RosyMiranto18: Rene has to check up on his childhood friends after all being the big brother figure lmao. The yakuza and mafia are basically crime orgs involving gangs but with key differences. I headcanon that the yakuza is more prominent in the Far East, but since the desertification, they started to die out and all of that. Of course, I have my own take heh... And Kress's father is the Chairman if it wasn't obvious already. Kress and Hikaru slept in their apartment. Naturally, they have their own rooms lol. Hikaru is the same age as Kress but younger in months, so she passes as a student. I believe the schools in Zemuria, at least to my knowledge, only go up to two years, so there's no third year. Anyways, my bad if I don't react or respond to all of your reactions! If I don't it's because I refrain from commenting to keep myself from spilling future plot lmao. Thank you for reading and reviewing.
CROSS-EVOL-X: Nah, don't worry. He'll have his excuses... and part of it is going to be shown in this chapter lmao. And yes, he'll have some of his own unique connect events with his two heroines. Oh, definitely. People will definitely find their closeness suspicious and even worse when Renne joins in the mix lol. No worries, mate. Glad you're enjoying the fic.
Leomitch: And thanks for reading, awesome reader! Oh yeah, with Kress's luck, he might just stumble upon that tea party even lol. Van and Elaine moments will occur more frequently... in future chapters. Hehe, no comment for now.
Cdswalkthrough: Definitely.
Fiction Fan 369: I hope so too and hope irl doesn't screw me over too frequently. Kress's ultimate weakness... paperwork.
Koncor the great: That is the intent.
Yooo, belated Happy New Year, folks! Hope you're still around to read this! Sorry it took so long to pump out a chapter. Irl got in the way a bit, and my co-writter was a little busy as well. I'm not sure if weekly or bi weekly chapters are still a go, but no abandonment of this fic! Especially when we're getting Daybreak 2 soon as well! And most likely Kai no Kiseki this year, even. Anyways, no making up excuses besides just saying irl got in the way. Here's the next chapter ya'll might be waiting for!
"I'll be going now!"
"Understood. Take care and stay safe, Agnes."
"Don't do anything I'd do."
"Isn't the saying 'don't do anything I wouldn't do,' Kress?"
"Considering this is Kress we're talking about, I believe what he said is more appropriate."
"Oh, shut up, Albert."
The blonde teenager giggled at the banter between her fellow student council members before she bowed once again and took her leave. Their work resumed once again as Hikaru picked up where their General Affairs person had left off. With her efficiency with paperwork, it felt like they didn't lose any manpower.
Today was the day Agnes had left for her part-time job at Van Arkride's office.
What that exactly entailed, Kress had no idea. However, he could hazard a few guesses knowing what exactly a Spriggan does.
Despite the possible dangers ahead, the transmigrator trusted Van enough to keep his junior safe. At the very least, he trusted that they wouldn't take any absurd levels of danger while Agnes was new to the whole Spriggan business. He saw her determination, yes, but he felt like she was still naïve and green to the cruelties of the underworld.
Then again, so was he.
From a graduating ordinary student to the abandoned young master of a yakuza clan.
Funny how life worked.
At Renne's suggestion, the council decided to take a short break. Albert accompanied Hikaru to the cafeteria to grab some snacks, and Odette bolted to the restroom, leaving Kress alone with Renne.
The young heir took the opportunity to check out his list of new skills in the guise of reading a novel.
[SKILLS LIST]
Cunning Thug
Power Surge 1
Power Surge 2
Baseball Physics
He had farmed quite a lot of Yakuza Points due to (annoying) encounters with delinquents and thugs all over Edith, but two out of four of his new skills cost nearly all of them.
Power Surge was self-explanatory— they were a standard boost in his overall physical capabilities.
But Cunning Thug and Baseball Physics?
Those were the skills that piqued his interest... and the ones where he almost went broke of Yakuza Points.
Now those were interesting.
Despite nearly going broke on Yakuza Points, Kress had no regrets.
The transmigrator wouldn't have any time to scroll through the Yakuza System's list of available skills as he heard Renne called out to him.
"How do you think Agnes is doing, Keisuke?"
Kress lifted his eyes away from the book and looked at Renne, eyebrow quirking upward. "In her part-time job?"
"Yes," She nodded. "Aren't you worried?"
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," The transmigrator admitted and set his book down, folding his arms over his chest with a thoughtful look. "But I know her boss, so I'm sure she'll be fine."
"Such confidence."
"Sounds to me like you're the one worried for her, Prez."
"Of course. She is our precious junior after all," Her eyes twinkled in veiled mischief. "And that's why I have a proposition for you, my competent and reliable vice president."
That sweet, almost sickeningly, tone of hers... He didn't like it. Every time she used that kind of tone with him, he always had to do some troublesome tasks on top of his already heavy workload as the vice president of Aramis.
"Just get to the point, Renne." He grumbled, much to her amusement as she laughed.
"No need to be so annoyed. I'm doing you a favor as well, you know?"
"How...?"
"Well..." She spun the pen in her hand idly, thinking of how to articulate herself before she smirked. "For one, you'll be able to be dismissed from your regular vice president duties early."
"Wait, then who'll—"
"Miss Aozaki."
Dropping that single name made Kress gasp in realization before he fell into contemplation. It was true that Hikaru was scarily efficient to the point that they might even finish their paperwork before sunset. He was certain that his maid could pull off his duties flawlessly.
