Live a Little More Freely (continued)

"Yeah, I've heard of it. I thought it was just some kind of urban legend."

Shiraki Uke took the contract and looked it over.

He had to admit that, compared to a thug's intimidation and extortion, a financial conglomerate like the Teiai Group, which operated on both sides of the law, was what really made big money.

It had both illegal muscle and the backing of legitimate banks.

As long as a debtor was still part of "society" and still had "attachments" and "desires," there was no chance they could abandon all hope and give up, let alone default on their debt. They could only be squeezed dry, bit by bit!

His younger sister, Sakurai Arisa, was still in school, and he didn't want to sell the dojo property the old man had left behind. Shiraki Uke needed time to consider his next move, so this opportunity came at just the right time.

Besides, he was also very interested in the "Kengan matches."

Seeing Shiraki Uke agree so readily, the Sanjigumi underboss grew a little uneasy instead, afraid that he might try something clever.

"Don't you get any funny ideas!"

The underboss clenched his fist and waved it in front of Shiraki Uke's face, the threat clear enough.

Shiraki Uke, however, remained calm.

He had just faced Ryu's fist head-on. By comparison, the underboss before him was utterly second-rate.

Even if the man threw a punch at him right now, he could easily dodge it, then turn and punch, smashing his glasses and the bridge of his nose.

A fight like that really wasn't interesting.

So, after signing the match contract, Shiraki Uke returned to thinking about Ryu's punch, an ardent impulse stirring within him as he considered how to dodge it.

Seeing Shiraki Uke space out again, the two debt collectors were puzzled, but the underboss couldn't be bothered with him anymore.

"Leave him alone. He's had his brains knocked loose!"

Cursing under his breath, the underboss left with the two debt collectors, saying only, "See you in three nights."

Peace returned to the area, leaving Shiraki Uke standing there alone.

Before his eyes, Ryu's ink-wash silhouette reappeared, even more solid than before. Even the folds in his gi were outlined.

Whoosh!

Ryu stepped forward and threw another straight punch, his movement a pleasure to watch, its precision bordering on perfection.

But that was from an onlooker's perspective.

To Shiraki Uke, who faced the punch head-on, the simple, unadorned movement carried an indescribable killing intent. He could almost see exactly how the word "death" was written!

Dodge?

He couldn't!

Shiraki Uke changed his movement and tried to sidestep half a pace, but he was still too slow. Ryu's fist struck him squarely in the side of the face. In an instant, it felt as though half his face had been smashed to pulp, and he didn't even know how many teeth had been knocked out!

Crash!

Shiraki Uke suddenly fell backward, knocking over a pile of odds and ends. He clutched his face, his body twitching uncontrollably.

"Ptooey..."

He pursed his lips. His face was fine, and his teeth weren't broken either, but he really did spit out a mouthful of bloody froth—a testament to the wonders of the human body.

Lying on his back, Shiraki Uke suddenly found it a little funny, and then he actually laughed out loud.

He wiped the bloody froth from the corner of his mouth and tilted his head up to look at the sky as he laughed, so delighted that he couldn't help pounding the ground.

He had never imagined a day like this would come—

He had recalled a pile of things that seemed familiar but weren't quite right. An illusion of Ryu had thrown a punch at him. His incurable boxer's disease had healed. The Teiai Group had come to collect a debt, and now he had to fight a Kengan fighter in an underground match...

"Street Fighter," "Kaiji," "Kengan Ashura"... what else was there?

This world was so fucking interesting!

Recovering from a serious illness was like being born anew. Shiraki Uke accepted it all without reservation and came to a realization—

He needed to live a little more freely.

Luckily, no one was around, or Shiraki Uke's laughter would surely have made their skin crawl.

Unable to calm himself down, Shiraki Uke went to the dilapidated storeroom and carried out a standing punching bag. It was covered in a thick layer of dust that made him cough.

