February 14, 2013, Thursday, 8:45 am, Meiji Jingu Gaien Ice Skating Rink...
A thick tension blanketed the rink, its chill no longer from the ice but from the growing hostility in the air. The situation had escalated beyond mere intimidation; the brute hockey players, emboldened by their numbers, loomed like wolves encircling prey.
Akato stood his ground, facing Hajime Onizuka's panicked yet quickly darkening expression. Across the rink, Benikiba, Miruko, Reika, Asuka, and Ino watched in stunned silence, their eyes flickering between Akato and the man he had just outplayed.
What dumbfounded them wasn't just the confrontation but the hidden camera in Miruko's possession.
"When the hell did you plant this on me?" Miruko demanded, gripping the small device between her fingers.
Before she could blurt out the name Elric, Ino moved fast, clamping a hand over her mouth.
"Shut it," he hissed, keeping his gaze on Onizuka.
Akato, unphased, offered a casual shrug. "My brother Elric slipped it on you during lunch back at the cafeteria."
Miruko's mind reeled. "Brother? What kind of half-baked excuse was that?" But then, realization struck. Elric was using an alias and playing dumb, throwing Onizuka off his trail.
Akato further insulted Onizuka with words sharp enough to tick him off. "You are nothing but a low-level grunt of a brute with a small brain who got himself in trouble. Imagine how pissed off your boss or whoever you working for hears about the hidden camera shenanigans..."
Onizuka, meanwhile, stood frozen in stunned silence, his bewilderment morphing into something far more dangerous... rage. His lips curled back, teeth bared like a cornered beast. "You... bastard." His voice was low, shaking with fury.
Elric's words had set off a chain reaction. The idea that a hidden camera had been recording their movements and possibly gathering evidence was enough to send panic rippling through Onizuka and his lackeys. Worse still, who knew if there were more?
The hockey coach's face contorted in fury. "You think this is funny, shrimp?!" he roared.
With a sharp whistle, he summoned his hockey team. Eleven players rushed to their leader, their aggressive gaits betraying their eagerness for violence. They were built like bulldozers, their thickly padded uniforms making them look even more imposing. Their expressions, twisted grins, and narrowed eyes made it clear they were ready to tear Akato apart.
"You're screwed, dumbass," one of them sneered.
"You really think your little toy is gonna save you?" another taunted.
The outer rink felt smaller with each second, the predatory gleam in their eyes making it clear they were eager to turn this into a full-blown massacre on ice.
Miruko, Reika, and Asuka stood frozen in place, barely breathing. The tension had thickened to a breaking point. Benikiba and Ino stood firm as if they were untouched by fear.
Yet, before the first punch was thrown, Akato lifted a hand.
"Hold up," he said, his voice calm and controlled. "How about a game of Ice Tag?"
The suggestion was so absurd that for a brief second, the hockey team actually hesitated.
Onizuka scoffed. "The hell are you on about?"
Akato tilted his head. "Simple. If you win, you can do whatever you want. Hell, beat me senseless if that's what you're after."
The hockey players exchanged confused glances, but Onizuka remained unmoved.
"Why would I waste my time? I can just beat the crap outta you now and take the damn camera."
Akato mockingly smirked. "Sure. But how do you know I don't have more cameras hidden all over the rink? Maybe even on some of your own teammates?"
When those words left his mouth, uncertainty spread like wildfire among Onizuka's crew. Some of them immediately checked their jerseys and gloves, their dimwitted paranoia showing.
Akato pressed on. "Let's make a deal. If you win, I hand over every evidence I have, and you get to rule this place however you like. No restrictions."
Onizuka narrowed his eyes. "…And if you win?"
"Then you and your little goon squad are permanently banned from this rink," Akato said smoothly. "No second chances. No trouble. You disappear, or you deal with the authorities."
A heavy silence followed.
Onizuka weighed the odds. His team was built for the ice. Akato? Just some lone idiot.
