Jin-ho slowly opened his eyes.
He had slept much longer than expected.
The room was dark.
Night had already arrived.
He sat up, grabbed his phone, then turned on his PC.
7:25 PM.
He stared at the time for a moment before deciding to order food.
Fried chicken.
Half-and-half.
One side original, one side spicy.
Then he added tteokbokki.
As for drinks…
Water was enough.
After placing the order, he leaned back and started browsing the internet.
Mostly Tekken content.
Guides.
Match analysis.
Combo videos.
Tournament highlights.
Anything useful.
Time passed while videos played one after another.
Eventually, boredom crept in.
Without thinking much, he opened Tekken 7.
He placed his arcade stick on his lap and entered Practice Mode.
But this time…
He picked Bryan.
Not Jin.
Why?
No particular reason.
He just felt like it.
Bryan had always been one of his secondary characters anyway.
He started doing combos from memory.
But after a few attempts, he frowned.
Outdated.
Very outdated.
The routes he remembered were old.
There were already stronger conversions, better wall carry, and more optimized damage routes now.
Jin-ho immediately alt-tabbed.
Search:
Bryan combo guide.
He watched carefully.
Comparing routes.
Remembering inputs.
Testing them one by one.
Then—
Ding dong.
The doorbell rang.
Jin-ho paused the video and stood up.
He walked toward the door and opened it.
His food had arrived.
After paying, he took the bags and headed straight back to his room.
Disposable chopsticks were already included.
Convenient.
He carefully set the food beside his setup and started eating while continuing the video.
He used chopsticks instead of his hands.
Less mess.
Safer for his equipment too.
While eating, his thoughts slowly drifted elsewhere.
Streaming.
Should he continue tomorrow?
Or not?
His first stream had gone well.
Better than expected, actually.
But after thinking about it…
It felt distracting.
Streaming meant talking.
Reading chat.
Entertaining people.
Dividing focus.
And right now…
His priority wasn’t entertainment.
It was improvement.
“I should go back to the arcade.”
He muttered quietly.
Online matches and offline matches felt different.
Very different.
At the arcade, people stood behind you.
Watched you.
Judged you.
Applied pressure without saying anything.
That environment mattered.
The stream viewers never really counted for him.
Not in the same way.
Watching through a screen and standing behind a player were completely different feelings.
Jin-ho took another bite before coming to a decision.
He would stop streaming for now after tomorrow.
At least until after the local tournament.
This period would be for one thing only:
Practice.
Play matches.
Play more matches.
And then play even more matches.
There was no shortcut.
No hidden method.
No miracle.
To reach the top, he had to grind.
Again and again.
Because the higher his expectations became…
The harder failure would hit.
Especially in tournaments.
He ate while lost in those thoughts.
But first, he needed to finish dinner.
Jin-ho ate quickly.
Within only a few minutes, the fried chicken and tteokbokki were already gone.
He wiped his mouth with the disposable napkin that came with the order and tossed it back into the plastic bag.
After cleaning up, he returned to his desk.
The monitor still displayed Bryan in Practice Mode.
Jin-ho leaned back slightly and remembered what he had heard while watching guides earlier.
Bryan’s strongest weapon wasn’t his combos.
It was Taunt.
When timed perfectly, Taunt could lead into a Jet Upper.
Simple to explain.
Absolute nightmare to execute.
Especially in a real match.
You couldn’t just throw it out randomly.
First, you had to make your opponent respect your pressure.
Force hesitation.
Condition them.
Only then could you attempt it.
And among Bryan’s moves, Jin-ho personally liked one the most.
Hatchet Kick.
QCB 3.
Good range.
Huge frame advantage.
Guaranteed follow-ups on counter hit.
A move that made opponents miserable.
Honestly…
He even wished Jin had something like it.
Jin-ho cracked his fingers before returning his attention to the screen.
For now, he wasn’t aiming for Taunt Jet Upper yet.
Not immediately.
He started small.
Ten frame follow-ups.
Simple moves.
1,4.
2,3.
Just to understand the timing first.
At the beginning, his inputs were terrible.
Too early.
Too late.
Too slow.
Miss.
Miss.
Miss.
Again and again.
Taunt.
Attack.
Taunt.
Attack.
Failure after failure.
Still, Jin-ho stayed patient.
Little by little, his timing improved.
After becoming comfortable, he moved to the next step.
Taunt into Back 4.
One of Bryan’s hardest techniques.
Only below Taunt Jet Upper itself.
He switched the practice settings.
CPU: Guard All.
Stage: Arena.
Position: At wall.
Everything prepared.
His current button binds only had shortcuts for 1+2 and 3+4.
Taunt itself required 1+3+4 pressed together.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
Even inputting it repeatedly felt awkward.
