Chapter 258: Here for the Food
A Grandmaster of Ancient Battlefield Jujutsu in a state of combat readiness was
a terrifying sight to behold.
Though he looked like a disheveled, silver-haired middle-aged man, Motobe Izou
radiated a killing intent so thick it seemed to warp the very air around him.
The perimeter police officers instinctively reached for their holsters, cold
sweat drenching their uniforms.
"—?!"
The officers went on high alert, but they were quickly calmed by Official
Sonoda, who raised a hand to signal them to stand down. Sonoda knew exactly who
the newcomer was. Just like Gouki Shibukawa, the MPD's CQC instructor, this man
was a Grandmaster of his craft and a legend in the martial arts world.
At that moment, Motobe snapped out of his tactical trance. He looked around and
realized the situation was not at all what he had envisioned.
While many of the people present were covered in bandages and bruises, they all
wore expressions of total satisfaction. There was no desperate struggle, no
bloodbath in progress.
The fight... is already over?
"Uh..."
Motobe froze, looking incredibly awkward. The cigarette clamped between his
teeth nearly fell out, and his hands, twitching with the urge to draw a weapon,
suddenly had nowhere to go.
Fortunately, Gaia stepped forward with a grin to bail out his Sensei.
"Motobe-sensei! You haven't had breakfast yet, have you? Here!"
Gaia handed over a packed container of the bear-meat stew. The warm, wild aroma
helped diffuse the awkward tension. As Motobe took the food, Gaia began to
recount the events of the long night.
As the sun climbed higher, the group began to disperse, each heading off to
their respective duties.
The MPD took Sikorsky into custody. Baki and Kozue walked away hand-in-hand.
Nozomi Tenma and Hina Hongo headed back to the Valkyrie headquarters. Erio Kure
faked a sudden, severe bout of "back pain," insisting that Karura stay by his
side to take care of him, clearly terrified that his favorite girl would run off
to find Ohma.
The Kure main house units departed, leaving Fusui Kure to look after Ren
Shiroki. Ohma Tokita, still severely wounded, was supported by Kazuo Yamashita
as they climbed into an MPD transport bound for the hospital.
Motobe sat on a concrete barrier, eating his stew while Gaia described the
night's battles. The old master nodded occasionally, offering a technical
critique.
"The Niko Style, you say? Fascinating." "Hahaha! As expected of Ren-kun. To
think he actually took you down, Gaia. Gave me quite a scare." "This bear stew
is actually delicious..."
Motobe scraped the container clean. After being introduced to Oliva, he stood up
and offered a respectful handshake to the "Unchained."
"Mr. Oliva... the man who stands as an equal to Hanma Yujiro. It is an honor to
meet you."
Oliva, ever boisterous, gave Motobe a heavy pat on the back. His palm hit
something hard and metallic beneath Motobe's jacket.
Motobe chuckled and reached into his waistband, pulling out a short tactical
blade. It had been tucked vertically for a quick-draw in close quarters.
Oliva arched an eyebrow, then curiously touched Motobe's wrist. He heard a faint
clink-clink. Motobe pulled a thin iron chain from his sleeve, a weighted plummet
attached to the end—a "Manriki-gusari" whip-weapon.
"Oho...!" Oliva let out a long whistle. "Just coming for breakfast, yet the old
gentleman is carrying an entire armory!"
Motobe pursed his lips, looking a bit bashful. "Walking, sitting, lying down...
every moment is a part of my cultivation."
Oliva roared with laughter. He bid the group farewell and left with Sonoda,
intending to follow up on the remaining convicts.
The long night was finally over.
Soul Combat Hub (SC Center).
Ren Shiroki, Fusui, Arisa, and Marco returned to the Hub. They called in their
specialized physician, An Sakurai, who gave Ren a thorough examination and fresh
dressings. The moment the last bandage was taped down, Ren collapsed into his
bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Compared to Ohma Tokita, Ren's injuries were relatively minor. Backed by his
hyper-refined physique and intense daily training, he spent four days in quiet
recovery before he felt the familiar itch to return to the mats.
Four Days Later, Afternoon.
The sun was shining brightly over the courtyard. Ren finished unwrapping his
bandages and stood before the full-length mirror inside the dojo. Several new
scars now decorated his torso—remnants of the hotel siege.
Fusui Kure sat cross-legged under the shade of the courtyard tree, licking a
popsicle. She watched him with a mischievous grin. "Ren-chin, how are we
feeling?"
"Nice. That's perfect!"
Ren slapped his shoulder with a sharp CLAP. He felt light, focused, and ready to
explode. He looked out into the yard and saw Lihito—the Hub's newest
member—doing solo drills. Ren beckoned him over.
"Lihito-kun! Up for a round?"
Lihito didn't need to be told twice. "You bet! Having a master to spar with is
why I signed up!"
It wasn't a deathmatch. They were doing a routine warm-up spar, keeping their
power dialed back and their speed controlled, focusing entirely on technical
trades.
"Ready—?" Fusui called out from the shade, her eyes narrowing in concentration.
"FIGHT!"
Zip!
Lihito seized the initiative.
Even though it was practice, he wasn't taking Ren lightly. He spread his
fingers, coiling for his [RAZOR'S EDGE]. But he had changed his approach.
Instead of a wild, swinging claw, he held his fingers like a "Fist of Blades,"
using a compact striking stance.
His losses to Yanagi and Dorian had taught him a bitter lesson: talent wasn't
enough. He needed to be a martial artist. No matter how sharp his fingers were,
if he couldn't hit the target or get within range, his lethality was zero.
Prioritize the hit. Sacrifice the reach for accuracy!
