"Well now, a freshman, are we?" A voice, surprisingly gentle for the mountain of a man it came from, cut through the sudden silence. The speaker, one of the seniors who'd been instructing, detached himself from his group and approached.
He had a kind, almost earnest face, the sort that would patiently encourage a struggling newcomer. Yet, beneath the affable exterior, he was built like a proverbial gorilla, his entire being radiating an almost fanatical passion for judo. His broad shoulders and calloused hands spoke of years spent on the mat.
The other members, equally imposing and athletic, gave off an unapproachable expression that says: they didn't readily accept weakness or a lack of ambition.
'This one, though,' Toji noted, 'he's a fine specimen. A real deal in terms of physical abilities. That fire in his eyes isn't just for show.'
"Hello, Senpai," Toji replied, his voice carefully pitched to sound mildly curious, perhaps a touch deferential. He let his gaze sweep across the room, a quick, almost dismissive scan of the other seniors who, after their initial assessment, were slowly returning to their routines, though he could feel their attention still lingering on him.
"Just exploring the club building," Toji said. "Figured I should start thinking about which one to join eventually."
"I see," the senior rumbled, his surprisingly keen eyes giving Toji a thorough once-over. He didn't miss the relaxed, almost indolent slump of Toji's shoulders, yet something in the younger student's grounded stance, the subtle balance, pinged his internal radar.
"You've trained before, haven't you?" It wasn't so much a question as a statement. "Despite trying to look like you'd rather be napping, there's a certain… something about you. An aura." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "Not many would spot it, but I've been at this a while." Though he couldn't pinpoint just how strong this freshman might be, his curiosity was definitely piqued.
'So, the big guy isn't just muscle. He picked up on that, huh? Interesting. This might not be a total waste of time after all.' Toji offered no verbal confirmation, merely letting a playful smile spread across his lips. It was an answer in itself.
"So, I won't beat around the bush. Tell me, why the Judo club, specifically?"
"Hmm…" Toji hummed, a languid sound that barely reached the senior's ears. He tilted his head, a gesture that looked less like genuine contemplation and more like a practiced affectation of thought. His expression remained perpetually bored, eyes half-lidded, until they unexpectedly snapped open, locking onto the senior's with a sudden, cool intensity that felt strangely heavy.
'Alright, let's get this over with,' Toji thought, the brief spark of interest fading as quickly as it appeared. He broke the silent, unnerving stare, taking a small step back. Hands sliding effortlessly into his pockets, he offered a lazy, elegant bow that felt both overly formal and utterly dismissive.
This unexpected display drew the attention of some senior girls nearby; a few exchanged surprised glances, whispers of, 'Adorable,' floating across the mat.
"My name is Fushiguro Toji," he stated, his voice a low, even drawl. "As for why I'm here… the reason is quite simple. I like to gamble." A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips. "During my 'work' over the past year, I picked up a few… pointers. I was just wondering if they've gone stale."
"Sharp one, aren't you?" The 'Gorilla-senior' bypassed the peculiar introduction entirely. The mention of "gambling" and "tricks" clearly snagged his attention. His friendly demeanor hardened, his expression growing more serious, more appraising.
The air around him seemed to turn tense. It might be that the junior before him seems simply foolish, yet the air around him was different. His Gorilla-like instinct told him that.
'Gambling? Tricks? And 'work'? Not the usual drivel about 'self-improvement' or 'discipline',' the senior mused, his initial curiosity now layered with a mix of caution and intrigue.
"So, you already understand the value of points, huh?" The senior's voice had lost its initial warmth, becoming edged with a grudging respect. "That's… surprising. Shocking, even, for a first-year. Tell me, which class are you in?"
"Class B." Toji replied, his tone flat, as if commenting on the temperature. There was no hint of pride or apprehension, just a simple statement of fact delivered with detached confidence.
The Gorilla-senpai's brow furrowed for a fleeting instant before smoothing out. He nodded slowly. 'Class B… explains the confidence, maybe. But points and gambling… in a judo club? He's either incredibly arrogant or he sees something I don't.'
