Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 419: God’s Downfall (11)

Dragon Raja 3

Caesar, watching Fūma Kotarō’s expression with keen interest, tried to gauge his opponent’s thoughts. Finger, that madman, had played a clever card—he’d stabbed the opposition before the negotiation had even started.

To Caesar’s surprise, Fūma Kotarō began to laugh—not just a quiet chuckle, but a hearty, booming laugh.

“Someone actually dug up those old scandals of mine,” he said, glancing toward Sakurai Nanami, who stood not far away. “It’s true, her name used to be Aiko Fuyutsuki, and she was my goddaughter. There was quite a stir in my family over that. I’ve always suspected she still resents me after all these years, but how could an old man like me stand in the way of such a young girl’s future? But Aiko, you’re not exactly a young girl anymore either.”

Fūma Kotarō spoke with full force, and everyone around him heard his words clearly, essentially revealing to all that there had been an intimate relationship between two prominent family heads.

“If you think this is a threat, then you’re mistaken,” Fūma Kotarō said softly, looking directly into Caesar’s eyes. “These ridiculous things only show that we are just ordinary people. We make the same mistakes that ordinary people make, and we have the same greed as ordinary people. Even an old man like me, halfway in the grave, can occasionally be drawn to a young girl. It was foolish back then—I thought of her every day, spent money buying her talent agency, bought her flowers, and made her my goddaughter. Because I felt old, withered, and I wanted something called love to bring me back to life.” At this point, he switched to fluent Chinese.

Caesar’s expression changed. The candor of this old man, who seemed as dry as a piece of deadwood, evoked a sense of respect.

“But the person standing here to negotiate with you is not me as an ordinary person,” Fūma Kotarō continued slowly. “Nor is it the ordinary me who wishes to kill a god. Having taken this step forward, we already have the resolve of ‘backing into the water.’”

“Backing into the water?” Caesar didn’t quite grasp the term.

“It means standing with your back to the water, with no way to retreat,” Fūma Kotarō explained patiently. “As an ordinary person, I enjoy the laughter and smooth skin of young girls, they smell nice, unlike my late wife, who always smelled of firewood when she was alive. As an ordinary person, I also enjoy getting drunk and bragging about my youthful feats, adding a lot of exaggeration. As an ordinary person, I have a decent stash of savings, invested in Mitsubishi Bank, and I use the profits to treat my old friends to strip clubs. We act quite sleazy when we’re around young women.”

Though his words were crude, Caesar showed no hint of mockery. He simply listened in silence.

“But as the head of the Fūma family, I have to care about my family, this country’s future, and the honor of the Fūma clan. This is not something I enjoy—it brings me great pain. I know that once I get involved, I have to say goodbye to the pleasures of ordinary people. No more sweet-smelling girls with smooth skin, no more fine drinks, no more sleazy gatherings with old friends. A few days ago, I visited my wife’s grave to say goodbye. She was quite the woman in her youth—loved motorcycles, so her gravestone is a stone motorcycle.”

Caesar nodded slightly, signaling he understood.

“I’m already involved now, standing with my back to a bottomless abyss. If I step back, I’ll fall, but I’ve come to terms with that,” Fūma Kotarō said. “I’m willing to sacrifice so much, so why should I care about reputation? Those absurdities you mentioned were just the follies of an ordinary person. But now, I’m not an ordinary person—I am the head of the Fūma family, Fūma Kotarō.”

He loosened his kimono, revealing a short black sword tucked into his belt, its hilt bound to the scabbard with an intricate red cord. It was the traditional dagger used for seppuku (ritual suicide).

“In this day and age, isn’t using a gun for suicide a bit more convenient?” Caesar remarked.

“Of course, it’s not meant for actual seppuku—it’s more a symbol of my resolve. But if necessary, we are prepared to sacrifice ourselves for our family and nation.” Fūma Kotarō reverently held the dagger and presented it to Caesar.

In the stormy rain, the gang members around them bowed deeply and tightened their grips on their guns. It was clear that if they were rejected, they were prepared to use force—even if it meant putting Sakurai Nanami and Fūma Kotarō in the line of fire.

