February 25, 1988. The location was Fukagawa, in Koto Ward, a place near Tokyo Bay that had long been filled with aging warehouses and old industrial buildings. The environment here was harsh and unpleasant. The air constantly carried the smell of rust because of the seawater, and when the tide went out, the exposed mud left behind a strong fishy odor that lingered everywhere. This was not a place where ordinary people would want to stay for long.
Deep inside this district, there was a group of abandoned cold storage warehouses that were once used for deep-sea fishing operations. Among them, one warehouse labeled "S-01" stood out because of what was happening inside. The atmosphere there was extremely tense and quiet, almost suffocating, as if the air itself had weight.
The ceiling of the warehouse was about fifteen meters high, and several large industrial lamps hung from above. These lamps gave off a constant buzzing sound, and their yellowish light made everything look dull and lifeless. Under this lighting, one hundred and twenty men stood in formation. All of them were shirtless, their bodies covered in sweat, their muscles tense.
They were undergoing a brutal training exercise called "Extreme Load." This was not just physical training. It was designed to break a person mentally as well.
They worked in pairs. One person would hold a solid iron rod that had been wrapped in thick rubber, making it slightly less deadly but still extremely painful when it struck. The other person had no weapon and no protective gear. Their only job was to block, deflect, or avoid the attacks using their arms and specific movements.
The sound of impact echoed repeatedly through the warehouse.
"Thud. Thud. Thud."
Each strike hit flesh with heavy force. Sweat ran down their bodies and dripped onto the cold concrete floor, breaking apart instantly upon contact.
These men were not ordinary recruits. Among them were former detectives who had been expelled from the Metropolitan Police Department because they used excessive violence. There were also failed boxers from the underground fighting rings of Shinjuku, as well as recently retired paratroopers from the Self-Defense Forces' First Airborne Brigade. Many of them still carried the presence of people who had seen real combat.
Originally, these men were uncontrollable, each one acting on their own instincts like wild animals. But now, something had changed. They moved with coordination, like parts of a machine. Orders were followed without hesitation. Even when they were clearly in pain, no one made a sound.
Suddenly, a sharp sound broke the rhythm.
"Click."
It was the sound of a stopwatch being pressed.
On the second-floor metal walkway, Dojima Gen stood watching everything below. He held a black military-style clipboard in his hand. Unlike typical trainers who shouted loudly and insulted their trainees, he remained calm. His expression did not change. He observed everything like a technician inspecting a machine.
His eyes focused on one specific pair in the corner.
"Group Three, Matsuda."
His voice came through a loudspeaker. It was steady and cold, with no emotion, yet it immediately made the man named Matsuda stiffen.
"Present!"
Matsuda straightened his body instantly and shouted his response.
Dojima Gen continued without raising his voice.
"Where are you looking? Are you staring at the opponent's weapon?"
There was a brief pause, then he spoke again.
"Your reaction was delayed by 0.3 seconds. In a real situation, that delay would mean the person you are protecting has already been killed multiple times. You would also already be dead."
He wrote something on his clipboard with force, the pen pressing so hard that it tore the paper slightly.
"One demerit. Three demerits, and you're out. You go back to carrying cargo at the docks."
"Yes, sir!"
Matsuda responded loudly, not daring to argue.
This entire operation was the early stage of building Saionji Security, also known as S.A. Security. The goal was not to train fighters, but to create a highly efficient private force that could handle dangerous situations, including those similar to military conflicts.
Dojima Gen was not creating individuals. He was building a system.
"Stop."
He pressed the stopwatch again.
Immediately, all one hundred and twenty men stopped moving at the exact same moment. Even though they were exhausted, breathing heavily, none of them collapsed.
"Assemble."
Within ten seconds, they formed clean and organized lines. Their level of discipline was even higher than that of many regular military units. And this had only taken two weeks to achieve.
Dojima Gen walked down from the second floor. His boots made a heavy "clank" sound with each step on the metal stairs. When he reached the front, the pressure he gave off made the men in the front row instinctively tense up.
Behind him, a blackboard was revealed. Instead of combat techniques, it displayed a structured organizational diagram.
Dojima Gen tapped the board lightly.
