Year 2129.
Fighting wasn't what it used to be.
Now it was all filters and flair.
Martial arts had gone digital—clean, flashy, and made for the crowd. Fighters wore neural sensors and moved like dancers in motion-capture suits. AI judged the fights, scoring for style, not strength.
No one wanted pain anymore. They wanted a show.
Blood? Just special effects. Nothing real.
But under the city—far from the shiny lights and clean rules—real fights still happened.
"Winner: Han Kaito. KO in 37 seconds."
The busted old display board blinked red. The crowd roared—not with respect, but chaos.
Cheers, boos, someone threw an empty can at the cage.
Inside the ring, Kaito stood still.
His opponent was out cold, twitching on the floor. One punch. A brutal right hook. That's all it took.
Behind him, glitchy ads looped:
CyberMart Gloves – Hit With Style.
Energy Cola v9 – Fuel Your Violence.
Kaito ignored all of it.
Just stood there. Calm. Quiet. Eyes blank.
"YO! BRO! SERIOUSLY?!"
Manny pushed through the crowd, dodging two big dudes in glowing jackets, waving his tablet like a crazy sign. He ran right up to the cage.
"You knocked him out in thirty-seven seconds?! Thirty—seven?!"
Kaito finally moved, stepping through the cage door. The noise behind him faded as he walked into the hallway.
Manny chased after him, sneakers lighting up with every step.
"Dude! I told you to drag it out!" he shouted. "We had a sponsor watching! You were supposed to go two full rounds! We even had the countdown overlays ready!"
"I'm not here to dance," Kaito muttered, tossing his bloody towel into a bin. "He came in cocky. I finished him up."
"You finished it? Bro, you speedran the dude! People didn't even have time to type 'WTF' in the chat!"
Manny groaned and pulled at his blue hair.
"You shut everything down, man! The crowd barely booted up their cheer apps! Look!" He shoved the tablet in Kaito's face. "Engagement's tanking! Hashtags—dead. Memes—dry. Views—bleeding!"
Kaito pushed the tablet aside.
"You want views? Find some fighters who don't drop in one punch"
"Oh-hoh!" Manny clutched his chest like he'd been shot. "Okay, mister one-punch man. Cool cool. Just end my whole career, that's fine."
He followed Kaito into the locker room, still grumbling.
"Seriously though. You're killing me here. You remember what Yana said last time? 'Make it cinematic.' That's what she said."
Kaito raised an eyebrow. "Yana? The influencer manager with the neon nails?"
"Yeah, her. She got mad 'cause you didn't say a victory line into the mic."
"...Was I supposed to?"
"YES!" Manny flailed his arms. "We scripted three lines! You were gonna say, 'I don't have pain.exe' or something cool like that! I even installed a glitch filter to match!"
Kaito gave him a blank stare. "You want me to talk like a rejected anime villain?"
"Yes! Exactly that!" Manny said, proud.
"...You're insane."
"And you are boring," Manny shot back, tapping his tablet. "But somehow people still love you. You're like that brooding samurai in every old vid—they keep watching 'cause they wanna see if you'll finally smile or snap."
Kaito stared at his reflection in the mirror. Hair damp, jaw locked, blood on his knuckles.
"...This isn't fighting. It's acting. With real bruises."
Manny leaned against the lockers. "Maybe. But even actors need agents. And I'm the best damn one you've got."
"That's a low bar," Kaito muttered.
"True," Manny grinned. "But you're still here, aren't you?"
Silence. Then—
"You hungry?" Manny asked, softer this time. "Yoko's noodle bar is still open. You think better when you eat. And I think better when you're not about to get blacklisted."
Kaito grabbed his hoodie.
"...Tonkotsu."
Manny blinked. "Wait—was that a yes?"
Kaito walked past him.
"Extra egg."
Manny fist-pumped.
"Let's gooo! Character development, baby!"
Kaito didn't answer. But a small smirk crept onto his face.
In 2129, martial arts had become content.
But Kaito didn't fight for likes or views.
He fought to survive.
Because where he came from—
pain was the only thing that mattered.
And he knew it better than anyone__