The House Always Wins (JJK/Fate/Hajime no Ippo/Multi) (Chaos Gacha) (Patreon)

I'm still on break for the week, but I ended up writing this up in my free time, so enjoy!

...

Two types of people attended rookie boxing matches -- friends or family of one of the rookies, or die-hard boxing fans who were willing to sit through a hundred boring matches in the hopes that they would see the start of a legend with their own eyes. So, when I started to walk down the tunnel, it didn't surprise me to see an anemic crowd in a stadium that could comfortably fit five thousand people. 

“In his debut match is Ryuma Sakamoto! Weighing in at a hundred and twenty-five pounds, he hails from Kamogawa Gym, home of the former Featherweight Champion, Ippo Makunouchi!” The announcer called out, and the anemic crowd started to cheer, but I wasn't under any delusion that they were cheering for me. 

The former champion himself certainly did, though. “Wow, Ryuma,” Ippo Makunouchi remarked to me, carrying a stool as he looked around at the stadium with a nostalgic expression. “There are way more people here for your first match! They have high expectations for you.” 

I didn't reply since my mouthguard was already in place, so I just shared a glance with the other man in my corner. Haruhiko Yagi was a man of even height with Ippo, which put him a few inches shorter than me, and he fixed his glasses to hide his smile at Ippo's genuine obliviousness. “That's right! So you better not let the crowd down, Ryuma!” 

That got a snort of amusement from me as we walked towards the ring, and I slipped between the ropes and stood in the middle of the ring, waiting for my opponent to emerge with the referee standing nearby. 

I took a moment to drink in the view. The stadium was less than a quarter full, but that was still hundreds of people in the seats around the ring. The bright lights were hotter than I expected, making me feel like I was under a sun lamp. The sounds of cheering felt like a physical sensation now that I stood at the center of them. 

It was a sight that had been unthinkable in my last life. A life that was crippled by social anxiety, and it was probably a trauma response that I went so far in the opposite extreme because I could have choked on all of my regrets when I left that life behind. I had avoided being the center of attention like the plague, and something like this would have been my greatest nightmare -- hundreds of eyes on me, thousands more watching through a TV screen, and one day, tens of thousands more would pick through every action that I made, analyzing them for any weakness to be exploited in the fights to come. 

It would be a lie to say that there wasn't an echo of that past life in me. That me who overthought every action to the point I did nothing at all. But that part of me was overshadowed by a simple truth. 

‘This is just the first step in a long road.’ My doubts and hesitation were crushed under that thought. That ambition. Clenching my jaw and my fists, I looked to the opposite tunnel to see my opponent walking forward as the announcer made the introduction. 

“Entering the ring with a record of two matches, both victories by knockout, is Kenji Aikotsuda!” The announcer continued as my opponent entered the ring. He was about an inch shorter than me, but he was built wider. His black hair was shaggy, and his eyes burned with intensity, but I knew that it had nothing to do with me as he started shadow boxing during his approach. He was looking at Ippo behind me, knowing that this would be the closest he ever got to having a match with the man. 

By fighting his disciple. 

I didn't pay it any mind as the ref checked our gloves, told us he wanted a clean fight, and it was only when our gloves tapped that Kenji seemed to register my presence at all. Going back into my corner, Ippo was determined to get one last piece of advice in. 

“Remember, you're both in-fighters! He'll press you from the start, but don't be afraid of it!” He exclaimed with such urgency, you'd think he was the one in the ring. 

I chuckled softly, nodding as I rolled my shoulders and loosened up. We had prepared endlessly for this match, my debut in the world of professional boxing. Tapes of Kenji's two matches were reviewed and analyzed until each individual frame was seared into memory. Ippo and I sparred hundreds of times to prepare me for Kenji's style of in-fighting, which wasn't that different from Ippo's style before he retired -- charging in like a bullet and wrecking everything before him with powerful punches. My physical training pushed me to heights I had never imagined… 

All that was left was to win. 

As if to agree with me, the bell rang, and the first round started.

Then we moved. Kenji went in with a right jab that was blocked, and no sooner than the first one was thrown, he followed it up with a left hook that I slipped my head under before countering with a right hook of my own that he similarly blocked. My foot pivoted on the ring, shifting my weight for a body shot that didn’t come because the moment that he anticipated it, I switched to southpaw and landed a jab across his jaw. 

His head snapped to the side with so much force that I thought his head was genuinely going to fly off. Maybe it would have, but instead, the rest of his body followed after him, sending him flying onto the mat. I stepped back to my neutral corner as the ref moved in, starting the count. 

The ref got as high as five before Kenji showed any signs of stirring, but when he did, he launched himself back up on two wobbling legs at the nine count. Now Kenji was looking at me, swallowing a lump in his throat as he raised his guard before the ref resumed the match. 

I dove in, my guard up as Kenji unleashed a barrage of punches with the intention of keeping me at bay. Revealing what Ippo and I had suspected -- he was a switch, an in-boxer that could out-box as well. It wasn't very common as the two styles were extremely different. 

