The sound of flesh meeting flesh reverberated through the main atrium of the HWA Academy’s training hall, the rhythmic thud of feet pivoting on the mat punctuated by the occasional grunt of exertion. Sean Parker and Red Dragon were locked in a furious exchange in the center of the main training ring, both men moving with the grace and precision that spoke of years of disciplined training as student and sensei. With Sean feeling refocused and Red Dragon’s match against Butch Parker coming up at Road to Ruin, the two took advantage of a quiet evening in the academy to spar.

Sean’s brow was slick with sweat, but his focus was unyielding as he delivered a rapid series of front kicks at Red Dragon’s midsection. Each kick was like a blur, lightning fast, punctuated with loud call-outs. But Red Dragon anticipated Sean’s moves, sidestepping the first kick with minimal effort before deflecting the others with seamless parries with the outside of his forearms. Then, without warning, Red Dragon closed the distance with his own quickfire move, a shuffle step, unleashing left reverse punch counterattack at Sean’s ribs. He barely had time to react, twisting his torso at the last second, absorbing the blow with his abs, ignoring the pain and retaliating with a spinning roundhouse kick. Sean’s foot sliced through the air like a katana but Red Dragon ducked under it with another fluid movement, eyes watching his student’s foot glide past his face as if it were in slow-motion. Red Dragon pivoted his own body around, sweeping his leg around in a three hundred and sixty-degree motion.

Sean felt his feet slip out from under him as Red Dragon’s leg swept through his own. He hit the mat but immediately kipped back up to his feet, not missing a beat, no time to dwell on the takedown. With a sharp exhale, Sean surged forward, launching another combination of strikes. He fired off two rapid jabs followed by a spinning back fist.

Red Dragon, however, was able to read his student like a book, picking up on the most subtle of hand and feet movements. He parried the jabs with precision, and, as the spinning back fist came toward him, he turned on his back foot, allowing the blow to graze past his ear harmlessly. The moment Sean's momentum carried him past, Red Dragon seized the opening, hooking his arm around Sean's outstretched arm in a Kote Gaeshi arm lock. However, he didn’t hold it on for long, releasing it almost instantly and allowing him to regain his stance.

The two continued their intense sparring session, keeping up the same level of intensity and fervor they had maintained since Sean was a teenager. Sean’s footwork was relentless, constantly shifting angles to keep his sensei guessing, while Red Dragon’s counters were performed with an almost surgical level of precision. A back kick was met with a rising knee block followed by a swift elbow strike that forced Sean to duck low. He responded with a low sweep kick, which Red Dragon leaped over effortlessly, delivering a downward Tetsui Uchi hammerfist straight into the canvas as Sean rolled away to safety.

The two men circled each other, their chests heaving, eyes locked, neither showed any signs of a willingness to yield or signs of fatigue. Sean sensed an opportunity and launched himself towards Red Dragon, his leg coming up into a Tobi Hiza Geri flying knee strike. Red Dragon anticipated the move though, shifting to the side in a fluid motion that seemed effortless, ready to catch Sean mid-air as he had done so many times before. But this time, Sean had anticipated the counter. Knowing the flying knee would make Red Dragon move to the side.

At the last possible moment, he adjusted his trajectory mid-flight, twisting his body and launching a spinning hook kick towards his Sensei’s head. For the first time, Sean saw a flutter of surprise in Red Dragon’s eyes as the kick came in. He only managed to partially block the strike with a raised arm but the impact was enough to knock him off balance, sending him stumbling back a step. As Sean landed, his feet barely touched the mat before he immediately followed up with a lightning-fast reverse punch at the open target of Red Dragon’s chest.

Red Dragon, still recovering from being knocked off balance by Sean’s kick, had no time to mount a proper defense. The punch struck home with a solid thud, driving him back another step. For a split second, the room was still, both men frozen, save for their heaving chests.

Then Red Dragon smiled, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts. He straightened, the tension in his body easing as he acknowledged the blow.

(Red Dragon): Well done, Sora no Ansatsusha. You’re getting back to your old self.

Sean, still catching his breath, managed a grin of his own.

(Sean): Thank you, Sensei. Kokoro no Michi has been invaluable. I’m honored you’ve been teaching me it. Ever since that first session, I’ve felt… different… calmer… more centered.

Red Dragon nodded in approval.

(Red Dragon): You’ve been a model student, Sean-kun. Even when you’ve strayed from the path, you’ve always found your way back to it. That is why I knew you were ready for Kokoro no Michi.

(Sean): Thank you, Sensei.

