Chapter 16: The Devil Fruit User Appears

Chapter 16: The Devil Fruit User Appears

It was just after six in the evening.

The stage for the finals was set. In the massive, dedicated tournament dojo, spectators gradually filled the seats on all four sides. Soon, there wasn't 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. The men seated there were all around fifty or sixty years old, dressed in kendo uniforms, their expressions calm, exuding a powerful aura.

"Are those the masters of the Seven Great Dojos?"

Shane lifted the curtain of the dressing room and looked over. "Do you recognize them all? Have any of them changed in the last five years?"

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, they were all my father's closest friends. They had a life-and-death friendship when they were young."

"In fact, only the two on the far right ever had any conflicts with him. As for the others, I remember their relationship with my father was also quite good."

"So, aside from the two who were already on bad terms, the betrayal of the others seems even stranger, right?" Shane said, pinching his chin. "It's truly bizarre. It's almost making my own heart pound with fear."

People's hearts can be fickle, but they can't do a 540-degree Thomas flair in one second.

In this sea, there was only one power that could do something like that.

—The power of a devil.

But... what kind of Devil Fruit could achieve this?

"Look over there," Junichi said suddenly in a low voice.

Shane followed his gaze.

Over there was the opponent's dressing room. The edge of the curtain had been lifted at some point, revealing half of a fox mask, staring motionlessly in their direction. To be precise, it was staring at Junichi.

"I have a feeling that this person seems very interested in you," Shane said, glancing at his little brother. "When you fought him this afternoon, did you sense any familiar aura from him?"

"I wanted to, but I was sent flying right after we bowed, so..."

"Next time, remember to fly a little slower. Maybe you'll be able to smell it."

"...You really have a way of hurting people with your words."

The time quickly reached seven o'clock sharp.

"Welcome, everyone, to the dedicated dojo for the Cherry Blossom Island Kendo Tournament! Welcome to the final match of this year's competition!"

Under the spotlight, the announcer stepped onto the stage in the center of the dojo and began to warm up the crowd.

When he finally introduced the two dark horses, especially mentioning that Shane was from the Sakuraba Dojo, a wave of whispers erupted in many sections of the audience.

Clearly, even after five years and despite the Seven Great Dojos' efforts to erase all traces, many people still remembered the former glory of the Sakuraba Dojo. Especially its former master, Sakuraba Itsuki. As the most renowned swordsman on Cherry Blossom Island and the founder of the kendo tournament, he had been an idol for many local residents since more than a decade ago.

Listening to the chaotic murmurs, Junichi's expression grew complicated.

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

He glanced at the clock on the wall and reminded him in a low voice. He fumbled in his pants pocket for a moment, took out a pale pink candy, and pressed it into Shane's hand.

"What's this?"

"A sakura soft candy. When I was little and had to attend big events with my father, I would always get so nervous my hands and feet would tremble. My father would buy me this kind of candy. I'd hold it in my mouth and chew, and I'd feel much better."

"Just two thousand people. Does that count as a big occasion?"

"Eh?! This doesn't count?"

"Tsk, such an uncultured country kid."

Shane tore open the wrapper and popped the sakura candy into his mouth.

"Oh, it has a filling. I like it," he said, chewing. He grabbed his bamboo sword and, before stepping out of the dressing room, glanced back at Junichi and smiled. "Aren't you going to encourage me? Say 'good luck' or something?"

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

"Good." Shane was slightly taken aback, then grinned. "That's convenient, because I never do things that disappoint people."

Swish!

The curtain was thrown open, and the spotlight suddenly shone on him.

Amidst the tsunami-like cheers of several thousand spectators, Shane walked onto the central stage with a calm expression.

"Greetings."

Shane gave a polite bow and assumed a standard opening stance. He had, after all, practiced swordsmanship for over a year. While he hadn't figured out the flashy moves, he knew all the basic formalities.

However, after waiting for a while, he didn't see White Fox return the bow. The man stood there like a statue, showing no reaction at all.

What is this guy doing?

Just as he frowned, he suddenly heard the other's deep voice.

"Junichi... has he been well all these years?"

Shane's heart jolted. He abruptly looked up, meeting the eyes hidden behind the mask. This was the first time the two of them had been so close. Under the full light of the spotlights, he could now see clearly that the man's pupils were a deep purple.

Deep purple was rare, but not unheard of.

But coincidentally... Junichi's eyes were also deep purple.

"You... just who are you to Junichi?" Shane narrowed his eyes. "Why bother asking me? Hiding your face and identity... if you really want to know, why don't you go ask him yourself?"

"..."

But White Fox didn't answer. He just raised his head and stared coldly at the broadcasting Den Den Mushi on the wall.

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

"What's he staring at the camera for?"

"What the hell! Are they going to fight or not?!"

The stage remained silent for a long time. In the audience, the commotion from dissatisfaction and complaints grew louder and louder.

Behind the large desk.

The middle-aged man, who had been enjoying the services of beautiful women on either side of him, saw this scene, and his expression suddenly changed.

"You bastard!"

He violently pushed the women away and stood up, slamming his palms on the desk, staring intently at the screen.

"Is he insane... at such a critical moment, what is he trying to do?! What is he planning?!"

On the screen, the tall, thin figure still stood motionless, quietly staring at the camera.

A deeply unsettling premonition began to grow in the middle-aged man's heart.

"Oh, Mr. Carpenter, what's wrong? Don't get so excited. Getting angry is bad for your health. Here, let me have another drink with you."

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

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

Bam! He swept his arm violently. The wine glasses shattered on the floor. His roar terrified the women, who retreated in fear and huddled in a corner of the sofa.

A knock came from the door, and a bodyguard pushed it open a crack, confused.

"Mr. Carpenter, what's wrong?"

"Prepare the carriage... No! Have the driver bring my motorcycle downstairs! I need to get to the competition venue at top speed, immediately!"

"The Carpenter" quickly threw on a trench coat, put on his hat, and, surrounded by several bodyguards, pushed open the door and strode towards the stairwell.

A moment later, the roar of an engine echoed. A modified jet-powered motorcycle sped away, crushing the fallen cherry blossoms that littered the entire street. The scenery on both sides blurred past. "The Carpenter" gripped the gold-plated handlebars tightly, his face under the wide-brimmed black hat as grim as water.