Teaching Kendo in Tokyo 1980

After saying that, Kazuma thought for a moment—he really didn't have much else to add. "Alright, that's enough. Straighten up already. One bow's plenty."

Only then did Nishiyama Heita signal for his officers and wakashu to rise.

Without that signal, the yakuza would've stayed in their ninety-degree bows forever. Anyone who faltered first would be branded as lacking guts—and stuck at the bottom of the hierarchy for life.

Nishiyama didn't spare a glance at his subordinates. His sharp gaze stayed fixed on Kazuma. "Why? If you joined any group now, you'd be at least a wakagashira assistant. Give it some years, stack some achievements, and who knows? You might even become the leader of a direct Kanto Union group. Maybe even the next chairman of the entire Union in ten or twenty years..."

Kazuma picked up the thread with a faint smile. "And then Tokyo Bay would have only one Kiryu left, is that it?"

Phew... He almost blurted out Hao Nan by mistake.

Kazuma gave himself a silent pat for catching that.

Nishiyama chuckled and pressed on. "Wouldn't that be nice? No one would dare covet your dojo anymore—"

"Nishiyama-kun," Kazuma cut him off.

He had zero interest in that kind of future. In fact, Detective Shiratori's words from earlier echoed even more strongly in his mind: If you've chosen the right path, then stick to it with conviction.

With that thought, Kazuma continued firmly. "Nishiyama-kun, let me ask you something."

Seeing how serious Kazuma was, Nishiyama Heita also grew solemn. "Go ahead."

Kazuma leaned in slightly and asked, clear and unwavering: "Who holds more power—the Kanto Union chairman or the Superintendent-General of the police?"

For a moment, everything around them fell silent. Even the sound of the rain seemed to fade—though the downpour itself hadn't lessened at all.

Nishiyama's piercing stare locked onto Kazuma, as if trying to see straight through him.

But there was nothing to uncover. Kazuma's intentions were written plainly on his face.

He truly aspired to become Superintendent-General.

Tonight's events had given Kazuma an invaluable wealth of insight. And the calm, resolute look on his face now was just the tip of that iceberg.

In that fleeting moment, Nishiyama Heita understood everything.

He let out a self-deprecating laugh.

Kazuma watched him calmly, expression unchanged.

Finally, Nishiyama finished laughing. With a wry tone, he said, "I thought... you were the younger version of me. But I was wrong. A demon and a dragon are fundamentally different. So, Superintendent-General, huh? I'll remember that. If I'm still around when you reach that seat, would you humor an old man with a drink?"

"Are you serious? A Superintendent-General drinking with yakuza?" Kazuma shot back.

Immediately, one of the yakuza behind Nishiyama bristled. "KISAMA—"

"Quiet!" Nishiyama barked, spinning around to glare at him. That look alone shut the man down completely.

"Nishiyama-kun," Kazuma addressed him again, "sometimes, the line between yakuza and police isn't so clear. You'll see for yourself once you graduate from Todai and join the force."

Kazuma opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a voice called from behind him: "Kiryu-san, we're ready to take you to the station for your statement. Please come when you're ready."

Kazuma turned and answered, "Alright, I'm coming."

He gave Nishiyama a nod, then headed toward the waiting patrol car.

As the car carrying Kazuma drove off, the same subordinate who had been scolded earlier muttered, "Talk about full of himself..."

"You try taking down the entire Tsuda-gumi single-handed and see if you don't walk tall," Nishiyama replied casually this time, as if chatting with a friend. "That's the nature of our world—strength is everything. If you had the guts to take down Kanto Union HQ alone, you'd be the next chairman yourself."

The subordinate wisely held his tongue.

Nishiyama faced the rest of the wakashu. "You all heard that, right? If you think you can beat me, come on up. I'll be waiting on the second floor. Our office is one floor shorter than the Tsuda-gumi's—should be easier to storm. Besides, we don't keep guns."

The younger men exchanged uneasy glances. No one dared speak.

Meanwhile, Patrol Chief Sayama had watched everything unfold from the second floor of the Tsuda-gumi office.

He couldn't help but silently grumble about his old friend, Daimon Gorō: Gorō, the way you described your student, I thought he was just a dragon hatchling... turns out he's a full-fledged evil dragon.

Sayama let out a long sigh.

In truth, he felt relieved. Thankfully, this Kiryu Kazuma wasn't aiming to join the yakuza. Otherwise, if the kid ever discovered Sayama's dealings with the Tsuda-gumi, who knows what terrifying payback might follow?

Thinking that, Sayama glanced up at the ceiling.

The tape he'd handed Ōta Jūzō was probably still upstairs. He wondered if the yakuza had had the good sense to erase it after listening.

If not... well, that would be disastrous.

If it were just a Kitakatsushi Station investigation, Sayama might've had a chance to sneak up and recover the tape. But with the current floor assignments, the lucrative top floor had surely been claimed by the bigwigs from Sakuradamon.

Sakuradamon—the nickname for Tokyo Metropolitan Police Headquarters.

With senior brass from Keishichō on site, and those two detectives still present, Sayama didn't dare make a move.

All he could do was nervously chain-smoke downstairs.

—How did it come to this? All I did was sell a bit of info on some no-name high schooler. How did it suddenly turn into something that could cost me my badge?

Sayama brooded over it for a long while and finally concluded: he was just damn unlucky. How could he have known that kid was an evil dragon?

Then he started cursing his old friend again. Damn you, Daimon Gorō! You must've lied to save face, saying you barely lost when it was probably a total wipeout! Look what you've dragged me into!

Just then, Detective Takayama came down from the third floor carrying a tape recorder.

At the sight of it, Sayama's heart sank with a thud.

Takayama, who was quite a bit younger—promotions moved at different paces even among the rank-and-file—pulled out a cassette and glanced at its label, which featured a smiling young idol. "Matsushita Seiko's Blue Lagoon? Patrol Chief Sayama, didn't know you had such youthful taste."

Sayama feigned ignorance. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. There are two voices on this tape—one of them is clearly yours. If you want to deny it, we can always call in a forensic expert. But... you know the drill. There's a big difference between a confirmed match and a voluntary confession."

Sayama's shoulders slumped.

"Yeah... it's me. But I was using that to trade for intel on yakuza activities! Plenty of folks in the Organized Crime Division do this kind of thing!"

"Sure. Maybe you can tell Internal Affairs all about who else is doing it," Takayama said with a thin smile. He waved to his colleagues. "Arrest him."

Sayama sighed.

—Damn you, Daimon Gorō... you've ruined me!

(End of Chapter)