Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 62: Japan Branch (10)

Dragon Raja 3

The claws punctured the metal of the carriage, eventually getting stuck, but Akira didn’t feel the sensation of piercing flesh. During the charge from one end of the carriage to the other, dozens of clashes between claws and swords had occurred. Chisei had been forced to the edge, but just as Akira, in his elation, struck a fatal blow, Chisei disappeared. When he vanished, Akira sensed light, like a sunrise.

“So, you are… Amaterasu,” Akira rasped. “They mentioned that among the Enforcers, there is one called Amaterasu!”

Chisei walked slowly from the back of the carriage, holding a long sword in his right hand and a short one in his left. His black coat flared open, revealing a magnificent Ukiyo-e painting on the lining—a giant’s skeletal remains lay on the earth, a clear spring flowed from the left eye socket, giving birth to a nude goddess, her golden hair draped over her body like a garment, holding the sun in her hands. Outside, the sun was setting, and the light shone through the windows, reflecting the brilliance of a rising sun on Chisei’s coat. Every Enforcer had a unique inner lining to their coat, and Chisei always kept his tightly wrapped, as if afraid of the cold, making him seem like a conservative scholar. Because when he shone, it illuminated the entire world.

“Amaterasu! You are Amaterasu!” Akira roared.

“I told you my name is Chisei, and there is only one person in the Gen Clan, so I am also the head of the Gen family.” Chisei said indifferently, “That also makes me Amaterasu. Give up, you have no chance.”

“So what if you’re Amaterasu?” Akira said in a low voice.

Chisei frowned.

“They all say that Amaterasu makes everyone see the sunlight, but we moths born in darkness…” Akira laughed hysterically, “will only be scorched by your sunlight!” He spun around, his giant claws whipping up a deathly cold wind. This was a death struggle of a cornered beast, Akira forgot everything, immersed in the thrill of limitless violence.

Crow squatted on the railway track, smoking and admiring the stretch of distant mountains, holding a heavy handgun with an extended barrel. Yasha, meanwhile, was standing with his pants unbuttoned, peeing into the deep valley below, seemingly enjoying the arc of his bodily fluid falling into the abyss. All around them, the carriage was violently shaking, the sound of cutting metal piercing the air. Sharp weapons were tearing the old steel carriage apart from inside, leaving it scarred and battered. The old carriage was made from high-quality steel that even a drill would struggle to pierce, yet Chisei and Akira managed to cut through it with blades and claws. Crow was somewhat relieved that he’d locked the doors on either side of the carriage; if Akira burst out, it would take everything Crow and Yasha had to stop him, and they might even have to chase him, which would be too exhausting.

“Did you check the local tourist information? I heard their specialty is cold spring sake, and the hot springs here are quite famous. In the depths of winter, monkeys often come down from the mountains to soak in the hot springs with people,” Crow said.

“I wonder if the young master will give us two days off after we finish off Akira, so we can soak in those hot springs. Maybe the women in the small town will be especially welcoming to a couple of studs from Tokyo,” Yasha grinned.

“I heard they still have mixed bathing here in Hokkaido.”

“Yeah, but I’ve also heard that the ones still doing mixed bathing are all saggy-breasted grannies. Didn’t expect you, Crow, to have a thing for old ladies.”

The carriage shook violently, the roof collapsed, and in the next moment, it expanded like an inflated balloon. Glass shards flew, and scorching air gushed from the twisted windows.

“No, no, I still prefer energetic tanned girls. The only old lady I’m into is your mom.” Crow clasped his hands over his head, avoiding the glass shards that could pierce his skull.

“That’s no good, didn’t I tell you my mom died a long time ago? When I was five, my old man cheated with a bar girl, so my mom rode her motorcycle into that bar, threw a bunch of dynamite onto the stage where that bar girl was singing, and blew her into thousands of pieces. The police called it an extremely malicious homicide, and the judge sentenced her to death. If you want to bathe with her, you’ll have to head to the sulfur springs of hell, my friend.”

“Didn’t expect your mother to be such a fiercely devoted woman. That makes me want to stay away; I can’t be loyal to just one person.”

“Let me tell you, being an orphan is the best thing in the world. You can harass the prettiest girl in class, get into fights without worrying about the other parents causing trouble. That’s why so many swordsmen in novels are orphans. I was born to be a swordsman,” Yasha said, lighting a cigarette. “Sure, sometimes it gets a bit lonely, but that just makes you feel even more like a swordsman, right?”

“Have you been reading books lately? You sound more and more like a philosopher.” Crow shrugged. “You mentioned that your devoted mom was sentenced to death, but what about your dad?”

“Oh, I forgot one detail — that bar girl was sitting on his lap, singing at the time.”

Their conversation was completely pointless; they were merely passing the time while waiting for Chisei. When Chisei executed a judgment, it was always like this: he lured the prey into a trap, went in alone, and locked the door behind him. Crow and Yasha just had to wait outside with a body bag. A few minutes later, Chisei would come out, toss a bloodstained blade to Crow, and tell him to clean it, with a slightly bored expression. Gradually, Crow and Yasha got used to it. While waiting for Chisei, they would chat about women or brag to kill time. It was like waiting for a friend to come out of the restroom — there was nothing you could do to help; eventually, your friend would come out. Even though this fight had dragged on longer than usual, they weren’t worried that the person who would walk out would be Akira.

They had been following Chisei for quite some time and knew well just how powerful the young chief of the Execution Bureau was. The legendary Amaterasu, what an awe-inspiring bloodline.

“Six minutes have passed, and the young master hasn’t finished the target yet.” A voice came from the shadows of the carriage.

“Have you finished changing, Sakura? If not, can we sneak a peek?” Crow said, laughing lewdly.

“Haven’t you already peeked before? But you never saw anything,” replied the person from the shadows.

A school uniform and white socks were tossed out from the darkness, followed by Ogata Maru, now dressed in all black, emerging. But she was no longer Ogata Maru. Her aura had changed, and with it, her appearance as well. Ten minutes ago, she was still an eighteen-year-old high school girl. Now, with her hair tied into a long ponytail, her age seemed to leap into her twenties. No longer the sweet and delightful prey, she had become a blade radiating a subtle, chilling aura. From Akira’s perspective, if Maru knew how to put on makeup and wore something more seductive, she’d be even more attractive. But what he didn’t realize was that the girl’s clear and flawless skin was already a product of makeup. The real “Ogata Maru” had skin as pale as snow, almost devoid of any blood color.

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