CHAPTER 113: DIE, PUNK
Seishu Akoya. Captain of the 44th Riot Squad of the Metropolitan Police Department. Known in the underworld as "The Executioner."
This was a man who belonged to the machinery of state-level violence, but his soul was possessed by a distorted concept of "Justice." In his mind, he wasn't a public servant; he was a judge, jury, and executioner who inflicted private "cleansing" on those he deemed evil.
Representing Wakasa Life Insurance, his Kengan record was flawless: dozens of wins, zero losses. He had secured over twenty billion yen in assets for his firm. He was a pillar of the first-line corporate fighters.
In another potential timeline—the Kengan Annihilation Tournament—Akoya would dismantle a giant called the "Destroyer" in the first round, only to fall to the technical genius of Cosmo Imai in the second.
Ren Shiroki scrolled through his mental files as he sat on the stone steps, enjoying the evening breeze. The Association Referee had left to perform the ring inspection.
A few minutes later, the friends Ren had been waiting for arrived.
Nozomi Tenma, CEO of Valkyrie; Hana Mitani, Patriarch of the Jinguji-gumi; and a striking new face.
The newcomer was a woman with short-cropped white hair, roughly the same age as Nozomi. She was tall, with a physique that was both elegant and dangerous. Her look was pure "Underworld Chic."
A black leather patch covered her left eye. Beneath her right eye was a subtle, intricate tattoo of snake scales. A silver piercing glinted at the left corner of her mouth—two small rings that looked like fangs. She wore a sleeveless top that exposed her toned shoulders and a moth-wing tattoo across her chest.
She radiated a cocktail of "Beauty" and "Madness."
"Yo, Ren-kun."
Nozomi waved, introducing her friend. "This is my childhood best friend, An Sakurai."
"You share a surname with Arisa-chan. Quite a coincidence, right?"
Nozomi smiled. "She looks like she just crawled out of a nightmare, I know. But she's been an Underground Doctor for years. She's an honors graduate from Teito University Medical School. Her surgical skills are... legendary."
"I figured she'd be the perfect candidate for the Hub's permanent medical wing."
Ren stepped forward to shake An's hand. He could smell the sharp, clean scents of formaldehyde and surgical disinfectant. They exchanged cards.
Following the model of the Shinshinkai, a high-level Dojo needed elite medical support to ensure the safety and longevity of its members. Since the Soul Combat Hub operated in the "Grey Zone," a traditional doctor wouldn't work. They needed a specialist from the shadows.
"A pleasure, Ren-kun."
An tilted her head. She stuck out her tongue, revealing it had been surgically bifurcated—a split, forked tongue that flickered with a lizard-like movement.
"I don't care much for money," she said, her tone clinical yet playful. "If you want to hire me, you need to offer me something... 'Delicious.'"
"Nozomi offered me an interest-ing bait: the chance to study the biology of Hina Hongo. That's a good start."
"But what about you, Ren-kun? What is your price?"
An's single visible eye locked onto Ren's forehead. Her pupils dilated with excitement.
"I've heard rumors of a brain that recovered from terminal CTE in fourteen days. I've heard of a youth who can manual-override his own nervous system. Ren-kun... will you let me open up your skull so I can see how you work?"
"..."
Ren had been warned by Nozomi about An's quirks.
An Sakurai suffered from a profound case of Thanatophobia—the fear of death. Because of her genius, she had been obsessed with mortality since she was a child. She had entered medical school to find a cure for death itself.
But she had gone too far. She was caught stealing cadavers for "Resurrection Research"—a modern-day Ed Gein. She was permanently stripped of her medical license and erased from the academic records.
Still, her talent was real. She was whispered to be the only person who could repair Nozomi's detached retina.
Ren looked at the gym entrance. "Since you're an outcast, I assume you have trouble sourcing high-end pharmaceuticals and restricted surgical hardware, don't you?"
"Tonight's Kengan match isn't for a purse. It's for a Medical Sponsorship for the Hub."
An's expression turned skeptical. "Logistics are a headache, sure. but I can usually hustle what I need. Standard sponsorship doesn't interest me."
"It's not standard," Ren said, gesturing for them to follow him downstairs.
