Chapter 119: Hanzo Shiranui (Patreon)

Sensing the excitement and delight in Albert's eyes, Yang merely tilted his head calmly, then asked, "So?"

"Honestly, in your case, there's really no need to attend school at all, is there?" Professor Albert said. "Or maybe, for someone like you, school is just a means to an end — a quiet way into the fighting world, for instance, so you'd have the chance to face stronger opponents."

"...More or less." Hearing that, Yang nodded. "I do have something like that in mind. So what does that have to do with you?"

"I can help you," Albert said. "Powerful fighters, special underground fighting arenas, martial-arts scholars you couldn't reach — or haven't even heard of — at your current standing, passes into that fighting world... I can get you all of it."

"...And what's the price?" Yang asked.

"All I need is for you to let me check your physical readings from time to time," Albert said.

"You set the schedule. When to end the arrangement is entirely up to you too — I won't interfere. The only thing I ask is that you promise me you won't deceive me."

Despite his accomplishments and his head of white hair, there was more than mere longing on Albert's face — Yang could sense something close to pleading in it.

Clearly, Albert was eager to work with someone of Yang's extraordinary talent.

As for Yang... honestly, he was tempted.

Though Yang had spent all his time training in martial arts, he had never once looked down on this world's science and technology.

The reason was simple: both Street Fighter and The King of Fighters had achieved remarkably high technological feats.

In Street Fighter, Vega had used cloning technology to mass-produce who knew how many backup bodies for himself; even after dying countless times, his powerful spiritual power let him preserve his soul and revive it inside one of his spares.

The bodies capable of hosting his reborn soul were either cloned from his own DNA, or obtained by modifying and brainwashing talented individuals.

There wasn't much to say about the former — those spare bodies were essentially soulless husks. The latter, though, was like the spiritual-power youth Ed: once awakened and granted freedom, only a little training was needed to gain formidable strength.

Then there was Seth, the final boss of Street Fighter IV, who possessed a tanden engine capable of absorbing every fighter's qi and mastering their signature techniques.

In The King of Fighters, there were the mass-produced Kusanagi clones churned out by the NESTS organization, as well as K', who'd had Kusanagi's power forcibly grafted onto him.

In Kengan Ashura, Tokita Ohma and Gaoh Ryuki appeared as clones of Shen Wulong. And there was Hayami Masaki, clone of the fighter Meguro Masaki, who had already died in the Kengan ring.

In Baki, Mitsunari Tokugawa used cells from the man's remains to create a cloned body, then used a soul-summoning technique to bind a soul to it and bring Miyamoto Musashi back to life...

You could say that in this godforsaken world, if you could imagine it, some mad scientist somewhere had probably already done it.

Aside from this dazzling array of biotechnology, there were also all sorts of superpowers and combat gear to consider.

Take Maxima from The King of Fighters, whose combat strength came almost entirely from having eighty percent of his body put through heavy-duty cybernetic modification — or Crimson Viper from Street Fighter, who fought relying on high-tech equipment, and so on, and so on.

Though Yang himself wasn't particularly interested in any of this, one thing was undeniable — the hidden "back-end" technology of this world was genuinely on another level.

And Albert... really was a solid entry point into that hidden technology.

More importantly, Yang genuinely needed someone to measure his physical data.

Granted, in a world where a supernatural force like qi existed, raw physical numbers couldn't play as decisive a role in combat as they had in his previous life.

But there was no denying that a more thorough understanding of his own body would let him grow along more dimensions, and catch gaps before they became problems.

With that thought, Yang nodded. "In that case, I look forward to working with you."

"Likewise!"

Hearing Yang's answer, Albert lit up with delight, grinning wide enough to show a mouth of uneven old teeth, then asked, still smiling, "So — are you actually planning to attend classes?"

"I'll just keep my name on the roll." Yang thought it over, then added, "If someone worth meeting shows up at school, let me know."

"Understood." Albert nodded, then said, "In that case, let's start with a simple round of physical measurements!"

"Sure." Yang nodded and cooperated as Albert took his measurements.

Though he'd already decided to work with Professor Albert, they'd only just met, so Yang kept his cooperation simple — letting Albert measure his physical data without drawing on qi or healing effect. As for the blood draw, he didn't think much of it either way.

For a martial artist, bleeding from wounds in battle was about as ordinary as things got. Even if Yang had refused, someone with Albert's standing wouldn't have had much trouble getting a sample anyway.

"The detailed results will be ready in three days. Anything going on in the meantime? Just leave me a way to reach you, and go do whatever you want."

With Yang's physical data in hand, Professor Albert wore the look of a man who'd struck treasure, his eyes brimming with barely contained excitement. If Yang hadn't been standing right there, he looked ready to sprint straight back to his lab and start running experiments.

Hearing Albert's words, Yang considered for a moment, then asked, "How many students at this school are... like Baki? Who are they?"

At Yang's question, an expected but faintly awkward look crossed Albert's face.

But after glancing down at the data he'd just gathered on Yang, Albert let out a sigh.

"The Baki you mean is Baki Hanma, right? There really are quite a few students like him here — except even the school itself doesn't know about it. The relevant files are kept by a dedicated team..."

Yang said nothing to that. The mere fact that Albert was willing to say this much told him the matter wasn't simple at all.

Feeling Yang's gaze on him, Albert broke into a smile.

"And I, as it happens, am one of them."

"...So?" Yang raised an eyebrow.

"I can give you that list," Albert said flatly. "No payment needed — just a token of the friendship between us."

At that, looking at Albert's head of white hair, Yang fell silent for a moment before sighing.

"Hearing you say that almost makes me wish you'd ask for something in return..."

Favors were the hardest debts to repay, especially for someone like Yang, who couldn't simply brush off another person's goodwill or accept every kindness without a second thought.

