Vol 1 Chapter 3: Kosutake vs. Aida Makoto – A Battle with a 25 cm Height Difference (Prologue: Encounters Arrive with a Sense of Déjà Vu)

I knew a little about Aida from the martial arts news. There was some buzz about him, and I had managed to gather some information.

From what I recall, he’s 185 cm tall and was set to debut in the super lightweight division (61.235 – 63.503 kg).

With that kind of height, he could probably compete in middleweight (69.853 – 72.575 kg), but it seems he’s been on the lean side since his baseball days. His usual weight is around 67 kg, making super lightweight his optimal weight class.

On the other hand, I’m 160 cm. With my recent increase in training, it’s been tough maintaining my weight in the amateur kickboxing bantamweight class (51-54 kg). These days, flyweight (51 kg and below) is my proper weight class.

That means a 10-15 kg weight difference and a 25 cm height gap.

I had no clue about Aida’s actual skill level, but physically, this was beyond unfair.

“Heh! Lending me a hand, huh? Trying to show off in front of a girl? Don’t come crying when you get your ass kicked!”

Aida tucked his chin, relaxed his shoulders, and kept his elbows close—but not too tight. His fists were lightly clenched near his cheeks, stomach slightly drawn in. He stepped forward with his left foot, facing me head-on—the upright stance, a fundamental posture in kickboxing.

“Why don’t you test whether I’m just showing off or not?”

“Hah! Bring it on!”

Aida stepped forward, closing the distance. He threw out a light right front kick, likely just a probe. I backstepped to avoid it.

As expected, just a range-checking kick—but damn, that covered way more distance than I expected.

No pause. He raised his right knee, keeping his guard up, then extended his leg into a strong front kick.

Even longer reach than before.

But honestly? His super lightweight kicks felt slow.

I stepped diagonally forward, dodging the kick while throwing an overhand right. But Aida smoothly swayed back, making my punch hit nothing but air.

Tch!

This height difference is straight-up cheating.

I’d fought a 177 cm foreign fighter who was 3 kg over featherweight, but 25 cm difference? This was a first.

Fine. If I can’t reach his face, I’ll just break him down from below.

The moment I moved in, Aida suddenly switched his stance, raising his arms and using the momentum to launch his left knee forward.

With this height gap, even a slight forward lean on my part would put my face right in his knee’s path.

But I had already expected this. Knees from a tall fighter? Yeah, no surprise there.

Guarding my chin with my right hand, I swayed back to avoid it, then used my returning motion’s momentum to slam a right straight into his body.

“Ugh!”

A textbook counter—rockaway. First clean hit landed.

Stopping now would be stupid.

I immediately reset my stance, twisted my left foot, pivoted outward, and hammered a right inside low kick into his support leg just as he tried to throw another left knee.

A loud smack echoed through the air.

“You bastard!”

Now pissed, Aida kept trying to throw knees. I kept stepping back, timing inside low kicks, disrupting his balance.

The standard way to deal with a taller fighter? Close the distance, break them down from below.

But I deliberately stayed back.

Luring him in.

Chipping away at his leg.

Making him impatient.

As expected, after throwing inside low kicks three, four times without landing any hits on me, Aida’s frustration began to show on his face.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves, you little shorty!”

Aida forced the distance closed and unleashed a downward right straight.

A former baseball player—and a pitcher at that—Aida’s right straight had undeniably formidable speed and power.

But no matter how strong a punch is, if it doesn’t land, it can’t knock the opponent down.

I stepped slightly diagonally forward, and as Aida’s fist sliced through the air with a whooshing sound that vibrated my eardrums, I pivoted on my left foot, twisted my body, and bent my right knee to lift it, driving an impactful right middle kick in as if thrusting my knee in.

“Guh!”

By taking a small side step and bending my right knee, I could quickly deliver a middle kick even at close range—ideal for a counter.

“Ugh…”

Did that really hit him hard?

Aida’s face went pale; he was clearly weakened.

Just as I had once been, several months of training still hadn’t allowed him to fully develop his body.

Even if he had extraordinary striking talent, you can’t build up your body in a short time.

Moreover, with our height difference, my attacks from below were easier to land.

I decided to follow up, intent on breaking him, by hammering both left and right hooks into his ribs!

While throwing body hooks carries the risk of lowering your stance, striking the ribs follows nearly the same trajectory as a regular hook.

Rib strikes are techniques mainly used in full-contact karate rather than boxing, but in amateur kickboxing where rounds are short, dealing quick, painful damage is more effective than slowly wearing someone down with body blows—and even more so in a street fight.

“Don’t you dare give me any slack, punk! Gah!”

While he tried to act tough with his words—even as his guard and upper body dropped—I drove a left uppercut into his chin, snapping his face upward.

Then, I landed an inside low kick on his still-standing right pivot leg. Losing his balance, Aida let both his hands hit the ground.

“Heh… I’m surprised! You’re so cute, you little shorty! Onee-san is impressed!”

Probably Rurei, who appears to be younger, had given me praise that barely cut through my excitement.

“No… The match isn’t over yet, so don’t come over here…”

“Y-yeah… the fight is far from over…”

As expected, Aida got back on his feet.

Though his technique was still inexperienced, he clearly had much more endurance than a complete novice.

“Just so I know, you’re scheduled for a debut fight, right? Maybe you should stop before you break yourself even more.”

“Shut up! Even one hit from me and you’ll be knocked down for good!”

Aida, undeterred, tried to throw another left knee, but when he saw me feint with a right low kick, his movement froze.

Until now, whenever he attempted a left knee strike, I’d countered with a right inside low kick on his pivot leg. Fearful of the counter, Aida instinctively ceased his left knee attacks.

In other words, I had effectively nullified one of his weapons.

Once his left knee was sealed, the only attack left to be wary of was his right straight—making it no big deal to dive into his guard.

Next, I struck his left thigh with a right low kick to divert his attention to his leg. Then, using the momentum from pulling back my right foot, I kicked off the ground and stepped in with my left, slipping under Aida’s guard. Imagining my left body straight piercing from his stomach to his back, I drove it home.

“Ugh!”

The follow-through of the punch landed squarely in his solar plexus. It was astonishingly as if the punch passed right through him without any feedback in my fist.

Even though it wasn’t my dominant hand, a clean left body straight can be surprisingly effective.

Aida fell onto his rear, once again bracing himself on the ground with his hands.