Baki Hanma Here

Outside, the Tokyo rain washed the subway dust from his jacket. He wasn't stronger than before. But he was wiser. And sometimes, that's the same thing.

The location was an abandoned subway station beneath Roppongi. Baki went alone, leaving Kozue with a kiss and a lie about a light workout. Baki Hanma

At the head sat a gaunt, elderly man with the calm eyes of a temple monk. He wore a chef’s apron stained with a hundred different sauces. Outside, the Tokyo rain washed the subway dust

It was a humid Tokyo night when the letter arrived. No return address. Just a single, thick sheet of black paper with silver kanji that read: "You are invited to the Last Supper. Come hungry." Baki Hanma