CHAPTER 160: THE FREAK
A common concrete brick, snatched from a construction pile, was clutched in the
man's hand. He swung it in a wide, horizontal arc aimed directly at Ren
Shiroki's face.
SHING!
Ren, despite the bourbon and beer clouding his senses, tilted his weight. He
used his right wrist to "tap" the man's inner elbow, a light percussive strike
that caused the attacker's arm to spasm and fly off-course.
The brick slipped from the man's fingers. Ren caught it mid-air with his left
hand.
"Oh ho! How thoughtful~"
Ren balanced the brick on his palm, chuckling. "You knew I needed a paperweight
for my new office. You're quite the gentleman for giving me a heads-up before
delivering it."
"Tch!"
The man in the beanie let out a cold snort. He locked onto Ren's head and
launched a full-power swinging hook.
Ren didn't dodge. He simply pivoted his torso and held the brick out to meet the
man's fist.
BANG!
Knuckles met concrete. The brick shattered into a cloud of red dust, the
fragments spilling through Ren's fingers.
"WAAGH~!"
Ren looked down at his half-eaten chicken skewers, now covered in brick-grit. He
let out a pained, pouting sigh. "That was a lot of power. But you ruined my
dinner! What the hell, man?"
The attacker didn't look surprised by Ren's reflexes. He'd read the dossiers on
the "Soul Combat" boy. He'd expected resistance.
"A martial artist with a bit of talent, just like the report said."
"Good. If I could kill you with a single brick, I'd feel guilty taking the
'Annihilation' bounty on your head."
The man in the beanie shook the dust from his hand and looked at the two
drunkards. Ren was swaying, and Mitsuyo Kureishi was leaning against him, his
eyes half-closed and a vacant smile on his face.
The man gestured toward the street. "We aren't doing this here. I don't want the
Keisatsu interfering with a professional contract. Let's take a walk."
"Or would you prefer I start breaking furniture in here?"
"..."
Ren looked at Kureishi. The senior MMA pro waved a limp hand, slurring his
words. "Don't fight in the shop... Ren-kun... I don't want to be blacklisted by
another yakitori joint..."
Kureishi's alcohol tolerance was legendary, but tonight he had crossed the line
into "Terminal Drunkenness." He could barely stay upright. Ren slung Kureishi's
arm over his shoulder and helped him stand.
They paid the bill and followed the man in the beanie out of the shop. Waiting
for them at the curb was a second figure—a tall, skeletal man wrapped in
tattered medical bandages, wearing a crude surgical mask.
Kureishi squinted his bleary eyes, scanning the newcomer.
"Hmm? A mummy?"
"That's why he said 'We,'" Ren noted.
The two attackers moved into a pincer formation, the Beanie Man leading the way
while the Mummy brought up the rear. Ren and Kureishi strolled between them,
enjoying the cool night air and continuing their conversation.
"Ren-kun... your Hub is really beautiful. It's twice the size of my Dojo. I'm so
jealous!"
"Hahaha! It's the three stories! The verticality is the key!"
"By the way, where did these guys come from?"
"I don't know. The beanie and the bandages? They look like they're into 'Extreme
Performance Art' or something."
"Retch!"
"Oi! You drank too much! Sorry, guys. My friend isn't saying your art is
disgusting. It's actually quite striking—"
The two drunkards laughed and joked, acting as if they were being escorted by
tour guides rather than professional hitmen.
Minutes later, the group turned into a narrow, lightless alleyway.
"This will do," the Beanie Man said, stopping. "No foot traffic. No
interruptions."
He turned back to face them, his expression darkening. He'd been holding his
temper for three blocks. These two were the most annoying targets he'd ever
tracked.
He opened a tactical pouch at his waist and pulled out a pair of weighted brass
knuckles, sliding them over his fingers. He flexed, his muscles rippling under
his vest.
"You were both at the Dome. You know the rules of the ** Street Brawl**. I don't
need to explain the protocol."
"Anything goes."
He rolled his shoulders, the joints popping. "I'll be blunt. Someone paid a
high-end fee to have you removed from the board. They want the 'Soul' and the
'Freak' out of the tournament before the first round even begins."
He reached behind his back and drew a high-voltage stun baton.
Across the alley, the Mummy pulled two jagged, double-edged combat knives from
his sleeves, settling into a low, predatory stance.
"We are experts," the Beanie Man growled. "We use whatever means necessary to
fulfill a contract. Ambushing drunkards with weapons is our specialty. Don't
complain about 'cowardice' when you're in the dirt."
