by Unknown
“It was you,” said Date.
“What are you talking about?” said the man. The man looked about the same age as Date, but there was a world of difference between their physiques.
[152]
“What did you say just now?”
“You mean the fixed matches?” said the man, his voice trembling slightly, “All I did was tell the truth.” All the man could think about is whether or not Date would lash out of him in the bar of a hotel with all these people watching. There were women present as well. A wrestler would get temporarily banned from matches if they were found attacking members of the public.
Without saying a word, Date moved in front of their table.
“Sir!” the bartender called out.
“It's nothing,” said Date. He held his forehead in his left hand. He held the shard of glass that he had pulled from his right hand a moment ago. He pushed the shard of glass into his forehead, around where his hairline ended. He had a lot of power built up in that hand. A small sound echoed through the silence that had returned to the table. There were tearing and scraping sounds. Date had stabbed the shard of glass into his forehead and pulled it downwards. The redness in the man's face began to turn pale.
The woman gasped. A deep red line in Date's face grew bigger as he pulled the glass downward. Date put his face right in front of the man at the table. The red line had flowed down the side of his nose and into his lips.
[153]
Before the red could build up around his lips, Date's huge pink tongue crawled out of his mouth and mopped up the excess blood. The woman let out a cry and rose to her feet. The man tried to stand up as well but his knees struck the underside of the table. The glass of wine sitting on the table got knocked over and the red wine stained the table cloth a deep red.
“Y-You...” The calmness of the man had been completely torn away. He stood up and pointed with his wine-stained, trembling finger. Date spoke before the bartender, who had come out from behind the counter, had a chance to open his mouth.
“It's nothing,” said Date with a deathly piercing voice, “I'm the one who's hurt. These two are fans of mine, I came over to say hello, but when I touched my face the glass from the cup was still lodged in my finger. I think I shocked my fans a little bit. It's my fault, really,” he said, looking at the man with a smirk. The man nodded earnestly.
“You'd better clean all of this up,” said Date as he dropped his blood splattered cup into the bartenders hands, turned back towards Bunshichi and smiled with a mouth of crimson. “Where can I wash up?” asked Date. The bartender pointed to the far side of the bar.
“We don't have anything more to talk about. So just disappear before I get back,” said Date looking in Bunshichi's direction. The muscles in Dates body had swelled even more than before. It seemed they had swelled along with the bleeding. His voice had become calm.
Just as Date had disappeared towards the washroom, a voice came from the entrance of the bar.
“Bro!”
[154]
The patrons of the bar looked over with piercing eyes as Kubo Ryoji entered the room. Ryoji thought the types of people who come to bars like this one to be nothing other than mortal enemies. It seems that Ryoji, in a pair of jeans, stuck out even more than Bunshichi. Even if he wasn't young, a weaker willed person would have been pushed out of the bar by it's atmosphere alone. Facing the atmosphere, there came a feeling like someone wanted to kill you which ran right through the body.
“Bro, I finally found you.” Ryoji stood next to Bunshichi at the bar and spoke in a low voice.
“What's happened?”
“There are some guys looking for you in the lobby.”
“What?”
“Just like I said, they are waiting in the lobby. There were just two of them. Strange guys. They asked me about you.”
“What did they ask?”
“They asked where you were. I had to answer them, but I told them I didn't know where you were.”
“What kind of men where they?”
“They were Karate fighters. They had Karate blisters all over their hands. They looked like two rabid dogs.”
“Karate fighters, huh.”
“They are out to get someone, I got really bad feeling about them. Do you know anyone like that?”
“Too many to count.”
“I pretended that I need to go to the toilet. I think I lost them.”
“I wonder,” said Bunshichi.
“You wonder? What are you talking about?”
[155]
Bunshichi's line of sight was set squarely behind Ryoji.
“If those guys over there are the Karate fighters you were talking about, then you didn't lose them, rather you led them right to me.”
Ryoji's eyes swung upwards. He looked behind himself. There were three men standing at the doorway.
“It's them.” Ryoji felt a burning sensation from deep within himself.
“So there were three of them.”
“Damn it,” spat Ryoji.
Two of them had threatened Ryoji, but Ryoji hadn't seen the third one. They had tailed him. They had that intention when they first called out to Ryoji. It looked like Ryoji had accepted it. The trio slowly made their way over to Bunshichi. You could see their muscles rippling beneath their shirts and trousers as they walked.
The three men stood around Bunshichi, as if he were wrapped up by them. They weren't too close, nor were they far away. They were far away enough that Bunshichi wouldn't be able to punch or kick them, but also close enough that Bunshichi wouldn't be able to make a break for it.
“Bunshichi Tanba, right?” Said one of the men. Bunshichi nodded. All the eyes in the bar were on Bunshichi and the three men. The man and woman from before, who had been sitting at the table, were gone. There was a strange air that focused itself around Bunshichi.
“Please, you are disturbing the other customers...” said the bartender.
“We'll be leaving soon,” said Bunshichi.
