Chapter 433: Falling Out

Chapter 433 – Reversal

Boom!

Thunder roared, accompanied by a muffled sound.

In the dim light, two fists of vastly different sizes collided fiercely.

Shattered synthetic skin mingled with fragments of clothing, fluttering about like willow catkins.

Crimson bloodwater seeped slowly from the point of impact, splashing onto the rain‑spattered wooden floor of the izakaya.

"This rain is truly heavy."

Standing at the doorway, Old Nagasaki pulled on the shoji door handle; the old, warped rails made his drag laborious.

Just as the shop door was about to close, a wet palm snatched the moment, blocking Old Nagasaki’s motion.

"Grandpa, don’t close the door—it's me."

Old Nagasaki, hearing that familiar childish voice, hurriedly opened the door; a gaunt silhouette slipped in through the crack.

"How did you get soaked like this, you wretched kid—why not wait for the rain to ease before coming back?"

Old Nagasaki gazed at the plain‑clothed youth with a heart full of tenderness, unclipping the towel around his neck to wipe the rain from the youth’s face.

"That won’t do; today the masters assigned a heap of homework. If I keep hiding from the rain, I’ll never finish it tonight."

The boy answered with a cheeky grin, then turned and saw two strangers at the counter, his face instantly flushing with embarrassment; instinctively he folded his hands over his belly, about to bow.

But as his waist sank, the boy seemed to recall something and instantly raised his hand, assuming a proper Confucian scholar’s bowing gesture.

From the side, Old Nagasaki frowned, suppressing the anger rising in his chest, grabbed the boy’s wrist, and addressed the two at the counter: “Allow me to introduce you—this is my grandson, Nagasaki Mine.”

"My name is now Zhang Feng; it was the master who gave me this name."

The boy corrected the elder’s mistake with precise enunciation: “From now on you must not call me incorrectly.”

Smack!

The old man struck the boy’s back with a palm, shouting angrily: “You are a Wajin, not a Ming man! Your name is Nagasaki Mine, taken by your grandfather, not some ugly Zhang Feng!”

The boy’s pale face flushed instantly, perhaps because his cherished Ming name was defamed, perhaps because he was scolded before strangers; his fists clenched, he kept silent and bolted into the back of the izakaya.

"Damned kid, from now on in my shop you shall not utter your Ming name again!"

The elder’s fury lingered; then he noticed the towel clenched in his hand, his expression a tangled mix of worry, heartache, and indescribable complexity.

"Ah."

Old Nagasaki sighed dejectedly, forcing a grimace of a smile at the two, “I’m sorry—you’ve seen how ill‑mannered the children have become nowadays.”

Pshh!

Boiling water spurted from the pot, leaping into the flame on the stove.

Old Nagasaki cried out, darting forward to pull the softened noodles from the pot.

Throughout it all, he seemed not to notice the scattered skin fragments and drops of crimson blood on the floor.

"Old Nagasaki, I recall you have no children—where did a grandson suddenly appear from?"

Fujimiya Harukaze and Sōseki no Kū’s faces bore playful smiles, showing no hint of icy menace.

Old Nagasaki added various seasonings to the broth, not looking up: “Of course I do; for years I’ve never introduced him to you.”

"We used to frequent your shop; we’ve never seen him—how could that be? What does he do?"

"Hōkō."

Old Nagasaki spoke in an unusually calm tone, as if describing something utterly ordinary.

"During the Edo upheaval, he was slain by the Shinsengumi; he died in a street not far from here. I did not retrieve his body, fearing it would affect Nagasaki Mine."

The atmosphere inside the shop fell to an icy stillness; beyond the rain’s patter on the windows, no voices remained.

"The noodles are a bit overcooked; you needn’t complain."

He placed two steaming bowls of ramen on the counter, smiling: “Perhaps soon you’ll never taste such ramen again.”

"But that’s of no matter." The old man twitched his mouth: “I heard in the empire’s northwest a province famed for its ramen—should the chance arise, remember to try it.”

Hrrr‑hrrr.

