Yakuza__like_a_dragon.part10.r...

When Ichiban’s car crossed the finish line first (thanks to a last-second "Heroic Boost"), the masked man collapsed to his knees, weeping. He unmasked himself, revealing a face tired of hiding. Ichiban didn't kick him; he offered him a hand.

At the head of the table sat a man in a pristine white suit, wearing a mask of a weeping oni. He held a golden screwdriver like a scepter. yakuza__like_a_dragon.part10.r...

"Kasuga-san! You have to help," the grunt gasped. "The ‘Collector’ is back. He’s taking the elders." When Ichiban’s car crossed the finish line first

Ichiban didn't pull his bat. He pulled out a customized, tiny plastic car. At the head of the table sat a

The battle wasn't fought with fists, but with the frantic clicking of controllers and the smell of burning AA batteries. As the tiny cars zoomed around the track, Ichiban gave a speech—as he always did—about how the past is a foundation, not a cage.

"Something’s off," Ichiban said, his permed hair bouncing as he scanned the street. "The Liumang guys are usually yelling about spicy noodles by now. It’s too quiet."