[156]
A pair of eyes glared down at Bunshichi.
“What?” asked a throaty voice. Date had returned from the washrooms. He stood behind the three men. He had a blood soaked handkerchief wrapped around his right hand and a piece of cloth the same color as his shirt wrapped around his forehead. The sleeve of his shirt no longer poked out from under the right hand sleeve of his blazer.
“They're with me, please don't worry about it.”
“Really?” said Date as he sat back down in his seat.
“Could we please speak with you outside?” said one of the men.
“Before we do that, why don't you tell me who you are.” One of the men opened his mouth after hesitating for just a moment.
“We're from the Hokushinkan. I'm Matsumoto,” he said.
“Ikami.”
“Gotou,” the three men gave their names.
“The Hokushinkan?”
“Kawaguchi from Fukuoka, and you must have also faced off against Mr. Izumi in Nara.
“I certainly did,” answered Bunshichi in a low voice. The three men suddenly became stiff, tensed up.
“This time I want you to take on the challenge of the three of us,” said Matsumoto, his voice was hard as stone.
“Challenge?”
“That's right.”
“Right now?”
“There is a park quite near here.”
“Alright.” Bunshichi stood up.
[157]
“Hey!” Date called out after Bunshichi. He looked back towards the counter, the glass was still turned over.
“You'd better pay for the booze you drank...”
Bunshichi pulled a crisp 5 thousand yen note from his pocket and casually placed it down on the counter.
“Let's go.” Matsumoto, Ikami and Gotou all followed after Bunshichi as he walked towards the door.
CHAPTER V
It was a quiet park surrounded by trees. So quiet you wouldn't think there there is a road carryin
g a constant stream of cars nearby.
Towering skyscrapers stood behind the branches of cherry blossom trees. Bunshichi was standing in the dirt. He had taken off his jacket.
His muscles were wrapped up with the cloth of his t-shirt. His legs were like tree trunks and pulled at the denim of his jeans. They weren't made for someone who needed to lift their legs high or give their joints a free range of movement. He had on a pair of leather work shoes. The three men standing in front of him weren't as muscly as Bunshichi, but they had fearless looks on their faces. They had builds not unlike frightening gangsters. Frightening may be frightening, but that was a part of the Yakuza. However there was also a certain something that put them apart from regular people. It wasn't like they had tempered and conditioned their bodies, more like their physique was something they were born with.
[158]
They gave off the same kind of tension as seeing a weapon which is made to kill people. There was a single street light that illuminated Bunshichi and the three men in the darkness. The three men would have been around three of four years younger than Bunshichi, in their late twenties. Matsumoto looked the strongest.
It was early spring but the evening air was still cold. Ryoji was standing a little off to the side. He was wearing a leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up. The sounds of cars tooting heir horns and engines humming drifted into the park. Those kinds of sounds were to be expected, but they sounded so far away that they didn't even seem real.
They hadn't closed in on each other close enough to make a punch or a kick. A few more steps would have to be taken for that to happen.
“Three on one, huh?” said Bunshichi. It didn't particularly look as if Bunshichi was worried about a three on one match. He was just standing there wondering who he would take on first. Bunshichi was standing there with his legs casually ajar, his body seemed very stable. He lightly moved his elbows around and put more tension into his body. It was a fighting stance without being a fighting stance. The tension the could be felt coming off of Bunshichi which made it look like he had taken a fighting stance.
“Who's first?” asked Matsumoto.
“Any one of you,” said Bunshichi. Matsumoto grinned.
“Well then, how about we go three on one then.” The three had given their names and Bunshichi had accepted their challenge. That's what Bunshichi had done. It was unexpected, but seemed to be unraveling into a typical match. Bunshichi wouldn't mind taking on all three if need be.
[159]
Even if they all came at him at once, that would still be within the rules of the fight. The three of them showed their worth when they agreed to fight as part of the Hokushinkan, which teaches full contact Karate. Winning would be a true virtue. It would be real underground Karate.
That's the way that Matsumoto would want to do it.
“That's dirty,” mumbled Ryoji.
“Alright, but then I won't go easy on you,” said Bunshichi. He looked at Matsumoto to the right, Ikami in the middle and Gotou on the left. Even if they weren't the head of their respective classes, they looked like they could be strong enough to do so. They also weren't the type of Karate fighters who pulled their punches. From paired karate-kata to hitting the body. The two or three centimeters that the non-contact karate fighter stopped at wouldn't be enough for full contact karate. You could use it in amateur Karate, but if your opponent was an experienced fighter, one centimeter could mean the difference between a victory and a loss.
Not only strength, but fear also allowed to you make steps forward. But the person standing in front of Bunshichi was not that kind of opponent. Matsumoto and Gotou suddenly moved out to the side, leaving Ikami in the middle. That's when it happened. Bunshichi moved to the right like a black gust of wind. The closed in on Matsumoto by a few steps. His movement was a surprise to his opponents that were neither ready to take or make an attack. The moment you make a singe move it is too late to make a separate move. It takes a certain amount of time. And in that time they came even closer to Bunshichi.