“Well said. You are indeed the head of the Fūma family,” Caesar clapped, acknowledging the distinction. “You are no longer the ordinary Fūma Kotarō.”

This was a show of respect between noble adversaries. Fūma Kotarō’s differentiation between his “ordinary self” and his “self as a family head” paralleled the Freudian concept of the id and the superego. He had transcended his personal desires and reputation, standing before Caesar in all his vulnerability, yet commanding respect.

“So, what does the head of the Fūma family wish to discuss with us?” Caesar asked.

“Originally, I didn’t plan to negotiate with you. The man hiding among you, Chime, can only be dealt with by our family head. But due to special circumstances, he cannot be here right now. My duty is simply to lock down this area and prevent the situation from worsening,” Fūma Kotarō explained. “However, it seems one of your friends thinks that by taking me hostage, you can ensure your safety.”

“Our friend?” Caesar was puzzled. Who among them could be considered a friend in Japan? Their only companions were the hosts, servers, and cashiers inside the club.

The girl holding the umbrella for Fūma Kotarō raised it higher, revealing her platinum blonde hair, her skirt’s edges singed with fiery gold. She placed her hand on Fūma Kotarō’s shoulder, standing by him as if they were a harmonious grandfather and granddaughter duo.

“Zero?” Everyone on Lu Mingfei’s side was shocked.

Zero’s knee was clearly injured, blood mixing with the rain as it flowed down her leg, staining her white socks red.

She had been holding onto Fūma Kotarō’s shoulder because it was the only way she could stay upright. Hidden behind the umbrella handle was her black combat knife, ready to plunge into Fūma Kotarō’s back at any moment.

“Hello, everyone, long time no see,” Zero greeted them. Her tone was oddly casual, as if they had just run into each other on a Tokyo street, completely ignoring the fact that hundreds of guns were pointed at them.

“It seems I’ve taken the wrong person hostage. Even if I had you, it wouldn’t matter,” Zero looked down at Fūma Kotarō’s back.

“I’m not here to negotiate, and I won’t do so under duress,” Fūma Kotarō said calmly. “You can cut off my head, but if I negotiate while being coerced, what will be severed is my honor.”

Zero nodded, then returned the combat knife to her bag and limped toward Caesar. But she had been standing there too long without moving, and as her wound reopened, she nearly fell.

Suddenly, Fūma Kotarō stood up, bent down, and lifted Zero into his arms, carrying her slowly toward Caesar. His presence as he approached was overwhelming, like that of a demon lord. Caesar’s hand tightened around his Desert Eagle instinctively.

Fūma Kotarō respectfully handed Zero over: “This is one of your school’s students who has earned great respect in Japan. Though she’s just a girl, she has the heart of a samurai—swift as fire, still as a mountain, following her principles. I now return her to you.”

Lu Mingfei silently thought, Old man, you’ve completely misunderstood her nature. She spared you because you were no longer useful, not out of some sense of honor.

“Catch me, aren’t you just standing there doing nothing?” Zero looked at Lu Mingfei.

Just as Lu Mingfei was about to reach out, a hero jumped in between them and grabbed Zero.

“Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” Finger smiled as he patted Zero’s face, brimming with masculine energy, as if he had just saved her in some gallant rescue.

“Oh… I wasn’t talking to you,” Zero said, slightly surprised.

“No worries! Doesn’t matter! Junior’s free, and I’m free too!” Finger grinned broadly.

Fūma Kotarō quietly observed the gun now pointed at his chest, held firmly by Finger. As Finger passed by Lu Mingfei, he had sneakily snatched the gun. His rush to grab Zero was actually a ruse to continue holding Fūma Kotarō hostage. The News Department’s style was certainly shameless.

“It seems not everyone at Cassell College follows principles of honor,” Fūma Kotarō remarked coldly.

Finger, full of roguish swagger, nudged Zero’s face: “Sorry, she’s the one with honor. I’m the sleaze from the main campus. Less talking, more negotiating! I finally got you as a hostage, and you think I’ll just let you go that easily? Am I that wasteful?”

“What do you want?” Fūma Kotarō asked.

“With all this rain, we’d like to go inside and have a little chat!” Finger pointed at the opulent High Heaven Pavilion behind him.

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