Shirou's Return from the Fae Kingdom

"Let me in, Uncle, just for a moment. I'll be out once I'm done," Shirou said, placing a finger to his lips and imbuing his words with a hint of suggestion.

"Alright... you can only stay for a little while, kid."

The man in the black suit numbly stepped aside, allowing Shirou to pass.

"Sorry about this, Uncle."

Shirou climbed the stairs and twisted the doorknob to the office.

The smoke-filled room was sparsely furnished, with two leather sofas and a low table in the center. A sign bearing the Fujimura Group's name hung on the wall, alongside some indecipherable calligraphy.

In the most conspicuous corner of the room, a somewhat ostentatiously designed bamboo sword was displayed.

"Who's this brat? Is Tanaka slacking off again!"

Several men in matching suits and sunglasses, lounging on the sofas, dropped their cigarettes in surprise as Shirou entered.

"Who's in charge here? I want to see him."

Shirou's gaze swept over each man, instantly recognizing them as mere lackeys guarding the place. For some reason, the term "Yakuza Clone" popped into his mind.

"...Huh?"

"Who do you think you are, kid! Talking so big!"

"You think you can just waltz in and see Old Man Raika!"

One of the Yakuza Clones swaggered forward aggressively.

"Don't get angry, look at this."

Before the man could make a move, Shirou pulled a 10,000 yen bill from his pocket. "I want to see a man named Fujimura Raika."

"..."

The men's expressions froze. Huh, that's strange? Was the money not enough? Shirou frowned slightly and pulled out another 10,000 yen bill. He had left in a hurry and this was all the money he had. "This should be enough..."

"Slap!"

The money in Shirou's hand was knocked away. "You little brat! Are you messing with us!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to." Shirou apologized sincerely as the men in the room gathered around him.

"Kid, which yakuza group are you from?"

"Group? Oh, you mean 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're definitely messing with us!!" The men grew inexplicably angrier and advanced on him menacingly.

I see... Shirou realized, looking at the increasingly enraged faces of the Yakuza Clones. So, there are places in this world where money doesn't work. Truly...

Excellent.

This means I can return to what I do best.

"Ora!!"

A burly man lunged at Shirou, and at the same moment...

"--Trace On."

Fluorescent green light filled the room, and a wooden sword inscribed with "Dōyōko" appeared in Shirou's hand. Suddenly, a whirlwind erupted within the closed-off office.

The red-haired youth swung the wooden sword with his slender arms, sending the burly men in suits flying through the air and crashing onto the sofas.

"Wh-what?"

"Where did you get that wooden sword from!?"

The men panicked. One reached out to grab Shirou's collar, but the flying wooden sword struck his hand, eliciting a yelp of pain.

There were originally seven Yakuza Clones in the room, but within five seconds, six of them lay incapacitated on the floor. As for the last one, Shirou pointed "Dōyōko" at him and said, "Let me see your boss."

The man let out a strange cry and ran out of the office.

Shirou walked to the back of the room, opened the window, and took a deep breath.

"You guys should smoke less. You can't even beat a grade-schooler."

After placing "Dōyōko" beside him and waiting on the sofa for about fifteen minutes, the office door opened again.

The first to stride into the room was a tall old man.

He had a stern, square face, a neat salt-and-pepper crew cut, and wore a kimono with wooden sandals, exuding an old-fashioned aura that clashed with the modern city.

Behind him, men entered one after another.

Among the numerous Yakuza Clones, a girl with a ponytail in a school uniform had somehow mixed in.

The Fujimura Group members didn't make a ruckus; instead, they quietly surrounded Shirou three layers deep. The old man at the head sat down directly opposite him.

"So, you're the one who beat up all our young men and came here to challenge us. I thought I was getting hard of hearing with age, but it turns out you really are just a grade-schooler."

Fujimura Raika, the Fujimura Group Leader, glanced at the group members curled up on the floor.

"In our line of work, reputation is everything. If word of today's events gets out, the Fujimura Group might as well disband on the spot."

