Chapter 313: A Joy Like Liberation
Kure Village was a small place, yet it was home to many who lived within the
"Underworld." Consequently, the battle surrounding Doyle naturally drew a crowd
of spectators.
Shadowy figures lingered at the mouths of the alleys and on the balconies. A few
Kure members helped the wounded Jun Sekibayashi toward the medical clinic, while
the rest remained to witness Doyle's final curtain.
Is this how it ends? Doyle wondered, his gaze scanning the perimeter.
Indeed, this was the "End."
Doyle's vision was growing dim, and he couldn't quite put words to the sensation
in his chest. His only remaining impulse was Combat—one last trade of souls with
Ren Shiroki.
But how was he supposed to fight? His internal mechanisms were shattered; the
springs wouldn't coil, the blades wouldn't snap out. He was out of tricks. As
for "Escape," the onlookers had blocked every exit. In his near-death state,
running was a biological impossibility.
Yet, even in this absolute despair, he still wanted to fight.
No, that wasn't right. Doyle corrected himself. No matter how dire the
circumstances, they had nothing to do with the "Battle" he craved!
"So... it's fine..."
Doyle lowered his center of gravity, dropping into a forward-leaning combat
stance. He began a slow, staggering approach toward Ren.
Ren Shiroki pulled off his ruined shirt and tossed it to Fusui Kure. He studied
the convict's broken frame and offered a sincere smile. "Doyle-aniki... you've
got a magnificent countenance!"
"Heh!"
Doyle let out a dry chuckle. Using the last dregs of his stamina, he slid
forward and fired a lead-fist straight.
Zip!
Ren tilted his head, letting the fist whistle past with a minimal shift of his
weight. If Doyle had snapped out his wrist-blade—even a loose, rattling one—he
might have caught Ren's cheek. But he didn't. He simply threw an honest, unarmed
punch.
"HYAH!"
Having missed his mark, Doyle drove off the ground and pivoted, launching a
mid-level roundhouse kick. Ren raised his left arm to absorb the blow.
BANG!
The kick slammed into Ren's forearm. The remaining power was just enough to
force Ren to slide a few centimeters across the pavement.
"GET SOME!"
Doyle gritted his teeth, squeezing every microgram of energy from his cells. He
unleashed a frantic barrage of punches and kicks. The sound of
impacts—thud-thud-thud—echoed through the alley as his limbs struck Ren's
body.
Ren stood firm, his guard up and his core locked. He stood rooted amidst the
storm of Doyle's strikes. Even a layman could see that Doyle was doing zero
damage. Ren was effectively a stone wall being pelted by rain.
But Ren didn't counter. He maintained his defense, letting Doyle fight until he
was satisfied. He was letting the convict have his "Battle."
Slowly... Ren lowered his guard.
He stood in a relaxed, open posture, taking Doyle's hits directly to his chest
and face without flinching.
Pow! Bang!
Doyle landed two heavy punches on Ren's face, drawing a fresh line of blood from
the youth's nose. It was the absolute limit of his strength.
"..."
Doyle's movements slowed to a crawl. His stamina hit zero.
"Doyle-aniki. Let's end it here."
Ren's gaze sharpened.
"HA!"
He fired a high-speed mid-section hook that caught Doyle in the gut. The convict
let out a muffled groan of pain. Ren followed up with a low-level right
scan-kick to the shin, forcing Doyle to stumble forward and exposing his throat.
Ren performed a half-step back-hop and snapped his left leg forward.
ZIP!
[RYU'S TRIPLE IMPACT]!
The foot-blade whistled toward Doyle's throat, but the impact never came.
Using his absolute sovereignty over his own biology, Ren stopped the strike a
millimeter from the target. He simply held his foot there, the side of his sole
resting lightly against Doyle's jugular.
"Ungh—"
Doyle's body sagged. His throat was pressed against the "blade" of Ren's foot by
the weight of his own collapse. His vision was fading.
Yet, he managed to raise his left hand. He didn't strike. He gently tapped his
own chest.
"This..." Doyle's voice was a raspy, broken croak. "In the traditional etiquette
of my homeland... this is how you surrender."
"The formal way is to kneel and have you step over my jacket... but I don't
think my legs can handle the kneeling part..."
Doyle's voice trailed off.
