Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 287: The Last Emperor & The Last KGB Officer (2)

Dragon Raja 3

“Once, I was the supreme. Now I’m just a ramen chef. They spent sixty years in the underworld, and I’ve spent sixty years making ramen. What’s the comparison?” Uesugi Koeru grumbled, “There aren’t any women here. Want to watch an AV disc?”

He pointed to the 14-inch small color TV above the soup pot and then to the old DVDs on the shelf. One of them showed a woman in a robe that had slipped down to her waist, hugging her chest tightly, cleavage fully visible. It seemed to be his little entertainment when there were no customers.

“Maria Ozawa? That’s so old-school! Even I know she’s outdated,” Anjou remarked.

“An outdated underworld king watching an outdated AV actress, isn’t it a perfect match?” Uesugi Koeru sighed. “You really found me, didn’t you?”

“This place hasn’t changed much. No one in the Japanese underworld would have thought that sixty years ago, you liked hanging out on this street. Sixty years later, you’re still here, just as a ramen chef.” Anjou lifted the curtain and looked at the rainy street.

A few steps beyond the small street were brightly lit skyscrapers, but this street still looked like it did after World War II. The road was lined with old-style houses, with sycamores and cherry trees in front, giving a peaceful yet desolate atmosphere.

“I’m a man abandoned by the times. I should live in a shabby old place like this. Unlike you, still dashing.” Uesugi Koeru added an extra piece of pork to the ramen and placed it in front of Anjou.

“Actually, it’s not that no one knows you’re still alive. Katsu knew, but he never bothered you, right? He sent me to find you, and I had to work for it. A real estate company took several days to find the deed archive for this street, telling me the ownership hasn’t changed in over sixty years. The landowner is Uesugi Koeru, who has been delinquent on property taxes for decades.” Anjou scooped up some of the milky white broth. “The only reason it hasn’t been confiscated by the government is that Katsu secretly paid your back taxes. Otherwise, you wouldn’t even have the right to sell ramen here.”

“Who asked him to meddle in my affairs,” Uesugi Koeru frowned. “It’s not even about the land. I could still push my cart and sell ramen anywhere.”

“This street is worth 1.2 billion dollars. A corporation once offered 1.2 billion to buy this land for development, but they couldn’t find the landowner. You’re selling ramen on land worth 1.2 billion dollars. Don’t pretend to be poor.”

“I’m truly dirt poor, living off selling ramen all these years. The only valuable thing I have left is this land, but if I sell it, it’ll turn into skyscrapers. These old houses will be torn down, the ancient trees will be uprooted, and old things like me won’t have a place to stay anymore.” Uesugi Koeru said as he casually tidied up the table. Decades of making ramen had turned this former big shot into a meticulous chef and handyman. “Since it was Inuyama who leaked this information to you, why didn’t he come with you?”

“Aga’s dead. His funeral was three days ago. He was riddled with dozens, maybe hundreds, of bullets. They say when he was cremated, two pounds of bullets were left behind.” Anjou said matter-of-factly.

Uesugi Koeru paused for a second as he wiped the table, then continued scrubbing vigorously. “Why did you come to find me? I’m of no use to you. People like me are just relics of an old era.”

“A new era doesn’t need an emperor, does it?” Anjou said slowly.

“Exactly. Emperors should’ve died back in 1945,” said Uesugi Yue, the once undisputed emperor of Japan’s underworld, with a shadow flickering in his eyes.

At the mural hall in Chisei’s industrial headquarters, the scene was grim. The fire had been cleared, and the blood had dried, baked by the flames. Bronze skeletons of Death Servitors lay scattered, while the burnt bodies of Execution Bureau officers had also turned to blackened bones. Chisei shook out white cloths and covered each of them respectfully.

“Mr. Masamune has arrived,” Crow quickly approached Chisei from behind, speaking in a low voice.

“Leave us. I need to talk to him alone,” Chisei replied without turning his head.

“We’ll stand guard outside,” Crow said, bowing. He exchanged a glance with Sakura and Yasha, signaling for everyone to leave the mural hall.

The eternal lamp was lit again, casting a faint glow around Chisei and Tachibana. The vast room was filled with corpses, walls blackened by soot, and fragments of murals showed gods and demons dancing in the flickering firelight. The atmosphere was solemn and eerie.

“Father, isn’t it time you told me the truth?” Chisei sat among the bronze skeletons.

“You’ve suspected me for a while now, haven’t you?” Tachibana chuckled softly.

“I wouldn’t say I suspected you, but I knew there were things you hadn’t told me. I’ve already been to see your underground research facility and that giant water reservoir. It’s very advanced—something one could never forget after seeing it. But I didn’t want to talk there, so I asked you to come to the mural hall,” Chisei said, lighting a cigarette and turning around.

He froze for a moment. Tachibana’s attire was completely different from usual. Normally, Tachibana preferred wearing traditional kimono, with a plain striped undergarment, and when it was cold, he would put on a black haori, embodying the image of a traditional Japanese elder. But now, he was dressed in a brown military uniform, with the rank of major on his shoulder and knee-high leather boots. The uniform was old, clearly from an earlier era, but it still looked sharp on him. An unmistakable badge adorned the sleeve—a sword, a shield, and a red five-pointed star, with the inscription “КГБ.” These three Russian letters represented a once world-famous secret service—the Soviet KGB.

“You’re a KGB member?” Chisei asked.

“I was,” Tachibana replied as he spread a white cloth on the ground, knelt down with a straight back, and pulled out a small ceremonial dagger, laying it horizontally in front of him. He then tossed a long-sheathed white katana to Chisei.

“Do you want me to act as your kaishakunin?” Chisei asked, catching the sword.

Many people, including the Japanese, believe that a seppuku (ritual suicide) should be performed with a tantō (a short blade), but the tantō was primarily used for close combat, to pierce armor on the battlefield. Nobles, however, performed seppuku with an elegant tool known as the kaiken, a straight, slender blade made specifically for ending the life of its owner. Before the Meiji Restoration, a piece of white cloth, a kaiken, and a kaishakunin (the one who beheads) were all that was needed for the ceremony. The kaishakunin would stand behind the one committing seppuku, and as the person plunged the dagger into their abdomen, the kaishakunin would sever their head with a single stroke, reducing their suffering. A skilled kaishakunin would leave a bit of skin connecting the head to the body, allowing the person to die in a kneeling posture, considered a dignified death.

Tachibana had clearly come prepared for seppuku.

“I’ve often thought that if I ever had to commit seppuku to atone for my past sins, I’d want you to be my kaishakunin,” Tachibana said.

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