Volume 5 Chapter 21 Touma Yukinojo Assassination Plan 7️⃣： Dragon And Tiger Clash
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Mouyon was a man born and raised in Kowloon.
His real name was Mauyon.
The nickname “Mouyon” sounded similar, but it was never meant to be kind. It came from his large build and the slow, dull way he used to act.
That all changed when he was five.
A martial artist, watching him get bullied without mercy for his size, decided to step in and teach him Kung Fu.
What followed could only be called natural talent.
Mauyon’s big frame and simple honesty worked perfectly with the discipline.
He followed every instruction with full heart and energy—and for the first time in his life, people praised him.
He thought, Ah, this is what I’m worth.
From that moment, he devoted himself to martial arts.
Over time, he became a feared shadow lurking deep in the darkness of Kowloon Walled City.
The name “Mouyon,” once a joke, became a whisper of fear.
That era should’ve ended with the Hong Kong handover.
The fortress city was meant to become safer than the world around it.
But Mouyon never left.
Ironically, his own strength kept him trapped.
He couldn’t return to the bright streets of Umeda.
Over thirty years passed.
His fists, once raised only to kill, were now being used again.
With all his life, and beyond it, he faced the strongest enemy he had ever known.
* * *
”Shaaa!”
A young man with grass-green hair snapped forward, releasing a sharp punch with a fierce breath.
Mouyon responded with his own blow.
”Iyaa!”
Tiger Claw—Fujau.
Five sharpened fingers spread wide, not into a fist. A technique that could shred flesh and kill with even the lightest touch.
But that strike was blocked.
The enemy’s body, wrapped in inner energy—spirit energy (reiki)—turned it away like dragon scales.
And like Mouyon’s, the young man’s hand was also a weapon. Sharp. Deadly. Made for killing.
But Mouyon was no longer living.
A Kyonshi—a corpse.
He couldn’t control spirit energy anymore.
Only his lingering soul remained.
And against this living dragon’s power, it wasn’t enough.
Their hands clashed, both pressing at vital points.
Pressure surged in that moment.
”────!!”
Before the claws could tear through flesh, the young man’s palm struck.
A flash of lightning burst from it—pure, refined qi.
It pierced Mouyon’s chest like a thunderbolt.
He was blown backward, flying meters through the air.
But for just a moment, the lightning brought a flicker of life to his hollow soul.
”Shaaaa──!”
The young man rolled and dodged.
He sprang back to his feet, his eyes finally sharp.
”Huh.”
He saw it.
For the first time in a long while, with his own eyes.
The enemy stood in the light, shining brighter than the sun.
Spirit energy poured from him like a blazing aura.
His master was shouting something from nearby, voice sharp.
But Mouyon—no, the zombie—didn’t care.
That command matched what he wanted.
He moved freely.
And that alone stopped the young man in place.
(Did I wake something I shouldn’t have?)
Naoshi’s heart tensed.
The useless one—this corpse—now gave off a presence that felt different.
He hadn’t dropped his guard.
But he had been excited.
Excited to fight someone strong.
He understood it.
The way they moved, the way they clashed.
It felt like… facing himself.
”Shaaa!”
”Nahmen!”
Naoshi launched a front kick.
It slammed toward Mouyon with heavy force.
But Mouyon’s elbow struck back at just the right moment, like he’d seen the attack before it came.
”Guuu!”
Naoshi grunted as the elbow sank into his side.
He staggered half a step, but his eyes never left Mouyon.
The claws came down—fast, heavy, like an execution blade.
But Naoshi moved first.
He twisted low and thrust his hand forward.
His sharpened fingers sliced past the corpse’s forehead, carving a red line across the pale skin.
Blood sprayed—no, not blood. Something thinner. Faded. Almost like mist.
Both fighters froze.
Their arms hung in midair.
Breath caught in their throats.
An eerie stillness settled in the empty space between them, filled only with sharp gazes and killing intent.
Naoshi’s eyes twitched upward.
A square of sky—framed by the broken concrete walls above.
Blue.
So clear it didn’t seem real.
A white line cut across it, drawn by the roar of a jet disappearing far overhead.
He blinked once.
And then Mouyon’s eyes followed, rising slowly toward the same patch of sky.
They saw it together.
The sky was the same as before.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter.
It stayed blue through all of it.
Two boys.
One from Umeda.
One from Kowloon.
Different worlds, different times.
And yet, they had chosen the same path.
To become strong.
Maybe it was fate.
Maybe it was the only choice they had.
But it brought them here.
Their fists moved again—without hesitation.
Skill danced with fury.
Strikes cut through wind.
Spirit energy crackled, lighting up the shadows.
”Shaaa!”
Naoshi roared as he stepped in, the floor trembling beneath his feet.
Mouyon swung his clawed hand in reply, air hissing from the pressure.
Naoshi smiled—just for a second.
That was enough.
Mouyon didn’t smile anymore.
But his fists still held the will of someone who had once been alive.
They exchanged blows like words.
Words they couldn’t say aloud.
Each strike carried something deep.
Not just violence—but understanding.
They trained for this.
Endured for this.
Now, they stood at the peak.
Two warriors.
Nothing left to hide.
They wanted an end.
Not revenge.
Not pride.
Just a single, clear answer.
And that answer—
—came in the very next breath.
”────!?”
Mouyon’s right arm twisted unnaturally.
He couldn’t block the punch.
That arm had once been severed long ago—by Shiun Suzuri.
His body had been rebuilt, repaired too many times since death.
It was at its limit.
The soul might burn strong.
But when two warriors at the same level meet…
The body decides.
”Hyaahh──!!”
But Mouyon still had something left.
A secret move.
One last card.
Shadowless Kick.
A fast, sweeping strike from close range.
Too quick to see. Too silent to notice.
The attack hit—but Naoshi didn’t even flinch.
Instead, a terrible snap echoed from Mouyon’s leg.
”────!”
That was it.
What separated them… was life and death.
Time returned to where it should be.
No more, no less.
Naoshi didn’t speak of victory.
Only truth.
”I’m grateful. To have met you. To have fought you.”
He folded his arm, palm facing upward, and struck Mouyon’s chin from below.
Even that should’ve ended it—but Mouyon moved again.
Faster than that, Naoshi shouted.
”Shaah──!”
Twisting his body, he pushed forward.
His right hand—shaped like a blade—shone with spirit energy.
Raikiri.
It was the same strike that had once sliced through an oni’s steel body.
This time, it pierced Mouyon’s chest.
From just left of center.
Straight through the heart.
All the way out his back.
”────”
Naoshi pulled his arm free.
Then reached for the talisman on Mouyon’s forehead.
He tore it off.
The pale, tired face of the corpse man finally showed a faint smile.
”…Thank you.”
Their fists had spoken.
Even without words, the message was clear.
Naoshi answered with a nod.
”…No worries.”
With a soft thud, Mouyon’s body collapsed.
Face-up, arms wide, staring into the sky that was no longer visible.
Notes:
• Mouyon – Male. A martial arts master and former resident of Kowloon Walled City. His appearance is that of a middle-aged man with a large build and a dull-headed nature. He is a corpse (Kyonshi) with cloudy white eyes, later pierced by a black spot. His relationship is one of rivalry with Naoshi, driven by a command to kill him. His combat style involves Tiger Claw (Fujau) and Shadowless Kick, utilizing his trained fingers and log-like thighs.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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