He turned to his teammates, the low murmur of scheming filling the rink.
Would they take the bait?
As the hockey team bickered amongst themselves, throwing out theories and half-baked strategies, Benikiba and Miruko took the opportunity to press "Akato" for answers.
"What exactly are you planning?" Benikiba asked, narrowing her eyes. She was still tending to Miruko's injuries, but her focus was razor-sharp.
Miruko winced but nodded in agreement. "Yeah. You're playing with fire, and you know it."
Akato merely lifted a hand and pointed an unspoken message that now wasn't the time to spill details. His expression remained unreadable, but the subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips hinted at something brewing beneath the surface.
Before they could press further, Onizuka stomped back toward them, his face twisted with barely contained fury.
"Fine," he growled, the word leaving his mouth like venom. "We'll play your little game."
Akato clapped his hands together mockingly as if delighted. "That's the spirit. I'll even be generous and take your time to prepare. We start at 10:30 am."
Onizuka's scowl deepened. "Tch. Whatever."
But Akato wasn't done. He raised a hand to his chin, pretending to think. "Oh, and don't forget to check for more hidden cameras. Who knows? There might be another one lurking around." He shot Onizuka a playful wink.
That was the final straw. Onizuka's entire body stiffened as his hands curled into fists. His whole team stood awkwardly behind him, unsure whether to laugh or be just as furious. He was being toyed with, and he knew it.
But, instead of snapping, Onizuka turned on his heel and stormed off, forcing himself to swallow his anger; he couldn't afford to add more to his plate right now.
As the hockey team temporarily left, Akato turned back to face the others, only to be met with wide-eyed stares.
His makeshift team, Benikiba, Asuka, and Ino, stood frozen, trying to process what happened. Miruko and Reika were stunned.
Then, Asuka snapped.
"The hell are you thinking?!" The former Olympian stormed forward, his frustration evident in every step. "You just baited a group of violent hockey players into a death match on ice! Do you even understand how much trouble this is?!"
Akato, unfazed, met his glare with his usual nonchalance. "Relax. It's not a death match. It's ice tag."
"That's not better!" Asuka replied.
Benikiba, who had been applying first aid to Miruko's broken ribs, sighed tiredly. "And what's with the name Akato?" she asked, frowning. "Why the alias?"
Even Reika, who had been quiet up until now, looked equally bewildered.
Miruko, despite her injury, still had the energy to throw Akato a sharp look. "Yeah, why Akato?"
Ino, however, remained silent. His arms were crossed, his expression neutral, but a glint in his eyes; he knew something.
Akato sighed, his usual smug demeanor dipping just slightly. Then, his voice dropped to something colder.
"The alias will turn Onizuka and his associate's brains inside out." He smirked, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes before his tone darkened.
"I'm getting dirt on Onizuka," he admitted. "The real stuff. Something that'll end him."
He let his words hang, watching as realization dawned on them.
And then, his final words came like a cold gust of wind. "…Right before I bury him in court."
Same Location, 10:30 am...
The ice rink had grown eerily silent, the usual hum of conversation and the scrape of skates replaced by an air of quiet anticipation. The tension was suffocating.
On one side of the rink, the hockey team stood assembled, a wall of padded brutes ready for a hunt armed to the teeth with their hockey sticks. Their numbers had doubled, twelve players instead of the standard six. Front and center, Onizuka sneered, arms crossed over his broad chest. His grin, sharp and cruel, dripped with malice.
He wasn't just playing against Akato. He wanted to tear him apart.
In his mind, the hatred festered like an open wound. Akato, Elric, whoever he was, was getting in the way of his business. And anyone who dared interfere with Onizuka's operations would pay dearly. He still didn't understand the full story behind the alias, but it didn't matter. He would make sure Akato regretted ever challenging him.
Across the rink, the figure skaters and their coaches sat on the sidelines. Some looked on in confusion, others in worry. This wasn't a normal hockey match; something felt off.