In-fighters were high speeds in your face boxers that focused on explosive power and high guard. Out-boxers were distance fighters, focusing on maneuverability, dodges, and counters who darted in for a punch then darted out of range. 

I weaved between three rapid-fire punches, before I used a fourth as a rail to slide right into the pocket. An in-fighter's home away from home, and unleashed a right hook directly into his liver that folded the man like laundry. His feet lifted an inch off the ground, but by the time he started to fall, I was coming up with a left hook that caught him in the jaw, which sent him slamming into the ground with enough force that his mouth guard erupted from his mouth. 

Again, taking a step back, I let the ref step forward where he began his count. 

This time, he got as high as three before he suddenly waved his hands. My breathing hitched, realizing what it meant even before the announcer spoke. 

“And it is a one-round knockout for Ryuma! Kenji is out cold!” The announcer said, but I could barely hear him over my thundering heartbeat and the roaring of the crowd. 

It almost felt anti-climactic, in a strange way. Every time I shadowboxed with Kenji in mind, I always imagined an absolute slug fest that would last a few rounds at the very least. Kenji had been a standout in the newest generation of rookies, so I hadn't expected… this.

Then I felt someone grab me from behind, “You did it! You won!” Ippo shouted, so damn happy you'd think it was his victory. That broke the spell of my shock, and I threw a fist in the air, a smile curling the edges of my lips. Ippo set me down and patted me on the back, “That was a perfect round, Ryuma!” 

I took my mouthguard out, “Not quite. I should have gone with an upper-cut in the pocket,” I muttered, sparing a glance at Kenji, and guilt clenching in my guts when I saw that he was still out cold. His team was putting him on a stretcher, with his coach sparing a glance at me as they carried him off. 

“He's a boxer, brat,” the coach half snapped at me as much as he was reassuring me. “If you aren't ready to be carried out of the ring, then you shouldn't step into it in the first place.” 

Ippo stilled at the remark just a touch, and I offered a bow of my head. The coach followed them back to the tunnel, where medical staff would bandage his injuries and try to coax him back to consciousness. During that time, however, we were approached by the announcer, and I found a microphone shoved in my face. “Ryuma! You've made an excellent first showing, but I'm sure all are eager to know what the goals are of Ippo Makunouchi's top disciple!” 

This wasn't normal, I knew. But I wasn't quite a no-name rookie either. It had been about two years since Ippo had retired from the ring, but the world of Featherweight boxing still revolved around him, and unlike America, Featherweight boxing was by far the biggest division compared to their Heavyweight division. And, as his disciple, an unordinary amount of attention was placed on me as a result. 

I didn't mind. It was that attention that led to me being challenged by Kenji the moment I received my boxing license a week ago. 

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I looked out at the crowd that was eagerly awaiting for my declaration. However, my gaze landed on a few in particular within the crowd. The rest of Kamogawa gym’s notable fighters; Masaru Aoki and Tatsuya Kimura had been with the gym the longest, but among them was Manabu Itagaki. However, my gaze was on one man in particular. 

Mamoru Takamura. The Bear Slayer. Japan’s KO King. The Almighty. The King of Perverts. The former Japan’s Middleweight Champion, Junior Middleweight World Champion, Middleweight World Champion, Middleweight World Champion, and the current Super Middleweight World Champion. A bear of a man that still stuck with the pompadour, towering over the rest of the gym with a height of 6’1, and there was a downright feral smile on his face. 

If he was happy with this much, then he was going to love what came next.

“It’s only natural that I would follow in my mentors’ footsteps and become the All Japan Rookie Champion,” I started, and the crowd was already eating it up. The championship was a two-parter with four matches to decide the East Rookie Champion, and then there would be a fight with the West Rookie Champion to decide the All Rookie Champion. Doing that would put me in tenth place in my weight division in Japan, and with a few more victories, I could earn a shot at the title. 

But that wasn’t enough. 

“However,” I continued, cutting off the crowd before they could get in the swing of things. “My mentor Mamoru has been a point of inspiration as well.” The announcer’s breathing hitched, realizing what I meant by that, “So I will be challenging the Junior Light and Lightweight divisions at the same time. Because, unlike him, I’m not a pansy that needs a weight edge.” I said, giving Mamoru a thumbs down. 

Ah, I was going to pay for that comment later, but it was totally worth it. It took the three boxers with him to stop him from jumping on stage to make me swallow the words, but the fact was that he let them stop him. There was a dangerous gleam in his eye, though. One who understood the full weight of my declaration. 

The average-ranked fighter in Japan would fight around four times a year. Sometimes five. A fight roughly every three months was the general expectation for a fighter, but it wasn’t uncommon to go without a match for four months. Even five. 

