Chapter 113: Balrog Arrives (Patreon)

At first, Katahara Retsudo had eaten with a critical, scrutinizing eye. After all, as the eldest son of the Bank of Japan's president, no delicacy of land or sea could impress him much.

Simple street food like this, in Retsudo's eyes, was fine as a passing diversion, but treating it as some kind of exquisite delicacy seemed baffling no matter how you looked at it.

But the moment the beans touched his tongue, Retsudo suddenly understood why people loved eating outdoors on hot summer nights, letting the evening breeze wash over them.

He'd come the whole way suppressing his presence, and as a martial artist, Retsudo wasn't the type to break into a sweat from a bit of heat like an ordinary person would. But there was no denying that hours of masking his presence had left a stifling heat pent up in his chest.

The bean hit his tongue with a jolt of cold first, the chilled kernel popping between his teeth with a soft snap. The plain saltiness cut through it like a sharp blade, splitting open the faint sweetness of the green bean, leaving behind that distinctive lingering aftertaste unique to soybeans, layered with fragrance and sweetness.

Was it some incredible delicacy? Absolutely not.

It was just edamame boiled in salt water with star anise, bay leaves, and the like. If anything, the only real skill was in getting the timing exactly right and handling it with care — even the ends of the pods had been snipped off beforehand with scissors, so the flavor could seep in and diners could eat them more easily.

But it was exactly that plain flavor — the faint saltiness swirling with the beany aftertaste in his mouth — that made even a sweltering, irritating summer night feel not so bad after all.

And... it would be even better with a glass of ice-cold beer.

"Here." Watching this sister-complexed kid awkwardly want more, Yang didn't bother making him ask twice, sliding a mug of fizzy draft beer in front of him instead.

At first Retsudo meant to sip it politely, but he quickly realized that beer — especially on a cool summer night — was meant to be tipped back and gulped down for real satisfaction.

He drained nearly half the liter mug in one go, and as the crisp malty aroma mingled with a faint bitter hop scent and rising bubbles washed over him, Retsudo let out a long breath, as if trying to expel every bit of stifling heat that had built up while he'd been hiding.

With that breath released, Retsudo instantly felt refreshed.

He was about to compliment the food, but then remembered he'd come here to find fault. Glancing around out of habit, he found no one paying him any mind — everyone else was just eating, drinking, laughing, and chatting about their plans and insights into martial arts.

Noticing Retsudo's reaction, Yang beside him tipped his chin toward the food. "Don't just drink — eat too."

"...Right." Retsudo turned his head aside, a little embarrassed, clearly aware his reaction had been somewhat undignified.

But the feeling didn't last long — as soon as the next bite hit his mouth, all his attention shifted straight to his tongue and taste buds.

The crisp draft beer rinsed his palate clean, sweeping away the last of the lingering heat and leaving a refreshing base behind.

He picked up a slice of lightly pickled cucumber and bit down — crisp, with a bright tartness that woke up his taste buds. The miso tofu's saltiness was rich and heavy, wrapped in the bite of minced ginger, all of it tempered by the cool smoothness of the tofu.

The beef tongue was grilled to perfection, its edges curled and charred, sea salt and black pepper releasing a warm fragrance in the heat. As he chewed, the charred crust crackled faintly between his teeth, the tender interior chewy yet springy, meat juices mixing with the salty savor of the seasoning and a faint whiff of smoke.

The wagyu had shrunk slightly from grilling, its browned crust perfectly crisp, and biting down produced a faint crackle before the piping-hot, luscious meat slowly melted in his mouth. The rich fat aroma surged like an incoming tide, dense and mellow — and just as the richness began to feel heavy, a swallow of ice-cold beer washed it down, the fine bubbles making the malt aroma taste all the more vivid while dissolving away the greasiness, leaving nothing behind but a clean finish...

While Retsudo was still quietly savoring his meal, over on the other side, Misasa was eating with an expression of open amazement, marveling aloud between bites:

"Oh, oh! Delicious, delicious! So good, so good! If I'd known, I'd have come sooner — I've got to bring some back for Anzhang and the others later!"