Still…
Jin-ho kept grinding.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The sound of Bryan’s attacks echoed endlessly throughout the room.
Most people would have gotten irritated.
Jin-ho didn’t care.
His eyes stayed locked on the screen.
Focused.
His goal was simple.
Ten successful Taunt Back 4s in a row.
One hour later…
Success.
Jin-ho leaned back and let out a long sigh of relief.
Finally.
Ten straight.
No mistakes.
He stared at the screen for a moment.
Then looked at Bryan.
Then at his own hands.
The next challenge remained.
Taunt Jet Upper.
Even he wasn’t sure if he could do it.
His wrist would probably suffer tonight.
So he lowered his expectations.
Just one.
One successful attempt.
That was enough.
Jin-ho adjusted his grip on the arcade stick.
Exhaled slowly.
Steeled himself.
Then started.
Taunt.
Miss.
Taunt.
Miss.
Taunt.
Too slow.
One frame late.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Time passed.
Still nothing.
But he never stopped.
Because somewhere in his mind, a thought kept repeating itself:
If the best players can do it…
Then eventually, so can I.
After a while, he succeeded.
He managed to input Taunt into Jet Upper.
The move connected cleanly.
Jin-ho exhaled and smiled faintly.
It was not something he could reliably do in an actual match yet, but being able to execute it at all was already progress.
He rested his left hand, rolling his wrist slightly to relieve the strain.
Repeating precise inputs for long periods was never good for his wrist.
He picked up his phone.
A message notification appeared.
It was from iKARi.
He was currently streaming and had sent a request for a match.
Jin-ho accepted.
Shortly after, iKARi sent him the lobby details and password for Tekken 7 online.
When Jin-ho entered the room, only the two of them were present.
On stream, a viewer asked iKARi who he had invited.
“He’s a strong Jin player I recently met,” iKARi replied casually.
iKARi locked in Kazuya, customized with a distinct outfit.
Jin-ho chose Bryan.
“Oh, Bryan?” iKARi said, slightly surprised, expecting Jin instead.
He did not dwell on it.
Jin-ho took a slow breath, rolling his fingers over the arcade stick.
In his mind, he rehearsed timing and spacing, visualizing sequences before the round even started.
The stage loaded in: Jungle Outpost.
A balcony-break stage.
The match began.
Jin-ho initiated with a quick down poke to test distance, then immediately backdashed.
iKARi stepped forward and threw an Electric.
Blocked.
He attempted another Electric.
Jin-ho interrupted with a quick down jab, breaking the rhythm.
He dashed in immediately.
iKARi anticipated a low and crouched.
Instead, Jin-ho used Down Forward 1.
It connected.
He followed with another Down Forward 1, confirming the hit.
The string completed cleanly, shaving off a solid portion of iKARi’s health bar.
Jin-ho reset with a simple Down 2.
Blocked.
Both players disengaged slightly, creating space again.
The pace of the match tightened as the neutral game resumed.
Jin-ho dashed forward.
A single jab landed.
+1 frame advantage.
iKARi responded with a side step.
Jin-ho immediately checked the movement with a hatchet kick.
Then another.
And another.
All three connected.
iKARi tried to interrupt with a down jab.
But Jin-ho was already one step ahead.
He low parried it cleanly.
A screw followed, extending into a full combo.
Bryan’s wall carry brought iKARi straight to the corner.
Jin-ho completed the sequence:
Down Forward 2, 1 into Down Back 1+2.
Clean ender.
After a few seconds.
First round secured.
The match intensified.
Both players began treating every exchange seriously.
They circled each other, testing spacing and reactions, trying to force a mistake or condition a response.
Jin-ho did not hesitate to throw hatchet kicks at close range, even knowing they were launch punishable against Kazuya’s Twin Pistons.
At times, he seemed willing to risk getting launched just to make iKARi respect the low option.
Occasionally, he used QCB 4 to steal momentum, or mixed in QCB 2, 4 into guaranteed follow-ups when the opponent ducked.
Near the wall, the situation became even more dangerous.
One wrong guess could lead to QCF 1+2, a move that can wall bounce, and a full conversion into massive damage.
Because of that, iKARi started adjusting.
He preferred taking the low poke over risking a launch.
Or he attempted to flip the momentum entirely by going on the offensive instead of defending.
He wavedashed in.
Then threw an electric.
Jin-ho was ready.
He crouch dashed under the high recovery timing and launched him immediately.
A precise punish.
Electrics recover quickly, so the timing had to be near perfect.
Even iKARi looked stunned.
He leaned back slightly, staring at the screen in disbelief.
“Wait… how did he punish that?” You are reading on g.com, the official source.
He called out to his chat, pointing at the monitor.
“Did you see that?
How can he punish that?”
The chat reacted instantly, impressed by what Jin-ho had just done.
iKARi’s character was now left with only a sliver of health.
