CHAPTER 3: THE PURSUIT OF STRENGTH
The "Mental Overdrive" was convenient, but having it trigger too often was a recipe for a massive migraine.
Since there was no immediate danger, Ren Shiroki took his time to process his memories. His sister, Arisa Sakurai, had come home with two classmates—Kozue Matsumoto and Karura Kure.
The former, Kozue, had her hair in a ponytail with slightly curled ends. She was the picture of a quiet, "girl-next-door" type. In another world—the world of Baki—she was the heroine and the girlfriend of Baki Hanma.
Ren wondered where they stood in this timeline. Had they confessed to each other yet?
The latter girl was far more striking. Karura had long, straight black hair and a lean, toned physique that radiated an unnatural level of vitality.
Her eyes were her most defining feature. They weren't just sharp; her sclera was pitch black and her pupils were white—the signature look of the Kure Clan, a family of elite assassins from the world of Kengan Ashura. Despite being a high schooler, she possessed combat prowess that could rival a professional hitman.
Even professional assassins have to go to school.
Ren quickly pieced it together. Arisa attended Koyo Academy, a prestigious all-girls school. In this world, Karura wasn't the only "monster" roaming those hallways.
Years ago, their adoptive grandfather had practically bankrupted himself to save up enough for Arisa's tuition, wanting her to have a normal, successful life. After the Yakuza debt spiraled out of control, Arisa had considered using her tuition money to pay them off, only to realize that a few years of school fees were a drop in the ocean compared to thirty million yen.
She tried to hide her stress from her "sick" brother, but her friends had noticed her depression. That was why Kozue and Karura had taken her out for sweets today.
"Pardon the intrusion!" Karura waved energetically at Ren. Beside her, Kozue gave a polite, smiling bow.
Arisa had told them about Ren's condition beforehand, and both girls had been worried. But seeing him now, he didn't look like a man at death's door.
In fact...
Karura narrowed her eyes. Born into a lineage of martial arts masters, she saw things others missed.
This man was supposed to have chronic brain damage, yet his "Ki"—his presence—was overflowing. He looked as vital as a pro athlete, maybe even more so than some of the Kure Clan's lower-ranked assassins.
The only thing that betrayed his "illness" was his posture. A true master has a perfectly stable center of gravity. Ren's "central line" was shaky, his movements showing a certain stiffness that came from years of being bedridden.
"Arisa's brother is a lot more interesting than I thought..."
"Eh?"
Karura looked over and noticed Kozue's expression was unchanged. Usually, a guy with Ren's height and looks would at least get a reaction out of a high school girl, even if she wasn't interested. But Kozue looked like she had seen this a thousand times before.
"Kozue-chan?" Karura tilted her head. She heard Kozue whispering under her breath.
"He's just like him... always chasing 'strength'..."
Kozue looked at Ren and sighed. "Just like the guy staying at my place. He's out running before the sun is up, then he's back home making a racket while he trains. He's always covered in sweat, and sometimes he comes home covered in blood."
"He—Baki—told me he wants to be the strongest on earth."
"But my mom always says... living like that will only get you killed."
With a look of weary resignation, Kozue bowed to the group and said her goodbyes, her figure disappearing down the street.
Karura, however, checked her phone. "Um, I might have to hang around for a bit. My big sister promised to pick me up here, but she's not here yet."
Ren and Arisa welcomed her to stay. But as Arisa went to grab a stool for Karura, she noticed something.
"Wait... Onii-chan, your hand. It's not shaking anymore."
She looked at his shirt and saw the sweat stains. Her eyes widened. "Did you... were you training?!"
"Yeah, just a little," Ren said, tapping the bandage on his head. "I felt a lot better today. My head is clear. I think the CTE might actually be in remission."
"That's... impossible."
Arisa had visited over a dozen hospitals in Tokyo. Every single doctor had told her the same thing: Chronic brain damage has no cure. You can only manage the symptoms.
She was trembling with hope. "But... how?"
"Maybe it's the human body. It's a mysterious thing," Karura interjected. "In my family, we've spent generations selecting 'seeds' and 'techniques' from masters to break the brain's limiters and 'release' our true power."
"Maybe Arisa's brother had a freak accident—a catalyst that triggered a high-speed recovery mechanism. Like... a recent trauma to the head?"
Karura and Arisa both looked at the fresh bandage on Ren's head. It was the most logical explanation.
Arisa beamed. "So it really is a blessing in disguise?"
Ren shrugged. "Maybe."
Arisa reached out for his head. "Let me feel!"
Karura quickly caught Arisa's wrist. "Careful, Arisa-chan! It's still a fresh wound. It'll hurt!"
VROOOOM—!
The roar of an engine echoed from down the street. A sleek, high-performance motorcycle tore around the corner.
