Sunday 1 December 1998
Zaboru grinned as he stood under the bright studio lights, fully aware that he was now on live television. This was Sasuke—a live broadcast competition focused entirely on athleticism, where participants were challenged to overco a series of brutal obstacle stages using nothing but strength, agility, balance, and endurance. Seeing the set in person stirred sothing deep inside him. In his previous life, Zaboru had loved this show. He used to watch it obsessively, morizing stages and imagining himself running through them. Ironically, in this world, he hadn't even known the show existed until recently.
So when the invitation arrived from the Sasuke production team, asking him to join the live performance as a challenger, there was no hesitation. Zaboru couldn't bring himself to reject it. The concept was simply too fascinating, too nostalgic, and too perfectly aligned with his own love for physical challenges. Standing there now, smiling at the caras and the roaring crowd, Zaboru felt a rare sense of pure excitent—this wasn't business, strategy, or responsibility. This was fun.
And so, inside the Sasuke studio owned by NHK Japan, the atmosphere was already electric. Dozens of participants had gathered, filling the staging area with nervous energy and quiet excitent. Zaboru was far from the only challenger—many well-known Japanese celebrities had also been invited to take part in the live show, ranging from athletes and actors to television personalities. Even so, it was obvious to everyone where the spotlight truly rested. Zaboru was undeniably the main attraction, the centerpiece of the broadcast, and the most famous person in the country at that mont. Caras subtly followed his movents, staff whispered excitedly, and even other participants couldn't help but steal glances in his direction.
Zaboru's family was present as well, seated among the spectators in a reserved section of the audience. They watched quietly, sharing the mont together, but Zaboru made a clear request to the production staff to keep the caras away from them. He didn't want their faces broadcast nationwide or turned into public spectacle. For him, fa was sothing he could shoulder alone—his family deserved privacy, safety, and a normal life away from the relentless public eye.
And then the show officially began. There were around twenty-five participants in total, each one preparing themselves both ntally and physically for the brutal course ahead. Zaboru was deliberately placed as the final challenger of the night, a position reserved for soone expected to leave the strongest impression on both the audience and the viewers at ho. Zaboru didn't mind waiting at all—in fact, he preferred it. Watching the others attempt the course only heightened his excitent.
The course itself was divided into four demanding stages. The first stage was the Ninja Step Stage, a deceptively simple-looking obstacle made up of triple steps followed imdiately by unstable rolling logs that punished even the smallest mistake in balance. The second stage was the Monkey Swing, where participants had to leap from bar to bar, swinging through the air with precise timing and upper-body strength, much like a monkey moving through the trees.
The third stage was the infamous Cliff Hanger. Here, participants had to cling to a narrow ledge using nothing but their grip strength, then jump laterally between cliffs while maintaining control and montum. One slip ant imdiate failure. Finally ca the last and most intimidating obstacle: Wall Running. The wall was no joke—it towered high above the ground, designed to drain whatever strength participants had left and crush their confidence at the very end of the course.
The show allowed a total of roughly three minutes for participants to clear all of these areas. Most of the challengers were trained athletes, and even the celebrities invited were known for their physical conditioning, which made the competition genuinely exciting to watch rather than just a spectacle. By this point, the crowd had grown louder, the tension thicker, and anticipation was reaching its peak—because it was finally Zaboru's turn. Even the host could barely hide his excitent.
"Next challenger!" the host announced dramatically. "He's soone incredibly famous! And yes—he's even slightly more handso than !" The audience burst into laughter and cheers. "Zaboru Renkonan!"
As his na echoed through the studio, Zaboru stepped onto the stage. He was wearing short athletic pants and a black tank top that clearly highlighted his muscular build, the result of years of disciplined training and his Enlightnt Body. Cara flashes erupted instantly. Zaboru gave a relaxed smile, then casually flexed his arms a little—not to show off, but confident and playful enough to send the crowd into another wave of excitent.
The live viewers at ho were absolutely stunned—they had no idea that Zaboru possessed such a lean, powerful, and athletic physique beneath his usual businesswear. The revelation hit especially hard with the female audience, many of whom were left breathless and whispering excitedly among friends and family. Across living rooms and crowded watch parties, the reaction was the sa: gasps, pointed fingers at the screen, and excited chatter. So viewers even reached for their VCRs to record the mont or took instant photos off their TV sets, wanting to preserve the rare image of Japan's most famous developer looking more like a sports icon than a corporate executive.
People were used to seeing Zaboru as a stoic visionary behind ZAGE—a brilliant mind in suits and glasses, always speaking about innovation, creativity, and technology. But here he was now, standing confidently in a black tank top and athletic shorts, his muscle definition catching the glow of the studio lights. It wasn't just surprising—it was thrilling. He looked like soone who could walk off the stage and into an action movie without missing a beat.
Even the host leaned into the mont with perfect codic timing, his grin wide as he faced the cara. "Can Zaboru Renkonan bypass all these trials and beco the next Sasuke!? Let's find out, shall we?!"
The crowd roared, the energy in the studio surged even higher, and Zaboru casually took his stance at the starting platform. His expression was calm but focused—completely in his elent.
Then the countdown started—3... 2... 1—and Zaboru exploded into motion. He surged forward with explosive energy, a blur of movent as he launched himself into the first stage. The triple steps were no match for him; he bounced from one to the next with perfect rhythm, and in one seamless motion, transitioned onto the rolling pins. With flawless balance and lightning reflexes, he cleared the entire first stage in under three seconds.
The host's voice cracked from excitent. "Oh my god! Look at him go!" he shouted, barely able to contain himself as the audience roared.
