After leaving the dagashi shop, both Kiryu Kazuma and Fujii Mikako seemed to be under some kind of silence spell. In the end, they parted awkwardly at their usual bus stop—each heading home to their respective families.
As he walked, Kazuma kept replaying the scene of himself thrashing those yakuza thugs earlier.
It felt like his current Shintō-ryū kendo level—rank 6—was completely overpowered against those punks.
That thug leader, the only one wearing their gang's emblem, should have been their strongest fighter. But he only had Judo level 1, and still got steamrolled. He hardly seemed like the kind of fighter you'd expect from a gang lieutenant.
Could it be that the entire Tsuda-gumi is just that weak? Is that why someone like him ended up as a small-time boss? Kazuma couldn't help but wonder.
A pity his cheat ability had only activated last night during meditation. It was only this morning at school that he'd started seeing others' fighting styles.
During afternoon practice, when he glanced at Daimon Gorō, the numbers were visible: Style-less, level 8—stronger than Kazuma.
But this morning, when he'd seen Daimon Gorō at the school gate, and again during their punishment laps, there had been no numbers yet.
Clearly, the cheat was activating in stages. That would explain why when the other group of yakuza came by this morning with the dead chicken, Kazuma still couldn't see their levels.
I wonder if that group is just as weak...
If they are, maybe it's time to change tactics and go straight to their office and issue a dojo challenge.
The thought made Kazuma a little excited. He loved that yakuza-themed game Yakuza (Ryū ga Gotoku). In it, the protagonist Kazuma Kiryu could single-handedly take down entire gangs—so cool.
If the real yakuza are this weak, I wouldn't mind experiencing a solo beatdown like that myself.
Of course, reason quickly reined him in. The yakuza couldn't possibly be that weak—there had to be real fighters among them.
After all, this was still the era of fierce yakuza rivalries in Japan.
Kazuma took a deep breath to calm down. Then another thought surfaced—something else he'd noticed earlier.
After I knocked out several enemies, I saw a "Shaken" status appear on them.
But things had been chaotic at the time, so he hadn't been able to examine it closely. Now he wasn't entirely sure if he'd really seen the red "Shaken" marker or just imagined it.
Still, considering he could clearly see Fujii Mikako's strained left wrist earlier—that counted as a status too—then logically, seeing "Shaken" should be possible.
Now Kazuma wanted to figure out: was this Shaken status something the thugs naturally developed after watching him effortlessly knock out their friends, or was it some special ability granted by his cheat?
As he walked, he checked his skill menu again—he no longer needed to meditate to see it.
"I don't have any skill here that applies a Shaken status," he muttered.
So maybe it's a natural reaction?
That would make sense—after watching their comrades drop one after another, any normal person would get intimidated.
Still, to be thorough, he should find a way to test it… but how?
Maybe during tomorrow's kendo club practice I could yell, "I'll take on ten at once!" and see what happens?
No, that'll just get me extra laps from Daimon-sensei.
Maybe during the kendo tournament?
But the tournament wasn't a gauntlet-style match. It was team-based, one-on-one: lead vs. lead, second vs. second, and so on.
Based on last year, Kazuma would likely be assigned as middle guard or sub-captain. The captain spot would go to the club president.
Either way, he'd only get one bout per match.
If it were gauntlet style, I could test it by taking out three opponents in a row and seeing if the fourth came in with a "Shaken" debuff...
Lost in thought, Kazuma turned onto the street where his family's dojo was located—and spotted one of their neighbors moving out.
"Kawa-san," Kazuma greeted the man, who was loading furniture onto a moving truck. "Good afternoon."
"Kiryū-kun, back already?"
"Yeah. Are you moving?"
Kawa-san gave a rueful smile. "That's right. Been living in Kitakatsushi for so long—figured it's time for a change of scenery. I just saw Sumitomo Construction's Ogawara-san heading toward your dojo. Take my advice: you should really sign the papers and sell while you can."
He sighed after speaking.
Kazuma could tell from his expression—Kawa-san was simply scared of the yakuza, and choosing to flee.
After saying farewell to the neighbor, Kazuma hurried toward his dojo. Sure enough, he spotted Ogawara-san from Sumitomo Construction standing at the entrance.
Ogawara was sharply dressed, the image of a corporate salaryman. When he saw Kazuma approaching, he bowed politely.
To be fair, Kazuma had a decent impression of Ogawara. The man was always polite, had raised his offer several times—and being willing to raise the price definitely earned him points.
"Good afternoon, Ogawara-san," Kazuma greeted him.
"Good afternoon."
"Why are you waiting outside?" Kazuma had barely asked when he noticed his sister, Chiyoko, scrubbing something at the entrance.
