The Symphony of Growth

[A few minutes ago...]

[Mitsunari Tokugawa POV]

"So, which one of these young men do you believe will come out victorious?" I asked my question to the two men sitting next to me, curious about their thoughts. They recognized the true capabilities of the fighters entering the arena, especially considering one of them was the father of one and a master of both.

"Hmmm... Katsumi has grown," clearly the father favored his son, "he's stopped treating Katou's tricks as better than Shinshinkai's way. But..."

"But he still has room to grow," Mr. Shibukawa continued the man's statements, "However, Kuzan's the same, that boy has a lot left to learn. Until now, that boy's been acting like a kid instead of a martial artist."

"Oh?" I was surprised at the Master's words, not understanding them clearly enough, "what's made him so childish to both of you?"

"Hahaha, when's that boy not been acting like a kid?" it seemed Master Orochi had a strong opinion about his new disciple, "Being a picky 'eater,' choosing to only fight against those who he considers would be 'fun,' it's like a child throwing a tantrum and only eating candy for dinner."

"That boy has no interest in things like honor and respect, he only fights for himself, he's selfish..."

"Interesting, what are your thoughts Mr. Shibukawa?"

"He's right," the man agreed with Master Orochi's statements, however, he continued criticizing the young man's conduct, "but that's not all, it doesn't cover his deeper issue..."

"That boy hasn't found his path."

"Imitating the paths of others, learning the different martial arts, it will only get the young man so far. He's progressing towards something, but I'm not certain if it's a complete solution to his fault."

"Do you think he's aware of it himself?" I asked the Master of self-defense, in hopes of seeing a new warrior blossoming in my arena.

"Hmmm, if you asked me before yesterday, I wouldn't have been sure." The Master replied, "But, after seeing the young man off today after his lesson, I could see that he had realized something, making great strides forward. He's not complete, but he's much closer to figuring it all out."

"Hahaha, looks like you hold the young man in high regards despite your statements Master Shibukawa, I had not realized that even you had taken the boy under your wing."

"Of course, it's unbecoming of seniors like us of the older generation to not mold such a talented youth. Still," the man spoke while shaking his head, "it's truly a shame for that boy not to have someone for guidance himself. I can see it, the man he's currently chasing, and I've seen what it can do to talented young men such as himself."

"You underestimate the boy's resolve," the Tiger Slayer declared, cutting off the Master's words, "I have a feeling that he's been traveling down that road without guidance for far longer than we realize."

"So it's a match of growth," I finally understood the meaning behind the statements of the two Masters before me, "which of these two men has grown the most since their last battle,..."

"And which of these two young men will continue to grow the most from this fight." I spoke my last words before the commencement of the match, as both of the young men in question entered the center of the arena.

"FIGHT!"

[Present]

[Kuzan POV]

'No more holding back for fun.'

I waited for Katsumi to begin his first attack, swiftly dodging his barrage of Seiken strikes.

The Seiken strike, one of the most powerful and versatile weapons of a Karate practitioner, despite just being a straight punch shot from the waist.

'Still, it's a deadly attack, encompassing a Karateka's very will into its strike.'

Still, I weaved through his strikes with the dexterity of a fish in water. I was in my element, learning more from my opponent every second, fighting fire with fire.

The man recognized the ineffectiveness of his attacks, and thus chose to try something else instead, changing his Seiken strike at the last moment into something else.

'Ippon Ken.'

I had to commend the young man's strength, especially his accomplishments in Karate to switch so fluidly from one attack to the other; however, it was fruitless.

No matter the shortness of the gap, it was there. No matter his attempts to hide it through the rapid ends of his attacks, it was still there.

All it took was but a moment, a second of thought needed to switch stances, a minor gap of less than half a second. But it was enough.

'Musunkei.' Some would consider it the evolution of Sunkei, similar in appearance to the one-inch punch, this attack, however, consisted of a full-power blow at a range of 0mm.

My punch connected; I could feel it brushing against his face.

