Chapter Four: The Youth and the Way of Extremes

For Bai Tangjing, transferring to Tokyo and boxing at "Red Sand" was nothing more than repaying a favor.

After all, without the support of the Toyama Group behind "Red Sand," it would have been nothing short of a miracle for a fostered school-age child to maintain years of martial arts training at such an intense level—so grueling it could make anyone suspect child abuse. The thought alone seemed fantastical.

But after winning the team fight against "Bishamon," his debt to the Toyama Group was settled.

As promised, he was free to come and go as he pleased.

~~~~~~

Stepping out of Mach Bowling Alley, the lively bustle of Kamurocho was a world apart from the underground fighting just a wall away.

Walking straight ahead, the cool evening breeze tempered the heat still pulsing through his veins. Bai Tangjing slapped a thick stack of bills—Fukuzawa Yukichi's portrait flashing—in his palm, then tucked it into his backpack. He pulled out a pair of black-rimmed, non-prescription glasses and slipped them on, ruffling his ear-length slicked-back hair.

In moments, his entire demeanor shifted.

Jeans, Martin boots, a light-colored jacket and backpack; tall, bespectacled, with messy hair, Bai Tangjing looked no different from any college student strolling the street.

"So it's already eleven?"

He checked his phone, ready to head home.

He lived far from Kamurocho, planning to walk two more blocks to a busy street and catch a cab.

As he walked, a melodious ringtone sounded. Bai Tangjing glanced at his phone, smiled at the display: [Takashi Yagami]. The caller icon was a man strikingly reminiscent of Takuya Kimura.

He answered.

"Yo! Mr. Monopoly! Am I interrupting?"

Before Bai Tangjing could greet him, the caller spoke each word with teasing, clenched teeth.

He took it in stride; though not bound by life-and-death friendship, they could be considered friends.

"Aren't you in Fukushima, investigating some case? Used to be a lawyer, so I entrusted you with it."

"Yes, yes! Damn you, life's winner! My humble agency thanks you for your patronage. Thanks to your fifty million dollar fortune, I barely had to lift a finger. You're officially disconnected from your adoptive family now—totally on your own."

"...Honestly, with the way you make money, why even bother with Tokyo University Law? Planning to switch from business to politics?"

Bai Tangjing smiled, listening to the envy and complaints from the other end.

That was one reason he'd chosen Yagami for the job: even faced with such a huge sum, the man, skilled in legal procedures, could easily skim something off if he wanted. But if the money didn't align with his principles, he wouldn't touch a single yen.

As for switching from business to politics? Or leaving fighting behind for a political career?

Impossible.

The young man pushed up his glasses, his smile fading.

Ever since receiving the clay sage's prophecy at age eight, the child condemned by fate to a suspended sentence had pursued every kind of power with a feverish intensity.

—Money, authority, and martial skill.

The clay sage's prophecy was vague and terrifying, offering no way to prepare specifically. But for one walking the edge, was lack of preparation a reason to let fate have its way?

If eight years of relentless training had given Bai Tangjing any gift, it was this: he no longer remembered how to "give up."

So, while battling through rural dojos, accumulating funds, and maintaining school grades for a future in politics, he became a nightmare his peers refused to mention.

The two chatted a little longer before hanging up.

Bai Tangjing sensed Yagami had more to ask, but since he kept silent, Bai Tangjing did not volunteer.

Elsewhere, in a Fukushima inn, Takashi Yagami—who looked uncannily like Takuya Kimura—stared at his phone in a daze.

Beside him sat a man with a square face, wearing a loud floral shirt and a flamboyant white suit—clearly a yakuza. This was his friend and partner in the Yagami Detective Agency, Masashi Kaiten.

Kaiten popped a snack into his mouth, watching Yagami’s trance.

"Hey, Takashi, didn’t you say you wanted to ask about his adoptive parents?"

"When we took the paperwork and money to terminate the guardianship, their expressions were like… finally sending off some evil god, relieved beyond words."

Yagami exhaled deeply, still staring at his phone.

"No, there's no need."

"Though I haven’t spent much time with him, that kid… no, that man, would never betray his conscience."

"Hmm… rare for you to speak so highly of someone. Let’s hope so. After all, we’ve seen plenty of people who look human but act like beasts."

Masashi Kaiten popped another snack, not doubting Yagami’s judgment, just habitually argumentative.

Yagami put away his phone and turned, speaking solemnly.

"Kaiten, you’ll see when you meet him.

That sixteen-year-old… he’s a real man.

I stake my detective’s reputation on it!"

~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Bai Tangjing was walking in Tokyo toward the busy traffic when he paused by a dark alley.

"You've been following me for a while. Come out."

From the surrounding darkness, the shuffle of footsteps drew nearer.

There was a mix of threatening tongue-clicks and the scrape of metal against pavement.

Like a pack of wolves closing in, several figures emerged from the shadows, their eyes fixed hungrily on the black-haired youth encircled at the center.

"So, Toyama Group is finally lifting 'Red Sand's' last veil and stepping into the spotlight?"

Despite being surrounded by hostile, weapon-wielding men, Bai Tangjing's tone was calm, as if greeting acquaintances.

In response, a tall figure separated from the group and stepped into the moonlight from the depths of the alley.

He was a man with a buzz cut and a vicious face.

"What's with the 'you guys'? Since when did we get so distant, Tangjing?"

When the tall man spoke, the whispers around them instantly vanished—proof of his authority.

"Don’t act like we’re close, Akira Toyama.

As agreed, once I helped 'Red Sand' establish itself in Tokyo, I owed nothing to the Toyama Group.

That was the deal I made with your father, Hideki Toyama. Two copies of the contract—if you’ve forgotten, I can show you now. Your father's bloody handprint is right there."

Unperturbed, Bai Tangjing pushed up his glasses and gestured with his backpack toward Akira Toyama.

"I don’t give a damn about those bullshit contracts!"

Akira Toyama rubbed his buzz cut, his half-smiling gaze like a famished beast.

"Underground fighting is surging right now! Who’d be stupid enough to let go of a fighter of your caliber?

...Besides, you picked up 'Bishamon’s' business card, didn’t you?"