Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 237: Sakura and Red Lotus (6)

Dragon Raja 3

“I still think he looks like Tsumabuki Satoshi playing Naoe Kanetsugu!” said a salaryman, tapping a cigarette out of its box.

“Middle-aged uncles who watch Taiga dramas【NHK’s historical TV dramas, aimed mostly at an older audience】 shouldn’t butt in on anime discussions!” the girls teased, and the salaryman chuckled.

Though the street was lined with neon signs and bars, as the young man strolled by, the air seemed to fill with a sense of the samurai era. The early cherry blossoms had reached full bloom, and petals rained down like a storm. The young man appeared ghostly and fleeting, as if he were from another time.

“Excuse me, can we take a picture together?” a bold girl approached, camera in hand, and bowed.

“Of course. I am merely the second son of the Gen family, traveling from Ueno to Edo to broaden my horizons. I thank you for your kindness and ask for your future support,” the young man responded, bowing slightly with his hand on the hilt of his katana.

The crowd clapped. His speech was antiquated, fitting his costume so well that it felt more like a real persona than a cosplay. The girl blushed and smiled, feeling like a young maiden from centuries past, encountering a dashing samurai on the streets and mustering the courage to speak to him. Standing beneath a fully bloomed cherry tree, the young man wore a gentle smile as each girl approached for a photo. Even the women of Kabukicho, no longer teenagers, felt a sense of innocent giddiness, mimicking traditional maiden-like poses with hands folded delicately. The young man obliged everyone, and when a salaryman joined for a photo, they both stood with their hands on their hips like spirited warriors venturing into Edo together.

“Hello, hello!” A man squeezed through the crowd, handing over a business card. “I’m Akakura from a talent agency. We represent many cosplayers and recommend them for major conventions and even roles in films. Please, you must contact us!”

“I’m not a cosplayer,” the young man said with a smile, returning the card. “I’m just a regular person out for a stroll. I come to Tokyo every year when the cherry blossoms bloom,” he said, looking up at the brightly lit skyscrapers. “And to catch a glimpse of my high-and-mighty brother.”

A sleek black Maybach rolled up to the curb, and the driver stepped out to open the rear door.

“The car’s here to pick me up. Until we meet again.” The young man bowed to the crowd, and the driver, dressed in a black uniform, also bowed before returning to the car.

As the luxury car, worth millions, glided into the misty night, the girls lingered, reluctant to leave. None had expected such a nobleman to casually roam the night, initially assuming he had dressed this way to attract attention.

“You’ve got girls falling for you wherever you go,” said a voice from the backseat of the car, the speaker puffing on a cigarette.

The figure in the shadows wore a Noh mask, pale and eerie, but upon closer inspection, it was clear that the pallor was makeup. The mask depicted an aristocrat’s smiling face, with black-rimmed eyes, crimson lips, and blackened teeth【In ancient Japan, aristocrats would powder their faces and blacken their teeth to show their noble status】.

“With the Yamata no Orochi hunting us down, you still decided to contact me?” the young man said coldly.

“Tonight, your brother burned down the Elysium Hall, and the Osaka Police Department barely made an effort to put out the fire,” said the masked figure, who was none other than Osho. “From everyone’s perspective, the Oni Clan has lost this war. There’s no point in staying alive as a loser. The Yamata no Orochi are ready to root us out entirely.”

“After spending more than a decade seizing territory, we lost it all to them in just a few days. The gangs that pledged allegiance to us have all betrayed us. And yet, you seem oddly calm,” the young man said.

“What’s the point of clinging on? The Yamata no Orochi are the emperors of the underworld; we’re just rebels. Those gangs were never truly loyal to us, more like bad investments. But they served their purpose during our rise. The Elysium Hall alone brought us billions in cash. Consider it food we’ve already consumed. As long as you and I are still alive, that’s all that matters,” Osho said.

“Food, huh? How many people died in this war? Are their corpses food for you too? You have quite the taste, Osho.”

“Yes, food. The world is cruel. We’re all ghouls in a way—eating others and being eaten in return. Even the Yamata no Orochi aren’t exempt. They survive by sucking the lifeblood out of the gangs that pay tribute to them. And where do those gangs get their money? From theft, extortion, prostitution, and protection fees. The Yamata no Orochi claim they don’t dirty their hands with the drug trade, but the gangs pushing those drugs stack up their dirty money and respectfully hand it over to them. Do they refuse?” Osho chuckled. “Their shadow clings to prostitutes, addicts, and small business owners, silently draining their blood. That’s how the world works—the strong feed on the weak. The lowly sacrifice their flesh and blood to the powerful. If you don’t want to be eaten, you have to devour someone else first.”

“Do you really have to make everything sound so disgusting to feel better?” the young man asked, his tone sharp.

“If you don’t like it, let’s talk about something else,” Osho replied smoothly. “Hilbert Ron Anjou has already arrived in Japan. The tension between the College and the Yamata no Orochi is at its peak. A conflict is inevitable.”

“Anjou’s priority must be locating Caesar’s group, right? After all, they hold firsthand information about Takamagahara. Any updates on them?”

“They’re still searching. Those boys make me uneasy.”

“Uneasy? They’re just ants that wandered onto the battlefield, helplessly crawling amidst the cannon fire,” the young man said dismissively.

“Ants, you say? Ants that survived the God’s Tomb, a place that buries all living things, and returned alive? At a depth of over 8,000 meters, with their submersible severely damaged, their chances of survival were calculated at less than 1%. Yet, they all made it back unscathed. If you attribute that to luck, it’s unsettlingly good luck. This trio has even killed two Dragon Kings, repeatedly pulling the world back from the brink of disaster. They advance with a force that slays gods and Buddhas alike, as if Fate itself is guiding and protecting them. Doesn’t that make you uneasy?” Osho murmured softly.

“We’ve already decided to defy the gods. If Fate truly exists, we’ll behead it as well!” the young man coldly replied. “Tell Kogure to come to Tokyo and find me.”

Osho paused for a moment. “If you’re just looking for a masseuse, I can recommend someone else.”

“What do you mean?” the young man frowned.

“The fire department found Ryoma’s body at the scene. She fought Chisei during the fall of Elysium Hall. But with her bloodline, it was like a mortal fighting the heavens, even using a Molotov cocktail would’ve been useless. Her opponent was none other than Amaterasu,” Osho explained.