The question was: would she actually comply?
The whole reason Hikaru enrolled in Aramis was to keep an eye on the transmigrator and protect him from any unexpected danger.
Would she really be willing to take over his responsibilities if it meant letting him out of her sight?
As if sensing his internal dilemma, the purple-haired young lady said, "Don't worry. I can be quite persuasive."
"...Fine." He sighed after a few seconds. "What's the catch?"
"I'd prefer to call it the equivalent exchange for such a perk." She grinned, but it only lasted for a second as it softened. "You don't have to accompany Agnes 24/7. All I ask is you check up on her while she's working. If you can help her in any way, then please do assist."
"That's all?"
"That's all." She nodded her head, smiling. "After that, you are free to investigate your clan matters or whatever you wish."
Kress studied Renne's expression carefully, searching for any hidden motives behind her offer. With her, there was always a catch— some unseen angle she had already calculated before the conversation even began.
But as much as he hated to admit it, this one seemed… reasonable.
Just checking up on Agnes? Making sure she was doing alright? It wasn't even that much of a hassle. He already intended to keep an eye on her whenever he could.
"Alright, fine. I'll check in on her..." Kress let out another sigh. "But it sure feels like you're trying to get rid of me, Renne. Tired of me already?"
"Oh, far from it! I believe the student council room wouldn't be as lively as it is without you, my dear vice president."
"Uh-huh. Sure."
Renne chuckled, resting her chin on her hand. "You wound me, Keisuke. I'm simply looking out for everyone's best interests. Besides, I'm certain Miss Aozaki will handle your duties exceptionally well."
"We're back!"
Just as Kress was about to retort, the door opened as Albert and Hikaru returned with Odette in tow, arms filled with an assortment of chips, pastries, and sandwiches. The president and vice president duo shot each other a glance before the transmigrator got up and helped set the snacks on the desks.
"So, what did we miss?" Odette asked, tilting her head curiously.
"Paperwork," Kress quipped as he set down Renne's preferred pastry on her desk. "Your blackberry puff pastry, Your Highness."
"Thank you, my royal jester."
"I'm not even a knight?!"
His retort was met by giggles and laughter from Renne and Odette, even Albert cracked an amused smile as Hikaru began to brew the tea for their snack time.
Yeah. The workload was atrocious, but with a student council like this, it was never boring.
Thanks to Hikaru's efficient performance, they managed to finish all their student council work in record time. With their work done, they all went their separate ways.
Kress and Hikaru walked beside each other while whispering. Their lack of distance or personal boundaries might make one assume they were a couple.
But the truth of the matter was less lovey-dovey.
"There seems to be a commotion in the Blacklight District," Hikaru informed the abandoned heir, whose brows furrowed in thought. He hummed to signal her to continue. "I'm uncertain if it's related to the Hibiki Clan, but I believe it's still worth checking out."
"You don't usually follow intel without a degree of certainty." Kress pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "You have a hunch or something?"
To the transmigrator's surprise, unease crept onto Hikaru's face.
"I suppose a hunch would be the most accurate." Hikaru nodded slowly. "I think it's for the best if you see what I am talking about yourself, Young Master. If my hunch is correct, the Hibiki Clan might have started to grow powerful in the business side of the underworld."
Kress scowled. "...You think they're gaining power?"
Hikaru nodded. "And if that's the case, then you should see it with your own eyes, Young Master."
The transmigrator exhaled sharply. If there was even a chance that his father's reach was growing, then sitting around wasn't an option.
"We have no time to lose, then."
After a brief stop at their apartment to change out of their uniforms, the two stepped back onto the streets, now dressed in their usual "out-of-school" attire for a trip to the Blacklight District.
As they entered through the usual entrance, Kress couldn't help but notice how the thugs they passed reacted to him.
Glances turned wary. Conversations dropped to hushed whispers. Some outright changed their path to avoid getting in his way. A few thugs who would have normally picked a fight outright turned on their heels, disappearing into the alleyways like rats scattering from a predator.
That got Kress to raise a brow.
The transmigrator knew that he had thrown his fair share of fists and kicks in the Blacklight District, mainly due to somehow always attracting the attention of the local thugs.
But he wasn't quite sure it warranted such a reaction.
"They were the ones who would always attack first, yet they're reacting like I'm the one always picking a fight..." Kress grumbled, unable to resist scowling that caused a few burly thugs to squeal and scurry off. "Oh, come on!"
"Pay them no mind, Young Master." Hikaru's calm answer did ease his annoyance. "Think of it as simply the logical conclusion after being on the receiving end of your strength."
"I guess... Doesn't mean that I can't feel a bit salty over their reactions."
A faint chuckle slipped from Hikaru's lips, almost too quiet to catch.
"Perhaps you should take it as a compliment," She mused. "You've built quite the reputation for yourself. Even the fools know better than to challenge you blindly now."
"Not exactly the kind of reputation I want but whatever, I guess..."
Now that he thought about it... Maybe this was just the result of the Yakuza System's reputation thing taking into effect?
As Kress mulled over his growing notoriety, Hikaru suddenly tugged at his sleeve, signaling him to stop.
"Over there."
