Kazuma didn't give the old man a chance to speak. He went right on:
"So the illustrious Nanjō family is just a pathetic little clan that will crumble unless they sacrifice their own granddaughter? Honestly, a family like that isn't worth preserving."
"Hmph, what would you know! Representative Asakura—"
Kazuma cut him off sharply. "Representative Asakura, Representative Asakura! You keep bringing up this Representative Asakura. Is he really that impressive? Are you saying you only built the Nanjō Group because of this Representative Asakura?"
"You're just a seventeen-year-old child. What could you possibly understand?" Nanjō Hiroshi was seething. He jabbed a finger at Kazuma's nose.
"When I built the Nanjō Group, do you know how much hardship and how many setbacks I endured? How many dead ends I had to fight my way through?
"Back then, we had no cards to play—nothing but a bad hand. I scraped and clawed to build something from that. And now that I finally have the chance to gather some good cards, what's wrong with trying to secure them? Only a kid like you, sheltered under adults' wings and ignorant of how society works, would spout such naïve nonsense!"
Kazuma blinked. Does this old fossil not know who I am? Has the Nanjō family's intel fallen that far behind? Or maybe it's that old butler Suzuki who's handling their reports, and he didn't pass this one along?
Well, doesn't matter. In a war of words like this, whoever controls the flow of information holds the advantage.
It's the same principle as a debate match—bring up arguments the opponent didn't anticipate, use evidence they didn't expect, and you seize control of the conversation.
And so Kazuma launched his counterattack.
He started by laughing heartily, then pointed right back at Nanjō Hiroshi's nose—a little etiquette in kind.
"I thought that as the founder of the Nanjō Group, a once-renowned figure, you'd have some impressive insights to share with someone of my generation. Never thought I'd hear such crude words instead!
"You're claiming I'm a pampered child sheltered from hardship? A flower raised in a greenhouse? Has the Nanjō Group fallen so far that you can't even gather public information about my background?
"No wonder you're clinging to Representative Asakura like a drowning man to a straw—so desperate you'd sacrifice Nanjō Honami's life for it!
"And let's say, for argument's sake, that I am standing here before you—shouldn't a man of your experience, status, and insight be able to tell that I am no mere child?"
As he spoke, Kazuma stole a glance at the status tag above Nanjō Hiroshi's head.
Dragon of Late Autumn.
The tag had dimmed to the point of near invisibility—Kazuma had nearly overlooked it earlier.
In Kazuma's experience, those with permanent tags could sense each other's aura—much like the attraction between Stand Users.
That Nanjō Hiroshi hadn't sensed Kazuma's aura meant one thing: the man truly had grown old and weak. His tag was probably on the verge of fading entirely.
Of course, Kazuma couldn't exactly say, "Your tag is crying," so he subtly framed his perception of the aura as "experience, status, and insight."
And sure enough—his words left Nanjō Hiroshi visibly shaken. The old man gave Kazuma a long, searching look.
"K-Kiryu?" he murmured, repeating Kazuma's surname. "Runs a dojo? There's still such powerful clans within Tokyo?"
That made Kazuma burst into genuine laughter.
This wasn't a tactical laugh—he simply found it hilarious.
When he finished, he didn't bother hiding the scorn in his expression.
"The Nanjō Hiroshi of old might've been a shining hero. But the man standing before me now? A faint, rotting spark.
"I thought the one who built the Nanjō Group from nothing would understand better than anyone that true heroes aren't judged by their family crest! How far you've fallen—what a shame, what a shame!
"But fine, let me introduce myself properly. I am Kiryu Kazuma, a humble assistant instructor of an obscure little dojo. Our dojo doesn't even have a menkyo kaiden. I doubt the All Japan Kendo Federation even knows we exist!
"Not long ago, Sumitomo Construction tried to forcefully buy out my dojo. The yakuza colluding with them even drove a truck through my dojo's front gate and dumped sewage all over my little sister!"
Looks like the whole "dumped sewage" bit is going to follow poor Chiyoko around forever.
"Yet here I stand. Sumitomo Construction backed off. Not only did they abandon the takeover, their executive director personally promised to adjust the surrounding construction plans to preserve the dojo's sunlight!"
Even mentioning that sunlight still pisses me off, Kazuma thought, but hey, it sounds impressive here.
"The mastermind behind it all? His skull's got a nice hole in it now, and his group no longer exists!
"The very next day, Uesugi Sōichirō—the Kanto Union's chairman himself—visited me in person."
Kazuma kept that statement vague, omitting why Uesugi had visited.
Someday, he'd cut that old demon down himself. But until then, there was no harm in leveraging the name for some intimidation.
"The new front gate of my home was rebuilt by a Kanto Union affiliate! Beneath our cherry tree lie over a dozen pinkies from Kanto Union wakagashira and wakashu!
"Ask around. You'll find every word I'm saying is true."
Kazuma noticed that Nanjō Hiroshi shot a glance toward Butler Suzuki.
So even now, it seemed Suzuki remained Hiroshi's most trusted confidant.
Kazuma didn't bother watching for Suzuki's reaction. He simply stepped forward.
"You tell me—what cards do I have? I have no cards!"
Well, technically I've got the system, but that's beside the point!
"I've got nothing but this one battered life. And yet I'm the one who's winning!
"A person's soul is forged by experience. And me? I don't give a damn about some politician or the founder of some conglomerate. None of it scares me!"
Kazuma was about to keep piling on when something above Nanjō Hiroshi's head caught his eye.
The Dragon of Late Autumn tag… was changing.
It was regaining color—slowly coming back to life after having been all but dead.
There it is!
Kazuma grinned and pressed the attack.
"I'm not afraid to tell you! I've got a wager with Uesugi Sōichirō himself. If I fail to get into the University of Tokyo within a year, he'll come and kill my whole family!
"And do you know what I think about that? If I fail—then I'll burn the entire Kanto Union to the ground!
"Most people would call that a fool's dream. But I don't care!
"To many, this sounds like the reckless bravado of a worthless nobody. But those who are like me—they'll understand. This is true golden spirit. The very key to turning the impossible into reality!"
Kazuma's voice rang with conviction.
After all, he knew exactly what kind of people he was talking about—those who had turned sparks into wildfire, drops of water into towering waves.
He could feel it—that he was one with them. Their spirit transcended time and space, flowing into him.
"The great figure I admire once wrote:
'The iron path ahead may seem impassable,
But today, we start anew from the very beginning.'
"That kind of passion and resolve… I doubt you can comprehend it anymore.
"Nanjō Hiroshi—right now, you are petty. And weak."
(End of Chapter)