The Rookie Tournament offered a higher intensity number of matches with a total of five spread across about six months. That, however, was for a single weight class. Challenging three of them would be fifteen matches spread over six months, and as if that wasn’t challenging enough, ten of those matches would be higher weight divisions. The sheer advantage of even an extra pound of muscle couldn’t be understated. 

And because the tournament was spread over six months, I would have no time for recovery. Any damage that I took in any match would accumulate with every subsequent match until, if I wasn’t careful, I would step into the ring more dead than alive. Meaning that the only way the challenge was remotely possible was to not take damage leading up to the All Rookie Championship fight. A series of fights over days, starting with Featherweight and ending with Lightweight, so the fights would get harder each subsequent day.

“That’s- that’s impossible,” the announcer breathed, and he was one of the few who could understand the sheer enormity of the challenge. Far more so than the crowd, who were just hyped. 

I smiled at the announcer setting me up, “Impossible? I’m the one who decides that.” The crowd loved the confidence, if nothing else. And the force of it startled the announcer from his stunned expression. I’m sure that he had another question or two, but I smiled at him and started to leave the ring, knowing that I couldn’t end on a better note. 

The crowd didn’t stop cheering until we vanished from sight, heading back into the locker room. And it was there that the owner of Kamogawa Gym sat on the bench, his cane clenched between two hands, and leveling a glare at me as soon as I stepped inside the room -- Genji Kamogawa himself. 

“You brat!” He immediately launched into a scolding, waving his cane threateningly. “Challenging three divisions? Even that idiot Mamoru has enough sense to challenge weight classes beneath him! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why didn’t you say anything about this?!”

“Because you would have tried to talk me out of it?” I tried, making a vein in his temple throb, and now I really thought he was going to start beating me with the cane. 

“If you knew that much, you shouldn’t have done it at all, you fool!” Genji snapped at me, jabbing the cane at me while I started shrugging off my boxing gear and getting dressed -- tennis shoes, pants, a tank top under a windbreaker. Along with roughly a hundred pounds of weights spread across my body. Fifteen on each leg, ten on each arm, with the remaining fifty pounds spread across my torso. 

The world I was reborn into was undoubtedly an anime one. If the wide array of hair colors didn’t give it away, then the shonen weight training actually working would have. 

“You’ve consigned yourself to a hell on earth!” Genji finished, gritting his teeth at me as I got dressed. 

“That’s fine,” I answered, getting used to the weight settling across my body once more. “I’ll just become the devil, then.” That took the wind right out of the old man’s sails, and he dragged a hand over his face. But, I think I caught a glimpse of a smile all the same. 

He humphed, “Ippo!” 

“Sir?” Ippo snapped to attention, going ramrod straight, expecting a scolding. 

“Your fool disciple has gotten himself in way over his head, but no man can walk back a challenge like that without being humiliated. So, I want you to do your absolute best to kill him with training. He is going to eat, drink, and dream boxing every second of every day! Is that clear?!” 

“Yes, sir!” Ippo answered dutifully, snapping off a salute like he was in the army. That just earned another huff from the old man as he stood up and started walking towards the door. 

The old man spared me one last glance over his shoulder before leaving, his gaze taking a new measure of me. I’m not sure what he saw, but it was enough to make him sigh and shake his head as he left the locker room. But not without a parting question, “Why?”

There was a lot I could say to the question, but the truth was a secret that I would take to my grave: Because I died alone. I died scared. I died in so much pain that I couldn’t even scream. Because I left nothing behind in my last life -- no legacy, no mark on the world. Because I lived a life of absolute obscurity, convinced myself I was happy because I was too scared to do anything.

“Because I can,” I answered, and that was the core of it. I didn’t have a grander reason than that, but those few words left so much unsaid. 

Despite the angle, I did see a smile tug at the old man’s face. “Fool. But, if you don’t get yourself killed with this stunt… that attitude is going to carry you far.” With that, he left the locker room alongside Haruhiko.

It was when they left that Ippo dropped the salute and chuckled ruefully, “You might be my disciple, Ryuma, but I do wonder if you take too much after Mamoru…” 

“Oof. Not sure what I did to deserve that insult,” I remarked with an unrepentant grin, lacing up my sneakers. “It’s necessary for my ambition.”

“Three world title belts,” Ippo echoed what I told him at the very beginning. The words that convinced him to take me as his disciple just after his retirement. “Most people would be happy with just one.”

“I’m not most people,” I admitted. At this point in boxing history, there had yet to be a dual division world champion, and I was aiming for three. “I knew from the very start the road was going to be pure hell. The All Rookie Championship is just the first step. If I lose my nerve already, then I never stood a chance in the first place.”

Ippo gave me a measured look, “Jokes aside, that attitude is something you have in common with Mamoru. You both have an ambition to accomplish in the ring. You’re both willing to step over the line for them. While I…” he trailed off, his lips thinning. 

I knew what his problem was. Because I had seen it written out on a page in ink. 