Miruko, who had just recovered from Benikiba's healing application, sat alongside her, Reika, Ino, and Asuka. The weight of unease settled over them. No words were spoken, but their collective concern was the same.
Then, a flashback earlier, just before 10:30 am.
Benikiba and Asuka stared at Akato like he had lost his mind.
"You want who to watch this?" Asuka had demanded, voice tight with disbelief.
"The young figure skaters. And their coaches," Akato had replied, voice unwavering.
Benikiba's brows furrowed. "Why?"
Ino, who had been standing off to the side, said nothing. He simply listened, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Akato leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with an easygoing smirk. "I'm not fighting them head-on." His tone was casual, but there was an undeniable certainty in his words.
Benikiba's eyes narrowed. "Then what exactly are you doing?"
Akato's smirk widened, "I'm skating."
A beat of silence.
Asuka blinked. "You're… what?"
Akato exhaled through his nose as if explaining the obvious. "I won't fight them. I'll outmaneuver them before the time limit." His gaze flicked toward the rink, where the young skaters practiced their jumps, spins, and footwork. "I want to show the kids and their coaches that figure skating isn't just for competitions."
His voice took on a sharper edge, "It can be a game-changer."
Benikiba exchanged a glance with Asuka. Neither of them was convinced yet.
But Akato wasn't finished. "But…" he added, his smirk fading slightly, "we need a backup plan."
Ino finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "You're worried they'll break their word."
Akato nodded. "If they do, Benikiba, you'll start an evacuation."
Benikiba's expression hardened, understanding what he meant.
"I don't want the kids to see a bloody scene." Akato's voice was dead serious now. "That's the last thing I want them to remember from today."
Back to the Present…
Asuka sat on the bench, arms crossed, lost in thought. He replayed Akato's plan over and over in his mind. It was reckless. It was absurd. And yet… there was a method to the madness.
Before he could dwell on it any longer, a familiar pair of voices snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Well, well, if it isn't Asuka Kenshiro, still brooding like an artist contemplating his next masterpiece."
A sharp scoff followed. "Or maybe he's finally realized his coaching methods are outdated."
Asuka stiffened before turning toward the two men standing beside him. Arjun Rao and Wei Zhao.
His old friends and rivals.
The three had clashed many times during their Olympic years, competing for podium finishes and glory on the ice. Now, they had stepped off the rink to guide the next generation, each with their own training philosophies.
Arjun Rao, now a successful businessman from India, smirked with his usual shrewd charm. "I half-expected to see you drowning in nostalgia, but instead, I find you tangled up in… whatever this is." He motioned toward the rink with amusement.
Wei Zhao, a decorated martial artist and skating coach, stood with arms crossed, his sharp gaze assessing the scene before him. "No surprise. Asuka always finds the most unorthodox ways to get involved in chaos."
Their friendly banter immediately drew the attention of the others.
Benikiba, who had been quietly observing, raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell are these two?"
Miruko and Reika looked equally curious, though Reika seemed a bit more intimidated by the imposing presence of the foreign coaches.
Asuka exhaled through his nose, half-exasperated but mostly resigned. "This," he gestured vaguely, "is Arjun Rao, a businessman who thinks he's a coach."
Arjun grinned. "And a damn good one."
"And this," Asuka motioned to the other man, "is Wei Zhao, a martial artist disguised as a skating coach who thinks everything can be solved with discipline."
Wei smirked. "It usually can."
Before anyone could react, two younger skaters arrived.
Anaya Rao and Lian Zhao.
Anaya's gaze locked onto Reika immediately. Her expression brightened, but there was a glimmer of something else: a competitive edge.
"So you're the late bloomer I keep hearing about," Anaya said, arms crossed but her tone friendly.
Reika blinked. "You've… heard of me?"
Arjun chuckled. "Of course. News of a girl jumping through training levels like a madwoman tends to spread."
Anaya smirked at Reika, leaning in slightly. "I hope you're ready to push yourself because I don't take it easy on potential rivals."