"I'm not about to let a single opportunity slip by." Hearing that, Albert looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

"I've been researching this field for over seventy years. But without proper access, you're the first martial artist willing to cooperate with my research, even if it's just handing over physical data. That's exactly why I have to seize this chance with both hands."

With that, he paused, and as if realizing something, a grin spread across his face. He looked at Yang like a mischievous child.

"Of course, part of why I'm willing to tell you all this is that you don't strike me as the type to drive a hard bargain."

Hearing Albert's answer, Yang chuckled and nodded. "Then I'll try not to disappoint you."

"The list is fairly long, and I don't have a paper copy on hand — I'll send it to your email later," Albert said.

Yang nodded at that and rolled his shoulders a couple of times, adding, "If there's nothing else, I'll head out?"

"Go right ahead... Oh, right, here's my card and your access permit."

Albert handed over an envelope he'd clearly prepared in advance. "If anything comes up, you can reach me at the contact info inside. As for the permit, just show it and PMC's security staff won't give you any trouble."

"Mm." Yang nodded and took the envelope, thinking PMC sounded oddly familiar.

It felt a little surreal, but on his very first day of school, Yang had already secured the right to come and go from the campus as he pleased.

He didn't dwell on it much. Even without Albert, Yang would have found some excuse or pretext — or just skipped class outright — to go fight and train, rather than pour his time into meaningless university coursework. Not that the coursework was entirely useless; it was simply that Yang could master most of the basic material after skimming the textbook once or twice.

With nothing else pressing, Yang took out the records Vega had handed him the night before.

Shiranui-ryu and Bushinryu...

Let's start with Shiranui-ryu.

Yang thought to himself — compared to Bushinryu, which only ever had a single grandmaster per generation, Shiranui-ryu at least wasn't as restrictive in terms of numbers.

More importantly, compared to Bushinryu, Shiranui-ryu's lineage was older, and its system far more complete.

Its Flame Secret Scroll, passed down through the generations, and its fire ninjutsu could be grasped, mastered, and wielded by anyone with sufficient talent — even someone outside the direct Shiranui bloodline.

With that thought, Yang glanced at the address, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face. But after mulling it over, he nodded, hailed a taxi, and set off.

The reason for his surprise was simple enough — the Shiranui-ryu dojo sat up in the mountains.

Except this wasn't the deep, ancient forest most people pictured when they heard the word "mountain." It sat right at the edge of the greater Tokyo area, and wasn't far from Old City at all.

Because Old City had, for a long stretch of time, been overrun by thugs, yakuza, bosozoku, martial-arts criminals, and illegal immigrants, the areas surrounding it had likewise lagged behind Tokyo's own development for a considerable period.

Mount Kumotori, which bordered it, was especially untouched by civilization — brown bears and wild boars had roamed there year-round for as long as anyone could remember.

Back in his previous life, this sort of thing would already have people cracking jokes online about "those Japan-worshippers, a dime a dozen," or dragging up some celebrity known for gushing over Japan.

But this world was different. Untouched wilderness like this had actually been deliberately set aside by the relevant organizations as dedicated zones for the fighting world.

Take Tokita Ohma from Kengan Ashura, for instance — before he met Yamashita Kazuo and joined Nogi Group to compete in Kengan matches, he'd lived alone out on the city's outskirts.

In fact, when Yamashita Kazuo personally paid him a visit, Tokita Ohma had just brought a wild boar he'd hunted back to his dilapidated Western-style house to roast and eat.

There was also the figure known as Yasha the Ape from Baki. To keep martial artists who devoted themselves entirely to training from becoming hopelessly out of touch with society — and turning to strange, crooked schemes just to eat once they finally rejoined it — setting aside nature reserves where they could hunt for themselves had become the obvious solution.

Put another way: in Yang's previous life, the overpopulation of brown bears and black bears had triggered Japan's so-called "bear crisis," throwing things into disorder and undermining public safety. In this world, though, brown bears and wild boars alike were actually part of what kept the peace...

Because a good number of martial artists lacked the ability to integrate into society, yet also refused to lower themselves to work for someone else, letting them hunt for their own food had become a way to head off unnecessary chaos.

Put another way — in a place like the fighting world, man-made disasters outweighed anything bears could cause.

Lost in thought, Yang rode the taxi to the area near Mount Kumotori. After marveling at just how outrageously expensive Japanese taxis were, he followed the lead Vega had given him and stepped into the mountains.

Somewhere on Mount Kumotori, in the tea room of the Shiranui dojo, Genryusai Maki knelt on the tatami mats, her back held ramrod straight, a cup of warm tea set before her, a faint trace of sorrow on her face.

"So — your father passed away last year?"

Shiranui Hanzo sat on the cushion across from her, his aged voice rising as if from deep within a well, heavy with the weight of old age.

He was ancient — old enough that the wrinkles on his face looked carved by a blade — yet his eyes remained sharp, startlingly clear for a man so near the end of his years.

"Yes." Genryusai Maki lowered her eyes. "Before he passed, my father handed me the position of Bushinryu's grandmaster, and asked me to come tell you of his passing."

At that, Shiranui Hanzo nodded slowly and asked for no further details.

For someone who'd lived as long as he had, watching old friends pass on one after another had become an ordinary thing. There was no point in asking more.

With that thought, Shiranui Hanzo lifted his teacup, gazing at the clear liquid inside, a wistful look crossing his face.

"That old goat, Genryusai."

He let out a sudden laugh. "When he was young, he told me Bushinryu would flourish in his hands. I told him to fix the dojo's leaking roof first. And damned if he didn't actually fix it — took on a fine disciple too. I really thought he'd outlive me."

"And now, here I am — I still haven't found a successor good enough to make him jealous... and he's already gone ahead of me."