A shadow hangs over Tokyo Dome—and Hanma Baki is falling into it.
After a deliberate loss drops him from Fighter to Apprentice in the underground arena known only as Shadow Line, seventeen-year-old Baki wanders the empty parking garage beneath the dome, haunted by the memory of his mother's death at his father's hands. The pendant against his chest is cold. The truth of that night is colder.
Then a woman in black steps out of the darkness.
She knows about his mother. She knows how she died—an
BAKI IF: Devour the Mother's Love - Furyu Cave — The Hundred-Year-Old Master and the First Strike
A chill draft flowed out from beyond the stone door.
It had been hours since they'd left the crowds of Shinjuku behind. The heat and clamor of the surface felt like something from a distant past down here. The stairs descending underground went on and on, and with every step, the sound of his soles scraping against stone echoed far too loudly.
(Fifty meters underground... Do people really live in a place like this?)
Hanma Baki muttered it inwardly, his eyes fixed on the back of Shuzawa Emi as she walked ahead of him.
The hem of her black coat swayed slowly in the damp air. She didn't look back. As if there were no need to, she descended the stairs without a moment's hesitation. Now and then, an old lamp mounted on the wall would light up her long black hair, then fade.
"...How much farther?"
"Almost there. No need to rush—the master isn't going to run away."
Her voice echoed. That peculiar underground sensation, as if sound were raining down from above.
Baki clenched his fist in silence.
He had taken this woman's hand to learn the truth behind his mother's death. That night, in the underground parking garage of the Tokyo Dome, he had taken the hand she offered.
*I'll teach you how to truly defeat Yujiro.*
He had clung to those words.
He had no regrets now.
But what awaited him ahead—honestly, he couldn't begin to imagine.
—*Gah-ton.*
A heavy sound, and the stairs ended.
Before him stood a massive stone door. Over three meters tall. Something was carved into its surface, but it was too dim to make out. When Emi touched the door, it swung inward without a sound.
"This is the Fuyuu Cave."
Her voice sounded strangely distant.
Beyond the door stretched a stone chamber far larger than he had imagined.
The ceiling was high, and countless candlesticks lined the walls, their flames flickering softly. The air was cold, yet somehow clear. It was hard to believe they were this deep underground—breathing came easy.
(So this is...)
Baki stepped inside.
The instant he did, his feet stopped.
His body stopped on its own.
Someone stood at the far end of the hall.
A small old man.
His long white hair was tied back, and he leaned on a single staff. He couldn't have been more than four-foot-eleven. His back was slightly bent, and his thin body looked as though it might snap at any moment.
And yet, his presence overwhelmed the entire chamber.
As if the space itself were a part of him.
"...Hoh."
The old man spoke quietly.
His voice was lower than expected, and it carried well.
"So you're Hanma Baki. Just as Shuzawa told me—you've got good eyes."
"...You're Kaku Kaioh?"
"That I am. I am Kaku Kaioh, master of the Fuyuu Cave, and the man who will become your new teacher."
The old man approached Baki slowly. Despite leaning on a staff, his footsteps were nearly silent.
When he reached Baki, he stared intently at Baki's hands.
"...Hmm. With those fists, you'll never reach that man."
The old man smiled quietly.
At those words, blood rushed to Baki's head.
"...What did you say?"
"Did you not hear me? With those fists of yours, you will never—ever—reach Hanma Yujiro. A hundred years, a thousand years of training would be wasted. Because your fists have not yet learned to take a life. You think you can defeat that man with fists that have only learned to win inside the rules of an arena?"
The old man's words were gentle. But each one drove deep into Baki's chest.
"...I've never lost to anyone in the underground arena."
"I know. The undefeated champion. A genius at seventeen. But that is only within the rules—only because you were kept alive by them. That man will never fight you in such a place. When you face him, there will be no rules, no referee, no medics. There will be only two lives."
The old man set his staff on the floor.
"What you need is a fist for killing. Pure martial skill to take your opponent's life without fail. I will teach it to you. But—are you prepared? Once you walk this path, you can never return to the world you knew."
Baki met the old man's eyes head-on.
Black eyes. Deep, deep, bottomless eyes.
This old man was the real thing.
The legendary warrior who had fought his father to a standstill.
His words were no lie.
"...I am."
Baki spoke quietly.
"To learn the truth about my mother's death, and to defeat that man—I'll walk this path. I'm ready."
The old man gazed at Baki's eyes.
Then, softly, he smiled.
"So young. But I've certainly received your resolve. Knowing everything—about your mother, about that man—I will teach you the martial way. But my training is hell. Prepare yourself."
"Bring it on."
Baki nodded firmly.
In that moment, something like hope quietly kindled in his chest for the first time.
A new teacher. A new martial art. A new world.
With this, he could get one step closer to that man.
One step closer to the truth of his mother's death.
Baki's fists clenched on their own.
---
Behind him, Shuzawa Emi smiled quietly.
A defiant smile on that cold, beautiful face.
Baki did not see it.
That she was guiding him toward a purpose of her own.
The truth of it would be a long, long time before Baki noticed.
"So when do we start—this training?"
When Baki turned and asked, Kaioh picked up a wooden stick leaning against the wall, grinning all the while.
"Right now. Why would I wait?"
"Right now—are you sure your body can handle it?"
The words slipped out before he could stop them. An old man well past a hundred was about to train him. Legendary warrior or not, wasn't that a bit much?
But that worry was blown to pieces the very next moment.
"—There."
Kaioh flicked a single finger lightly.
That was all.
And yet—
*DOOON!!!*
A blast like a gust of wind struck Baki's chest, and his body flew backward. His back slammed into the stone wall, driving every bit of air from his lungs.
"Gah—!?"
