"Let me in, Uncle. Just for a little while. I'll leave as soon as I'm done."
As he spoke, Shirou raised his index finger to his lips, infusing his words with the power of suggestion.
"Okay... but only for a little while, little brother."
The man in black blankly stepped aside to let Shirou through.
"Sorry for the trouble, Uncle."
Shirou climbed the stairs and twisted open the office door.
The smoky room was sparsely furnished. Two leather sofas and a low table sat in the middle, while a sign bearing the words "Fujimura Group" and some meaningless Chinese calligraphy hung on the wall.
Then, in the most conspicuous corner of the room, there was a somewhat ostentatious bamboo sword.
"Where did this brat come from? Is that Tanaka slacking off again?"
Several uniformly dressed men in suits and sunglasses were chatting on the sofas. When they saw Shirou, one of them dropped his cigarette in surprise.
"Which one of you is the boss here? I want to see him."
Shirou's gaze swept across their faces, and he immediately determined that these men were merely underlings left behind to guard the place.
For some reason, the term "Yakuza Clone" surfaced in his mind.
"...Huh?"
"Who the hell are you, brat? What a cocky way to talk!"
"Do you think Old Man Raika is someone you can just see whenever you want?"
One of the Yakuza Clones came over menacingly.
"Don't get angry. Look at this."
Before the man could make a move, Shirou pulled a 10,000-yen note from his pocket. "I want to see a man named Fujimura Raika."
"..."
All the men's expressions froze.
Huh? That's strange. Was it not enough money?
Shirou frowned slightly and pulled out another 10,000-yen note. He had left in such a hurry that this was all the money he had on him.
"This should be enough..."
"Smack!"
The money in Shirou's hand was knocked away.
"You little brat! Are you making fun of us?"
"Sorry, that wasn't my intention."
Shirou apologized sincerely, and the men in the room all gathered around him.
"Brat, which group sent you?"
"Group? Oh, do you mean an organization?"
Shirou proudly announced the name of the organization he had established in the Fae Kingdom. "I'm from the Fae Round Table."
"Huh? You really are making fun of us!!"
For some reason, the men grew increasingly furious and advanced on him menacingly.
I see...
Looking at the Yakuza Clones' increasingly enraged expressions, Shirou suddenly understood.
So there were places in this world where money didn't work either. Truly...
Great.
In that case, I can return to my area of expertise.
"Ora!!"
A burly man lunged at Shirou. At the same time...
"Trace on."
Green light filled the entire room, and a wooden sword engraved with the words "Dōyōko" appeared in Shirou's hand.
Suddenly, a whirlwind began to blow through the office, despite all the doors and windows being closed.
The red-haired boy swung the wooden sword with his slender arm, sending the towering man in the suit flying through the air and crashing heavily onto the sofa.
"Wh-what?"
"Where did that wooden sword come from!?"
The men in suits panicked. One of them reached out to grab Shirou by the collar, but the flying wooden sword smacked the back of his hand, making him cry out in pain.
There had originally been seven Yakuza Clones in the room, but within less than five seconds, six of them had fallen one after another.
As for the one remaining, Shirou lowered "Dōyōko" and said, "Take me to your boss."
The man let out a strange cry and ran out of the office.
Shirou went to the back of the room and opened a window, then took a deep breath.
"Try smoking less. You can't even beat an elementary school student."
He placed "Dōyōko" beside him and sat on the sofa. After waiting for about fifteen minutes, the office door opened again.
The first person to stride into the room was a tall old man.
His square face was stern and unsmiling, his neat crew cut gray and white. He wore a kimono with wooden sandals, and his entire being radiated an old-fashioned air completely out of place in a modern city.
The men filed in behind him.
Among the large number of Yakuza Clones, for some reason there was also a ponytailed girl wearing a school uniform.
The members of the Fujimura Group did not make a scene. Instead, they silently surrounded Shirou in several layers, while the old man at the front sat down directly opposite him.
"So you're the dojo-crashing bastard who beat down all the young men here.
I thought my ears had gone bad with age, but it turns out you really are just an elementary school student."
