Boston

"Come on Miu, we have to win this tournament to help Ryozampaku's money problems." Kenichi declared as he led his girlfriend to the entrance of the historic Industrial Illusions Tower. 

The young Japanese martial artist sported a physique that would look good on a Magazine cover, tight and well contoured, an enviable body. Perhaps in an effort to stand out from his very basic looks, he sported a bandaid under one of his eyes. 

"Yeah, once we're done here, our money problems will be a thing of the past." Miu agreed with a wide smile. 

Contrary to her companion, Miu Furinji looked nothing like an average Japanese girl, and instead looked like a walking example of Aryan genetic superiority. Though a lifelong martial artist, her wildly over-developed sexual characteristics outshone her musculature absolutely. 

The purehearted joy on his girlfriend's beautiful face filled Kenichi with determination. He'd win this tournament the masters chose to skip out on and take home the cash prize that would offset any lacking fiscal responsibility from the patrons of the legendary dojo, Ryozampaku. Thoughts of skinny dipping with the stacked shorty in a lake of money prevented the young man from noticing the brick wall like quality of the other young man standing in front of the Industrial Illusions Tower lobby entrance, whom he plowed headlong into. 

Realizing his grievous error in manners and propriety, Kenichi rapidly entered begging forgiveness mode, saying 'I'm so sorry!' with incredible sincerity for such a minor oversight. 

Not even the sincerity of the angels could have broken through the thick shroud of indifference born by the other boy, who hadn't even moved despite the collision with the Mightiest Disciple. Kenichi realized the boy in front of him was another Japanese martial artist, the famous 'World's Strongest Kid' and champion of the Tokyo Dome's Underground Arena, Baki Hamna. 

Though of similar heights, coloring, and occupations, the two young men differed in several key areas, muscles most of all. While his time at the legendary dojo filled Kenichi's formerly sticklike body with mass, Baki looked thick with contractile tissue, his arms, legs, and neck all meaty and attached to a rippling core. Despite the significant difference in muscle mass, Kenichi had faith in his skills if it came down to a fight with the 'World's Strongest Kid'. He'd blast that beautiful boy's face with the power of his ki. 

While Kenichi reacted with such sincerity seeking forgiveness from Baki, the shortest of the Hanma boys neither reacted nor budged in regards to the sudden encounter. He maintained a glazed far away stare out over the stamped concrete driveway in front of the tower. 

"Um… hello? Are you even awake right now?" Kenichi felt himself growing quite frustrated with this brick wall of a person refusing to acknowledge his manners. 

That vacant gaze threw off Kenichi's calm, as if perfectly engineered to unnerve him. As if a thousand generations of his bullies distilled their fuckery into a single slack jawed face. It was enough to drive a man to dou ki. The mightiest disciple felt his frustration rising up from his gut, demanding to be let out in the form of harsh words. His mouth opened to vent these foul thoughts, but he froze in realization. 

Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, the bane of fighters the world over. Pegasus International brought this man out to ward off the faint of heart, a cautionary tail of fighters who have taken too many blows to the head. This young man, who should be in high school, will never grow up and be a man. Did he love someone the way Kenichi loves Miu? Was that love robbed away by some man's punch or kick? Kenichi felt his heart drop like a stone, heavy in chest. 

While the mightiest disciple underwent this emotional rollercoaster, a convoy of military vehicles pulled up the driveway, olive drab uniformed soldiers filling out to secure the paremeter. From the hummer in the center, parked perfectly in front of the lobby entrance, General Gerry Strydum emerged from the front seat, the scarred man's body a testament to the many battlefields of his life. The General stepped out, and like a butler held open the back seat door. 

Out from that heavy vehicle emerged a man fit for the Players Ball, perhaps even too luxuriously dressed for even that most gay of events. Nothing but pure silk touched his honey skin, and to pair with his big broad shoulders they'd garbed him in dead animals. Croc skin suit in black, red silk shirt, white tie with gold collar bar pin, and a full length mink fur coat leading down to a pair of shining black oxfords. 

Kenichi didn't know America had royalty, but quickly stepped away from the prince's path to the door. Realizing he'd left the saddening husk of what was once a great fighter behind, Kenichi turned to pull the other young man away, but saw something that reignited his fury. 

The once vacant face of Baki Hanma split into a grin at the sight of the Prince of America, and a fighter's light burned behind his formerly blank eyes.

'This bastard!' Kenichi screamed in his mind, 'Give me back my sympathy!'

"Hey, you're him, aren't you?" Baki called to the approaching prince, "Richard Hanma, the greatest black karate man ever?" 

"Oh no, now there's two of them." General Strydum lamented as the space between the half brothers shrunk and the life expectancy of the people on this block dropped with each step. 

