CHAPTER 31: BATTLEFIELD AND BLOODSHED
5th Floor. Office.
"His posture... it changed?"
Yagyo Hikoichi leaned toward the monitor wall, his eyes sharpening as he analyzed Ren Shiroki's shift in body mechanics. The youth was abandoning the linear, disciplined form of Karate for something far more predatory.
Fascinating.
"Pardon me for a moment," Yagyo murmured. He leaned down and casually retrieved the fountain-pen bug from the carpet, tucking it into his breast pocket with a graceful flick of his wrist.
Q-Taro glanced at him. "Hmm? What are you doing, Yagyo-san?"
"I simply dropped my pen. Please, do not let me distract you," Yagyo replied with a polite bow. "Continue."
Q-Taro shrugged, his attention returning to the screens.
Yagyo, however, was deep in thought. A high-frequency pen-bug wasn't something a street urchin carried. This meant Madarame Baku hadn't just stumbled into this gamble; he had planned for it. He knew Q-Taro was a Kakerou member.
But if Baku was broke and powerless, why seek out a mid-tier member? Unless... he wasn't after the membership. He was after something larger. Was the "Lie Eater" planning to challenge the heights once again?
Yagyo narrowed his eyes. Whatever the grand strategy was, everything hinged on the next few minutes. Against a biological weapon like Rodem, "Strategy" meant nothing if you lacked the "Might" to survive the first encounter.
"Hahaha! Yagyo-san, you're quite focused on the boy!"
Q-Taro's raspy voice shattered Yagyo's train of thought. Still irritated by the Referee's high praise of the guests, the old man leaned into his mockery.
"I know a thing or two about combat. That kid was using some variation of Karate earlier, wasn't he?"
"Are you a fan, Yagyo-san? Hah! Perhaps you've spent too much time dealing with the Shinshinkai or the Rokushin Kaikan? Those Karate schools are famous, sure, and Kakerou probably has contracts with them."
Q-Taro's grin turned oily and dark. "But no matter how legendary the Dojo, Karate is still the 'Might of a Human.' It is bound by biology. It cannot stand against Rodem!"
"Don't you agree, Referee?"
"..."
Yagyo didn't answer. He was too busy watching the screen.
Q-Taro, confused by the silence, looked back at the monitor. He finally saw what Yagyo was seeing.
Ren Shiroki had completely abandoned his side-on guard. His hands were wide, fingers splayed like claws. His arms were open, and his legs were planted in a wide, powerful stance.
"Is he... taking up Pro-Wrestling?" Q-Taro blurted out, stunned.
"No," Yagyo corrected him softly. "That is Grappling."
Pro-Wrestling was a theater of violence for entertainment; Grappling was a science of leverage and power for the kill.
But then, Yagyo's brow furrowed. He corrected himself internally.
No... it seems he is using both.
The theatrical dominance of the ring and the cold efficiency of the mat were merging into a single, terrifying style.
"Now!" Yagyo whispered.
On the screen, Rodem obeyed Q-Taro's telepathic command and lunged.
Even through the fish-eye lens of the body camera, the speed was horrifying. Rodem moved like a starved wolf, closing the distance to Ren in a single heartbeat.
In Ren's mind, the static of the "Overdrive" cleared.
Now!
WHOOSH!
Ren exhaled a plume of heat. His front foot slammed into the floor, carrying him forward into Rodem's space. He brought both hands together, fingers locked, and swung them in a descending diagonal arc.
[DRIVE IMPACT: RUSSIAN DOUBLE CHOP]!
THWACK!
The double-handed strike slammed into Rodem's upper arms. It didn't break bone, but the sheer kinetic force caused Rodem's momentum to hitch for a microsecond.
In that window of time, Ren stepped even deeper. He wrapped his massive arms around Rodem's waist, his muscles bulging as he arched his back, throwing his entire center of gravity backward.
[ZANGIEF: CYCLONE SUPLEX]!
BOOM!
Ren was standing with his back to a structural concrete wall. He used it as a backstop. He didn't just throw Rodem; he drove the monster's head directly into the reinforced concrete with the force of a hydraulic press. Rodem's skull was buried three inches deep into the wall.
"GAHH—! RAAAGH!"
Rodem thrashed, his roar vibrating through the floor. With a violent CRUNCH, he tore his head free from the masonry, shards of stone falling like snow. The body camera panned wildly as he spun around to face his attacker.
Ren had already retreated several paces. A fresh trail of blood leaked from his nose, his eyes burning with an unnatural intensity.
Without a word, Ren turned and sprinted toward the stairwell.
"After him, Rodem!" Q-Taro screamed into the radio. "Corner him! Hunt him like the rabbit he is! Don't let him reach the roof!"
Yagyo watched Ren's "retreat" with a thoughtful hum. "Is he really running?"
"Hah?" Q-Taro snapped. "What else would it be?"
"Perhaps..." Yagyo gave a small, cryptic smile. "Perhaps he's just warming up."
"Nonsense!" Q-Taro spat. "The boy changed his style, but that's all. Wrestling? Grappling? It's just a monkey show! This isn't a tournament, Referee! This is a death game in my house! Biology doesn't matter when you're facing a machine!"
Ren and Rodem tore through the building, two blurs of motion returning to the sixth floor.
Ren finally skidded to a halt in the deep interior of the floor. He was drenched in sweat, his heart hammering a war drum against his ribs.
But he felt... incomplete. The "Synchronization" wasn't perfect yet.
Zangief and Ryu were only "Masters" showing him the way; they weren't possessing him. He had to translate their impossible movements into his own mortal flesh. As he ran, his mind had been processing the massive Russian's footwork, trying to find the rhythm.
He stood his ground, waiting for the monster to round the corner.
Seconds passed. Rodem didn't appear.
Ren's brow furrowed. Where is he?
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
A curtain of lead erupted from the far end of the hallway. Rodem had picked up a discarded submachine gun. He wasn't interested in a duel; he was executing a target.
In that moment, Ren realized the gravity of his mistake. This wasn't a Dojo. This wasn't a Kengan match. This is a blood bath.
SHING!
Ren dove behind a concrete pillar, bullets chipping the edges of the stone just inches from his head.
As the gunfire paused to reload, a chill of pure terror crawled up Ren's spine.
He peered out and saw a flash of silver. A combat knife, thrown with the force of a ballista bolt, whistled toward his throat.
CLANG!
Ren used a hand-blade strike to bat the knife away, the impact numbing his arm.
But the knife was a distraction. What came next was a pair of heavy combat boots.
Rodem had sprinted into a high-speed jump. He wasn't running; he was flying. He lunged forward with a brutal, two-footed dropkick.
BOOM!
Ren didn't have time to guard. The boots slammed into his chest and face. Under the combined force of Rodem's momentum and monstrous strength, Ren was launched backward.
He crashed through the window behind him.
SHATTER!
Ren was thrown into the empty air, plummeting toward the concrete street six stories below.