Bastards! What are you, ladies?
Getting ready for a party or something?
Stop dilly-dallying!
Do you want to be kicked, you slugs?
All rooms report!
Room one, present!
Room two, present!
Room three, present!
Present!
It's like the military.
Needless to say, you're all human scum!
You've no right to talk. Chatting is strictly prohibited!
Violation is a serious crime.
We'll shoot to kill without warning.
Curse yourselves for being born stupid!
It…
was an unusual sight, unfit for prison.
You have no freedom.
That's your life!
There's only one way to survive!
Get used to the discomfort!
Understood?
Yes, sir!
No way!
Why is he smoking like it's normal?
What's for breakfast?
Pork and beans.
I said no personal talk!
Oh, man.
I'm not very fond of pork.
Move to the dining hall!
The way the guards behaved as if Mr. Second didn't exist
only made it stranger.
He was the only one with an omelette.
There were a thousand prisoners there
but no one complained about it.
And…
Hey.
Did you change your gun?
You had a revolver before.
You switched to an automatic, huh?
We can't have a fly in the dining hall.
Let it go outside.
And the decisive blow that day
was given by the man sitting across from Second.
Look toward Second.
The man sitting across from Second plans on challenging him.
He's big.
He has a background in your country's sumo wrestling.
He switched to mixed martial arts and in just a few matches,
he climbed to the champion spot.
He displayed that excessive power in the streets.
His crime was injury resulting in death.
He's never lost in a fight in Japan nor in the States.
That's the case for most of the ones in prison, though.
Mr. Second,
I hear that's what you're called.
If you're called, "Second,"
maybe I should call myself "First."
This is hard to use.
The reaction around him is muted.
Everyone knows what's going to happen.
This…
See?
See how pliable it is?
It's jiggly.
Hey.
See?
It's about to begin.
Freeze!
You'll have to use strength and not magic tricks to get by, Mr. Second.
What will you gain by defeating me?
Some freedom within this confinement at least.
Mealtime is the one thing those here look forward to.
You've taken that away.
That's a serious crime.
I'm going to take your freedom away.
I can't bear to watch.
Good idea.
If you give me a gun, you'll have an excuse when you lose.
Hold it tight.
Aim to kill.
Go ahead.
Damn bastard.
Do you think I won't shoot?
Poor man.
Other than pulling the trigger, he has no freedom.
It's just what Second wants.
It's a good day to die.
Is that Kenpo?
No.
Second follows no style of fighting.
What did you use?
What did I use?
Sumo?
You bastard.
You think you beat me with Sumo?
Of course that wasn't Sumo earlier.
I kicked you, after all.
But…
I can fight you in Sumo if you wish.
Guard, I'd like to get some after-meal exercise with him.
We're going to use the gym.
We have official approval.
Shall we go?
There's even a perfect circle.
What an anxious group.
Don't worry about them, they're just bystanders.
Arizona Grand Sumo Tournament, dosukoi!
Does this mean we've started?
"Hakkeyoi," was that the term?
All right.
I can't lift him?
There's no way you can move me.
Not when you're just standing on the ground.
I'm tipping over.
I'm about to fall.
I have to stay standing.
Game over.
I lost?
I lost in Sumo?
What kind of move was it?
Slapping?
There's something in my ear…
I won't accept this!
Hey.
What are you doing here all alone?
What?
You see that sign, don't you?
Normally, I'd shoot without warning,
but since you're new, I'll overlook it.
I gave you a warning.
Oh, Mr. Baki.
Terrible meal, right?
I heard.
I thought you were "Mr. Second" because you were the number two,
but that's not why.
That's right.
"Second" means second generation.
Second generation to Mr. Unchained.
The first generation is still here.
Mr. Oliva's time is over.
That's what everyone wants too.
No one actually approves of that ridiculous lifestyle of his.
He continues to get what he wants by just using force.
Oliva and Bosch are both Americans, after all.
And you're different?
You talk too much.
Talking is prohibited!
This baton…
-Is jiggly. -Don't move!
Okay.
Mealtime!
Shh.
Your meal is only bread and a cup of soup.
There's no need for a fork or knife.
Besides, you can't even use a spoon in that state.
Your first day and you're getting quite the treatment.
That man…
Mr. Second.
Who is he?
He's a president.
But of a country no one knows.
It once used to be just an island off South America.
A tiny country with a population of less than 20,000.
True name, Jun Guevaru.
A 21-year-old third generation Nikkei.
I don't know Kanji characters,
but the "Jun" was like this.
The character meaning "pure"?
He goes by J. Guevaru in English.