Following her gaze, Kress spotted a familiar figure— Bishop, the information broker. Normally, the man carried himself with his usual carefree swagger, but this time… something was off. His movements were stiff, guarded. More importantly, he wasn't alone.
A trio of men in black suits flanked him on either side like well-trained hounds escorting their prey. The way they carried themselves— the cold indifference in their eyes— immediately reminded Kress of the Almata grunts he had fought before.
Almata's got their hands on Bishop? Kress frowned. Just what the hell did the information broker get himself into now?
"They're leading Bishop somewhere," Hikaru noted, her tone unreadable. "Shall we follow?"
"Like you even need to ask." Kress adjusted his collar and started walking, making sure to keep enough distance so they wouldn't be noticed.
The two tailed the group through the streets of the Blacklight District, weaving past bars and dimly lit alleys. Kress kept his pace casual, hands in his pockets, but his eyes tracked every step.
"Is this...?"
Eventually, they arrived at their destination. It was a newly established building that stood out even among the sleazy establishments around it. The building itself was in pristine condition, freshly renovated, which meant someone had poured serious money into setting it up. A gaudy neon sign flickered above the entrance, the name barely visible between failing lights, but he could still make it out.
Lost Angels.
A soapland.
Kress exhaled through his nose. "This what you were talking about earlier?"
Hikaru gave a curt nod. "Yes. The establishment appeared almost overnight. I couldn't determine the owner at the time, and the name threw me off, but one of the Hibiki Clan's business ventures was soaplands..."
He scowled. That was all Kress needed to hear.
Slipping into a side alley, they found a vantage point near an open window. Staying low, they listened in, the voices inside carrying just enough for them to make out the conversation.
"You need to reconsider," Bishop's voice, firm but wary. "I don't know what they promised you, but blackmailing women into this business? You're crossing a line."
A gruff chuckle followed.
"And what of it? You suddenly got a moral code, info broker? Last I checked, you make your living off other people's suffering."
"That's rich, coming from the scumbag who needs threats just to keep a business running," Bishop shot back, unimpressed. "Let them go. You're dragging innocent women into something they didn't sign up for."
A moment of silence passed before the other man let out a low scoff.
"I don't take orders from you," the unknown voice growled. "Almata's backing us now. That means I decide how things run here. The girls stay."
Kress felt his jaw tighten, fingers curling into fists at his sides. So it was Almata. Not only were they backing this operation, but someone connected to the Hibiki Clan was running it.
His so-called family was knee-deep in this filth.
A glance at Hikaru told him she wasn't any happier about it. Her expression remained impassive, but the faintest glint in her eyes spoke her for— it was absolute murder.
The assassin glanced at her master and whispered, "Shall we intervene?"
"Not yet," He whispered back, yet his hand was already reaching for his baseball bat. "Let's see how this plays out first."
They crept closer, pressing themselves against the wall just beneath the open window. The voices inside remained clear.
"You don't want to do this." Bishop's tone was lighter now, less confrontational— he was switching tactics. "I know Almata's offering you a good deal, but let's be real here. They're only using you. The second you're no longer useful, they'll throw you aside."
"Nice try, but I know what I'm getting into. And unlike you, I actually have backing."
"I've been around longer than you have. Trust me when I say Almata doesn't back anyone. They consume. And once they've taken everything from you, what do you think happens next?"
Silence.
Kress arched a brow. For a second, it almost sounded like Bishop was getting through to the guy.
Then came the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.
"You talk too much." The man's voice had lost its amusement. "Get out of my sight before I change my mind about letting you walk out of here with both your legs intact."
"Wait! I-I'll buy off the girls from ya! Name your price and just let them go!"
"Not. Interested."
Before Bishop could get another word in, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the room. Kress peeked through the window just in time to see the owner's 'security'— a group of burly, suited men were closing in around the information broker.
One of them cracked his knuckles, grinning. "Boss gave you a free pass, but you just had to push it, huh?"
Bishop clicked his tongue, already backing up toward the door, but his escape route was cut off by another thug stepping in his way.
"Now, now," Another goon chuckled. "We can't exactly let you leave empty-handed, can we? Maybe a broken arm will teach you not to stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
"Damn it…"
Kress had seen enough.
Before Hikaru could react, he stepped forward and kicked the door open, the loud BANG echoing through the room like a gunshot.
Every pair of eyes snapped toward him.
Kress walked in casually, baseball bat resting against his shoulder, a smirk playing at his lips. "Wow. Six-on-one? Really? You guys call yourselves men?"
One of the thugs scowled. "Who the hell—"
That was as far as he got before Hikaru blurred past Kress and silently took down the nearest goon with a precise strike to the neck, knocking him down in an instant.
"…The hell?!"
"I'll give you punks two choices: you can keep yourself from beating the crap out of him," Kress gestured at Bishop with a headtilt. "And let the women go or you can let the women go after we beat the crap out of all of you?"
The air in the room shifted. The remaining thugs, initially dismissive, now stood rigid, eyes flickering between the unconscious man on the floor and the pair who had just crashed their party. Meanwhile, the mafioso in the back slowly took out their firearm. Recognition dawned in their eyes for different reasons.
"You..."
"A-Ain't he the guy who's been tearin' through thugs in the district lately?!"
"H-He's the Akuma, big bro!"
Akuma? Like that one fighting game character? Is that what they're calling him?