"Most people think bodyguards are just there to take hits or block bullets."
He paused briefly.
"That is wrong. Those are low-level bodyguards. They are disposable."
He then pointed at the diagram.
"High-level security is a system. Like a network. If one part is touched, the entire system reacts."
He wrote down three divisions.
"After two weeks, you are now barely qualified to be part of this system."
He looked at them coldly.
"From today onward, you will be reorganized. Forget who you were before. It does not matter what you used to be."
He pointed at the first group.
"Group One, Counter-Intelligence Section."
His gaze stopped on several men who looked less physically imposing but more observant.
"You do not need strength. You do not even need weapons. You will learn surveillance, detection, and information analysis. Your job is to identify threats before they act."
He continued.
"You are the eyes and ears."
Then he looked at another group.
"Group Two, Close Protection Section."
These were the largest and strongest individuals.
"You will act as the final defense. You will ensure that the protected target is moved to safety within seconds. If necessary, you will use your bodies to shield them."
Finally, he looked at the most dangerous-looking men.
"Group Three, Special Tactics Section."
His voice lowered slightly.
"You handle active threats. If someone intends harm, you eliminate them before they can act. There are no restrictions. Only results matter."
At that moment, it became clear. This was no longer a group of trainees. It was becoming an organized force.
"Right face."
The large metal door on the side of the warehouse slowly opened with a loud mechanical sound.
Inside was not a locker room, but an equipment storage area.
On the walls hung black suits reinforced with hidden bulletproof materials. On the tables were neatly arranged batons, tactical flashlights, gloves, and advanced communication devices.
"These are provided by the Young Lady."
Dojima Gen picked up one of the communication devices.
"Put them on. From now on, you are no longer what you used to be."
He looked at them directly.
"You are the weapons of the Saionji Family."
At 3:00 PM, the warehouse doors opened again. Sunlight entered, cutting through the dim interior.
Satsuki walked in, wearing her school uniform under a black coat. She held a document folder in her hand. Behind her were seven young men in suits, including Fujita Tsuyoshi.
Their clean and orderly appearance sharply contrasted with the rough and intense environment inside.
"Young Lady."
Dojima Gen stepped forward and saluted.
"The first phase of training is complete."
Satsuki reviewed the report and nodded.
"Good work."
She then introduced the group behind her.
"This is Fujita Tsuyoshi. They will join the training starting today."
Dojima Gen looked at Fujita Tsuyoshi carefully.
"This is your chosen defense?"
Fujita stepped forward.
"Mr. Dojima, we have trained since childhood. We are fully capable of protecting her."
Dojima Gen gave a small laugh.
"Training?"
He turned his head slightly.
"Yamada. Step forward."
A seemingly ordinary man walked out.
"Fight him. Your objective is to protect that target."
Fujita nodded.
"Understood."
Before he could finish speaking, Yamada suddenly threw coins at his face.
"Clink!"
Fujita instinctively raised his arm to block.
In that brief moment, Yamada rushed forward, slammed into him, and stabbed a pen into the mannequin behind him.
"Thwack."
The result was immediate.
"You lost."
Fujita's face changed, but he could not argue.
"That was dishonorable!" someone behind him shouted.
Dojima Gen stepped forward.
"Outside, no one follows rules. They will use anything to kill you."
He looked directly at Fujita.
"Your training is not enough."
Silence followed.
Finally, Satsuki spoke.
"Enough."
She stepped between them.
"Tsuyoshi, he is correct."
She looked at him seriously.
"Loyalty alone is not enough."
Then she turned to Dojima.
"Train them properly."
Dojima nodded.
"Understood."
Later, they moved deeper into the warehouse.
Two large vehicles were revealed.
"These are the mobile fortresses."
They were armored cars, built for extreme protection.
Satsuki looked at them calmly.
"Good."
Then she turned serious.
"From today, Level 1 Alert."
She handed over a photo.
"This man is our enemy."
Dojima took it.
"Understood."
Satsuki's voice became cold.
"If he acts…"
She paused slightly.
"Stop him completely."
Dojima nodded.
"If he comes…"
He spoke calmly.
"We still have empty storage space here."
The meaning was clear.
No one spoke after that.