It was a little past six in the evening.
The stage for the finals was already set. In the vast martial arts school designated for the competition, spectators were gradually filling the seats from all directions.
Soon, the venue was packed to capacity.
A rough estimate suggested there were at least two thousand people present.
In the first row on the south side, seven luxurious seats were lined up. The people seated there were all around fifty or sixty years old, dressed in kendo uniforms, composed and exuding a strong presence.
"Are those the heads of the Seven Great Dojos?"
Xiano lifted the curtain of the changing room and glanced over, "Do you know them all? Have any of them changed compared to five years ago?"
Junichi shook his head.
"No, it's still them, not a single one has changed. The gray-haired man in the middle, and the two next to him, were all close friends of my father back in the day. They had life-and-death bonds in their youth."
"To be honest, only the two on the far right had some conflicts before. As for the others, I remember they all had good relationships with my father."
"So, apart from those two with poor relations, the betrayal of the others seems even more bizarre, right?"
Xiano pinched his chin, "It is indeed strange, it's making me feel a bit scared."
Human hearts are fickle, but they can't perform a 540-degree Thomas spin in one second.
On this vast sea, only one kind of power can achieve that.
—The power of a devil.
But... what kind of Devil Fruit could possibly do that?
"Look over there."
Junichi suddenly whispered.
Xiano followed his gaze.
Over there was the opponent's changing room. The edge of the curtain had been lifted at some point, revealing half of a fox mask, staring motionless in their direction.
To be precise, it had been staring at Junichi the whole time.
"I always feel like this person seems very interested in you."
Xiano 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 right after bowing, so..."
"Next time, remember to fly slower, maybe you'll catch a scent."
"...Your words are really, really hurtful."
————
Time quickly reached seven o'clock sharp.
"This is the Asakura Island Swordsmanship Tournament's designated martial arts school, welcome everyone! To the finals of this year's swordsmanship tournament!"
Under the spotlight, the host stepped onto the arena in the center of the martial arts school, starting the warm-up session.
When he finally introduced the two dark horses, especially mentioning that Xiano was from the Sakuraba Dojo.
Many areas of the audience erupted in whispers.
Clearly.
Even after five years, despite the Seven Great Dojos' efforts to erase traces, the former glory of the Sakuraba Dojo is still remembered by many.
Especially the former head, Sakuraba Itsuki.
As the most renowned swordsman of Asakura Island and the founder of the swordsmanship tournament, he has been an idol for many local residents since over a decade ago.
Listening to these chaotic murmurs, Junichi's expression was complex.
"It's your turn to go on stage, boss."
He glanced at the clock and reminded in a low voice, his right hand rummaging in his pocket for a while before pulling out a pale pink candy, which he handed to Xiano.
"What's this?"
"Cherry Blossom Soft Candy. When I was a kid and followed my father to various big events, I would always get so nervous that my hands and feet would shake. My father would buy me this soft candy, and chewing on it would make me feel much better."
"Two thousand people, is that considered a big event?"
"Eh?! Doesn't that count?"
"Tsk, country kids really have no clue."
Xiano tore open the candy wrapper and popped the cherry blossom candy into his mouth.
"It's got a filling too, I like it," he said as he chewed. Grabbing his bamboo sword, he took one last glance at Junichi before stepping out of the locker room, grinning. "Aren't you going to encourage me? Say something like 'good luck'?"
"No need, I believe in you," Junichi replied earnestly.
"Alright."
Xiano was slightly taken aback, then grinned wider. "Just so happens, I never let people down."
Swish!
The curtain was pulled aside, and the spotlight suddenly shone on him.
Amid the roaring cheers of thousands of spectators, Xiano walked calmly onto the central Arena.
"Let's begin."
Xiano bowed slightly out of courtesy, assuming a standard starting stance.
After all, he had practiced swordsmanship for over a year. While he hadn't mastered any flashy moves, he knew all the basics to make a good impression.
However.
He waited for a while, but White Fox didn't return the bow.
The opponent stood there like a statue, completely unresponsive.
What's this guy up to?
Just as he frowned.
He suddenly heard the other's low voice.
"The latest novel is first published at 69shuba!"
"How has Junichi been... these past years?"
Xiano's heart skipped a beat, and he abruptly looked up, meeting the eyes hidden behind the mask.
This was the first time they were so close.
Under the bright spotlight, he could clearly see that the man's pupils were a deep purple.
Deep purple was uncommon, but not rare.
Yet...
Junichi's eyes were also deep purple.
"Who exactly are you to Junichi?"
Xiano narrowed his eyes. "Why ask me? If you really want to know, why not go find him yourself and ask directly?"
"..."
White Fox didn't answer.
Instead, he looked up coldly at the Den Den Mushi broadcasting the event on the wall.
"Hey, what's going on? Why have both of them stopped?"
"Why is he staring at the camera?"
"What's the deal! Are they going to fight or not?"
The Arena remained still for too long, and the audience's dissatisfaction and complaints grew louder.
...
Behind a large desk.
A middle-aged man, surrounded by beautiful women, suddenly changed his expression upon seeing this.
"That bastard!"
He abruptly pushed the women aside and stood up, slamming his hands on the desk, glaring at the screen.
"Is he insane... at such a critical moment, what is he trying to do? What's he up to!"
The tall, thin figure on the screen remained motionless, quietly staring at the camera.
A sense of foreboding gradually crept into the middle-aged man's heart.
"Oh, Carpenter, what's wrong? Don't get so worked up, it's bad for your health. Here, let me pour you another drink."
The blonde woman on his right cooed, holding up two glasses of sherry.
"Get out! All of you, get out!"
Bang! He swept his arm, shattering the glasses on the floor, his roar startling the women, who retreated in fear to the corner of the sofa.
There was a knock at the door, and a bodyguard peeked in cautiously:
"Carpenter, what's going on?"
"Prepare the carriage... no! Have the driver bring my motorcycle downstairs! I need to get to the venue as fast as possible!"
The "Carpenter" quickly threw on his coat, put on his hat, and, surrounded by several bodyguards, strode out the door, heading straight for the staircase.
A moment later.
The engine roared as the modified
jet bike sped away, crushing the fallen cherry blossoms scattered across the entire street.
The scenery and buildings on both sides rapidly changed. Carpenter gripped the gilded handlebar tightly, his face beneath the wide-brimmed black hat as dark as storm clouds.
(End of Chapter)