t long before one solid blow collapsed the giant to one knee. And the Bushi’s assault continued.

The groin. The bladder. The stomach. The solar plexus. The sternum. The throat. The chin. The nose.

A series of blows barraged the vital striking areas along the centerline of Strongboy’s body. The damage accumulated until finally the giant collapsed with a thundering crash that shook the foundation of the building. The Bushi batted aside the malfunctioning limbs as he mounted the giant’s chest and stood over his broken foe.

“You fucker…! You won’t get away…with this! I’ll remember th–wait. I know you.”

Recognition washed over Strongboy’s battered face with a mix of shock and fear then flowed into an awkward chuckle before finally settling into an insane laughter.

“Ha ha ha! You’re that fucking kid! Ha! The crying, sniveling, cow-”

The Bushi’s fist fell into Strongboy’s face like a meteor. Then another followed behind it. Blow after blow rained down into Strongboy like a shower of stars from the heavens. Divine punishment was brought down on the fallen titan. The Bushi didn’t stop until he realized he was hitting the floor. His gauntlets were warped and soaked in gore and his throat was raw because he hadn’t realized he was screaming the entire time.

Adrenaline pumped through the warrior’s body but he used his breathing to calm himself down. When he gathered his composure, Bushi walked away from Strongboy’s body and found his sword. With one last look at his handiwork the Bushi left the club.

“One down…four to go.”