Kenichi stared at the approaching prince as he blazed with aggressive dou ki, his seemingly endless killing intent on display put the pair from Ryozampaku on edge, triggering a strong fight or flight instinct. Baki seemingly felt none of this, and continued smiling brightly. 

"I've come to get that ass back." interrupted a new voice, and they all turned to see the lanky form of Bushido Brown. 

The former greatest black karate man stood tall and proud under the contemptuous gaze of the current greatest black karate man who chuckled dismissively and stated, "You don't have anything left worth taking."

'So cold!" thought Kenichi as he cringed from that diss. 

"I've come a long way since that fateful day." Bushido Brown announced as he took up a strong stance, "Taken my martial arts to new heights." 

"I beat that ass so hard you'd need to reach new heights just to understand the replay." Richard Hanma barked in laughter.

"Then it's a good thing I brought some new friends." Bushido swept his hand in silent introduction of the three old black folk beside him. 

A man in a in a floppy blue cap sneered at the youth before him, "We came a long way to kill ya over grown niglet, and now it's time for the big bonanza!" 

The only woman of the elderly trio looked more like she was on her way to a funeral than a fight, but waved her arms and entered a combat stance while saying, "You know what this is, sucka." 

Richard Hanma held his sides as he wheezed in laughter as he turned away from the challengers, "I can't believe you people right now!" he damn near cried from laughter, but stopped when the pair leapt overhead, forty feet through the air to land in the youth's way to the lobby. 

"Oh…" Richard released one last chuckled, "Ya'll are serious." 

The third and final member of the elderly trio pulled a crab trap from his coat attached to a long red silk cord. With a click, the trap projected razor sharp blades and the man began winding up for a throw. 

"Ol' Bushido Brown didn't have to look hard to find help hunting your too big black ass down." the final elder sounded like he'd spent the majority of his life smoking from his heavy rasp and weak voice, but projected proud strength in his moves, "We're always happy to put the hurtin' on uppity boys like you." 

The unarmed elderly pair darted in for a coordinated attack, punching and kicking with great agility. Richard easily evaded these strikes and proved his the rating on his fists are E for everyone when he delivered two counter body shots to the old woman before he teep kicked the man in his pot belly. The razor crab trap sailed in for an attack, releasing a ricochet whine as it cut through the air. Richard dodged this and the old man reeled it in for another go. 

Bushido Brown danced into frame, and released a pair of punches that put the speedy elders to shame. Kenichi felt the heat coming off those blows as Richard's mink fur coat rippled from the impacts of his blocks. The incredible athletic pair crossed high kicks, and Bushido back flipped over the incoming crab trap, that Richard parried away before front flipping to bring down a brutal spinning axe kick on the youth's high block that thundered across the driveway. 

Richard sent the man spiraling through the air as the unarmed elders came back for round two. 

Seeing the nearby general and his soldiers, Kenichi waved to get the man's attention then asked, "Shouldn't you stop this?" 

General Strydum released a stressed out laugh then answered, "This is way better for the local real estate values than a fight between him and his brother." then he looked over at the obvious anticipation on Baki's face and reconsidered before admitting, "Maybe not…" 

Richard smirked under his thick mustache after Bushido Brown landed a lighting fast one two on his chin. What should have been a lights out for near any man failed to break the power of thousand fold Japanese genetics tempered by two hundred fifty years of slavery. No amount of human skill could ever rock that chin, not without superhuman strength behind it. Bushido Brown's face as he danced back shown with the realization as his hands ached from near breaking after his gunshot-like force smashed them against that immovable object of a chin. 

"You old folk are tough as nails." Richard chuckled softly, causing the nearby Miu to quiver, "And I like beating your asses, but I think I've seen everything there was to see out of all of you." 

The next time that richocett roar sounded, Rachard caught the spinning razors by a blade between his fingers and thumb, then snatched the red silk cord with his other hand and gave it a whip. On the other end of the cord the old man screamed out in shock as his hands bled from where he previously held on to his flying weapon. Though it looked like Richard barely moved beyond a few seemingly slow manipulations of his hands, the flying razor crab trap blitzed around the parking lot intentionally just short of breaking the sound barrier. 

General Strydom was certain they'd have another bloody mess to mop up, but then the felt horrifically surprised when the clothes of Richard's assailants suddenly blew away in the breeze like confetti. 

"A pervert?" the General gasped in shock.

"Scram!" Richard shouted at the naked quartet then took a moment to admire the construction of the flying razor crab trap. 

Finding it to his liking he grinned and spoke to the weapon, "I'm keeping you." 

The young destroyer let the weapon hang over his shoulder and resumed his leisurely stride to the tower, stopping to look down at the feminine face of his older brother. The older brother looked up into the dark eyes of his sibling, so normally lazy but now bright with anticipation. 

"Hey, little brother." Baki drawled as their gazes locked, "Let's fight." 

The breath of the world hitched.

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