CHAPTER 44: "NI HAO, XIE XIE, XIAO LONG BAO"
"EH?!"
"Wait, back up... EHHHH—??!!"
The three women at the table let out a collective, drawn-out cry of disbelief. Their eyes were wide, their expressions flickering between shock and pure envy.
What had they just heard?
"I have ten million yen in cash and don't know how to spend it?"
Was this what "Rich People Problems" sounded like?
What happened to the "Loser Squad Solidarity"? Was there a traitor among the stray dogs?!
"Ssss..."
Ichika Iori threw her arms around Nozomi and Hana, pulling them into a tight huddle. The three of them began to whisper frantically.
"Oi, Nozomi. Who the hell is this Shiroki Ren guy?" Ichika hissed, glancing at Ren over her shoulder. "Where did you pick up a sugar daddy like this?"
"I met him at the Stray Dog arena!" Nozomi whispered back, her sobriety returning in a rush. "He's an underground fighter. He's clearly high-level, but he claims he doesn't have a stable promoter."
"Strong as hell but unattached? He's a 'Free Agent'?" Ichika analyzed. "A guy like that has to be a big deal. I've heard that the top-tier circuits—like Kengan or Purgatory—have a few legendary fighters who refuse to sign contracts. They just show up, crush everyone, and leave."
Hana Mitani's eyes widened. "Wait, you think he's a 'Cloud-Tier' pro? Like, a world-class monster?"
"It's possible! The top ranks are full of weirdos..."
Nozomi swallowed hard, turned back to Ren, and gave a stiff, awkward wave. "Yo... Ren-kun? Or should I say... Boss?"
Ren: "..."
Thanks to Fusui Kure, every time he heard the word "Boss," he felt like his bank account was about to be drained.
It was obvious that these three "Stray Dogs" were in desperate need of a financial miracle to flip their luck.
Seeing Ren's lack of reaction, Ichika—the disgraced cop who was never above a bit of "extra-curricular" income—felt her gears turning.
She gave Hana a sharp nudge with her elbow. "Oi, Hana-chan. You used to be a hostess before you took over the family, right? Go on! Use those feminine charms! Secure the funding!"
"I was a 'Classy Hostess,' not a street walker..." Hana whispered back, her face turning beet-red. She stole a glance at Ren, actually considering the idea for a split second, before shaking her head vigorously.
"No way! I've seen enough customers to know the type. Shiroki-san is... unmovable. He's not the kind of guy you can 'hustle.'"
Ichika sighed, giving up on the plan. She looked at Ren with genuine curiosity. "So, Ren-kun... are you one of those 'Ascetic Warriors'? Is your life just 24/7 training?"
"No. Not exactly."
Ren thought about it seriously. "There are martial artists who believe that 'Every Breath is Training.' They only leave their 'Warrior State' a few times a day. But I can't do that."
"Drinking, wandering the streets, worrying about debt, enjoying a good purchase... these 'meaningless' things are what make life real. If training is all you have, you're just a machine."
"I want to experience the world, feel the weight of it, and then channel all of that into my fist. That's the key."
Hana and Ichika shared a look of confusion. They didn't quite get the philosophy, but it sounded impressive. Only Nozomi—the fighter who refused to give up despite her injury—felt a spark of understanding.
"His mindset... it really is 'Top-Tier' material," she thought.
Nozomi stretched her arms and pulled more beers from the bucket. "Whatever! Philosophy is for people with full stomachs! Tonight, we drink!"
A martial artist must train hard, but they must also live hard.
The second round of drinks began. Since all four of them were connected to the underworld in different ways—police, Yakuza, and fighting—the conversation was fascinating. They traded intel on the latest police crackdowns, Yakuza power shifts, and rumors of the underground arenas.
As the night hit its peak, Ichika grabbed an unopened beer. Instead of looking for an opener, she tapped the cap against a chopstick with a sharp clack.
POP!
The cap flew off, arcing through the air like a projectile.
"..."
"OI!"
A sharp shout from the neighboring table cut through their laughter.
The group turned to see a young woman wearing a stylish beret, a long-sleeved blouse, and a pleated skirt. She had long black hair and was currently shoveling Mapo Tofu into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in a week.
Or at least, she was eating. Until a beer cap landed right in the center of her tofu.
Clack!
