So, you want a match with him, do you, Mister?
Why would you think I want a match?
No one doubts your strength
but what Baki did the other day, walking out the front gate…
it had a tremendous effect on the inmates.
For a little outing?
I don't want to say this, but…
Say it.
Baki going out is different from when you or Guevaru go out.
When you or Guevaru go out, it's due to the strength of your position.
With Baki, on the other hand…
Are you suggesting the kid's strength is more pure?
Oh, no. I'm not saying that.
That's just the rumor that's going around.
Shall I show them?
What a walk out the front gate looks like?
This is why I didn't want to say anything!
If you attempted that, not even the Marines could stop you.
I hear the President is quite the fan of martial arts.
Send him an invitation.
Put out a press release.
Our very own Arizona State Prison
will put on a great fighting sports event and broadcast it to the world.
I see.
The legend, Biscuit Oliva, the strongest man in America,
takes on Baki Hanma, the strongest boy in history.
Oh wow!
We'll sell the rights to cable television
and broadcast it throughout America.
Wonderful!
It'll have a much better economic effect
than having inmates dig roads.
Wonderful!
I'm envious.
Of who?
You used to have a beauty that turned every head in town.
Then you fell sick, and after taking countless medications,
you came to look as you do today.
You've lost your beauty, a woman's greatest joy in life.
But, look at you.
You're unwavering.
As haughty as you ever were.
As uninhibited as you ever were.
As dignified as you ever were.
Living proudly, without changing a thing.
I'm just shameless.
You'd probably…
Come here.
…remain dignified, even if the whole world were to abandon you--
Just come here.
I don't think I have the right--
Are you going to make a lady repeat herself thrice?
Darling, even I'm just barely holding on.
I'll give you what you want.
In two weeks.
All of America will know your name.
You just don't get it, Mr. Chained.
Are you going senile, Chained?
So, you think I'm chained?
All I want to do is fight you.
I don't need two weeks for anything.
What do you mean?
I mean this.
If either you or I move. Then, like it or not,
it'll start then and there.
You want to start it right here?
You're not a true fighter.
It's a fight between just you and me.
Why does anyone else need to see?
Don't you get it?
Right now, both of your thumbs are cuffed together.
You plan on fighting me in that condition?
I'm the one picking this fight. Plus--
I'm not as shackled as you.
Is that what I look like to you?
Yeah, pitifully shackled.
I'm not talking about that.
I'm asking you, do I look like someone you can beat without both hands?
Do you get it, Mister?
This is not the time to be worried about how you look.
Sorry about that. I'm up to speed now.
Oh, boss!
I was wrong.
The match starts now.
You're certainly the son of the Ogre.
So earnest about fighting.
I was wrong.
It's as you say.
I wasn't a true fighter.
Forgive me.
Sorry to keep you waiting.
Now that you're finally awake,
I can't fight like this.
Ah, so, you're less constrained,
but that won't be quite enough.
Oh, shut up.
I see.
The blood in the arms goes in through the inner arteries,
and goes to the torso through the outer veins.
This is why you hold something in your armpit when you have a hand injury,
to stop the bleeding by cutting off the inner arteries.
With lats as developed as yours, Baki,
the artery can be cut off without holding anything in the armpit.
By tightening your armpits, the blood flow to the arteries is cut off.
The blood in the arms simply flows out.
Without blood, the arms and fingers gradually thin, until…
Sorry for the wait.`
Huh?
You're knowledgeable.
Now we're both free.
You, and I.
A broken wall lies between us, but--
That's right.
We're already in each other's space.
Heavy.
Yeah, that's pretty good.
That's really good, Baki!
A great blow to the body, given these restrictive conditions.
Remarkable that you could get this much weight behind it.
I'm looking forward to this.
How's this, Baki?
Why don't you come over here!
Rich Cox, 33 years old. American.
Sentenced to 18 years.
He was stuck in the wall.
No, Baki was.
And then--
He was forcibly pulled through.
What happened to the wall?
There wasn't one anymore!
It'd become one room!
And then Mister said--
Out of the way, Cox.
You bet I moved!
What was incredible came after that.
He had his arm and leg like this.
Did he throw him to the ground?
No, he didn't.
Like this, get it?
He flung him.
Like a towel!
He was doing to a person! Flinging him!
I don't know how many times he did it.
Must have been disheartening.
I mean, it was beyond a difference in physical strength.
After that?
He let him go.
Because to the boss, he's just a towel.
Huh? After that? I dunno.
Why not, you ask?
He went into the next cell.
Or rather, much farther!
Second witness, Edward Bacara. American.
Twenty-nine years old. Eight-year sentence.
His nickname is Unchained,
but I thought it was about authority.
You know, rules. Laws.
That he wasn't bound by any of that.
Well, that's what you'd think, right?
That, in and of itself is amazing enough.
But that's not it.
It doesn't mean anything so abstract.
