Chapter 270: Keep It Lively
"Hahaha! Ha! Ha!"
Gouki Shibukawa stood at the edge of the octagonal ring, hands on his hips,
letting out a series of satisfied chuckles. He traded a thunderous high-five
with Ren Shiroki, his boisterous laughter echoing through the plaza.
The crowd remained paralyzed. The battle had ended so abruptly, so decisively,
that it took several seconds for the realization of the result to sink in.
A 47kg senior citizen had just systematically dismantled a 315kg giant.
The Kengan referee—showing her professional discipline—grabbed the microphone
and screamed at the top of her lungs to break the silence.
"THE [SAINT OF WAR] VS. THE [GOD OF DESTRUCTION]! 47kg VERSUS 315kg!!"
"THE MASTER, GOUKI SHIBUKAWA—!!"
"He has overcome a weight deficit of nearly seven times! A miracle manifest
before our very eyes! He has conquered the Himalayan Avatar through pure,
unadulterated skill!"
"Fear the Ancient Styles! Tremble before the Secret of Aiki!!"
That was the spark. The plaza erupted into a wall of sound. Spectators leaped to
their feet, cheering and whistling for the seventy-five-year-old Grandmaster.
Shibukawa offered a humble, serene smile. He turned toward the audience and the
various cameras, performing a formal bow of gratitude.
"Ho-ho! I almost forgot we were at a festival. Thank you for the energy, little
lady! The youth of today are truly something else~!"
Shibukawa stepped lightly off the ring, sliding his arms back into his Haori and
replacing his amber-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses. He scanned his surroundings,
walking toward Ren and Sonoda, but his eyes locked onto the towering silhouette
of Erio Kure.
"Oho! Old man Kure!"
Shibukawa beamed. "It's been an age. I was going to find you for tea after the
match, but I see you couldn't resist watching the show yourself!"
The ninety-one-year-old Erio Kure leaned on his cane-sword, his black eyes fixed
on his old acquaintance. "Many years indeed, Gouki. And yet, you haven't aged a
single day."
Shibukawa pouted playfully. "Coming from you? You've got half a graveyard's
worth of children and grandchildren, and you still look better than I do!"
"Heh. Cunning old fox..."
Erio let out a dry, raspy laugh. He raised a hand in invitation. "A 'Saint' is
in my village. I cannot let you go unhosted. Dinner shall be served at the Kure
Main Estate."
Shibukawa didn't mind, but he glanced at Official Sonoda with a mischievous
glint.
"Is this okay, Sonoda-kun?" he whispered. "You're a high-ranking MPD official.
Is it legal for you to be a guest in a family of assassins?"
"I don't know anything about the 'Underworld,' Sensei," Sonoda replied, rubbing
his nose and playing the part of the blissfully ignorant bureaucrat. "Besides,
by the rules of this village, you own that ring now. I'm just following the
host's lead."
"Hahaha! Well put!"
Shibukawa accepted the invite, then turned his gaze toward Ren Shiroki.
"Ren-kun. Motobe-dono stopped by my house recently and mentioned you. Don't you
have anything you want to say to this old man?"
Ren froze. He was still mentally replaying the "Countdown Fist" from the ring,
his mind occupied by technical analysis. He scratched his cheek, looking a bit
sheepish.
"Ah... well... er..."
"Hahaha!"
Shibukawa laughed, reaching into his gi to pull out a beautifully crafted
business card. He pressed it into Ren's palm. "Motobe said you were a collector?
Keep this one safe. It's a limited run!"
Ren blinked, finally snapping out of it. He carefully tucked the card away,
nodding his thanks.
In the ring, Haruo Kono remained unconscious. The medical team was struggling to
figure out how to lift 315kg of meat onto a standard stretcher. Nearby, his
"Father," Akio Kono, had collapsed onto his knees, muttering "How... why..."
over and over.
This had been a formal Kengan Annihilation Street Brawl match. N社 (N-Company)
was officially eliminated. The corporate fallout would be catastrophic, but in a
plaza full of warriors and assassins, no one gave a damn about a CEO's bank
account.
The Kure Main Estate, Great Mess Hall.
Erio had initially offered a private room, but Shibukawa had insisted on
experiencing the "Local Flavor." Thus, dinner was held in the massive communal
dining hall.