Reika swallowed. The friendly but competitive dynamic between them was already forming.
Meanwhile, Lian Zhao remained quiet. His arms were crossed, his sharp gaze assessing Reika. He didn't say much, but the way he tilted his chin slightly downward spoke volumes.
To him, she was a late bloomer.
Someone not worth taking seriously yet.
Arjun and Wei, meanwhile, turned their attention to Benikiba. The moment their amused expressions landed on her, she immediately sensed trouble.
Wei was the first to smirk. "So, the rumors are true. Benikiba, the infamous figure skater with an attitude problem."
Benikiba twitched.
Arjun stroked his chin, eyes glinting with mischief. "I hear you've left a trail of bruised egos in your wake. Quite the reputation."
Benikiba's eyes darkened instantly. "Oh, you wanna test that theory?" she growled, cracking her knuckles.
Miruko and Ino sat silently, choosing not to get involved as the brewing debacle between Benikiba and the two foreign coaches escalated.
Their humorous, tension-filled conversation was abruptly interrupted by a loud noise from the speakers.
The air shifted. The game was about to begin. All heads turned toward the entrance of the changing room as the challenger finally emerged.
Akato stepped out from the shadows. His attire was unusual.
For the first time since the challenge was issued, everyone realized this wasn't just a game anymore.
Asuka introduced Arjun and Wei to the representatives of the figure skaters, his voice steady but his thoughts racing. Akato wasn't normal.
That much was obvious.
Asuka had observed him carefully from the moment he stepped onto the ice. His balance, movements, and how he controlled his weight on the skates were too refined. His skills were too practiced.
A thought lingered in his mind. Was Akato intentionally hiding his true abilities?
The question was soon answered. As the attention in the rink shifted, Akato finally emerged in full view, revealing his attire. It was a professional figure skater's uniform but with an unorthodox design.
The high collar had a coral-like structure with soft pink hues, resembling something almost organic in its beauty. The black and white stripes flowed seamlessly down Akato's torso and into his pants, mimicking the elegant yet deadly pattern of a lionfish or the shifting currents of a river.
But what stood out the most, what made the air in the rink suddenly feel heavier, was the cloth wrapped around Akato's waist. A stunning blue fabric embroidered with intricate floral patterns. And on it, a single Korean letter.
A sharp gasp cut through the silence. All eyes turned to Wei Zhao. His normally stoic face had completely drained of color. His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he simply stared. Then, his jaw dropped.
Wei took an unsteady step forward, eyes locked on Akato's waist. The realization hit him like a thunderbolt. "This… this can't be." His voice was barely a whisper. "That cloth… that symbol…"
Arjun furrowed his brows. "Wei, what's gotten into you?"
Asuka, however, had already begun to understand. The moment he heard the trembling in Wei's voice, a cold sensation crawled down his spine.
When Wei finally spoke the name, shockwaves flowed through Asuka and Arjun. "Jisoo Hwang."
The moment the name was uttered, Asuka and Arjun visibly tensed and gasped out of shock.
"…No way." Arjun's voice was barely above a whisper.
Asuka's hands curled into fists. "You're telling me that… he trained under Jisoo Hwang?" His voice had lost its usual confidence.
The others, Benikiba, Miruko, Reika, Anaya, Ino, and Lian, exchanged confused glances. The name meant nothing to them. But from the looks of horror and disbelief on the faces of the three veteran skaters, it clearly meant something to them.
"… Who's Jisoo Hwang?" Miruko finally asked, her voice cutting through the tension.
Benikiba crossed her arms. "Yeah, who the hell is she? And why do you three look like you've seen a ghost?"
Wei let out a slow breath as if gathering himself. Then, he revealed the truth.
"Jisoo Hwang was one of South Korea's most legendary figure skaters forty years ago. She won her homeland's national figure skating tournament, taking first place with an undisputed performance."