"Correction," The young heir cut in, ignoring the faint creeping sense of cringe at his supposed title. "You guys are the ones picking fights. I just finish them."
Bishop, ever the opportunist, took a step toward Kress, flashing a lopsided grin. "Well, well. You're a sight for sore eyes. Did you come all this way to rescue little ol' me?"
"Yeaaaah, no. I sure as hell wouldn't stand by and just watch them break your legs, though."
"Heh. Fair enough."
The leader of the hired muscle pulled himself together, his grip tightening on his weapon.
"Tch. You little punk. I don't care what kind of rep you got— this ain't your damn business!"
He charged at Kress, and that was all the signal they needed for all of them to charge.
The men in black pointed their orbal guns at the teenagers, but before they could even pull the trigger, menacing pink eyes appeared before them. In a flash, chains wrapped around their wrists before shallow slashes forced them to release their grip on their firearms.
"Any attempts to resist will result in death," Hikaru warned as the blade of her twin scythes held themselves close to one of the mafioso's throats.
Kress barely spared Hikaru a glance. He already knew she had things handled. Right now, his focus was on the swarm of thugs barreling straight for him.
The first one reached him fast, throwing a wild punch aimed straight at his head. Kress ducked, sidestepped, and swung his bat low, slamming it into the guy's shin. A strangled yelp escaped the thug's lips as he toppled forward, but before he could hit the ground, Kress twisted his grip and brought the bat up in a brutal uppercut to his jaw, sending the man flying.
"Who's next?" Kress taunted, twirling the bat effortlessly in his hand.
Two thugs came at him from both sides. One swung a crowbar, the other a knife. Kress inhaled sharply, muscles tensing before he made his move.
He threw his bat.
It spun through the air like a curveball with impossible precision, striking the crowbar-wielding thug square in the ribs with enough force to send him staggering. The bat rebounded off him, arcing back toward Kress just in time for him to catch it and parry the knife aimed at his side.
'Baseball Physics is busted, and I love it.'
With a quick twist, Kress knocked the blade from his attacker's grasp and delivered a devastating blow to his gut, sending him wheezing to the floor.
The remaining thugs hesitated, doubt creeping into their eyes.
"You idiots!" Their boss snarled from the back, rage overtaking his earlier smugness. "He's just one guy! Stop standin' around and break him!"
Three more men rushed forward, trying to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.
But Kress didn't seem fazed. He just smirked.
Bad move.
The transmigrator kicked a fallen chair straight into the first guy's legs, tripping him up before slamming his bat across the second's temple. The third managed to get close, grabbing onto Kress's arm in an attempt to restrain him— only to get headbutted for his trouble.
As the dazed thug stumbled back, Kress tossed his bat up, letting it spin mid-air before catching it in a reverse grip and slamming it down onto his shoulder.
The resounding crack would make Bishop wince as he watched the guy go limp and hit the ground.
Kress gave everyone a once-over before flashing a smile. "So? Still up for negotiations?"
The owner of the establishment growled under his breath, eyes raging in fury as he took a step forward. Now that Kress got a good look, he wasn't just some arrogant and corrupt business owner. His build was stout, not from fat but from muscle. His bald head made his expression akin to a raging demon.
"Don't you know who I am? I am Toshiro Komagawa! The lieutenant of the Arichi Family! How dare a snot-nosed brat cause havoc in the great Hibiki Clan's business?!"
Brown gaze narrowed. So, he was connected to the Hibiki Clan.
But that Arichi surname... Why did it sound familiar...?
No— He can save that for later.
The dyed blonde transmigrator mentally shook his head. There was no time to get distracted.
"Thanks for the intro, old-timer," The transmigrator remained smiling, slinging his baseball bat around his shoulder. "Now that I know that you're from the Hibiki Clan, you're going to tell me all about them... Unless you want to be next in line to get your skull bashed?"
"You little...!"
Having enough of his bullshit, Toshiro ripped his well-tailored suit to reveal his glorious muscle. Behind his muscular back was the tattoo that perfectly fit his face— the ferocious figure of an Eastern ogre.
"You're dead!"
-MISSION ADDED-
[Ogre Takedown]
Defeat Toshiro Komagawa alone!
Rewards: 3500 Yakuza Points, Power Surge 3 skill, Large Reputation Increase
Hikaru shifted beside Kress, her eyes flickering toward him as if awaiting his command. She was ready to strike—ready to carve through the muscle-bound yakuza in front of them like a blade through silk.
But Kress lifted a hand, stopping her before she could act.
"Leave this one to me, Hikaru." His voice was calm, but there was an underlying steel behind his words. "Go check on Bishop and make sure the girls in this place are safe."
"Young Master—"
"I got this," Kress reassured her, twirling his bat with a lazy smirk. "Trust me."
For a second, Hikaru seemed ready to argue, but then she sighed, stepping back.
"Very well. Do not die, Young Master."
"Like hell I'd let some bald ogre kill me," Kress quipped, turning his full attention to Toshiro.
The yakuza lieutenant cracked his knuckles, veins bulging along his arms. "Cocky little punk. You think just 'cause you got a few lucky hits in on these weaklings, you can stand against me?!"
"Lucky?" Kress snorted. "Maybe. I've got skills, and you're about to get a firsthand lesson."
Toshiro didn't wait for another word.