But Zaboru wasn't slowing down. He imdiately sprinted toward the Monkey Swing, gripping the first bar and launching himself with such speed and fluidity that it almost looked animated. He swung from bar to bar like a trained gymnast, his body twisting and timing each leap with uncanny precision. His legs tucked, his form controlled, and the motion perfectly tid—it was a showcase of upper-body strength and aerial control.
The audience gasped. The host erupted again, this ti laughing mid-comntary: "OH MY GOD! Look at that swing! Is it because he's the developer of Donkey Kong that he's this good at swinging?! Soone get this man a banana!"
Even the production crew looked amazed, their caras struggling to keep up. In that mont, it didn't matter that he was a God Of Video gas or not—Zaboru looked like a born athlete, like soone built for this stage. And he was only just getting started.
Zaboru continued onto the next set of obstacles—the dreaded Cliff Hanger, one of the most iconic and punishing stages in all of Sasuke history. This challenge was designed to break even the most elite athletes, a relentless test of grip endurance, upper-body power, and complete mastery of body control. But if there was any stage that played directly to Zaboru's strengths, it was this one.
He approached the starting ledge calmly, his expression unchanged, his breathing steady. Then, with calculated motion, he leapt and latched onto the first ledge. His fingers gripped the narrow bar effortlessly, his arms absorbing the shock with chanical precision. Slowly but surely, he began moving sideways, each shift of his weight as clean and graceful as a practiced dancer.
His Enlightennt Body was doing more than just enhancing his strength—it gave him unnatural levels of control and stamina. Even the lateral jumps between cliffs, notorious for making contestants slip, looked easy under his hands. Zaboru didn't just perform the jumps—he floated between the gaps, catching the far ledges with unwavering stability.
The host was losing it. "Is this even a challenge for him anymore?!" he shouted, voice filled with awe and disbelief. He threw his hands into the air, pacing back and forth as the crowd scread louder than ever.
And through it all, Zaboru barely looked strained. Not a hint of panic or overexertion showed on his face. Every move was smooth, calculated, and eerily quiet—as if gravity had simply decided not to apply to him. It was the kind of performance that turned a man into myth.
Then Zaboru approached the final stage—the infamous Wall Run. It was the last and tallest obstacle in the entire course, a vertical wall designed to exhaust whatever stamina the participants had left. But Zaboru showed no signs of fatigue. With sharp focus, he asured the height for a mont, took a few steps back, then sprinted forward with blinding speed.
With a powerful leap, he planted his foot on the lower panel and used his montum to ascend the wall like it was nothing. His hand shot up, grabbing the top ledge with a grip like iron. In one clean, fluid motion, he pulled himself up and over, planting both feet firmly at the summit. The crowd erupted.
Without even pausing to catch his breath, he stepped forward and slapped the finish button, triggering a burst of confetti and lights. The tir stopped at 45.3 seconds—shattering the previous record by over 15 seconds.
"I CAN'T believe it! Zaboru Renkonan just broke the record—the legendary one-minute mark—absolutely impressive!" the host scread, practically jumping out of his seat.
Zaboru grinned widely as the crowd chanted his na. He raised his fists high, then playfully flexed his muscles again, striking a victorious pose for the caras. His body was glistening slightly from the effort, but he looked more energized than tired. It wasn't just a win—it was domination.
As the audience cald slightly, the host jogged onto the course with a wide grin and a mic in hand. He motioned for the cara to zoom in, then turned to face the champion of the night.
"Zaboru-san!" he said, slightly breathless from excitent, "You didn't just beat the course—you absolutely crushed the record! How do you feel right now?"
Zaboru, still grinning and wiping a bit of sweat from his brow, leaned into the mic. "It feels great!" he said, his voice brimming with genuine joy. "This show ant a lot to —I used to love watching it back then. So winning today really ans a lot, not just as a fan, but as soone who always dread of doing this." He chuckled lightly, then added with a grin, "Also... this was a great warm-up before I fight the Shocker."
The host staggered back in mock disbelief and shouted in exaggerated fashion, "NANI!? SHOKKĀ!?"—dragging out the syllables with theatrical flair as the crowd burst into laughter.
Zaboru chuckled, clearly enjoying the mont. Then, with perfect timing, he took a deliberate step back, planted his feet firmly, and struck a commanding pose. "Yes," he declared, his voice deepening for dramatic effect, "I am Kan Rider."
The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter as Zaboru, in full theatrical flair, shouted, "Henshin!" and struck the iconic transformation pose from Kan Rider Black RX, his arms slicing through the air with perfect timing.
Caras flashed, fans scread, and the host fell to his knees, clutching his chest in mock defeat. "This man is too powerful!" he declared to the audience.
It was the perfect ending to a legendary performance.
And then, viewers across Japan were absolutely glued to their television sets. The energy from the studio had translated perfectly through the broadcast, and by the ti the credits began rolling, viewership had skyrocketed to unprecedented levels. The ratings spiked by an insane margin, with broadcasters reporting one of the highest peak audiences of the year for any non-drama TV event. It beca clear to everyone in the industry: if Zaboru appeared on your ga show, it was an instant guarantee of success. The guy just has an insane amount of charm.
Nearly every television network in Japan began drafting invitations, hoping to secure Zaboru as a guest or featured contestant. However, getting him to say yes was a challenge in itself. Zaboru was famously elusive when it ca to public appearances—he often ignored or declined most invitations, prioritizing his work, his creative vision, and his selective passion projects.
But when it ca to shows like Sasuke—the ones that resonated deeply with him from his past life—Zaboru made exceptions. He was satisfied, even radiant, after the experience. The exhilaration of doing sothing he loved live on stage, feeling the energy of the crowd, and tackling physical challenges with raw enthusiasm—it reignited sothing pure inside him. Once in a while its fine to having blast like this
To be continue
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