Chapter 414: Surgery
"THE MATCH IS DECIDED—!!!"
Sayaka Katahara's voice thundered through the Arena, her declaration slicing
through the thick tension. "The [CORD-CUTTER] has finally been halted!"
"After a blood-soaked war of attrition—the anthem of victory tonight plays for
the [SOUL COMBATANT], Ren Shiroki!!"
"Winner—Ren Shiroki!!!"
Kosho Shinogi lay on his side, his face a mask of pulverized tissue and gore.
His eyes were rolled back, his consciousness finally surrendering as he hit the
sand with a heavy thud.
Ringside medics immediately swarmed the pit, hauling over stretchers and oxygen
tanks to begin emergency trauma stabilization on the Cord-Cutter.
A few meters away, Ren Shiroki stood alone.
He was painted in crimson. Half was the spray from Kosho's broken face; the
other half was the steady leak from his own surgical lacerations. Fresh beads of
blood bubbled on the surface of his skin, mixing with sweat to form a
glistening, macabre armor.
The sand beneath his feet was a canvas of dark red splatters. It was a scene
more vibrant than any royal cape—the pure, raw aesthetic of battle.
Regrettably, there were no mirrors for him to admire the sight. Ren's eyes were
vacant, the world around him reduced to a total, ink-black void.
Kosho was hoisted onto the stretcher. After some frantic stabilization and the
application of an oxygen mask, his limbs remained leaden, but he managed to
force his eyes open.
"Ren..."
His raspy voice caught the attention of the dazed Ren Shiroki. Following the
sound, Ren tentatively shuffled half a step toward the stretcher, tilting his
head as he wondered why the man was calling him.
Suddenly—
Ren felt a warmth on his chest. The contact was strange.
Kosho had exerted the last of his strength to raise a trembling hand, pressing
his palm flat against Ren's pectoral. There was a light slap as the hand made
contact.
In the darkness, Ren could almost feel Kosho's gaze scanning his frame.
"Look at you, Ren... what beautiful scars. What perfect limbs. What magnificent
strikes..."
Kosho's eyelids fluttered, a weak, technical chuckle escaping his lips. "Too
bad... you're blind for now. You probably won't see how good you look for a
week."
"Your sight will return slowly." Kosho dropped his hand, exhaling a plume of hot
air. His tone was a mixture of frustration and total satisfaction. "In the end,
Ren... you were the one who took that extra step. You reached a realm I haven't
touched yet. You have my respect."
"But don't you dare stop. If you slow down, I'll be right on your heels..."
"—"
Kosho's voice was too quiet for the spectators to hear. But the visual of the
fallen warrior pressing his hand to the victor's chest was broadcast on the big
screens for everyone to see. A fresh explosion of cheers erupted.
"Great fight, Ren!" "You're both legends!! AAAAAAAAAAARGH!" "Don't lose next
time, Kosho! Cut him again!!"
The wall of sound hit Ren like a physical gale.
Ren took a deep, shaky breath. He felt a sense of technical euphoria—as if he
were being bathed in a glory that couldn't be found anywhere else on earth.
It was the same after every war. The confusion, the agony, the extreme peril...
all the things normal people avoided were the very things that made Ren feel
truly alive. He was vibrating with an intensity that only fellow predators could
understand.
The Seeker's path—the desire to be strong.
Everyone in this room believed it: even in an age of AI and Mars-bound rockets,
there would always be monsters who chose to seek the apex with nothing but their
own flesh and blood.
Zip!
Ren raised his bandaged right fist toward the ceiling. Even in his lightless
world, he knew exactly where he stood.
"I WON!!"
The inner circle of friends and legends soon arrived at the ringside railing.
Fusui Kure leaned over the wood, waving frantically at the boy in the sand.
"Ren-chin! Over here!!"
Ren tilted his head, his pupils static. He used his ears to track the girl's
voice.
Metsudo Katahara chuckled. "Ho ho! A beautiful performance!"
Beside him, Kanoh Agito stared at the deep gashes on Ren's neck. "Both primary
optic nerves were cleanly severed. His eyes... will he truly be alright?"
"He'll be fine!"
Tokugawa gave a mischievous grin. "The Pit's surgical team is world-class.
Besides... Kureha is here."
Dr. Kureha Shinogi offered a serene smile, neither confirming nor denying the
statement.
[The Infirmary]
The resident doctor was an eccentric old man with messy white hair and a manic
personality. Despite his odd behavior, his surgical skills were legendary. He
had put Baki Hanma back together a hundred times.
But tonight, he was more than happy to act as a mere assistant. After all, the
"Great Doctor" was in the room.
