CHAPTER 112: SHALLOW YET EFFECTIVE
Ren Shiroki had already gathered some intel from Fusui Kure.
IDEAL.
The name referred to the most perfect form of a diamond cut. But in the underworld, it was a brand of terror.
They were the ones who hired the Zanshi-gumi to rig matches, the ones who threatened Hina Hongo for chemical weapons, the ones behind the missile smuggling on the Espoir, and the financiers of Sadakuni's failed revolution.
Their leader's identity remained a mystery. The syndicate itself operated by funding rebel armies and guerrilla cells across the globe—a predatory group that used any means necessary to achieve their ends.
Recently, they had begun a "Consolidation Phase," aggressively swallowing up rival criminal networks in every country they entered.
Based on Metsudo Katahara's briefing and his own memories, Ren deduced the logic of the situation.
IDEAL wasn't just looking for cash. They wanted the "Legitimacy" that the Kengan Association and the Kakerou Club had spent centuries building. They wanted to steal the throne of the underground and rule it from the light.
"IDEAL wants to devour our infrastructure," Metsudo noted, glancing at Nogi.
"To maintain the strength of its leaders, large underground organizations have built-in culling mechanisms."
"To take the Kengan Association, one must challenge the current Chairman—me—and trigger the Kengan Life-or-Death Annihilation Tournament. Their fighter must win the whole bracket."
"That was your original plan, wasn't it, Nogi-kun? It seems your ambition is being weaponized by a foreign power."
Metsudo held up two fingers. "The Kakerou Club has a similar ritual: 'Surmounting the Heights.' If a member meets the requirements, they can challenge the Leader. If they win, the Club is theirs."
"The Kengan Tournament and the Heights Challenge. If IDEAL wins both, the entire Japanese underworld falls into their lap overnight."
"Of course," Metsudo cackled, "that assumes IDEAL can win."
"Right now, it's not just IDEAL. The Yakuza, the conglomerates, and even the 'Shadows' within the police force are getting restless."
"Prepare yourselves, children. A new Warring States Period is arriving!"
Nogi Hideki was drenched in sweat. He had been preparing for a corporate coup, but he realized now he was stepping into a global conflict. He would have to rethink everything.
Ren Shiroki and Doppo Orochi, however, were focused on a different set of data.
Doppo flipped through the laptop's files on the escaped convicts, his single eye reflecting the blue light of the screen. "Haha! 'Seeking Defeat,' huh? What a bunch of interesting bastards!"
Marco stared at the bloody crime scene photos. The former "Demon of the Building" tightened his fists. He had sworn to never kill again, but his protective instincts were flaring.
"Marco will protect Arisa-nee! And Ren-nii! And Akagi-oji-san! And all the good people from the BBQ!"
Doppo blinked at the giant. "Is that so? Good spirit, kid!"
He looked at Ren and grinned. "Ren-kun, you understand the simple logic this 'Rough Diamond' just uttered, don't you?"
"People like us... the reason we grind every single day? It's for this." Doppo tightened his own massive fist.
"We want to be the strongest when the brawl starts."
"In a bar. On a street corner."
"Whether it's an athlete, a master, a convict, or a terrorist organization..."
Doppo raised his fist, the callused knuckles catching the porch light.
"In a blood-soaked struggle for existence, nothing is more effective than a Hard Fist."
He set his hands on his hips.
"Now, a critic might ask: '!? Does the great Bushin only care about hitting things hard? Is he really that shallow?'"
"Haha! What an idiot!"
Doppo leaned in, covering his mouth with a hand as if sharing a secret.
"Is a hard fist not enough?!"
Ren and Metsudo burst out laughing. Marco nodded solemnly. Only Nogi and Kaede looked bewildered by the "Grandmaster's" logic.
"Since the dawn of time," Doppo continued, his tone turning serious, "men shout when they're lying. When they're telling the Truth, they whisper."
He tapped the dossiers of the five death-row inmates.
"Metsudo-san is right. These 'Black Martial Arts' specialists don't care about rules. For them, combat isn't a sport. It's a slaughter."
"And if you lose once, you're dead. That's why they've never lost."
Doppo noticed Marco looking tense.
"Don't be scared, kid," Doppo said, patting Marco's shoulder. "I heard from Katsumi that you and Ren-kun met Him already. The Ogre."
"Can you imagine Yujiro Hanma kneeling in the dirt, surrendering to a convict?"
Doppo's teeth bared in a jagged smirk. "Exactly. As long as your fist is harder than their resolve, let them come. Convicts, syndicates, monsters... bring them all!"
Ren met Doppo's gaze. A mutual "Hunger" sparked between the youth and the veteran.
Ren leaned back, grinning. "Beating men who have never tasted defeat? Nice! Simply perfect!"
The Next Evening. Edogawa District.
In a nameless, concrete basement gym on the edge of the city, the air was thick with the scent of old sweat and liniment.
Tonight, there were two scheduled Kengan matches.
Ren Shiroki arrived early. He sat on the stone steps outside the entrance, peeling a banana and eating a large bowl of vegetable congee. He followed it up by chugging a bottle of flat, de-carbonated cola.
His match was the second on the card. He was fueling up while waiting for his squad to arrive.
"Hoo...!"
Ren drained the last of the sugar water and leaned his head back against the brick wall, staring at the twilight sky. Suddenly, a shadow loomed over him.
He turned his head.
Standing above him was a man with a frame like a block of industrial steel. He wore a crisp, expensive suit, but it couldn't hide the military rigidity of his posture. He had a short, stiff buzz cut, a face with hard, chiseled angles, and eyes that were as cold and piercing as an eagle's.
The man's face triggered a file in Ren's memory.
Ren met the man's gaze, offering a playful, provocative smirk. The man's expression darkened instantly. He looked like he was about to speak, but a woman stepped out from behind him.
The woman wore an elegant kimono and had short, neat hair. She placed a gentle hand on the man's arm. "Akoya... come. The first match is about to begin."
"..."
The man grunted and gave a stiff nod. He pulled his gaze away from Ren and marched down the stairs into the gym.
As the couple disappeared, the official Kengan Referee arrived.
It was the same man from the Espoir. After the "Three-Match Marathon," he and Ren had become casual acquaintances.
"Ren-san! Good to see you on your feet," the Referee noted. He spotted Ren looking at the retreating pair. "You know them?"
"Not personally," Ren shook his head, handing the Referee a cold soda. "Who are they?"
"A pair to watch out for," the Referee said, popping the tab.
"That man is the leader of the Metropolitan Police Riot Squad. He's also a high-ranking Kengan fighter."
"Representing Wakasa Life Insurance... the man they call 'The Executioner', Seishu Akoya."
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