After they agreed on the rules, a Martial Arts Club member went to find the club's faculty advisor.
Before long, a male teacher with a beer belly came over. He was the Martial Arts Club's faculty advisor.
After hearing the club president's report, the advisor gave Ken Kaneki and the other two a meaningful look, then took out his terminal.
"The school does not interfere with voluntary point wagers between students, provided they involve no violence or coercion outside the match." The advisor brought up an electronic agreement template. "But to avoid disputes afterward, both parties need to sign a point transfer contract."
Ken Kaneki took the terminal and glanced through the terms and conditions.
They were essentially consistent with the rules they had agreed on. The agreement stipulated a best-of-three contest: the first-years would receive three hundred thousand points for each win and lose one hundred thousand points for each defeat, with the school's system automatically processing the transfers.
He signed his name on the screen, and Koenji and Ayanokoji signed in turn.
On the other side, the Martial Arts Club president alone signed, using the club's name. With that, the contract took effect.
The president turned around and picked two people from the crowd.
The two whose names had been called stepped forward. Daiki was the Martial Arts Club's third-best fighter, while Yamashita was its second-best.
Although he held the new students in contempt, he still understood that even a lion hunting a rabbit used its full strength.
The Martial Arts Club president had already heard that someone had suffered a crushing loss against the first-years. He had no desire to stumble too and end up being mocked by everyone.
"Daiki, you take the first match. Yamashita, you take the second. I'll go last."
Seeing that the other side had settled their order, Ken Kaneki looked at the other two and asked with a smile, "What order should we go in?"
"I'll go first." It seemed Ayanokoji had not encountered anything like this in a long time, and he felt a little excited.
"Then I'll take the second match." Koenji raised an eyebrow and stated his preference as well.
Ken Kaneki nodded, and Kiyotaka Ayanokoji walked onto the mat without prompting.
Across from him, Daiki visibly relaxed when he saw that Ayanokoji was the one stepping up.
Compared with Ken Kaneki's and Koenji's imposing physiques, the well-proportioned Ayanokoji, who stood at 176 centimeters, looked completely harmless.
"Don't blame your upperclassman for picking on you, first-year brat." Daiki loosened his wrists, his tone casual. "I'll try to hold back so I don't send you to the infirmary."
Ayanokoji paid him no mind. He stood casually where he was, his hands hanging naturally at his sides.
Daiki's gaze darkened. He felt he was being looked down on.
He drove his right foot hard against the floor and charged forward with his massive frame, his right fist whipping straight toward Ayanokoji's face.
Ayanokoji did not dodge. He raised his left arm and intercepted the inside of Daiki's wrist with precision.
Thud.
His fist was stopped cold, and Daiki's expression changed. He felt as though his punch had struck a steel plate, the recoil leaving his knuckles aching.
Ayanokoji turned his wrist, redirecting his opponent's force as he leaned sideways and drove a short right punch into Daiki's ribs.
It was only a probing attack.
Daiki grunted and staggered back three steps. Steadying himself, he roared and lunged again, throwing a series of combination punches.
Ayanokoji shifted lightly on his feet, weaving between the punches. He was testing his opponent's speed, strength, and reflexes.
After three exchanges, Ayanokoji reached a conclusion.
Too weak. Far too weak. He wasn't even as good as the people eliminated from the White Room.
Daiki threw a powerful hook that hit nothing, leaving his center wide open.
Ayanokoji stopped retreating. He stepped forward with his left foot, moving inside Daiki's guard. Holding the fingers of his right hand together like a blade, he delivered a precise chop to the carotid artery on the side of Daiki's neck.
The force was controlled perfectly. Daiki's eyes rolled back, and he instantly lost control of his massive body. His knees buckled, and he crashed heavily onto the mat.
The entire room fell deathly silent.
The advisor was so shocked that he did not notice his glasses had slipped crooked. Dozens of Martial Arts Club members stood with their mouths open, unable to utter a word.
They did not understand what had happened. All they knew was that Daiki had been attacking furiously, keeping his opponent on the defensive.
Then that expressionless guy had casually raised his hand, and their club's third-best fighter had gone down and stayed down.
Kiyotaka Ayanokoji withdrew his hand and turned toward the edge of the mat. Ken Kaneki extended his right hand, and Koenji extended his left.
Ayanokoji paused for a moment at the sight of those two hands. Then he raised both hands and high-fived them in celebration.
Smack.
The crisp sound of their high five rang out distinctly in the quiet dojo.
Kiyotaka Ayanokoji returned to his spot and stopped. Looking at his palm, he felt his heart beating just a little faster than usual.
Was this what celebrating a victory with companions felt like? He did not dislike it. In fact, he even liked it a little.
"I'll take the second match."
Rokusuke Koenji strode onto the mat. He did not remove his uniform jacket, merely undoing two buttons on his shirt.
Yamashita swallowed and forced a walk onto the mat. Daiki's instant defeat had cast an enormous shadow over the fighter's mind.
Looking at the tall, muscular Koenji, Yamashita's legs began trembling uncontrollably.
"Hey, upperclassman, that expression is hideous. You're practically polluting my eyes."
Seeing the state of his opponent, Koenji began to taunt.
"Shut up!" Yamashita shouted, trying to drive away the fear with sheer volume. Raising a right leg, the fighter launched a high kick.
Koenji bent backward at an incredible angle, nearly parallel to the floor, and avoided the kick.
Then he planted one hand on the floor and sprang up, his right leg tracing a sharp semicircle through the air.
The edge of his leather shoe stopped beside Yamashita's temple. The powerful gust swept across Yamashita's cheek, leaving it stinging.
Yamashita froze in place, cold sweat instantly soaking the back of the shirt. The fighter knew that if that kick had landed, a stretcher would already have been necessary.
"You lost." Koenji lowered his leg, straightened the hem of his jacket, and turned to leave the mat.
Yamashita's legs gave out, and the fighter dropped straight into a sitting position on the floor.
Two matches, two wins.
The Martial Arts Club president stood at the edge of the mat, his face deathly pale. His breathing quickened as he watched Ken Kaneki walk toward the center.
Ken Kaneki's eyes betrayed no fluctuation, as though, to him, the outcome had long since been decided.
The president swallowed. His feet felt weighed down with lead, making it difficult to step forward.
Even that expressionless guy and that blond narcissist were so terrifying. Just how strong was this guy, who was clearly the core of the trio?
The image of Daiki lying unconscious flashed through the president's mind, followed by Yamashita's miserable figure slumped on the floor.
He still did not dare move.
"I..." The president opened his mouth, his voice dry.
"Are we still fighting?" Ken Kaneki asked evenly.
The president lowered his head, clenching his fists tightly before loosening them again.
"I concede." Saying those words seemed to drain the president of all his strength.
The room remained utterly silent. None of the club members spoke up to criticize the president, because they had felt that same suffocating pressure.
The advisor sighed and tapped his terminal a few times.
All three of their terminals immediately received notifications that the points had arrived. After checking and confirming that their balances had risen to four hundred thousand points, they got up and left.
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