With a roar, he lunged forward, moving faster than someone of his size had any right to. His fist came down like a hammer, aimed straight for Kress's skull. But the transmigrator had already moved.
Ducking under the blow, Kress sidestepped and swung his bat, aiming for the ribs. The solid THWACK echoed through the room as it connected, but—
Toshiro barely flinched. Instead, he grinned.
"Nice try."
Before Kress could retreat, Toshiro's massive hand shot out, grabbing him by the front of his jacket.
"Shit—!"
A second later, Kress was flying. The impact of crashing through a table rattled his bones, but he gritted his teeth, rolling onto his feet just as Toshiro came charging in again.
"Heavy bastard…" Kress cursed under his breath, wiping the corner of his mouth.
Toshiro had strength— brute, overwhelming strength— but that was all. If Kress tried to trade blows with him directly, he'd get flattened... which meant he just had to fight smarter.
His grip on the bat tightened as he felt the familiar sensation of Baseball Physics flow through him and into his baseball bat. Toshiro came in swinging. Kress ducked, twisting his body at the last second, and threw his bat at an impossible angle.
It curved, arcing through the air and striking the back of Toshiro's skull with a resounding crack.
The yakuza stumbled, but Kress wasn't done.
As soon as the bat rebounded off Toshiro's skull, Kress shifted his stance— Slugger backed away for the Thug to take the stage.
His movements loosened. He no longer carried himself like a slugger relying solely on power swings— his body moved with newfound adaptability, instincts sharpening as he analyzed everything in the room.
The furniture.
The broken glass.
The discarded ashtray.
Newfound weapons.
Toshiro barely had time to turn before Kress grabbed a nearby chair with one hand and hurled it straight into his gut. The chair splintered against the yakuza's rock-solid frame, but it did its job. The sheer force made Toshiro stagger back, arms flying up instinctively to shield himself.
Kress was already moving.
In an instant, he vaulted over the fallen table, snagging a beer bottle from a counter. Without hesitation, he smashed it against the side of Toshiro's face, shards of glass scattering in the air.
"GHH—YOU BASTARD—!"
Toshiro roared in rage, swinging wildly, but Kress had already ducked under his arm. His bat had just finished rebounding off the wall, and Kress caught it without even looking, seamlessly integrating the movement into his next attack.
Using the momentum, he spun on his heel, slamming the bat into the back of Toshiro's kneecap. The massive yakuza buckled, his knee hitting the floor.
Switching back to Slugger, he tossed the bat into the air, letting it flip end over end before catching it mid-spin— then brought it down in a two-handed overhead strike straight onto Toshiro's skull.
CRACK!
The entire room flinched at the sickening sound. Toshiro groaned, blood trickling from his scalp as he swayed. But he wasn't down yet. The bastard had insane endurance.
"Damn, you're one tough son of a bitch," Kress muttered, shaking his head before cracking a grin. "But I'm just getting started."
"You fight... like a damn rat...!" Toshiro's glare burned as he spat with venom.
"No, pal. I fight like a survivor."
Before Toshiro could move, Kress suddenly dropped his bat...
And jabbed his fingers straight into the yakuza's eyes.
"AAAAAH!"
Toshiro howled, recoiling in pain as he clutched his face. Kress bent down and picked up his bat once more, slamming into Toshiro's temple with a brutal swing.
The bulky man barely had time to process the movement before Kress kicked the fallen barstool at his legs, sending him sprawling backward.
But just as he was about to fall on his back, Kress was already in front of him, brown eyes glinting with unbridled violence, as his fist slammed against his nose, forcibly sending the man to the ground.
Silence filled the room.
Kress exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. "Damn. Guess he is a lieutenant after all."
Bishop let out a low whistle. "That was brutal. I love it."
Hikaru, having finished ensuring the girls were unharmed and knocking out the mafioso, returned to Kress's side, eyeing the downed yakuza before giving a satisfied nod.
"Good work, Young Master."
"Told you," He chuckled before glancing at Bishop. "I don't think that Toshiro guy will be waking up any time soon, so let's have a talk, shall we? Like... Your involvement in this soapland."
Bishop was quick to raise his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'll tell ya everything I know, but I have no part in this damn business!"
"Then what were you doing here?"
Bishop sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "To check it out and try to shut it down."
Kress arched a brow. "Really now?"
"I might be scummy, but I have some standards, kid," Bishop smirked, but there was an edge to his voice. "I deal in information, not ruining innocent lives. Blackmailing innocent women into this line of work? That's crossing the line."
Hikaru watched him carefully, her pink eyes narrowing. "And how exactly did you learn about this establishment?"
"Same way I always do—connections." Bishop shrugged. "I heard whispers about a new soapland popping up in the Blacklight District, and at first, I figured it was just another joint trying to cash in. But then my contacts told me who was backing it."
"The Hibiki Clan," Kress muttered.
"Bingo," Bishop tapped the side of his temple. "I don't know if Chairman Hibiki was involved in this particular business, but I heard that it was primarily Toshiro Komagawa's idea. Word was, he set up this place with Almata's money and muscle, but he didn't recruit staff the usual way. No hiring, no contracts— just good old-fashioned blackmail."
"Despicable..." The assassin muttered darkly, and Bishop nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. And once I heard about that part, I figured I'd try to talk some sense into the guy," Bishop admitted. "Didn't work out too well, obviously."