Jin-ho dashed forward and immediately performed a taunt.
He hit iKARi cleanly, then followed with 1, 4.
Round secured.
It was the first time he had used Taunt in an actual match.
Even he wasn’t fully sure it would work.
But it did.
If iKARi had reacted even slightly differently, it could have been a Electric or even a Rage Art reversal.
Still, the gamble paid off.
The match continued, and until Jin-ho closed out the first set.
iKARi immediately requested a rematch.
No hesitation.
They went straight back in.
Both players adjusted, trading small pokes and movement rather than committing to big risks.
Jin-ho kept throwing out Hatchet Kicks despite the risk.
Twice already, he had been launched and punished for it.
But he still used them.
Now he was in Rage.
And immediately shifted gears.
Jin-ho threw another Hatchet Kick.
This time, iKARi didn’t duck.
The attack landed cleanly.
He hesitated.
Bryan in Rage was terrifying, and after getting hit by so many lows, iKARi was worried Jin-ho might suddenly throw out a Soccer Kick instead.
Jin-ho’s Bryan dashed forward aggressively.
iKARi answered with Down Back 4.
Blocked.
Punished.
Not letting the momentum die, Jin-ho immediately grabbed iKARi while his back was against the wall.
iKARi reacted fast and broke the throw.
But there was a problem.
The sides had switched.
Now Jin-ho was the one trapped at the wall.
After that, iKARi instantly went for an Electric.
He expected Jin-ho to panic and jab.
Instead, with his back against the wall, Jin-ho made a ridiculous decision.
Snake Edge.
Down Forward 3.
The Electric whiffed.
And iKARi got launched.
Jin-ho immediately converted into a combo, carrying him all the way to the balcony and taking a massive chunk of health.
He continued the juggle, then shattered the balcony.
The floor collapsed beneath them.
The stage transitioned into a lower area.
iKARi still hadn’t recovered.
Jin-ho activated Rage Drive.
Bryan spiked him on the floor.
After that.
QCF 1+2.
The final hit connected.
Round over.
Back in his room, Jin-ho smiled.
That ridiculous gamble had actually worked.
The throw earlier had not been random.
He had intentionally used it to switch sides and put himself at a disadvantage.
Or at least, what looked like a disadvantage.
He made a bet.
After switching positions, he predicted iKARi would immediately throw out an Electric.
And he did.
So Jin-ho answered with Snake Edge.
On the other side, iKARi stared blankly at the defeat screen.
He just sat there for a moment.
Confused.
How did he lose that?
He had such a huge advantage.
His chat immediately started laughing at him for fumbling the round.
Messages flooded the stream.
“No way.”
“How did you throw that?”
“Bro got downloaded.”
iKARi narrowed his eyes.
Was that intentional?
Did Jin-ho really plan all of that?
He could not tell.
All he knew was that he had lost.
Still, he shook it off and queued up again.
Back in the lobby, Jin-ho waited quietly.
A few moments later, the next set started.
This time, things went differently.
Jin-ho kept losing.
Again.
And again.
But it was not because he was playing poorly.
Nor was he throwing matches on purpose.
He was experimenting.
He wanted to learn how to use Taunt in actual matches.
Real pressure.
Real timing.
Real consequences.
So instead of treating the sets as matches he needed to win, he treated them as practice.
Testing where he should use Taunt.
When he should use it.
Why he should use it.
At one point, he landed a Taunt and immediately tried to follow it with Back 4.
Missed timing.
Another attempt.
Dash into Taunt.
Gets launched by an Electric.
Another attempt.
Taunt into Snake Edge.
Somehow it worked.
Once.
Never again.
But every failed attempt taught him something.
The more he lost, the more he understood.
Taunt was not simply execution.
It was timing.
Pressure.
Conditioning.
Reading the opponent.
For Jin-ho, these sets had become practical application.
Meanwhile, iKARi grew more confused.
He kept winning.
Yet Jin-ho’s playstyle had noticeably changed.
He started taunting.
A lot.
Way more than before.
Most of them failed because iKARi’s keep-out Electrics shut down the approach.
Some landed.
Most did not.
Thankfully, at least from iKARi’s perspective, Jin-ho never landed Taunt Jet Upper.
He kept missing the timing.
The matches continued.
Set after set.
But as time passed, iKARi noticed something unsettling.
Jin-ho’s Taunts were becoming cleaner.
More deliberate.
More precise.
He still could not execute Taunt Jet Upper.
That was simply too difficult to perform.
Especially in a real match.
But he was getting closer.
Closer with every game.
Eventually, the session ended.
Final score:
6–15.
Jin-ho did not mind the result at all.
If iKARi had not stopped, he probably would have kept playing.
Thirty sets.
Maybe more.