Chapter 304: Your Only Job is to Enjoy This
Jaku Kaioh had delivered his grand critique, but it was clear that it hadn't
made much of a dent.
Fusui Kure continued to lean comfortably against Ren Shiroki, Karura was still
deep in her analysis of Ohma Tokita's whereabouts, and the Patriarch, Erio Kure,
was silently vibrating as his blood pressure hit record highs.
Jaku Kaioh: "..."
The alcohol had finally gone to his head. With tears welling in his eyes, he
retreated to a corner to draw dejected circles in the dust, while Reiichi Kure
offered him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
The hall was filled with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. The
incident was quickly forgotten.
Night deepened, and the banquet eventually wound down.
The guests began returning to their quarters. Fusui was dragged off by a group
of childhood friends for some "girl talk," leaving Ren Shiroki with some rare
free time.
He headed out alone, wandering through the streets of Kure Village to admire the
night view and the vibrant energy of the festival preparations.
As the sun disappeared, the town actually became livelier. Although the Kure
Clan hosted the event, they weren't the only ones enjoying it. The ordinary
residents of the village treated it as a massive summer carnival funded by the
local elite—a staple of their annual social calendar.
While they were unaware of the lethal matches taking place in the octagon, they
were all eagerly counting down the hours to the Grand Fireworks Display.
Occasionally, Ren spotted a stray salaryman in a brown suit—likely in town for
business—looking wide-eyed and overwhelmed by the sheer variety of the street
food stalls.
"Haha! A local summer festival?" "This feels like being in a theme park! I'm
actually getting hyped~!"
Ren's two victories earlier that day had made him a minor celebrity among the
locals. Many of the Kure disciples now recognized the tall youth, Jaku Kaioh,
and Sekibayashi.
But Ren—with his two-match win streak and his infectious combat energy—was the
favorite. As he walked, the hospitality was relentless.
"Ren-kun! Want to try my family's octopus balls?" "Yo, Ren! Let's grab a drink,
my treat!" "Where's Fusui-nee?" "Good luck on the final night, kid!"
Ren strolled through the block. He hadn't intended to buy anything, but before
long, his arms were full of shopping bags and his mouth was stuffed with various
snacks. He eventually found a quiet corner to organize his haul into one large
bag, making his walk much easier.
"Phew!"
He continued his stroll, feeling the cool night air on his skin. Although he was
still wrapped in bandages and his right wrist was secured with a light splint,
the injuries were strictly surface-level. His biological recovery rate was so
high he felt virtually zero discomfort.
Suddenly—"WATCH OUT!"
A man hauling a stack of heavy crates tripped over a loose floorboard. The
cardboard boxes wobbled precariously, clearly a heartbeat away from crashing
down.
Ren reacted instantly. He snapped his right leg upward in a vertical split. He
used the side of his foot to catch the top of the stack, pinning it against the
air to stabilize the weight.
Once the man regained his balance and secured the load, Ren retracted his leg
and performed a light back-hop. He landed steadily, his movements fluid and
anchored.
The delivery man stared at Ren's bandages, then at his face. "T-Thank you...!"
Ren offered a polite nod and continued his walk.
Vaguely, a dark battle aura began to radiate from him, the ink-wash lines of his
soul warping the air around his silhouette. He felt good. His body felt lighter
than air, the injuries acting as nothing more than a mild stimulant. He actually
found himself wanting another match.
"Haha... I guess I really can't help it," Ren murmured, drifting through the
crowd.
As he crossed into a secondary commercial street, he spotted a familiar
silhouette approaching.
He was a tall, lean man, standing well over 190cm. He had slightly curly red
hair and sharp, handsome features. He was dressed in a simple black training
suit. Though he wore a mask and a cap, the predatory elegance of his gait made
him impossible to miss.
His name: Doyle.
The convict who had escaped Carios Prison in the UK, traveling across the world
to taste the "Bitterness of Defeat." He had clashed with Ren and the other
masters multiple times. Most recently, he had used a disguise to ambush Raian
Kure, leading to a high-rise fall and a sewer chase where he'd narrowly escaped
the "Devil."
Ren hadn't expected to find him here.
He blinked. Doyle was currently carrying two large bags of daily
essentials—water, towels, canned goods. He looked like he had just finished a
routine grocery run.
"..."
Doyle noticed Ren at the same time. His expression of shock appeared genuine,
devoid of his usual theatrical flair.
Clearly, Doyle hadn't expected to run into Ren Shiroki tonight either!
Both men stood in the middle of the crowded street, staring at each other. The
irony of the situation wasn't lost on them. What are the odds?
The silence was broken by a voice from the side.
"Oho! Shiroki-kun! Your matches today were magnificent! Want to come in for a
quick drink?"
Ren looked over. It was a beautiful Kure woman in a traditional kimono—the owner
of a nearby Izakaya. Ren had helped her clear out some IDEAL stragglers when he
first arrived in the village.
"..."
Ren kept his eyes locked on Doyle. He didn't know what to say.
The Kure owner, sensing the unnatural tension, slowly moved her hand toward the
tactical dagger hidden in her obi. She offered a cold, professional smile. "Is
this a friend of yours, Ren-kun? Do we need to 'host' him?"