His eyes darkened. "But Jisoo's victory sparked resentment. Angered by her success, a rival sponsor decided to ruin her career. They orchestrated a plan, a nasty, underhanded scheme to not only humiliate her but also to destroy her sponsor's reputation."
Benikiba frowned. "Let me guess. It didn't go as planned."
Wei nodded gravely. "Not even close."
He continued, his tone carrying a mixture of awe and dread. "The sponsor hired a group of men to stage an attack. They were supposed to catch her alone, rough her up, make it look like an accident just enough to cripple her career."
Wei's lips twitched as if recalling an old legend. "But when the dust settled…" He let out a humorless chuckle. "They weren't the ones standing.
"They were found nailed to the walls of the alleyway. Some of them were knocked unconscious, others… were found stuffed headfirst into trash bins."
A heavy silence followed. The younger skaters and onlookers looked stunned.
Miruko blinked. "She fought them off?"
Wei gave a slow nod. "All of them. Jisoo had trained in Tae Kwon Do since childhood. Those men never stood a chance."
Benikiba exhaled sharply. "Damn. No wonder Jisoo Hwang sounded familiar. I tried to use her methodology but was frustrated by its difficulty."
"After that incident," Wei continued, "Jisoo earned an infamous reputation. The media started calling her: 'The Most Violent Figure Skater in the World.'"
Reika, Anaya, and Lian shivered slightly at the title.
Wei's expression softened slightly as he continued. "Jisoo retired from competitive figure skating and became a coach. But her training methods…" He hesitated, shaking his head. "They were brutal. She incorporated her martial arts philosophy into her coaching, and very few students could handle her discipline."
Asuka finally spoke, his voice low. "She disappeared from the scene about eight years ago."
Wei nodded. "Yes. She retired to her family's farm at the age of fifty-six. But before she disappeared… she did one last thing."
He pointed at the blue cloth around Akato's waist. "She named a successor."
The weight of those words settled over the group.
Anaya's eyes widened. "Wait… so you're saying..."
Wei stared directly at Akato, his expression unreadable. "That cloth is proof. A unique design given only to the one Jisoo deemed worthy of carrying her legacy."
Ino finally broke his silence. "And no one knows who she chose?"
Wei shook his head. "No. The identity of her successor was never made public." He exhaled, still processing the revelation. "Until now."
Slowly, all eyes turned toward Akato.
Asuka's voice was almost disbelieving as he whispered, "I've been talking to the successor of Jisoo Hwang this whole time?"
Akato remained silent. But his confident smirk said everything.
Akato skated onto his side of the ice rink with effortless grace, his movements controlled and deliberate. Every shift of his weight was fluid, each step precise. He stopped with a poised stance, balancing momentarily before casually gesturing toward his opponents, signaling his readiness.
Across from him, twelve hockey players, their numbers doubled from the usual six, cracked their knuckles and tensed in anticipation. Their eyes locked onto him with hunger and aggression, like a pack of wolves preparing for the hunt. Onizuka stood at the front, his grin wide and cruel. He had no intention of treating this as a simple game; he wanted to destroy Akato. Though he remained unaware of the alias, he despised anyone who got in his way, be it Akato, Elric, or whoever dared to challenge him.
His gaze flicked over Akato's attire, and his grin twisted into a sneer. "What the hell is that supposed to be? Pink? Really? You look like a damn flower fairy." A few hockey players chuckled at the insult, feeding off their leader's bravado.
Akato remained unfazed. If anything, his smirk only deepened. "You wouldn't understand. This isn't just color. It's a new manliness beyond brute force and empty intimidation." He ran a hand along his uniform's flowing black and white stripes. "As for the pattern, it's based on the lionfish. Ever heard of it?"
The hockey players didn't respond, but a flicker of uncertainty passed through their expressions.
Akato's smirk widened. "It's one of the most venomous creatures in the ocean. Beautiful but deadly. If you touch it… you'll regret it."