They entered the basement level. It was a cavernous space, poorly lit and smelling of damp concrete, but the center was a professional octagon.
A crowd of roughly a hundred high-stakes gamblers and underworld figures had already gathered, whispering about the night's two-card lineup.
Ren scanned the VIP area and locked onto a specific target. "That man," Ren pointed. "He is the Chairman of the corporation I'm fighting tonight."
The group followed his finger. An's eye immediately lit up.
Standing near the ring was a short, stout middle-aged man in an expensive charcoal suit. He had bushy eyebrows and a mop of curly, unkempt hair.
No one in the medical world was ignorant of that face. He appeared at every new drug launch, every patent registration, and every medical board gala.
The man was Heihachi Furumi, the Chairman of Furumi Pharmaceuticals—the largest medical conglomerate in the world.
"Aha! Now that is bait!"
An's face flushed with a manic joy.
If the Hub secured a sponsorship with Furumi, it wouldn't just be "gear." It would be access to restricted experimental drugs, military-grade recovery tanks, and cutting-edge biotech that no amount of black-market money could buy.
An nudged Nozomi with her elbow. "Nozomi-chan, your friend is a godsend. If he gets me a direct line to Furumi, I'm his for life."
"And with those resources... I can fix your eyes by next Thursday."
Nozomi, however, looked worried.
"Ren-kun... the pharmaceutical firm's fighter. Do you know who he is?"
As a veteran of the pits, Nozomi knew the Kengan elite. Furumi Pharmaceuticals had a primary fighter who was a living nightmare: Wakatsuki Takeshi, known as the "Wild Tiger." He was a monster who had won over 300 matches and secured trillions in assets.
Is Ren-kun fighting a god tonight?
Ren met with Heihachi Furumi in the center of the room. They shook hands and exchanged cards. Furumi looked surprisingly jolly for a man whose firm was about to engage in corporate warfare.
"Wait! Excuse me!"
Nozomi hurried over, offering a polite bow to the Chairman. "Nabemi-san... I have to ask. Is your fighter for tonight the Wild Tiger?"
Ren and Furumi shared a laugh.
"No, no," Furumi chuckled, waving a hand. "I've already agreed to the 'Investment' into the Soul Combat Hub. Chairman Nogi spoke very highly of Ren-kun's potential. I'm not here to crush a business partner."
"The Wild Tiger only comes out for the main events. Tonight's match is a 'Technical Assessment' between firms."
Furumi looked at Ren with an eager glint in his eyes.
"Tonight, we settle the terms of the sponsorship: the quantity of recovery tanks, the price-point of the drug shipments, and the exclusivity of the Hub's contract. We're gambling on the 'Wholesale Value.'"
"But Ren-kun... don't think I'm handing this over for free. I'm a senior member of the Association. I don't believe in rigging the deck."
Furumi patted Ren's shoulder.
"The man representing Furumi tonight is an elite who just left Iwami Heavy Industries."
"Hong Xiao-hu, the master of the Extreme Will Fist!"
"His record is 35 wins and 1 loss. His only defeat was against the Fang of Metsudo. He's one of the few men in history to lose to the Fang and still have the 'Spirit' to seek a rematch."
Furumi gave Ren a wink. "If you lose to him, I'm going to have a very long talk with Nogi about his taste in fighters!"
Ren grinned. "Nice! Simply perfect!"
The Locker Room.
A few yards away, a man with lean, sharp features and a powerful physique was finishing his warm-up.
This was Hong Xiao-hu.
He had a thin smile on his face, but his eyes were empty of kindness. He knew exactly what Furumi was doing. He was being used as a "Gatekeeper" to test a rookie in a match that "didn't matter."
Furumi was disrespecting him.
I'll slaughter the kid, Hong thought, his knuckles cracking. Then I'll slaughter the Wild Tiger. And then... I'll take the Fang's head.
Creeeeak.
The locker room door was slowly pushed open.
Hong turned. "I'm not ready for the walk-out yet. Get out."
He stopped. Standing in the doorway was a tall Westerner with shaggy blonde hair. He had a peculiar, black-textured scar that covered his entire left ear, tapering into a sharp point.
The stranger's pupils rotated, locking onto Hong. He let out a raspy, taunting whisper.
"DIE, PUNK..."
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