There's a saying — "Like a crane standing among chickens."
That's exactly what the scene looked like now.
From the dark night outside the gates, a massive figure stepped into the dim light of the underground casino.
The moment he appeared, every eye in the room turned toward him.
He was a giant of a man, towering well over one meter ninety.
One look at his face told you — this was no ordinary man.
His hair was slicked back neatly, his body clad in a rugged work shirt.
Even through the fabric, his muscles bulged like carved stone, and his back — the body's vital strike zone — was marked by an unnatural, raised scar.
His fists were like boulders, both of them covered in countless scars, old and new.
No one present doubted his strength.
That man was Komada — nicknamed "Nioh" (The Benevolent King).
And with his arrival, the entire underground arena erupted in excitement.
No one cared anymore about the unconscious thug sprawled on the floor.
Every degenerate, gambler, and lowlife in the hall burned with anticipation.
"That build's insane— the real deal!"
"This time's worth the ticket! What's the Zanchi Group up to lately? They actually hired an active Kengan Association fighter?!"
"Yah-hoo! Nioh! You'd better kill him tonight! I want rivers of blood!"
The atmosphere boiled like a storm of heat, suffocating those caught in it.
But amid that roaring chaos, a small patch of calm remained — a strange stillness untouched even by the raging crowd.
The small-time boss could feel it
Shiraki Sho and the three girls beside him watched Komada not with fear or dread, but with a mix of curiosity, confusion, even excitement.
Not one of them was afraid.
"...Tch."
The boss, overwhelmed by discomfort and the awkwardness of Sho's arm draped casually over his shoulder, wriggled free.
"Finally, he's here. I'll go arrange the match. Someone will come get you soon."
Eager to escape the suffocating pressure, the boss hurried off.
The moment he left, Karura used the excuse of fetching drinks to pull Arisa away, leaving only Gō Kazemizu and Shiraki Sho together.
"Yo, boss!"
Gō Kazemizu suddenly changed her tone, giving Sho a teasing salute.
"Boss?" Sho blinked in surprise. "Why are you calling me that now— wait, don't tell me protecting Arisa costs extra!?"
"Haha, no way! She's Karura's classmate, so I'm doing this one for free."
Gō waved both hands with a grin, her heterochromatic eyes glinting playfully. "But since you mention it… you do know about the 'Wu Clan,' right?"
Sho nodded.
Kazemizu pulled out a folded slip of paper and dangled it teasingly in front of him.
"In that case, I've got an interesting piece of info for you — directly related to you, actually.
Discounted price: 500,000 yen. Grand opening sale. What do you say?"
Sho shook his head without hesitation.
Kazemizu sighed dramatically. "Rejected that quickly?"
Sho spread his hands helplessly. "I'd love to know, but Wu Clan intel? I'm broke. No matter how much I want it, I can't pay."
"At least pretend to negotiate!" Kazemizu groaned, rubbing her forehead.
"Maaaan, I was even planning to let you owe me, just so I'd have an excuse to dig into your background later.
You and your 'skills' really are interesting…"
At that, Sho's eyelid twitched slightly.
The Wu Clan were infamous — elite assassins known for their strength and efficiency.
But being an assassin family also meant they didn't think like normal people.
For example, one Wu family tradition dated back over a thousand years — "For the sake of strength, the Wu shall seek superior bloodlines."
Generations of them had absorbed the "biological seeds" of renowned martial artists to continuously refine their genes and fighting instincts.
Rumor had it, Karura wasn't interested in Sho at all — her type leaned more toward men like Tokita Ohma, whom she would supposedly meet one day.
But Kazemizu, on the other hand, seemed quite intrigued by Sho
and not necessarily just for his combat skills.
"Come on, we're both 'guardians' here, right? You, your sister — me, my cousin. Don't be a stranger!"
Kazemizu leaned in, draping an arm over Sho's shoulder, smiling slyly.
"This time, I'll let you owe me one. I'll tell you for free."
Sho hesitated for a moment — then she suddenly turned serious.
"This match — especially your opponent, Komada the Nioh — his appearance fee isn't something a small-time gang like Zanchi could afford."
"More importantly, the match itself feels… wrong.
