Chapter 10: A New Fat Sheep Has Appeared

Ding—Pa!

A coin was flicked up by a thumb, tossed into the air, and caught again as it fell swiftly, the motion repeating over and over.

Siano strolled leisurely through the twilight streets, the rhythm of the coin in his hand gradually falling into step with his pace.

"Hmm?"

He suddenly looked up.

Not far off, a huge pale-pink banner hung above the city gate, bearing the large characters "Shallow Cherry Island 25th Dojo Tournament."

To the left stood a bulletin board, surrounded by a bustling, noisy crowd.

"Excuse me, thanks."

With his powerful, sturdy frame, Siano easily pushed through the crowd and made his way to the bulletin board.

"You son of a—"

A few thug-looking youths, shoved aside, had been about to fly into a rage and turn to start trouble, but upon clearly seeing that muscular, sinewy broad back, they silently returned to where they had been standing.

"Swordsmanship tournament? Any disciple of a swordsmanship dojo may enter. Entry fee: 10,000 Berries. Deadline is tomorrow."

"Reach the semifinals and you get 1,000,000 Berries; the champion gets 5,000,000 Berries?"

The terms aren't bad—Siano was genuinely a little tempted.

Too bad his swordsmanship was truly unfit to be seen; better not to bring it out and embarrass himself.

More importantly, he had to find a ship to the Goa Kingdom first thing tomorrow morning. God knew how long this tournament would last—if it took a week or even half a month, he simply didn't have that kind of time.

Siano shook his head, preparing to cross the suspension bridge and head into the city to find an inn to rest.

Suddenly, beside the city wall, he spotted that thin, frail youth in a worn-out kendo gi again, now staring blankly up at the banner, a bamboo sword gripped tightly in his hand, his eyes dim and lifeless.

This time he could finally return the thing to its rightful owner.

"Here, your money. Hold on to it."

A cold, hard object was suddenly pressed into his hand. The frail youth gave a slight start and looked up at this burly, broad-shouldered man whose age was a little hard to pin down.

"What is this…?"

The frail youth opened his palm, still seeming not to have come back to his senses. Only when he clearly saw those few familiar coins did he understand, and murmured, "Another swindler…"

"You don't seem surprised at all?" Siano raised an eyebrow. "Then it's my turn to be surprised."

"Ah, I can probably guess what's going on."

The frail youth kept his head down, staring at his palm. "After all, it's my mother's hometown. I lived here for a few years when I was little, so I've heard a bit about how those professional beggars behave."

"Then why give them money?"

"…There really are genuinely poor people, after all. What if it could help someone?"

"Commendable spirit, but that old thing was obviously off from a glance. Your ability to tell them apart seems to need some work."

"…Yes. I haven't had much contact with the outside world since I was young, and my experience is a complete mess. My teacher has said the same thing about me."

"Teacher?"

Siano's gaze shifted to the youth's bamboo sword. The hilt was wrapped in worn-out cloth—clearly used for a very long time. "A kendo teacher?"

"Yes, sir. Perhaps you haven't heard his name."

At the mention of this, the frail youth finally raised his head, his voice full of reverence:

"But Mr. Teacher Gengsilang is absolutely a remarkable swordsman! Having the fortune to become his disciple is the proudest thing of my life!"

Teacher Gengsilang?

Siano was taken aback. He'd come just to return a few coins, and now there was an unexpected bonus?

Could this be good deeds rewarded?

He was instantly intrigued. "So you're saying you came all the way from Isshin Dojo?"

"Eh! How did you know?" The youth's eyes went wide. "Have you been to Shimotsuki Village too?"

"Not yet."

Then I'm counting entirely on you to take me there.

Shimotsuki Village had only been established a few years ago; it carried a certain Peach Blossom Spring flavor of living hidden from the world, far more remote than even Cocoyama Village.

Not a single merchant ship passed by all year; without a ship of your own, getting there was nearly impossible.

Since this frail youth before him was Teacher Gengsilang's disciple and had managed to get here, he must have a way to get back. Siano only had to follow along.

