The area was quiet, the storage container lined in crooked rows under the pale moonlight. Jin sat alone on a folding chair, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. His hand was whole again — every finger regrown. Smoke curled lazily into the air as if mocking the tension that hung around him.
From the terrace of a nearby building, Shikaku watched through binoculars. His lips tightened. Has Jin lost his mind?
His thoughts drifted back. To the old Jin — the one in Muto's office, who tried to solve problems with words instead of blood. The Jin who had once sworn to maintain peace at all costs. But that man was gone. What sat below was soone who drank, smoked . That boy has been lost .
They've changed him, Shikaku thought bitterly. The man who wouldn't take a sip of liquor on his deathbed is now drowning himself in smoke.
For a mont, regret tugged at him. Maybe I should've talked to Muto. Maybe I should've let Jin walk away that night with the girl. Maybe things would've been different.
Sick bastard change the life of a bright boy .
Movent snapped him back. Engines rumbled. From the far end of the yard, vehicles began to pour in — black cars, bikes.
Shikaku's heart sank. He told Jin not to do this.
Engines cut. n with guns dismounted and fanned out, forming a cordon around a sleek black SUV. The guards aligned in perfect discipline, forming a line halfway between Jin and the car.
The SUV's door opened. A man in traditional Japanese clothing stepped out, his presence commanding instant silence. Every guard bowed sharply, ninety degrees.
Jin didn't move. He took another drag, cigarette tip flaring red.
The man approached, each step deliberate. His voice was deep, resonant.
"My na is Oishi Manji."
Jin flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. "Jin Kazama."
Oishi's eyes narrowed. "Oh, you foolish one. You, who have not seen the world's weight, will now pay the price of your ignorance."
Jin rose slowly to his feet, rolling his shoulders. ", old man. Are you sure you want to do this? kill a innocent man . Technically, it was your clan that picked a fight with ."
"Doesn't matter," Oishi said, his voice like stone. "In this world, might makes right."
"Then doesn't that an I was right to kill Zero?" Jin's grin . "I was the stronger one."
Oishi's expression didn't change. "Yes. By strength alone, you were right. But that brat bore the Manji na and that is mighter . Had he not strayed from his path… had he mastered his sword's energy… he would have been the next head of our clan. Tonight, in his na, you will witness the true weight of the Manji."
His hand slid to his sheath. Steel hissed as he drew his blade. "On your stance, boy."
Jin's smirk faded. His eyes sharpened. This man isn't here for show. One mistake and I'm dead.
The night air thickened. On one side: Jin. On the other: Oishi, with the Manji clan arrayed behind him. And above, perched on a lamppost, a lone bat observed in silence.
Jin moved first. He drew his pistol in a blur and emptied the magazine, muzzle flash painting the dark in staccato bursts.
Steel flashed — Oishi's blade cut every bullet from the air, sparks scattering.
"It isn't ti to play with toys , boy." Oishi said coldly.
Jin tossed the gun aside. His claws tore from his arm with a sickening rip of flesh. His body hardened, skin tightening like stone. His voice was low. "Unbreakable Form."
He lunged.
Gravel crunched under Jin's feet as he launched forward, claws extended. His right arm swept in a brutal horizontal slash aid for Oishi's ribs.
CLANG! Oishi's blade snapped up in ti, the edge catching the claw with a tallic screech. Sparks scattered like fireflies.
Jin didn't pause. He shifted his weight, pivoting on his left foot, and drove his knee forward. Oishi slid back half a step, twisting his hips, and the knee only grazed the fold of his hakama. In the sa motion, his sword flicked down, carving a shallow groove into the earth as he redirected Jin's montum away.
But Jin pressed again. His left claw shot upward in a diagonal slash, fast and savage. Oishi angled his sword down, steel sliding along hardened flesh. The force jolted through his wrist, his forearm rattling under the impact.
Jin grinned, feeling the resistance. He twisted his wrist mid-strike, forcing more weight into the clash. The ground cracked beneath Oishi's sandals.
Oishi's jaw tightened. His foot slid back, gravel scattering. This boy's strength… unnatural.
Jin didn't relent. He leaned low, coiled like a beast, and thrust forward with a flurry — right claw, left claw, low sweep, rising slash. Each attack tore the air, leaving faint arcs of pressure.
Oishi's sword beca a line of water. He pivoted his stance tight, blade flicking side to side, intercepting each strike at the last possible instant , years of experience heling its master. Steel rang out in rapid succession — clash, clash, clash, clash! The rhythm was sharp, unbroken, his movents minimal but exact.
Still, Jin's raw power shoved him back, step by step. With each impact, shock burst through the gravel, leaving small craters where Oishi's feet landed.
Finally, Oishi's aura surged. A faint shimr of Touki coated his fra, invisible armor wrapping around muscle and bone. The air thickened, pressing down on the onlookers.
Jin froze mid-swipe, a grin spreading across his face. "Getting serious old man ." His claws flexed, excitent sparking in his eyes.
The tempo shifted. Jin lunged again — faster, sharper. His right claw slashed low, Oishi blocked downward. Jin instantly twisted, his left claw arcing for the throat.
Oishi's blade turned like a hinge, deflecting upward in a perfect parry. Jin's strike missed by inches, gouging a deep scar across a stell container .
