Chapter 112: Katahara Retsudo (Patreon)

Coming down from upstairs, feeling everyone's eyes on her, Juri Han said, "...Hello."

Everyone nodded back, and Juri Han came over to the table to join in on the meal — dinner doubling as a late-night snack.

Dinner was usually eaten around six or seven, and though she'd slept away most of the afternoon and missed the normal mealtime, Juri Han didn't feel the least bit hungry.

She looked listless, but in truth her spirits were quite good — she could even feel a warm current circulating through her entire body. Tracing that warmth back to its source, though, left her privately wondering just how she'd taken in all that energy...

She sighed, her expression growing more irritated by the second, and slumped over the table, letting out a soft, grumbling whine.

Beside her, Katahara Sayaka, Fusui, and the others caught sight of her reaction and blinked, as if suddenly understanding something. They said nothing, but they'd clearly already guessed.

Kure Karura, on the other hand, gazed at Juri Han with a thoughtful look — clearly wanting to pick her brain as someone with firsthand experience, all the better to properly kick off her own life plans once she'd finished her training as a future wife.

"Anyway, let's eat first."

As he spoke, Yang plated the dishes fresh from the pan onto small plates and set them before everyone in turn.

Kure Karura and the others, who'd already sampled Yang's cooking, needed no urging — they'd been waiting quietly since he'd started cooking. Katahara Sayaka, visiting for the first time, watched him with a bright, teasing smile instead, and said:

"This might sound a little odd, but I do have my own standards and opinions when it comes to food~"

"Then let's put that to the test." Hearing this, Yang didn't seem bothered in the slightest — he just flashed a confident smile. "I've got some confidence in my cooking."

"That's right."

Kure Fusui nodded firmly in agreement. "Say what you will, but using healing effect on cooking is basically cheating!"

"Especially for martial artists." Hearing Fusui's words, Kure Horisu nodded along in agreement.

"Being able to revitalize the body, healing those hidden injuries that build up quietly over time and only surface once you're old... For our clan, that's practically a tailor-made remedy."

Hearing this, even the usually carefree Kure Raian nodded along in solemn agreement, let alone anyone else.

The Kure clan's physique could adapt to Removal, but Kure Erioh's condition made it plain enough: repeated bodily overload like this would inevitably wear down those dormant redundant structures within the body.

It wasn't so bad when you were young — the body still had vitality to spare and could take the strain. But once age set in, as the accumulated wear kept piling up, every Removal ate further into what little life force remained.

Being able to detect and heal that accumulated strain meant more than just deepening the Kure clan's understanding of Removal — it could directly extend their peak condition, keeping the body from declining prematurely due to repeated Removal.

"Sounds great, but I'm no martial artist — just a host who happens to enjoy working out~"

Katahara Sayaka blinked, then turned her attention to the food Yang had brought over.

Though she claimed not to care, listening to the Kure clan's unreserved praise had left a touch of anticipation flickering across her brow.

Caught up in the Kure clan's enthusiasm, Sayaka found herself, almost without meaning to, sizing up the food with a faintly critical eye.

But even Katahara Sayaka had to admit — Yang's culinary sensibility really did have something to it.

Small as the shop was, Yang's spread was thorough all the same.

The appetizer was salted edamame — the pod ends snipped off, coarse salt scattered over the surface, chilled through with ice before being served.

Alongside the edamame came a platter of pickles and miso tofu.

The lightly pickled cucumber and radish hadn't lost their color during the brief brining — if anything, the slight dehydration made them crisp and refreshing, cutting through richness. The silken tofu was topped with finely minced ginger and scallion, and a touch of red miso.

It looked simple, yet felt remarkably generous — the color palette understated and elegant, cool and appetite-whetting, practically the perfect starter for a late-night meal.

After the appetizers came the grilled dishes: thick-cut beef tongue root, seared on one side until it curled and browned, with no marinade — just a simple dusting of black pepper and sea salt, served alongside julienned scallion whites and lemon wedges.

The premium wagyu Katahara Sayaka had brought wasn't wasted either — cut into mahjong-tile-sized chunks and quickly seared until the surface browned, sealing in the juices inside. Lifted with chopsticks, you could practically feel the crisp crackle of that seared crust.