[160]
When they did, Bunshichi's fist went flying straight into Matsumoto's face. Matsumoto went flying backwards without making a sound. He fell face down with his mouth still open, and his eyes still open, knocked out cold.
Matsumoto had tried to get a kick in before he got hit, but his poor timing and lack of balance meant that there was no need to try and block it. The feeling of smashed muscle and cracked bone ran through Bunshichi's hand. If a Karate fighter had kept his distance and faced the enemy, the fist attack would be a kick, not a punch. The leg has a better reach and can hit an opponent from further away than the arm. They almost never get a punch as the first attack. That's why Bunshichi decided to use his fists.
“Guuh...”
Bunshichi turned to Ikami, who had gotten ready to join the fight, bent his body over and let his leg fly. Bunshichi did this almost at the same time as he punched Matsumoto, as if it were a single move. Bunshichi's leg, with all his weight behind it, sunk itself into Ikami's mid-section. His foot had the power to split Ikami's abdomen apart. Ikami's legs flew up in the air as he flew backwards. Bunshichi tightened his arm movements, clenched his fists and turned to face Gotou. That was enough to stop Gotou in his tracks.
A thick crimson began to form in Matsumoto's mouth. Blood from his nose was running down both sides of his face and form a pool on the ground. Ikami was on the ground, making some kind of noise, almost like he was saying a prayer. The contents of his stomach was coming out of his mouth.
[161]
A sour smell filled the night air. Gotou didn't move. He had turned pale.
“Why are you coming after me?” Asked Bunshichi. Gotou didn't answer. Bunshichi suddenly remember the long hair man who had been with him when he fought Souichiro. Himekawa for the Hokushinkan. Izumi had introduced him.
“Did someone tell you something?”
“No,” said Gotou as he moved back slowly so as to get out of the line of fire. Bunshichi moved towards him as he moved back. He wasn't getting any further away.
“We were just looking for you. And when we found you, we were supposed to report back to the head office.” Then without any warning, they had planned to sort it out all by themselves. Beads of sweat had formed on Gotou's brow. Still in a fighting stance, Bunshichi moved back from Gotou.
“We should probably call it quits, huh?” said Bunshichi, “I can't go and do over the only guy who can look after these two, or else I'll have to call the ambulance myself.” Bunshichi continued to put more distance between them and relaxed from his fighting stance. Gotou felt all the power drain from his body. Bunshichi hadn't even broken a sweat.
“Let's go,” he yelled over to Ryoji.
“That was awesome!” Ryoji finally answered back, “You totally wasted the Hokushinkan!” he went on, too excited to conceal his voice. Bunshichi turned his back on him and began making his way over to the entrance of the park.
“Wait! Hey bro, wait for me!”
[162]
Ryoji followed after Bunshichi. From the shadows cast by the cherry bloom tree's branches above, an even bigger shadow emerged right in front of Bunshichi.
“That was really something,” said the shadow. It had cloth wrapped around its head. Standing right before him was the same man he had talked to in the bar, Date.
“You were watching?” said Bunshichi, stopping to look at Date.
“Yeah, I took a peek.”
“But it had nothing to do with you?” said Bunshichi. Date turned his head a fraction to the side before he answered.
“I heard it was about the Hokushinkan”
“Hokushinkan?”
“Yeah, it seems as if you've made an enemy of them.”
“They're not my enemy.”
“Yeah, but they don't think so.”
“...”
“Taking those guys on one by one with Matsumoto being the last opponent would have made things a little harder,” said Date with a wry grin, “T
aking them all on at once, letting them think they have the upper hand before smashing them, you've got balls, that's for sure.”
“You guys are the ones with the monopoly on hitting before the bell,” Said Bunshichi. Date let out a laugh.
“You're funny, you know that?”
“No, that's first time I've been called funny.”
“I like guys like you.”
“Do you now?”
“I just want to ask you one thing?”
“...”
“Why do you wan to fight Kajiwara? Is it the money? You think you'll sell out a stadium if you beat him?
[163]
“Nope.”
“Nope?”
“I just want to fight him.”
“Yeah, but why?”
“I lost once to Kajiwara. He grappled me and made me scream. I can still hear the sound I made.” A dark flame smoldered in Bunshichi's eyes as he spoke.
“Vendetta?”
“You could call it that.”
“You're a strange one.”
“I just have a simple motive.”
“I fight for money. I got into Sumo wrestling to feed myself, keep my gut full. I got into pro-wrestling because I wanted money.”
“I heard you were a top-tier wrestler.”
“Yeah, but you're the type who would become a wrestler if there was money in it or not,” said Date as he glanced at Bunshichi.
“...”
“And so is Kajiwara. Maybe even more so than you.”
“Kajiwara?”
“Yeah, like you, he can't stand the existence of anyone stronger than himself. In that kind of was, he's even more intense than you.”