He was originally a stealing, blackmailing, out-of-hand hoodlum.
That's a common story.
No, it's not.
Guevaru's mischiefs,
weren't in the streets,
but the ocean.
It other words, he was a pirate.
What? A pirate?
His method was simple.
He'd block the path of a cruise ship to make it stop.
Using ropes…
he'd invade and suppress all at once,
steal their money and goods.
If the story ended there,
he would've just been Guevaru, the young hoodlum.
But at seventeen, a turning point came to Guevaru.
What Guevaru saw
was the sight of most people using their money and power,
to treat the islanders like slaves.
On the island, people of all ages worked together.
Necessities were divided equally,
and experiences of joy and sadness were shared.
But now?
For their meager earnings,
not only were they not treated as equals,
the islanders' pride and culture
were being raped by the capitalism of the great powers.
That's when Guevaru
aimed for the island's independence.
Since a young age, Guevaru had been receiving
special martial arts training from his grandfather.
He began to teach it to his men.
He forbade the use of weapons.
He wasn't trying to impart some naive sense of justice.
Guevaru's project was backed by his conviction in victory.
Guevaru's training intensified competition.
Against bare fists.
Against weapons.
Against projectiles.
Against explosives.
The number of casualties increased,
but they say no one chose to quit.
That's how much Guevaru's plan
gave them the taste of victory.
Around the time the members stopped getting scars on their bodies,
Guevaru's weaponless army was completed.
Guevaru immediately led the movement for independence,
but because he was so young, the citizens only half-believed him.
But the one who hated his action more than anyone,
was none other than George Bosch.
Say, can't we do something about that island?
I hear there's talk of independence.
That's when the incident happened.
Can't we take out a carrier or something?
Have it fly back and forth a few times?
Then it could skim the ground and bam!
A tiny island like that would only take one shot.
If I may, Mr. President.
In general, independence is something that should be respected.
As long as the leader and the people's goals are unified.
Deputy James,
we aren't in front of a camera with the citizens watching.
Read the room.
Are you okay with a defector from the United States?
Defector?
It's not independence.
This is 20,000 people defecting.
Is that really okay for the world's greatest nation?
Let's send troops into the island for the time being.
Under the pretext of suppressing a coup.
We won't let them say otherwise. We can control the media.
I knew you had potential, Secretary Ray.
Defense Secretary, how long to get the military ready?
If it's the President's order, by today.
This is it! The frontier spirit!
That's enough.
Freeze!
Move and the President's cervical spine will do a 360 turn.
The three guards will stand facing the wall and raise your arms.
Hurry up!
Y-You're…
Chamomile Lessen.
Of course, I'm on your personal security detail, and…
I'm also a native of the current topic, that tiny island.
I am one of J. Guevaru's men.
We just wish for our humble independence.
We want you to quietly stand by and watch.
You're not using a weapon right now,
you think you can get away with this?
There are 50 US states.
Currently, including myself,
we've completed placing two of us in every state.
And all of us,
can hijack a plane bare-handed,
or seize a nuclear plant.
Of course, that goes for me as well.
Pardon me.
The stubborn cold wave has gone silent.
It finally feels like there's a gentle breeze
whispering in my ear, here in Califonia.
That's my house!
Today,
I've come to visit the home of George Bosch,
a country boy from the farms of Alabama.
What's going on?
Thanks for having me.
Oh, my.
The missus and the family are welcoming me with smiles.
What an American smile.
In the unnecessarily spacious living room, sunlight filters in the atrium.
It reminds me of the Alabama sun and my parents.
I'm grateful to my parents.
I love my family.
I love my country.
I love humanity.
Where's security?
Son, do you love your dad?
I love him!
Me too!
What did you think of the Bosch residence?
Reflect on an overly arrogant life.
Pause for a moment and look back at your blind spot.
I have a feeling it won't go to waste.
All right, see you.
Of course, this is live.
We are on equal footing with the US.
As long as our rights are not violated, I will guarantee your safety.
Please consider.
I understand.
Okay.
Mission complete.
Guevaru did what everyone thought impossible,
he won independence as equals.
But why would a man like that be in prison?
It's simple.
Who's here?
That's right.
The strongest fighter in America,
Biscuit Oliva is here.
A weaponless man on equal ground as George Bosch.
For Bosch, Oliva is a thorn in his side.
So he's going to stop Oliva with his bare hands.
It's an attractive fight for Guevaru.
He wants to fight Oliva.
There are a multitude of men like that in this prison.
Same as you, Baki.
Subtitle translation by: Harry Darkins