"So you only found out about this place recently?" Kress exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dyed-blonde hair.
"Same time as your little bodyguard over there."
Kress studied Bishop carefully, trying to gauge if he was lying. Eventually, the transmigrator just sighed.
"So we've confirmed Almata's financially backing the clan's businesses. Great."
"Seems like it," Bishop said, crossing his arms. "Which means you've got a real mess on your hands, kid. This might not be the last time they'd try something like this either. If word gets out that someone messed with their business in the Blacklight District, they might just set up something new and send someone much stronger than Komagawa as the owner."
Before Kress could respond, a soft, hesitant voice cut into the conversation.
"Um... Excuse me."
The three turned their attention to one of the women standing near the doorway. She looked nervous, wringing her hands together, but there was a quiet determination in her eyes. The other women who had been blackmailed into working here stood behind her, their faces a mix of uncertainty and desperation.
"What... what should we do now?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Even if Komagawa's out of the picture, we have nowhere else to go."
"You mean you want to keep working here?" Kress frowned.
"No, it's not that! It's just... even if we were forced into this, we were still going to be paid generously. For people like us—living in the slums of the Blacklight District— this was the only way we could feed ourselves. Some of us have families to take care of..."
A heavy silence followed.
Kress hated this. Hated that these women had been put into a situation where they had to choose between their dignity and survival. He could beat down every thug, every corrupt yakuza, but that wouldn't change the fact that people were still suffering.
Even if he shut this place down today, what was stopping another bastard like Komagawa from pulling the same shit tomorrow?
"What if we kept the business running?"
Kress and Hikaru turned sharply to Bishop, who had his arms crossed, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"What?" Kress narrowed his eyes. "You just said you wanted to shut it down."
"I do—at least the part where people get forced into it," Bishop clarified. "But if we take over, we can turn this place into something legit. The girls can work if they choose to, and they'll actually be protected from scumbags looking to exploit them."
"And let me guess, you'd be the one running it?"
"Naturally," Bishop smirked.
Hikaru stepped forward, her expression unreadable but her voice sharp. "How do we know we can trust you?"
Bishop's smirk faded. He was quiet for a moment. Then, without a word, he reached into his jacket. Hikaru tensed, her hand hovering over her weapon. But instead of the orbal gun he once used, Bishop pulled out a small knife.
Then, to Kress's shock, the information broker knelt down, holding his left hand over his knee. He placed the blade against the base of his pinky and took a slow, deep breath.
Kress stiffened. He wasn't sure if he was more surprised that Bishop knew of the yakuza's loyalty oath— or that he was actually about to go through with it.
"I, Bishop, pledge my loyalty to Keisuke Hibiki. If my word is false, then let my body bear the weight of my failure—"
"Oi, hold the hell up!"
Kress shot forward, gripping Bishop's wrist before he could press the blade down.
Bishop blinked up at him, looking mildly amused. "Huh. Thought you'd let me do it."
"I don't know or care right now how you know my actual name," Kress scowled. "But I'm not some clan boss demanding fingers for oaths. Hell, I don't even consider myself an actual yakuza!"
"You're missing the point, kid." Bishop's smirk returned, but there was something genuine beneath it. "I may be a rat, but even rats can have principles and codes. If you don't trust me, I'll prove it to ya."
"Just... who the hell are you?"
The sound of deliberate, measured footsteps echoed nearby, cutting off anything Bishop was going to say. Everyone turned their heads toward the source.
A short, elderly woman stepped into view, adjusting her glasses with a calm, almost lazy movement. Her wrinkled face bore a perpetual scowl as if she was always seconds away from scolding someone.
Kress blinked in recognition. "Wait a damn second..."
"Oi, enough with the dramatics," the old woman scoffed, glaring at Bishop before giving Kress a once-over. "Hmph. Thought you'd be taller."
"Eh?"
Ignoring him entirely, the old woman turned her gaze toward the gathered women. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose before shaking her head. "Tch. Damn fools. Always causing trouble when I'm not looking."
"Great. Just what we needed... The hag's here." Bishop let out a dramatic sigh and slumped forward.
Kress and Hikaru both turned to him, confused. Bishop smirked, though it was laced with a hint of resignation.
"You don't know, do you? Meet the real boss of the Blacklight District— Grandma Gin."
"WHAT?!" Kress felt his eyes bulge out before snapping his head toward the elderly woman. "The same grandma who owns that kiosk in Old Town? That Grandma Gin?!"
"Yup."
"You're kidding..."
"Wish I was."
Gin let out a low huff, crossing her arms. "I don't lounge around in the underworld as much as I used to. I prefer to run my damn shop in peace. But every now and then, some idiot like Komagawa pops up, and I have to step in to remind people who keep things from spiraling into a complete shitshow."
Kress looked between her and Bishop. He could tell from the latter's completely lackadaisical attitude that this wasn't some sudden revelation.
Hikaru, however, remained skeptical. "If you truly held influence here, how did a place like this get established without your knowledge?"
"I'm old, girl. I ain't got eyes everywhere, and I don't micromanage every damn fool trying to make a quick mira." Gin exhaled sharply. "But I do step in when things get too out of hand. And blackmailing women into this mess?" That ain't happenin' in my district."
