CHAPTER 5: MADNESS
"I did some digging into the Zanshi-gumi over the last few days. It turns out they actually managed to book a registered Kengan Association fighter. But how can a low-tier Yakuza branch like them afford those kinds of appearance fees?"
"There are some dark undercurrents moving through the Urasakai (Underworld) right now..."
Fusui Kure licked her lips excitedly as she waved to the girl standing by the roadside.
"Tonight is going to be fun! Don't worry, Arisa-chan. Karura and I will protect you."
"Arisa-chin, come on! Be brave!"
"..."
Seeing Arisa hesitate, Fusui and Karura assumed she was having second thoughts. They couldn't blame her. Unlike the Kure Clan, who were born and bred in the world of assassination, Arisa was just a "normal girl." Hearing words like Yakuza and Underground Deathmatch was enough to make anyone's blood run cold.
"If you don't want to go, don't force yourself," Karura said, leaning out the car window to comfort her friend. "We'll stay in touch via text and let you know the—"
Before Karura could finish, Arisa suddenly threw her hands in the air and let out a victory cheer.
"Woo-hoo!"
She scrambled into the car, eyes sparkling with excitement. There was a visible sense of relief on her face, like she had just been granted a front-row seat to the best show on earth.
"..."
The sudden shift left Fusui and Karura stunned. Usually, this kind of scene involved a girl trembling with fear, overcoming her dread with a resolute look, and slowly stepping into the car.
But Arisa? She had just shouted "Woo-hoo" and hopped in like they were going to Disneyland.
"Arisa-chan," Karura said, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. "You do realize where we're going, right? Are you... not even a little scared?"
"Not really!"
Arisa rested her chin on her hand and sighed. "I'm worried about my big brother, sure. But scared? Nah. My luck has always been top-tier. I'll be fine."
Karura was even more confused. From what she knew, Ren and Arisa had lived a miserable life. Their guardian died, Ren was terminally ill, the dojo went bust, and they were being hunted by loan sharks. How could she possibly think she was lucky?
"Think about it—" Arisa began, counting off on her fingers.
"I was adopted and found the best Grandpa and the best brother ever. I was going to drop out of school to pay for Ren's treatment, but then someone showed up and gave me a loan! We were about to lose our house, but then my brother's illness suddenly cured itself!"
"And now—just when I was worried about how my brother was doing—Karura-chan and Fusui-nee show up to give me a ride to the fight!"
Arisa pumped a fist, her voice full of conviction. "See? My luck is god-tier!"
"..."
Fusui and Karura exchanged a look in the rearview mirror.
As members of the Kure Clan, their worldview was already skewed far from the norm. But even by their standards, Arisa's logic was... special. Or perhaps, being raised in a martial arts household had given her a natural sense of "Madness."
The car sped toward the outskirts of the city.
As the city lights faded into the heavy darkness, it felt as though they were crossing the border from the "Normal World" into the "Underworld."
Their destination was an underground casino located in a derelict resort. From the outside, the place looked abandoned, but as they drove past the gates, they saw a massive, half-finished construction project. Scaffolding clung to the concrete skeleton like a spiderweb, and while there were no windows, the interior was blazing with electric light.
The lot was packed with black Yakuza sedans, garishly painted off-roaders, and rows of Bosozoku-style motorcycles.
Stepping inside the building, the air was thick with heat and noise.
Everywhere they looked, they saw illegal gambling dens: Pachinko machines, Mahjong tables, Roulette, Texas Hold 'em, and Blackjack.
Yakuza, bikers, thugs, and delinquents—a true rogue's gallery—roamed under the flickering fluorescent lights. The air was a stinging cocktail of cheap cigarettes and heavy cologne.
Arisa swallowed hard. "So... Onii-chan is fighting a Kengan match here?"
"Not exactly," Karura corrected her. "Ren-san is fighting a registered Kengan fighter in an underground bout. It's not an official Kengan Match."
"What's the difference?" Arisa asked.
"A lot. Even the underworld has a hierarchy. The Kengan Association is the absolute peak of the pyramid."
As the granddaughter of the Kure Patriarch, Karura was a regular at the highest-level matches. She began to list the differences. "First, the audience. Kengan matches are for members—titans of industry and high-ranking politicians. The side-bets alone run into the hundreds of millions of yen."
"But most importantly: the atmosphere."
"A real Kengan match has a level of 'intensity' that this place can't touch."
Karura let out a bored yawn. "In other words, even if they hired a real Kengan fighter, this whole event is just a 'knock-off'..."
Arisa nodded, beginning to understand. It was the difference between a street thug acting tough and a world-class athlete or a high-ranking scholar. The "Presence" of the two was on entirely different levels.