Ren Shiroki and Kureishi shared a look. Then, they both burst out laughing.
"Ren-kun... is he being serious?"
"Don't be mean, Senpai! I told you, he's a very kind and considerate person!"
The two continued to babble, their conversation drifting off into nonsense.
"By the way, I'm still thirsty. Want to hit another bar after this?"
"Nice! Simply perfect!"
The Beanie Man's face turned a bruised purple. He had never been so thoroughly
disrespected. Are they really this drunk? Or are they insane?
Seeing the man's confusion, Ren let go of Kureishi, making sure the senior was
stable, and stepped forward.
"Have you ever heard a story, Beanie-san?"
"Hah? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Years ago," Ren mused, "right when the Shinshinkai HQ was finished, the Bushin
went out to celebrate. He drank a massive amount of sake, and in his drunken
stupor, he was ambushed by the Ogre, Yujiro Hanma."
"Those two massive scars on Doppo-oji-san's face? He got them that night."
"But in forty years, the God of War has never once called that a 'cowardly sneak
attack.' He views it as his own failure for being 'Unprepared' for reality."
Ren looked the man in the eye, his gaze suddenly sharp.
"You call yourself an 'Expert.' But you're being far too polite."
"For a martial artist, daily life is the match. If you lose, you have no
excuses. You don't need to explain your methods."
"Even if you had just hit me with that brick without saying a word, I wouldn't
have called you dirty."
"And now? Standing here, waiting for us to get ready? Honestly... you're being
far too kind."
The Beanie Man's patience snapped. He triggered the stun baton, the electrical
arc hissing with a lethal blue light.
The Mummy lunged forward, his blades whistling through the air.
Ren pivoted his torso. "One each, Senpai?"
"I suppose I can manage that..."
Kureishi rubbed his face, his eyelids drooping. He turned to face the Mummy,
looking like he was about to fall over. He was in terrible condition.
2 VS. 2.
Kureishi staggered back, his mind lost in a drunken fog. He ignored the youth
behind him and focused entirely on the Bandaged Man.
Street brawls... how nostalgic, Kureishi thought. Reminds me of the day after
the Rokushin tournament... when the monsters came out of the shadows...
As Kureishi wallowed in his memories, the Mummy saw a thousand openings. He
lunged, his right blade slashing downward for a disemboweling strike.
SHING!
Kureha spun on his heel. He moved through the arc of the knife, the blade
missing his skin by a fraction of a millimeter. He used the momentum to smooth
his ponytail, ensuring his hair wasn't clipped by the steel.
"!?!"
He dodged? That fast?!
The Mummy realized Kureishi wasn't nearly as drunk as he looked. He tightened
his grip and prepared a follow-up.
But the next second, he felt a strange sensation. His right arm felt... empty.
He looked down. His wrist was bent back at a 90-degree angle. The internal bones
had been pulverized and shifted, the skin bunching into a gruesome, knotted
lump.
"AAAAAGH—!"
The agony hit his brain like a thunderbolt.
Kureishi looked at the man with a face full of genuine guilt.
"Ah... sorry, sorry! I guess I really am too drunk."
As he spoke, Kureishi's friendly persona dissolved. He stuck out his split,
bifurcated tongue. His face flushed a dark, feverish red, and a twisted,
terrifying smile spread across his lips. He was breathing in heavy, rhythmic
gasps.
"If I were at 100%, I would have snapped the bone into much more...
Interesting... shapes."
"Please! Give me a chance to make it up to you! Let me try again!!"
"You don't mind, do you? THANK YOU~!"
CRACK! SNAP! POP! SQUELCH!!
Mitsuyo Kureishi. Born the youngest of five siblings in Tottori Prefecture.
At the age of two, precisely when his "Self" began to manifest, Kureishi
realized he was an absolute anomaly among his peers.
To him, the world of "Living Things" didn't exist. He didn't see people. He
didn't see animals.
He only saw Collections of Bones.
"EEEEEIIIIII—AAAAAGH!!!"
The Mummy's screams echoed through the lightless alley.
By the time Kureishi was "Satisfied," the Bandaged Man was a human pretzel. His
arms, legs, and ribs had been systematically snapped and rearranged into a
geometric nightmare. He lay in the corner of the alley, his body vibrating with
terminal shock.
Mitsuyo Kureishi. Alias: THE FREAK.
Hobby: Breaking Bones.
☆☆☆
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