However, I underestimated the man's resilience, opting to offer no protection to his own body's defense. Instead, using the moment to unleash his greatest strike, knowing full well it would be the only moment he would have to finish the fight.

'The Mach Punch.' I could finally understand why they were so enamored with it, both Kaiou Retsu and even Master Kaku. It was a truly strong punch, in addition to its overwhelming speed. It was perhaps the first move that had ever "caught me off guard" in any one of my fights up until this point in my life.

I could feel it, the pain in the pit of my stomach, this feeling of carrying a mountain on my shoulders causing my legs to falter under its weight, feeling myself dropping to my knees.

I could feel it, the danger behind my opponent's next move, his body movements making it apparent that he was preparing to finish this match beyond doubt. Preparing to deliver a swift soccer kick directly to my face, using my falling body's momentum to its full potential.

But still, it was useless.

The training I had conducted under my many masters was not just for show. The grueling days of agony under Master Ryuu, Master Kaku, and even his own father Master Orochi were not wasted. I could sense it, the danger behind his next blow, however, this was not the first time I had been this close to defeat.

'I get it.'

Every moment of a martial artist is like an exchange of words, carefully picked out to accomplish its goal.

It's like a ballad of a song, every strike a symphony filled with emotion trying to convey its heart to its audience. Like for any song, played in any moment, there's always a correct string of notes that strikes to the listener's heart, accomplishing its goal.

All that's needed is an experienced musician to play the song.

'I trust it,' I contemplated while succumbing to the weight on my shoulders.

'I trust myself.'

I trusted my body. I had trained, I had grown, and I had bled.

I have loved, and I have lost. And I can only trust myself like this because I had lost so much. And if that's where music comes from,

'I could win.'

I could dodge this blow, I could feel it; it required but the will, the instinct to continue.

I could feel it, I was on the grasp, the very edge of attaining something extraordinary.

"Come on, just a bit more," I pleaded to the fighter as my body had already begun its next movement, fully confident in its choice, evading the man's vertical kick by tilting my head backward. At the same time, instructing itself on the perfect counter to finish its crescendo.

I struck out, using my legs to sweep my opponent's only load-bearing leg while focused on his attack, causing him to lose his balance.

I had trusted my body, and it had reciprocated my trust. My ferocious opponent was now 'flying' in the air, helpless to my next note.

I finally understood it completely, how to sing a song without a word spoken, the truest form of music sang directly from the heart.

'What's next? How do I start the next verse?'

My body answered.

My arms sprang forth, pushing against the sand that served as the floor of the arena, causing my body to spin into the air. It made perfect sense, using his falling body's momentum in my next strike, showing appreciation for my opponent's past piece, landing an axe kick directly to his face.

It was over in a beat. My leg smashing into his face, driving his body into the ground. The noise it made signifying its effect,

"Splack."

'Music to my ears.'

Still, I could feel it, the battle wasn't over yet; that would be far too short for a performance of this magnitude in front of so many adoring fans. It would be far too disappointing to both their hearts and their ears.

He got up. Motivated by sheer willpower alone, from the "strength" given to him by the cheers of his adoring fans, he got up despite his pain, not ready to accept his loss.

"So selfish, always wanting to be the star of the show." I shook my head at his act; however, I was inwardly proud of his growth, and however small of a part I had played in it.

Still, it was time, time to end this sonorous performance.

I would show my respect for his resolve, not caring for his current condition, not caring for the damage caused by his injuries. It was only right, to not keep him waiting for my final chord.

Thus, I struck forth with my 5-note melody, attacking all five of his vital points in harmony: his jaw, heart, liver, and each side of his knees in consecutive attacks, ending the symphony.

"WE HAVE A WINNER!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause as the announcer declared the victory. I stood there, panting slightly, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, feeling the power within my hands.

'It's all so simple.' I thought to myself, coming to a realization, and taking a new step forward on my martial path.

I shook my head at my past immaturity, realizing it stemmed from my reluctance to acknowledge the universal rule of survival. I had become entangled in the ideals of these so-called 'martial artists,' filling my head with nonsense while they themselves avoided the truth.

'Just win.'