CHAPTER 61: THE END OF THE ACT
Both Ren Shiroki and Kaoru Hanayama were monuments to trauma. Their skin was a tapestry of lacerations, and the pavement beneath them was stained a deep, wet crimson.
Ren's right calf was a ruin of shredded muscle and splintered bone. Hanayama's throat was crushed, his neck locked in a rigid, agonizing tilt as he struggled to pull a single molecule of oxygen into his lungs.
The sight was so gruesome that several patrons at the windows turned away, physically nauseated.
"His face is turning purple!"
"The other one is a walking corpse! Enough! Someone stop them!"
The noise of the city and the crowd blurred into static. But the "Insiders"—Nozomi, Kizaki, Hina, and Yuzuha—remained silent. They didn't see two men dying. They saw two souls vibrating with a terrifying, beautiful joy.
Through the masks of blood and pain, the eyes of both warriors were glowing.
They were happy.
A primal, soul-deep exhilaration for the next strike, for the "Now," and for the man standing across from them.
WHOOSH!
The distance closed. Hanayama wound up his right arm for one final, terminal "Cannonball" punch.
But in that microsecond—
ZIP!
Ren Shiroki's right hand blurred. He didn't throw a fist. He extended his index finger in a rigid, spear-like "Flicker Strike," driving it upward into the underside of Hanayama's jaw.
[JAMIE: CELESTIAL PINPOINT]!
CRACK!
The impact on the mandible sent a high-frequency shockwave directly into Hanayama's cranium. It was like a giant hand had grabbed the Boss's brain and given it a violent, rapid-fire shake. The gray matter collided with the interior of his skull.
Instant Concussion.
Hanayama's wind-up hitched. The oxygen deprivation and the sudden neurological "reboot" caused his muscles to go slack for a split second.
Ren didn't have enough gas left for a "technique." He didn't even have the strength to aim. He simply held his breath, channeled every remaining spark of his life force, and launched a frantic, uncoordinated barrage.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
Punches, elbows, and knees rained down on Hanayama's chest and face. Hanayama stood like a mountain in a storm, his eyes vacant but his feet still anchored to the earth.
Ren was empty. He had nothing left to give. He gritted his teeth, leaned his entire body weight forward, and tackled the giant with a desperate, lunging shoulder-check.
CRASH!
The two of them tumbled backward together, crashing through the glass storefront of the first-floor lounge.
The sound of the shattering window echoed through the alley. When the dust settled, the street was empty. The two monsters had vanished into the building.
"BOSS!"
"REN-KUN!"
Kizaki and Nozomi were the first to move, sprinting for the stairs. The rest of the Valkyrie squad and the curious patrons followed, scrambling down to the ground floor to witness the finale of the world's most expensive brawl.
They rounded the corner into the lounge and stopped dead.
There, on two plush leather sofas facing each other, sat Ren and Hanayama.
They looked like they had been dropped there by a crane. Neither had the strength to move a finger.
Between them sat a low mahogany coffee table displaying various high-end spirits for the patrons. Bottles of beer and bourbon were lined up like soldiers.
"..."
Ren's hand shook as he reached out. His fingers brushed against a bottle of Wild Turkey—Hanayama's favorite.
Hanayama waited several seconds for his throat to clear enough to swallow. He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers closing around a light, crisp Sapporo Beer—the kind Ren preferred.
They both cracked their respective drinks and looked at each other.
Ren's voice was a dry, pained rasp. He let out a weary chuckle. "Well... they're right here. It would be a waste not to... finish the conversation..."
Hanayama couldn't speak. His throat was a mass of purple bruises. But he gave a slow, deliberate nod and a tiny smirk.
They raised their bottles in a silent toast and drank.
Gulp... gulp...
"Cough! HACK!"
Ren swallowed the bourbon and immediately went into a coughing fit, tears pricking his eyes. "Dammit! So... spicy!"
Hanayama held the beer in his mouth, savoring the bubbles, before swallowing with a wince of pain.
They looked at each other's miserable expressions. Ren burst out into a wheezing laugh. Hanayama's shoulders began to shake in a silent, rhythmic tremor of amusement.
"Haha... ha..."
Ren's laughter faded first. His eyes drifted shut, and he slumped back into the sofa, unconscious.
Hanayama watched him for a second. The 70% alcohol-buzz and the 30% total exhaustion finally merged. His head rolled back, and the Boss of the Hanayama-gumi drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The spectators watched from the doorway in a reverent hush.
"Magnificent..."
Kizaki was the first to break the silence. He began to clap, a slow, heavy applause. "That was a beautiful scrap!"
The crowd joined in, their cheers and whistles filling the lounge.
"A DRAW!"
"Incredible! I've never seen anything like it!"
"WHAT A FIGHT!"
As the curtain fell, Nozomi Tenma finally allowed herself to breathe.
Valkyrie's future was uncertain, but for now, everyone was alive. The priority was logistics. She turned to the crowd. "Someone call the paramedics! We need two ambulances and a lot of ice, now!"
As the sirens began to wail in the distance, a row of black-and-whites pulled up to the curb.
The "Official" world was arriving to clean up the mess.
Kizaki and Ichika Iori stepped out to meet them. Between the high-ranking Yakuza enforcer and the Juvenile Division detective, the "narrative" of the night was quickly smoothed over.
"I've got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me," Ichika grumbled, watching the stretchers being loaded. She looked at Nozomi.
"The Commissioner just buzzed me. He wants a face-to-face about Hina Hongo. He's terrified of those missing chemical weapons. I'll handle the brass, but keep that pink-haired monster on a short leash, okay?"
"Also... Hanayama-gumi business is yours to settle once the Boss wakes up. Talk to Hana."
"And Ren-kun's project? That's on you, too."
Ichika lit a cigarette and sighed. "Man... being a 'Beautiful Person' is exhausting."
Nozomi nodded, rubbing her aching temples. She looked at the white van, at the blood on the pavement, and at her friends.
She felt like she had just stepped off a cliff. But just like Ren's punch, there was no going back now. They had to keep moving until they reached the top.
Four Days Later.
Ren and Hanayama had been discharged from the hospital. Both were wrapped in enough gauze and plaster to resemble mummies, but their recovery rates were bordering on the supernatural.
Ren sat in his yard, enjoying the quiet. He hadn't been idle. Using his phone, he had been coordinating the first phase of the Combat Hub reconstruction.
On the morning of his return, his first purchase was delivered.
He stood at the gate, bracing a heavy wooden sign into the dirt.
[SOUL COMBAT HUB: SC CENTER]
It wasn't an official corporation yet, but it had a name. It was a flag planted in the ground.
"Hoo...!"
Ren stepped back, admiring the sign. He felt a surge of adrenaline, the "Spirit" of his masters humming in his mind. The wound on his leg twinged, but the pain felt like a badge of honor.
"Onii-chan! Guests!" Arisa called from the porch.
Ren turned to see three people walking up the street.
Nozomi Tenma and Hina Hongo were in the lead. Walking behind them was a tall, lean man with wild, salmon-pink hair tied back in a ponytail. He had a handsome, friendly face, but his most striking feature was a jagged horizontal scar that crossed the bridge of his nose and extended under both eyes.
He looked bright and cheerful, carrying a gift basket.
"Yo, Ren-kun!"
Nozomi waved. "Hospital food sucks, right? I brought some reinforcements! And a specialist to check your progress."
She gestured to the man with the pink hair.
"This is Mitsuyo Kureishi. He's a former senior from my old dojo... and quite possibly the best Bone Setter in the country."