"You want a match, then?" A flicker of amusement, sharp and challenging, returned to the senior's eyes. "Against me, or perhaps one of the others?" He didn't seem displeased by the prospect; if anything, a sense of relief seemed to wash over him, as if finding a worthy opponent was a rare pleasure.
'At least there seems to be someone who's not just going through the motions in this year's batch,' he thought, a genuine smile touching his lips. "And how much are you betting?"
"50,000 Points." Toji's mouth curved into a wider, yet still lazy, smile. He paused, letting the number hang in the air, before a slow, deliberate drawl left his lips.
"No, never mind. Let's make it… 100,000." He gestured vaguely. "As for who, it's up to you to decide. The match can be ended in the first fight, or…" Toji trailed off, his posture radiating such utter, casual confidence that it felt almost absurd.
A ripple of sharp murmurs went through the onlookers, many of whom had been only half-paying attention until now. Brows furrowed, mouths tightened, and open sneers appeared on some faces.
"A hundred thousand?" a male senior scoffed, loud enough for a few people to hear. He eyed Toji's lean build skeptically. "Look at him. Where does he get off?"
"Cocky brat," another muttered, though a mercenary glint appeared in his eyes. 100k points? Easier than training. Free points were always a welcome prospect.
Conversely, a cluster of senior girls exchanged excited glances. "Did you hear that? 100,000!" one whispered, a blush touching her cheeks.
"He's kinda… bold, isn't he?" another giggled softly. "Even if he loses, that kind of confidence is… adorable." Encouraging murmurs, softer but still noticeable, began to rise from their direction.
"Hoh," the Gorilla-senpai rumbled, the sound low in his chest. A frown did indeed cross his face for a brief second, a flicker of doubt warring with something else, before it was replaced by a broad, genuinely amused grin.
'100k… kid's got brass balls, I'll give him that. Or he's the biggest idiot I've seen all year,' the senior thought, his amusement slightly tinged with professional skepticism. '100,000 points just like that? What does he know? Or is this purely a bluff?'
"Amusing," he said aloud, his voice deeper now, carrying across the mat.
"Well, It's your choice, after all. If you truly think you can back up that… talk," he emphasized the word, his grin widening, "then I won't deny your request." He looked undeniably pleased, anticipation shining in his eyes.
"Souma, you can go first." He gestured towards a sturdy-looking student who had been diligently practicing Ukemi, his movements solid and practiced.
"Yes, Senpai!" Souma, a young man with the broad shoulders of someone who spent serious time lifting but not the sheer mass of the senior, gave a sharp, respectful bow to the Gorilla-senpai before turning. He walked to the center of the tatami mat, his expression hardening into one of focused determination as he waited for Toji.
"As for Fushiguro-kun," the senior continued, addressing Toji, "You should change too. There are some extra uniforms in the changing room. They're new, for freshmen, so you needn't worry about anyone else's sweat." He pointed towards a room off to the side.
Toji offered a slight, almost lazy nod and ambled towards the changing room. A few minutes later, he reappeared, now clad in a crisp, bright white gi.
He rolled his shoulders, flexing his hands a few times, testing the unfamiliar fabric. His earlier air of languid boredom hadn't vanished completely, but it was now underscored by a quiet, coiled intensity that seemed to hum just beneath the surface.
'Been a while since I wore one of these,' he thought, the material feeling surprisingly familiar.
'Feels… right. Let's see if these 'pointers' still have their bite. A hundred thousand points… this isn't worth the effort unless I win big.' His eyes, now sharp and clear, met Souma's across the mat, a sly glint settling in their depths.
"Today's party is on me," Souma declared with a wide, confident grin that bordered on a sneer. He appraised Toji's frame – lean, without the obvious bulk Souma himself possessed. He clearly saw an easy victory.
Souma was tall but not huge like the senior, built like a rugby player rather than a sumo wrestler.