It was an eye-catching bike, but the rider was even more striking. She was a fit young woman with short hair, wearing a black sleeveless top and shorts that showed off her lean, muscular midsection.
SCREECH!
The bike drifted to a perfect halt right in front of the dojo gate. The woman pulled off her sunglasses, revealing the same black sclera and white pupils as Karura.
"Ane-san!" Karura waved. She turned to the siblings. "This is my cousin. She's three years older than me."
"Fusui Kure," the girl introduced herself with a casual flick of her sunglasses.
Fusui's eyes immediately locked onto Ren. Unlike Karura, who was an "all-around genius," Fusui specialized in firearms and tracking. She noticed details instantly.
"Height 187cm (6'2"). Weight roughly 94kg (207 lbs). Incredible stats."
"This is a Karate dojo? It looks abandoned. I've never heard of a master living around here..."
On a whim, Fusui raised her right hand. She tucked her fingers, leaving her thumb and index finger extended in the shape of a handgun. She aimed it directly at Ren's forehead.
To a normal girl, it was a joke. To a Kure assassin who specialized in sniping, it was a declaration.
"Bang!"
Fusui made the sound. Ren didn't react. There was no killing intent.
"Bang!"
She made the sound again. Ren didn't move. She wasn't aiming for him.
"Ba—"
Before the third "Bang" could leave her lips, Ren's body blurred. He dropped into a low crouch, his right leg lunging forward in a sliding step. His entire body's potential energy exploded in a single instant.
WHOOSH!
The dash was so fast it seemed to warp the air, leaving an afterimage. He closed the distance in the blink of an eye.
Fusui nearly lost her balance. Her white pupils shrank as a sudden gust of wind hit her face.
She could hear Ren's heavy, ragged breathing.
"Hah... hah..."
Beads of sweat broke out on Ren's forehead. Some were cold—from the sudden spike of killing intent Fusui had released—and some were hot, from the sheer physical strain of the sudden burst.
"What a terrifying dash," Fusui muttered, genuinely impressed. Then she added, "But your body isn't synchronized yet. You're still recovering, aren't you?"
"I'll tell you the details on the way! Let's let them rest," Karura said, hopping onto the back of the bike. She waved to Arisa and Ren. "Thanks for having me! See you at school tomorrow!"
As the bike sped away, Karura began to complain to her cousin.
"Testing him like that the first time you meet? That was a bit rude, Fusui-nee."
Fusui smirked apologetically. "Sorry, sorry. I couldn't help myself. It's been a long time since I've seen a guy that interesting."
Karura was confused. "Why? I didn't even tell you about his condition yet."
Fusui nodded. "Actually, I saw something on the way here. Look."
The bike banked around a corner just outside the dojo's perimeter wall.
Fusui pointed to the weeds by the side of the road. There, lying in the dirt, was a heavy standing punching bag. The canvas was shredded, and the sand filling was scattered everywhere.
"That's..."
Karura traced the trajectory. The bag had clearly been launched from inside the dojo grounds. Unless Arisa had suddenly become a world-class powerhouse, there was only one possibility.
Ren had punched that bag so hard it broke its base and flew over the wall.
"I've never seen a style like that," Karura whispered, her curiosity piqued. "It wasn't pure Karate. What kind of style is Arisa's brother practicing?"
"Who knows..." Fusui smiled, putting her sunglasses back on. "Don't you have exams coming up? I don't have any 'contracts' this week. I'll do a little digging. I always did enjoy a good investigation."
Back at the dojo, Arisa was still glowing with happiness.
Ren patted her shoulder. "Since it's a special occasion, I'll cook tonight. What's in the fridge?"
"Ah... oh!" Arisa snapped out of it. "We've got onions, potatoes, and carrots."
"Perfect. Curry it is."
Ren nodded, then looked at the crumbling dojo. "There's a lot to do. The match in three days, the Teiai debt, my rehab, fixing the roof, finding a way to make money... Oh, and I need to haul that sandbag back. Those things are expensive."
Arisa listened in silence. Since the day her brother fell ill, she hadn't seen him like this. He was... alive.
Ren looked at her, sensing he wanted to say a thousand things but couldn't find the right words. He settled for:
"You've worked hard these last few years, Arisa."
"Mhm."
"You can take it easy now. Go out with your friends. Have some fun."
"Mhm!"
"And stop worrying about your big brother."
"...Hmm?" Arisa's tone turned into a suspicious question. She knew her brother too well. He wasn't the type to sit still.
Just like the "Baki" that Kozue had mentioned, Arisa knew Ren was going to be a source of constant worry—especially with a thirty-million-yen debt hanging over their heads.
"For example," Arisa said narrowing her eyes. "What did you mean when you said 'the match in three days'?"
Three days later. Evening.
The underground match against the Kengan Fighter was about to begin.
The black-suited Teiai agents and the Yakuza boss pulled up to the dojo in a sleek black sedan. It was time.