As Arisa looked around, trying to spot her brother, someone stepped out from the shadows to block their path.
It was a scarred thug wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt, smelling of cheap sake and bad intentions. He had overheard their conversation and—having just lost 200,000 yen at the tables—was looking for someone to take it out on.
"Oi, what's with these brats talking big?" the thug sneered, his small eyes fixed on Arisa's school uniform. "Keep it up and I'll sink you lot in Tokyo Bay! Or maybe... did someone call for a 'Schoolgirl' service from the local soapland? You girls aren't half bad..."
The thug reached out toward Arisa.
But his hand froze an inch away. Something cold and sharp was pressed firmly against the underside of his chin.
It was a tactical folding knife, held firmly in Fusui Kure's hand.
"Our family takes its promises seriously," Fusui said, her black-and-white eyes glimmering with a playful, yet deadly light. "I promised to protect Arisa-chin. That includes protecting her 'mental health' from trash like you."
She leaned in closer. "Besides... you're a knock-off, too. Even your death threats are just posturing."
The thug turned purple with rage. "You think a toy knife scares a Yakuza?! Don't look down on me!"
He pulled back a fist to strike.
Fusui was about to counter, but a large hand suddenly reached past her, grabbing the thug's wrist and slamming it downward with crushing force.
"Gah! My wrist!"
The thug was forced to his knees, his face contorted in pain.
The three girls turned to see Ren Shiroki.
Enraged and desperate, the thug pulled a shiv from his waistband with his free hand and lunged at Ren's gut.
Ren simply stepped half a pace forward, twisting the thug's wrist further back until his posture broke. He released the arm and delivered a crisp lead hook straight into the man's solar plexus.
"Oof!"
The thug let out a strangled groan and collapsed, unconscious, retching onto the concrete floor.
Fusui's eyes lit up.
She could see it immediately. Compared to three days ago, Ren's movements were fluid, synchronized, and his breathing followed a perfect rhythm. To an expert, it was a beautiful sight.
Fusui spun her knife and tucked it back into its hidden sheath at her waist, waving a hand.
"Yo, Ren-chin!"
"..."
Ren looked at Fusui, then at Arisa and Karura behind her. A shadow of a thought crossed his eyes before he gave a calm nod.
"Yo. Good evening."
"...Eh?" Fusui blinked.
She had prepared a whole list of excuses for bringing his sister to a dangerous place like this. She expected him to be furious.
But Ren didn't seem to care at all!
Actually, Ren did care, but he had already rationalized it. He hadn't expected the Kure girls to track him down, much less bring Arisa. But then he realized: Arisa was probably safer with two Kure assassins than she would be sitting home alone.
So... he stopped overthinking it.
Ren ruffled Arisa's hair. "It's messy here. Stay close and don't wander off."
"Mhm!" Arisa chirped.
Fusui and Karura sighed in unison. Wow, this brother and sister really are cut from the same cloth. Their level of 'acceptance' is off the charts!
"Onii-chan," Arisa looked at the unconscious thug. "Did we cause trouble for you?"
"You mean for hitting him?"
Ren raised an eyebrow and waved it off. "Not at all. Don't worry about it."
Just then, Inoue, the Zanshi-gumi sub-boss, hurried over, drawn by the commotion. Before he could scream at Ren, Ren slung an arm around Inoue's shoulder like they were old college buddies.
"Actually, the boss here should be thanking me!"
Ignoring the vein throbbing in Inoue's temple, Ren laughed heartily. "There's more than one kind of 'violence' in this world, Inoue-bro! I just saved you from a massive headache by stepping in. Right?"
Inoue's eye twitched. He was about to explode, but then he noticed something.
The short-haired girl behind Ren didn't just have a knife. Under her vest, there was a very specific "outline."
The Zanshi-gumi was small, but it was still a branch of a major syndicate. Inoue knew what that shape was.
A handgun?!
Are you kidding me?
Fusui noticed his gaze and gave him a wink. "It's a real piece, by the way."
Inoue didn't want to believe it, but a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Who the hell are these people?!
"..."
The atmosphere was turning icy.
Just as Inoue was about to break away from Ren to find a cigarette and calm his nerves, another roar of noise erupted from the far side of the building.
"Now what?!"
Inoue turned toward the sound and finally breathed a sigh of relief. For him, a new commotion was good news—it meant the main event was starting.
Ren's opponent for the night—the registered fighter from the Kengan Association—had arrived. He stepped out to the thunderous cheers of the underworld crowd.
"He's here! The 'Deva King,'Komada is here!"