Chapter 5: Unhinged
"I looked into the Grisly Tooth Gang these past few days. It seems they really did hire a 'Kengan Association Registered Fighter,' but how could a low-to-mid-level yakuza group possibly afford that fee?"
"The 'underground world' is in turmoil..."
Kure Fusu licked her lips in excitement and waved to the girl on the roadside.
"Tonight's going to be interesting. Don't worry, Karura and I will protect you."
"C'mon, Arisa-chin!"
"..."
Seeing Arisa remain silent, clearly with no intention of going, Kure Fusu and Karura thought it was a shame.
But then again, it made sense. Unlike them, who were from the "Kure Clan," Arisa was just a "normal person." It was only natural to be scared after hearing words like "yakuza" and "underground fighting."
"If you don't want to go, you don't have to force yourself," Karura said, leaning against the car window to comfort Arisa. "We'll stay in touch by phone and tell you the results of the match—"
Before she could finish, Arisa suddenly threw her hands in the air with a cheer.
"Whoo!"
She dashed into the car, thanked them both, her eyes shining with an indescribable thrill.
"..."
This time, it was Fusu and Karura who were stunned.
Normally, the script should have been Arisa, face full of worry, overcoming her fear, gathering her courage, and finally getting into the car with determination.
But why was it... Arisa, with sparkling eyes, letting out a "Whoo!" and just... getting in the car?!
"Arisa," Karura couldn't help her curiosity, "you... you know where we're going, right? Aren't you a little... scared?"
"Nope!"
Arisa propped her chin on her hand and sighed. "I'm really worried about my brother, but I'm not scared—my luck has always been really good. It'll be fine."
Karura was even more confused.
As far as she knew, the siblings Shiraki Kei and Sakurai Arisa did not have an easy life. You could even call it miserable.
Parents deceased, brother critically ill, dojo closed, hounded by loan sharks, land coveted by the yakuza... all these terrible things happened one after another. How could Arisa possibly say she was lucky?
"For example—"
Arisa counted on her fingers, recalling each event.
"I was adopted, and I met my grandpa and my brother. I was thinking of dropping out of school to pay for my brother's treatment, but then someone showed up offering a loan. We were about to lose our home, but then my brother's illness got better..."
"And now—I was just worrying about my brother, and you two showed up to pick me up, Karura and Fusu-san!"
Arisa clenched her fists tightly, stating with conviction, "See? My luck is super!"
"..."
Hearing this, Fusu and Karura exchanged a look in the rearview mirror.
The Kure Clan's worldview was vastly different from that of ordinary people, as most of them were professional assassins. But even from the Kure Clan's perspective, Arisa's way of thinking was... abnormal.
Or perhaps, as expected of a fighter's family... they had their own touch of "madness."
...
...
The car sped toward the suburbs.
Leaving the city lights behind, they entered the dim darkness, as if crossing from the "normal world" into the "underground world."
Their destination was an "underground casino" in an abandoned resort.
From the outside, the place looked like it had been deserted for ages. But once inside the main gate, they could see an unfinished building, its exterior still covered in scaffolding. It didn't even have windows, but the building had power.
The car parked in the open lot outside.
Arisa, Karura, and Fusu got out, one by one, and scanned their surroundings.
It was certainly a lively night.
Parked in the lot were not only the standard black yakuza sedans, but also chaotically spray-painted off-road vehicles, and even bosozoku-style motorcycles.
Walking into the unfinished building, an even hotter, more chaotic atmosphere hit them.
As far as the eye could see, there were countless grey-area—or even illegal—gambling facilities: pachinko, mahjong, roulette, Texas Hold'em, blackjack...
Yakuza, bosozoku, punks, and delinquents—all sorts of "bad guys" wandered under the dim lights, the noise level constant.
The air, thick with the smell of cigarettes and cologne, was sharp and pungent.
Arisa couldn't help but swallow, murmuring, "Tonight, my brother is... fighting a Kengan match here..."
"Wrong."
Hearing this, Karura corrected her. "Shiraki-san is fighting an underground match against a 'Kengan Association Registered Fighter,' not an actual 'Kengan match.'"
Arisa was confused. "What's the difference?"
"A lot. Underground fighting has different levels. The Kengan Association is the very top of the pyramid."
The current head of the Kure Clan had deep ties to the Kengan Association. As the patriarch's most doted-on great-granddaughter, Karura was a frequent spectator at the matches.
She listed the differences, "For example, the audience. A Kengan match audience is mostly made up of members, lots of corporate bigwigs and politicians. Besides the main bets from the fighters' representatives, the side-betting pool is calculated in the tens of millions."
"But the most important thing—is the atmosphere."
"The atmosphere at a real Kengan match is far more... intense than this."
Karura yawned, bored. "In other words, even if they hired a registered Kengan fighter, this place is just a 'fake'..."
Arisa nodded, mostly understanding.
It was like the low-level street thugs who looked intimidating, but if they were to stand next to some corporate CEO, a high-level academic, or an Olympic champion, their lack of true presence would be painfully obvious.