It was a rowdy, vibrant scene. Around fifty Kure members of all ages were
gathered at long tables. The air was thick with the scent of traditional
home-cooking and the energy of a large, lethal family.
Erio and Shibukawa sat at the head of the main table, while the younger
generation lined the sides. The conversation was a chaotic blend of mundane and
macabre.
Raian Kure had finished his meal in record time. He was currently leaning
against a window frame, looking bored. "I hate this 'Happy Family' crap," he
muttered to no one in particular.
"Don't mind him," Fusui whispered to Ren. "Big Brother actually cares quite a
bit. He wouldn't have stayed to wait for us to finish if he didn't."
Ren nodded. Raian, hearing them, let out a loud, aggressive "Tch!"
The other Kure members were deep in their own discussions: contract updates, the
best type of whetstone for a combat blade, the most efficient way to induce
arterial spray, and the recent fluctuations in the "Shadow Economy."
"Now THIS is a summer holiday!"
Shibukawa slapped his thigh and laughed, clearly enjoying the atmosphere.
Beside him, Erio looked curious. "So, why the sudden visit to our corner of the
world, Gouki? You didn't come all this way just to bully a fat kid."
"Of course not."
Shibukawa's smile vanished, his expression turning sharp. "A dangerous death row
convict... an 'old friend' of mine. I wanted to hand-deliver a challenge to him,
but the man is a ghost."
"I heard a rumor he had a hideout near the borders of Kure Village. I came
looking for a trail."
Erio nodded. He had heard the stories of Shibukawa's past. He didn't pry
further.
The Patriarch took a sip of sake. "IDEAL, the Convicts, The Worm... the shadows
are moving, Gouki. The world is getting restless. It's a busy time to be alive."
Sonoda chimed in, "The IDEAL movement is particularly erratic. Like the
convicts, they are flooding the borders. The situation in Tokyo is becoming a
powder keg."
"Hahaha! It needs to be serious, but don't let your face get stuck like that,
Sonoda-kun!"
Shibukawa gestured to himself and Erio. "In our youth, a duel between martial
artists had no rules. Having your eyes gouged out or your groin pulverized was
just... Tuesday."
"This era is much better! We have rings! We have the police! You boys have your
work cut out for you. If it gets too messy, don't be afraid to call the
seniors!"
Sonoda blushed, quickly offering a toast to the two legends.
Midnight.
Inside the guest house adjacent to the estate, Ren Shiroki couldn't sleep. The
image of the "Saint of War" and his master-level Aiki was playing on loop in his
head.
"He's so strong..."
Ren slid open the door and walked barefoot onto the lawn. Raian was sleeping at
his own home, so the three of them were in separate rooms.
Ren sat in the center of the grass, adopting Ryu's meditative posture. The
silence was absolute, save for the rhythmic chirping of the summer cicadas.
Doppo-san said: Catch the timing. Master Shibukawa said: Seize the weak point.
Both are the 'Strength' of the peak. How do I incorporate that into my own path?
Ren tried to clear his mind, to find the "Stillness" Ryu often spoke of.
Swirling ink-wash lines began to outline falling cherry blossoms around him. It
was a scene of perfect, stagnant beauty.
But the more silent it became, the more Ren felt a sense of internal friction.
"No... this isn't it..."
[Of course it isn't.]
POW! BANG! TAP-TAP-BOOM!
The ink-wash lines began to pulse with a new, irregular rhythm. A faint, distant
beat from the commercial district's late-night stalls seemed to echo in Ren's
skull.
Ren's brow furrowed. "Is this right?"
[YEAH BABY! It's perfect!]
[A festival in a foreign land is full of soul, and you're sitting here like a
statue? That's not 'You', Buddy!]
Ren opened his eyes. The ink was a chaotic, vibrant swirl. He couldn't see the
phantom, but he heard the parting message:
[Thanks for the vibe, Buddy! I'm gonna put this feeling into a new track!]
The phantom of Dee Jay dissolved, leaving Ren with a wide, refreshed grin.
He had almost forgotten he was on holiday. He had been so caught up in the
"Master's" logic that he'd almost let his own spirit grow cold.
"Right. It's supposed to be Lively, isn't it?"
Ren let out a massive yawn, the tension finally leaving his body. He headed back
to his room to sleep.
"Nice. That's perfect—"
The Next Morning.
Ren prepared to head out. Seeing Fusui was still busy with family matters, he
headed to the Central Plaza alone.
