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Chapter 65 - Cutting Through the Ranks
🕑 Added 2025-09-20 12:00:40 +0000 UTCHakuya’s Andy Bogard started on the back foot, pressed hard by his opponent’s aggressive style. Hokkaido’s player wielded Terry Bogard like a tidal wave, chaining “Burning Knuckle” and “Power Wave” with relentless force, leaving Hakuya little room to breathe, aiming for a quick knockout.
Some unfamiliar spectators began to worry. “Can this kid handle it? He’s getting crushed.”
But Hakuya stayed calm. His fingers moved steadily on the joystick and buttons, Andy dodging nimbly, blocking precisely, and probing with quick pokes to minimize damage. He was waiting, biding his time for the inevitable crack in his opponent’s offense.
Finally, after a “Power Dunk” landed, a brief recovery lag appeared—near imperceptible to most. Hakuya’s eyes flashed.
Now!
Andy surged forward, a pinpoint low light kick connecting, followed by a fluid combo weaving “Rising Dragon” and “Phantom Shiranui.” Each input was swift and precise, shredding over half of Terry’s health. Hokkaido’s player, caught off guard, had no chance to counter, left reeling.
“K.O.!”
The giant letters blazed on the screen.
Hakuya took the first round. The crowd erupted in applause.
In the second round, Hokkaido’s player, rattled, pushed to even the score, but his mistakes piled up. Several reckless heavy attacks left gaping openings, easily dodged by Hakuya. Steady and merciless, Hakuya seized each chance, hammering with combos. A clean 2-0 victory secured Tokyo’s opening win.
Hakuya stood, bowing slightly to his station and the crowd, earning even louder cheers.
“This high schooler’s got it! So calm under pressure, finding that counter—mental toughness is unreal!”
“That combo was textbook perfect!”
Kenta Nagai, in the team area, nodded approvingly, a smile tugging at his lips. The kid didn’t disappoint.
Next, Hokkaido’s Midfield player took the stage, expression grim, reassessing Hakuya’s skill. He chose Mai Shiranui, aiming to counter Andy with agile projectiles and aerial attacks.
But Hakuya adapted after a few exchanges. His positioning sharpened, and his “Hisho Ken” timing was flawless, repeatedly knocking Mai out of the air mid-assault.
Hokkaido’s player sweated, realizing his moves were being read.
Hakuya, patient as a seasoned hunter, chipped away at his opponent’s health and confidence. Another 2-0, and Hakuya claimed another victory.
The crowd buzzed. “Is this kid about to sweep the whole team?”
“Hokkaido’s gotta hold on!” their supporters urged anxiously.
Hokkaido’s Anchor, a stern, bespectacled young man, stepped up, also choosing Andy Bogard.
“Oh? Andy mirror match! This’ll be good!” the commentator’s voice rose with excitement.
The opening was fierce, both players trading blows with tight skill. Hokkaido’s Anchor had solid fundamentals, matching Hakuya briefly. But in key moments, Hakuya’s superior spacing and move priority shone. He dodged pressure with subtle backsteps or disrupted rhythm with precise jumping attacks.
Hokkaido’s player grew frantic, a “Zan-ei Ken” rush predicted and punished by Hakuya’s perfect “Super Crack Shoot,” blasting him down.
“K.O.!”
First round, Hakuya won.
In the second, Hokkaido’s Anchor faltered, throwing reckless attacks that cost him. Hakuya, steady, whittled health with low heavy kicks, then capitalized on a mistake with a dazzling combo, finishing it.
“PERFECT K.O.!”
With a flawless victory, Hakuya toppled Hokkaido’s Anchor.
“Three straight wins! Hakuya single-handedly defeated Hokkaido’s entire team!” the host’s voice trembled with excitement.
The Budokan exploded—applause, cheers, and whistles deafening.
“This guy’s a monster!”
“Tokyo’s Vanguard is unreal—do Nagai and the others even need to play?”
“Hokkaido got smoked, haha!”
Hakuya stood, bowing calmly, his expression slightly more relaxed. Nagai clapped his shoulder with a grin, their teammate flashing a thumbs-up.
In the control room, Takuya Nakayama watched Hakuya on the screen, nodding with satisfaction. What an opening!
During the midday break, to shift the mood and showcase Sega’s broader portfolio, the big screens played Hang On and Out Run demos.
These sensory arcade racing games, with their realistic driving feel, were Sega’s pride.
The crowd clapped politely.
But compared to Fatal Fury’s raw, split-second intensity, the solo racing demos lacked the gripping rivalry and suspense.
The applause, though warm, carried less fervor than the fighting matches.
Among the crowd, a man quietly observed the screens and the audience’s reactions—Yuji Suzuki.
As the creator of Hang On and Out Run, he hoped for universal love for his work.
Yet he keenly noted the crowd’s energy dip, from the feverish fighting matches to the milder response to racing demos.
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he considered: perhaps audiences craved direct, head-to-head competition.
The afternoon matches continued.
Strong teams shone, and dark horses pulled upsets.
As the final quarterfinal qualifier ended, the first day’s schedule concluded.
The eight advancing teams were set.
Spectators left reluctantly, buzzing about the day’s highlights and tomorrow’s possibilities.
Journalists swarmed standout players like Hakuya, Nagai, and other favorites, hungry for quotes.
Takuya exhaled, his smile genuine and bright.
“Great work!” he told the operations team. “Keep this momentum!”
“Tomorrow’s the real battle!”
Fuji TV staff rushed the day’s footage back to the station, editing highlights to air before the evening news, broadcasting the Budokan’s heat to Japan’s homes.
Countless kids like Daigo Umehara sat glued to their TVs. He and his friends, hyped by Fuji TV’s previews, knew today’s highlights were coming. They’d finished dinner early, gathering at the electronics shop’s entrance, waiting for the broadcast to start.
