CHAPTER 156: THE [KATA]
"Qualified, you say?"
Hideki Nogi blinked, looking back and forth between Fusui Kure and the peacefully sleeping Ren Shiroki.
As a long-standing Kengan Association member, Nogi was well-acquainted with the Kure Clan's reputation. He knew of their biological obsession—their habit of "Breed Improvement" and "Technical Absorption" by collecting the "seeds" of the world's greatest martial artists.
Nogi looked at Ren, then back at Fusui. The pieces clicked.
Splendid!
Nogi was inwardly ecstatic. He had invested a hundred million yen to bring Ren Shiroki into the Association. Now, seeing the Kure Clan's seal of approval, he knew his gamble had paid off in spades.
While Nogi was congratulating himself, the Kure delegation didn't depart immediately. Instead, they took a detour through the tiers, walking toward the VIP seats.
In the lead was a wiry, sharp-eyed old man in a traditional kimono. His white hair was slicked back, giving him the appearance of a kindly grandfather. But the black-and-white eyes and the ancient, crushing authority radiating from him were impossible to ignore.
This was the Patriarch of the Kure Clan, the First "Fang of Metsudo"—Erioh Kure.
"Patriarch," Fusui said, giving a respectful nod.
"Quite a coincidence, Fusui. I didn't expect to see you here tonight," Erioh said warmly. He turned his gaze to Kureha Shinogi and extended a hand. "Dr. Shinogi. A pleasure. I have a few youngsters in medical school currently researching under your papers. My thanks for your guidance."
"Not at all," Kureha smiled politely. "The Kure students have a solid foundation. They've been an asset to my lab."
After the pleasantries, Erioh's gaze shifted to the youth sleeping on Fusui's shoulder. "Ho ho... so this is him?"
Before Fusui could answer, a blond youth with a violent, restless energy burst from behind Erioh.
This was the crown jewel of the Kure's new generation, the "Devil" himself—Raian Kure.
"Gya-ha-ha-ha! Let me see him!"
Raian shoved through the group, bracing one hand on the back of a seat to loom over Ren.
"My little sister's 'puberty' started a bit late, didn't it? Is this the guy? He looks... interesting. Is he joining the war too?"
Raian's black-and-white eyes scanned the room, his gaze settling on the gathered warriors with a look of pure, unadulterated bloodlust.
"Bad luck for you, Fusui! Because I just decided... I'm going to slaughter every single person who steps into the street. That way, I'm the only winner left, right?!"
The raw, jagged pressure of Raian's killing intent was so intense that Hideki Nogi felt a cold sweat soak through his expensive suit.
Fusui, suspecting her brother might actually pounce, shifted her shoulder to let Ren's head slide further into her lap, physically blocking Raian's path.
Erioh Kure looked down. He realized that despite being in the direct line of Raian's "Devil" aura, Ren Shiroki was still sound asleep. He wasn't faking; his heart rate was steady and slow.
"Hmm? A truly fascinating individual," Erioh mused. He reached out and patted Fusui's head. "Go play as you like, Fusui. But be careful of the storm coming to Tokyo. If you need the Clan's weight, remember to call."
Fusui nodded.
Raian let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oi, oi! If it were Arisa-chan or Karura falling for a guy, the Old Man wouldn't be this calm! He'd be burning the city down!"
"RAIAN!"
Erioh's face darkened, veins throbbing on his temple. "Do not joke about such things. Even in your 'Imaging,' that thought is prohibited!"
Raian opened his mouth to retort, but the other Kure enforcers quickly dragged him away. "Don't poke the bear, Raian! You know he's a terminal 'Great-Granddaughter-con.' If he snaps, we're all in for a rough night."
Raian laughed, finally allowing himself to be led out. But before he left the box, he pivoted and threw a massive shadow-punch toward Ren.
SHING!
The wind-pressure from the punch was a physical gust that ruffled Ren's hair.
Seeing the youth remain in a deep sleep, Raian rolled his wrist, his grin widening. "Fun! It'll be fun to see how you taste when I eat you whole!"
The Kure Clan departed.
A few minutes later, Ren Shiroki stirred. He opened his bleary eyes, feeling remarkably refreshed. "Hoo... did a nice breeze just blow through here?"
He looked up at the moon through the dome's high windows, looking perfectly relaxed.
Six Days Later.
The Shiroki Property.
It was mid-morning. The construction crew was in the final stages of the build, the sound of hammers and drills creating a rhythmic backdrop to the day. The Soul Combat Hub was nearly a reality.
