Kaito burst through the door of the narrow apartment like a storm.
The place was lit with soft blue lights and the constant hum of half-finished machines spread across every surface. Tools buzzed in one corner, a robotic arm twitched from the floor and waved, like it was casually saying, 'Sup.
"Akira!" Kaito called out.
A messy head popped up from behind a mountain of quantum coils and snack wrappers. Black hair everywhere, goggles askew, socks completely unmatched.
"Kaito?" Akira Renzu blinked. "Dude, you look like you got drop-kicked by a bear."
"Worse," Kaito muttered, stepping in. "I found this."
He dropped the old book onto the only clean spot on Akira's desk. Dust exploded off it like it hadn't seen daylight in a century.
Akira raised an eyebrow, slid off his goggles, and leaned in.
The pages flipped like they had their own mood—soft, slow, like something was breathing through them.
This wasn't just some ancient junk.
It was a martial arts bible.
A full-on war manual.
Names jumped out like legends from a dream: Mas Oyama—the guy who literally punched bulls.Miyamoto Musashi—the undefeated dual-sword samurai.Bruce Lee, Helio Gracie, Lü Bu, Gichin Funakoshi, Yip Man, Jigoro Kano, Jon freakin' Jones...
Every single one had their own chapter. Each one like a sacred scroll—filled with their training, philosophies, battle tactics, and mindsets.
Kaito stared, barely able to breathe. His hands trembled.
"Why the hell was this hidden?" he whispered.
The air felt heavy—like static before a storm.
Akira flipped through a few more pages, then let out a low whistle. "Dude... this reads like an anime script."
"I'm not making this up."
"No, I believe you. I'm just saying... if this turns into a martial arts isekai, I call dibs on being the comic relief sidekick."
"I'm serious, man. What if it's real? What if we could actually find these guys?"
Akira paused, staring at him.
"You want to find legendary martial artists who are either dead, mythical, or straight-up from ancient China?"
"Yeah."
Another beat of silence.
"…Lucky for you," Akira said, getting up and casually stretching his arms, "I'm working on a time machine."
Kaito blinked. "Wait—what?"
Akira just shrugged and strolled over to a humming device in the corner. Wires sparked. A glowing core floated mid-air like a mini sun.
"Dead serious," he said.
The silence wasn't really silence anymore.
It hummed.