The girl slammed her chopsticks onto the table. She didn't turn around, but her shoulders were shaking with suppressed rage. "Watch where you throw your garbage! Do you think you're the only people in this restaurant?!"
"Hah?" Ichika's "Bad Cop" temper flared. She prepared to give the brat a piece of her mind, but Hana quickly pressed her back into her seat.
"Calm down, Ichika. Tokyo is too tense right now. Let's not start a brawl."
Hana stood up, walked to the neighboring table, and bowed politely. "Our sincerest apologies. It was an accident. Allow me to order you a fresh plate of Mapo Tofu and some side dishes on our tab."
"..."
The girl's anger vanished instantly at the mention of free food. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't let it happen again." She went back to eating with renewed gusto.
Ren and Nozomi shared a look. They both recognized that face.
It was Yuzuha Li.
She had clearly finished her match, collected her meager winnings, and bolted to the nearest Chinese restaurant to end her fast.
"Oh? It's you!"
Yuzuha looked up and spotted Ren. She recognized him as the man who had coached her from the sidelines.
"You should have said something! We're basically acquaintances. What a small world," Yuzuha said, her tone much friendlier now.
Hana blinked. "Acquaintance? Is she a foreigner?"
Ichika, using the absolute limit of her Chinese vocabulary, raised a hand. "Yo! Ni hao! Xie xie! Xiao long bao!"
Yuzuha Li: "..."
She was used to the "clueless Japanese tourist" routine. She ignored the cop and focused on Ren. She owed him a debt for that tactical advice.
Acquaintances meant a merged table. The group of four became five.
Since they were all "Underworld People," there was no need for masks. Yuzuha recounted her recent streak of bad luck. It matched Ren's intel perfectly: the Zanshi-gumi's collapse had ruined her finances, and her gambling habit had finished the job.
"DAMN IT!"
Yuzuha slammed the table. "I lost everything because of that Zanshi-gumi mess! The boss got involved in some high-stakes gamble he couldn't afford, lost his shirt, and the whole family dissolved."
"Idiot. If you can't pay the stake, don't play the game!"
Ren cleared his throat. "Didn't you lose the rest of your money on horse racing?"
Yuzuha looked at him with total conviction. "Yes, but I paid for those tickets! That's the difference!"
Ren: "..."
Right. My bad.
Ren wondered if Arisa was having a more "normal" evening with Marco. Wait... Arisa and Marco... that's probably not normal at all.
As Ren's mind drifted, Nozomi frowned, piecing together the timeline.
"The Zanshi-gumi was destroyed by a gamble? That's weird..."
She looked at the group. "The organization I was with—Stray Dog—is also on the verge of bankruptcy. Our Yakuza backers got set up in a high-stakes match a few days ago. They lost a massive payout, and someone apparently died."
"Two different syndicates destroyed by 'Gambles' in the same week? That smells like a pattern."
Ren's brow furrowed. "That is strange."
"Oh?" The women looked at him. "You know something, Ren-kun?"
Ren took a sip of his beer and nodded. "I destroyed the Zanshi-gumi. But I have no idea who took out the Stray Dog guys."
The Table: "..."
The Table: "...Eh?"
The statement was so absurdly bold that they assumed he was just drunk. But Ichika, the cop, went quiet. She knew things the others didn't.
"Actually... Nozomi might be onto something. I'll tell you girls, but don't let this leave the table."
Ichika's expression went stone-cold.
"HQ has intel that a foreign syndicate codenamed 'IDEAL' has moved operatives into Tokyo. Their goal is the hostile takeover of the local underground networks."
"Hana, you'd better keep your head down. They aren't interested in small fry like the Jinguji-gumi yet, but if they start cleaning house, they won't care who gets caught in the crossfire."
Ichika lit a cigarette and sighed. "The underworld is getting messy."
"So, Shiroki-kun... if you're looking to invest that ten million, you might want to find some partners who can help you navigate the storm."
Ren gave a non-committal nod.
But internally, he was already calculating. He was about to become a Kengan Association Member. In that world, money wasn't just for spending—it was the fuel for the war. To be a "Player," he needed a company. And to have a company, he needed a staff he could trust.
He looked around the table. A disgraced fighter, a corrupt cop, a Yakuza matriarch, and a Kung Fu genius.
"Well... it's certainly a diverse recruitment pool."