CHAPTER 106: BALD AND SCRUFFY, TOO!
The man who slowly surfaced next to Yuzuha Li was a bald, one-eyed "Old Man."
He wore a rugged black leather eyepatch over his right eye. Deep scars traced jagged paths around his left socket and down his right cheek. His face was a map of deep-set wrinkles, but his mouth was curled into a faint, lazy smile. His single visible eye, narrow and sharp, flickered with a mischievous glint.
He grumbled about the "Noise" while observing the chaos on the pool deck with the detached interest of a theater-goer.
Yuzuha stood waist-deep in the water, looking down at him with a suspicious frown.
The first villain—the socially resentful spree killer—had a scruffy beard.
The second villain—the dangerous cult fanatic—was bald.
And now, this third guy appeared. He was both bald and scruffy. He was effectively a "Visual Fusion" of the two previous threats.
Is this a 'Danger-Plus' situation? Yuzuha wondered.
Under normal circumstances, any sane person would be swimming for the exit. But this old-timer was content to float on his back, occasionally spinning in a slow, comfortable circle.
"Hoo... I've spent too much time under freezing mountain waterfalls lately," the old man sighed. "This lukewarm pool water is a blessing. It's so gentle."
His eye drifted toward Yuzuha, turning playful.
In that heartbeat, Yuzuha's martial instincts screamed. She felt as if she had been targeted by a prehistoric Great White Shark. The sensation was primal—an ancient fear of being swallowed whole.
"!?!"
Terrified and operating on pure muscle memory, Yuzuha's body reacted. She threw her arms high, palms pressing downward to maintain her balance in the water. She chambered her right knee, ready to launch a snap-kick.
"OHHH!"
Her stance was perfect. Her breathing was a rhythmic pulse. She had entered her terminal combat state.
The one-eyed man watched her with a look of genuine appreciation. "That form... is it animal-mimicry? No, wait..."
"I remember now. That's the True Intent Six Harmonies Fist. Good breath control. Solid fundamentals. You've clearly put in the work, little girl!"
His tone was relaxed, even fatherly, but the pressure Yuzuha felt was increasing.
She had a sickening realization: in this old man's eye, she was nothing but a collection of openings. No matter how she moved—whether she struck first or waited—she would be dismantled in a single frame.
What the hell is this?! He's too strong!
"HEY!"
Yuzuha slammed her foot into the pool floor. SHING! The Stomp-Step (Zhen-jiao) sent a spray of water into the air, helping her anchor her spirit.
"Stop messing around! A 'Genius Kung Fu Princess' doesn't lose to common criminals! I'll take you on, you 'Bald and Scruffy Too' freak!"
The Old Man: "..."
The Old Man: "...Freak?"
Bald and scruffy too?
He realized she was comparing him to the two lunatics on the deck.
"Ah..."
The man looked genuinely embarrassed. "Now that you mention it, I haven't shaved since I left for my pilgrimage. That was quite rude of me. But the baldness? That's not a choice, little girl. Nature did that to me."
He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his smooth scalp, and stood up.
SPLASH!
As the water cascaded off his frame, he revealed a physique that stopped Yuzuha's breath.
He was roughly 178cm (5'10"), but he weighed well over 110kg (242 lbs).
Massive. That was the only word.
His neck, shoulders, arms, legs, chest, palms—even the calves submerged in the water—were columns of solid, high-density muscle. Every fiber of his being looked "Thick." Even his gaze and his breathing felt heavy.
He was wearing a pair of high-end Paisley-patterned swim trunks.
Up close, the training involved was obvious. His pectorals were like blocks of granite, his abdominals were carved with a chisel, and the tendons in his limbs looked like high-tension steel cables. It was a "Super-Soldier" build—a perfect fusion of absolute mass and elite agility.
It was heavy. It was sharp. It was terrifying.
"Incredible...!" Yuzuha whispered, her eyes wide with shock.
As she stared, a flicker of recognition crossed her mind. She'd seen this man before. In a textbook? No... a newspaper? Years ago?
"I didn't want to get out. The water was so nice..."
The old man put his hands on his hips, sighing as he looked at the chaos. "I went to the mountains to train. I stood under ice-waterfalls for weeks. I just got back to Tokyo today."
"I figured I'd sneak a free soak in my disciple's gym since I was in the neighborhood. I didn't care much for my 'Image.'"
"Don't misunderstand, little girl. There are hot springs in the mountains. I'm clean! I just forgot to pack a razor."
The one-eyed man turned his gaze toward the three figures at the center of the riot—Ren, the spree killer, and the cultist. He let out a weary snort.
"Good grief. I finally try to take a day off, and I can't even get a minute of peace. What's the deal with those three?"
Yuzuha stared at him, her mouth falling open. She finally remembered.
"You're... you're Doppo Orochi! The founder of the Shinshinkai! I saw you on the news! You're the legend!"
" Legend?! LEGEND?!"
The man named Doppo Orochi sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm still an 'Active' fighter, dammit! Why does everyone talk about me like I'm a ghost from the last century? That's cold, little girl! Real cold!"
Yuzuha's eye twitched. She let out a nervous laugh. "Ah... haha..."
If he was the legendary master of the Shinshinkai, he definitely wasn't a criminal. She relaxed her guard, but her eyes kept scanning his body.
In the martial arts world, this man was known as the "God of War"—the Bushin. But in person? He was just a weird, eccentric old man in paisley shorts. It was a hell of a disconnect.
Yuzuha slowly sank back into the water until only her eyes were visible, watching him like a curious otter.
Doppo Orochi turned and waded toward the edge of the pool.
When he reached the concrete lip, he didn't use the ladder or his hands. He simply coiled his legs and exploded.
ZIP!
He vaulted out of the water, landing on the pool deck in a perfect three-point stance. His feet were light, his balance absolute. His vertical leap was superhuman.
"Hoo! Not bad. The soak was good for the joints."
Doppo exhaled, completely ignoring the spree killer with the knife and the cultist with the stone-shattering hands. His single eye locked onto Ren Shiroki. He let out a broad, delighted grin.
"What a coincidence," Doppo mused. "I called the HQ this morning. I heard some interesting things from Suedo."
"He told me that he and my son—Katsumi—both got their asses handed to them in a single night. By the same man."
"It sounded like the tournament at the Dome all over again! What a disgrace! Hahaha!"
Doppo began to walk toward them. Step... step... step...
He stopped right next to the spree killer, Mimura, leaning his head over the man's shoulder to get a better look at Ren.
Ren met his gaze. A spark of recognition flared between them. It was a look Doppo knew well—the "Scent" of a seeker.
Doppo let out a long, paternal sigh. He decided to offer a lesson.
"Ren-kun, do you know the origin of the character for 'Might'?"
"It means 'To Stop the Spear.'"
"A warrior's true purpose is to end the struggle."
Doppo gestured to the man with the knife and the fanatic standing nearby.
"If you and I can neutralize these dangerous children with a single move, there is no need for a struggle. To go any further would be beneath a true martial artist."
"Do you agree, Ren-kun?"
Doppo's expression was elegant and serene—the very image of a Grandmaster. He paused for a beat, then...
THWACK!
He lashed out with a lightning-fast kick, his foot driving upward into the spree killer's groin with a sound like a wet sack of flour being hit by a bat.
"But screw the philosophy!" Doppo roared with laughter. "It feels way better to just kick them in the nuts first!"
☆☆☆
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