HunterxHunter: Reborn With Crazy Potential

I watch as Ponzu and Killua make their way to the ring and right as the announcer says "Begin!" killua opens his mouth and explains that he has absolutely no interest whatsoever in fighting Ponzu so he gives up.

"The fourth round is over Ponzu wins! Can Lucas and Bodoro come to the Arena!" the announcer states.

As we both walk up to the Arena Bordoro bows to me in a show of respect so I bow back in another show of gratitude for his gesture. "Let's have a fair fight no tricks," I say while a big smile comes across my face.

Normally Bodoro would not fight someone of my age but I'm guessing that he does not know how old I am. He's probably guessed that I'm around 18 from my muscular build and my height. In this world, normal 14-year-olds aren't 5' 11" or 180 centimeters.

When we hear the announcer yell "Begin" the fight starts. We stare each other down circling each other in our respective fighting stances. His stance is very interesting balancing his whole weight on only one leg with the other leg up in a position ready to strike out with a kick. He has one arm out in front of him and one arm behind him ready to strike with a punch. His arms keep him balanced and he is ready to strike at any moment but I'm going to wait for him to make the first move.

He throws the first punch a quick jab aimed at my face. It's fast, powerful, and comes with a snarl in his eyes. But I don't flinch. I don't even move much. I simply lean back, just enough to let the punch miss by inches, the wind from his fist brushing past my cheek. Bodoro's eyes narrow, and without missing a beat, he throws another punch, this time a left hook aimed at my side. I sidestep effortlessly, my feet light as air, and his fist sails harmlessly into empty space.

He doesn't stop. He's relentless in his style focusing on aggression more than artistic movements throwing jab after jab, hook after hook, all aimed with the precision of a fighter who knows what he's doing. But they're just patterns. I can see every one of his moves before they even happen. I've already calculated them. With every strike, I move a step to the side or slip under, just enough to avoid contact, never breaking a sweat. My body moves like it's part of the environment, a fluid extension of the space around me.

His frustration builds, but I remain calm and steady. I can see the shift in his focus. He's realizing that since his punches aren't landing he's just wasting energy. I see the sweat starting to bead on his forehead as his body starts to tire. The fight is already slipping out of his hands, but he's not done yet. His pride won't let him quit.

Bodoro starts to change tactics, his attacks are more varied now. He throws a series of quick jabs followed by a low kick aimed at my legs. It's more unpredictable, but still not enough to catch me off guard. I hop back lightly, just enough to avoid the kick, and then slide to the left to dodge his next punch. I feel the tension in the air, the frustration in his movements. I'm toying with him now, letting him think he has an opening, letting him believe there's a chance.

He growls under his breath, his eyes blazing with determination. The aggression in his attacks only grows, and his body starts to show strain as his energy dips. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts, and I can see him slowing down. But still, he pushes forward not wanting to give in.

I let him keep attacking. I can see the subtle signs of fatigue in his posture now, the way his movements are becoming just a little less sharp, a little less crisp. His attacks aren't coming as quickly as before. His punches are a bit more telegraphed, and his footwork is slightly off. He's slowing down.

I stay just out of reach. Every time he lunges at me, I sidestep, slip, or duck-like water flowing around a rock. He's so focused on hitting me that he doesn't see the pattern repeating. I'm in complete control here, and it's not even close. I could end it now, but I hold back. I want to see how long it will take for him to realize there's no winning this.

Bodoro tries to land a heavy right cross, probably hoping to break through my defense with sheer power. I lean just enough to the left, and his punch sails harmlessly past me, but this time I counter. Using the momentum and power of his punch I grab the back of his robe and throw him across the ring.

He flips and lands almost perfectly but still, he stumbles forward, off-balance. His frustration is palpable now. His whole body language screams that he's running on empty. There's no more finesse in his movements, just raw desperation. He tries again, faster this time, but I'm already stepping around him, my movements precise, and effortless. His wild swings miss again, and I feel the moment approaching.

I'm still not breaking a sweat, not even close. My body is relaxed, and controlled. This fight has been nothing more than a game for me. But I want to see how far he'll push himself before he finally admits what I already know that there's no way he can keep up.

Bodoro tries one last-ditch effort a vicious low kick, followed by an uppercut. I slide back a step, the low kick missing entirely. I feel the air shift around me as his uppercut whiffs past. And in that split second, I see the opening. It's there. His stance is wide, his balance shifting. I could strike. I could end this in a heartbeat.

But instead, I just let him stagger, exhausted, trying to regain his footing.

I can see it in his eyes now he's starting to realize. The weight of it is sinking in. His shoulders drop slightly, his gaze flickers away for a fraction of a second. It's the sign I've been waiting for. His body is spent, his mind is breaking under the strain, and now he knows it's over.

Bodoro's breath is ragged as he stands there, his chest heaving with each breath. His once proud posture is crumpled, his face pale. He's a fighter at the end of his rope. There's nothing left in him. He knows it. I knows it.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he raises his hands in surrender. His voice is low, defeated. "I surrender you win."

I take a slow, deliberate step back, watching him for a moment longer, waiting for him to collapse, to fall to his knees. But instead, he simply stands there, drained, his eyes locking with mine in reluctant acknowledgment of what just happened.

The announcer announces "The Fifth match is over Lucas wins! Can Killua and Gittarackur come to the Arena!"

Everybody is silent I can feel their eyes on me, but my focus is on Bodoro. I step back, a nod of acknowledgment to him for his effort, and then turn away. I can hear the faint sound of his ragged breathing behind me, but I don't turn to watch.