“Despite whatever anyone says, your reasons for retiring are valid,” I filled the silence, making him look up. Ippo had retired because of brain damage, or the threat of it. For most of his career, Ippo had blocked with his face, and the damage built up until it reached a tipping point -- he could keep pushing and risk permanent injury, or he could step back with his health intact. “Are you happy?”

Now he seemed a bit put out, giving the question honest thought. “I am?” It came out as a question, making him frown a bit before a more peaceful expression settled on his face. “I am,” he repeated with more certainty. “I miss fighting in the ring, and I have regrets. Rematches I could have had, or to finally have the fight with Ichiro, but I’m happy.”

“Then that’s enough,” I told him, doing some light stretches. 

In another life, I had seen what it would take to bring Ippo out of his retirement. Hajime no Ippo was one of the longest-running manga at seventeen hundred chapters by the time I died, and for about six hundred of them, Ippo had been retired. He still trained, still sparred, and improved his foundations, so by the time he came out of retirement, he was a true monster. 

His comeback had been teased. Hinted at. There were a lot of theories as to what would bring him back into the ring, but the most prevalent one turned out to be true. 

Takeshi Sendo, a rival and friend of Ippo, would die fighting the current World Featherweight Champion, Ricardo Martínez. 

It was a death that many saw coming. As a narrative beat, it was still compelling because Takeshi was a favorite character for many. A rival done right. And if Takeshi had a choice to die anywhere, it would be inside the ring. 

But he hadn't died without regrets. They were written in ink on a page: he could never fulfill his grandmother's last wish of starting a family. He died without becoming the world champion. He died without having one more match with Ippo. He regretted how terribly all the kids that he looked after and looked up to him would feel. 

Only now, Takeshi Sendo wasn't a character in one of the few manga I grew up reading. I knew him. I sparred with him. His grandma had snuck me some candy as a thank you for ‘playing with her grandson.’ I saw how destroyed she was by Takeshi's death, passing on not long after -- not because of her deteriorating health, but simply because she had nothing to live for. How Ippo's retirement caused a wedge between him and his almost-but-not-quite girlfriend Kumi that I hadn't lived long enough to see resolved.

‘One year.’ 

I had one year to catch Ricardo Martínez’s attention. One year to climb the ranks of the world stage. One year before Takeshi dies in the ring and sets something terrible in motion. 

“RRRYYYUUUMMMMAAA!” Came a roar that echoed down the halls, making a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow for training!” I said, offering a wave to Ippo before hurrying out of the locker room. I knew I shouldn’t, but I glanced down the hall to see Mamoru, just barely being held back by the others. 

“Run! Run, you idiot!” Tatsuya shouted at me, red in the face as he tried to push back the bear of a man. “We’ll hold him back as long as we can!” 

I clapped my hands, offering their soon-to-be departed souls a sincere prayer, before I turned on my heel and sprinted for dear life to make sure that I didn’t join them in the afterlife, laughing all the while. 

…

I slowed down once it was clear that Mamoru was going to save my execution for tomorrow, leaving me to do some road work. After all, it was only about a dozen miles to Fujimi Academy, the boarding school I got a scholarship into. It had an on-site dormitory, which meant that I was still a few years away from needing to worry about bills. 

I was barely winded by the time I arrived at the closed gates, and with a quick hop, I scrambled over them, landing as lightly as I could given I was wearing about my own body weight in weights. Sticking to the shadows, I pulled my hood down as I rounded the gym. 

A faint sound echoed out, telling me someone was inside. The echo was rhythmic, though, and that told me who it was, so despite the risk of getting caught outside of curfew, I opened the door and popped my head in. 

And there she was. 

Saeko Busujima. 

She wore her kendo gear, though her long dark purple hair was pulled back in a ponytail as she repeatedly practiced one set of strikes. Her bokken was well-worn but well-loved, complete with a little tiger-strap charm she had received from an upperclassman who graduated before I had the chance to meet them. Taiga something. She stood alone in the gym, a dim light revealing her as she stepped forward, swung, then reset. 

My arrival didn't go unnoticed: “What delinquency, Sakamoto-kun.” She clocked me as I entered the gym, not even looking over her shoulder as she practiced the same swing likely for the thousandth time tonight. “If you want forgiveness, then you had better tell me the outcome of your match.” 

“Round one KO. My win, of course,” I answered with a grin, approaching her openly. Despite the added weight, I nearly ghosted across the gymnasium. “Not sure when my next match will be, but I'm guessing soon.” The Gym was probably already receiving some.

Saeko let out a low hum, delivering one final strike to the head of the dummy before she looked my way. Her eyes were the same shade of purple as her hair. “I suppose that is to be expected. When it comes to infuriating the enemy, you are second to none. What manner of crass remark did you make?” 

“None this time. Just that I'm going to take home the championship, and a few more just for fun.” 

“Ah,” Saeko's lips twisted into a sly grin. “Trampling over the pride, then? Effective. A pity that you don’t turn those talents to kendo.” Ah, that old argument. 

