CHAPTER 53: HIS NAME IS KAORU HANAYAMA!
The unnecessary spectators had all filtered out.
The staff responsible for the matches had nearly finished their cleanup. The Livehouse was now a cavernous, echoing space, feeling colder and quieter than it had five minutes ago.
But as the "Colossus" entered, the empty space felt like it was being physically displaced. Every eye in the room was pulled toward him, unable to look away.
He wore a double-breasted white suit with a deep purple shirt underneath. On his feet were high-end pointed leather shoes that clicked rhythmically against the floor.
Pressure.
That was the only word that could describe the master of that body.
He had moved beyond the definition of "well-built." He was an anatomical anomaly—the kind of physical presence that forced passersby to stop and stare in silent awe.
He stood over 190cm (6'3") and weighed more than 160kg (350 lbs).
His neck was a column of solid muscle; his chest was as thick as a vault door; his hands were the size of dinner plates. Through the gaps in his expensive suit, one could see his skin was a map of history: knife scars, bullet holes, burn marks, and jagged fissures. It was the skin of a man who lived in the center of a storm.
In stark contrast to his brutalized body was his face.
His hair was meticulously styled in a clean 7/3 part. He wore decorative, rimless oval glasses. His eyes were long, narrow, and incredibly sharp, yet beneath the intensity, his features were strikingly handsome and refined.
He was clearly young.
But it was impossible to imagine him having a "normal" youth. For across that handsome face were two massive, jagged scars. One ran from his left forehead down to his right cheek; the other cut from his right temple, across his lips, to his left jaw. They met under his right eye in a violent "X."
His name was Kaoru Hanayama.
The man recognized across the entire Japanese underworld as the world's greatest "Brawl Genius."
"..."
The room remained in a stifling silence. Hanayama didn't speak immediately, but his presence was a roar that filled everyone's ears.
"It is... because of a friend's request."
Hanayama finally broke the tension. His voice was low and resonant. He casually brushed the dust off the arm Hina had kicked, then looked toward Hana Mitani.
"Tsukasa Jinwa, the Chairman of the Jinwa-gumi, has been a benefactor to the Hanayama family. He is my friend."
"He was also a sworn blood-brother to the previous patriarch of the Jinguji-gumi. Therefore, he looks upon his brother's daughter as his own flesh and blood."
"That is the reason."
"..."
Hana Mitani's mind was spinning.
She was stunned that the Kaoru Hanayama was speaking to her so patiently. But more than that, she was reeling from the revelation about her father.
"Wait... Dad was blood-brothers with a Chairman of a major syndicate? I never knew... I only remember 'Uncle Tsukasa' who used to bring me sweets when I was a kid..."
"Wait. Uncle Tsukasa is the Chairman of the Jinwa-gumi?!"
Hana's eyes were the size of saucers.
Hanayama continued, his tone a bit stiff. "Jinwa-san wishes for his friend's daughter to stay far away from the 'Undercurrent.' He asked the Hanayama-gumi to ensure your safety."
Hanayama's manner of speaking was slightly awkward. It made sense—he was only nineteen years old, yet he was being asked to "look after" a twenty-six-year-old woman like a stern uncle. The social dynamic was completely inverted.
But Tsukasa Jinwa was an eccentric man, and Hanayama valued "Chivalry" above all else. If his friend asked a favor, he would fulfill it with total sincerity.
Sensing the social awkwardness, Kizaki cleared his throat. "B-Boss... you weren't supposed to step in yet..."
"My apologies. I know we agreed you would handle the talking," Hanayama said, his clear eyes shifting to Ren Shiroki. "But if I hadn't stepped in... you would have been injured."
Kizaki's face flushed. "Boss, I—"
"Enough."
Hanayama cut him off, his gaze locking onto Ren.
"Your property in Toshima was once Zanshi-gumi land. It was recently transferred to the Hanayama family's jurisdiction. My men did a background check."
"If you want to open a Karate Dojo or a neighborhood school, we have no objection. But a hub for underground fighters is not permitted at this time."
Ren Shiroki didn't answer immediately. He was busy analyzing the giant in front of him. This was the first time he had faced a "Real Monster" in the flesh.
Kizaki, feeling ignored, snapped. "Kid! Did you hear the Boss?!"
"Kizaki," Hanayama sighed. "You can see these people aren't the type to buckle under a 'threat.' I decided it was better to be direct."
"Boss, that's not it—"
Kizaki stopped mid-sentence, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Hanayama's eyes had narrowed, a few red veins appearing in the whites of his eyes. The look was sharp enough to cut steel.
