Chapter 16: Devil Fruit User Appears

A little past six in the afternoon.

The finals stage was ready; inside the vast competition dojo, spectators were filing into the seats on all four sides one after another.

Very soon, there was not an empty seat to be found.

A rough count showed at least two thousand people.

In the first row on the south side, seven luxurious seats were arranged in a line; those seated were all around fifty or sixty years old, dressed in kendo uniforms, looking composed and possessing quite an imposing aura.

"Are those the masters of the seven great dojos?"

Siano lifted the changing room curtain, gazing over there. "Do you recognize them all? Have they changed personnel compared to five years ago?"

Junyi shook his head.

"No, it's still them; not a single one has changed. The gray-haired man in the middle, and the two beside him, were all my father's closest friends back then, sharing life-and-death bonds from their youth."

"To be precise, only the two on the far right had some conflicts; as for the rest, I recall their relationships with my father were also quite good."

"So, aside from the expected rift with those two, the betrayal by the others seems even stranger, doesn't it?"

Siano pinched his chin. "Indeed bizarre; it's making me feel a bit uneasy."

Human hearts are fickle, but they cannot perform a 540-degree Thomas flare in one second.

On this vast sea, only one kind of power can achieve such a thing.

—The power of demons.

It's just... exactly which Devil Fruit could accomplish this level of control?

"Look over there."

Junyi suddenly whispered.

Siano followed his gaze.

Over there was the opposing side's changing room; the edge of its curtain had somehow been lifted, revealing half a fox mask, staring this way without moving.

More accurately, it was staring constantly at Junyi.

"I get the feeling this person is very focused on you."

Siano glanced at his junior. "When you fought him this afternoon, did you sense any familiar aura from him?"

"I wanted to, but I was sent flying immediately after bowing, so..."

"Next time, remember to fly slower; maybe you'll be able to smell it."

"... Your words are truly, truly hurtful."

————

Time quickly reached seven o'clock sharp.

"This is the Asakura Island Kendo Tournament Special Dojo; welcome, everyone, to the finals venue of this year's Kendo Tournament!"

Under the focused spotlights, the host ascended the central ring of the dojo and began the warm-up segment.

When he finally introduced the two dark horses, especially upon mentioning that Siano came from the Sakuraba Dojo.

In many sections of the spectator stands, a burst of whispered murmurs erupted.

Clearly.

Even after five years, despite the seven great dojos erasing all traces, the former glory of the Sakuraba Dojo was still remembered by many.

Especially its former master, Sakuraba Ki.

As Asakura Island's most renowned swordsman and the founder of the Kendo Tournament, he had been an idol worshipped by many local residents since over a decade ago.

Listening to these chaotic and noisy discussions, Junyi's expression was complex.

"It's your turn to go on, Boss."

He glanced at the wall clock, whispered a reminder, fumbled in his pants pocket for a moment, pulled out a pale pink candy, and stuffed it into Siano's hand.

"What is this?"

"Sakura soft candy. When I was young and accompanied my father to various grand occasions, I would always get so nervous my hands and feet would tremble; my father would buy me this kind of soft candy, and chewing it in my mouth made me feel much better."

"Just two thousand or so people; does that count as a grand occasion?"

"Eh?! Doesn't that count?"

"Tsk, country kids really have no sense."

Siano tore open the wrapper and put the sakura candy into his mouth.

"It even has a filling; I like it." Chewing, he grabbed his bamboo sword, and just before stepping out of the changing room, he glanced back at Junyi one last time and smiled. "Aren't you going to encourage me? Say something like 'good luck'?"

"No need; I believe in you," Junyi said very seriously.

"Good."

Siano paused slightly, then grinned. "Coincidentally, I never do things that disappoint people."

Swish!

The curtain was flung open, and the spotlight suddenly struck.

Amidst the mountainous, tsunami-like cheers of thousands of spectators, Siano, with a calm expression, strode onto the central ring.

"Please."

Siano bowed slightly as a matter of etiquette and assumed a standard starting stance.

Having practiced swordsmanship for over a year, he hadn't figured out the flashy techniques, but these face-saving formalities he certainly knew.

However.

After waiting for quite a while, he still did not see the White Fox bow in return.

The opponent stood there like a sculpture, wooden and without any reaction.

What is this guy up to?

Just as he began to frown.

He suddenly heard the other's low, deep voice.

"Chunyi... has he been living well all these years?"

Siano's heart jolted; he abruptly lifted his head, gazing into those eyes hidden behind the mask.

It was the first time the two had been this close.

Under the ample light of the spotlight, he could finally see clearly: the man's pupils were actually deep purple.

Deep purple was uncommon, but not rare.

Yet, as it happened...

Chunyi's pupils were also deep purple.

"Who exactly are you to Chunyi?"

Siano narrowed his eyes. "Why ask me? Hiding your head and tail like this—if you really want to know, why not go find him yourself and ask him face to face?"

"..."

The White Fox gave no answer.

He simply lifted his head, gazing coldly at the Den Den Mushi on the wall broadcasting via camera.

"Hey, what's going on? Why have both of them stopped?"

"What's he doing staring at the lens?"

"What's the deal! Are they fighting or not!"

With no movement on the arena for a long while, the unrest stirred by dissatisfaction and complaints in the spectator stands grew ever louder.

Behind the wide office desk.

The middle-aged man, who had been enjoying the service of beauties with one in each arm, saw this scene and his expression changed abruptly.

"Damn bastard!"

He violently shoved the beauties aside and rose, planting both palms on the desk as he stared fixedly at the screen.

"Has he gone mad... at such a critical moment, what is he trying to do? What is he up to!"

The tall, thin figure in the screen still stood motionless there, quietly staring at the lens.

A deeply ominous premonition gradually arose in the middle-aged man's heart.

"Oh my, Mr. Carpenter, what's wrong? Don't get so excited; anger is bad for your health. Come, let me keep you company with another drink."

The blonde beauty on his right coquettishly lifted two glasses of sherry.

"Get out! All of you, get the hell out!"

Boom! He swept his arm violently; the glasses smashed on the floor, and his roaring fury frightened the several beauties into retreating in terror, cowering into the corner of the sofa.

Knocking sounds also came from outside the door; a bodyguard pushed it open a crack, puzzled:

"Mr. Carpenter, what's wrong?"

"Prepare the carriage... No! Tell the driver to bring my motorcycle downstairs! I need to get to the competition site immediately, at maximum speed!"

"Carpenter" swiftly threw on a trench coat, donned a hat, and, surrounded by several bodyguards, pushed open the door and strode rapidly straight for the stairwell.

A moment later.

The engine droned and roared; the modified jet motorcycle sped away, crushing the withered cherry blossoms scattered across the entire street.

Scenery and buildings on both sides flashed by rapidly; "Carpenter" gripped the gilded handlebars tightly, his face beneath the wide-brimmed black hat gloomy as still water.

(End of Chapter)