According to the festival's "King of the Hill" rules, the winner of the first
match held the ring until they were defeated or they stepped down. Currently,
the octagon belonged to Gouki Shibukawa.
When Ren arrived, he found the plaza already bustling.
A dozen men in judo gi were gathered in the ring. Based on their patches, they
were from the MPD's Judo Division. Some were from Tokyo, others were local
officers from the surrounding towns who had heard the "Saint of War" was in
residence.
Official Sonoda was among them. They were holding an impromptu training seminar,
with Shibukawa acting as the instructor.
"HA!" "HEI!"
The energy was high. Everyone was eager to learn from a living legend on a
world-class outdoor stage.
Shibukawa spotted Ren approaching and beamed. "Haha! Here he is! I knew you
wouldn't stay away for long!"
Fusui arrived shortly after, shielding her eyes from the sun. She looked at the
ring with curiosity. "Shibukawa-sensei, I knew you were an Aiki master, but you
teach Judo too?"
"I was a Judo man before I was anything else!"
Shibukawa stood with his hands on his hips. "It was a long time ago, but the
fundamentals never change. Guiding these boys through their drills is no trouble
at all."
Ren watched the practice, his eyes bright. "It's so lively. This looks like a
blast!"
At that moment, Sonoda finished a set of randori and walked to the edge of the
ring, wiping sweat from his brow. He heard Ren's comment and frowned slightly.
"Ren-kun... Judo isn't just 'Lively' and 'Fun.' It is the primary suppression
art for front-line officers."
"In Tokyo, we have Judo practitioners at the Olympic level. And while I'm
nowhere near that tier... I'd like to think I know my way around a mat. Care to
test your luck against a cop?"
"..."
Ren Shiroki's lips curled into a wide, exhilarated grin. He looked genuinely
thrilled. He faced Sonoda and spread his arms wide.
"Sonoda-aniki! Thank you!"
"—Wait, what?"
Before Sonoda could react, Ren lunged. He didn't go for a standard Judo grip. He
performed a massive bear-hug, his weight slamming into the officer and sending
him stumbling back.
Ren let out a roar: "OPENING!"
WHOOSH!
Ren drove his weight forward. He used the mechanics of Zangief's [Siberian
Express], but aborted the throw mid-motion, simply using the raw torque to
tackle Sonoda to the sand.
THUD!
Sonoda hit the floor on his back. Ren pinned him instantly, holding the position
for several long seconds. Sonoda just stared at the sky, his brain failing to
process the last three seconds of his life.
Ren stood up and offered a hand to pull the officer back to his feet.
"That... that..."
Sonoda stood up, looking dazed. He adjusted his gi and muttered, "That was
completely dishonorable! You didn't even use a proper grip!"
Hearing this, Ren laughed. Fusui giggled from the sidelines. Shibukawa, however,
burst into a fit of laughter so intense he had to slap his own thigh to keep
from falling over.
"Sonoda-kun! Why did you learn Judo? To win medals in a tournament?"
Shibukawa wiped a tear of joy from his eye. "You learned it to arrest criminals,
right?"
"In a real struggle, you can't complain that the opponent 'cheated' or used an
'illegal grip.' If you're in a match, you play by the rules. If you're in a
'Slaying,' anything goes!"
"If your technique can be dismantled by a bit of 'unorthodoxy,' then you haven't
mastered the art."
Shibukawa winked at Sonoda. "And technically, under Judo rules, the boy didn't
commit a foul. He just out-hustled you!"
Sonoda scratched his head, unable to find a counter-argument. He bowed
respectfully to Ren and Shibukawa. He was about to return to his drills when he
noticed something.
Ren Shiroki's eyes hadn't left Shibukawa. He was vibrating with a high-pitched
combat energy that was impossible to suppress—the exact same look Ohma Tokita
had given the soldiers the night before.
Shibukawa noticed it too. He grinned. "I told you, Ren-kun. Don't stand on
ceremony with me."
"Nice. That's perfect!"
Ren licked his lips, his focus narrowing until the rest of the plaza blurred
out. "Thanks for the invitation, Shibukawa-sensei. This is exactly the kind of
holiday I was looking for—"
Shibukawa's eyes crinkled behind his glasses. "Heh. My thoughts exactly~!"
The two men extended their right hands, gripping each other in a firm,
meaningful handshake.
(End of Chapter)
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