It had taken me a few years to realize that I wasn’t just reborn, I had been reborn in a universe that I recognized -- Hajime no Ippo. It had been pure chance that I made the realization as I had been walking by a TV when Ippo suffered his first defeat at the hands of Eiji Date. It had been a real trip. 

But not as much as it had been meeting Saeko as a first year at Fujimi Academy, and coming to the very startling revelation that I wasn’t just in the mundane world of Hajime no Ippo. I was in a crossover with High School of the Dead. A series that I knew far, far, far less about than Hajime no Ippo. I knew it took place in a school as a number of students band together to survive the zombie apocalypse, but other than that… 

The only other thing that I knew was the single craziest thing that I had seen in anime -- Saeko’s bullet dodging tiddie jiggles. 

Hadn’t seen any of that yet, but I was willing to chalk that up to animation style. 

“Swords are cool, but I like punching people too much to give it up,” I replied, heading over to the equipment storage room and grabbing a heavy bag. Swords were indeed quite cool, and if the zombie apocalypse really happened, then I imagine that it would be really useful. However, the stakes weren’t as high with kendo. No one would die if he didn’t become the kendo champion. The skill ceiling wasn’t as high as kendo was localized to Japan. 

Boxing worked better with my ambitions. 

I genuinely had no clue if I was facing down a zombie apocalypse. There were no signs of it yet, no reports of a mysterious cannibal disease or unexplained information blackouts. I was still preparing, of course. And what teenage boy didn’t have a plan for the zombie apocalypse?

But I wasn’t sure if it would really happen. Were the characters of Hajime no Ippo in Highschool of the Dead? Or were the characters of Highschool of the Dead in Hajime no Ippo? If it were the latter, then I knew who I would be teaming up with to survive the apocalypse. If it was the latter? Given that Hajime no Ippo was a boxing manga? Then it meant I didn’t need to worry about it because the apocalypse wouldn’t come. 

“Delinquent,” she accused me again without any real heat, watching me drag the heavy bag with one hand before pulling down a hook. Taking off my windbreaker and fishing my gloves out of my bag, I was faintly surprised when she approached to help me put them on. “You could at least pretend to entertain the offer. This is my last year as part of the kendo club.” 

Japanese high schools only lasted for three years. That had been a surprise. It wasn’t even mandatory schooling, as you could drop out right out of middle school. And, much like American high schools, it was the last year that was the most important. That’s when people stepped back from clubs for the sake of cramming and focusing on their studies in the hopes of getting into a good college. 

“Boxing is an American sport. You should take more pride in your heritage. You share the last name of a famous samurai,” she pointed out, even as she helped me put the gloves on. 

“Says the daughter of a samurai family. Your bias is showing,” I snorted, testing the gloves and nodding my thanks. “Are you going to drop being the kendo captain?”

“No,” she denied flatly as I stood before the bag and the bag became Ippo in my mind, and I started punching accordingly, my body reacting to imagined blows. The gymnasium became filled with the rhythmic sound of gloves hitting the heavy bag that rocked back with every explosive punch. “Kendo is my life. And I still have a promise to fulfill to senpai.”

“Winning nationals?” I echoed, my breathing even as I worked the bag. I hadn’t known it when I applied to Fujimi Academy, but it was a pretty prestigious school. Not quite on the level of Shuchi’in Academy, which only accepted the heirs of major corporations, politicians, and so on, but still prestigious enough that old families like the Busujimas, which had been a samurai clan for the better part of eight hundred years, were the norm. 

Honestly, if I had known, I probably wouldn’t have applied. I only did because the dormitory was part of the scholarship. Even without the casual elitism of the students and the teachers, I really could have done without the constant stress of worry that a zombie apocalypse was going to start one day. 

I didn’t have any proof that it was yet. But I also didn’t have any proof that it wouldn’t. The only hint that I had was that it would happen when Saeko was in high school… which meant in addition to my blitz towards the world championship, I also had to worry about the world ending this year. 

“I came in second last year,” Saeko remarked, a certain steel in her voice. “This year I shall come in first.” She watched me for a moment, “but it would be easier to rank if all the underclassmen were as dedicated to their sport.” It was a rare honest praise from her. 

There was a reason that we clicked. Why she knew that I was the one sneaking into the gym at ten at night. And why I knew she was the one in the gym before I even opened the door. She was cut from the very same cloth as people like Mamoru, even more so than me, as she dedicated her entire life to the blade. Dedicated herself to the point that if you took it away from her, there wouldn’t be anything left. 

“I can be a ghost member… but I’m about to have enough matches in the next year than most have in their entire careers. I can’t promise much,” I offered an apologetic grin, but she shook her head with a soft smile. 

“No, that is unnecessary. I couldn’t-” Saeko cut herself off and that told me she felt it too. 