"Waaaaah! I'm sorry! Old Man!"

A Yakuza Clone, defeated by Shirou, cried out in anguish.

Fujimura Raika spoke in an extremely calm tone.

"Even if you're just a kid, you can't get away with this... You'll leave your pinky finger behind."

Volume 1, Chapter 016: Tiger of Fuyuki

Leave my pinky finger behind?

Was this some kind of code?

Shirou was confused.

But when he saw a group member toss a folding knife onto the table, he immediately understood.

I think I heard a similar story from someone before, I remember now!

It was said that lacking a pinky finger would result in losing more than half of one's grip strength, equivalent to the end of a swordsman's life, and was considered a special punishment in samurai society.

Shirou didn't make a sound and stated his purpose.

"I'm here about a man named Satō Kunihiro."

He thought he would need to explain who Satō was further, but for some reason, Fujimura Raika seemed to know him.

"Oh, that good-for-nothing who abandoned his wife and child. He did owe the group a large sum of money, and with interest, it's probably tripled by now. What? Has that guy really fallen so low that he needs a grade-schooler to mediate for him?"

The old man laughed heartily for a moment, then his expression turned serious, and he fixed Shirou with a sharp gaze.

"Kid, what's your relationship with him?"

Shirou answered truthfully, "Satō treated me to a meal this morning."

Fujimura Raika paused, then asked incredulously, "So, you came alone to fight the Fujimura Group to repay him for one meal?"

Shirou didn't explain, just nodded. "You can think of it that way, although I personally have no intention of starting a fight."

Fujimura Raika slapped his thigh and burst into laughter.

"These modern grade-schoolers are too influenced by yakuza movies!"

The Yakuza Clones also laughed along.

Shirou didn't understand the joke, nor did he know what a yakuza movie was.

He stared at the folding knife on the table and retorted, "If I leave my pinky finger, will Satō's debt be cleared?"

"No, the pinky finger is for hitting our young men. If you want Satō's debt cleared, you'll have to cut off another one."

Fujimura Raika rubbed his chin and said with a smile, "I'd love to say that, but at your age, they only charge half price at the movies, so we'll just count this as one pinky finger this time. But are you really sure you want to do this? Judging by your skills, you should be a promising star in kendo. Are you sure you want to give up your-- for that kind of trash?"

"Thank you."

Shirou grabbed the folding knife on the table without hesitation, placing his right hand, fingers spread, on the table.

With Shirou's skill, he could make the cleanest cut. Afterward, he could simply reattach it with the healing Magic of a third-rate Magus.

"!"

Fujimura Raika's eyes widened.

The boy flicked open the folding knife and, without a moment's hesitation, brought it down towards his pinky finger--

A large hand caught the falling blade.

Fujimura Raika gripped the blade, stopping Shirou's finger-cutting attempt.

"Old Man!" the Yakuza Clone shouted in panic.

"That's way too reckless, Grandfather!"

The schoolgirl rushed forward to check the old man's injured hand, but...

"Huh? How is that possible?"

Fujimura Raika's palm wasn't cut at all.

Even a yakuza boss was still a mortal human. Shirou swung his blade very fast; under those circumstances, it was impossible not to be cut, unless...

Fujimura Raika narrowed his eyes and looked at the red-haired boy with an expression of both surprise and suspicion. "Kid, did you know I would do this from the very beginning?"

Shirou tilted his head. "I don't understand what you're saying, old man. Could you please not get in the way of me cutting my finger?"

"Tch... Fine, I won't cut it anymore!"

Fujimura Raika, like a spoiled child, threw the folding knife into the trash can.

Seeing this, Shirou pressed further, "So, are you willing to waive Satō's debt?"

Upon hearing him say this, the yakuza boss's expression turned serious.

"No, I'm not. Figure out why yourself."

"Satō has repented. He will definitely work hard from now on."

Fujimura Raika said, "What proof do you have for saying that?"

Shirou's expression turned serious. "I've always been a good judge of character."

"..."