Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 202: Boy in the Thorns (5)

Dragon Raja 3

Chisei was startled.

It was true. He didn’t have any tattoos, which was rare in the underworld. According to rank and merit, family leaders would bestow tattoos upon their members—high-ranking tattoos of gods, demons, and dragons, while those lower-ranked might receive cranes, cherry blossoms, koi fish, or samurai. Street thugs often got tattoos of naked women, angels, and skulls, but such tattoos were not considered worthy within the underworld. Status-marking tattoos were given by family heads, according to tradition. Despite his rank, Tachibana had never granted Chisei the honor of a tattoo. Instead, Masamune’s rewards were often “Let’s have dinner together tonight,” or “How about a weekend trip to the swordsmith society?” It felt more like taking a child to an amusement park than bestowing an honor.

“Tattoos are not just honors but also marks of the underworld,” Tachibana said slowly. “People with tattoos are never accepted in ordinary society, so underworld people only associate with others in the underworld.”

“Like the curse of blood?”

“Exactly. Like the curse of blood, keeping kindred spirits together. When a family head grants a tattoo, they are also giving a chain, binding them to the underworld for life. Even if they try to leave, they’ll never be able to cut off all ties. Even if they run to the ends of the earth, their enemies may still find them. The underworld is a path of no return; once you pick up the sword, you can only keep fighting forward. The day you let go of the hilt is the day you die,” Masamune said, glancing at Chisei. “But I hope that when you leave, you can leave clean.”

Chisei froze.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of keeping you in Japan for my sake. After this is over, I’ll take back the position of family head, and you can go to France,” Masamune said, downing his cup of sake. “Chisei, do this one last thing for the family. You are the emperor; your bloodline flows with the blood of our ancestors, and your resolve will awaken the fighting spirit in all of us. We’ve been silent for too long. Since World War II, we’ve become subordinates of the European hybrids, and the Oni Clan has been constantly encroaching on our territory. We’ve retreated again and again, but no more. The Yamata no Orochi was once the greatest family in the world, but now we are like a snake pinned at the vital spot. We need a great war to break free of the Secret Party, purge the traitors, and kill the gods! I hope that in my lifetime, this family will rise again!” Masamune’s eyes blazed like a burning torch as he stared into Chisei’s.

Chisei raised an eyebrow. “Is that… a request?”

“Consider it a request. This is our final battle. Fight alongside me, and we’ll light up this era. When our time ends, you can go to France, and I’ll wait for death in Japan. One day, you’ll have a beautiful wife and children, and I’ll bless you, though I won’t attend your wedding.”

“Father, saying things like that, you still don’t understand me,” Chisei lit a cigarette. “I have no interest in lighting up this era, and I don’t even know if what you’re doing is right. I’ve always supported you because I believe in you, not because I care whether it’s right or wrong.”

Masamune remained silent for a long time. “You just don’t want me to be too lonely, do you? If the master insists, the student has no choice but to obey unconditionally. That’s the way it is in Japan.”

“I’ve never really considered you my master. As a teacher, you’re not as good as Anjou.”

Masamune smiled bitterly. “It seems everyone thinks Anjou is so wonderful… Well, then I can give up. I, with my mediocre talents, shouldn’t compare myself to a recognized hero.”

“But it doesn’t matter, haha, Chisei. You don’t need to comfort me,” Masamune scratched his head, laughing heartily. “It’s only natural that Anjou is better than me, but I’m still proud that I’ve raised such an outstanding leader in you.”

“I…”

“If there’s nothing more, I’ll be heading out. I’m planning to visit the swordsmith society again tonight.”

“Even at a time like this, you’re in the mood to forge swords?”

“I want to forge a sword to give you, as a gift for becoming the new family head.”

The glass was empty, but Chisei still stood by the window.

A black sedan was parked downstairs, with a dozen men in black lining up in front of it. Tachibana sat inside the car, giving instructions through the window to each one of them. He was the type of person who insisted on personally handling things, ensuring that everything was in place before heading out, worried that things might fall apart in his absence.

It was often said that Tachibana could be counted among “the ten unluckiest heads of the family in history,” and he might even be in the top three. Previous family heads were supreme leaders of the underworld, where the yakuza would flock to greet them like nations paying tribute to a newly crowned emperor. Their mere words would shake the criminal world, and the slightest frown could send someone into sleepless anxiety. A single outburst could mean heads would roll. But during Tachibana’s tenure, the family had already become a vassal of the Secret Party, and the reverence that the yakuza once had for the main family had diminished. Tachibana cautiously managed the family, often working late into the night. He was unusually kind to yakuza, politicians, and corporate heads, earning a reputation as the most gentle leader in the history of the Yamata no Orochi. Through his charm, he regained the yakuza’s respect for the main family. However, the sudden rise of the Oni Clan had torn away large parts of their territory, leaving Tachibana struggling to keep up.

He had spent his entire life dreaming of the family’s resurgence, but lacked the grand strategy of a great leader. Instead, he compensated by being diligent. The fact that he managed to stay in power for ten years was nothing short of a miracle.

Chisei vividly remembered their dinner at the restaurant RyuGin, the first time he had visited such a luxurious establishment. Everything, from the decor to the dishes, was so new to him that he impulsively declared that he would make a name for himself in Tokyo. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted it. But Tachibana hadn’t laughed at the boy’s arrogance. He had simply smiled warmly and said, “That’s wonderful. Then, I’ll work hard with you, Chisei.”

“When I become famous, Father, you’ll be even more famous than me,” Chisei had said back then.

“That’s not necessarily true. When a child is young, his father carries him on his shoulders. But when the child grows up, the father is in a wheelchair, relying on the child to push him. Young people will always surpass us older generations—that’s how families grow stronger,” Masamune had replied with a gentle laugh.

“You don’t really count as a teacher to me,” Chisei said, raising his empty glass in a toast to the car where Tachibana sat. “You’re like a father.”

A white gull soared past the crystal-like buildings, its anxious reflection mirrored in the glass. The downdrafts of the city threatened to pull it toward the ground, but it flapped its wings harder, trying to ascend.

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