Without any warning, every hair stood on end, and it felt like my blood turned to ice. I froze mid-punch, a cold sweat suddenly breaking out. The only thing that I could compare the feeling that suddenly flooded me to was the sensation of getting in the ring with Ippo for the first time, with the understanding that he wouldn’t be holding anything back. It was the feeling of being trapped in the ring with a boar that could shatter bones with a punch. But even that comparison felt woefully inadequate. 

There was a beat of a very loud silence where neither of us even breathed. Then, over the sound of my heart thundering in my ears, I heard the long drawn-out squeak of the back door to the gym opening from the rusted hinges. Both of us pivoted in an instant to look at the source of the noise and I… 

I didn’t know what I was looking at. In the very literal sense that I couldn’t quite see it. Almost like my brain couldn’t process what was crawling through the door, sliding across the ground like a demented slug, beyond a fuzzy dark blur. 

Yet, I heard it clearly, its voice echoing across the empty gymnasium. “H-H-H-hom-me… w-work…!” There was a wobbling octave in its voice, and what vaguely looked like a hand slapping into the ground to pull itself closer towards us. “H-Her b-boobs… are b-bigger th-than m-m-m-m-mine!”

“What the fuck?” I heaved under my breath, my hands curling into fists, and I felt a river of sweat dripping down my back. The creature stilled near the door before, almost like it was coming into focus; I could see it as it locked onto me. And even when I could, I still wasn’t sure what I was looking at. 

I was wrong to compare it to a caterpillar; it was more like a millipede, only with misshapen hands slapping the ground to drag it forward. It was made out of some kind of gray lumpy skin with faces seemingly carved into it that wept some kind of black particle in a silent scream. It was easily two or three times as long as me, and even as it dragged itself across the floor, it stood about the same height as me. 

My focus was affixed to the large basket ball sized eye in the middle of what it had for a face, which was more like random features slapped on at random. My mouth was completely dry, every instinct that I had screaming at me to run, but my legs were rooted to the ground. 

“D-D-Don’t l-l-look at me, s-senpai!” The creature cried out, screaming loudly, and a pit opened up in my stomach, and that was the only warning that I had when the thing suddenly moved. Far faster than I expected it to be, as it suddenly moved as fast as I could at my top sprint. I threw myself to the side, grabbing Saeko and dragging her with me, just in time for the thing to smash into the wall hard enough to send up a cloud of dust when the heavy bag erupted on impact. 

‘What is happening?’ It didn’t feel real, even as I scrambled to my feet and Saeko bared her bokken like it was going to do something. One moment we were having our usual late-night chat as we squeezed in a late-night workout, nothing out of the ordinary, and now… I don’t even know what that thing was. A monster, clearly, but… 

There hadn’t been any signs that something like this existed in the world. No sign that there were literal monsters that walked the world. And as much as I wanted to just stop and stare, the adrenaline that surged through my veins gave me the juice to leap to conclusions. 

‘It’s not just a High School of the Dead and Hajime no Ippo crossover.’ I had no idea what else could be added into the mix, but I could already tell that I wasn’t a fan of it. But I didn’t have a second more to think before the stubby malformed hands that had dragged it forward suddenly grew and lashed out towards us like a whip. 

I threw up a guard, and I felt the impact in my arms like I had just tried to block a car. The bruise went bone deep, and I wasn’t sure if my arms were broken or not. All I knew was that I was knocked a half dozen feet back, landing heavily, but I was able to roll to my feet to see that Saeko was doing better than me. She retreated slowly, weaving and doging the hands that slapped down in the spaces that she was hard enough that the floorboards broke. 

But I saw more of the spots on the monster start to bubble up, growing more hands and that would tip the scales against her. 

I knew what my body would choose when it came to fight or flight. I knew because it had gotten me killed before. 

Yet, all the same, I sprinted towards the monster, undoing the weights at my wrists and flung them forward with all of my strength. One of them smacked away a hand that would have struck Saeko, while the other smacked the creature right in the big eye. It recoiled from the blow, clearly feeling it, but it didn’t seem to register any pain. Maybe it couldn’t? 

Closing in on Saeko, I stood next to her and lashed out against the arms that tried to overwhelm her. “We must flee,” she said, backing off a half step when the monster seemed to shuffle itself around. Now that I could see the creature clearly, I saw how its body bunched up, almost like a spring building up tension. 

“The back door. Dodge left,” I said with a calmness that I didn’t feel. Saeko had just enough time to nod before the thing threw itself at us, and now that I was a bit more prepared for it, the monster didn’t seem as fast. We both threw ourselves out of the way, the creature launching itself past us, and as soon as I stood up, I hauled Saeko to her feet and started running. And I never cursed my weights more than I did in that moment. 

Still, I was fast. Ippo hadn’t held back in my training at all, and I pushed myself even harder than he dared to push me. So I was easily able to keep pace with Saeko as we fled to the back door as the monster slammed into another wall. 

