Chapter 24: If You Get Into Trouble, Just Use My Name

It was noon the next day when Sakiko Togawa and Mutsumi Wakaba returned to the Togawa residence.

They had spent the entire night sleeping in that Maybach. In the morning, they were awakened by a passing patrol officer who knocked on the window and tried to detain them. Both girls kept their heads down, refusing to meet his gaze. Under normal circumstances, this would hardly be worth making a fuss over; are there not plenty of girls in Tokyo who don't return home at night? Okubo Park hosts a whole battalion of them every evening, and the Metropolitan Police Department ignored it for years before finally stepping in.

However, the luxury car had caught the officer's attention. He sensed something amiss and decided to treat them as runaways to be returned to their families, perhaps hoping for a generous reward from some wealthy tycoon. Just as the officer was preparing to mount his bicycle to take them to the station, Sakiko struck.

Her kick was lightning-fast, a clean and decisive blow that rivaled the legendary "shadowless kick." With a sudden, shrill whistle of air, Mutsumi watched the bicycle spin away along the ground and land in a nearby drainage ditch. Before the officer even realized his bike was gone, he sat down hard in the spot where it had been. His startled cry sent birds scattering from a nearby utility pole; one could only wonder if his tailbone, having kissed the earth, would ever be the same.

Taking advantage of the moment before he could scramble up, Sakiko grabbed Mutsumi and ran. Her low-heeled shoes beat a frantic rhythm against the pavement. They didn't know how long they ran, or where they were headed. All Mutsumi could remember was that everything seemed so blue—not the color of the sky, but the color of Sakiko’s hair. Her beautiful skirt billowed as she sprinted, her legs long, slender, and graceful. It felt as if, as long as she followed Sakiko, she could reach a world free of sorrow.

In that moment, she finally understood what romance felt like. What mattered in a flight to nowhere wasn't that there was no way back, but who was by your side. As long as someone was waiting for you, you would never be a stray dog, no matter how far you wandered. A dog with a home is the happiest creature of all. As for the size of the kennel, whether it was a shack or a mansion made no difference.

But reality had to be faced. They hadn't eaten all morning and had no money. After some deliberation, Sakiko decided they should return home to test her grandfather’s temperament. If he were truly furious, indicating that the situation had reached an irreconcilable point, that was fine too—Sakiko was prepared to argue her case. Her grandfather was stubborn, with his own principles and considerations, but he was at least a reasonable man.

Sakiko would tell him about Mutsumi’s plight. She would say that she was fine with whatever punishment befell her—she would take the blame, accept the beating, or plead guilty. It was all her responsibility, not Mutsumi’s. At the very least, she had to ensure Mutsumi could stay and never return to that place that didn't love her. If he refused, she would turn and leave, choosing a life with Mutsumi. Worst case, she would sell the Maybach for parts! The damage was limited to the bumper, headlights, and hood; it was still drivable, and someone would surely take it off their hands.

It was midday, a time when the residence should have been quiet, but Sakiko was surprised to find two people waiting for them under the portico: her master, Etsu Togawa, and her grandfather, Sadaharu Togawa.

Both men stood with their arms crossed, faces expressionless, like two stern, wrathful Buddhas. An icy, killing aura pressed toward them, so intense that the roses in the courtyard dared not bloom properly, hanging their heads in submission. The garden, usually overflowing with fragrance, now seemed devoid of any scent at all.

"They don't come in peace," Sakiko whispered. She didn't hide or shrink away. Holding Mutsumi’s hand, she walked straight toward the gazes of the two Buddhas.

"Saki, you’re the one who’s coming," Mutsumi reminded her softly.

Sakiko stopped at the base of the steps, looking up at the adults. The height difference made them appear even more imposing. Both old men were figures who held the power of life and death in their hands; a single word from either could bankrupt a family or elevate an unknown youth to the heavens. Their authority was like a guillotine blade resting on the necks of others.

Yet, Sakiko was not afraid. She was a stubborn little deer; her amber eyes, usually so delicate, now shimmered with an untouchable, arrogant light. She looked like a troublemaker ready to pick a fight at any second.

"I did it all! It has nothing to do with Mutsumi!" she declared loudly.