After Shiraki Uke fell ill, the old training equipment couldn't be sold for any money, so it had been put away in the storeroom.

He set the punching bag down in the open space.

Shiraki Uke planted his feet and assumed a stance—a little different from orthodox karate.

Sideways, shoulder raised, lead forearm held across his body, rear hand guarding his chin.

It was entirely instinctive—or rather, the punch from the illusory Ryu had forced him into it, making his stance more like Ryu's.

A fighting grandmaster like Ryu was feeding him moves. Such an opportunity was rare, so of course Shiraki Uke had to give it his all, thinking about how to evade Ryu's straight punch and counterattack afterward.

Whoosh! Whoosh...

His feet slid back and forth, light but slightly stiff.

After all, he had been ill for five years and unable to exercise in that time. It was only natural that his skills and physical condition had deteriorated drastically. He had long since fallen below the level of a prospective professional fighter.

Shiraki Uke knew full well that he wasn't some "greatest fighting genius in human history."

What he needed to do now was get back from a negative number to the starting line. Only then could he talk about moving forward!

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Punch after punch struck the bag, and the muscles in his body gradually warmed up.

But no matter how hard Shiraki Uke concentrated, he still couldn't shake Ryu's punch from his mind, and no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't evade it completely.

"Phew..."

He let out a breath of hot air.

Facing another identical straight punch from Ryu, Shiraki Uke tried ducking this time, only for the force of the oncoming fist to throw him off balance. He nearly fell to the ground.

Helplessness turned to frustration and anger. Shiraki Uke came to his senses in his crouch and drove an uppercut upward.

Bang!

His fist struck the punching bag with a bang, sending it flying off the ground and over the nearby wall.

"Huff... huff..."

Shiraki Uke's wrist tingled, but he felt little joy.

His punch had certainly been powerful enough, but the problem was that his "opponent" wasn't a punching bag standing still.

In an actual fight, losing his balance while crouching would leave him vulnerable to a ground submission, a front kick, a roundhouse kick, or even a soccer kick—any of them could kill him!

"Moves fed by a fighting grandmaster really are hard to deal with."

After resting for a while, Shiraki Uke went to wash the sweat from his head.

He took out his phone and browsed at random, hoping to "reacquaint" himself with this world as much as possible. In the corners of certain forums, he found a few traces—

The "man of the divine realm," who had dominated underground mahjong without a single loss for decades;

Kakerou, a neutral organization that witnessed and certified wagers at its members' request and was responsible for collecting the stakes;

The Army of God, a religious organization that had suddenly been wiped out;

The "Tokyo Dome underground arena," established under the leadership of a major financial conglomerate, where fighters from every school and style gathered, a place known as a holy land;

And so on and so forth...

The information seemed plausible but uncertain, and some of it was even classified as unreliable urban legend.

But considering the memories in his head, Shiraki Uke could basically conclude that these things were real, just unknown to the general public!

"Haha..."

Lying on his back on the sofa in the open space, feeling the breeze, Shiraki Uke suddenly felt refreshed.

He had finally gotten some exercise, and his body felt much better. He drifted off in a daze, sleeping until a commotion woke him.

When he opened his eyes, it was already dusk, the time when school let out.

His sister, Sakurai Arisa, was coming down the street with two girls in the same school uniform, chatting and laughing all the way.

"Bro, enjoying the sun?"

Arisa waved to Shiraki Uke, then hurried forward a couple of steps. Pressing her palms together apologetically, she introduced her two classmates to her brother.

"This is Kozue Matsumoto, and the other one is Kure Karura."

"We went to a dessert shop together, so I'm a little late getting back. Sorry, sorry... Bro? Are you listening?"

Of course Shiraki Uke was listening.

Hearing the two girls' names in particular further confirmed his earlier judgment.

His mind began running wild again...

"Stop!"

Shiraki Uke hurriedly called a halt. That can wait. Don't go running wild, no need!