Chapter 780
The first impression the warriors setting foot in India felt was an overwhelming, nose-stinging smell of spices. It was something entirely different from the spices commonly used back in Japan or the aroma of curry.
Most of the warriors prided themselves on being accustomed to making curry in Japan… but the Indian version was on a completely different level, a dimension that made them realize what “exotic” truly meant in their bones.
And the second realization was the sheer number of people around.
Tons of them.
Tourists, locals wandering about.
And then…
“Ni hao! Come on! Come on!”
“Japan? Konnichiwa! I love ninja! I love sushi!”
“Annyeonghaseyo?!”
The vendors, who had been lounging around waiting for tourists, sprang into action.
Upon spotting the Japanese, they swarmed in like they’d hit the jackpot, spouting various phrases they knew in an attempt to establish an inner sense of camaraderie. They relentlessly pushed their taxis or goods toward them, as if to say, “Get in my ride!” or “Buy my stuff!”
No, they were taking it a step further, trying to drag them along by force.
But then, seeing the intimidating, muscle-bound Japanese warriors, they suddenly recoiled.
Hands withdrew.
And with their trademark gesture of shaking their heads side to side, they eased their actions, plastering smiles on their faces as they attempted to rekindle that sense of familiarity…
And the impression felt by the Japanese warriors in the midst of this human tidal wave was…
‘The smell of spices is no joke.’
…They found it highly bothersome.
The unfamiliar scent, the incessant chatter of Indians ringing in their ears, the overwhelming warmth and breath of those who got annoyingly close…
The developed senses of the warriors allowed them to experience every unpleasant detail that would normally incense an average person, letting them distinguish each element that contributed to this distinctly foreign feeling.
Had they been weaker men, they might have struggled just to push through this crowd.
“No. No. Tour. Tour.”
“Tour program bus!”
Thankfully, these were warriors.
With their strength and build, they had no trouble cutting through the throngs of those merely seeking to make a sale and shouted in English about the pre-arranged bus they had. They bulldozed their way through, and after boarding the worn-out bus parked in a secluded corner of the airport, they sighed in relief once the doors shut behind them.
“Hoo. The smell is no joke.”
“Spice smell aside, the… the smell from one hand is…”
Is traveling supposed to be this torturous? Even getting out of the airport is such a struggle…
The warriors let out a sigh at the unwelcome information their sharpened senses provided, leaning back against the worn-out seat. The decrepit chair offered no real support, sagging and creaking uncomfortably, while the stifling air filled with the musk of spices reinforced the feeling that they were indeed in a foreign land.
Was the stuffy air inside the bus due to the weather in India, or the sweat dripping off the bodies of all the people on board?
The bus continued onward, carrying the warriors forward, forward.
It occasionally had to stop for a cow blocking the road, while the odors from stepping in cow dung curled their noses in disgust. Women draped in vibrant fabrics were visible, some with a dot on their foreheads staring curiously at the bus. They exchanged glances with someone fanning themselves at a run-down salon peering at the road, and the sight of vendors shouting at the fruit they offered, imploring for money, made it all too colorful.
Brrrrrrr.
The bus began to slow on narrowing streets, heading toward the outskirts.
The engine let out temporary screams as it struggled, bouncing over rough, unpaved roads, providing an unpleasant rollercoaster of discomfort for the warriors inside, while pesky mosquitoes buzzed around them, bothering them incessantly.
Through all of this, the bus pressed on until, at last, it reached its destination.
The reason they’d come here.
“Finally.”
A confrontation with the Chinese warriors.
It was time to deliver punishment to those strange folks acting suspiciously behind them.
The warriors, faces set with determination, began to prepare to disembark from the bus, each picking up the improvised tools they’d hidden away on board.
Steel pipes, wooden planks, hastily crafted naginata with springs, and wooden swords.
These items looked incredibly clumsy for them to use in a proper fight.
Yet there was a reason for this.
“Makeup.”
Set up.
They planned to thrash the Chinese and pin the blame on India.
The India-China border was a hotbed of frequent friction.
However, the clashes were closer to a brawl than any real battle, dripping with the tension of ill will between the two countries. The Indian and Chinese soldiers stationed at the border harbored their own grudge, but ironically, it meant that even a single bullet posed the risk of igniting war.
Clarity was visible in the cooling relations between the two nations, and the excessive stress endured by the soldiers stationed there frequently transformed into aggression. Thus, whenever a confrontation occurred, they wanted to ensure it didn’t escalate into catastrophe…
…and so, what they were now prepared to wield was simply cold weapons.
Those confident in their fists approached empty-handed.
If not, they would resort to steel pipes or wooden planks.
What took place wasn’t so much a showdown between soldiers but rather a ridiculous scene reminiscent of neighborhood punks squabbling.
And the Japanese side, aware of this dynamic, had a thought.
‘Wouldn’t it just work to act like Indians and thrash the Chinese soldiers?’
Then, with any luck, the Chinese warriors would reveal themselves.
At that point, they could finally have the proper duel.
But a question could arise here.
Beating up soldiers and posing as Indians is fine and all, but the importance of weapons in a legitimate warrior’s fight goes without saying—would a steel pipe or wooden plank even hold up?
‘Then we’ll divide into two groups. One to take down soldiers and one properly armed.’
In simple terms, those tasked with beating soldiers would serve as bait, while those in hiding would confront the Chinese warriors directly. They would also serve as backup to retreat immediately if the Chinese brought firearms.
All right.
The plan was simple, but there was no downside.
It could be described as straightforward, with no apparent flaws.
Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but surely they could find ways to adapt with a keen instinct for improvisation on-site.
With sharp improvisation, they could handle any variables that came their way.
And so, the warriors began to step off the bus, filled with confidence to execute their mission.