The four of them remained silent for a full half-minute. No one spoke; the big eyes stared at the small ones, and the small eyes refused to yield. Mutsumi thought it was truly over. Returning was a mistake. Last night, they had destroyed the banquet at the Wakaba residence, injured Iori Inuyama, and caused at least two hundred million yen in damages, not to mention the immeasurable fallout—the entire entertainment industry in Tokyo probably knew by now. Even in the Emperor’s own household, if the Emperor’s foolish son had done these things, he would need to provide a very good explanation to the public to gain forgiveness.

"Have you eaten?" Etsu Uesugi asked.

What? Sakiko was stunned. Was this the time for eating? Or was the punishment to add a lethal amount of green peppers to their meal? She looked up, unable to believe her ears.

"If you haven't, I'll make you some noodles. I'm quite confident in my ramen," Etsu said with a sudden grin.

It wasn't just a smile; it was a gleeful, mischievous smirk. He didn't look at them like they were troublesome children; he looked as if he had just seen Sakiko achieve a monumental feat that would cement her name in the history books for generations.

Sakiko looked cautiously at her grandfather. Unlike her master’s playful attitude, Sadaharu Togawa remained expressionless, as severe as a judge holding a gavel ready to strike. The two men’s contrasting attitudes left her completely bewildered.

"The car repairs will be deducted from your allowance," Sadaharu said, descending the steps. The driver had already brought a car to the driveway; it seemed he was planning to leave.

Was that it? It was over? What about the punishment? The phone calls? The lectures? The bill for damages?

The two girls exchanged a look, seeing mutual astonishment in each other's eyes. The world was truly insane, so insane that their logic had completely failed them.

Freshly cooked abalone ramen was placed on the Togawa family dining table. Naruto fish cakes, marinated eggs, and chashu pork were the perfect accompaniments. Etsu didn't forget to pour himself a bottle of chilled sake. In the massive dining room, there were only three diners.

Ever since he had agreed to teach Sakiko kendo, Etsu’s ramen career had been temporarily shelved. With a young, beautiful girl as a sparring partner, who would want to deal with those girls at Tokyo University who wore glasses as thick as bottle bottoms and had bowed legs? But if he didn't do something, just teaching kendo made him restless, so he set his sights on the kitchen. He used the best stocks and the top-tier ingredients of the Togawa household as a laboratory for new flavors, looking at everyone and wanting to say, "I'll make you some noodles."

Etsu had absolute confidence in his special abalone ramen. Even the King of Heaven would have to give it a thumbs up and say "Oishii."

However, the other two diners at the table seemed distracted, their eyes lowered, picking at their food with chopsticks.

"Without a good mood, even dragon liver and phoenix marrow would taste bitter," Etsu said, putting down his chopsticks. As a ramen master, he was top-tier; besides cooking, he knew how to chat. Every ramen master was an expert at understanding the hearts of their patrons.

"I guess you're both wondering why this whole thing just blew over," he said, leaning back comfortably in his chair and drinking directly from the bottle. "That’s why having a good master is important. Choosing me was the best decision you've ever made!"

"You handled it?" Sakiko asked, stunned. She knew her master was no ordinary person—what kind of ramen chef could draw a sword at will and give away ancient relics? But she hadn't realized Etsu Togawa held such sway that he could even pressure her grandfather. It seemed the "adopted son" talk wasn't just a joke.

"Inuyama, that is," Etsu said, waving the bottle carelessly. "Ah-Ga is just a kid. Why get angry at a child?"

*He's a child,* Sakiko thought. *He's eighty years old, very young indeed.*

"If you ask me, you didn't do it with enough flair. Driving away? What kind of feat is that? If it were me, I would have beaten him until he knelt, stepped on his head, and given the middle finger to everyone, telling them if anyone wasn't happy, they could come and settle the score—one by one, or two at a time!" Etsu exclaimed, looking incredibly full of himself.

Sakiko imagined the scene: a dark, windy night, the bright moon hanging high. She stood atop a pile of people, wearing sunglasses and chewing on a cigar, her trench coat fluttering in the wind. Mutsumi stood behind her, waving a black war flag that snapped in the wind, inscribed with gold thread: "Supreme Under Heaven, May You Suffer!"

What was this? The King of Tokyo’s Delinquent Girls?

"I had no choice. It wasn't like I was looking to start trouble," she muttered. She hadn't learned to use blades and guns to do bad things.

"You don't understand. Young people have that privilege, and beautiful girls have even more privilege. People actually enjoy that sort of thing."