For an instant, he couldn't understand what had happened.
His body slid down the wall and crumpled to the floor. Pain shot through his back. He couldn't breathe.
(One finger... with one finger, I...)
"How's that? My body's still got plenty of life in it, eh?"
Kaioh cackled as he picked up his staff.
"...What did you just do?"
Baki looked up at the old man, struggling to catch his breath.
"*Ki.* I simply released my ki from my fingertip. If you've dabbled in martial arts, you've at least heard the word."
"Ki... that was..."
"Aye. And that is merely the entrance to what you'll be learning."
Baki was speechless.
One finger, and a man goes flying.
That was the entrance.
Then what on earth happened when this old man got serious?
"Shuzawa."
Kaioh turned toward Emi.
"Is this one truly the son of Hanma Yujiro?"
"Yes, without a doubt. I confirmed it with my own eyes."
"I see. Then blood will tell. If he's that man's son, he won't fold over something like this."
Kaioh turned back to Baki.
"Can you stand?"
"...Of course."
Baki braced himself against the wall and rose slowly.
His whole body ached. But more than that, his heart was pounding fiercely.
(This is real. If I follow this man, I'll...)
"What are you thinking right now?"
At Kaioh's question, Baki answered honestly.
"...I thought I could get stronger. That if you taught me, I might reach that man."
"Hoh. Honest. A good attitude. But don't misunderstand. I'm not teaching you to make you strong. I'm only helping you become strong yourself. The learning, the changing—that's all on you."
"...I know."
"Then let's begin. First, we teach your body what *ki* is."
Kaioh walked to the center of the hall.
Several wooden training devices stood there.
A rotating wooden dummy. Hanging sandbags. Countless wooden stakes driven into the ground.
All of them worn smooth and dark with years of use.
"This is the equipment I've used since I was young to forge my ki. First, try striking this dummy with your bare hands."
Baki stood before the dummy.
It was a little shorter than him. Several arms jutted out, and when touched, it rotated with a *gigi-gi* creak.
(Strike this bare-handed...)
He took his stance and threw a straight punch.
*Gan!*
The dummy spun hard.
"...Is that it?"
"Mm. You've got power. But your ki isn't in it. With a fist like that, you might break a wooden dummy, but you won't tear that man's skin."
"How exactly do I put ki into it...?"
"Simple. Strike as if you mean to kill. That's all."
"...As if I mean to kill."
Baki stared at the dummy.
As if to kill.
He'd never even considered such a thing.
In the underground arena, he defeated opponents, but he never killed them. The rules forbade it. And there was never any need.
But this old man was telling him to do it.
"You hesitate?"
"...No."
Baki reset his grip.
His mother's face surfaced in his mind.
His mother's face, stained with blood.
That man's fist.
"—Hah!!"
*Dogooh!!!*
The sound was clearly different from before.
The dummy spun violently, and the creak of its axle groaned.
"...How was that?"
Baki turned back to Kaioh, shoulders heaving.
"Mm. That strike carried just a sliver of killing intent. Not bad for a first try. But it's not nearly enough. With killing intent that weak, you'll die before you ever reach that man."
"...I know."
"Then keep at it. Today you'll do this until sundown. No breaks until you drop."
"Fine by me."
Baki faced the dummy again.
He clenched his fists.
He pictured his mother's face.
He pictured his father's face.
As if to kill.
"—Hah!!"
*Dogooh!*
"Not enough!"
*Dogooh! Dogooh! Dogooh!*
The dummy kept spinning as if screaming.
The skin on Baki's fists split, and blood began to seep through.
Still, he didn't stop.
(With this, I'll get stronger. With this, I'll reach that man—)
That was when it happened.
*Pashi.*
A small stone struck Baki's knee.
"Guh—!?"
His stance broke, and Baki dropped to one knee.
"...What are you doing?"
When Baki glared, Kaioh was grinning, rolling a pebble in his palm.
"'What are you doing'—nothing. You're distracted. You're not focused solely on striking the dummy. That's why you leave openings like this. In real combat, that one hit would have finished your leg."
"...That's a cheap shot."
"Cheap shot? Did that man ever tell you to fight fair and square? Your enemy is always hunting for your openings. If you can't even notice that, there's no point talking."
Baki had no comeback.
He was right.
In the underground arena, there was a starting signal, a referee, rules.
But against that man, none of that existed.
"...I'll go again."
Baki stood and faced the dummy.
"That's the spirit. Always keep your awareness wide. Don't just look at the dummy. Feel my movements, the flow of the air, the vibration of the floor—everything."
Baki took a deep breath and set his stance.
He widened his field of awareness.
The dummy. Kaioh. The candlesticks on the walls. The flow of air.
Feel it all at once.
"—Hah!!"
*Dogooh!*
*Pashi.*
Another stone flew.
This time at his shoulder.
Baki twisted his body and dodged it.
"...You dodged."
Kaioh's voice held a note of surprise.
"Hoh. As expected of that man's son. You learn fast. But you're not there yet."
*Pashi. Pashi. Pashi.*
This time, three stones flew at once.
"Damn!"
Baki dropped low and evaded two.
But the third hit his thigh.
"Guh...!"
The pain froze him for an instant.
In that gap, another stone flew.
*Pashi.*
"—Hah!"
This time his wrist was hit.
His fist opened slightly.
"See, another opening. In real combat, that would have put your arm out of commission."
"...Damn it."
Baki gritted his teeth.
Frustrating.
But more than that—it was fun.
It had been a long time since he'd pushed himself this hard.
In the underground arena, he was always holding back somewhere.
He had the power to defeat opponents, but not the power to kill.
But now it was different.
This old man was coming at him for real.
Throwing stones as if to kill.
That killing intent felt good.
(So
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