"..."
As Arisa was thinking this, she scanned the area, trying to find her brother.
Suddenly, she bumped into someone—or more accurately, the person deliberately stepped in front to block their path.
He was a scar-faced punk in a colorful beach shirt, reeking of booze, his hair slicked back.
He had overheard Arisa and Karura's conversation. Having just lost 200,000 yen at the tables, he was in a particularly foul mood and decided to start trouble.
"Hey, where'd you brats come from, spouting bullshit? You want me to sink you in Tokyo Bay, huh?!"
The scar-faced punk's beady eyes locked onto Arisa's school uniform. "Or what, are you two escorts in costume? Not bad-looking..."
As he spoke, the punk reached out for Arisa.
But in the next second, his hand was forced to a stop. An icy-cold object was pressed against his chin—
It was a dagger, small and portable, held in Kure Fusu's hand.
"My family takes promises very seriously. Since I promised to protect Arisa-chin, I can't neglect her psychological health, either."
Those black-sclera, white-pupil eyes stared at the punk with a hint of playfulness. "Besides, you're the fake. Even your 'death threats' are just bluffs."
The scar-faced punk was instantly enraged. "You threatening a yakuza with a toy? Don't underestimate me!"
He clenched his fist and moved to strike.
Fusu was about to counter when a large hand shot out from beside her, grabbing the punk's wrist and slamming it down.
"Agh, it hurts!"
The punk felt his wrist about to snap. He was forced to his knees, still cursing.
The three girls turned and saw Shiraki Kei.
Enraged, the scar-faced punk, ignoring the pain, pulled a knife from his waist and lunged, stabbing at Kei.
Shiraki Kei merely took half a step forward, twisting the punk's wrist back even further, breaking his posture. He then suddenly released his grip and drove an uppercut into the man's gut.
"Ugh!"
The scar-faced punk grunted, consciousness fading instantly. He collapsed to the ground, vomiting all over the place.
Seeing this, Kure Fusu's eyes lit up.
She could clearly see that, compared to three days ago, Shiraki Kei's movements were far more coordinated. Even his breathing was more rhythmic. To a trained eye, it was a pleasure to watch.
Fusu twirled her dagger, spun it around, and sheathed it at her waist, raising a hand in greeting.
"Yo, Shiraki-chin!"
"..."
Shiraki Kei glanced at Fusu, then at Arisa and Karura behind her. A flicker of thought crossed his eyes. He nodded in response.
"Yo. Good evening."
"...Huh?" Fusu froze.
She had prepared a whole speech to explain herself—after all, she had brought his little sister to this dangerous place. She would have understood if he was angry.
But Shiraki Kei didn't seem to care at all!
In reality, Shiraki Kei did care, but he'd already thought it through.
He definitely hadn't expected the two girls from the Kure Clan to track him all the way here, let alone bring Arisa.
But on second thought, Arisa was probably safer with the Kure Clan than she would be at home alone.
So... he'd just stop thinking about it. Screw it, this was fine.
Shiraki Kei ruffled Arisa's hair. "It's chaotic here. Be good and don't wander off."
"Okay!"
Arisa nodded obediently.
Fusu and Karura once again marveled: Wow, these siblings really are on the same wavelength!
"..."
Arisa looked at the unconscious punk on the ground, a little worried. "Bro, are we causing trouble for you?"
"You mean hitting him?"
Shiraki Kei raised an eyebrow and waved his hand with a smile. "Nah, don't worry."
Just then, Inoue, the Grisly Tooth boss, was drawn over by the commotion. Before he could say a word, Shiraki Kei grabbed him and slung an arm over his shoulder like they were old friends.
"In fact, they should be thanking me!"
Shiraki Kei completely ignored the veins popping on the boss's forehead and laughed heartily. "After all, yakuza aren't the only kind of 'violence' in the world. I just saved you a ton of trouble, right, Inoue-bro?"
The boss was so angry his eye was twitching. He was about to explode, but then he suddenly noticed something.
The girl's waist... it wasn't just a dagger. There was a "special silhouette" hidden under her clothes.
No matter how small the Grisly Tooth Gang was, it was still affiliated with a larger yakuza organization. The boss had seen things. He could guess what that silhouette was—
A pistol!?
For real...?
Kure Fusu noticed his gaze and smiled. "It's real."
The boss still refused to believe it, but a strong sense of unease crept over him, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
What the hell is with these people?!
"..."
The atmosphere grew tense.
Just as the boss was about to shrug Shiraki Kei off and go for a smoke to calm his nerves, another commotion started up on the other side.
"What now!"
The boss turned his head, and finally let out a small sigh of relief. For him, a new commotion was good news; at least it meant the other side of the plan was going smoothly.
Shiraki Kei's opponent for the night, the registered fighter from the top-tier underground organization, the "Kengan Association," had arrived as promised. He made his entrance to the cheers of the crowd.
"He's here—Komada the [Nioh] is here!"