My name is Red, and I love fighting.
I love fighting almost as much as I hate bullies. So when I figured out a way to combine the two, you can imagine the grin that spread across my face.
At the age of 15, I became the 'Delinquent Killer'. I'd roam schools across the country of Jepon, beating the absolute shit out of anyone who thought they were tougher than the world.
Now, at 18, I couldn't even tell you how many bullies I've smashed. All I know is I've never turned down a fight.
One-on-one. Two-on-one. Fuck it… five-on-one.
No matter how steep the odds stack against me, I've never backed down.
Why?
Simple. Most guys can't fight.
I learned that early on. When I first picked up this 'hobby,' I'd walk away with busted lips and black eyes, even if I won.
Over time, though, I started facing all sorts of fighters.
Big, small, fast, strong. I had to adapt if I wanted to keep doing what I loved most.
Sometimes, I even went up against trained fighters. Kids who practised boxing or wrestling. Those fights were the most thrilling.
But no matter how much I loved scrapping, I never bothered joining a martial arts school. To me, they seemed too rigid and limited.
For example, the time I travelled to Sakura School to take down Mike Layweather, a known girl-beater.
He caught me square in the jaw with a boxers straight, sending me crashing onto my ass. My vision blurred as I looked up, seeing nothing but a hulking figure ready to pounce and finish me off.
At that moment, my hand brushed against a nearby rock. A heavy one.
I grabbed it and smashed it into Mike's jaw. His head snapped back, brain rattled, and he collapsed on top of me, blood dribbling from his lips, out cold.
That level of raw violence… I doubted you'd find it in some dojo or amateur martial arts bout. It might not be true, but its what I believed.
So I steered clear of that world. In my mind, I'd always be the Delinquent Killer.
Or so I thought, until a few weeks ago, a man appeared on the news, broadcasting a speech to the entire world. His image blazed across billboards, TV screens. Everywhere.
His name… was King.
His face… cloaked in shadow.
Behind him stood the world's leaders. The most powerful men from every continent, yet it was King who spoke, his words reshaping the world of fighting as we knew it.
"Today, history resets itself."
"For centuries, we've asked the same question, over and over: Who is the greatest? Who stands at the peak of human potential? Who is the finest fighter this world has ever produced?"
"We've given answers: Olympic medals, championship belts, trophies stacked in glass cases. But none of them speak truth. Rules. Weight classes. Politics. Point systems. All shackles on the one thing that makes a fighter real: the will to destroy."
His voice was deep, commanding, like a blade cutting through silence.
"That ends now."
"With the blessing of every world leader and the backing of a thousand wealthy investors, we are forging a new foundation: a stage where every fighting style, every tradition, every legend will be tested."
"It will be called the Association of the Gods, and the one who reigns as champion will claim the prize of infinite wealth."
"A global organisation. One thousand investors will each choose their warrior. From the streets of Roi to the dojos of Kyota, from boxing gyms in Detron to wrestling pits in Irain: the search begins today. You have one month. You will hear from me soon."
---
As you can imagine, this shook the world to its core. Not just martial artists, but the investors too.
A thousand rich men and women had been chosen, each with the chance to earn themselves and their fighter 'infinite wealth'.
Whatever that meant.
Stadiums across the globe erupted into chaos, gearing up for fights on a scale never seen before.
No one knew the exact details of the battles, but one thing was clear: investors needed to find their fighters and get them to a major hospital for initiation.
At first, I thought this had nothing to do with me. I wasn't a famous martial artist or even a trained combatant.
But I was wrong.
I might not be a martial artist, but I was a notorious fighter in my city.
---
One evening, as I sat in my apartment eating lunch, a knock came at the door.
I got up to answer, annoyed at the interruption. But when I saw the man on the other side, that irritation vanished.
"Good evening. Are you Red, the Delinquent Killer?"
The man was absurdly short with wrinkled skin and a balding head. He wore a sharp suit, and perched on his shoulder was a sleek black cat, its eyes glinting like it was sizing me up.
I looked down at him, confused. "That's not my surname, but yeah. What's up?"
The small man nodded, his face tough for such an unremarkable figure. The cat's intense gaze didn't falter either.
"Delinquent Killer might not be your surname, but it's what everyone knows you by… Records say you've fought 143 delinquents?"
That made me pause. How the hell did he know the exact number?
Had the authorities finally caught up with me?
But I was doing the city a service, wasn't I? Why should I be punished?
I took a slow step back, but the man raised both hands, palms out, like he was surrendering.
"Oh no, you've misunderstood me. I'm not a policeman."
I froze, still cautious. Then the man reached into his pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it to me.
My eyes scanned its contents.
---
Wind of Hope.
Haruki Senzawa
Student Therapy – Peer Support Counsellor
Helping students facing bullying, anxiety & isolation
📍 Floor 7, Hayinama Tower
📞 ***** *** ***
You're not alone. Let's talk.
---
A therapist for students? I've heard of this company before.
Wind and Hope...
Then it clicked, and it seemed the man noticed my realisation.
This was a giant company... they operated all across the world.
They might have been just rich enough to become one of the top 1000 companies in the world.
A faint smile tugged at the small mans lips as he asked me.
"How would you like to become a fighter for the Association of the Gods?"