CHAPTER 85: KATSUMI OROCHI
On the observation deck, everyone craned their necks upward.
The side door of the hovering helicopter slid open, revealing the man inside.
He had short, neatly styled black hair and a face composed of hard, masculine lines—sharp features, a strong jaw, and piercingly intelligent eyes. He was what people would call a "Classic Beauty" of the martial arts world.
He wore a pristine white karategi, cinched at the waist with a heavy, frayed black belt. His sleeves were rolled high, exposing forearms that looked like gnarled oak.
Even from his crouched position, his physique was undeniable. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist—a perfect "V-taper" with muscle groups defined like a marble sculpture. His legs, visible beneath the heavy fabric of his gi, were long and radiated explosive potential.
One detail stood out above all else. Stitched in bold calligraphy on the left breast of his gi were the characters for: HEADQUARTERS — SHINSHINKAI.
There was no mistake. This man shared a lineage with Atsushi Suedo. He was an elite of the Shinshinkai inner circle.
"The... Second-Generation Head?"
Kaede Akiyama's brow furrowed. Leadership changes in massive martial arts organizations were considered vital corporate intelligence. She had heard the whispers.
The founder of the Shinshinkai, the legendary "God of War" Doppo Orochi, had recently stepped down into a semi-retired advisory role. He had handed the keys of the world's largest Karate organization to his foster son—a twenty-one-year-old prodigy.
Kaede stared at the chopper. "Is that really him? In the flesh?"
Suedo crossed his arms, a look of profound respect on his face. "That's him. The one and only."
Seeing Ren Shiroki's eyes light up with a competitive fire, Suedo felt the need to offer a warning.
"Oi, Shiroki. Don't let your win against me go to your head. You haven't seen Shinshinkai Karate until you've seen his."
Martial artists were simple creatures; once they had bled together, the social barriers dissolved. Suedo found Ren's "friendly" attitude a bit much, but he couldn't bring himself to hate the youth who had hit him so perfectly.
"The Master's son... Katsumi-san... was groomed from birth to be the ace of the world stage. But then the Master sent him to the Underground Arena to face the real monsters."
Suedo was a man who rarely yielded, but his admiration for his leader was absolute.
"Katsumi Orochi—our General—his Karate isn't on my level. It's not even on the same planet."
"He is the Ultimate Karateka. He is the Final Weapon of the school!"
Gulp.
Kaede swallowed hard. She didn't need the lecture. The Shinshinkai had over a million active members worldwide. To sit at the top of a hierarchy that large, a man had to be more than just "skilled." He had to be a god of violence.
The helicopter began its final descent toward the helipad. The group on the observation deck hurried down the service stairs to meet him on the main deck.
When the chopper was still several meters above the deck, Katsumi Orochi stood up. With a casual "Heh," he leaped into the air.
WHAM!
He landed with a thunderous impact, the steel plates of the helipad groaning under his weight, yet he remained perfectly balanced. He looked around and grinned.
"Haha! I heard there was a good scrap waiting for me, so I didn't even bother changing out of my gi!"
Katsumi spotted Suedo immediately and raised a hand in a casual wave. "Oi, Suedo! Don't tell me you let the news of this get out? If the media finds out I'm on a Teiai boat, the Old Man will have my head!"
Suedo gave a dry laugh, but before he could speak, Katsumi was already in his space, slinging an arm around his shoulder and chuckling.
"I heard you were here training yourself. Hardworking as always! But word on the deck is you took a loss? Hahaha! Katou is going to laugh his ass off when I tell him! 'The Destroyer' got destroyed!"
Suedo sighed, used to his leader's playfulness. Once Katsumi was done teasing him, Suedo finally got a word in. "General... why are you here? Really?"
Katsumi released him, his expression turning a bit more thoughtful. "My father sent me."
"Master Doppo?"
"Yeah," Katsumi explained. "After that tournament in the Tokyo Dome, I couldn't sit still. I needed to test my new theories on Karate against some fresh blood. I told the Old Man, and he pulled some strings. Apparently, he's old drinking buddies with the former Leader of Kakerou."
"He said Kakerou handles the 'High-End' stuff. I figured, hey, the world is a big place. Tokugawa-oji-san isn't the only one running a deathmatch circuit."
