Teaching Kendo in Tokyo 1980

So his surname really is Uesugi... Could this "Dragon of Echigo" title be hereditary after all? Kazuma mused.

But the Uesugi family tree was notoriously convoluted. Back when the Meiji Restoration mandated that everyone adopt a surname, practically anyone who could claim the slightest connection to Uesugi Kenshin had taken the name Uesugi…

As for the old man's title—ironically, it was the simplest one Kazuma had encountered so far. All the yakuza up to now had paraded around with titles long enough to fill an entire business card, as if afraid a short one would cost them face.

But this guy? Just six characters: 總長—Boss. Technically seven if you counted the space before it.

Judging from his tone, though, the old man didn't seem to be here to cause trouble. Most likely, this was another recruitment attempt.

And judging by how his earlier "your sword has no heart" speech had apparently earned him the old man's favor…

What luck! Kazuma thought, wiping invisible sweat from his palms. If his little monologue had gone the wrong way and provoked the old man's ire, things could've ended very badly.

He stole a glance at the man's swordsmanship level: Toyama-ryū, 91. Yeah… definitely not someone I can afford to cross.

As someone who practiced kendo, Kazuma knew that Toyama-ryū was originally the official swordsmanship of the former Imperial Japanese Army. "Toyama" referred to the Army's Toyama Academy.

Considering his age… Kazuma silently vowed then and there: no matter how tempting the offer, he would never become this old man's disciple. No amount of sincerity or sweet talk could sway him.

And one day… whether as a police officer cutting down the yakuza, or as someone carrying the convictions of his past life—I, Kiryu Kazuma, will defeat you.

A fierce resolve surged within him, the two lives he carried converging into one.

Even without meditating, Kazuma knew—he had just triggered a temporary buff.

Now, whether this buff can close the level gap—he's level 85!—and all those status buffs... guess we'll see.

Apparently, the old man misread Kazuma's sudden surge of fighting spirit and burst into hearty laughter. "Kiryu-kun, there's no need to be so tense. I'm but an old fisherman passing through."

Boldened by everything he'd faced lately—charging into battle, brushing shoulders with death—Kazuma actually dared to reply:

"A simple fisherman doesn't carry such heavy karma."

Gasps rippled through the yakuza present.

The "eternal champion" standing behind Sōichirō, who had yet to introduce himself, growled, "You little—!"

But Sōichirō cut him off with a calm, "Quiet."

At once, the champion fell silent and returned to his stance—though his glare had grown ten times sharper.

Uesugi Sōichirō now regarded Kazuma intently, all traces of the kindly old grandfather gone, replaced by the commanding presence of the Kanto Union Boss, Uesugi Sōichirō.

"Karma, is it…" he echoed softly, mulling over the unexpected word. "And from the most unexpected mouth, no less."

Kazuma wasn't religious, and the word had simply slipped out. It had flashed through his mind when he remembered the Jizō statue he'd passed in the pouring rain the night before, on his way to what he thought was certain death.

Looking back now, that red scarf on the stone figure had stood out unnaturally in the dark.

No matter, Kazuma thought. Whether as the head of the yakuza or a former Imperial officer, this man's hands must be stained with blood.

If his "golden finger" could quantify karma, surely Uesugi Sōichirō's would be enough to overflow this little dojo.

Standing tall, Kazuma locked eyes with the old man, gaze blazing—a blade of judgment.

Uesugi Sōichirō met his stare with equal intensity.

This was a clash of wills between the young lone dragon and the aged Dragon of Echigo. Their aura alone overwhelmed everyone present.

No, Kazuma thought fiercely. I am the true descendant of the dragon. You? You're no dragon.

You're nothing but a cheap imitation!

At that moment, a gust of wind swept into the dojo, sending the courtyard's cherry blossoms into a wild dance. Petals rained down, shimmering in the sunlight like scales of a celestial dragon.

The swirling blossoms seemed to form the image of a sakura dragon gliding through the courtyard.

Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Forensics Lab.

Senior forensic examiner Sasaki suddenly looked up from his work.

"What's that sound?"

His partner, Forensics Officer Satō, also paused to listen.

There was indeed a faint buzzing in the lab.

"Probably a mosquito. Or a fly," Satō grumbled. "Damn it, we just installed that fancy UV bug zapper and it's useless. I'll grab the electric swatter."

Meanwhile, unaware of the tiny drama unfolding in Forensics, Kazuma remained locked in his standoff with Uesugi Sōichirō, unwavering.

The tension was so thick that even Kazuma half-expected the old man to suddenly snatch the bamboo sword from Kimura Nobumori and attack.

But he had no intention of backing down. Whether as Kiryu Kazuma or Wang Jian—not one step!

I didn't choose this era or this world. But I choose how I live in it!

A golden carp is no ordinary creature—once it meets the storm, it becomes a dragon!

I've faced the storm already!

Suddenly, though the sky outside was clear, a thunderclap echoed overhead, lightning streaking across the blue sky.

Paperboy Junta had just finished his morning deliveries and was cheerfully skipping toward school, backpack bouncing.

The scary yakuza encounter from earlier that morning? Already forgotten.

But then he heard thunder and looked up in confusion.

A lightning bolt? In this weather?

For a moment, a dragon-shaped flash seemed to dance across the sky.

It was gone in an instant. Junta stared at the now-normal sky, shook his head in wonder, and prepared to continue on.

Then he noticed something odd—the red scarf on the Jizō statue by the roadside gleamed unnaturally bright in the morning sun.

Huh? Was there always a Jizō here?

The statue remained silent, as all stone statues do.

Back in the dojo, Uesugi Sōichirō suddenly burst into laughter. "Excellent! Wonderful! Daisaku! Did you see? This is exactly what I've been searching for!"

The "eternal champion," now revealed as Daisaku, looked horrified. "Boss! No, you can't! This will spark chaos! The Kansai and Hiroshima gangs are watching Tokyo like hawks—just waiting for an opening! If the Kanto Union falls into civil strife now, they'll pounce!"

"I don't care!" Uesugi Sōichirō declared, voice ringing through the room. His eyes blazed as he looked at Kazuma. "Magnificent! This is the Shōwa spirit I've been searching for! The postwar generation has gone soft—but you, boy, you alone are worthy to inherit my legacy! My techniques, my fortune, my position—I will teach you everything!"

The room erupted in stunned murmurs.

But Kazuma replied coldly, "I refuse."

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Uesugi Sōichirō's face still wore traces of elation—now mingled with disbelief.

"Do you understand what you're saying?" he asked.

"I do," Kazuma answered firmly. "I said—I refuse. Your techniques should vanish from this world. It's because of remnants like you that this country can't be reborn."

"It's because of relics like you that this nation can't move forward into the uncharted future!"

"I, Kiryu Kazuma, will never join you."

(End of Chapter)