The sucking sound persisted, as Fujimiya Harukaze and Sōseki no Kū buried their heads in their bowls, devouring the noodles until the bowls were spotless, not a drop of broth left.

Their movements were almost indistinguishable; when they lifted their heads they found Old Nagasaki already leaning against the faint blue carbon fire, sinking into a deep sleep.

"Regardless of whether you believe it, the traitor to Tokugawa Hiroshi is neither I nor Ming‑shi Haruhide!"

Sōseki no Kū laid his chopsticks across the rim of his bowl, speaking gravely.

"May I ask you this: after the Edo turmoil, multiple factories of Sankawa Jūkō were simultaneously assaulted, the golden‑broth mainframes of Takama‑no‑Hara all seized."

Fujimiya Harukaze asked: “Is it you who did this?"

"It was me."

"Give me a reason."

"The Shinsengumi already has us in their sights; if we do not relocate this cargo, they will inevitably capture it."

"Relocation requires such methods?"

"If I speak, will you hand it over?"

"Of course not; Takama‑no‑Hara is the work of Tokugawa Hiroshi. Now that he is dead, I would rather destroy these mainframes than give them to you."

"Takama‑no‑Hara belongs to the four families of our region; it is the foundation for the revival of the Wa district."

"Hahahahaha"

Fujimiya Harukaze could not help but scoff, his tone dripping with contempt: “Do you truly intend to restore a nation?"

"Of course I will."

Sōseki no Kū, you truly think I am merely a blacksmith who knows only iron? I know many things besides.

"In your hands, Takama‑no‑Hara is useless."

Sōseki no Kū did not answer the accusation; calmly he said: “I have come today to demand that you surrender the remaining golden‑broth mainframes; we have little time left.”

"I have already said it—I would rather destroy those mainframes than give them to you."

Fujimiya Harukaze’s brows were deeply furrowed, his eyes narrowed as he gazed up at Sōseki no Kū, a self‑deprecating sigh escaping him: “All my life I trusted Lord Tokugawa, believing under his guidance the Wa district would shed the grip of the Great Ming Empire and reclaim its former glory. Yet he fell so easily—truly disheartening!”

"I am indeed ill‑suited for strategy and cannot endure patience, but I am capable of killing."

He paused, inhaled deeply, his brows unfurling like a black sea, and pointed a finger at Sōseki no Kū.

"If I discover evidence of your betrayal of Lord Tokugawa, I will personally slay you and Ming‑shi Haruhide."

"I am waiting for you."

Sōseki no Kū rose, his towering frame swallowing the dim light; his shadowed visage bore only eyes blazing with ferocious vigor: “But you must hurry—there are many who wish to kill me.”

"It will be swift, as you say—both of us have little time left."

Wah‑lah!

The tightly closed shop door was pulled open, and the surging cold wind that rushed in made the lights tremble.

Fuyun Yujiang sat alone at the dining table, staring at his right arm where the skin had shattered, the twisted, collapsed knuckles stained with mottled blood.

“There’s still a gap, but once I sell Sanchuan Heavy Industries and get that mechanical heart, it should be enough.”

After an unknown amount of time, Nagasaki Feng tiptoed out from the depths of the izakaya, only to discover that the two patrons had already left.

Only a gaunt figure lay prostrate on the dining table, snoring loudly.

The old man was draped in a black feathered coat that had only one sleeve.

“I’m called Zhang Feng!”

The youth’s expression was resolute, fists clenched as he whispered, yet he was startled to find the old man’s body shuddering suddenly, and he immediately covered his mouth in terror.

Perhaps the old man’s spasming body in his sleep had triggered the projection’s control switch, and a color‑distorted image reappeared on the wall.

“In the twelfth year of Jiaqi, on April 23rd, the Office of the Japanese District’s Relief Commissioner issued an announcement: the Hónghú Rebel Army, which had lurked in the Japanese District for decades and severely endangered the lives and property of the populace, has been completely dismantled.”

The youth stood in a corner, and for a moment he was filled with awe.