"I did some digging on the Zanchi Group these past few days. Seems they really did hire a registered Kengan fighter. But how could a low-tier yakuza group like them afford the appearance fee?"
"There's a storm brewing in the underworld lately…"
Gō Kazemizu licked her lips in excitement and waved to the girl standing by the roadside.
"Tonight's gonna be fun. Don't worry—Karura and I will protect you."
"Come on, Arisa! Be bold!"
"..."
Seeing that Arisa remained silent—apparently with no intention of joining them—both Kazemizu and Karura sighed in disappointment.
But thinking about it, it made sense. Unlike the two of them, born into the Gō Clan, Arisa was just an ordinary girl. Words like yakuza and underground fighting were enough to make anyone tremble.
"If you really don't want to go, you don't have to force yourself," Karura said gently, leaning against the car window. "We'll message you the results later"
Before she could finish, Arisa suddenly raised both arms and cheered.
"Woo-hoo!"
She bolted into the car, thanked the two warmly, and sat down, eyes sparkling with a thrill that couldn't be contained.
"..."
That scene left both Kazemizu and Karura completely dumbfounded.
Normally, Arisa should've been anxious—hesitant, fearful even—before mustering her courage to get in. That's how the scene should've gone.
But instead, she jumped in yelling "Woo-hoo!" like a kid at a festival?!
"Arisa," Karura asked, bewildered, "you do know where we're going, right? Aren't you… scared?"
"Not at all!" Arisa rested her chin on her hand and sighed. "I mean, yeah, I'm worried about my big brother, but scared? Nah. My luck's always been great—nothing to worry about!"
Karura blinked, even more confused.
From what she knew, the Shiraki siblings—Shiraki Sho and Sakurai Arisa—hadn't exactly lived blessed lives.
Their parents were gone. The dojo went bankrupt. Shiraki was bedridden for months. Loan sharks hounded them. Yakuza were after their land… A series of misfortunes stacked one after another.
And yet she said she had good luck?
"For example"
Arisa started counting on her fingers, recalling one thing after another.
"I got adopted, met my grandpa and my big brother. When I wanted to drop out of school to pay for his treatment, someone showed up to offer a loan. When we were about to lose our home, my brother recovered from his illness."
"And now—just when I was worried about him, you two came to pick me up!"
Arisa clenched her fists and declared with confidence, "See? I'm super lucky!"
"..."
Kazemizu and Karura exchanged a glance through the rear-view mirror.
The Gō Clan were assassins by trade; their sense of morality and worldview were far removed from normal people's.
But even from their perspective, Arisa's thought process seemed… off.
Or maybe, they thought, this is what the bloodline of a fighter looks like—a natural-born hint of madness.
The car sped toward the outskirts.
City lights faded away, swallowed by darkness—like crossing from the surface world into the underworld.
Their destination: an underground casino in an abandoned resort.
From outside, it looked derelict, forgotten by time. But beyond its rusted gates stood a half-finished building—scaffolding still in place, windows missing—yet electricity hummed within.
The car pulled up in front of the ruins.
Arisa, Karura, and Kazemizu stepped out, scanning the surroundings.
The place was buzzing.
Not only black yakuza sedans but also spray-painted off-roaders and motorcycles lined the lot—each screaming delinquent flair.
Inside the ruined building, the air grew hotter, thicker with noise and chaos.
Slot machines, mahjong tables, roulette, poker, blackjack
Illegal gambling dens of every kind filled the dim hall, packed with gangsters, punks, and other scum of the city.
The air stank of cigarettes and cheap cologne.
Arisa swallowed hard. "So tonight, my brother's fighting in a Kengan match…"
"Not quite," Karura corrected her. "Your brother's fighting a registered Kengan fighter—but in an underground bout, not an official Kengan match."
"What's the difference?"
"A big one. Even underground fighting has layers—and the Kengan Association sits at the top of the pyramid."
As the great-granddaughter of the current Gō Clan leader—who had long ties to the Kengan Association—Karura had attended many matches herself.
"For instance, the audience," she explained. "Real Kengan matches are private events—full of investors, CEOs, and politicians. Bets go in the tens of millions."
She yawned. "And most of all… the atmosphere. The real Kengan stage burns with a kind of fervor you can't fake."
