Teaching Kendo in Tokyo 1980

While Kazuma was busy calming his sister, the news finally reached the headquarters of the Shiramine-kai.

Considering there were no cell phones or internet, and everyone connected to the Tsuda-gumi had already been taken into police custody, the speed of this information transfer was impressively fast.

Aside from the Shiramine-kai and Nishiyama-gumi's backers in the Kazama-gumi, most other second-tier groups in the Kanto Union wouldn't hear about what happened to the Tsuda-gumi until the early hours of the next morning.

Of course, the direct-line groups within the Kanto Union wouldn't be completely in the dark. With their deep roots and extensive networks, their officers would at least know something had gone down—even if they didn't know the details yet.

Inside an opulently decorated tea room, Shiramine Sōgo was so shaken he failed to hold his tea bowl properly. It clattered onto the table with a loud thud, splashing tea across the tabletop. "What did you just say? Who did what?"

"Kiryu Kazuma went alone into the Tsuda-gumi office," repeated his son—also the heir of the Shiramine-kai—Shiramine Akira. "He defeated all of their officers. Tsuda Masaaki is dead.

"And the pistols we had stashed there were seized by the MPD's Organized Crime Division."

Shiramine Sōgo frowned, silent for a moment as he picked up the tea bowl and set it upright again.

Then something unexpected happened: the bowl suddenly cracked down the middle, splitting cleanly in two.

He stared at it. This was an expensive meibutsu—a prized item he'd used when visiting the famous tea master Sen Rikyū IV, who had praised it highly.

And yet from one minor fall—onto tatami no less—it had split. Not a good omen.

Slamming his fist on the table, Shiramine Sōgo cursed. "Damn it! That useless fool Tsuda! Losing the guns—we're going to be the laughingstock of the entire Kanto Union! I completely misjudged him!"

Well past his prime, Shiramine Sōgo was now just an aging man. The sudden outburst sent him into a violent coughing fit.

Akira, kneeling beside him, hurried to pat his back. "Father—Boss—what if we attacked the dojo now—"

"I'll give you twenty seconds to think before you speak," Shiramine Sōgo cut him off with a glare.

Akira instantly shut up. He knew that tone meant "Shut up, you idiot."

Turning to Sakata Jinsaku, Shiramine Sōgo asked, "That dojo—are we sure they have no backing?"

"Yes. The Kendo Federation's records only list the owner from two generations ago. According to their rules, that means the previous head didn't obtain a menkyo kaiden. The dojo isn't recognized by the federation—it's a rootless outlier."

"So you're telling me... a kid trained for a few years by a father who didn't even hold menkyo kaiden just took down one of our groups?" Shiramine Sōgo pressed.

Sakata nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Shiramine Sōgo clicked his tongue. "How is that even possible? That's absurd. Frankly, it'd be more believable if Rambo himself had strolled by with a machine gun and wiped out the Tsuda-gumi."

Akira muttered from the side, "Rambo."

Ignoring his son, Shiramine Sōgo rested his chin on one hand, deep in thought.

After a long pause, he spoke. "What I need to know now is whether anyone else has tried to recruit this kendo kid. Find out what the Kazama-gumi's movements are tonight. The kid's still at the police station?"

"No, he's already home."

"Home?" Shiramine Sōgo's voice shot up. "He just killed someone and the police let him go home? Released on bail? Who posted the bond? Kazama Tarō?"

"No. Apparently the one who fired the fatal shot was Detective Shiratori from the Organized Crime Division, ruled as self-defense."

Shiramine Sōgo's frown deepened. "Shiratori, huh... I see."

He didn't elaborate further, idly toying with the shards of the broken tea bowl as he thought.

Akira and Sakata exchanged a glance.

Both wisely kept silent. Years at Shiramine Sōgo's side had taught them well—this was not the time to speak. Even a correct comment could backfire; a wrong one could be disastrous.

Though technically still a second-tier group, everyone expected the Shiramine-kai to be promoted to direct-line status soon. At Kanto Union leadership meetings, Shiramine Sōgo was already seated near the front.

When someone of that stature got angry, it was terrifying. Even veteran subordinates like Sakata dared not provoke him.

At last, Shiramine Sōgo reached a decision. "Send people to watch the dojo. If you see any Kazama men, block them. Don't let them in first. But... Kazama Tarō probably won't make a move tonight. The real contest starts tomorrow."

Akira frowned. "You mean... you want to recruit Kiryu Kazuma?"

"Of course. Whether or not the story of him taking down a whole group solo is true, by tomorrow night he'll be the talk of the entire yakuza underworld. If we bring him in and he's actually skilled, great. If not, it still denies him to Kazama Tarō!"

"I understand," Sakata said, rising to his feet. "I'll handle it."

"And no weapons—got it?" Shiramine Sōgo warned. "The police are in high spirits tonight. They might round up anyone looking armed and dangerous."

"Understood. I'll take care of it." With a respectful bow, Sakata retreated.

Turning to his son, Shiramine Sōgo said, "Go fetch Kimura-san."

Akira nodded and left the room.

Left alone, Shiramine Sōgo finally allowed himself to look pained as he gathered the shards of the tea bowl into a small dish.

By custom, a broken meibutsu like this—like a famous sword—was believed to house a spirit. It would need to be properly "sent off" later.

While collecting the pieces, he accidentally nicked his finger on one shard, a thin line of blood welling up.

Studying the cut, Shiramine Sōgo muttered, "It's nothing. Just a scratch. No big deal. Nothing serious."

At that moment, Kimura entered the tea room and knelt. "You called for me?"

"Kimura-san, have you heard of Kiryu Kazuma?"

"Just now, for the first time," Kimura Nobumori replied.

"Tomorrow, I may need you to come with us. I want you to test his swordsmanship."

"To what extent?" Kimura asked.

"Just enough to gauge his true ability. No need to go further," Shiramine Sōgo replied.

"I understand. I'll be ready tonight." With a polite bow, Kimura backed out of the room in a seated posture before rising and leaving.

Shiramine Sōgo quite liked that old-school, samurai-like etiquette. It lightened his mood.

When his son Akira returned a moment later, Shiramine Sōgo ignored him and calmly resumed gathering the tea bowl shards, muttering as he worked, "It was Shiratori who fired... hmm. Shiratori."

(End of Chapter)