On Top of the Food Chain

Kazuki sat in the cold, dark cell, the only light coming from the hallway on the other side of the bars. The walls were damp, the air heavy with the scent of mold and decay. Every now and then, the faint sound of thumping music from the arena above would seep through the cracks, a constant reminder of the violence that awaited him. His breath came out in slow, controlled exhales as he stared at the concrete floor, trying to steady his mind.

He had little time to prepare, and the weight of that knowledge pressed down on him like the very walls of his cell. His next opponent, the Fat Bastard, was a formidable fighter. Kazuki knew he couldn't rely on luck this time—not if he wanted to survive.

Kazuki leaned back against the wall, the cold seeping into his bones. The memory of his first battle flickered in his mind. He had discovered the power of timing, how to harness his Aura at just the right moment to land a decisive blow. But that victory had been a mixture of skill and sheer chance, a fact that gnawed at him.

Then there was Harley. In that fight he had tried not to rely on his instincts, he had tried to evade the blows just like how he had practiced with Rika. His original plan had been to jump on the sledgehammer, to leap in and strike her down with his Aura claws, but she had surprised him, sending him flying in the air. 

In that split second, he had remembered the dagger he’d picked up earlier, and on a desperate whim, he’d thrown it. The blade had helped him out a great deal, and the fight had ended in his favor. But even that felt more like luck than strategy.

“Damn it,” he muttered, clenching his fists. “I can't just keep relying on luck. I need a real plan this time.”

He knew that the Fat Bastard was strong—overwhelmingly so—and with the ability to manipulate his body mass, his defenses would be tough to crack. Kazuki had to think of a way to exploit the sumo's weaknesses. He had already figured out that his opponent lacked speed. That could be his advantage. But speed alone wouldn’t be enough. Kazuki needed power, more power than ever before.

‘I’ve been too reckless,’ he admitted to himself. ‘If I had been even a second off in that last fight, I’d be dead by now. I can't let that happen again.’

The cell seemed to close in around him as the pressure mounted. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, could almost hear the crowd’s roar, already chanting for blood. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The clashing thoughts in his head made it difficult to focus. He tried to push them away, to concentrate on the task at hand. The plan had to be simple but effective. He couldn’t afford to overthink it.

“Stay light, stay quick,” he whispered to himself. “Force him to chase me. Wear him down.”

He knew that if he could keep his distance and strike at just the right moments, he might be able to chip away at the sumo’s defenses. But that would require discipline—something he hadn’t always been the best at.

“And if I do get in close…” Kazuki’s thoughts trailed off. ”

Kazuki closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing the anxiety out of his mind. He had to trust himself, trust that he could do this. 

Kazuki sat crossed legs and tried to manifest his Aura in a way he had never before. 

Soon, Kazuki found himself standing in his cell, staring at the cold, grimy floor. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His thoughts were a chaotic swirl, wrestling between the fear of the fight ahead and the thrill of his growing power.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed against the metal bars, snapping Kazuki from his thoughts. A cloaked guard stood there, his face obscured by the deep hood. "Your fight is in twenty minutes," the guard grunted, his voice carrying a mix of impatience and indifference.

As the guard turned to leave, his cloak caught on a small, rusted screw jutting out from the cell door. He cursed under his breath, jerking the fabric free. In that brief moment, Kazuki caught a glimpse beneath the cloak—a tracksuit, fresh yet familiar, eerily similar to the one Kazuki himself wore. It wasn’t an exact match, but the resemblance was unmistakable.

Kazuki's brow furrowed as he watched the guard walk away, irritation radiating from him. He shook his head, dismissing the odd coincidence, and let his mind drift back to his own thoughts, focusing on the battle to come.

***

Subaru sat on the edge of his hotel bed, the quiet hum of the city outside was a distant reminder of the world that continued to move, but his mind was elsewhere, locked in the battle that had yet to be fought. 

His fingers traced the edge of a silver locket that hung from his neck, his mind racing with visions of finally defeating Amano. The room was sparse, the only light coming from the neon signs outside the window, casting an eerie glow across his face.

Amano and Subaru were the pillars of the Anti-Ghoul Unit of the Japanese Syndicate, a regional branch of the Global Syndicate. The Syndicate's ideology was clear: keep the existence of the Awakened a secret, at any cost. The people at the top, all wanted to horde the power they held.

