Should I Feel Guilty...?

This was an empty warehouse, with no goods stored inside. Instead, a makeshift ring had been marked out in the center, with a layer of sand and dirt scattered across the floor.

At a glance, the underground fighting arena was extremely crude, even worse than the Sanjigumi's temporary setup for Shiraki Uke versus Komada.

Crude as the venue was, it hadn't dampened the crowd's enthusiasm.

More than a hundred people surrounded the ring, men and women alike. Most were thugs or low-ranking yakuza, apparently there to kill time, and their shouts and cries never stopped.

"..."

Since this was an illegal event, there were naturally underlings keeping watch. They spotted Shiraki Uke's unfamiliar face, came over to question him, and demanded an admission fee.

Shiraki Uke paid, and the underling went over a few rules, such as no filming with phones, causing trouble, or starting fights...

The underling wasn't particularly professional, but he didn't do anything out of line either. He was plainly just going through the motions.

It wasn't hard to tell that while the organizers of this underground fighting event weren't complete amateurs, they were clearly still at the bottom of the industry.

An organization like that couldn't put on high-quality fights, making it hard to draw a large audience.

But when it came to "women's fighting," things were different.

Compared with the men's division, where bloodshed, savagery, and violence were turned up to the maximum, women's fights had another way to attract an audience: "sex appeal."

That was another survival trick for bottom-tier organizations.

Since he was already here and had paid, he might as well find a spot and watch the fights properly.

Shiraki Uke squeezed through the crowd toward the ring.

The match had already started, and the atmosphere was heating up. The spectators were getting fired up too.

"Get her! Take her down! Kill her!"

"Haha, what luck tonight! We get to see a 'famous fighter' for pocket change..."

"Quit dawdling, follow up! Tear her clothes off!"

"Take it off already!"

"..."

This was women's fighting, after all, and plenty of spectators had other things in mind.

Some of their remarks caught Shiraki Uke's attention. The words "famous fighter," for instance, had piqued his curiosity.

He looked closely at the ring.

The woman currently in control had short hair tied into twin tails and wore a sports tank top and shorts. She was solidly built, with firm, powerful muscle definition.

Shiraki Uke had seen her before—on a television news report by the roadside.

Her name was Tojo Ran, the former Japanese super featherweight champion of WWBC boxing!

Her career record was eight wins and two losses, one of them a loss by disqualification for a foul. An incident in which she injured someone had cost her eligibility to compete, and she had disappeared from sight afterward.

Fighters like Tojo Ran, with a long list of past offenses and no way back into the "legitimate professional" scene, generally had two choices.

They could stop there, retire from frontline competition altogether, and become a coach or take some other job;

Or they could go "underground"!

Tojo Ran had clearly chosen the latter. Judging by her condition, she'd probably made the transition without missing a beat, ready to make her mark in the underground fighting ring.

Getting to see a "famous fighter" of this caliber had already made the admission price worthwhile.

Unfortunately, Tojo Ran's "opponent" seemed a little lacking in strength. She was being beaten back step by step, making the fight hardly entertaining.

Bang! Bang!

After another brief exchange of attack and defense, Tojo Ran and her opponent each stepped back a few paces, adjusting their breathing and resetting their stances.

The referee, who doubled as the commentator, shouted excitedly, "There it is! The signature stance of the genius boxer Tojo Ran, the famous Philadelphia Shell Defense!"

"..."

Shiraki Uke happened to be facing Tojo Ran, so he could see her clearly.

The Philadelphia Shell Defense originated in the Philadelphia Boxing School and was the signature technique of boxing champion Floyd Mayweather. It relied on coordinating the shoulders and hands, bringing a broad shoulder forward to deflect an opponent's heavy punches and combining defense with counterattacks.

True to her status as a professional boxer, Tojo Ran made full use of her physical advantages.

"I'm going to win this match..."

Tojo Ran swung her forearm and, as usual, taunted her opponent.

"I hear you used to be the 'champion' of some old underground fighting organization, but you're just an 'underground champion.'"

"When you get right down to it, 'underground fighting' is just where all the trash who can't make it as 'professionals' gather. I used to compete at the professional top level. You're no match for me."

"Don't worry, I'll kill you quickly!"