"In other words," Karura smirked, "even if a registered fighter's here, this whole thing's still a counterfeit."
Arisa nodded, vaguely understanding.
It was like comparing a street thug to an Olympic champion—same tools, completely different worlds.
As she pondered that, Arisa kept looking around, hoping to spot her brother first.
But then she bumped into someone
No, rather, someone blocked her path on purpose.
A scar-faced thug in a loud Hawaiian shirt and slicked-back hair reeking of alcohol stood in their way.
He'd overheard Arisa and Karura's earlier conversation, and having just lost two hundred thousand yen at the tables, he was in no mood for restraint.
"Oi, who let you brats mouth off about Kengan around here? Wanna take a swim in Tokyo Bay?"
His beady eyes slid toward Arisa's uniform. "Or maybe you're some cosplay call-girls sent for the big shots, huh? Gotta say—you're easy on the eyes…"
He reached out toward her
But before his hand could touch, something icy pressed beneath his chin.
A dagger. Small, razor-sharp, held in Gō Kazemizu's steady grip.
"Our family keeps its promises," she said calmly. "We said we'd protect Arisa—and that includes her mental health."
Her black-and-white eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Besides… you're just a fake tough guy. Even your threats are counterfeit."
The thug's pride snapped. "A toy knife? You think you can threaten a yakuza with that?!"
He swung his fist.
Kazemizu was ready to strike back—but before she could, a large hand appeared beside her, gripping the thug's wrist and twisting it down.
"Gah!"
The man screamed in pain, forced to his knees.
The three girls turned
and saw Shiraki Sho.
The thug, enraged, tried one last move—pulling a hidden knife from his waistband and thrusting it forward.
But Shiraki simply stepped in, twisted his wrist backward until it snapped, then released and drove a short hook into his stomach.
"Ugh!"
The man collapsed instantly, unconscious, vomiting on the spot.
Kazemizu's eyes gleamed in admiration.
Compared to three days ago, Shiraki's movements were sharper, smoother—even his breathing flowed in rhythm.
To a trained observer, it was beautiful.
Kazemizu flipped her dagger and sheathed it with a grin.
"Yo, Shiraki!"
"..."
Shiraki glanced at her, then at Arisa and Karura behind her. His eyes lingered briefly before he nodded.
"Yo. Evening."
"...Huh?" Kazemizu froze.
She'd prepared a dozen excuses—after all, bringing his little sister to a yakuza den wasn't exactly defensible.
Yet he didn't scold her. He didn't even seem mad.
The truth was—he was mad, but he'd already reasoned it through.
It surprised him that the Gō Clan girls had tracked him down, and even more that they'd brought Arisa along.
But on second thought, she was safer with them than sitting alone at home.
So… he decided to stop worrying about it.
He ruffled Arisa's hair gently. "It's messy here. Be good, and stay close."
"Okay!"
The two Gō girls looked at each other, both thinking the same thing:
These siblings' adaptability levels are downright terrifying.
"..."
Arisa glanced at the unconscious thug on the floor, uneasy. "Brother… we're not causing you trouble, are we?"
"You mean hitting that guy?"
Shiraki raised an eyebrow, waving it off with a smile. "Not at all. Relax."
Just then, the Zanchi Group's underboss approached, drawn by the commotion.
Before he could speak, Shiraki slung an arm around his shoulder like they were old friends.
"They should be thanking me!"
Ignoring the pulsing vein on the man's forehead, Shiraki laughed. "After all, violence isn't the yakuza's monopoly. I just saved you a world of trouble, didn't I, Inoue?"
The underboss twitched, trying to contain his fury—until he noticed something.
The girl's waistline—Kazemizu's. Beneath her clothes, the distinct outline of a hidden firearm.
A gun?
No way…
Kazemizu caught his look and smiled. "It's real."
The man's disbelief melted into cold sweat.
What the hell are these people…?!
The air turned heavy.
Before the underboss could even move, another wave of noise rolled through the hall.
"What now?!"
He turned—then finally relaxed.
This commotion, at least, was good news.
The registered Kengan fighter—Shiraki Sho's opponent for tonight—had arrived.
The crowd erupted as he stepped into view.
"Here he comes[The Nioh] Komada!"