Hearing Misasa's words, Katahara Sayaka beside him laughed. "Misasa's just the same as always — always so blunt about saying whatever's on his mind."

"Because it's delicious. No one could deny that, no matter who they are."

Hearing Sayaka's remark, Misasa replied just as casually, "Come to think of it, I never expected a little place like this to exist somewhere in Old City. If it were in the city proper, that'd be great — coming all the way out here specially does take some time."

With that, Misasa paused, falling into a brief silence, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes. He turned his gaze back to Yang, and after registering the subtle changes steadily building inside his own body, nodded thoughtfully.

"Ah, there it is. So this is the secret healing effect of Mourning-Style and Abhor-Style Ansatsuken? Now that's something I've never heard of."

With that, Misasa's pace of eating slowed noticeably, clearly savoring the sensation of that energy circulating through his body.

No one at the table seemed surprised by Misasa's reaction.

Or perhaps, they'd all gone through the same stage themselves at some point.

By contrast, though this was also Sayaka's first time eating here, she was clearly more absorbed in simply enjoying the food, without noticing the healing effect's nourishing touch at all.

Since she wasn't a martial artist, Yang had deliberately lowered the conversion rate of healing effect in her portion, focusing instead mainly on conditioning and flavor enhancement.

"Speaking of which, A-Yang starts school officially tomorrow, right? Since we're both in the Central School District, want to go together?"

Kure Karura asked between bites, curious.

"No need — I already made plans with Baki."

Yang shook his head. "He passes by here every day during his morning training, so we'll just head out together then."

"Aw, all right then."

Hearing that Yang already had plans, Karura didn't push the matter, simply nodding as she recalled what she knew about Baki.

Mentioning Baki reminded Yang of something. "Come to think of it... at the Kengan match today, what was the deal with that aikido master who showed up out of nowhere? Is he part of the Kengan Association too?"

There was some curiosity in Yang's voice.

Shibukawa Goki, who'd appeared in Baki's story, held a certain standing in mainstream society — Yang had assumed he'd keep some distance from a rough-and-tumble organization like the Kengan Association. But apparently the two already had some connection?

Hearing Yang's question, Karura didn't answer directly, instead nodding toward the Katahara siblings. "These two probably know more about how the Kengan Association operates."

"The operations side, huh."

Hearing Yang's words, Sayaka's expression showed a flash of understanding, and she explained:

"What A-Yang's really curious about is the choices accomplished fighters make, right? Like how some choose to fight in the Kengan Association, while others go with Underground Arena instead."

"Yeah." Yang nodded. "Do different underground arenas have different requirements, when it comes to which fighters they'll take?"

"You mean whether someone registered with the Kengan Association can go fight in other arenas? That's not a problem."

Hearing Yang's question, Sayaka answered at an unhurried pace.

"The Baki you mentioned just now must be Grandpa Tokugawa's young champion over at Underground Arena, right? If you want to go experience the Underground scene for yourself, there's absolutely no problem — neither I nor my father would mind at all."

She paused, then added, "If anything, my father would definitely go watch in person himself... From a purely business and organizational standpoint, being on such friendly terms with a rival is a bit strange, isn't it?"

By the end, a playful look crossed Sayaka's face.

"Maybe it's a coincidence, or maybe some strange force at work, but anyone who's managed to carve out their own place in the underground fighting world — whether it's the Kengan Association or a place like Underground Arena — their masters tend to be people driven purely by a hunger for battle and conflict, not profit."

"That's how Grandpa Tokugawa is. It's how my father is too."

Hearing Sayaka's words, Yang nodded thoughtfully.

Indeed — in the crossover manga between Kengan and Baki, Katahara Metsudo and Mitsunari Tokugawa shared an almost identical aesthetic when it came to fighting: nothing to do with profit or anything like that, just a pure love of bloodshed.

"I get it." Yang said he understood, without pressing further for reasons.

Seeing that Yang wasn't confused by this and didn't press for more, a touch of curiosity crept into Sayaka's gaze.

She'd answered similar questions for plenty of people before, but few had ever grasped it right away — or rather, no one had. Not even so-called veteran fighters.