The two bowed to each other, the respect between them deepened further. Red Dragon picked up his towel from atop one of the turnbuckles, mopping his face with it as he began to step through the ropes, exiting the ring. Sean leaned on the top rope, taking a long drink from a bottle of water.

(Sean): You sure you don’t want to join me for round two, Sensei?

Another smile crossed Red Dragon’s face before he shook his head, holding up a hand towards Sean.

(Red Dragon): No, thank you, Sean-kun. We’ll have round two another time. I promised Hans-san I would join him for an interview with the young intern you spoke with before.

A look of surprise crossed Sean’s face.

(Sean): You? Sensei Kiriyama? The Great Red Dragon? Doing an interview with Roderick Sterling? I’ll definitely be checking that out later.

A light chuckle could be heard from Red Dragon as he placed his towel around his neck, waving a hand to Sean.

(Red Dragon): Jā ne, Sean-kun.

Sean reciprocated Red Dragon’s wave with one of his own.

(Sean): Jā ne, Sensei.

Sean watched Red Dragon walk off towards the locker room area and started to run the ropes, practicing a series of leapfrogs, rolls and backflips before he spied an encroaching camera crew. A wry smirk crossed the Sky Assassin’s face as he caught them out of the corner of his eye. Slowing down his momentum, he steadily came to a halt, leaning over and placing his elbows on the top turnbuckle, catching his breath. He loosened the velcro straps on his sparring mitts before turning to look down at the camera crew, now standing at ringside of the main training ring.

(Sean): I’m glad to see you’re taking this match seriously, Lunatik. So many supposed legendary names of this company thought they could simply rock up with nothing but they’re past accomplishments as their ammunition. But what happened? They up and vanished like a fart in the wind. Has-Beens like CM Punk… Never-Was half-wits like Bryan Deas, even greats like Talon Wilkinson. They all thought they could walk through…

Sean motioned to the double-doors of the Academy entrance causing the camera to briefly follow before diverting its focus back onto him.

(Sean): … those doors and get by on their names and where are they now?

Sean held his hands out in a mock-questioning manner.

(Sean): So, yeah, I was watching. I watched your little jiu-jitsu session. I watched you roll around and I have to say, I am impressed. But if you think practicing arm-bars, kimuras and triangles is going to even remotely prepare you for what’s coming your way in Seattle. It’s admirable, it’s smart but ultimately… It's foolhardy, Lunatik. Don’t get me wrong, by all means, expand your repertoire. Broaden your horizons because that’s the bare minimum you’ll have to do to not only survive in this…

Sean emphatically pointed downwards.

(Sean): … era of HWA… but to survive me. See, I’m not sure you’re familiar with what’s happened in the last eighteen months here in HWA but Sean Parker is no stranger to getting a little nuts. Whether it’s hitting a shooting star press from a rising steel cage forty feet in the air, beating the shit out of CM Punk, putting myself through concussion after concussion, I think it’s safe to say I’m no stranger to embracing lunacy, my friend.

But if I were you, I’d worry a little more about what’s going to happen when we’re standing across the ring from each other next week instead of where my head’s at. Ring Master wasn’t the first time I’ve suffered heartache inside the ring, it’s not the first time I’ve suffered a soul-crushing setback and it sure as shit probably won’t be the last but look at me, Lunatik…

Sean leaned forward over the top rope so he was almost face-to-lens with the camera, pointing his extended index finger towards himself.

(Sean): … Does this look like a guy who is suffering from self-doubt? Do I look like a man lacking confidence? Hmm? Do I look like a man riding a wave of depression? No, you’re looking at a man who constantly evolves himself. Win, lose or draw, I always go back to the drawing board. And you know, it's all well and good getting yourself an American Dragon to help teach you how to throw a punch.

But personally, as I'm sure you'll have seen there, I just happen to have a dragon of my own at my back. A Red Dragon. Only this Dragon wasn't dragged out of his lair on the promise of a cleared pay-check to give a glorified seminar. No. My dragon has nurtured me for over twenty years like I was one of his own. My dragon taught me how to breathe fire, how to scratch, bite and claw. My dragon taught me how to fly… how to make anyone who crosses me wish they'd never set foot in my sky. See, Lunatik… I am Sora no Ansatsusha![i/] The Sky Assassin. When I take flight, bad things happen to those down below. Nobody can do what I can do, because nobody’s lungs can withstand the heights I can go to when I fly. By the time you see me coming, it's too late. Death from above. And you’ll all soon become familiar with this. Kōun o inorimasu, Lunatik.

Sean turned his back on the camera, sliding out of the main training ring and making his way towards the locker room as the scene faded to black.