Lihito stood bladed, staring at Ren. Cold sweat pricked his brow. Facing the
"Monster" who had one-shotted him twice was a psychological hurdle that made his
heart hammer against his ribs.
"HA!"
In a flash, Lihito fired a rapid-fire left jab as a smokescreen for a right-hand
[RAZOR'S EDGE].
Because he was bladed, it should have been impossible to block the follow-up
right hand before it gained momentum. Lihito was sure his technical speed had
increased.
But to his shock, Ren didn't even try to dodge the jab. He stepped into the
strike, taking the impact on his upper arm.
BANG!
Lihito landed the hit, but as he prepared to pivot for the killing blow, Ren's
hand snaked out. He seized Lihito's left wrist before it could even begin to
retract.
Lihito gasped. He tried to pull back, but he was trapped in a vice.
Ren drove off his lead foot and spun. Using Lihito's own arm as a lever, he
hoisted the 100kg fighter over his hip and slammed him into the sand of the
training pit.
[RYU'S SHOULDER THROW]!
THUD!
Lihito let out a sharp cough as the wind was knocked out of him. As he struggled
to roll away, he looked up to see Ren's right foot rising. Ren's face was a mask
of malice as he aimed a crushing stomp straight for Lihito's groin.
"WAAAAH!" Lihito screamed in pure terror.
Ren aborted the stomp mid-descent, hopping back to reset his stance. He reached
down with a grin, offering Lihito a hand.
"Phew..."
Lihito stood up, checking his lower half with a look of lingering trauma.
"Scared the hell out of me! I had the perfect plan, and you still found the
gap!"
"Your timing was off," Ren analyzed, his hands on his hips. "You were so focused
on the right-hand finish that you completely abandoned the left jab. You left it
out there. It was a neon sign saying 'Please grab me'."
"I exploited your recovery frames. No matter what move you planned to follow up
with, I was always going to hit you first."
"—That is what we call a [FRAME PUNISH]!"
Lihito stood in thought, slowly tightening his fists. "So even my 'Feints' need
to be refined? Man... real battle is deep. I've gotta get back into the Kengan
ring soon. I need the exp!"
"That's the best part of combat!" Ren laughed, patting Lihito on the shoulder
before heading to the weights room for his daily strength block.
The Next Day, Just after Noon.
The Soul Combat Hub was suddenly overflowing with activity.
Marco was a permanent fixture, and Fusui was essentially a resident. Lihito had
become a daily regular.
But today...
The female underground circuit, Valkyrie, had no matches scheduled. Hina Hongo
was suffering from a severe case of "Technical Itch"—she desperately wanted to
hit something as hard as she could. Nozomi Tenma had brought her over to the Hub
for a proper sparring session.
Rama XIII had gone to have tea with Metsudo, giving the God of War a few hours
off. With nothing better to do, Gaolang had wandered over to the Hub to put in
some time on the heavy bags.
Dr. Kureha Shinogi had no surgeries today, so he had scheduled a
"Hyper-Atypical" strength session for himself at the Hub.
A collection of legends, monsters, and specialists were scattered across the
dojo and courtyard. The atmosphere was vibrating with life.
Ren finished a heavy set of deadlifts, wiping the sweat from his brow as he
looked around the facility. He was beginning to truly understand Doppo Orochi's
pride during the opening of the Shinshinkai Headquarters.
Whether it was a Dojo, a Hub, or a corporate empire—it was more than just steel
and concrete. It was the physical manifestation of a man's will. It was his
proof of existence. A territory that was unique in all the world.
"Nice. That's perfect!"
Ren noticed Gaolang and Kureha taking a break between sets. He called them over,
introducing them to each other and expanding the web of connections between the
world's elite fighters. He loved this kind of energy.
"We've met a lot of new people lately. I've handed out a lot of cards," Ren
mused, counting on his fingers. "I wonder when they'll stop by for a visit?
Gaia, Kuraishi, the Twins, Oliva... Ohma-kun..."
Kureha looked interested at the mention of Ohma. "The boy with the [Advance]?
His biology is fascinating. I'd love to study the memory-recovery process in a
brain that's survived that level of vascular pressure."
As they spoke, a shout came from the courtyard.
"Brother! We have a new guest! It's the guy from the kidnapping night!" Arisa
shouted.
Ren assumed it was Ohma and hurried out to greet him. Instead, he saw a slender,
fifty-six-year-old man standing at the gate.
It was Kazuo Yamashita.
He was carrying a gym bag filled with a brand-new tracksuit, a towel, and shoes.
He clutched a Soul Combat Hub business card in his shaking hand, looking into
the courtyard with a look of absolute dread.
"Um... excuse me..."
Kazuo saw Ren and relaxed slightly. "Ohma-san said he had his own way of
training, but... well, I've been feeling like I need to get some exercise
lately..."
He trailed off as he looked past Ren into the building. He saw Kureha Shinogi,
Gaolang Wongsawat, and a crowd of other hyper-muscular titans. A cold chill ran
down his spine.
This isn't a gym! This is a monster den!!
"My apologies! I... I have the wrong address! Goodbye!!"
Kazuo turned to flee, but Ren's hand slammed onto his shoulder like a hydraulic
press. He didn't budge an inch.
"Hahaha! Yamashita-san! Your shoulders are so tense! You're just in time!"
Ren gave him a thumbs-up and pointed toward the weights. "Come on! Let's build
some muscle!"
Clap-clap-clap-clap!
The ink-wash lines swirled in the hall as the phantom of Zangief began to clap
rhythmically to cheer the old man on.
(End of Chapter)
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