Years of brutal underworld experience had given Nishiyama Heita an instinct for reading people. With a single glance, he could tell who was truly strong and who was just putting on a front.
That instinct had kept him alive—literally.
The past two decades had seen Japan's rapid development, but also waves of social unrest. Radicals hurled Molotovs at police in the streets, while just a few alleys away, yakuza were busy hacking each other up with blades.
Time and again, Nishiyama Heita had escaped the jaws of death by trusting this instinct—always spotting the strongest in a fight, always taking down the leader first.
So when the young man before him had recited that cryptic haiku, Nishiyama already knew: this boy was dangerous.
But instinct alone wasn't enough. True strength came from both spirit and skill. And Nishiyama didn't believe for a second that the four men he'd brought would lose to this boy.
Even now, with only Bandō left standing, Nishiyama was confident Bandō could win.
After all, yakuza valued more than raw strength—they cared about face.
Since Kiryu Chiyoko hadn't joined the fight, Nishiyama had stayed out as well.
If he jumped in now, even if they won, it wouldn't look good.
Imagine the rumors: It took the Nishiyama-gumi's wakagashira and the boss himself, two-on-one, to beat a young assistant instructor from a washed-up dojo.
Such disgrace wouldn't just tarnish Nishiyama-gumi—it would embarrass their parent group, the Kanto Union's affiliated Kojima-gumi, too.
No—Bandō had to win alone.
And if he failed, the shame would fall on him alone.
Now, with Bandō sprawled on the floor, it looked like his little finger—and his wakagashira title—were both as good as gone. The yakuza world was ruthless. One mistake, one failure, and you faced a hell without end.
That was true for Bandō, and it was true for Nishiyama Heita as well.
But even now, Nishiyama had no intention of losing.
When it came to resolve, he was certain he could match this boy, Kiryu Kazuma.
And as for technique? He might be lacking a bit, but experience could close that gap.
Don't underestimate the value of street-fighting experience!
Nishiyama stepped forward.
Their bamboo swords clashed in midair.
The impact was so loud it seemed one of the swords must've snapped.
Pressing forward, Nishiyama brushed past Kazuma—their bodies crossed and parted again in an instant.
Nishiyama's back was to Kazuma now, his shoulder throbbing with sharp pain.
He'd been hit—but he was certain he'd landed a blow as well.
Whirling around, he found the boy already charging in again.
Two sharp clashes rang out in quick succession, echoing through the dojo like gunshots.
Nishiyama's right wrist burned—he'd taken a hard hit—but he'd also left a visible bruise on Kazuma's shoulder blade.
Most of my boys would've been rolling on the ground by now, Nishiyama thought. But this kid...
Kazuma didn't cry out. Didn't even flinch.
His face was filled only with the hunger for victory—and a righteous fury at the injustice forced upon him.
Nishiyama knew that look all too well. He'd worn it himself, years ago, when he'd first stepped into this unforgiving world.
Looking at the boy now was like seeing his younger self.
Unable to hold back, he asked, "Have you even thought about what happens next? Drawing swords on the yakuza without thinking—your life's going to be hell. You'll end up under another gang, a pawn, a hired thug..."
"Hah! Don't make me laugh!" Kazuma's voice rang out. "What good would joining the yakuza do? Look at yourself! You strut around, but in the end, you're just some lackey doing dirty work for others."
"You're no different than a pawn.
"But me? I'm going to take you down! Then I'll take down the next group they send! And in the end, I'll force those fat pigs at Sumitomo Construction to pay the full price for my dojo!
"I'll use that money to launch my future—to rise to the top!"
His words rang out with conviction, and in that moment, the air around him seemed to sharpen.
Nishiyama burst out laughing.
So alike—he's exactly like the foolish young Nishiyama Heita of the past.
Well then—time to teach him how cruel the world really was.
Nishiyama let go of his bamboo sword with his left hand, raising the weapon one-handed.
At the same time, he slipped his left hand into his pocket and pulled out a spring-loaded knife.
