CHAPTER 87: THE PRODIGY'S LIE
The sheer, tectonic force of Katsumi's final strike broke the spirit of the remaining mercenaries.
Their momentum vanished instantly. Without their firearms and facing a man who could "mold" a steel shovel into a human face, they turned and fled. Some were caught and launched off the deck by Katsumi's follow-up kicks, while others simply threw themselves into the harbor, choosing the freezing water over the "Might" of the Shinshinkai.
Only two or three remained, desperately circling the perimeter, but their defeat was just a matter of time.
Nearby, the group of observers watched the final cleanup of the deck.
Suddenly, Ren Shiroki's earpiece crackled with a giggle. { Ren-chin! Catch me! }
Ren immediately shifted his stance, bending his knees and taking a deep, anchored breath.
ZIP—!
Fusui Kure plummeted from the darkness of the observation nest. She fell nearly thirty feet, her tactical backpack and sniper rifle adding to her mass, and landed squarely in Ren's waiting arms.
Ren's knees dipped as he absorbed the kinetic energy of the fall, his "Might" acting as a living shock absorber.
"Woo-hoo! I've always wanted to try that!"
Fusui grinned, resting a hand on Ren's shoulder as she prepared to hop down. Suddenly, she noticed Ren's eye twitch, his jaw tightening as if he were suppressing a sharp pain.
"Eh? What's wrong? Am I actually that heavy?"
Fusui felt a twinge of guilt, assuming Ren's previous injuries were flaring up.
But Ren just tilted his head, gesturing downward with his eyes.
Fusui followed his gaze. The barrel of her long-range sniper rifle was sticking out from her pack like a reinforced cane, and it was currently pressed firmly into the bridge of Ren's foot.
Fusui: "..."
Fusui: "Ehehe... oops!"
The girl stuck out her tongue, bracing her hands on Ren's shoulders. She pushed off, executing a one-handed handstand atop his trapezius muscles before flipping through the air and landing gracefully on the deck.
"It was getting boring up there, so I decided to join the party."
Fusui slung her rifle over her shoulder and leaned in close to Ren, her voice dropping to a serious tone.
"Kakerou has secured the weapons ship and the docks. The IDEAL cleaners have been neutralized. The Keisatsu won't be coming—the Club has officially 'privatized' this incident."
"So, if we want to make sure the Leader doesn't try to flip the table on us, I figured being at 'Point-Blank Range' was a better tactical position."
She spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. It was a clear, professional threat.
Joichi Yagyo, the "Sweeper" Referee, narrowed his eyes. He caught the metallic scent of blood coming from Fusui and noted her black-and-white eyes. "A professional cleaner... the Kure Clan?"
"Guilty as charged, Oji-san!"
Fusui's eyes darted toward the Leader of Kakerou, who was leaning against a bulkhead with his hands in his pockets. "I believe Kakerou and the Kure family have a long history of... 'Mutual Understanding.'"
"Indeed," Souichi Kiruma mused, rubbing his chin.
"Baku-san has his ghost, Kyara. The Association has the Kure girl. My 'Judgement' was correct. Accepting a formal Kengan match was the most efficient way to proceed."
"Luck is the reward for perfect calculation," Souichi continued, looking at Ren. "And since I have never made a single error in my life... it is only logical that I have 'Heavenly Destiny' on my side. I will win this match."
"Heh. He certainly doesn't lack for confidence," Fusui whispered to Ren. Then she frowned, her eyes scanning Katsumi Orochi as he finished his workout. "Though... he has a reason to be smug. That Katsumi guy is a total freak."
The veins around her eyes bulged as she triggered her [Removal] to scan the Karateka's physical data.
"185cm. 116kg. The muscle density is insane. His neurological response time is off the charts. He's a biological masterpiece."
Ren listened to Fusui's analysis. Across the deck, Katsumi had finally cornered the last mercenary, lifting the man off the deck by his collar.
"Hah! That was a great warm-up!"
Katsumi looked back at the group. He spotted Fusui and let out a playful whistle.
"Wow, Ren-kun! Does your Dojo have a 'Female Division'? If you have girls that cute and dangerous on staff, I might have to stop by for a 'Cultural Exchange.' My Shinshinkai girls are all terrified of me ever since I got a bit too intense during a demonstration. It's lonely being the Boss!"
Ren didn't laugh. He looked at Katsumi, then signaled to Madarame Baku.
Baku smirked, reaching into his pocket and tossing a pickled plum to Ren.
Ren caught the snack, tore open the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth. The sour-salt explosion hit his tongue, and he finally understood why the Lie Eater liked them. It cleared the head.
Ren looked at Katsumi through half-lidded eyes, mimicking Baku's tone perfectly.
"Katsumi-kun... you're lying."
"Eh?" Katsumi blinked.
Ren gave a sharp, shark-like grin. "If the Shinshinkai really wanted a mixer, I'm sure the Kure Clan would be happy to send a representative. But you don't actually care about that right now, do you?"
"You're just trying to act 'Normal.' You're trying to look like the same cocky prodigy you were before the tournament."
Ren stepped forward, his eyes locking onto the stars in the Karateka's gaze.
"You've had too many breakthroughs lately. You're evolving too fast. Your seniors told you that mastery takes decades, so you're forcing yourself to stay 'Cool' so you don't scare yourself."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "But I can smell it on you, Katsumi-kun. The 'Heat' is leaking out. You're vibrating with excitement!"
Katsumi Orochi stared at Ren. For a long moment, he was silent. Then, he let out a pained, self-deprecating laugh.
"Is it that obvious?"
He dropped the mercenary into the harbor and walked toward Ren, his hands beginning to shake with suppressed adrenaline.
"They call me a genius. Because of that, I always felt... separate. Like no one could see the world the way I do. Like no one could keep up."
"But standing here... facing a guy who can see through my mask as easily as my Old Man? It's a hell of a feeling."
Katsumi stopped in front of Ren.
They were nearly the same height. Their gazes met at eye-level, both sets of eyes glowing with a feral, warrior light. The "Aura" between them became a physical distortion, blurring the background of the ship until they were the only two things left in the universe.
"Not long ago... I had a very bad night," Katsumi whispered.
"I faced the world's greatest brawler—Kaoru Hanayama. I lost to him three times in one night. He shattered my teeth, broke my ribs, and crushed my leg into pulp before I finally found a single opening to take the win."
"And then, I faced Retsu Kaioh. A man who represents four thousand years of Chinese martial history. He put me on the floor with a single strike. A clean, absolute defeat."
Katsumi looked at his own hands, his expression turning solemn.
"That's combat. You pour your soul into the struggle, fighting for the one-inch line between victory and death."
"It might be a messy, ugly win. Or it might be a beautiful, crushing loss. But it's the only time I ever feel Alive."
Katsumi tightened his fists, raising his forearms. He stepped into Ren's space, letting their arms touch in a warrior's greeting.
"Ren-kun... you feel it too, don't you?"
Ren tightened his own fists, meeting Katsumi's arm with his own.
"The kids at my old dojo knew the answer to that before they could even tie their belts."
"...Hahaha!"
Katsumi laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Man, that's embarrassing. I guess I'm just a late bloomer!"