02x27 - Taste of Dad

[bunniefuu]

Just take a look at that, gentlemen.

A pictograph!

But one
of unprecedented magnitude and detail.

Professor, that large figure
shown in profile...

Yes. I'm quite certain
it's that demon we saw earlier.

Then what is that smaller
demon figure facing it, Professor?

My guess would be a child.

I think they're father and son.

And that crowd of people
gathered behind the father figure,

who could they be?

I was just wondering that.

If you examine the faces closely,

you can see an abundance of diversity
in race, gender and age.

From the way their gesturing towards him,
they could be his followers.

Or worshippers.

Perhaps this is a depiction
of them glorifying the father demon.

Like he's some kind of god?

Yes.

Sorry we're stuck
way in the back here, boss.

Want me to clear a path through 'em?
Get us up in front?

No. Here is fine.

Even though you can't hear me,

I want you to listen.

What you and I are about to do

is not just a continuation
of what's come before.

But it's also not a new beginning either.

In fact, this is the conclusion.

So this is how it ends.

Huh?

Starting with your pinkie,
go like this.

One by one.

There.

This is the greatest tool in the world.

Tool?

It can do
what many ordinary tools can do.

And obviously something else.

What else?

It can be a weapon.

It can be a hammer or a blade.
Or even a spear.

Let's try making it into a hammer

Starting with your pinkie, go like this.

Then, one by one, in this order,

fold each finger in toward your palm.

There.

Now let's do it in the opposite order.

Starting with your index finger,
fold them in.

Then close your thumb over them.

Now, what've you got?

Oh, uh...

It's strength, son.

You've got strength in your hand.

You can punch with that strength.

You can pierce with that strength.

It's humanity's oldest and finest weapon.

The fist.

Release the tension
from your folded fingers,

and gently hold them in place
with your thumb.

Don't be worried about your stance.

Let your body tell you
where your fist should be.

I see. You haven't forgotten.

This where it all began.

The first lesson my father gave me.

Hey, boss.

There's only, like, a couple dozen people
between us and the action.

You want me to clear a path?

No. Here is fine.

Don't think about
defending yourself.

Concentrate your weight
on the ball of your forward foot.

Focus only on throwing the punch.

Everything else is a distraction.

Pull all that you are into that fist.

There is no "will it work?"

or "won't it work?"

The thought doesn't even cross your mind.

That is what a test of strength is like!

The sound
of knuckles hitting faces,

it was the loudest and most horrible noise
the two of them had made all night.

[grunts[

Keeping oneself out of danger
while defeating the enemy,

that is the art of fighting.

That is technique.

But to cast off any thought

of protecting the most vital spots
of one's body,

and to instead willfully expose them
to the blade,

that is not a fighting art,
nor a martial art,

but something else entirely.

A test of strength.

A test of masculinity.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

- Huh?
- Huh?

Hey!

- What's going on?
- I can't see.

Who is that?

So it is him.

It really is the Ogre.

What's he doing?

Praying?

Hey. You notice something?

Yeah, it seems like

a lot of people from foreign countries
just showed up.

Ogre.

What a slugfest!

Neither one of them's
giving an inch!

It's a battle between
the strongest guys in the world!

Reminds me of someone.

Going toe-to-toe with Ogre.

Who knew there was
someone fool enough to do that?

Oh, man. I don't believe this.

The kid's in a full-on slugfest
with Yujiro Hanma.

I'm jealous.

Well, y'know, boss,
we could get a little closer.

No. Here is fine.

Right.

They're already at the front.

You can feel it coming.

One way or the other,

when this insane flurry of punches
is finally over,

this fight'll be over too.

The teeming masses,

weak and helpless,

in front of them, shielding them,

stood an Oni.

Behind him,

masses of the weak gathered and huddled.

There was always a great crowd of them.

And always, always threatening the weak,

there were yes, strong soldiers.

That man had made up his mind.

His place was always
to be facing the strong.

There is no justice.

There is no evil.

There is only strength.

Eventually, the leaders
of even the greatest of nations,

perceiving his strength,

were forced to recognize him
as their equal.

They called him Ogre.

More than their equal, in fact.

They cowered before his strength

and sought to appease him
with extraordinary monetary rewards.

The masses, seeing him triumphant
over the powerful nations

that had for so long
driven them to despair,

worshiped him as a god
and loved him as an angel.

The ring separating father
and son from the crowd

had gradually shrunk in size.

The field of energy
from this epic battle had drawn them in.

They wanted to be near it,

to feel it up close.

To engrave it into their minds.

The son's fists felt his father.

The father's fists felt his son.

Again and again, their fists flew,
seeking the most effective angle.

Again and again,
their feet hammered the ground,

searching for greater leverage.

A domestic dispute like no other,

it was captured by news cameras
and cell phones,

and transmitted to living rooms
and computer screens across the nation.

Dad? Are you watching this?

This competition makes me wonder...

In this match

whose victory do I even wish for?

Father...

That should have been me in there!

Whether it was to embrace Baki,

or as a gesture of pride
in his beloved son's efforts,

he opened his fists and his arms
and stretched them wide.

Mm.

Can I see?