The Anti-Ghoul Unit’s mission wasn't about saving humans; it was about eliminating Ghouls, the greatest threat to that secret. Subaru and Amano were at the forefront of this battle, but for Subaru, it was personal.

Even though the Syndicate's first priority was to keep the Awakened society a secret, and the Ghouls posed a significant threat to that secrecy, there were exceptions. Some Ghouls, well-off and influential, were considered assets to the Syndicate. 

The Anti-Ghoul Unit was thus ordered to avoid targeting these particular Ghouls, which allowed operations like the Black Market to thrive. In these underground circles, Awakened and Ghouls collaborated in various heinous activities, shielded by their value to the Syndicate.

Shoda's fighting ring was one such asset. By kidnapping and forcing Ghouls to fight, they were, in a twisted sense, doing the Anti-Houl Unit's job—eliminating threats to the Syndicate's secrecy. However, Subaru wasn’t one to let such operations continue unchecked. The Syndicate’s other group, the Awakened Police, was technically responsible for dealing with these situations, but their lack of interest, created an opening for Subaru.

His reasons were more personal and driven by vengeance. His original target, the Hotdog Lover, was reportedly present at Shoda’s ring. Alongside this, there was that strong masked individual, and most importantly, his 'dear' subordinate had been kidnapped and taken there. These factors aligned perfectly, giving Subaru all the justification he needed to intervene, regardless of the Syndicate’s usual apathy.

The Syndicate's rules were mere formalities to him, guidelines he followed only when they aligned with his own vendetta. He didn't care about the collateral damage or the innocent lives lost along the way. 

For him, it was all about one thing: wiping out every Ghoul that existed. It was the only thing that kept him going, the fire that burned within him since that fateful day when he watched his mother die at the hands of one of those monsters.

The memory of her death was a constant, unyielding presence in his mind, replaying itself in an endless loop that both tortured and fueled him. He could still see the blood, hear her screams, feel the helplessness that had paralyzed him as a child. But now, he was no longer that helpless boy. 

Subaru shook his head, dispelling the haunting images that threatened to pull him under. His lips curved into a graceful smile as his thoughts returned to Amano, the Exterminator. Amano was a legend in the Syndicate, a hunter who shared Subaru's thirst for Ghoul blood. But Subaru wasn’t content with sharing the spotlight. He wanted to surpass Amano and become the one who would eradicate every last Ghoul.

Soon, very soon, he would have that chance. And when the time came, he would make sure that Amano, like every other Poacher, would fall before him.

There were three primary targets, and eliminating them would not only erase his 'mistake' but also elevate his standing. These targets were the Hotdog Lover, Blackthrone—the strongest Ghoul in Kyoto—and Tanuki, the most formidable Ghoul in Osaka. Additionally, it had been confirmed that several other high-value targets were present at that same location.

It wouldn’t be wrong to say that Subaru had hit the jackpot.

Suddenly, Subaru’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, interrupting his thoughts. He reached over, still lost in his fantasies of triumph over Amano, and unlocked the screen. As he read the message, the graceful contentment on his face twisted into a graceful annoyance, tinged with a seething rage.

The message was brief, but it cut through his thoughts like a knife:

“Sir, Amano has left for Kyoto.”

Subaru’s hand tightened around the phone, his knuckles whitening. The calm smile he’d worn moments before became a thin, taut line. He exhaled sharply, the breath hissing through his teeth as he fought to contain his fury.

“Goblinfucker,” Subaru muttered under his breath, the words dripping with venom.

It appeared that the 'raid' needed to be conducted somewhat sooner.

***

Four hooded figures stood at the entrance to the underground ring. As they approached the entrance, Junpei's eyes scanned the surroundings, his gaze narrowing as if trying to recall a distant memory.

The jumper, clad in dark clothing, appeared before them, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Without hesitation, Junpei and the others subtly manifested their Aura, the faint glow revealing their Ghoul nature. The jumper nodded and stepped aside, allowing them to pass.

The dim lighting and echo of distant roars filled the atmosphere with an unsettling energy.

As they descended deeper into the arena, Rika, walking beside her father, noticed the unusual expression on his face. "What is it, Dad?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

Junpei looked at his daughter and gave a reassuring smile. "It's nothing. I just think I’ve been to this place before."