“D-Don’t g-graduate!” The monster protested, and I heard something wet splurt, and I glanced over my shoulder to see that the malformed arms were melding together, extending towards us at high speeds. My breathing hitched in my throat, and I made a split-second choice, shoving Saeko forward. 

I didn’t see the blow that hit me. Honestly, I only realized that I had been hit when it felt like I blinked, and I was lying face down. Something wet was dripping from my face, so I was bleeding. I couldn’t really feel anything else, but there was a warm throbbing coming from one arm, telling me that it was broken. 

“What the fuck?” I groaned, knowing that I couldn’t stay still but my legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Blinking dark spots out of my eyes, I started to push myself up and realized that one arm was definitely broken. My other was fine, though, so I had that going for me. 

“A-am I p-pretty, s-senpai?” The creature asked, crawling forward from behind at a more subdued pace. 

“Ryuma!” Saeko shouted, and for the first time, I saw something other than quiet amusement or polite indifference on her face. 

Ah, I’m totally going to die again? What the hell? What's with this difficulty spike? How did I go from riding a high from my first professional boxing match to this in the span of an hour? I really hope the next time I’m reborn, god learns a thing or two about game balance. 

[Paramaters met. Chaos Gacha has been activated.]

What?

[Prior feats catalogued. Tickets available:

Isekai: 1x Gold Random

Earned scholarship to Fujimi Academy: 1x Silver Random

Meet an anime protagonist: x2 Bronze Random

Won debut boxing match: 1x Gold Random]

I had so many questions. More questions that I couldn’t even begin to articulate. However, five tickets landed in my palm with a little notch and a line that said ‘tear here.’ It was pure blind desperation that drove me to just rip all four of them at the same time in the hopes that they could save my life. 

[Rivers of Blood]

|Uncommon Item|

Elden Ring - An old katana that has been used to the blood of countless, used by a champion of Mohg. The blade is incredibly durable and sharp despite its appearance. Whenever this blade scores flesh, the target will begin haemorrhaging unnaturally fast.

[Fire Fist]

|Uncommon Ability|

Allows you to coat your fists in flames, these flames mimic the properties of your fists and enhance the power behind your strikes while also burning the target. You can also release the fire while punching to create a burning fist projectile.

[Calcium Cultivation]

|Rare Trait|

Your bones crave milk, nay, they demand it. Every time you consume milk, your bones get a permanent boost to their durability and quality. The higher the quality of milk, the greater the boost to your bones you get. Consuming the same kind of milk decreases its effects exponentially after the first drink and the boost your bones get are relative to the quality of the milk to your bones.

[Great Ass]

|Common Trait|

You have a great ass, with incredible cushioning abilities, you can sit upon practically any surface without discomfort. It also looks and feels very good.

[Hera's Breastmilk]

|Elite Item|

"Hey, it worked for Hercules" A bottle filled to the brim with the Goddess Hera's freshly squeezed breastmilk, when someone consumes the entire bottle, the potential of their body will vastly increase, allowing even a regular human to train to reach superhuman levels of strength and durability. This does not, however, increase your talent or the speed at which you will reach that strength. Restock Timer: 168

I…

Okay. 

Just… okay. 

Much like the tickets, a bottle of milk and, more importantly, a katana materialized from thin air. I had half hoped that Saeko had run away, but she was running straight for me, ready to square up against the monster that glared at us with malevolent intent. Grabbing it, I flung it in her direction, “Saeko!”

She snatched the katana out of thin air and drew the blade just as the hands of the monster lashed out at her. The name of the blade became readily apparent when blood streaked through the air following her slash, severing the hands before she stepped forward and brought the blade down in the same strike she had been practicing earlier. A projected slash of blood raced towards the creature, cutting deep into it, and it screamed a warbling cry of pain and panic, recoiling from Saeko. 

She didn’t question where the katana had come from. Saeko just stepped forward with the determination to murder the monster, and that gave me a split second to grab the bottle of milk and start chugging. 

It tasted good. Really good. And that just made the entire experience that much weirder as I knocked the entire jug back in a second, tossing the glass to the side and licking away my milk mustache. The effect was immediate. I wasn’t sure if it was the milk or the ‘Calcium Cultivation’ trait, or if it was just them working together in perfect harmony, but I could feel my broken arm sliding back into place. 

It didn’t do anything for the bruises or the cut that dripped blood down my face, but even with those injuries, I felt good. Like there had been this… clunk in my body, a place where the pieces didn’t quite fit together, and all of a sudden they just clicked into place. Tensing my legs, I clenched my hands into fists, and fire erupted around them before I broke into a dead sprint towards the monster. 

“S-senp-pai!” The monster protested, but I didn’t care to hear it. Saeko danced with the Rivers of Blood in her hands, slashing out at the creatures' offending hands, clearing the path for me. I leapt into the air, pulling my fist back for a jab, and just as I arrived in the pocket, I threw the punch. 