Ren thought for a moment, then shook his head. "An old acquaintance. But we
aren't 'Close' enough for a formal welcome. Don't worry about it."
"Understood." The woman nodded and retreated back into her shop.
Once the Kure member was gone, Doyle let out a visible breath of relief. He
tilted the brim of his cap lower, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"Two men finish their shopping and head home, only to run into each other on a
crowded street..." Doyle murmured, his eyes narrowing. "Heh. The world is full
of strange coincidences, isn't it?"
"We aren't here for an ambush. There was no plan. No bait."
"But," Doyle continued, "according to the rules of that 'Street Brawl,' a battle
can start the moment two participants meet... if I remember correctly."
He scanned the festive crowd and shrugged. "But in a place this lively... it
would be quite rude to start swinging, wouldn't it?"
Ren considered a dozen different responses. Eventually, he settled on one:
"Nice. That's perfect!"
Doyle froze, then let out a sharp, amused laugh. "Hee-hee...!"
This kid is something else!
Doyle gripped his grocery bags and turned down a smaller side street. He slowed
his pace significantly, making it obvious he was waiting for Ren to follow.
Ren complied.
The two walked side-by-side, four hands carrying three bags of groceries. To any
passerby, they looked like two old friends heading home after a day of shopping.
"Thanks for the cover back there," Doyle said casually. "Though your family
wouldn't have found me anyway."
Ren tilted his head, letting Doyle keep talking.
Doyle chuckled. "I figured the best place to hide from that 'Devil' Raian was
right under his nose. I dived into the village and went to ground. It's given me
a chance to recover. The 'Dark Spot under the Lamp,' as they say."
"That Kure man is a mad dog. Hard to deal with. Shaking him off was quite the
ordeal."
"Anyway, I've got a tent set up in the mountains nearby. Good environment. Fresh
air. Very peaceful—"
Doyle continued his domestic chatter, and Ren listened in silence. After venting
a few more complaints about Raian, Doyle noticed Ren's lack of reaction. He
decided to probe a different angle.
"You're injured."
"Makes sense. You've been fighting Kaiohs and Pro-Wrestlers all day. It's
impossible to come out of that unscathed."
"I used to be an operative. Intelligence gathering is second nature. Everyone
knows you took some hits today."
"With that in mind... shouldn't we call it off for tonight? For both our sakes?"
Doyle offered a serene, reasonable smile. "Let's just pretend we never saw each
other. We part ways here."
"After all... fighting an injured opponent won't give me the taste of defeat I'm
looking for, will it?"
"..."
Ren thought back to their last encounter. "You escaped Raian's hands."
Doyle nodded. "It was a close one. I thought I was a dead man. Fortunately, I'd
scouted the drainage system beforehand, and the police were careless."
He looked at Ren. "What? You want to call me cowardly? Or mock me for running?"
Ren considered the question. "No. Actually... I think the fact that you managed
to escape him is pretty impressive."
"Haha! Really?"
Doyle's eyes crinkled in a genuine laugh. He continued his leisurely pace beside
Ren. His narrow eyes scanned the festival lanterns.
"Is there a celebration tonight? The vibe is different from my homeland. Very
exotic."
"Even though this is Kure territory, there are so many civilians here. Living
among the sheep... quite the disguise."
"If I were surrounded by the whole Clan, I doubt I'd make it out alive."
Doyle gave Ren a friendly nudge with his elbow. "So, for my safety, your
physical condition, and the 'Good Vibes' of the festival... let's not cause a
scene in public, okay?"
"..."
Ren remained silent, appearing to concede to Doyle's logic.
They reached a street corner. Doyle tilted his chin toward the darkened path
ahead. "I'm heading this way. See you around."
As he spoke, Doyle's lead foot began to grind into the pavement, kicking up a
tiny spray of dirt—the start of a blinding feint to set up a sneak attack.
But the next heartbeat—BANG!
Ren twisted his waist and core in a blurred rotation. He unleashed a [ZANGIEF'S
CHARGED HEAVY PUNCH] that caught Doyle flush on the side of the face.
The convict was launched off his feet, hurtling sideways into a nearby souvenir
stall.
CRASH-RATTLE!
Doyle slammed into the display, his cap and mask flying off. He was buried under
a pile of keychains and trinkets, retching blood. He looked like a total wreck.
"My condition is just fine—"
"Actually, I'm feeling great. I'm having the time of my life!"
Ren ripped the splint from his right wrist, flexing his fist. A look of pure,
unadulterated relief washed over his face.
"As for the 'Good Vibes'?"
"On this turf, I'm close with the MPD and the Kure Clan. Both sides have my
back. No one is going to disturb us."
Ren stepped forward, looming over the debris. He broke into a wide, boisterous
laugh.
"It's just a fight, Doyle-san. You don't have to worry about anything. You don't
have to act 'polite' or 'gentle' for my sake. I'll take responsibility for all
the messy details."
"Your only job... is to Enjoy this, Doyle-aniki~~!!"
(End of Chapter)
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