Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 215: Boy in the Thorns (18)

Dragon Raja 3

Anjou was his teacher—a fact Inuyama had long been reluctant to acknowledge. Without Anjou’s support, the Inuyama family could never have risen again, and he wouldn’t have become the first head of Japan’s branch of the Secret Party. Anjou had given him power, but at the same time, he ruthlessly trampled on his dignity. During the three years of intense training, Anjou constantly mocked him, using the sharpest words. Inuyama was nothing more than a sparring partner—a sparring partner’s job was to be knocked down again and again. He didn’t dare to resist, for he was too weak in front of Anjou. Everything he had was given to him by Anjou; he was the puppet Anjou used to control the Yamata no Orochi. To this day, some people still called him a traitor to his family, Anjou’s lapdog, and Inuyama never denied it, because it was true.

But who could he share this pain with? Every time Anjou stepped on his head and sneered, Inuyama would think of those women with pale legs, their kimonos being torn apart by brutish American soldiers. They endured it all silently, like lifeless pieces of dried-up flesh.

“I don’t despise gangsters; I only despise useless trash! You want dignity? Fine! Defeat me, and you’ll have it!” The Anjou of his memories would mock him coldly in his ear.

Is that right, teacher? Defeat you and I’ll have dignity? Teacher, did you know… the rise I hoped for was so that every person in my family could live with dignity…? We rose, but we lost our dignity forever… Is that right, teacher? Defeat you and I’ll have dignity?

Ninth-tier Satsuna—512 times godlike speed slash!

From the depths of his soul, the 18-year-old version of Inuyama roared like an enraged lion, and Onimaru Kunitsuna left its scabbard, tracing an arc as graceful as a girl’s eyebrow. The blade bent due to its speed, reaching the verge of breaking, this legendary sword designed to slay Oni.

There had never been a sword so fast, nor killing intent so poetic, lonely enough to cut through time itself.

The ultimate Iai!

In that moment, Onimaru Kunitsuna finally broke through the sound barrier, and the sonic boom swept across the entire dance floor. The high-frequency vibrations in the air moved faster than the sword itself, cutting through Anjou’s shoulder, sending a spray of blood like reeds blown in the wind.

A brief flicker of satisfaction appeared in Anjou’s eyes… then he twisted his grip on Nagasa Kotetsu, turning the blade so the back of the sword faced forward. The flat of the blade struck Inuyama across the face, sending him flying.

“バカ,” Anjou cursed lightly.

Although he had spent three years in Japan, he had only learned a few Japanese phrases, most of which were insults. This had often left Inuyama wondering what kind of atmosphere permeated the American headquarters.

“Was my speed even close to yours?” Inuyama asked hoarsely, struggling to stand. Anjou’s strike had been brutally fierce, leaving him with a mild concussion. Despite the resilience of a Hybrid’s body, age was catching up to him.

“I don’t know, but you managed to injure me, which means you’ve grown.”

“I’m almost dead from old age, and you think I’ve only just grown up now?” Inuyama laughed through his labored breathing. He waved off Ryoma Genichirō and Miyamoto Shio as they approached. “Don’t come closer. Apologize to Tachibana on my behalf—this is a personal grudge between me and the Principal.”

“Bring a chair over, and fetch me that cigar I left on the third floor,” Anjou ordered one of the girls standing by the dance floor.

Kotonou, too afraid to disobey, complied. The fate of the family head was in Anjou’s hands. The girls brought over an extravagant high-back chair and placed it in the center of the dance floor. Kotonou held out a tray with an ashtray and Anjou’s still-lit cigar.

Anjou picked up the cigar, took a deep drag, and said, “Lay your family head on the chair. He probably has a concussion.”

The girls were startled but followed his orders. Inuyama slumped onto the chair, his limbs feeling like they no longer belonged to him.

“Bring another chair over. We can finally sit down and have a proper chat,” Anjou said again. “And get me a martini, shaken, not stirred, with ice.”

Anjou sat opposite Inuyama, playing with his folding knife in one hand and holding a martini in the other. Inuyama opened his swollen eyes and saw that Anjou had only broken a sweat, with nothing more than a small wound on his shoulder, looking as if he’d just finished a cardio workout.

“I know you never wanted to admit I was your teacher,” Anjou said.

“Calling me your dog would be more accurate, wouldn’t it? A dog never wants to admit it was kicked by its master.” Inuyama laughed hoarsely.

“Don’t say that. You’re not a dog, just a bit stupid.”

“Don’t sound so aggrieved. If anyone heard us, they might think I’m a stepfather who abuses his children.” Anjou kicked the leg of Inuyama’s chair, making his head spin.

“Have you met the team I sent to Japan?” Anjou asked.

​​“They are your beloved students, not idiots like me,” Inuyama rasped. “Yes, I’ve met them. Their bloodlines are exceptional, and they’re quite interesting.”

“Really? You Japanese are always so hypocritical. When you think someone’s full of crap, you say something vague like, ‘quite interesting,’” Anjou shrugged. “The team leader is named Caesar. He’s a bit rebellious, ignores everyone, even his father. He’s very confident, convinced that he will be the best in the world one day. I’m sure he’ll come challenge me eventually, once he feels he’s ready. I never praise him, but I send him on the most important missions. The more he succeeds, the more confident he becomes. The more confident, the stronger he gets.”

“The vice-leader, Chu Zihang, is a madman. He’s like a sword that constantly refines itself. The only purpose of a sword is to cut. Whether it’s enemies or fate, it cuts them all. If it can’t cut through, it keeps cutting. That’s why I never worry about Chu Zihang failing. Every failure makes him even more perfect. I always send him on the most dangerous and absurd missions, constantly pushing him to the brink.”

“As for Lu Mingfei,” Anjou smiled, “he’s fantastic. All I need to do is smile at him.”

“Haha, is this a stepfather showing off his prized biological sons to his foolish stepson?” Inuyama laughed, his teeth bloody. “Haha! Haha!”

“Katsu,” Anjou’s smile faded, “I’m an educator. I use different methods to teach different people. Have you ever thought about what kind of education plan I had for you?”

Inuyama froze.

Anjou looked him directly in the eyes. “Katsu, when I first saw you, there was something in your eyes. Do you know what that was?”

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