Several players hesitated at the word venomous, their confidence faltering just slightly. Even if they knew Akato wasn't poisonous, something about how he said it made them uneasy. Onizuka, however, was unfazed. If anything, he was even angrier. His jaw clenched, his fists curling tightly at his sides.
"Enough with the metaphors. Let's get this over with. I'm going to break your damn legs," Onizuka spat.
Akato nodded nonchalantly. "Fine. Let's go over the rules." He raised three fingers. "One: the chasers can catch the target by any means necessary. Two: the target is not allowed to attack, only evade. Three: the time limit is ten minutes. No more, no less. If the time limit passes, I win."
Onizuka listened carefully, then scoffed. "Fine. But don't think for a second that this will be easy." His smirk hinted at something else, an underhanded trick, a plan already set in motion.
With the rules established, the players moved into position. Akato stood still at his starting spot, his posture relaxed yet perfectly balanced, while the hockey players spread out strategically, preparing to cut him off when the game began.
A coach, who had been assigned to officiate, held the blowhorn at the sidelines. He looked increasingly uneasy, his grip tightening on the device as he glanced between Akato and the twelve players. The hockey team was practically vibrating with anticipation, their bodies coiled like springs, ready to explode forward the second the horn sounded.
Akato, however, was different. He remained still, completely unmoved. Not a single muscle in his body was tensed in preparation, and there was no nervous shifting of weight, no indication that he was bracing for the chase.
The coach hesitated. His gut told him something was off. Why wasn't Akato reacting? Was this part of some trick?
The tension in the rink was suffocating. The silence dragged on for just a few seconds too long.
Then, the coach panicked.
His hand jerked forward, and the air was filled with a deafening blast of the blowhorn.
In an instant, the hockey players launched forward like a tidal wave. Their skates dug into the ice, momentum propelling them at terrifying speed as they charged straight at Akato.
But Akato?
He still hadn't moved.
The hockey team surged forward, blades carving deep into the ice as they closed in on their target. Twelve players. Their sheer numbers alone should have cornered him within seconds.
Yet, Akato was already in motion.
One of the brutes lunged, aiming to tackle him head-on. But the moment his arms reached forward, Akato was gone.
It was as if a ghost had passed right through him.
The player's momentum carried him forward, his hands grasping nothing but air. He stumbled slightly, spinning on his skates, utterly bewildered. Had he just gone through him?
Of course not. That was just an illusion, a trick of speed, positioning, and perception.
Akato hadn't disappeared. He had merely slipped through the edges of the player's field of vision, lingering at the very threshold of their awareness. A calculated movement, weaving into their blind spots, where their eyes struggled to register his presence.
The hockey players hesitated for the first time.
The crowd had gone silent.
Asuka, Arjun, Wei, and their students stood frozen, stunned by what they had just witnessed. Their eyes flicked between the stunned hockey player and Akato, who had resumed his graceful, weightless stance.
Miruko, having just been joined by the Muto Twins, took a sharp breath. Ichiro and Hiroki had arrived only moments ago, but even they were floored by what they had seen.
"Did he just… phase through him?" Hiroki muttered, his eyes narrowing.
Benikiba and Ino exchanged looks.
"Is he using a Cursed Technique?" Benikiba asked, gripping her jacket.
Ino, ever the observer, was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "No," he murmured. "It's not a Cursed Technique."
"Then what the hell was that?"
"A magic trick," Ino replied, his eyes never leaving the ice. "A very well-executed one. It's simple misdirection, making the opponent believe they can touch you when, in reality, you were never where they thought you were. He's using their own eyes against them."
On the ice, the hockey team grew frustrated.
More players lunged at Akato, reaching, desperate to grab hold of him. But each time, their hands met nothing.
Akato slipped past them like a whisper of wind.
The crowd gasped as he effortlessly evaded every grasping hand as if he weighed nothing. Their aggressive and forceful movements meant nothing against someone who refused to resist them.
The elegance of his movement was breathtaking.
Wei Zhao's eyes narrowed in realization. "He's using martial arts," he murmured.
