Chapter 57: A Conversation Between Elders and the Divine Healer

“Oh my, oh my! As expected of my prized disciple—he can even defeat such a formidable giant!”
“That’s right! Kyo is super strong, isn’t he, Grandpa?”
Amid the thunderous cheers, a burly old man in a kimono and a vibrant, youthful girl squeezed a shriveled old man between them.
Ignoring the veins that looked ready to burst on the old man’s forehead, the two praised the victorious young man in unison.
Wu Huili’ang struggled mightily to restrain himself, barely holding back from unleashing his “Liberation.”
His voice, forced and twisted by irritation, spoke:
“Garuda, Grandpa’s going to catch up with an old friend. Take care of yourself, all right?”
“No problem, Grandpa!”
The girl watched the tournament grounds with delight, while Takeben Hisayasu was dragged aside by the frail Wu Huili’ang to a quiet corner.
“Takeben, you old fox, shouldn’t you be focusing on your own preparations rather than trying to sell me on your disciple?”
“Not at all! Though your beachside antics were entertaining, us old folks shouldn’t meddle in the affairs of the young—unless we want to get ourselves killed!”
Wu Huili’ang sneered.
“By that girl from the Tōshima family? Kill you? Cure her inner demons and train for another year—maybe then she’d stand a chance.”
“She’s not quite there yet,” Takeben Hisayasu said with a sigh, “but Yōshi’s illegitimate son, born in Brazil, cares deeply for this sister he’s never met.”
The clan leader’s face stiffened, as if he’d just swallowed something bitter. “Sam ‘Raging Torrent’ Rodrigues.”
“Exactly. Since he couldn’t inherit the Tōshima name or their martial tradition, he founded his own—‘Rodrigues Shin’in-ryū.’ With his blood-red Muramasa, he single-handedly carved his way through the Brazilian drug cartels—like a hero straight out of a samurai film! Young people these days…” Takeben stroked his chin, a smile at the corner of his lips. “More outrageous with every generation.”
“If I recall, he also wiped out all of the Wu clan’s business in Brazil?”
After his initial discomfort, Wu Huili’ang quickly regained his composure.
Samuel’s swordsmanship was indeed unmatched among the current Wu clan, but if it came to open hostility, would a family of assassins really fear a lone swordsman?
“A mere business in Brazil—hardly worth mentioning. Now, what did you want to say?”
At this, the burly elder shed his playful expression and met his old friend’s gaze with unusual seriousness.
“You and that old devil from Katagiri Metadō—you’re plotting something, aren’t you?”
“Oh? You’ve been out of the game so long, I’m surprised you even noticed.”
“...Just tell me, will it affect the tournament?”

Wu Huili’ang looked at Takeben Hisayasu in surprise, then, recalling the man’s temperament, shook his head in resignation.
“To pour oneself wholly into the pursuit of battle—that’s just like you, Takeben.
Don’t worry. If all goes well, it won’t interfere with the tournament.”
“Then I can rest easy,” the big old man relaxed again, tucking his hands into the wide sleeves of his kimono. “By the way, do you have a way to contact Hayami Masamasa from Tokyo Power?”
“Why?” The clan leader’s eyes flashed almost imperceptibly at the mention of the name. “Do you need something from him?”
“It’s not for me—it’s for that kid.” Takeben nodded toward the arena. “Seems he’s crossed Tokyo Power somehow. I was hoping to smooth things over if I can.”
“I see.” Wu Huili’ang’s gaze returned to normal. “That’s out of my hands. In the Kengan Association, he and the Katagiri faction are like oil and water.”
“No way? Then never mind.”
“So unconcerned? I thought you cared for your disciple.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Huili’ang.” Takeben looked at the young man in the ring, the curve of his lips revealing a feral glint.
“My concern for my disciples begins and ends with whether they can fight. As for the rest?
—Not my problem!”
~~~~~~
As the dust settled, only Kyo Byakudō’s trousers remained somewhat intact of his pre-bout casual attire.
His shirt and shoes had long since been reduced to tatters by the ferocity of battle.
He strode across the red sand of the arena, calm once more after that near-maniacal exhilaration, and came to stand over his opponent.
He gazed with regret at Julius, whose neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, eyes rolled back, sprawled on the ground like a fallen mountain.
With the cervical vertebrae—the body’s control center—shattered so, even if he survived, the best outcome would be paralysis from the neck down, wouldn’t it?
“A formidable opponent. What a pity…”
“Get off the field when the match is over! Don’t block the medics!”
Before Kyo could offer his respects to his worthy adversary, a blond doctor in a white coat with dark circles under his eyes, accompanied by a nurse in a rather risqué uniform, barged past him with a stretcher.
“Huh?!” Out of combat, the youth was easygoing and quickly stepped aside. “He’s hurt this badly—can he even be saved?”
The doctor, whose coat bore a badge reading “Yingchu,” gave Kyo a surprised look.

“A mere cervical dislocation,” Yingchu said, toying with Julius’s neck, which now bent like a noodle, “at worst a fracture—nothing that can’t be restored with a bit of effort. Why give up on treatment?”
As if the question itself contradicted some universally acknowledged truth.
Kyo’s mouth twitched as he glanced at Julius’s neck, now bent at a sharp angle to his shoulder.
Then he looked at Dr. Yingchu, who was running his hands admiringly over Julius’s massive frame, his eyes gleaming, muttering now and then, “I’d love to dissect this one.”
Suddenly, Kyo’s tone became respectful.
“Could I have your business card, Doctor?”
“Of course.” A card was handed over, along with a heated gaze. “If you ever have trouble with your body, come see me for a thorough examination. I’m very interested in your physique.”
Kyo took the card, unfazed by the peculiar undertone in Yingchu’s voice.
Geniuses are always a little eccentric, after all.
A doctor who could say, “A cervical fracture? Not a big deal,” ought to be a bit odd.
Playing with the “miracle doctor’s” card in his hand, his hair now falling loosely, the youth returned to the tunnel amid the unending roar of the crowd.
In the tunnel’s shadow, Saeko, standing tall and radiant as a peony, waited alluringly.
“You seem delighted.”
“Of course.” Seeing the purple-haired beauty’s startled look, Kyo pulled her into a fierce embrace, as if wanting to merge her with himself. “It feels so good I can barely breathe!”
“And compared to last night?”
Her tone remained gentle, but the youth wasn’t fooled.
He seemed to ponder deeply, then answered uncertainly,
“Hmm… Maybe we should try again tonight before I decide?”
“Oh? Excellent.”
In response, the beauty’s arms slid around his waist.