If you were still sick right now, the fight would be completely one-sided — a slaughter, not a match."
She lowered her voice. "Someone else paid Komada's fee.
And their goal isn't just to see a fight."
Sho's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
Kazemizu's tone hardened. "Three possible factions.
The Teiai Group, a Kengan Association member company,
and… an unnamed foreign underground force."
"The last one's buried deep. I can't even confirm it exists.
But… it might."
Sho rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Then?"
Kazemizu nodded, continuing.
"As for Komada — he's a Kengan fighter hired by the Nogi Group.
Three wins, no losses. A rising rookie. Used to be Yakuza.
Dirty fighter, hits hard."
"And since this isn't an official Kengan match, I wouldn't rule out the possibility that he's bringing a weapon."
Sho smirked. "Good to know. Thanks."
Kazemizu winked. "Don't forget — you owe me one."
Sho didn't reply.
A short rest later, the Teiai Group's black-suited escorts arrived to bring Sho to Komada.
It was the standard pre-fight face-off — meant to stir up the crowd and crank up the tension.
The lights over the arena blazed to their maximum brightness.
Hundreds of spectators leaned forward as Shiraki Sho and Komada the Nioh faced each other across the ring.
The size difference was instantly clear.
Sho: height 187 cm, weight 94 kg.
Komada: height 192 cm, weight 121 kg.
In a legitimate match, such a difference would be disallowed.
It wouldn't be fair — the audience wouldn't stomach it.
But here, in the underworld of illegal fights
Once you step into the ring, there's no turning back.
"The organizer's offer was solid," Komada grunted, folding his arms.
"But why's my opponent some new face?"
Sho raised his head, unfazed. "Home dojo. I teach hobbyists."
Komada blinked, then frowned deeper. "So it's your debut match?"
He scoffed. "The way I see it, I've got every advantage — physique, experience, reputation.
And you still dare to stand in front of me?"
Sho smirked. "Why wouldn't I?"
Their eyes locked — Komada's killing intent rising, Sho's blood starting to burn.
Once again, the phantom of Ryu appeared before him, launching that same straight punch
the punch Sho still couldn't completely evade.
Compared to that, Komada's bulk and aura seemed trivial.
Komada sensed the faint trace of contempt in Sho's gaze.
"So that's how it is…"
He cracked his knuckles and tilted his chin up.
"Get ready to spend a long, long time in bed
if not the rest of your life."
"Komada sure knows how to play the crowd," Kazemizu muttered from the sidelines.
She stood beside Karura and Arisa, watching the ring.
To kill time, they began explaining to Arisa the world of Kengan matches, and bits of Wu Clan tradition.
It was almost surreal — casual chatter amid the roaring chaos of an underground casino.
But then, something odd caught their attention
in a distant corner near a mahjong table, the air felt… heavy.
They leaned closer just in time to hear
"Tsumo. Nine Gates. Yakuman. Thirty-two thousand points. Game over."
The man speaking was a silver-haired middle-aged man in a casual suit.
His voice was calm, even lazy — but carried a razor's edge.
Kazemizu and Karura exchanged glances — then both turned pale in surprise as they saw who sat across from him.
An elderly man with long white hair and beard, wearing a male kimono.
Wrinkled face, frail frame — but behind those eyes lay power, age, and unmistakable killing intent.
The legendary Chairman of the Kengan Association, the financial overlord himself — Katahara Metsudo.
He shared deep ties with the Wu Clan's leader, and clearly recognized the two girls immediately.
"Grandpa Metsudo!"
Karura ran straight into his arms, while Kazemizu followed with a respectful bow.
The old man chuckled heartily, ruffling Karura's hair.
Turning to the man across the table, he laughed.
"Hohoho! I lost again! Mahjong's never been my game, it seems!"
The white-haired man merely lit a cigarette, sighing softly.
"Don't joke, old man. This was just a casual round, not even a real match."
"Hah! True enough. We were supposed to go drinking, after all. Sorry for dragging you here to humor me instead!"
Metsudo grinned and gestured toward the three girls.
"This fine gentleman is my drinking companion"
The silver-haired man raised his hand lazily, cigarette between his fingers.
"Akagi," he said.
"Akagi Shigeru."