Asuka and Arjun both turned to him in confusion.
"Wei, what do you mean martial arts? That's just figure skating," Arjun pointed out, though even he wasn't convinced by his own words.
Wei shook his head, his gaze never leaving Akato. "Not just figure skating. Watch closely. He's relaxing his body to its utmost limit, allowing him to move with his opponents rather than against them. Instead of resisting force, he redirects it. When they try to grab him, their own momentum and air pressure push him away like a feather floating on the wind."
A stunned silence followed.
"Elric… is making himself weightless," Asuka murmured, fully understanding. "His balance is absolute."
Akato's movements became even more fluid as they watched, his body shifting effortlessly like flowing water. He maintained perfect balance and perfect relaxation yet never once faltered. It was a level of control that defied logic.
While Ino remained deep in thought, processing the implications, the others were left in sheer awe.
Benikiba, Reika, Anaya, Asuka, Arjun, Ichiro, and Hiroki couldn't tear their eyes away.
Even Lian Zhao, who had initially looked down on Reika as a late bloomer, was mesmerized by Akato's movements. His arms were crossed, but his sharp eyes tracked every step, every shift in weight, analyzing, memorizing.
Miruko, however, was the one who truly understood.
Her thoughts drifted back to Akato's words. Perfect balance. Absolute control. The fundamentals of figure skating weren't just about performance; it was a combat skill.
And now, seeing it in action, she realized just how much sense that made.
The match continued. The game had become more than just a challenge; it was now a spectacle.
As the match continued, the rink's employees took it upon themselves to select music that would accompany the event. The sudden sound burst startled the exhausted hockey players, causing some to falter mid-stride. Onizuka, however, was unfazed. His narrowed eyes fixated on Akato, and it didn't take him long to realize what was happening. This wasn't just a game of evasion anymore. Akato was turning it into a performance, a public display of figure skating mastery designed to humiliate them.
Onizuka gritted his teeth.
With the music fueling his rhythm, Akato transitioned effortlessly between techniques. He performed a two-foot slalom, weaving like a serpent across the ice, before smoothly shifting into forward crossovers. Each movement was controlled, his form impeccable. Then, as if adding insult to injury, he executed a back scratch spin with dazzling precision, spinning on the ice as though completely unaffected by the chaos surrounding him.
The hockey players continued their pursuit, their frustration mounting. Each attempt to grab Akato was met with failure. He blended magic tricks into his skating, using sleight of hand to create deceptive afterimages. At the same time, his mastery of Chinese martial arts allowed his body to absorb and redirect movement with minimal resistance. Every time they reached for him, he was gone, gliding effortlessly past their grasp.
Eight minutes passed. Two different songs had played, yet none had touched Akato.
Onizuka, breathless and seething, could feel his team slowing down. Their footwork was becoming sloppier, their chases less coordinated. But just as he was beginning to wonder how much longer this torture would last, a third song started playing over the speakers.
Something shifted in the air.
Akato's movements became sharper, more explosive. He accelerated at an unnatural rate, his skates slicing clean through the ice as his body became a blur of motion.
In the stands, Asuka's arms tensed. "He's getting too fast," he muttered, his brows furrowing in concern.
Arjun, standing beside him, nodded. "This isn't normal. He shouldn't be able to maintain this acceleration without losing control."
Wei, arms crossed, observed closely and let out a quiet breath. "He's surpassing the limits of standard figure skating," he said, watching Akato's movements intently. "Even the slightest miscalculation could send him flying at this speed."
Having reached their limit, the hockey players abandoned their individual efforts. Instead, they moved to encircle him, attempting to trap him from multiple angles in a pincer maneuver.
But Akato had anticipated it.
With a near-effortless display of agility, he slipped through their gaps at the last second, dodging each attempt with such fluidity that it seemed his body was weightless. Then, as if to add to their frustration, he launched into the air.
