Chapter Thirty-Three: Surreal

In the end, Saeko did not take action.
Her reason was, “The current head of the Dojima style—my father, Yoji Dojima—is abroad. Therefore, how to deal with you should naturally be decided by the next appointed successor.”
And so, the four of them, under Saeko’s guidance, proceeded to the inner hall.
As they walked, Hisayasu Takemoto continued to tease.
“Oh my, oh my! I promised an old friend to help treat his daughter’s murderous impulses, only to find that now his daughter has already chosen the next head herself. I wonder if he’ll chop me to pieces when he returns?”
“My father and you are close friends. I’m sure he’ll make your passing utterly painless.”
Saeko, leading the way, first gave a light laugh.
Then, more seriously: “Even if my father returns and meets Kyo, he will not be disappointed.”
“There’s no doubt about it. As long as you’re a warrior, there’s no way you could think that boy is lacking!”
The old man and the young woman conversed happily.
But a step behind them, Hikaru Narushima was filled with anxiety.
“That bespectacled guy’s name is ‘Kyo’? …No, that’s not what’s important.”
The white-haired youth’s wild gaze shifted back and forth between the two ahead.
“What matters is, just how strong is the person who could meet the approval of these two monstrous figures?!”
His blood boiled, his heart thundered!
The doors to the inner hall were just before them.
Hikaru Narushima even felt as though he could sense an exultation rising from his very soul.
—He was about to truly step into the world of the strong!
The wooden sliding doors parted with a soft rustle.
But what greeted their eyes was Kyo Hakudo, standing in the kitchen, hair loose and glasses perched on his nose.
His rather thin hand hovered low over the stove, the other already gripping the knob, his expression focused.
“Kyo, are you…?!”
Before Saeko could voice her concern, Kyo Hakudo had already turned on the burner!
A jet of natural gas was ignited by a spark, exploding into flame!
And the next moment left all four of them wide-eyed and rooted to the threshold!
The red and blue flames should have instantly licked up his lowered palm.
The temperature, unbearable for any carbon-based lifeform, should have blackened his delicate skin in seconds.
But now, his hand seemed protected by something unseen!
The unruly flames were pressed into a bowl-shaped hollow by his palm.
As his hand lifted, the flickering red and blue plasma stretched like a dragon drinking from a river, connecting his palm to the source of the fire.
When the “dragon’s neck” stretched far enough from the stove below and finally broke,
the lower flames snapped back to normal, as if freed from some invisible force.
But the upper flames gathered and danced into his palm, forming a fantastical sphere of shifting red and blue.
The sphere’s shape in his hand wavered, shrinking… until at last, it vanished.
In this world bound by cold, physical laws, “the surreal” was now laid bare before their eyes.
“Is this… magic?”

The three remained silent, only Taizuke Zanaga forced out words he himself could hardly believe.
And his words jolted Kyo Hakudo, who had been staring at his own palm in mild disappointment.
He turned to the group, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Oh? What a rare gathering.”
~~~~~~
Once everyone was seated on the sofas, Hisayasu Takemoto, teacup in hand, cast a keen gaze at his youngest disciple.
“You lost at least five kilos of fat and muscle just for that… thing?”
After a long silence, the “Martial God” finally managed to find a word that fit the scene.
He had no idea that this was already the result of several hearty meals.
“Ah, that’s right,” Kyo Hakudo replied with a smile, “It’s not hard to regain fat and muscle, but if I missed that chance just now, I might never get it again.”
He knew all too well what kind of man his master was.
Outwardly, an esteemed elder—but in truth, just a battle-crazed man in disguise!
Sure enough—
“Enough talk! Can you fight? Right now!”
Before he finished speaking, the old man’s muscles swelled so much they nearly burst his wide kimono.
Compared to his current expression, even Hikaru Narushima’s earlier wolfish ferocity seemed gentle!
The two delinquent youths who had been sitting with Takemoto nearly bolted under the oppressive aura.