Anyone would know if they saw it.
It means there's no room that could hold him.
I mean, he goes through three solitary cell walls--
Sorry, I mean four. Then he breaks a steel door.
There's nothing that could keep hold of a guy like that.
Let me talk about what happened after that.
Bob McCarthy. Twenty-seven years old. American. Prison Guard.
Right, so he was waiting for him to get up.
His gaze was surprisingly tranquil,
as if he wasn't in the middle of a fight.
That's when it happened.
As he was getting up, Baki delivered a kick to the calf.
After being dropped onto concrete from three floors up,
it was amazing Baki was counterattacking, but--
Mr. Oliva easily grabbed him.
He's so fast, even with that body of his.
Baki kicked him, with his other leg.
But Mr. Oliva was like an Olympic torch bearer.
He calmly directed us--
to "get back."
I doubted my own ears.
I'd never heard a sound like that before.
Baki Hanma was engraved in the ground, as if he were a stamp.
When we measured it later, it was a 30 cm deep imprint.
What was Oliva thinking then?
I dunno. It's hard to say.
He's a man of many mysteries, even to us.
I gasped.
Even though he just went from face down to face up,
he moved on his own volition!
Ah…
That feels good.
The full power of the strongest man, Biscuit Oliva.
This feeling, this sweet tingling…
It's the same as five years ago.
That feeling I had fighting my father, Yujiro Hanma.
An unfathomable difference in capability.
How nostalgic.
Ah, there it goes.
Now it's starting.
Huh? Am I melting?
Liquefying.
Viscous.
Then runny.
Just like water.
No, even silkier.
Silkier than water, expanding,
until I fill this whole place up.
That's right! Baki jumped back up.
No, not a jump.
It wasn't something that simple.
What first alerted me to the change was
the floor.
The concrete he had lain on,
specifically where his back had been.
Baki's sweat stains looked just like a face!
I'd heard the legendary tales, but this was my first time seeing it.
It exists only in Japanese martial arts.
And, was ultimately sealed away. Hit Muscle Exercise.
The appearance of the devil's face, formed only by that kind of training.
What's even more amazing is that, standing there,
Baki reminded me of a man…
the most skilled swordsman in the world,
a man everyone knows of, Musashi Miyamoto.
It's said that Musashi Miyamoto's physical ability
surpasses even that of a modern gold-medalist athlete.
Such an extraordinary martial artist,
but Baki Hanma, a mere 18-year-old teen, made me think of him.
What's going to happen now?
You're late, Baki.
You shouldn't make your elders wait.
You look good.
Shall we begin?
I couldn't help but anticipate it.
I'd seen it once in a Japanese movie.
Fate decided in an instant.
An unsporty conclusion like that.
Mr. Oliva was fully aware of the change in the young man.
Beautiful, Baki.
I seem to have hit quite the switch.
You know, cheap tricks don't suit me.
Here I come!
I swear to God,
I did not blink in that moment.
I think Mr. Oliva went to move forward.
Ever so slightly, it looked like his weight transferred forward.
Then, as if he changed his mind, he mysteriously dived to the floor.
For us Westerners,
it was such a high-level battle, we couldn't even follow it.
But, we were lucky.
We had something that was watching what happened.
Ready? I'm going to start the timer.
The two of them haven't moved yet.
Now Baki starts moving. Oliva hasn't moved yet.
A hit!
The images after this show that Oliva had already blacked out at this moment.
This is about when our naked eyes were able to register it.
This is one second after the start.
Oliva…
He didn't even resist.
That's right.
"That's right," you say? Come on, now.
Explain. Why didn't he resist?
Because Mr. Oliva wasn't conscious.
What is this, a joke?
Are you saying he lost consciousness?
The video shows him standing there.
He's ready to fight.
Yes, that is true. But…
Just as I thought.
The snotty-nosed kid had a growth spurt.
Expected nothing less from a Hanma.
I was right to expect great things.
Tor Nørretranders wrote the book,
The User Illusion: Cutting Consciousness Down to Size.
In that book, Nørretranders writes,
Consciousness is delayed 0.5 seconds.
When a person moves,
a signal is sent to the brain 0.5 seconds beforehand.
For example, a knife comes flying at you.
The signal is sent!
But, consciousness comes 0.5 seconds later.
Now the brains says, "Danger! Move!"
Action occurs.
In other words, you are unconscious during the 0.5 seconds it takes
to become aware of the signal that was sent.
Anything can happen in that time frame.
The briefest of moments.
And, you made it yours.
The many difficult situations you have escaped.
Not being able to let up in your daily life.
And then, the Hanma blood coursing through your body.
All of those things gifted you 0.5 seconds.
A rare way of thinking, impossible in modern sports.
It exists only in Japanese martial arts.
While, that is indeed a treasure…
I don't need it.
Because I have this!
What is that?
Subtitle translation by: Harry Darkins