Super Fighting Tokyo.

The boy murmured a sigh, looking around at the large areas of damaged lawn and walls, his expression somewhat embarrassed.

He looked at Shiramu Cheng at the other end of the corridor and said, "Sorry for making such a mess here."

"It's alright, in fact, this is better."

Shiraki waved his hand dismissively, then put his hands on his hips and laughed at Baki, "Speaking of which, Baki, you're really capable!"

"...Yes, indeed."

Baki's expression was somber as he said softly, "I was actually looking forward to a deadly duel between Miyamoto Musashi and Pico, where weapons could be used."

"But after meeting Mr. Benbu, I suddenly had a different opinion."

"If we want to fight Miyamoto Musashi, neither Pico nor we have done it right before; our approach was not practical enough."

Baki cracked his neck and put his hands in his pockets. "Brother Shiraki, whether it's you, me, or anyone else, we should all rethink how to face Miyamoto Musashi..."

After saying that, Baki asked if he needed help cleaning up the place, then waved goodbye.

"..."

Seeing this, Mitsuyoshi Muishi did not linger.

He raised his hands and slapped them onto Bai Mucheng's shoulders, helping him relax his shoulder muscles, and then shook him vigorously.

"Okay! I should go now, I have an appointment for chiropractic today!"

Mushi smiled faintly and reminded him, "Acheng, no matter how you want to fight Miyamoto Musashi, don't forget to tell me about your friend!"

"……Um."

Shiraki nodded in agreement.

As they were about to part, Mushi suddenly remembered something else, "Speaking of which, Miyamoto Musashi is somewhat similar to me, so I can guess..."

"He must be very distressed that he can't fight against Pike, and he might even be unable to sleep."

Bai Mucheng was taken aback. "You can guess in such detail? Really?"

Mitsuyo Koishi, with a self-reliant expression, said, "I wasn't exaggerating!"

……

……

As someone who is "of the same kind" in a certain sense, Mitsuyo Koishi does indeed understand Miyamoto Musashi.

That day, in the evening.

Tokugawa Residence.

Miyamoto Musashi sat cross-legged in his room.

He didn't light any lamps, not even the candles prepared for him, letting the pale red glow of the setting sun shine through the traditional Japanese windows.

"..."

Musashi closed his eyes and concentrated, but he could never truly feel at ease.

He was repeatedly recalling in his mind what it would be like to chop Pi Ke with a real knife, or even to make continuous slashes "without a knife"...

How will the battle turn out?

Did Pico bleed to death? Or was he eaten by Pico?

The answer will only be known after the "cut" is made!

But it's too late to kill him now...

Musashi closed his eyes and murmured, "Pikachu, you may be a monster, but you are not a samurai."

"Hmm, my mind is in turmoil, this won't do..."

"..."

The afterglow of the setting sun changed from pale red to fiery red, until it finally faded into darkness.

Musashi sat there quietly, all by himself.

suddenly--

He opened his eyes, stood up, opened the door and walked out, stepping onto the bamboo leather shoes outside the house, heading towards the Tokugawa family's gate.

As they passed by the courtyard, they happened to encounter Tokugawa Mitsunari, who was drinking tea inside.

"Um……?"

Tokugawa was taken aback and asked curiously, "Musashi, are you going out?"

Musashi nodded, pondered for a moment, and then smiled helplessly, "I want to go find Shiraki."

Tokugawa paused, then suddenly realized what was happening and tensed up. "You're going to find Shiraki? You're going to fight him? Miyamoto Musashi versus Shiraki Jo?! You're going to kill him?!"

The old man was spouting a whole bunch of nonsense.

"Um~~~~"

Musashi looked conflicted and tilted his head. "I can't really say whether to fight or not. Maybe I'll just take action directly?"

"Perhaps, but I can't give an answer right now."

Musashi lowered his gaze and said with a faint smile, "As expected, I'm still far from having a clear and tranquil mind; I can't even figure out something like this!"

Tokugawa felt a chill run down his spine.

He knew very well that the more Miyamoto Musashi said this, the more likely it was that a fight would break out!

Seeing that Tokugawa hadn't replied for a long time, Musashi stared in confusion, "What? Even though it's late, can't I go see Shiraki?"

"Ah...no, not really..."

Tokugawa couldn't give a reason to refuse, so he could only bite the bullet and agree, "Alright, I'll go too."

Musashi raised an eyebrow and nodded in satisfaction. "Hmm, that's fine too."

"..."

The two walked out of the courtyard gate one after the other.

But it was getting late, and walking to the Fighting Spirit Martial Arts Hall would be too tiring, so Tokugawa called and asked someone to send a car to pick them up.

But at this very moment—

"Well?!"

Tokugawa suddenly bumped into Musashi and sat down on the ground. It turned out that Musashi had suddenly stopped and stood in the middle of the courtyard gate.

"...!?"

Tokugawa looked up.

Just a few dozen meters away on the other side of the street, a burly, eerie figure stood, holding a bottle of liquor in his hand and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Is he a drunkard?

Tokugawa squinted and, using the last light before nightfall, made out the man's face.

This is the main collection.

He had been waiting here for a long time.

Chapter 685 The Despicable Headquarters

"This... headquarters!?"

Tokugawa stared wide-eyed at the figure that had been waiting at the end of the street for a long time.

He was a robust, middle-aged man wearing a knitted sweater, a loose-fitting coat, medium-length hair, and a sparse stubble.

—This section is stored here.

That's me!!

At this moment, the man was carrying a large bottle of sake in his left hand and had a cigarette in his mouth, seemingly indulging in both smoking and drinking, appearing more eccentric and casual than usual.

However, the imposing aura emanating from the headquarters stunned even the well-informed Tokugawa Mitsunari.

Is that really... that O-headquarters Izou?

Although Tokugawa had prepared himself, he was still shocked. It really was Honbu Izo himself!

He's so different from how he is as a "jiu-jitsu practitioner"...

"..."

"Hmm~~~~~?"

Musashi opened his tiger-like eyes wide and, using the dark red glow of the setting sun, looked at Honbu Izou from head to toe, his expression slightly puzzled.

"Huh? Is it... a ninja?"

Musashi finally recognized the face and realized it was the "practitioner" who had stopped him from fighting Yujiro Hanma a few days ago.

"Honbu Izou... right?"

Musashi still remembered the name, and even smiled faintly as he spoke, "Hmm, Tokugawa, you've really prepared everything thoroughly."

Upon hearing this, Tokugawa Mitsunari was even more puzzled. "Wait... huh? What?"

"..."

Before Tokugawa could speak, Motobu Izou, who was at the other end of the street, suddenly made a move.

He slowly took a sip of sake, but instead of swallowing it, he tilted his head back and spat it out, just like he had done in the park before.

"puff!"

The last rays of the setting sun, along with the wine droplets, fell upon Honbu Izo, as if draping him in the darkness of night.

Night fell.

Click.