And yet Yang... seemed to have understood it almost instantly?

At least, judging by the shift in Yang's eyes and expression, Sayaka didn't think he was faking it.

Though surprised, Sayaka didn't voice the question, only let her gaze linger on Yang with a bit more curiosity than before.

Eating and chatting all the while, Yang turned to Kure Fusui. "Fusui, could I take a look at your Removal?"

"No problem~"

Kure Fusui made an OK sign with her hand, showing it was nothing.

Since she'd already known Yang might need to study her eyes in order to treat Juri Han's, Fusui had prepared herself for this well in advance.

The Kure clan technically forbade performing Removal in front of ordinary people, but there wasn't really an ordinary person in the room to begin with...

In fact, even now, Chun-Li beside them couldn't help marveling at how Yang always seemed to attract the strangest assortment of characters...

A family of assassins with a thousand-year lineage, the eldest son and daughter of the head of the Kengan Association — whose membership held sway over half of Japan's business world — the orphaned Taekwondo champion daughter of a former Korean prosecutor, the reigning champion of Underground Arena...

A group of people who, on paper, had nothing to do with one another, all crammed together now in this unassuming little shop...

While Chun-Li was still lost in thought, Yang guided the healing effect through Fusui's body, letting it circulate, sense, and resonate, while he studied the redundant structures within her eyes.

The process didn't take long — after all, an eye was only so big. After scanning back and forth a full three times and confirming the rough shape of the eye's redundant structures, Yang lowered his hand. "All right, that's it. Thanks for your trouble."

"...That's it already?" Fusui said, a little surprised. "I thought it'd be long and complicated."

"No two people's constitutions are exactly alike, so naturally their redundant structures aren't either."

Yang said, "For now, grasping a few key traits is enough. As for the rest, we can take our time with it... If you've got the time, would you mind coming by a few more times?"

Yang looked at Fusui.

"Of course, no problem~"

Before Fusui could reply, Kure Raian cut in, utterly unbothered. "Whenever this girl couldn't find you these past few days, she wouldn't stop yammering on about you, all worked up like a cat in heat..."

"Brother!!" Fusui's face fell into despair.

"I just mentioned him a couple times because I was thinking about him — how does that turn into 'lovesick' coming out of your mouth?!"

"What's the difference? The clan wants strong blood in the family anyway." Raian remained completely unbothered, just tilting his chin toward Yang.

"Say, you got any spare rooms here? If you do, just put her up here — the old man definitely won't object."

Hearing Raian's blunt, careless words, Chun-Li beside him looked rather exasperated.

Of everyone present, Chun-Li, as an Interpol officer, was probably the closest thing to a normal thinker in the room.

With that thought, Chun-Li said, exasperated, "Aren't you worried something dangerous might happen to Fusui here?"

"What danger could there possibly be?" Raian said, thoroughly dismissive.

"And even if something really did happen... eh, her Removal Rate's only 28%. Not much of a loss, honestly~"

Fusui's face twisted with displeasure, practically grinding her teeth.

"Living here... a spare room... oh, right, that could actually work?!"

The speaker meant nothing by it, but the listener took it to heart.

Hearing Raian's words, Karura beside them immediately perked up with interest. "A-Yang, what about me? Do I need to pay rent? I've saved up loads of allowance money!"

As she spoke, Karura excitedly pulled out a bank card.

"...That really won't be necessary."

Yang pushed the card back, then thought it over and added, "Though... having Fusui stay here a while would genuinely make a lot of things more convenient."

Just because he'd gotten a read on things now didn't mean new problems wouldn't crop up as the research and treatment continued. Given that, having Fusui living nearby would genuinely save a lot of trouble.

"Then it's settled... Karura's coming along too, right?" Raian said, a savage grin spreading across his face.

"I can't wait to see the old man's face when he hears this news, hahaha!!"

But just as Raian was still laughing, he suddenly sensed something — and along with Misasa, Chun-Li, and the others, he snapped his gaze toward the door.

A figure clad in a black robe, an Iron Mask over its face, steel claws sheathing its hands, stepped slowly inside.

"...Vega?" Yang arched a brow in surprise.