Chapter 19: Hattori Heiji's Sudden Realization
Hikigaya didn't particularly care what the detective duo thought. After all, they moved in different circles, and back at Universal Studios, he had already determined that these two were unlikely to become customers of the Yorozuya. At his current standing, frankly speaking, there weren't many things left that could truly concern him. Thus, he was indifferent and had no misgivings.
"Hattori, you can't take this man away," Hikigaya said to Hattori Heiji.
Hikigaya had studied under Yomi. Even though he had become a Campione, he was still a Yomi martial artist. Regardless of how he was treated within Yomi, this was a choice of ideology. Inwardly, he agreed with Yomi's philosophy: martial arts are not just a technique, but a precious treasure left by ancestors to posterity, the product of the perfect combination of human rationality and wild instinct. In a modern society full of temptation, successors have an obligation to preserve its purest side and not let it be lost.
The "Killing Fist" is for killing, but it is not about infatuation with the pleasure of slaying an opponent, nor is it for the sake of greed, fame, or material gain. Practicing martial arts with such goals, other than causing the world to misunderstand martial artists, would most likely produce no other positive effects. If one encounters such a person, it is one's duty to educate and reform them, bringing them back to the righteous path. This is the obligation of every dark martial artist.
Hikigaya had now decided to fulfill this obligation.
"You, practice the bow?" Hikigaya asked succinctly, looking at the somewhat bewildered masked man.
"Who are you?" The masked man clearly lowered his voice on purpose.
"I'm asking you one last time: bare-handed or weapons?" Hikigaya was growing impatient. He hadn't summoned this group of people for such a trivial occasion. He was already slightly annoyed that the target he wanted to "play" with hadn't shown up, and now he had encountered someone who seemed unwilling to be "educated." If he was unwilling to be educated and reformed, then he might as well just die.
"Are you a martial artist?" The masked man didn't seem to sense Hikigaya's impatience. He observed Hikigaya closely, then looked at the surrounding Yomi warriors. "Are you all martial artists?"
"Oh?" Hikigaya actually sensed a certain intent emanating from the man. This fellow didn't seem to be the type who could be described simply as a "bad person." This intent was familiar to him—it was the kind of intent found only in those whose obsession with martial arts was almost pure.
So, he took a closer look. Under the Eye of Horus, everything was revealed clearly; Hikigaya knew everything about this man. This person didn't need "reforming"—he was a perfect candidate for Yomi.
"Your archery is decent, but that isn't your specialty." Hikigaya's mood improved significantly. He looked at the surrounding Yomi warriors. "Those who practice local Kyoto swordsmanship styles, step forward."
About ten or so warriors holding Japanese katanas stepped out from the crowd.
"Whose swordsmanship has origins linked to Minamoto no Yoshitsune?" Hikigaya asked.
This time, only one person took a step forward, saying in a deep voice, "This subordinate practices the Yoshitsune-ryu."
Good, perfect. Sure enough, Hikigaya heard the masked man's voice rise significantly in pitch.
"Yoshitsune-ryu? Impossible! That art has been lost!"
In the next instant, the Yomi warrior practicing Yoshitsune-ryu erupted with a surge of killing intent, staring coldly at the masked man with an expression that said, "Lost my foot! See if I don't hack you to death."
Only Hikigaya noticed that when the Great Tengu on the branch heard "Yoshitsune-ryu," he lost his previous irritable state of wanting to fly off at any moment. Instead, he lay down on the branch, his face full of intense interest. Could this fellow be the very one who taught Minamoto no Yoshitsune back in the day?
"My Lord, may I slay him?" the Yomi warrior asked Hikigaya, pulling his attention back.
"No need to be angry." Seeing the rage on the man's face, Hikigaya chuckled inwardly. "This man holds Minamoto no Yoshitsune and the Yoshitsune-ryu in extremely high regard. It's just that he thought the style was lost. Over the years, he's searched everywhere for clues, teaching himself some broken moves, hoping to recreate the Yoshitsune-ryu through his own strength. To that end, he didn't hesitate to kill for money."