There was also a plate of offal — beef intestine and heart, portioned and pre-marinated in minced ginger, garlic, and miso sauce to strip away any excess gaminess, then slow-simmered in sake before being finished over the grill, cooked until the casing tightened and the surface turned crisp and dry.

Normally, by this point, a cold beer, a highball, or a bowl of ochazuke or ramen would already be enough to leave most Japanese diners full and satisfied.

But given that most of the people here were martial artists, Yang had no intention of stopping there.

Instead, he methodically followed up with salt-grilled chicken with scallion, and chicken skin slow-roasted over medium heat until crisp.

After that came fresh clams, wrapped early in foil bowls and braised in the corner of the grill with butter, sake, and chopped scallion.

With meat and seafood covered, next came a vegetable platter meant to cleanse the palate.

Green peppers, asparagus, shiitake mushrooms, zucchini.

No fancy technique — just a simple salt-grilling, using high heat to seal in the juices and draw out the vegetables' natural fragrance.

With protein and vitamins covered, the meal finished with a small bowl of ochazuke for everyone.

Grilled salmon flakes or pickled plum sat atop the rice, doused with sencha tea, finished with a scatter of shredded nori and sesame — the kind of dish that looked as if it would warm the stomach and ease off any lingering alcohol.

"Drinks, help yourselves."

Yang rapped the table and hauled an ice bucket up onto it, filled with all manner of drinks. No one hesitated — everyone reached for whatever they liked, some cracking bottles open right there, others pouring into glasses, and a few even calling for ice to mix cocktails on the spot.

"Draft's over there, help yourself~"

Japan's mass-produced beer was genuinely good — most of it a refined pilsner-style lager, brewed to standards far above most cheap Western industrial lagers. Long, cold fermentation let the yeast consume the residual sugars completely, leaving almost no cloying sweetness on the finish, and brewing with soft water kept off-flavors and astringency to a minimum. It went down crisp and clean, well suited as a late-night pairing with grilled meat, yakitori, sashimi, and the like.

Though for some drinkers, that same crispness could just as easily be described as thin on malt aroma, weak on hop bitterness, light-bodied, and watery.

But in the height of summer, for drinkers chugging it down by the pitcher, that was more a virtue than a flaw.

"Looks pretty good~"

Katahara Sayaka licked her lips. "The presentation's definitely on point!"

"I'm confident in the taste too~" Yang shrugged, looking utterly at ease, as if he had everything well in hand. Watching him, Sayaka nodded along in full agreement.

Then, curious, she looked over at him and asked, "Though... can I ask why there's so much extra food laid out?"

She glanced toward the empty seats to the side, where several dishes sat plated and untouched, waiting for no one.

"Are more guests coming?"

"Something like that." Hearing her question, Yang glanced toward the door. "Well, since you're already here, why not come in and eat?"

Hearing this, Kure Karura, Kure Raian, and the others didn't seem particularly surprised — they just kept eagerly enjoying the food in front of them.

Katahara Sayaka and Kure Fusui, on the other hand, both looked surprised. They turned to look behind them, and after a moment, out of the deep night, two figures stepped slowly forward following a brief silence.

Both men — one tall, one short. One had red hair, half-long, tied into a small braid that hung down from one side of his forehead. Despite wearing a crisply tailored suit, his face bore tattoos, giving him a look that, frankly, felt rather unconventional.

The other was somewhat shorter, with short hair, his expression easygoing and languid.

Seeing the two figures, surprise crossed Katahara Sayaka's face. "Wait — Retsudo? Misasa? What are you two doing here?"

The two figures stepping out of the darkness turned out to be none other than members of the Extermination Force — a special unit within the Bodyguards, Katahara Metsudo's private army.

Katahara Retsudo, Katahara Metsudo's son and Sayaka's younger brother, personally led the Extermination Force.

Misasa, meanwhile, served as Retsudo's second-in-command and martial arts instructor.