Whoosh!

Tojo Ran stepped forward and fired an extremely fast jab.

Shiraki Uke could see it clearly. Though both were "agile," Tojo Ran favored striking fast and pulling back fast, unlike Kure Fusui's close-quarters fighting style.

Combined with her shell defense, what Tojo Ran threw wasn't an ordinary jab, but a Flash Punch launched from below, with a harder-to-predict trajectory!

Whoosh—bang!

Tojo Ran hit her opponent again and followed up with an uppercut to her chest. Her opponent staggered back several steps, trembling, then crouched at the edge of the ring, struggling to catch her breath.

"...Hm?"

Shiraki Uke suddenly noticed something.

There was clearly something wrong with Tojo Ran's punches. Though she wore boxing gloves, their power far exceeded that of the Flash Punch itself. She had probably slipped something hard into her gloves.

True to her reputation as a boxer with a long list of offenses, she had quickly adapted to the "underground style."

In underground fighting, a trick like that was like cheating at gambling. As long as it went undetected, it didn't matter; being able to keep pulling tricks was a skill in itself.

Unfortunately, that meant the fight wasn't much use to Shiraki Uke as a reference.

The feel of the "technique" wasn't to his liking!

"..."

Shiraki Uke was about to leave when he caught sight of Tojo Ran's "opponent"—the girl crouched on the ground, gasping for breath. His gaze was drawn to her before he knew it.

...What a stance!

Although she was at a disadvantage, the girl's fighting stance was clearly more solid than that of the trick-playing Tojo Ran. She even gave the impression of being more "experienced."

Strangely, though, the girl was unsteady on her feet, as if she had no strength left and had gone hungry for a long time.

That was very odd.

After all, anyone who made a living in the underground fighting world would know how important it was to eat their fill.

Even during the hardest period for Shiraki Uke's family—before his fight with Nioh Komada—he had made sure to eat beforehand. There was no way to fight a match on an empty stomach.

And from what Tojo Ran had said, the girl was no novice either. How had she ended up unable to afford a meal?

"Ora! Die!"

Tojo Ran slid forward, aiming a Flash Punch straight at the girl's face.

The girl took a deep breath. Judging by her stance, she intended to meet it with her forehead, but her stomach was empty and she was short on energy, making her a fraction too slow.

Bang!

Tojo Ran struck her on the bridge of the nose, sending blood spraying everywhere. The blood from her nose mingled with the blood at the corners of her mouth and dripped onto the ring.

Thud!

Tojo Ran pressed the attack, smashing an elbow into the girl's chest and knocking her back several paces. She fell with a thump at the edge of the ring, her breathing coming in broken gasps.

"Cough... cough..."

The girl had fallen right in front of Shiraki Uke. He could even hear her stomach rumbling; she really did seem to be starving.

Seeing the girl in such a sorry state, the spectators began talking among themselves, all convinced that tonight's match was decided.

The girl heard them too. Her pained expression suddenly went blank, as though she had been starved to the limit and beaten until her whole body ached, only to become briefly clearheaded.

"I'm going to lose... Huh? Am I really going to lose?"

"Huh? You've got to be kidding! I'm Li Youba, the genius kung fu girl..."

Chapter 42: Should I Feel Guilty...?

Because of where she had been standing, the girl had kept her back to Shiraki Uke the whole time. Only now, with her lying on her back, could he finally see what she looked like.

She wore a red sleeveless Chinese-style outfit with black trousers and cloth shoes, along with fighting gloves.

She was around twenty, with her hair casually tied in a bun and a touch of red makeup at the outer corners of her eyes.

"..."

The girl's face brought memories flooding back to Shiraki Uke.

Her name was Li Youba, a female underground fighter whose fighting style was Zhenyi Liuhequan, known for its extraordinarily powerful release of force.

As Shiraki Uke recalled, Li Youba was the women's champion of the Killing Martial Arts Tournament, a mid-tier underground fighting organization. She was a formidable fighter and had made something of a name for herself in the underground fighting world.

Why had a skilled fighter like her come here to take part in such a low-level match?

—And she was about to lose?!

No, losing was understandable, considering how much hunger affected her. But that brought him back to the question: why was Li Youba so hungry in the first place!?

...Wait.