“No.”
Kyo Hakudo gently refused, sipping his tea.
Yet these two light syllables, backed by his will, forcibly suppressed his master’s surging fighting spirit with mere words!
Restoring him to calm.
“It’s just a half-finished product—still in development.”
Takemoto tried to stir his blood, but found he simply could not enter a fighting state.
He stared in disbelief.
Then, the savage smile on his lips only grew wider!
“I don’t get it, but… I look forward to it, Kyo! I can’t wait to fight you once that’s perfected!
But even what you just showed is enough for me to give you this.”
The kimono-clad old man produced a thick wooden plaque from his sleeve and handed it to Kyo Hakudo.
Kyo accepted it with both hands, and saw the large character for “Fist” inscribed on it.
“This is the membership token for the Kengan Association.
The doormen among the members often use these for gambling matches with outsiders, making a tidy profit.
You were supposed to win one yourself,
but as your master, I wanted to get back into fighting shape, so I did it for you.”
“Thank you. Did you meet an interesting opponent, Master?”
“No, just a cheat using high-frequency sound equipment in the ring—scum, really.” The old man sipped his tea, nodding his approval at Saeko’s brewing, and she returned the gesture with grace.
“As punishment for cheating, I crushed his knee. Consider it a warm-up.”
“...That’s terrifying, Master.”

“I’m much more restrained these days—years ago, I’d have torn out his windpipe. That spot’s poorly defended. Hard not to take advantage, you know.”
He took another sip.
“Oh, by the way. Do you have any quarrel with this kid?”
He gestured with his teacup toward Hikaru Narushima.
Kyo Hakudo adjusted his glasses with scholarly elegance and looked at him, finding him vaguely familiar.
“Have we met?”
“Kyo, it’s when you went to see me at Yagami’s place.”
It was Taizuke who answered, already acquainted with both.
And the white-haired youth, as if spring-loaded, shot up from the sofa.
He dropped to his knees before Kyo Hakudo with a bang.
“I’m Hikaru Narushima! I beg you—please take me as your disciple!”
His kneeling shook the floorboards, his knees striking with such force that blood spattered.
The old man, teacup in hand, remarked offhandedly,
“He might be promising material, but before asking to be apprenticed, he kicked the Dojima style’s signboard. He’s awaiting your judgment as the next head.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than Hikaru Narushima slammed his forehead into the floor, so hard blood flew.
“I’ll accept any punishment! But… just let me keep fighting! Let me keep hoping I can beat you! Any punishment is fine!”
Startled, Kyo Hakudo looked from his apparently tea-focused master to the bleeding youth, beginning to understand.
He could only reply with a helpless sigh,
“What kind of apprentice declares he wants to defeat his master at the outset…? Besides, I only just turned sixteen.”
“What?!”
The unexpected age made Narushima stare, bleeding head raised in disbelief.
Kyo took the chance to turn the conversation toward the burly old man, who was already signaling impatiently with his wide sleeve.
“I don’t plan on taking students. But I highly recommend my master—the ‘Martial God’ Hisayasu Takemoto. He trained me from the start!”
“Is…is that so?” Narushima’s eyes flickered with uncertainty.
The old man was undoubtedly formidable, but was it really wise to give up on Kyo Hakudo, who’d already shown hints of the supernatural?
“Then it’s settled!”
The kimono-clad old man, already impatient, grabbed the bewildered youth like a chick, spun him around, and faced him toward himself.
With his large hands he forced the boy to kneel again.
“W-wait!”
“No need to wait! From now on, you’re the second youngest by age and the most junior in rank among Takemoto’s disciples!
Enough talk! Today, you’re coming to the dojo! Become a young man worthy of a good fight as soon as possible!”
Pinning the struggling Narushima to the floor, the old man rushed to drag him off for training at the dojo.
But just then, Kyo Hakudo’s voice chilled, halting his master.
“The Takemoto style business is concluded. Now it’s time for the Dojima style, Master.”