CHAPTER 134: THE DOCTOR'S NETWORK
The man standing in the ring possessed a level of "Presence" that was rare even among the elite.
He stood 184cm (6'0") tall, with a physique that was perfectly balanced and densely packed with functional muscle. He had long, vivid orange hair that flowed over his shoulders like silk. His features were refined—pale skin, sharp eyes, and a confident, handsome face that belonged on the cover of a high-end fashion magazine.
He didn't look like a typical doctor. He looked like a god who had decided to practice medicine as a hobby.
Any professional in the medical world—and anyone in the deep underworld—recognized that face instantly.
Dr. Kureha Shinogi.
A man who could collaborate with a giant like Furumi Pharmaceuticals was, by definition, an industry titan. But Kureha was more than that. By the age of twenty, he had mastered anatomy to such a degree that he was world-famous. His surgical technique was referred to by peers as "The Dance," a performance of such precision that he could remove deep-seated cancerous masses in under an hour without leaving a visible scar.
But there were "Shadows" to his reputation that the public never saw.
Kureha Shinogi was a practitioner of high-level combat. He had fought in the underground circuits, and while he had ultimately lost to Baki Hanma, he had pushed the champion to his absolute limit. Later, he had participated in the Maximum Tournament at the Tokyo Dome, famously yielding to his younger brother, Kosho Shinogi, after acknowledging the boy's superior battle-spirit.
It was this man who had treated Ren Shiroki and Kaoru Hanayama after their street brawl. It was his elite care that had allowed them to recover with such supernatural speed.
Today, the "Super-Surgeon" stood in the octagonal ring. He had just forced the injured Ren to sit down and rest, and now he stood as a barrier between the youth and Superintendent Seiichi Tenma.
Fusui Kure triggered her vision, her black-and-white eyes scanning Kureha's frame. She let out a low whistle of appreciation.
"Even through that lab coat... look at the muscle density. His body is a masterpiece. He's spent more time in the gym than in the operating theater!"
Nozomi Tenma nodded in agreement. She had seen Kureha briefly when Ren was hospitalized, but seeing him now, at the center of a conflict, the " Might" radiating from him was palpable. Like Ren, he didn't need a murderous aura to be intimidating. He just looked... Complete.
In the ring, Ren looked up at Kureha, surprised. He knew the doctor was on Furumi's payroll, but he hadn't expected the man to act as a personal bodyguard.
Superintendent Tenma remained silent for a long moment, his face a mask of cold, bureaucratic calculation. He was analyzing the variables.
Kureha ignored him entirely. He turned back to his patients—Ren and the semi-conscious Akoya.
"Both of you... you have such fascinating muscle groups," Kureha mused with a clinical smile. "One is built for 'Suppression'—hard, rigid, like a suit of armor. The other is built for 'Combat'—fluid, responsive, and constantly evolving."
"Simply beautiful! The ring truly is the best gallery for biological art! Haha!"
Kureha leaned in and gave Ren a sharp, rhythmic pat on the back. Ren felt a sudden vibration in his lungs and coughed up a thick, blood-flecked slurry of phlegm. Instantly, his chest felt lighter, and his breathing became clear.
"Nice! Simply perfect! Thanks, Doc."
Ren grinned, and Kureha returned the smile. It was a harmonious moment of mutual respect between warriors.
But Superintendent Tenma had reached his limit. The "Cold Anger" of a politician was being ignited by Kureha's blatant disrespect. He represented the Secret Service Division; he wasn't used to being ignored by a "Medical Professional."
"If you're so eager to help," Tenma hissed, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses, "then perhaps you'd like to take Ren Shiroki's place? You won't be leaving this building tonight either way."
Tenma raised his voice, a low bark of command. "Minowa! Get out here!"
No one responded.
Tenma's brow furrowed. He looked back toward his squad of suited enforcers. They looked as confused as he was. None of them knew where their star "Burial Expert" had gone.
Seiichi Minowa—the man who could crush a riot shield with his palm—was the Division's sharpest blade. He was the one who was supposed to "Dojo-Challenge" Ren tonight.
Step... step... step...
A junior officer ran down the stairs, looking pale. He hurried to Tenma's side and whispered frantically.
Tenma's eyes widened. "What?! In the infirmary?!"
Kureha let out a soft, amused chuckle. "Ah, so his name is Minowa?"
"I ran into him and his squad earlier," Kureha recalled, looking at the ceiling. "They seemed to have the delusion that they could seize control of this entire venue. Since I was busy prepping my medical gear, the conflict was... unavoidable."
"That Minowa-kun is quite the specimen. He possesses a very rare genetic marker—a deficiency in the Myostatin protein. It allows for near-infinite 'Compression' of muscle growth."
"The result is a man who looks lean, yet possesses the bone density and tendon strength of a prehistoric beast. A truly 'Superhuman' level of power."
Kureha's expression turned into one of professional pity.
"But there is a cost. His metabolism is a furnace. He requires constant high-calorie intake just to maintain basic motor function. Unlike the Wild Tiger, who was born a natural anomaly, Minowa-kun is a 'Defective' specimen. His body is literally eating itself alive."
"In short: He is a sick man."
"Through proper treatment, I could have guided his development. But you? You've been using his 'Might' as a blunt instrument, pushing him until his internal systems collapsed under the strain."
Kureha shook his head at Tenma. "A sick man cannot win against a doctor. Don't you agree, Superintendent?"
Tenma's face turned a sickly shade of grey. He couldn't fathom that his greatest weapon had been neutralized silently, without a single gunshot being fired.
"You... this is interference with a police investigation," Tenma stammered. "I'll have you in a cell by midnight—"
Kureha raised a hand, his smile as sharp as a scalpel.
"I'd be happy to cooperate with an official inquiry," the doctor said smoothly. "However... I have several appointments scheduled for tomorrow morning. Perhaps you should call my 'Clients' and explain why their physician is being detained?"
Kureha reached into his pocket and produced a small stack of business cards. He fanned them out for Tenma to see.
The Superintendent didn't even need to take them. He could see the gold-embossed seals from where he stood.
The Minister of Defense.
The Minister of Education and Science.
The Chief Cabinet Secretary.
The Prime Minister.
Every single name on those cards represented a power that could erase a Metropolitan Superintendent with a single phone call. To touch Kureha Shinogi was to invite a political nuclear strike on the MPD.
"..."
Tenma stood paralyzed. He looked toward Nozomi and the Valkyrie squad, hoping to salvage something from the night, but Kureha interrupted him again.
"Oh, and regarding the Valkyrie circuit and the Soul Combat Hub... I'd advise you to stop your 'Cleanup' operations there as well."
Kureha grinned. "The Commissioner spoke to me. He mentioned your interest in the Army of God's chemical weapons."
"But while you were here posturing, the Secret Service squad you sent to raid the Valkyrie offices? They were intercepted by the elders of the Rokushin Kaikan."
"Commissioner Takeya is a Rokushin alumnus. His brothers-in-arms take a very dim view of 'Shadow Cops' bothering their friends. Your evidence is gone, and your men are currently being 'Educated' by the strongest Karateka in the city."
Kureha leaned his hand on Ren's shoulder, offering Tenma a final, mocking wave of dismissal.
"Give it up, Superintendent. Don't drag us into your boring little bureaucratic wars."
"And more importantly..." Kureha's eyes glowed with a dangerous light. "Never underestimate the network of a Martial Artist."
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