If Kizaki spoke one more word of protest, he knew he was going to get a lesson in discipline.
After a heartbeat, Kizaki sighed and bowed his head.
"It's not that, Boss. It's Chairman Jinwa! When he gave us the job, he specifically asked that we not tell Hana-chan that her 'Uncle Tsukasa' is a Yakuza Chairman. He said he'd be too embarrassed to see her if she knew!"
Kizaki rubbed his temples. "I was trying to intimidate them so they'd shut down without me having to reveal the Chairman's identity!"
Hanayama: "..."
Hanayama: "..."
Hanayama: "...I see."
Looking at his boss's blank expression, Kizaki covered his face. "Boss... you really are terrible at negotiations. That's why I said I should handle it..."
Since the secret was out, Kizaki didn't bother being subtle anymore.
"Bottom line: Pack it up. Go home. I'll apologize to the Chairman on your behalf. Just stay out of the spotlight."
"Wait," Nozomi Tenma interrupted.
She, Ichika, and Hana—the "Stray Dog Trio"—had finally found a path to the top. They weren't about to let it vanish because of a "Protective Uncle." They weren't little girls anymore; they were entrepreneurs in a world of wolves.
"Since we're technically 'Family' now," Nozomi said, trying to find an angle, "surely there's room for a negotiation?"
Kizaki's expression went flat. He transitioned from "Frustrated Assistant" back into "Professional Yakuza."
"We didn't come here to 'Negotiate.' We came here to 'Inform.'"
"A negotiation is built on a balance of 'Wealth' and 'Might.' You possess neither."
"Yakuza warfare isn't like a ring match. It's not clean."
Kizaki stepped forward. He didn't retract his knife; instead, he pressed the point firmly against Ren's abdomen. "For example... if I decide to push this blade in right now... Ren-kun, what would you do?"
"..."
Ren remained silent. Then, he suddenly fell flat on his back.
"!?"
Kizaki flinched, thinking he had somehow accidentally stabbed the youth. He checked his blade, but there was no blood.
"Wha—"
Before Kizaki could process the fall, Ren's palms slammed into the floor. Using the momentum, he vaulted into a handstand and launched into a high-speed spin.
CLACK!
Ren's foot caught Kizaki's wrist, sending the knife flying into the darkness.
Ren added a follow-up kick, the toe of his shoe stopping exactly one millimeter from Kizaki's nose. He could feel the wind from the strike ruffling his hair.
It was faster than Hina's kick earlier. Kizaki hadn't even seen it coming.
"...Haha!"
The silent Hanayama let out a short, genuine laugh. He looked much more relaxed now.
This was the "Domain" he understood.
"Kizaki!"
Hanayama gave the word. Kizaki snapped to attention, nodded, and sprinted out of the building to make arrangements.
"There is a quiet bar nearby. We can walk," Hanayama said, gesturing to the door with a massive thumb. "Let's go talk like men."
The Streets of Shinjuku.
The procession was a sight to behold. Ren and Hanayama led the way, followed by Kizaki and Nozomi. Behind them were Hana, Ichika, Yuzuha, and Hina.
Hanayama alone was enough to stop traffic, but the entire group was so "Loud" that pedestrians stepped into the gutter to let them pass.
Nozomi was visibly vibrating with tension, her brain working overtime to find a way to save Valkyrie. Kizaki, sensing her stress, tried to lighten the mood.
"Nozomi Tenma... right?"
Nozomi gave a stiff nod. "Yes."
Kizaki shrugged. "Honestly, I was being generous earlier. Why didn't you just say yes? It would have been easier for everyone."
Nozomi gave a dry laugh. "Between us and Ren-kun... we aren't the type to just 'roll over' when things get difficult."
"I see," Kizaki sighed. "I'm not sure if you're brave or just stupid. Probably both. But stay on your guard. If you keep pushing, people will get hurt. People might even die."
Nozomi blinked. "Hurt? Die? Because of the Chairman?"
Kizaki grinned, a flash of pride in his eyes. "Because the Boss is... different."
Nozomi was about to ask what that meant when two vehicles screeched around the corner ahead of them.
A customized off-road Jeep and a black Cadillac.
The cars braked hard, blocking the narrow street. A dozen Yakuza enforcers armed with pipes and knives piled out of the vehicles. These weren't punks; they were professional hitters from a rival family.
Nozomi's heart skipped a beat. "These guys..."
"Don't worry about it," Kizaki said, patting her shoulder. "This kind of thing happens every other Tuesday. Just a little street brawl to pass the time."