Ren, covered in blood and bandages, was helped into a surgical chair. Across
from him stood Dr. Kureha Shinogi, still in his casual designer clothes.
Kureha reached out, gently tilting Ren's head. He looked at the resident doctor
and offered a polite smile. "My apologies for using your clinic while I'm not in
scrubs. I hope you don't mind."
"Aha! Not at all! No doctor on this planet would refuse you, Dr. Shinogi!" The
old man waved a hand frantically. "I still remember the time you performed a
manual cardiac massage on Doppo Orochi in this very room! That was a
masterpiece!"
Kureha sighed modestly. "Heh. That's all in the past."
Doppo Orochi, leaning against the wall in the corner, nodded. "Yeah, yeah...
it's all history now."
Ren looked pained. "Kureha-aniki... how are the eyes looking? Am I a goner?"
Kureha teased him, "Oh? I thought a 'Street Combatant' wouldn't care about a
little thing like blindness."
Ren winced as the doctor's fingers probed his neck. "I care! I care a lot!!"
"Relax, relax."
Kureha inspected the wounds, his tone turning clinical. "The nerve cords were
cleanly severed. Maybe I should just use some super-glue to stick them back
together?"
Ren: "..."
Ren's muscles stiffened as he prepared to protest. His attention was completely
diverted.
Now.
Zip!
Kureha's hands blurred. He drove his index fingers and thumbs directly into the
open lacerations on either side of Ren's neck. His fingers began to probe and
weave with a speed that bypassed the human eye.
The observers gasped.
"Wait... is he doing the surgery? Bare-handed?!" "Oho! During the Maximum
Tournament, Kosho cut Kureha's nerves in the ring, and Kureha fixed them while
the match was still live!" "Ho ho ho! I never get tired of seeing this—" "As
expected of the Great Physician."
It was a technique that required a god-like familiarity with human anatomy. Only
Kureha Shinogi could operate on the most vital "wires" of the neck using nothing
but his own fingers.
Even so, it wasn't painless. Ren's teeth bared in a silent snarl of agony as the
fingers manipulated his internal tissue. A few fresh trickles of blood leaked
from the wounds.
Seconds later, before Ren's muscles could contract in a trauma-response, Kureha
withdrew his hands. He picked up a roll of sterile gauze and began wrapping it
around Ren's head, covering both eyes.
"That's it. I'll leave the rest to you, Doctor."
Kureha stepped back, allowing the resident old-timer to take over and dress
Ren's other wounds. Kureha walked to the sink to wash the blood from his hands.
"A combatant's healing rate is far beyond a civilian's," Kureha said, looking at
Fusui. "There won't be any lasting damage. I've reconnected the lines, but don't
take the bandages off for three days."
"After that, keep his eyes closed for a while and use dark sunglasses to avoid
light-shock. Full recovery should take about a week."
Fusui nodded solemnly, recording every instruction on her phone.
The resident doctor finished the cleanup. Ren's torso was a map of stitches and
sterile dressings. He was told to rest and avoid high-torque movement for a few
days, but overall, he was in the clear.
Fusui stood by Ren's side, her hand hovering tentatively near his arm. As a
sniper, she valued vision above all else; even knowing he was fine, she couldn't
help but feel a protective dread.
Seeing this, Kureha walked over and gave Ren a heavy, boisterous slap on the
back.
CLAP!
The sound echoed through the sterile room.
Ren, sitting in total darkness, nearly jumped out of his skin. "WAAAH!"
The legends in the room burst into a collective roar of laughter.
"See? He's fine. Your Ren-chin is as sturdy as a tank," Kureha chuckled, handing
the girl the official medical summary.
Suddenly, a voice grumbled from behind a curtain in the next bay. "Could you
keep it down? Some of us are trying to be injured in peace over here."
Hearing the familiar voice, Ren let out a helpless laugh. "Shinogi-kun? You're
in this room too?"
The curtain was pulled back to reveal Kosho Shinogi. He had been brought in
first; he had multiple hairline fractures in his ribs and jaw. He was lying on a
hospital bed, looking exhausted.
"Of course I'm here," Kosho smirked. "I needed Aniki's handiwork as well."
Kureha laughed. "A tale for the ages—a genius of medicine supporting the
geniuses of war."
Ren shook his head slowly, feeling the weight of the bandages over his eyes. He
reached out to find Fusui's hand. He turned his head toward the direction of
Kosho's voice and sighed.
"Shinogi-kun... your [CORD-CUTTER] is terrifying. Seriously."
Kosho froze for a second, then a genuine grin touched his bruised face. "Tell me
something I don't know, Shiroki!"
☆☆☆
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