"So? What now?" The dyed-blonde teen crossed his arms. "You gonna shut this place down?"
"Not quite." Gin adjusted her glasses, her expression unreadable. "I'll be taking over this joint."
Bishop just sighed in defeat. "Should've seen that coming."
"Seriously?" Kress couldn't help but say as Gin rolled her eyes.
"You think I'm gonna let Almata keep a foothold in my district? Hell no. But these girls still need jobs, and like hell I'm gonna let 'em end up in a worse situation." She jabbed a finger at the building. "This place ain't gonna be a damn soapland anymore. I'll turn it into a pub. Somewhere they can work and actually be treated like people, not commodities."
"A pub?" The black-haired assassin raised a brow.
"A fine one at that," Gin smirked. "It'll be a proper joint— drinks, food, live entertainment. A place people wanna go to, not some sleazy backroom operation."
Kress was still wrapping his head around the situation. "You sure about this? I mean, you own a kiosk. This is—"
"Ain't my first business, kid," Gin cut him off. "Been in this game longer than you've been alive, and I ain't letting a kid like you take any responsibility or have any involvement when you have your whole life ahead of ya, even if you are the son of Torin Hibiki."
Kress tensed at the way she casually dropped his father's name like it was just another piece of useless trivia.
Hikaru's eyes sharpened, subtly shifting her stance beside Kress as if preparing for any sudden developments.
Meanwhile, Gin remained utterly unfazed, watching him with the weary gaze of someone who had seen far too much in her lifetime.
"So you do know who I am." Kress exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to relax.
"Hmph. Of course I do." Gin adjusted her glasses. "I lived a good chunk of my life in the underworld. But I don't give a damn about your old man or whatever baggage you're carrying. Just don't bring your family drama into my district, and we won't have problems."
Kress held her gaze for a moment before scoffing and shaking his head.
"Wasn't planning to."
"Good."
Gin turned her attention back to the group of women still standing by the doorway, watching the conversation unfold with hesitant eyes. "Alright, girls. You've got two options. You can stay and work under me, or you can take the money Komagawa promised and get the hell out. I ain't forcing nobody to stay."
Murmurs broke out among the women as they exchanged glances. Some of them looked relieved, others uncertain. One of them— a younger girl who looked barely in her twenties— stepped forward hesitantly.
"If… if we stay, you're really gonna keep things above board?" She asked. "No shady dealings? No... other expectations?"
"What do I look like, some two-bit pimp?" Gin gave her a flat look. "I don't run businesses like that. You work, you get paid, and you're protected. End of story."
"Well... If that's the case, I'd rather stay."
"Me too."
"Same here."
One by one, most of the women nodded in agreement, the weight of their situation lifting from their shoulders. Gin would gesture everyone out of the area to work out the details of their new work. Before she would leave as well, the elderly woman shot Kress a look.
Anything else you wanna say before I officially take this place off your hands, kid?"
"…Nah," He shook his head, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Just make sure this place doesn't turn into a shitshow again."
Gin smirked. "I'll handle it. You just keep your nose clean, kid."
Kress snorted. That was unlikely. The three of them watched them all leave as Bishop stretched, rolling his shoulders.
"Welp, that was fun. Glad I didn't have to cut off a finger today."
"You were serious about that?" Kress gave him a side-eye.
"Who knows?" The information broker adjusted his round glasses and grinned. "I'm gonna assume you kids are gonna send the Almata guys to the bracers or police?"
"Yes," Hikaru nodded, turning to her master. "I have already interrogated them beforehand. They were just throwaway fodder sent as security for the soapland."
"Which leaves Komagawa..." The transmigrator's gaze went to the unconscious lieutenant. He checked his Xipha and then turned to his maid. "Can I leave the interrogation to you, Hikaru? I want to talk to Bishop a little longer."
"Of course, Young Master."
"Me?" The information broker blinked, pointing at himself. "Why?"
"Just come with me." He shot him a familiar glare that caused the man to flinch. "Let's go."
Despite his grumbling, he followed.
The two men stood on a rooftop overlooking the neon-lit sprawl of the Blacklight District. The scent of cheap liquor, cigarette smoke, and fried street food filled the air, blending into the ever-present hum of city life below.
Kress leaned against the railing, gazing down at the streets as if trying to piece together a puzzle only he could see. Bishop, meanwhile, stretched with a lazy yawn before shoving his hands into his coat pockets.
"So," The information broker started, tilting his head. "You dragged me all the way up here for a heart-to-heart? Didn't peg you for the sentimental type, kid."
Kress ignored the tease and simply said, "I need you to be my eyes in the Blacklight District."
For a moment, Bishop didn't respond. Kress expected some snarky remark, maybe even an outright refusal.
Instead, the older man simply narrowed his eyes and asked, "Why me?"
"You wouldn't have done something as reckless as a yakuza loyalty oath— or at least attempted to— if you were just some ordinary information broker." His gaze sharpened. "You know who I am. And yet, you were willing to go that far for a guy with no real chance of succeeding his father."
"Heh. You've got a sharp eye, kid."
"I don't need flattery. I need an answer."
The smirk didn't fade, but there was something more contemplative behind it now. Bishop walked over to the railing, leaning against it with a thoughtful hum.