This time-limited one-month voyage—wasn't it precisely for the purpose of going around collecting wool?

If there really were no opportunity, so be it. But with fate laid out right in front of him, how could he possibly let classmate Liu Suolong, this little fat sheep, slip away?

"I've heard of Mr. Teacher Gengsilang's great name before, so that's how I knew." Siano said, "So you're saying you're here representing Isshin Dojo to take part in this swordsmanship tournament?"

"N-no, no, no, how could I possibly represent Mr. Teacher Gengsilang?"

The frail youth hurriedly waved his hands in panic, as though afraid of tarnishing Isshin Dojo's reputation. "Besides, the Shallow Cherry Island swordsmanship tournament doesn't accept entries from outside disciples. Only dojos officially registered on the island are eligible."

"As for my other identity…"

He suddenly came to himself and bowed deeply. "Ah! I still haven't given you my name—how rude! I'm Sakuraba Jun'ichi, the current head of Sakuraba Dojo on the island."

Head of a dojo?

Only now did Siano notice that on the cuffs and left chest of this youth called Jun'ichi's kendo gi, a faded family crest was embroidered.

Though washed pale and blurry, one could still faintly make out a cherry blossom in full bloom.

"Siano." He extended a hand and gave a light squeeze—a casual greeting. "Shall we find somewhere else to talk?"

……

In a commoner's tavern in the southwest of the city.

"Two glasses of Binks' Sake, please."

"Four thousand Berries."

Slap! Siano slapped two large bills onto the bar counter with a show of wealth, took his drink, and headed to a corner seat.

He still hadn't touched the fifty thousand Berries Bell-mère had given him; normally, room and board on the Garter would have consumed more than half, but thanks to that incident with the Near-Sea King, he hadn't spent a single coin.

So, he was actually quite flush with cash at the moment.

"No, this isn't right; I'm only fifteen." Sakuraba Junichi felt somewhat constrained; he had never entered a tavern before. "Isn't it inappropriate since I'm not an adult..."

"It's fine; the alcohol content isn't high," Siano said casually, his attention fully focused on the wine glass in his hand, as this was his first time seeing this famously renowned drink.

Binks' Sake was not just a song; the beverage itself was also highly famous in the East Blue.

Rum, white wine, and orange juice mixed in fixed proportions created a refreshing taste; its flavor was quite mainstream, which made it widely popular.

As for the alcohol content, it was only around ten percent, making it very difficult to get drunk.

Is that so?

Junichi clumsily cupped the wine glass with both hands, watching the liquid inside sway up and down; suddenly feeling parched, he finally couldn't resist and tilted his head back to take a large gulp.

Just then, Siano's leisurely voice rang out:

"By the way, I'm thirteen, a bit younger than you."

Pfft—

The wine, whose taste he hadn't even savored, was spat out entirely; Junichi, disregarding the waste, simply looked up at Siano across the round table, his eyes wide open.

This is thirteen years old?

"Why so surprised?"

Siano continued savoring his wine on his own terms; a mouthful of icy, sweet liquor slid down his throat, and he squinted his eyes in satisfaction.

It was truly a sin; all thanks to those sailors who had egged him on and forced him to chug water that night, leading him astray; otherwise, he would still be a good youth who never touched a drop of alcohol.

"Let's talk about your situation instead."

He set down his glass and looked at Junichi, who was still in a state of shock. "Let me guess... that dojo of your family must have fallen into decline?"

This didn't even require guessing.

With this tattered kendo uniform, he couldn't possibly be a wealthy young master out playing cosplay.

"Yes, it is shameful to admit."

Junichi lowered his head and murmured, "My father was once the strongest swordsman on Asakura Island; the Sakuraba Dojo he founded was also the most prestigious dojo on the island."

"But... ever since my father passed away five years ago, the dojo has been suppressed by a coalition of other dojos on the island; my senior brothers left one after another, and in the end, even the land of the dojo was seized by creditors. If Teacher Teacher Gengsilang hadn't taken me in, I might have starved to death at sea long ago."

One more update tonight.

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(End of Chapter)