If Yang remembered right, after the first part of Kengan Ashura ended — when Kanoh, the fifth Fang of Metsudo, left to travel and train around the world — Misasa had succeeded him, becoming the seventh Fang of Metsudo. He'd gone on to defeat, during the war between the Kengan Association and Purgatory, a traitor who had once held the title of sixth Fang of Metsudo.

Now, feeling everyone's eyes on him, a wistful look crossed Misasa's face. He scratched his head and laughed helplessly.

"So I told you we should've just come out from the start. That Yang guy's obviously no ordinary martial artist — hiding perfectly from him was never going to happen."

Hearing this, a flicker of embarrassment crossed Retsudo's face, but he forced himself to clear his throat. "Guardians are supposed to stay hidden in the shadows... Getting spotted is a different matter entirely."

"That's a weird distinction to make." Misasa said it with total nonchalance. "Trying to hide your presence in front of an assassin clan like the Kures is a tall order."

"That's a separate issue..."

Retsudo looked a little embarrassed, but forced a straight face and sat down anyway.

Misasa, by contrast, seemed far more cheerful — he plopped down into his seat and grabbed his chopsticks without hesitation. "Dig in!"

"Go ahead~"

Yang nodded, picked up a beer beside him, and leaned against the counter, sipping away at his leisure.

Retsudo, on the other hand, shot Yang a suspicious glance before slowly picking up his own chopsticks.

As for Retsudo showing up here, honestly, Yang wasn't particularly surprised.

Simply put, Retsudo was a Monster Hunter Charge Blade main in human form — full guard mode, sister-complex to the core.

Still, Yang could understand why Retsudo was such a sister-complex... After all, she was beautiful, gracious, understanding, wealthy beyond measure, and her figure and looks were top-tier besides...

Under those circumstances, it was only natural for Retsudo to be so attached to his sister.

Except someone like Katahara Sayaka was bound to attract more than her fair share of suitors, however you looked at it.

Especially as the eldest daughter Katahara Metsudo hadn't had until he was past seventy, doted on completely — combined with Japan's own well-established custom of taking in an adopted son-in-law heir, it went without saying that no shortage of men were angling for a shortcut to the top.

It wasn't unheard of, either, among Japan's many family-run businesses, for an adopted son-in-law heir to prove so capable that the family's own bloodline heir ended up relegated to a supporting role, forced to seek his fortune elsewhere.

And in this age of flourishing martial arts, taking in a powerful fighter as an in-marrying heir to secure the family legacy had become a fairly common occurrence.

It was precisely because of this that Retsudo's most frequent pastime was clearing away the tactless, ill-intentioned men who fancied themselves shortcuts to the top, all on his sister's behalf.

And now, quite clearly, Retsudo was on high alert regarding Yang's status.

Though he said nothing, Yang could tell from the look in Retsudo's eyes that the man had no intention of easily approving of him.

Yang wasn't bothered by it, though — some things naturally shifted your perspective once you'd actually experienced them.

Sensing how easygoing Yang seemed, Retsudo found himself starting to wonder if he was being too tense about this... Otherwise, why did Yang seem completely unfazed?

Still, no matter what, Retsudo wasn't about to let his guard down even slightly.

He couldn't help it — given his own accomplishments and family standing, he'd seen more than enough men with dishonest intentions set their sights on his sister.

As for Yang — formidable strength, a clean background, a handsome, striking look, and he could even cook well besides... Even though his own father thought highly of him, Retsudo simply wasn't convinced.

The reason was simple: in Retsudo's eyes, his sister was just too good for anyone.

Even if his father had already given his approval, Retsudo wasn't about to hand over his own so easily — especially not when Yang already had a whole flock of women fluttering around him!

With that thought, Retsudo swept his gaze over Kure Karura, Kure Fusui, and the others nearby.

He knew them, more or less, and knew these women weren't the type to be trifled with. But even if Yang won all of their approval — he'd never get approval from him, Katahara Retsudo!!

As he mulled this over, Retsudo's eyes sharpened. Expressionless, he picked up a single edamame pod, ready to give it a quick taste and deliver a sharp critique.

But the next moment, Retsudo fell silent. After a brief hesitation, he said:

"Uh... could you get me a beer? Thanks."