Can I hear?

I can feel.

I can definitely feel
my fists hitting my father.

My fists are the only connection
between him and me.

And they're getting numb.

Am I really punching him?

Am I really being punched back?

We finally have this chance
to touch each other.

Seems a shame
to be doing it with our fists.

But what if I punch him
as if it were a hug?

There goes a rib.

Two.

Three, maybe more.

He's amazing.

My dad is amazing.

How many times tonight

have I thought he's amazing?

It's the same.

The same as that night five years ago.

Mandible, fractured

Mental tubercle, fractured.

Mandibular ramus, fractured.

Numerous fissures as well.

Left orbital floor, fractured.

Nasal bone, collapsed.

Maxilla, fractured.

Additional fissures here too.

Damage to front teeth and molars.

Some missing or damaged beyond repair.

Left and right ear drums burst.

Cervical vertebrae sprained on both sides,

more than 30 degrees.

Ribs, six fractures

Bones and joints in both hands
with extensive inflammation.

Bones in both feet
with numerous slight sprains.

Inflammation as well.

Subcutaneous bleeding throughout the body.

The brain and internal organs

showing signs of...

That's enough, son.

Yes, enough.

To throw another punch,
to continue the carnage

that wouldn't be a fight.

That wouldn't be the Great Brute.

Uh... Thank you!

You're incredible!

It was an honor to watch you fight!

Such an honor!

- Thank you!
- Thank you so much!

Thank you!

I had a great time.

Huh?

Ya kicked me, didn't ya?

As I was walking away,

you gave me one last kick
to the side of the face.

Uh-huh.

Hmm.

I see.

That's right.

That's right.

Huh?

Very good. Well done.

Only his fighting spirit
is still unbroken.

I can't bear to watch this.

[Yujiro chuckles[

All right then, son.

Enough. That's enough.

No.

- There's no way.
- Huh?

Is that what I think?

It's...

It's tofu.

The crowd, too,
could see it clearly

The tofu in his palm as he sliced into it

The leeks as he chopped them
on the cutting board.

The Great Brute, Yujiro Hanma,

was cooking his specialty,

miso soup with tofu.

Baki, food's ready.

Get up.

Oh...

Guess it's that time?

And as the crowd watched,

father and son sat down

to the most remarkable midnight snack
ever served.

Huh.

This is all I've got.

It's more than enough, Father.

Cut it out, will you?

Call me "Dad."

They're...

It's like they're...

They're in perfect harmony!

You're okay with doing this here?

Yeah.
It doesn't matter where it is.

Relax. Get comfortable.

Dig in.

Thanks.

That's wrong.

Huh?

I've noticed it before.

You're not holding them properly.

Well, it's not like we're back
at your five-star restaurant.

Yeah, it's good.

Maybe a little too salty.

Hmm?

You wouldn't know
how a proper miso soup should taste.

See for yourself.

Go on.

Don't be dumb.

You know it doesn't taste like anything.

It's just make-believe.

Oh. Is that so?

He flipped the table!

Why, you...

They're gone!

The bowl and table...

They vanished!

- Hey, Dad?
- Huh?

You were just saved.

What the hell are you saying?

That you saved me?

Yeah, well, you're right.

I think I know what it was.

That miso soup was a little too salty.

He acknowledged it!

- It was salty?
- Whoa!

All right, I'll come clean.

I tried to pull a fast one on ya.

I lied.

Ogre lied?!

You noticed
the look of surprise on my face

so you flipped the table and saved me.

The essence of strength is this...

having the strength to impose your will,

and attain your most selfish desires.

You made the Ogre,
the strongest man on Earth,

go stand in the kitchen.

There is no greater act of selfishness.

Right here,

claim the title
of the strongest in the world!

Whoa!

He acknowledged it!

Ogre acknowledged it!

He's admitted that Baki's the strongest!

Baki Hanma's
the strongest in the world!

When all is done...

...it is he whose head is the highest,

the one who is looking down
on his opponent,

that person is the real champion.

Your words, Dad.

It was you looking down on me

before you walked away.

At that moment, I was as good as dead.

The fact is, I lost.

He couldn't hear,

and therefore didn't know he'd been
declared the strongest in the world

He conceded!

The strongest in the world
conceded defeat!

What an amazing finish!

Such were the decisive words

spoken by the son
of the one and only Ogre.

A night of surprises.

The father handing over the title
of world's strongest,

and the son handing over the victory.

We have a winner!

Each had given to the other
the greatest gift they had to offer.

No wonder he's happy.

He's as good as new.

Thus,
the greatest father-son fight in history

ended right there.

THE END

We're hearing now
that it was only an exhibition match.

Are you disappointed that your match
wasn't a true official one?

I did not use my feet.

I did not use my knees.

I did not use my elbows.

I only used these.

By taking the fight directly to Mr. Bolt
and attacking his upper body,

I won the match.

It was a victory.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Whether the match was official or not,

whether that belt Kaiser gave me
is officially recognized or not,

I leave that for others to decide.

Those are things I neither know about

or care about.

Uh, right.

I had to force my kung fu
to comply with the rules of boxing,

and I was still victorious.

That is all.