The crowd collectively held its breath as Akato performed an axel spin. He rotated mid-air, his form tucked in flawlessly.
Asuka's eyes widened, his entire body leaning forward instinctively. His lips moved silently as he counted the revolutions.
One… two… three… four…
His breath hitched.
Five.
Shock rippled through the rink. A quintuple axel. No one had ever successfully executed a five-rotation axel, yet Akato landed it with effortless grace.
The audience erupted into stunned murmurs, unable to process what they had just witnessed.
However, before the impact of Akato's achievement could fully sink in, something else entered the scene.
A massive figure loomed ahead, skating toward him with alarming speed.
The Glutton.
Clad in full hockey armor, the oversized enforcer bore down on Akato like an avalanche. Unlike the other players, he wasn't aiming to grab him. Instead, he swung his arm like a club, attempting to strike him with brute force.
He wasn't just trying to stop Akato.
He was trying to hurt him.
Akato, sensing the attack, remained calm. With a slight tilt of his body, he sidestepped the blow at the last second, avoiding the strike with a level of ease that made it seem as if he had predicted it from the very start. Without losing momentum, he immediately transitioned into a Flying Sit Spin.
The sudden display of speed and rotational power left Asuka and Arjun speechless.
"How is he generating that much speed?" Arjun muttered, watching in disbelief.
Miruko, Reika, Anaya, Ichiro, Hiroki, and Lian watched in pure admiration. Even Benikiba and Wei, who had kept a more critical eye on Akato's techniques, were now leaning forward in interest.
Then, without missing a beat, Akato shifted into a Broken Leg Sit Spin.
At first, the change seemed like an artistic choice, but the more experienced skaters noticed something else. Akato's blade was cutting into the ice.
Wei was the first to realize it. "He's carving into the surface," he muttered, his eyes darkening as he understood what was happening.
Arjun inhaled sharply. "He's setting a trap."
Akato's incredible rotational speed chipped away at the ice with every second that passed, disrupting its smooth surface and turning it into a jagged, unstable terrain. The mist from the shaved ice spread across the rink like an ethereal fog, concealing his true intentions from his pursuers.
The damage was already done when the hockey players rushed in for one final attempt.
"Everyone! Get him!" Onizuka roared.
The entire team converged on Akato, closing in from all directions, determined to take him down.
Just as they were about to reach him, Akato skipped outward, avoiding their grasp entirely.
Then, the moment they stepped onto the jagged ice…
Their balance failed them.
The surface, now completely uneven from Akato's rapid carving, caused the players to slip. One after another, they collapsed, crashing into each other in a chaotic pile of tangled limbs and fallen bodies.
Onizuka had been charging in full force and had no time to adjust. His skate caught an unstable patch, and his footing vanished beneath him. His body tumbled into the heap of fallen players, along with The Glutton, whose sheer weight sent a thunderous impact through the rink.
Before they could recover, the airhorn blared. The match was over. Akato had won.
Meanwhile, the defeated hockey players sprawled across the ice, a tangled heap of exhaustion and humiliation. Their bodies heaved as they struggled to catch their breath, their limbs too weak to push themselves up.
Standing at the center of it all, Akato straightened his posture. Then, with the grace and poise of a true performer, he lowered himself into a deep, respectful bow.
It was not a taunt. Not a display of arrogance. It was an acknowledgment, a statement.
He had proven his point. Figure skating, though vastly different in nature, was a discipline just as formidable as ice hockey.
As the applause roared around him, a sense of finality settled over the rink. The challenge was over, or so it seemed.
From within the pile of fallen players, something shifted.
At first, it was a barely noticeable movement, a twitch, a slight limb jerk. But then, something far more unsettling emerged from the depths of the heap. A pair of eyes gleamed red in the dim arena lights.
One of the players, still buried beneath the weight of his teammates, did not move. His body remained eerily still, yet his eyes burned with something inhuman.
A silent, menacing presence had awakened. And though the game had ended, something else, something far more dangerous, had just begun.