He looked every bit the part of someone who trained hard, proud of his strength, and perhaps a little quick-tempered when challenged. His words dripped with the easy confidence of someone who believed Toji's slighter build meant weakness, an assumption born from years of equating muscle with power.
Both stood opposite each other, settling into ready stances, while the Gorilla-senpai positioned himself between them, taking on the mantle of the judge.
The onlookers, their feigned disinterest entirely forgotten, leaned forward, anticipation etched on their faces.
A chorus of voices erupted from the edges of the mat.
"Get him, Souma!"
"Show that freshman how it's done!"
"Easy points, Souma!" The male seniors were vocal, confident in their peer.
Simultaneously, from the other side, lighter voices chimed in, though perhaps a little less certain of the outcome.
"Good luck, Fushiguro-kun!"
"You can do it!"
"We're cheering for you, Fushiguro-kun!" The female seniors offered their encouragement, a mix of genuine hope and fascination with the audacious newcomer.
"The Gorilla-senpai waited for the initial wave of noise to subside slightly, a small smile playing on his lips, enjoying the sudden energy in the room. He then raised a hand, a silent command for attention.
"Alright, alright!" he boomed, his voice cutting through the remaining murmurs.
"Now that we've got everyone's blood up, let's make sure we're all on the same page." He gestured between the two contestants. "I'll give you a brief rundown of the rules, just in case you've somehow forgotten."
He launched into the explanation, his tone shifting from boisterous to serious as he laid out the parameters of the match:
"Punching, kicking, and other strikes? Not allowed. Touching the opponent's face? Prohibited. Attacking joints other than the elbow? Also not allowed. Head dives? Definitely not permitted."
He continued, detailing safety protocols:
"Wearing any hard or metallic object during competition is prohibited. This includes jewelry, hard plastic protective gear, and hair ties with metal parts. Intentionally harming an opponent is forbidden. If a player is severely bleeding, the match must be stopped immediately."
"If a contestant becomes unconscious without a legal choking technique and cannot be immediately roused, they automatically forfeit the match. Medical personnel will take immediate action in such a case."
His gaze sharpened slightly as he added a crucial caveat regarding the wager.
"If you intentionally resort to any such prohibited action with malicious intent to incapacitate or seriously injure, the bet will be cancelled instantly."
He then moved on to the rules of engagement and winning:
"Avoiding combat or passivity? Not permitted. Maintaining an excessively defensive posture for a prolonged period—generally more than five seconds—is not allowed. Making actions that appear to be attacks without genuine intent? Also prohibited. Stay engaged."
"For winning: One Full Point," he announced. "Awarded for a clean throw that places the opponent squarely on their back. That's a simple win for the thrower. Alternatively, pinning the opponent on their back for twenty seconds ends the round, or forcing the opponent to submit by applying a legal choke or joint lock."
"The match will continue for three rounds," he stated clearly. "The victory goes to the first contestant to achieve two wins out of three rounds."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"And… if the match ends after all three rounds with no score or equal scores, it goes into 'Golden Score' overtime. The first judoka to achieve any score, including gaining points from penalties against the opponent, wins immediately."
"Do you understand?" Gorilla-senpai asked, looking at both Souma and Toji. Receiving a crisp nod from Souma and a slow, indifferent one from Toji, he let out a low, satisfied chuckle, still positioned squarely between the two ready competitors.
Before the match begins, the two competitors stand facing each other in the center of the contest area. Souma positioned himself behind the blue line, Toji the white, about three or four meters of tatami separating them.
Souma puffed out his chest slightly, a look of supreme confidence etched on his face. He eyed Toji's seemingly unimposing figure up and down, a patronizing smirk playing on his lips.
"Alright, 'kohai-kun'," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "Since it's your first time, I'll give you the chance. Go first." He spread his arms slightly, a clear invitation, outwardly generous but inwardly laced with utter certainty that whatever Toji tried, he could easily counter.
"Thank you," Toji replied, his voice devoid of any emotion, giving just a small, almost imperceptible nod that seemed to acknowledge the senior's offer more as a 'freebie' he didn't particularly need, than a genuine act of kindness.