Fire erupted from my knuckles, racing forward with such force that they punched through the monster’s eye and erupted from the bubbling pulsations that covered its body. The monster screamed in agony as it died, but it was short-lived before the monster itself began to blacken. At first, I thought it was being cooked from the inside out, but when its body began to disintegrate as it died. 

Landing lightly on my feet, the flames died out, and I watched in dull amazement as within seconds, there wasn’t so much as a trace of the monster left. It was entirely gone. If I couldn’t see the busted floors and walls, then I’d doubt that it was ever there in the first place. 

[Exercise a Grade 3 Curse for the first time

Reward: 1x Bronze  Random] 

Saeko stood by my side, similarly dumbfounded, though she hid it better than I did. And I like to think that I summarized both of our thoughts in that moment rather eloquently. 

“What the FUCK?!”

...

This is the anime version of Grimm Tales -- a grand multicross that essentially covers any 'modern day' type settings, though it will be a touch more focused than it's predicesor since I still have like a hundred shows on my watch list for Grimm Tales. But the principle is still mostly the same. As with Grimm Tales, there are several cornerstone settings that all other settings essentially go through, and they filter through that filter. For example, the sorcerers of Kagurabachi, Dandadan, or Chainsaw Man would be made Jujutsu sorcerers or Magi from Fate, where applicable. On the more mundane side of things, we have settings like Hajime no Ippo, Oregairu, Bocchi the Rock, Oshi no Ko, and more.

A list is provided below, but, in a similar vein to Grimm Tales, the other settings are there to flesh out the world. In the background side of things, if there is ever a need for a Japanese diplomat, then I could use Chika Fujiwara's father from Love is War. Likewise, if I do something like the Kengan games from Kengan Ashura, I could have the Shinomiya Group act as a corporate sponsor.

Some settings, like with Highschool of the Dead, their overarching plot won't really come into play to avoid overpowering the crossover with a single setting. Which isn't to say there won't be any zombies at all, just that things wouldn't devolve into a full on apocolypse. Likewise, in the cases of Kagurabachi or Chainsaw Man, they are subject to the Masquerade. Chainsaw Man devils, which would be cursed spirits in the crossover, are unknown to the general public, while the National Devil Extermination Public Safety Commission would be the Japanese answer to the Great Clans of JJK as much as they are to cursed spirits. For Kagurabachi, the Islanders, and the war they started that inadvertently caused the reveal of sorcery to the general public, either didn't happen, or it didn't manage to breach the Masquerade.

On the Chaos Gacha side of things -- I will admit, I've been wanting to try my hand at it. Some might remember Gacha God, which had a much simpler version of the Gacha, but the story ended up petering out for a couple of reasons. One part was plot elements that I started but lost interest in, but another major factor was how I approached the Gacha. I was both too stingy with how often I rolled the Gacha, and I was also a bit too honest with it. There were a lot of times that there was one thing in particular on the list that I wanted to write, but the gacha gods said no, so I worked with what I rolled. That's not to say that I plan on full-on cheating or anything, just that if a roll comes up that obviously breaks the narrative that I'm building towards, I'll do a reroll.

Additionally, the Chaos Gacha has a lot of choices, but in some ways, it's still pretty incomplete. Like Devil Fruits, there are about fifteen out of a hundred on the gacha. Or Demon Slayer breathing styles. Not to mention that there's nothing from MAR. So, on the odd occasion that I want something particular, when I get a dud roll, I'll swap it out with that ability/trait/item that feels like it's an equivalent roll.

Now, onto the story itself -- I'm looking to start a bit low-stakes and steadily build up. Initially, there would be a focus on the boxing aspect while the MC, alongside with Saeko and whatever crew they manage to assemble, start hunting curses as they've been shown another side of the world. As they get brought deeper and deeper into the hidden sides of the world, the more things ramp up with stronger curses, Magi families, a Holy Grail War, etc. All of it strung together with a story that would let me explore the combined setting and how they've changed each other.

For the MC, I have some fun plans for him. Especially with the gacha. But, in the broad strokes, he's going to know some settings better than others. Some, like Hajime no Ippo, he's read cover to cover, while others, like Highschool of the Dead, he will be familiar with but not know much about. Then, in the case of JJK, it is a complete unknown to him. That selective meta-knowledge will mostly depend on what I think would tell an interesting story.

As for some of the words I'm using, here they are:

[SPOILER="World List"]

Fate

Jujutsu Kaisen

Dandadan

Chainsawman

Kagurabachi

Tokyo Ghoul

Kengan Ashura

Tokyo Revengers

Death Note

High School of the Dead

Kakegurui

Kaiji: Ultimate Survivor

Oregairu

Demon Slayer (Epilogue)

Oshi no Ko

Kaguya-Sama: Love is War

Boochi the Rock

My Dress Up Darling

Makeine: Too Many Losing Heroines!

[/SPOILER]

The list is still looking to expand as needed, but I'm not too fussed if I can't fit something in.

And I think that's it. Let me know what you think!