Hearing Hikigaya's words, the Yomi warrior was momentarily stunned. When he looked at the masked man again, his gaze changed. It was like seeing his own troublesome kid suddenly rank first in class—wanting to offer praise but fearing the brat would get cocky.
"My Lord, please give your orders," the Yomi warrior bowed calmly to Hikigaya.
"What is your name?" Hikigaya asked.
"Kiichirou."
"Good, Kiichirou. If he can take one strike from you and not die, he's yours." Hikigaya nodded and pointed at the masked man. "Give him a sword."
A dozen swords flew out from the crowd, stabbing one by one into the ground in front of the masked man.
"Wait a minute!" someone suddenly shouted.
A hundred gazes instantly fell upon the speaker, making his heart nearly stop.
"Hattori, do you have another problem?" Hikigaya looked at Hattori Heiji with a calm expression.
"Brother, what do you plan to do?" Hattori Heiji's expression was very serious.
"Isn't it obvious?" Hikigaya looked at him strangely. "Martial artists have a martial artist's way of living and dying. One strike to decide life or death—there's nothing wrong with that, right?"
These words made Hattori's face turn as black as coal.
'Nothing wrong? Your damn problems are enough to fill a book!'
As a top family member of the Osaka police system, Hattori Heiji felt he had an obligation to criticize the other party properly.
"Big brother, killing is against the law. This is a civilized society."
What Hattori Heiji originally wanted to say wasn't quite like this, but being stared at by a group of "heroes" led by Hikigaya, the words came out this way when they reached his lips. After all, he was only the "Great Detective of the West," not the "Great Iron-Head of the West."
Where did these people come from? Since when did Japan have such a group of lunatics? Oh wait, there were many Westerners among them—it should be said, since when did the world have such a group of eccentrics? Had they practiced martial arts until their brains rotted? Hattori Heiji practiced Kendo too, so why didn't he have the urge to hack people at every turn?
A thousand words piled up like Mount Kurama in Hattori's mind, making him feel he had to speak out.
"Hikigaya Hachiman, just who exactly are you?"
He finally said it. How refreshing! Hattori didn't notice Conan at his feet looking at him with a gaze that said, "Will you die if you don't ask that?"
"Me? I'm an advocate of traditional culture, motivated by interest," Hikigaya answered with a serious face, then waved his hand. "Alright, I'll handle this person. I will absolutely not let anyone who dares to smear traditional culture go free. It's getting late; you two should head back."
Hattori Heiji looked up at the sky; the sun made his eyes ache. The sun? He suddenly remembered a file he had seen in his father's study.
That file indicated that overseas, there was a world-class terrorist organization whose members were basically "short a few screws." Under the slogan of inheriting the roots of
martial arts, they provoked wars all over the world through arms smuggling and political assassinations, then went to the battlefields to kill people—calling it "tempering their martial way." The people in this organization called their leader "Eternal Sunset," and the file contained a photo of that leader.
Hattori Heiji's eyes widened suddenly. He remembered why Hikigaya had looked familiar to him before. This man! This damn man was that super-chunibyo grand boss of a terrorist organization!!!
The criminal and everything else were no longer important—that guy was already a dead man. Hattori Heiji was not a pedantic person. The urgent priority was to leave quickly; otherwise, if Kudo's professional "detective disease" flared up, it would be bad—both of them would be finished here.
Great Tengu? I don't believe your crap for a second! Do you think I don't know this organization has a dark history of human experimentation? These people must have come to Japan to catch an escaped test subject!
"Fine, I believe you!" After finishing his "righteous" statement, amidst Conan's ghost-seeing gaze, Hattori Heiji grabbed Conan, dashed through the path opened by the Yomi warriors, and left at top speed.
As he ran wildly, only one thought remained in Hattori Heiji's mind: I have to call my cop dad immediately and tell him a group of terrorists has arrived in Kyoto!
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