Teaching Kendo in Tokyo 1980

Kiryu Kazuma, still riding the adrenaline rush from the battle, glanced at Detective Shiratori and blurted out, "If you wanted to interrogate him, why shoot him in the head?"

Detective Shiratori countered, "And if we didn't shoot him in the head, would you have stopped? He was going to die either way. And shooting a pain in the ass for us. If the guy survives and sues us, it's even worse."

"Is that so?"

"That's how it is," Shiratori said flatly, pulling out a cigarette. He turned to Detective Takayama. "How are the others doing?"

"No fatal stab wounds. We got to them in time, so no one's gone into shock from blood loss. Should be safe to rule out accidental death," Takayama replied with a shrug. "And even if one of those punks did bleed out, I doubt any prosecutor would be eager to charge a good citizen acting in self-defense."

"If one did, every big law firm in Tokyo would fight over the chance to defend that good citizen," Takayama added with a smirk. "Free publicity."

He paused, then eyed the Bizen Osafune Ichimonji Masamune still in Kazuma's hand. "That said, put the sword down for now—it's evidence. Don't worry, Shiratori and I will personally see it through forensics. After the process is done, it'll be cleaned and returned to you."

Only now did Kazuma realize he was still gripping the blade tightly, murderously poised.

The surrounding officers were keeping a safe distance, clearly on edge.

Kazuma glanced at the bloodied blade and instinctively wanted to wipe it, but Takayama stopped him. "Don't! It's better to leave it untouched for the record. If you wipe it, that's more paperwork. Once it's logged, a professional will clean it properly."

Kazuma thought about it. Standing here among a group of police officers holding a bloodied sword probably wasn't the best idea. If a reporter caught this on camera, all sorts of rumors would spread.

He deftly flipped the blade and handed it hilt-first to Takayama.

Takayama accepted it and passed it to an officer already holding an evidence bag for edged weapons.

Kazuma got the distinct feeling that the moment he released the sword, all the surrounding officers breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Really? Am I that scary?" Kazuma asked, half-joking.

Shiratori chuckled. "Even if you looked like the Buddha himself, no one's going to think a guy who just took down an entire yakuza group solo is harmless."

Fair point.

Shiratori shifted topics. "By the way, before I came up, I made a little bet. Looks like I won. Do me a favor—head downstairs and tell the other side yourself. Also, you still need to give a statement at Kitakatsushi Station, so don't run off. Just wait downstairs for a bit."

Kazuma blinked. "A bet? With who?"

"You'll see. Go through that small metal door there—it leads to the fire escape," Shiratori said, pointing to the door the officers had entered through earlier.

A short time earlier...

At the Nishiyama-gumi office.

Nishiyama Heita was playing shogi with his Wakagashira, Bandō. Usually, the Nishiyama-gumi officers preferred poker to pass the time, but the group wasn't fully gathered today—and with Bandō's hand bandaged, poker wasn't an option.

Just then, a young Wakashu burst in, shouting, "Kiryu Kazuma just left the dojo alone!"

Nishiyama Heita nodded. "I see."

He set the knight piece back on the board, clapped his hands, and stood. "Round everyone up. We're moving."

Bandō also stood, bellowing, "You heard him! Move out! Anyone who lags behind can consider themselves out of the family!"

"Oh!" The Wakashu answered in unison, voices full of vigor—and, of course, punctuated with their signature tongue-clicks.

Nishiyama Heita strode straight out into the pouring rain. His suit was drenched in an instant.

One of the younger men grabbed an umbrella and hurried after him. "Boss, your umbrella!"

"Idiot!" Bandō barked. "You think this is a picnic? Face the rain with spirit! Don't look like a wet hen! Even if you're soaked, hold your head high!"

Nishiyama Heita ignored him—disciplining the Wakashu was the Wakagashira's job. The boss didn't interfere unless he didn't trust his second-in-command.

Without slowing, Nishiyama Heita led the group toward the Tsuda-gumi office.

After a few paces, he remembered something and turned to Bandō. "Take a team to the Kiryu house. Make sure no one touches his sister."

"Ah, buying goodwill. Got it." Bandō nodded. "You guys, with me!" He picked a few trusted Wakashu and ran off.

Nishiyama Heita pressed on, leading the rest of the group through the storm.

Pedestrians scattered at the sight of them.

Before long, they arrived across from the Tsuda-gumi office—just in time to hear Kazuma's voice booming from inside:

"Rishin-ryū Shihan-dai, Kiryu Kazuma—present!"

A grin spread across Nishiyama Heita's face. He raised a hand, signaling everyone to halt. They remained on the opposite side of the narrow street, watching.

The sounds of fighting were audible even from here.

One of the officers leaned in. "If we charged in now, we could wipe out the whole Tsuda-gumi."

"You fool," Nishiyama Heita replied. "This is Tsuda-gumi territory as defined by the Kanto Union board. Don't make trouble for Headquarters."

He paused. "But... the Tsuda-gumi probably won't last much longer. When they're gone, this turf will likely be handed to us."

Just then, another voice rang out from inside:

"Wakagashira of the Kanto Union's Tsuda-gumi, Ōta Jūzō—present!"

One of the younger men whispered, "Ōta Jūzō's strong. They say he once fought off dozens of enemies alone."

"Quiet. Just watch," Nishiyama Heita ordered.

At that moment, a cheap Honda sedan screeched to a stop nearby, splashing muddy water all over Nishiyama.

"KISAMA!" one of the Wakashu shouted.

But Nishiyama calmly raised a hand, stopping him.

Detectives Shiratori and Takayama stepped out of the car. Shiratori glanced at Nishiyama. "Sorry for the splash. Though, you were already soaked."

"Detective Shiratori, here to witness the birth of a new legend?" Nishiyama asked.

"Didn't you say he wanted to walk the straight path?"

Nishiyama laughed. "Hahaha! That's what everyone says at first. But ask anyone here—who started out wanting this life? As long as this rotten world stays the same, we'll never lack recruits."

Shiratori didn't reply. He simply opened his umbrella.

One police car after another from Kitakatsushi Station began arriving. The uniformed officers disembarked, visibly tense at the sight of the yakuza group.

"Relax!" Shiratori flipped out his badge. "These are just good citizens passing by."

No one actually believed that—but with a Keishichō detective of Shiratori's rank present, the local officers weren't going to object.

At that moment, a sharp sound echoed from the Tsuda-gumi office.

"Gunshot?" Takayama asked.

"No. A gunshot would be crisper," Shiratori replied casually. Then he turned to Nishiyama. "Want to bet? On which path your little dragon will take? Ten thousand yen."

"You'll lose for sure," Nishiyama said with a smirk.

Just then, a uniformed officer jogged over. "A large group of delinquents is gathering on the fire escape behind the building."

"Perfect timing," Shiratori said, waving. "Let's move! If we're late, forget the bet—we'll just be collecting Kiryu's corpse."

"But maybe we'll seize some illegal firearms," Takayama added. "At least we could avenge the kid."

Shiratori didn't reply. He followed the advancing officers toward the Tsuda-gumi office.

(End of Chapter)