Katsumi scanned the group. He looked at Marco, then Kyara, then the Referees, and finally settled on Ren. His smile widened. "And from the looks of it, there are plenty of monsters here who weren't at the Dome..."
Kaede Akiyama studied Katsumi Orochi.
Up close, the "Pressure" he radiated was physical. It wasn't the jagged, scary aura of a Yakuza like Hanayama; it was a perfect, polished "Might." Every muscle looked like it had been tempered in a furnace and then buffed to a mirror shine. He was a masterpiece of biological engineering.
Katsumi noticed Kaede's gaze and gave a wink. "What's this? A beautiful lady looking for an autograph?"
He patted Suedo's back. "Since you're a friend of Suedo's, I'll even give you a discount!"
Suedo groaned. Their "General" had a notoriously flirtatious streak, though he had matured significantly since his defeat at the hands of a certain Chinese Kung Fu master.
Still, no one in the room doubted it: the man in front of them was indeed the Final Weapon of Karate.
"Alright!"
Katsumi put his hands on his hips and turned to the Leader of Kakerou. "You must be the son of my dad's friend. I've seen your photo in the files. So... where's my opponent?"
Souichi Kiruma tilted his head toward Ren.
Katsumi turned. His eyes swept over Ren, noting the blood-stained bandages on his arms and the dirt on his pants.
So this is the kid who dismantled Suedo?
Their eyes met.
No words were exchanged. In a single second, Katsumi reached a verdict: This man could have stood in the ring at the Tokyo Dome. It wasn't just the physical stats; it was the "Scent." The scent of a man who, even when broken and bleeding, would choose to fight on purely because his Will demanded it.
"..."
The silence stretched. Kaede, caught between the two clashing gazes, felt the pressure building. Her forehead was slick with sweat. She backed away toward the ship's railing to find some space.
She took a few deep breaths, but as she looked up, she noticed that neither Ren nor Katsumi had looked away from her. In fact, their eyes were locked on her with a sudden, sharp intensity.
What is it? Why are they both staring at me?!
Kaede froze.
The next microsecond, both Ren and Katsumi lunged forward.
"DON'T MOVE!" they roared in unison.
"!?"
Kaede stood paralyzed.
Ren and Katsumi executed two simultaneous, high-speed sliding dashes. They reached her side in a blur, both launching high-line kicks aimed directly behind her head.
BAM!
The kicks didn't hit Kaede. They struck two pairs of hands that had reached out from the darkness over the ship's railing.
The hands had been inches away from Kaede's throat. Ren's boot caught one elbow; Katsumi's heel caught the other.
A strangled scream of "GAHH!" echoed from the void. The hidden attackers, their faces never seen, were launched off the side of the boat and into the black water below.
Kaede spun around, realized she'd almost been taken hostage, and her knees buckled.
Katsumi looked confused. "A bit scary for a cruise ship, isn't it? What was that?"
Ren looked over the railing. "Mercenaries from the weapons ship."
Madarame Baku stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. "They must have jumped overboard when Kakerou moved in. They've been hiding in the water, waiting for the current to bring them to the hull. They're desperate. They need a hostage to get off the boat before they freeze to death."
The group looked around. A dozen more silhouettes were currently vaulting over the railings at different points of the deck.
They were soaked, shivering, and armed with combat knives. They were cornered rats, and they were ready to bite.
Kyara let out a derisive snort. "Trash. Leftover debris."
The warriors in the room—Ren included—began to settle into their stances. They were ready to sweep the deck.
But before anyone could move, Katsumi Orochi stepped to the front, raising a hand to stop them.
He looked at the approaching mercs, then back at Ren.
"Ren-kun... have you heard of Alexander Gallen?"
"The Russian wrestler from the Dome?" Ren asked.
"Yeah. He was a late entry in the tournament. Because he didn't want to 'Take an Advantage' over the tired fighters, he decided to have a warm-up. He wrestled a fifteen-meter-long anaconda to death with his bare hands before his first match."
Katsumi grinned, a sharp, playful light in his eyes.
"I'm a Shinshinkai man. I have a reputation to maintain."
Katsumi turned to face the dozen armed mercenaries alone. He gave Ren a wink.
"You've already fought twice tonight. I'm fresh. It wouldn't be 'Chivalrous' of me to fight you at 100% while you're at 60%."
"So... let me play with these boys for a few minutes. I need to burn off some of this 'Health' before our match!"