In the corner of the yard, Ren had just finished removing his final medical bandages. He flexed his left hand, testing the recruitment of his forearm muscles.
"Nice! Simply perfect!"
He ran through a light shadow-boxing routine, his body finally synchronized and warm.
Arisa, Fusui, and the medical director An Sakurai were watching from the porch.
"I've run the biometrics," An said, chugging a cold can of beer. "Shinogi's treatment was flawless. Combined with the Boss's insane biological resilience, he's functionally at 100%. He could punch a hole in a tank right now."
Arisa let out a breath of relief.
Fusui, however, was focused on Ren's expression. "Ren-chin looks... troubled."
Fusui was right.
Ren was stuck on a specific technical riddle. Every time he replayed the "Match Start" in his mind, he found himself wondering: How am I supposed to fight these new monsters?
Convicts. Master strikers. Secret-service killers. Syndicates.
Ren stood bare-chested and barefoot in the dirt. The sun caught the sweat on his skin.
He triggered his [ENGINE].
In his mind's eye, the ink-wash lines of the yard swirled together to form the silhouette of Ryu.
The Grandmaster didn't speak. He took his stance and beckoned with a hand. He wanted to spar.
Ren nodded and prepared to lunge. But before his foot even left the ground, he realized Ryu's fist was already hovering a millimeter from his forehead.
"!?!"
Ren was stunned. Before he could process the speed, Ryu launched a flurry of punches and kicks. Each strike hit a vital point, yet each one stopped just short of making contact. It was a perfect display of Sun-dome (stopping an inch short).
"Wait... stop—!"
Ren was pinned by the pressure of the phantom's "Might." He couldn't find a single frame to counter.
Suddenly, Ryu splayed his fingers. A swirl of deep indigo ink began to coalesce in his palm. The intensity grew until the air in Ren's mind seemed to vibrate. Ryu tightened his fist around the energy and launched a heavy straight punch.
THE [HADO]!
BOOM!!!
The phantom strike whistled past Ren's head. The sheer wind-pressure caused Ren to reel back, his balance failing until he landed on his rear in the real world.
Ren's eyes widened.
That wasn't just a punch. The [HADO] was the result of Ryu's [KATA].
It was the essence of a lifetime of training, condensed into a singular, spiritual archetype. A "Form" that transcended the physical.
Ren scrambled back to his feet, his heart hammering.
Ryu retracted his arm and looked at his own knuckles. He gave a slow, thoughtful shake of his head.
[Not enough...]
Even after demonstrating the Hado, the Grandmaster looked unsatisfied. His eyes were bright, looking toward a horizon Ren couldn't see. He was still a seeker. He was still looking for a "True Fight."
Ryu walked toward the back of Ren's consciousness and sat in a meditative trance. But as he left, he gestured to the massive shadow standing nearby.
ZANGIEF stepped into the light.
CRACK-POP!
The Russian slammed his fists together. He didn't bother with a tutorial. He lunged with a full-power heavy straight.
Ren tried to react, launching a high-line kick aimed at Zangief's bicep. The kick connected, but it was like hitting a structural steel pillar. The giant didn't even blink.
That was Zangief's [KATA]. His [IRON DEFENSE]. The ability to turn one's own muscle into a physical fortress through pure conviction.
ZIP!
Zangief's iron fist plowed through Ren's guard and slammed into his face.
THOOM!!!
Ren was launched backward. He flew across the yard and slammed into the new brick wall of the Hub's perimeter. The impact was so severe he was physically embedded in the masonry, bricks shattering around his shoulders.
"Ugh... hah... huff..."
Ren slumped to the ground, drenched in sweat.
That's it, Ren thought. That's the missing piece.
To survive the coming war, he couldn't just have a strong body and good moves. He needed his own [KATA].
He needed a "Form" that served as the crystallization of his soul. Ryu had the Hado. Zangief had the Iron Body.
Ren's only clue was the sensation he'd felt against Kureha. [STRIKE: THE APEX].
He had to find the "Dao" of his own fist.
But before he could achieve enlightenment, Ren had to deal with a much more immediate problem.
The sound of the impact had brought the construction crew running over.
They stared at the section of the wall they had just finished curing forty-eight hours ago. It was now a gaping hole of broken red clay and dust. They looked at Ren, then at the wall, then back at their employer.
"Oi, kid!" the foreman barked, his face turning red. "We know you're the Boss, but can you at least try to respect the labor?! We just fixed that section!"
"..."
Ren stood there, his face covered in dust and a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I... I got a little carried away."
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