The Fujimura Group Leader—Fujimura Raika—glanced at the members curled up on the floor.
"The most important thing in our line of work is our reputation. If word of what happened today gets out, the Fujimura Group might as well disband on the spot."
"Waaah! I'm sorry, Old Man!"
The Yakuza Clone Shirou had defeated cried out in anguish.
Fujimura Raika spoke in an utterly calm tone.
"Even if you're just a brat, I can't let this slide... Leave your little finger behind."
Volume One 016: Tiger of Fuyuki
Leave my little finger behind?
Was that some kind of coded expression?
Shirou was baffled.
However, when he saw one of the members toss a folding knife onto the table, he immediately understood.
I think I've heard a similar story before. I remember now!
Apparently, losing the little finger meant losing more than half one's grip strength, which was equivalent to the end of a swordsman's life. That was why it was regarded as a special punishment in samurai society.
Shirou did not comment on it, but instead stated his purpose.
"I came here because of a man named Satō Kunihiro."
He had thought he would need to explain who Satō was, but for some reason Fujimura Raika seemed to know him.
"Oh, that good-for-nothing who abandoned his wife and child. He does owe the group a large sum of money. With interest, it's probably tripled by now.
What? Has that man fallen so far that he needs an elementary school student to mediate for him?"
The old man laughed heartily for a while before returning to a serious expression and fixing Shirou with a sharp gaze.
"Boy, what's your relationship with him?"
Shirou answered truthfully, "Satō bought me a meal this morning."
Fujimura Raika froze for a moment and asked incredulously, "So you came alone to wage war against the Fujimura Group just to repay him for one meal?"
Shirou did not explain. He merely nodded. "You can consider it that, although I personally had no intention of starting a war."
Fujimura Raika slapped his thigh and burst out laughing.
"Elementary school students these days have been poisoned by yakuza movies!"
The Yakuza Clones also began laughing along.
Shirou did not know what was funny, nor did he know what a yakuza movie was.
He stared at the folding knife on the table and asked in return, "If I leave my little finger behind, will you write off Satō's debt?"
"No. The little finger is payment for beating up the young men in the group. If you want Satō's debt canceled, you'll have to cut off another one."
Fujimura Raika rubbed his chin and said with a smile, "I'd like to say that, but at your age, you'd only pay half price at the cinema, so we'll count just one little finger this time.
But are you really sure you want to do this?
Judging by your skills, you should be a promising star of kendo. Are you sure you want to give up your own—"
"Thank you."
Without hesitation, Shirou snatched up the folding knife on the table and placed his right hand, fingers spread, on the tabletop.
With Shirou's technique, he could make the cleanest cut possible. Afterward, all he needed to do was reconnect it with the healing magecraft of a third-rate magus.
"!"
Fujimura Raika's eyes widened.
The boy flicked open the folding knife, then brought it down toward his little finger without the slightest hesitation—
A large hand caught the descending blade.
Fujimura Raika gripped the blade and stopped Shirou from cutting off his finger.
"Old Man!" the Yakuza Clones shouted in alarm.
"That was too reckless, Grandpa!"
The uniformed girl rushed over to inspect the old man's injured hand, but...
"Huh? How?"
Fujimura Raika's palm had not been cut.
Even a yakuza boss was still a flesh-and-blood human being. Shirou's blade had been moving too quickly for him to avoid injury under those circumstances, unless...
Fujimura Raika narrowed his eyes and looked at the red-haired boy with an expression of surprise. "Boy, did you know from the beginning that I would do that?"
Shirou tilted his head. "I don't understand what you're talking about, old man. Please don't get in the way of me cutting off my finger."
"Tch... Forget it, forget it!"
Like a child throwing a tantrum, Fujimura Raika tossed the folding knife into the trash can.
Seeing this, Shirou pressed him. "So, does that mean you're willing to cancel Satō's debt?"
The Fujimura Group Leader's expression turned serious upon hearing that.
"No. Figure out for yourself why not."
"Satō has repented. He'll definitely work hard from now on."
Fujimura Raika said, "What proof do you have?"
Shirou answered seriously, "I've always been good at judging people."
"..."
Before you continue