With a press of a button—click—the blade shot out.
Nishiyama had never cared much for rules. His kendo was a mishmash of techniques, borrowed from here and there, utterly unorthodox.
But so what?
In a street fight, anything could be a weapon. That's how you won.
With a roar, Nishiyama charged.
"You're cheating!" Kazuma shouted.
"If I wanted to cheat, I'd have jumped you with Bandō already!" Nishiyama bellowed back. "I never said this was a kendo match!
"Kid—never! Ever! Trust a yakuza's sense of honor!"
With that warning, he lunged at Kazuma.
**
Kazuma knew things had taken a turn for the worse.
Just moments ago, in pure kendo, Nishiyama hadn't been able to gain the upper hand.
If things had stayed that way, Kazuma was pretty sure he'd have won.
But now, with a knife in play, this was no longer kendo.
This was street fighting—and Nishiyama's Street Brawling stat was Level 11, far beyond Kazuma's Shintō-ryū skills.
Sure enough, in their first clash, Kazuma took a shallow cut on his hand. The searing pain shot straight to his brain, threatening to shake his focus.
From behind, Chiyoko shouted, "Onii-chan! I'll help!"
Since Nishiyama had broken the rules first by drawing a knife, a two-on-one might actually be justified.
But Kazuma barked, "Stay back! This is my fight!"
"But—!"
"Stay back!" he shouted again.
Even through his rage and pain-clouded mind, Kazuma's thoughts remained sharp.
He remembered what the detective had said earlier: As long as no one dies, the police will turn a blind eye.
As long as no one dies.
Kazuma locked eyes with Nishiyama.
He made a decision.
"Chiyoko! Get to the door! If I'm killed, run and find a police officer!"
"Eh?" Chiyoko froze.
Kazuma shouted, "You have to live! No matter what—live, Chiyoko!"
If there was a witness, the police would have to get involved. Japan had a witness protection program. If it came to that, Chiyoko would be safe.
As for Kazuma himself—
He was betting that after hearing his words, Nishiyama wouldn't dare to actually kill him.
He decided to drop his guard against the knife.
It was the only path to victory.
He lowered into a Gatotsu stance and lunged forward.
Marching toward death—reaching for that single thread of life!
Kazuma didn't know where this courage came from.
He wasn't some fearless hero in his past life. He'd lived in a peaceful country, never even had the chance to act bravely.
Was it because of his bond with Chiyoko?
Didn't seem likely. He liked her, sure—but not enough to die for her.
So why?
Maybe... everyone has a hero inside them. And when the moment truly comes, that hero wakes up.
He thought of history—how the Japanese had once believed the Chinese people would meekly submit, only to find themselves facing a nation of countless heroes.
Maybe it's like that.
As he charged, Kazuma saw the knife coming.
But he felt no fear. His body was moving on instinct, the technique fully in control.
—Guess my new life's ending after less than three weeks.
—Oh well. At least I got to be a real hero once.
Then Chiyoko's voice rang out: "Hand!"
She still called out targets like in kendo.
The knife went flying.
At the same moment, the sakigawa of Kazuma's bamboo sword slammed into Nishiyama's chest.
Nishiyama staggered back several steps—but somehow managed to stay on his feet.
"You—!" he roared. "That's against the way of the sword!"
Chiyoko shouted back, "And you have the nerve to talk about the way of the sword?!"
Kazuma was about to tell her to stay back again—after all, at her level, she'd only be a liability in this fight.
But—wait. Nishiyama's knife was gone.
Scanning the scene, Kazuma saw the blade had landed far away. Now, aside from his bamboo sword, Nishiyama had no other weapon.
This was a dojo, after all—pretty empty.
A terrain advantage!
Like how Zeon's aquatic mobile suits rule underwater—but get wrecked in space!
They couldn't give Nishiyama time to grab a weapon or escape.
Kazuma shouted, "Chiyoko! Less talking—let's finish this!"
(End of Chapter)