"I won't lie to you, Keisuke," He finally spoke, voice lacking its usual playful edge. "I am a scummy info broker. I do a lot of things to make mira, and not all of them are respectable. But there are lines I won't cross."
He flicked his lighter open, letting the flame dance for a moment before snapping it shut.
"I've seen plenty of power struggles in Calvard's underworld. Old gangs fading out, new ones taking their place. People clawing their way up, only to be torn down just as fast. But you?" Bishop turned his head slightly, eyeing Kress with something almost resembling curiosity. "You're different. You don't move like someone aiming to climb the ladder— you move like someone trying to rip the whole damn thing down."
Kress didn't deny it.
"So, you want me to be your eyes, huh?" Bishop chuckled at his silence. "Keeping tabs on Almata? The Hibiki Clan? Or are you looking for something more?"
"Right now, I just need to know what I'm up against." Kress sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I don't have the resources, the manpower, or the reach to get reliable intel on everything going on in the underworld. That's where you come in."
Bishop rubbed his chin, mulling it over. "And what do I get out of this?"
"My trust," Kress answered firmly. His gaze held no trace of a high school student but one befitting a yakuza leader. "And protection."
"Protection, huh? From who?"
"From whoever Almata sends next. You pissed off a lieutenant tonight, and once word gets out about this little incident, you might just have a target on your back. Not to mention, you put a dent in the Hibiki Clan's business. Someone's going to come looking for payback."
The information broker let out a low whistle. "Damn. When you put it like that, it almost sounds like I need to accept your offer."
"It's not about needing to," Kress countered, his grip tightening on the railing. "It's about survival. You don't strike me as the type to roll over and let yourself get crushed."
"True enough." He snorted, flicking his lighter open and shut again. "Oh, to hell with it! I was ready to cut off my pinky for ya, so I might as well accept this deal of yours."
"Just don't make me regret this," Kress huffed but managed a grin. "You've seen me bash skulls."
"Don't remind me."
The streets of the Blacklight District faded behind him as Kress made his way to Old Town. He checked his Xipha. Agnes had responded earlier, letting him know she had just returned to the office with Van.
Good. At least she didn't get into any trouble on her first day.
When the transmigrator had finally returned to the surface, the sun had begun to set as he went up to the second floor of Montmart.
"Yo—" Entering the door, Kress entered, only to spot an unfamiliar-looking girl with indigo blue sitting across from Agnes and Van. "...Who's the kid?"
"Kress! Oh, um, well..."
"You could say she's our next client." Van would actually give a proper response, groaning as he rubbed the back of his neck.
The pipsqueak scratched her cheek awkwardly and laughed, "Um, hello? Are you Mr. Arkride and Ms. Agnes's friend?"
"I'm Agnes's, but I'm more of an acquaintance to Arkride." Kress clarified, walking over before catching his reflection, quickly running his hands all over his hair as it returned to its usual messy style. "I'm Kress. Nice to meet you, kid."
"Oh, likewise!" She beamed before introducing herself, "I'm Ferida Al-Fayed! You can call me Feri!"
"Are we going to gloss over how he fixed his hair in front of everyone? Again?"
"Ahaha..."
Kress chose to ignore the two. "I just came to check up on Agnes. I'll wait for her downstairs, so you guys can continue to talk business."
"Heh. Look at you acting like a worried boyfriend."
Kress rolled his eyes at Van's teasing. "I can't believe you just said that with a straight face."
"Hey, I call it how I see it."
"I appreciate the concern, Kress, but I promise I'm doing fine." Agnes turned a shade pinker but quickly recovered.
The transmigrator gave her a once-over, noting the lack of any signs of exhaustion or stress. She really did seem to be handling things well. "Alright, alright. Just don't push yourself too hard."
"I won't," The blonde reassured him with a smile.
Just as he turned to leave, the little girl— Feri— perked up again. "U-Um! If you're a friend of Ms. Agnes's, does that mean you're helping out with the request too?"
Kress paused, glancing back. "What kind of help are we talking about first?"
"For a missing person case." The Spriggan provided an answer, leaning against his seat. "We kinda have a lead already, and we'll be following it up tomorrow morning. You coming?"
"I'll think about it." With that, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned toward the door. "Anyway, I'll be downstairs. Let me know when you're done, Agnes."
As soon as the door shut behind him, Feri leaned closer to Agnes, smiling with eyes that practically sparkled with curiosity. "Sooo... are you two dating?"
Agnes choked on air. Van simply chuckled.
Just a little tidbit of Kress's Xipha cover. From Daybreak 2 and Kai, every party member has their own unique Xipha cover designs (unless you're part of an organization like Bracer Guild and Aramis) besides their character color schemes. Kress currently uses the Aramis Xipha cover (essentially the school emblem) but it's in black and gold.
Anyways, a small segment for Kress's new skills that hopes to prevent bloating in the main plot unless it's a really major and plot-related.
KRESS'S SKILL CORNER:
-Cunning Thug-
Enhances adaptability in combat, allowing the use of improvised weapons, environmental objects, and dirty tactics. Attacks with unconventional methods deal increased damage and stagger enemies more easily.
-Baseball Physics-
Grants mastery over the baseball bat, enabling trick shots like boomerang throws and multi-target strikes. Attacks with a baseball bat have increased power and precision.
-Power Surge-
Increases the user's physical combat power.