The veteran's counter ca like lightning — a thrust straight for Jin's sternum. Jin jerked aside, feeling the blade graze his ribs, fabric splitting and sparks flying no injury .
He retaliated with a wild backhand. Oishi caught it on the flat of his blade, the impact create distance between both n . Dust billowed, gravel skittering across the courtyard.
They circled now. Oishi's shoulders rose and fell in controlled breaths, his sword low and steady. Jin crouched, chest heaving.
Then Oishi spoke, voice low, asured:
"Boy… you are good. I see now how Zero fell to you. But there is a difference between a talented swordsman… and a master."
His blade glowed faintly blue, humming with condensed energy. The air vibrated, the surrounding itself trembling.
Jin's eyes narrowed. His hardened claws twitched, a hint of unease breaking through the grin. "That's… sword energy."
IN a instant .
Oishi crouched, legs tense, muscles swelling under Touki being concentrated on legs . Veins bulged. Then, in a blur too sharp for the eye, he vanished.
The strike ca instantly — one upward diagonal slash. SHING! A flash of blue.
Jin twisted, raising his forearm, but the force tore through his guard. Blood burst .
Before he could recover — a second cut dropped down in a cross fashion .
A spray of red fanned out, stark against the pale gravel.
Jin staggered, breath caught, eyes wild.
Oishi straightened, blade humming at his side, calm as still water.
Jin staggered. For the first ti in the battle , he bled — two deep gashes carved across his chest. He collapsed forward, face hitting dirt. His healing factor stirred, flesh trying desperately to knit… but the sword's energy burned through, halting the process.
Oishi stood over him, blade pointed down. His breath was heavy, but his stance unbroken.
"Suffer… for taking the heir of the Manji Clan."
He turned, staggering slightly as the toll of his Touki pressed against his body. An assistant — a young woman — rushed to his side to support him.
Oishi leaned on her. His voice was tired, yet tinged with respect. "That boy… talented. Had he been born into the Manji, the sky would have been his limit."
"Master, you didn't even suffer injury," the woman said softly.
"Don't be fooled," Oishi muttered. "I couldn't cut him without sword energy. If he had awakened his own Touki… I'd be the one lying dead. Look at — just channeling it this long has drained . Old age spares no one."
"Grandpa," she whispered, eyes wet. "If only that fool Zero hadn't lost his way, none of this would've happened."
Oishi managed a faint smile. "Losses are part of life. But you, Mira… you are the clan's future. Look ahead."
With her support, he limped back toward the SUV, certain Jin was dead.
But as his hand touched the car door, a voice rasped behind him.
"Old man…"
===========
The room of the Occult Research Club was unusually quiet after the fight. Rias' peerage sat alongside Sona's, and even Grayfia is present . The tension hung in the air.
Rias leaned back in her chair, eyes wide with genuine awe. So strong… so stubbornly human, yet… Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she sighed dreamily.
"Ahh, I really want him in my peerage… Grayfia-nee-sama, can I resurrect Jin?, the council didn't forbid us to do that right ? "
Her voice had that spoiled-princess lilt she often slipped into, half teasing, half serious.
Grayfia's silver gaze flicked to her, expression unreadable as always.
"…I have no comnt on this, Rias-sama."
Rias puffed out her cheeks slightly, but before she could retort, Sona adjusted her glasses, her voice calm but tinged with a rare spark of interest.
"Watching that fight… even I would want him in my peerage. A talent like that is rare, and I could use soone of his caliber."
Rias' head snapped toward her rival, her tone sharpening in an instant.
"Oi, hands off! I found him first."
Their eyes locked. sparks flew.
"That doesn't an he's yours," Sona countered coolly, her words as asured as her stare.
The verbal duel might have escalated, but Akeno broke in, her voice dripping with amusent. She leaned forward with that trademark teasing smile, eyes glinting.
"The real question is… would he even accept being resurrected as a devil? Rias, you told yourself—he sees the peerage system as… slavery."
Her tone was soft, but the truth cut through the room like a blade.
Rias froze, her lips parting but no words following. Sona, too, lowered her gaze, silent. Both girls knew the sting of that reality—wanting sothing they might never be able to claim.
The silence stretched until Kiba, who had been unusually thoughtful, finally spoke. His voice was respectful, curious.
"Grayfia-sama… that old man who fought Jin… who was he?"
All eyes turned toward the silver-haired maid. Grayfia's tone was calm, authoritative.
"Oishi Manji. Once a master swordsman who reached high-class status in his youth. Ti, however unlike us devil , ti is rciless—old age has taken its toll on him , and his power has regressed."
Kiba's hands clenched on his knees, his knightly pride stirred.
"If I were to face him… who would win?"
The question hung heavy in the air. Even Rias and Sona leaned forward slightly, waiting.
Grayfia t his eyes, unflinching.
"In pure swordplay… Oishi would defeat you."
Kiba inhaled sharply, his pride wounded but his respect piqued.
"…I see. And yet… Jin was able to match him."
Grayfia allowed herself the faintest pause, her voice carrying more weight than usual.
"Yes. That Jin… is truly a remarkable fighter."
The room fell utterly silent. For Grayfia—known for her restraint, for never wasting praise—to speak those words… it was no small thing.
Everyone understood.
And in that silence, the image of Jin's fight lingered in their minds, sharper than any blade
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