"You’re the one who enjoys it!" Sakiko couldn't help but retort.

"A man remains a boy until he dies, so of course, I’ll always love eighteen-year-olds," Etsu chuckled, suddenly sounding a bit lecherous. "You didn't know, did you? When Mizuho was eighteen, she was exactly like that."

"Don't lie. When you first arrived, you mistook me for my mother, which means you haven't seen her in a long time. How could you know anything about her?"

"What would I gain by lying to you? I’m telling the truth. Back then, she was a girl who could grab a steel pipe and go into the mountains to beat up black bears for fun. She dyed her hair blonde, wore mini-skirts and leg warmers—every 'gyaru' in existence would have had to step aside; no one was as spicy as her."

Etsu continued, "Genetics are carved into your bones. A family always shares striking similarities. When Sadaharu heard what you did, he was furious, but I think you should be like that. You aren't meant to be the 'young lady' of the Togawa family; in your bones, you are the same person as your mother."

"A gyaru?"

"No, I mean lawless, looking at nothing with awe—not gods, not emperors. Do you know? Gods have no concept of good and evil, so everything they do is right. They don't need to be constrained by human notions; they can do whatever they want."

"That sounds like you're encouraging me to do bad things."

"How can this be a bad thing? There are some things that, if you don't do them while you're young, you'll regret. Honor students never skip class, so they never know what their own 'gym class' is like. They don't know that a school can be that quiet, they don't know that someone might be sneaking a snack on the second floor of the gymnasium, and they don't know about the little couples kissing on the rooftop."

Etsu took a long drink of sake. "When you grow up and graduate, everyone has a reunion and talks about the past. One says, 'Oh, so-and-so and so-and-so were a couple!' Another says, 'I know! They used to hold hands and kiss! They have kids now!' Someone else says, 'I was so close to so-and-so back then! She confessed to me, but I refused, and I regret it so much!'

"And you? You know nothing. You’ll think you were a fool back then. Everyone has moved on, and all that remains for you are the exercises in your textbooks; you can't think of a single thing to talk about. Face and grades aren't everything in life. You have to do things you wouldn't normally do while you're young, so your youth has something worth remembering."

Sakiko lowered her hand, her chopsticks resting on the table. Her mood suddenly drifted back to last night. Everything she had done had been a flash of hot-blooded impulse—it didn't seem like something she would do, but she didn't regret it.

"I will remember," Mutsumi said suddenly.

Sakiko froze and looked up, meeting those eyes that were always so delicate and silent. Mutsumi tilted her head, her fluffy long hair swaying.

"Anyway, whether it's Inuyama or the Wakaba family, it’s all been settled." Etsu stood up, clapping his hands with a loud laugh. "That incident is over; no need to keep it on your mind. Your task now is to fill your stomachs and then come to the dojo to play with some swords."

His carefree attitude made it seem as if nothing in the world mattered to him. It made Sakiko wonder what kind of powerful figure he had been before he retired, that even her grandfather had to bow in awe.

After the meal, Sakiko took a bath, changed into a white keikogi, tied her hair into a high ponytail, and stepped into the dojo wearing tabi socks.

Mutsumi had already arrived, also wearing a pretty ponytail and dressed in Sakiko’s T-shirt and hakama. She was holding a crimson katana, adjusting her posture under Etsu’s guidance. It seemed she had some interest in kendo and wanted to give it a try. Thinking about it, she was also a hybrid with dragon blood; she certainly wouldn't have received any proper training at the Wakaba residence. If she was willing, learning some kendo together wouldn't be a bad thing.

Sakiko sat on the sidelines, her Murasame resting across her knees.

After correcting her form, Etsu stepped back. Mutsumi gripped the sword with both hands, targeting the wooden dummy in front of her. She took shallow breaths, her chest rising and falling, as a golden tide slowly bloomed from the depths of her eyes.

Her movements changed. It wasn't the standard bamboo sword strike Etsu had taught her. She held the blade horizontally at her waist, as if she were sliding it into a non-existent scabbard. Her aura tightened, returning to a state of near-stillness.

Sakiko sat up straight with a start. At this moment, Mutsumi’s stance was exactly the same as Iori Inuyama’s from the night before!

All the killing intent was suppressed within the blade, not a hint leaking out. Mutsumi was as steady as a mountain, yet the blade trembled slightly, as if an invisible hand were using it as a string to play a song of ten thousand ambushes.