In the heartbeat before he lost consciousness, he had finished his life's first
true battle. He had finally accepted defeat. Strangely, what flooded his soul
wasn't bitterness or shame. It was a wave of pure, crystalline Joy. It was
Liberation.
The corner of Doyle's mouth curled upward. He was actually smiling as he faced
the end of the match.
THUD.
Doyle fell sideways, hitting the pavement in total silence.
Ren retracted his leg and hoisted a tightened right fist toward the sky. He let
out a celebratory "BOOM!" as he acknowledged the silent spectators.
"I won!"
Clap-clap-clap-clap—!
Kugo Kurachi was the first to applaud, followed by Fusui. Soon, the entire alley
was filled with the sound of cheers. They weren't cheering for a winner; they
were celebrating the purity of the spirit they had just witnessed.
Ten Minutes Later, Kure Main Estate.
The doors to Official Sonoda's guest quarters were kicked open, jolting the
high-ranking lawman from a deep sleep.
"Wha—?! Eh?! Who goes there?!"
Sonoda blinked his blurry eyes, staring at the silhouettes in the doorway. He
saw Ren Shiroki, Fusui Kure, and Kurachi. He also noticed a person draped over
Kurachi's massive shoulder.
"Hm??"
Sonoda rubbed his face, his skin oily and his mind still lost in a haze of
dreams. He sat on his futon for five long seconds before murmuring, "Is this a
dream?"
Ren bared his teeth in a grin. "Sonoda-aniki! We caught Doyle for you."
Sonoda: "..."
As the name registered, Sonoda's brain tried to go back to sleep. Doyle? The
death row convict? Right... he's one of those guys... wait...
Sonoda: "..." Sonoda: "..." Sonoda: "WAIT, WHAT?!"
The middle-aged official bolted upright, his sleepiness vanishing in a jolt of
pure adrenaline. He stared out the door. "What the hell are you talking about?!"
After a period of frantic logistical chaos, Sonoda finally managed to process
the situation.
The result was unexpected. Among the five death row convicts, Doyle was a
special case. His name didn't appear on any international most-wanted lists.
Because of his "Special Agent" status, his records were classified as "Unknown"
in every global database. No one actually knew what he had done before his
secret execution.
As such, Sonoda technically didn't have the authority to process him.
But as a righteous man of the law, he wasn't about to let a mass murderer walk
free. Fortunately, Doyle showed zero interest in escaping. He was perfectly
content to let them do whatever they wanted with him.
Ultimately, Doyle was moved to the Kure medical wing for treatment and
containment under Clan guard. His final fate would be decided by the top brass
of the MPD in Tokyo once Sonoda's report reached them.
Two Days Later. The Day of the Kure Village Summer Festival!
The festive atmosphere had reached its zenith. The final "Main Event" at the
octagon was scheduled for the afternoon, followed by the long-awaited Grand
Fireworks Display in the evening.
Early Morning, Fusui's Estate.
Ren Shiroki woke up with the sun. After washing up, he walked barefoot into the
garden. He began unwrapping the final bandages from his torso, revealing a map
of fresh scars.
Every single one was a medal of his journey.
"I feel... incredible."
Ren took a deep breath, standing tall on the lush grass. He settled his feet,
blading his body as he dropped into his signature combat stance—lead arm low,
right arm guarding his jaw.
He had only been there for a few minutes when—"Mm!"
Fusui Kure emerged from her room, stretching like a cat. She sat on the wooden
porch, leaning against a pillar and letting her legs dangle as she watched him.
She looked relaxed and blissfully comfortable.
They were used to this shared silence.
But suddenly, the sound of rhythmic footsteps drew their attention. They turned
to see the "Saint of War," Gouki Shibukawa, strolling through the gate.
The gate wasn't locked; the old master had simply let himself in, wearing his
usual cheerful smirk.
"Oho! Good morning! Forgive the intrusion!"
The little old man sat on the porch beside Fusui and pulled two small packets of
tea leaves from his gi.
"This is the top-shelf stuff. Very expensive. Erio has been eyeing it for
months, so I told him I'd run out. I figured we should drink it all before he
notices it's missing!"
Shibukawa winked. "A little festival treat from me~!"
He looked toward Ren. "So, what's the kid doing?"
Fusui stood up to brew the tea, a mischievous grin on her face. "It's about to
start, Sensei—Ren-chin's daily routine."
(End of Chapter)
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