They performed the traditional standing bow towards each other. Souma's bow was crisp, respectful, a sign of a disciplined judoka.
Toji's, however, was barely a dip of his head, a perfunctory gesture that showed precisely zero ounces of conventional respect gaining unpleasant glare from other club members.
After the bow, Souma took a confident step forward with his left foot, settling into a solid, natural fighting posture, his weight balanced, his eyes fixed on Toji, ready for any move.
Toji simply… stood there for a moment longer, his stance almost unnervingly relaxed, his eyes still half-lidded.
"Hajime!" the Gorilla-senpai's voice boomed, signaling the start of the match.
"Swooosh."
It was a sound that barely registered – a sudden whisper of air displaced. The senior standing opposite Toji barely had time to register movement before he blinked, and Toji, who had been meters away, was suddenly alarmingly close, almost arm's length.
He blinked again, trying to process the impossible closing of distance. And then…
THUD.
It was the sickeningly final sound of a body hitting the mat with force. The senior wasn't standing over Toji.
He was lying flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him, staring up at the dojo ceiling, while Toji stood effortlessly above him, looking down with that same detached, bored expression.
Stare~~~
Suddenly, all eyes previously focused on chatting, or feigning nonchalance were locked onto the center mat.
The casual atmosphere shattered. Jaws hung open. Expressions ranged from utter bewilderment to outright shock.
"Wha… What just happened?" A senior near the edge of the mat muttered the question that echoed in everyone's stunned mind.
The Gorilla-senpai himself was frozen mid-movement, his eyes wide, staring at the scene before him, momentarily speechless.
Souma groaned, pushing himself up onto his elbows, his confident grin utterly wiped away, replaced by confusion and disbelief.
He looked at Toji, then back at where he was lying, then back at Toji, his mind scrambling to comprehend the impossible speed and efficiency of the throw.
It wasn't just fast; it felt like he had been plucked from his stance and placed on the mat before he could even twitch.
"Hantei!" the Gorilla-senpai finally managed, his voice a little rougher than before, snapping out of his daze. "Ippon! The winner is Fushiguro Toji!"
The pronouncement seemed to break the spell of silence.
"Ippon? Already? No way!"
"Did you even see him move?"
"What the hell was that?!" The male seniors who had been cheering for Souma now looked utterly dumbfounded, their bets flashing before their eyes.
Souma scrambled awkwardly to his feet, glaring at Toji, his disbelief morphing into anger.
"That's impossible! What did you do? Did you cheat?!" he demanded, unable to reconcile the outcome with his own perceived strength and the speed of the defeat. "Nobody moves like that!"
Toji just looked at him, his expression unchanged, a hint of something that might have been amusement flickering in his eyes before it was gone.
He offered no explanation, no boast, just the quiet, undeniable reality of Souma lying flat on his back moments ago.
The girls who had offered hesitant encouragement now gasped, some covering their mouths, others looking utterly captivated by the display of effortless, overwhelming power from the seemingly lazy freshman.
Toji hadn't just won; he had utterly dismantled his opponent in a blink.
***
A/N: Sorry for the delay, I was busy with family stuff, nothing serious. It was a function but I was so busy I didn't get the chance to write. And by the time I got the chance to write, I was already very tired and not in good shape.
I wanted to give more visual representation of the shock and impact of Toji, but there's already 3 years in the novel.
The chapter has already reached 4.3k words [without A/N] with only all this talk and useless stuff. So I had to devide it into two parts with 1.5k words and other remaining 2.8k into second part.
I know it's useless but it gives the fanfictions a liveliness that you aren't reading a summary of the story.
As for glazing of Toji, it's barely anything. I'll do more in future.
I'll slowly improve the quality and writing with more character development trying to follow the same yet different path from light novels.
Also, I realised how much I have hate inside me for the Pushover MC.
Anyways, for my hard work, give me hundreds of thousands of power stones. Also remember, Glazing never stops.