She was clearly ignoring Ogawara.
"Chiyoko, at least let him inside," Kazuma chided.
Chiyoko frowned and shot him a glance.
Before she could speak, Ogawara said, "No need. Actually, I came to say goodbye."
Surprised, Chiyoko stood, cloth in hand, and stared at him.
"Sumitomo Construction recently created a new division—Relocation Department. It's been running on a trial basis and has already saved the company a lot of money. Going forward, all property acquisitions will be handled by them. As of 6:00 PM today, our marketing department will no longer be involved."
Kazuma felt a faint sense of unease.
A new department, performing exceptionally well, saving lots of money…?
That sounds ominous...
Ogawara continued, "Any agreements signed before 6:00 PM today under our department will still be honored. I advise you to sell now. Once Relocation takes over, you won't get this price again."
Before Kazuma could reply, Chiyoko cut in sharply. "We're not selling! No matter what price you offer! So even if your new department lowers it, it doesn't concern us!"
Ogawara hesitated, then silently looked at Kazuma.
Kazuma understood instantly.
It's clear—if we don't sell now, the next offer will be much lower.
After all, once yakuza get involved, there's no way the full price will reach the seller. At minimum, they'll deduct a cut for the gang.
Or maybe the gang will buy the deed themselves, then flip it to Sumitomo later. Either way, Kazuma knew: they'd end up with far less.
He glanced at Chiyoko, who had returned to scrubbing the floor. "What's going on with the floor? Didn't you wash off the chicken blood this morning?"
Chiyoko glared at Ogawara. "Ask him!"
Kazuma turned to Ogawara.
"We honestly don't know," Ogawara said earnestly. "We don't deal with the yakuza."
"They threw seven or eight dead rats at our door! Blood everywhere! And you say you don't know?!" Chiyoko shouted.
Ogawara bowed his head. "I'm very sorry. But there's nothing I can do. If you'd just sign—"
"We're not selling! Do you think I'd trust you? This is all a setup! You might fool my brother, but not me!" Chiyoko yelled.
Kazuma started, "Chiyoko, I think—"
She cut him off. "If you want to sell, then sign it yourself! You're the older brother, the head of the household—you have the right! But if you dare sign it, I'll jump off Tokyo Tower!"
Kazuma could only shut his mouth.
Whenever it came to the dojo, Chiyoko became utterly emotional—nothing like her usual obedient self.
And Kazuma understood. After all, he'd inherited Kiryu Kazuma's memories. He knew how many cherished memories of their late parents were tied to this dojo.
Chiyoko now shouted at him, "You used to promise me you'd restore the dojo to greatness! Liar!"
With that, she threw down the cloth and stormed inside, leaving Kazuma and Ogawara standing awkwardly at the door.
Kazuma sighed. "Ogawara-san, I appreciate your kindness. But if I sign now, Chiyoko really will jump. I can't risk it."
Ogawara sighed too. "Today it was rats. Who knows what it'll be tomorrow. Don't have any illusions about those yakuza. They'll stoop to anything. They're animals."
Kazuma nearly replied, I've already seen for myself.
He'd witnessed the Tsuda-gumi smashing up the dagashi shop and assaulting the nearly fifty-year-old shopkeeper—he'd been right there for the whole thing.
And had soundly thrashed them, too.
Ogawara packed up the contract, glanced at his watch.
"Three minutes to six. Take care, Kiryū-kun."
"I will."
"And protect your sister. If you need anything, contact me—I'll do what I can."
With that, Ogawara gave one last glance at the dojo gate, shook his head, and walked off with his briefcase.
The setting sun painted the sky orange-red, its light gleaming faintly off Ogawara's thinning hair.
Kazuma pursed his lips.
Did I… just make a pivotal choice?
Should I have signed… and tied Chiyoko up for a few days until she calmed down?
Just then, the neighborhood speakers crackled to life, playing a segment from Dvořák's Symphony No. 9 in E minor—better known as From the New World.
This was a local custom in Japan. At sunset, municipal speakers scattered across neighborhoods would play this piece to remind children it was time to go home.
Later, as Tokyo and other cities modernized, many public speakers were dismantled and the practice discontinued. But in rural areas, it still persisted.
Hearing Dvořák's music echoing through empty fields at dusk carried an eerie atmosphere, and many artistic works had used it to heighten a sense of dread.
Some even saw the music's arrival as a sign of twilight's "witching hour."
In Kitakatsushi Ward in 1980, Dvořák's music still played on schedule.
As Kazuma watched Ogawara's retreating figure beneath the setting sun, the music in his ears, an uncanny feeling welled up—like he was stepping into the witching hour himself, about to face a parade of a hundred demons.
(End of Chapter)