Kengan Alternative
Ch. 2: Two Meetings
"Katahara's dead."
Business meetings weren't uncommon in the quiet back rooms of pachinko parlours They provided neutral ground, a steady supply of drinks, and no prying eyes or ears to butt in on whatever was being said. What was unusual was that this meeting was being held in the small hours of the morning, long after the parlour had closed for the night. Doors locked and lights out, the only life in the building was the sixteen people seated around the table in that backroom.
The man who spoke waited a second for dramatic effect, as his words sank into the people around him. Isafumi Shiro wasn't well liked by the others, considered sly even by the standards of the business world, but he had their attention now, which is all he cared about.
"Went in his sleep, apparently." he continued. "The man survived his own kamikaze, dealt with the Yakuza like nobody's business, but this is as far as he gets in this life."
"Count me surprised, I thought the old dragon would outlive us all." The first reply came from the man to his left, one Koda Momoru, a wry smile parting his lips.
A nastier smile was returned by the younger man across from him, his leather jacket and eyeliner at odds with the crowd of business suits around him. Ishikawa Daishi, Inheritor of his fathers bookstore chain, but never inherited the respect others gave him.
"The shit he pulled? Dying in bed was too good for him." His grin widened, and a murmur went up. As stable as he kept the economy, there wasn't a person there who hadn't been bitten one way or another by Katahara Metsudo, whether through his financial power, or by his "Fangs".
"Respect, please. Would you all speak so ill of one who was not here to defend themselves?" the murmured words died out, as the only standing man spoke. Sang, the buddhist monk in orange robes, held no business, but sought out the Kengan Association to spread the word of his faith.
"Well, regardless. Now the dragon is slain, what happens to his hoard?" Ever business minded, Jasper Rarse was the first to break the silence, asking the question everybody already knew the answer to. The man next to him, shorter and pudgier, and a whole lot more british, offered him a bag of sweets whilst being the one to state the obvious.
"Haven't you seen The Hobbit? When a gold hoard's unguarded, we all fight for it!" As the only man here for the fights, not the business, John Herbert being the one to speak up was unsurprising.
In the next few hours, plans would be drawn, times would be set, and fighters contacted. In exactly three weeks time, the Tournament would begin.
"Katahara's Dead."
Across the sea, another meeting was taking place, of only five people. The man speaking seemed devoid of any emotion, as though a man's death and a clandestine meeting were as mundane as eating breakfast. Next to him, a tall, slender figure, sat cross legged in their chair, sighed with apparent frustration, shoulders slumping.
"Finally... I don't see why it was important to wait for him to die, we could've killed him easily…"
"You could've killed him?" the woman across from him laughed loudly "You'd never get past the bodyguards!" Flicking back her long, blonde hair, she kicked her legs up on the table. It would've been a suggestive move, given the miniskirt and stiletto heels she wore, but the tightly corded muscles beneath her skin instead conveyed a sense of raw, animalistic power. "I could tear the Fang apart like a paper bag. An entertaining bag, maybe, but nothing more."
"If you thought with your brain instead of that overdeveloped body, you'd realise there are more ways to kill than with those wrecking balls you call your hands." The slender figure bit back, and the woman dropped her smile. In a flash, the bottle on the table was flung towards the slender figure, who barely moved, yet the bottle seemed to phase through them, shattering against the far wall.
"Will you both calm down? We couldn't kill him because we don't need anyone looking over their shoulder for us. Now we can carry out our plan as normal, no worries!" Another woman, a younger tired looking Indian, said brightly. She turned to address the blonde directly. "But maybe you need to listen more to-"
"-It's a stupid plan!" The other woman retorted "and I gotta say, the way you talk to me…" she put her feet to the floor, standing to tower over the Indian, joints cracking as she rolled her shoulders back. "...really pisses me off." The space between the two women warped almost visibly with tension, but before it could come to a head-
"Enough."
-The man at the head of the table finally spoke, his words heavy with tiredness, with finality. There would be, could be, no room for argument.
"The plan works as it is. There will be no deviation."
The blonde giantess clenched her jaw, and unclenched it again.
"...Fine." she broke eye contact with the smaller woman, who blew her a kiss behind her back.
The man at the head of the table turned to the deadpan man seated to his left. "You foresee their next steps?"
"Of course." He replied "Probability indicates a tournament to decide Katahara Metsudo's successor as head of the Kengan Association will take place in three weeks time. Amongst the sixteen most likely fighters, suitable candidates will be found. Doctor Rapp has been contacted and prepped, and we have… disposable hands waiting in the wings. Checkmate in twenty-two moves."
"Good. Leave me" The head of the table waved a hand to dismiss the others. Only once he was alone, did he allow himself a small smile, muttering into the now empty room.
"Let the games begin…"