Around 6 PM.
The final stage was already prepared, and in the large competition hall, spectators were gradually filling the seats.
It didn't take long before every seat was taken.
A rough count revealed at least over two thousand people.
In the front row on the south side, seven luxurious seats were lined up. The individuals seated there appeared to be around fifty or sixty years old, dressed in kendo uniforms. They exuded a calm, commanding aura.
"Those are the heads of the Seven Great Dojos?"
Shano lifted the curtain to the changing room and looked over. "Do you know them? Have any of them changed from five years ago?"
Junichi shook his head.
"No, it's still the same people, not a single change. The gray-haired one in the middle and the two next to him were all close friends of my father. They shared a bond forged through life-or-death situations when they were younger."
"To be honest, only the two on the far right had some conflicts in the past. As for the others, I remember my father had a good relationship with them."
"So, aside from those two who had poor relationships, the betrayal of the others seems even stranger, huh?"
Shano stroked his chin. "It really is weird. It's giving me the chills."
The human heart is easily swayed, but it can't flip a 540-degree Thomas turn in an instant.
On this vast sea, only one force could pull that off.
—The power of a devil.
But... which Devil Fruit could possibly reach that level?
"Look over there."
Junichi suddenly whispered.
Shano followed his gaze.
On the opposite side, the opponent's changing room curtain had been lifted at some point, revealing half of a fox mask, staring directly at them without moving.
To be exact, the person was staring right at Junichi.
"I have this feeling that person really cares about you."
Shano glanced at his subordinate. "Did you feel any familiar aura from him when you fought him this afternoon?"
"I was thinking the same, but I flew out right after bowing, so..."
"Next time, remember to fly slower. You might catch a whiff."
"...You really know how to hurt my feelings."
——
The time soon struck 7:00.
"Welcome to all! Here we are at the Kendo Tournament Finals, held in the special dojo of Shallow Sakura Island!"
Under the spotlight, the host stepped onto the central stage of the dojo, starting with the opening remarks.
When he mentioned the two underdog contestants, particularly when he spoke of Shano being from the Sakura Court Dojo,
A wave of whispers erupted from many sections of the audience.
It was clear.
Even five years later, despite the Seven Great Dojos erasing all traces, the former glory of the Sakura Court Dojo was still remembered by many.
Especially the former head, Sakura Tatsu.
As the most renowned swordsman of Shallow Sakura Island and the founder of the Kendo Tournament, he had been an idol for many of the local residents since over a decade ago.
Listening to the chattering voices, Junichi's expression grew complicated.
"You're up next, boss."
He glanced at the clock and softly reminded Shano, reaching into his pocket with his right hand to pull out a soft pink candy, placing it into Shano's hand.
"What's this?"
"Sakura-flavored soft candy. When I was a kid, I'd get nervous and my hands would tremble at big events. My father would always buy me this candy. I'd chew on it, and it'd help me feel better."
"Two thousand people—this counts as a big event?"
"Eh?! Doesn't this count?"
"Tsk, country bumpkin, you really don't get it."
Shano peeled the candy wrapper and popped the sakura-flavored candy into his mouth.
"It even has a filling, I like it." As he chewed, he grabbed his bamboo sword, stepped out of the changing room, and gave Junichi one last glance, smiling. "Aren't you going to encourage me? Say something like 'Good luck'?"
"No need. I believe in you." Junichi said seriously.
"Alright."
Shano was slightly stunned, then grinned. "Well, I never do anything that would let people down."
Swish!
The curtain lifted, and the spotlight immediately shone on the stage.
Amidst the roaring cheers of the thousands of spectators, Shano remained calm and strode onto the central stage.
"Please."
Shano bowed slightly in a standard ceremonial posture.
After practicing kendo for over a year, he still hadn't figured out the flashy moves, but these basic formalities were something he could manage.
However...
He waited for a while, but the fox figure across from him still hadn't bowed or responded.
The person just stood there like a statue, not moving a muscle.
What was this guy doing?
He was about to furrow his brows when suddenly, a low voice rang out from the fox-masked figure.
"How has Junichi been... all these years?"
Shano's heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly looked up, his gaze locking with the eyes hidden behind the mask.
For the first time, they were so close.
In the bright spotlight, Shano clearly saw the man's pupils—deep purple.
Deep purple was rare, but not entirely unheard of.
But...
Junichi's eyes were also deep purple.
"You... What exactly are you to Junichi?"
Shano narrowed his eyes. "Why bother asking me? Hiding your true intentions like that. If you really want to know, why not ask him directly?"
"..."
The white fox didn't respond.
Instead, he lifted his head and coldly stared at the camera bug on the wall.
"Hello, what's going on? Why are the two of them just standing there?"
"What's he staring at the camera for?"
"What's going on?! Are we going to fight or not?!"
The lack of movement on the stage only caused more dissatisfaction and complaints from the audience, and the unrest grew.
...
Behind a large desk.
A middle-aged man, surrounded by beautiful women, was enjoying his time when suddenly, his expression changed drastically.
"That bastard!"
He slammed his palms onto the desk, glaring at the screen.
"Has he lost his mind... What's he trying to do at this critical moment?"
On the screen, the tall, thin figure remained motionless, silently staring at the camera.
The middle-aged man felt an ominous premonition rising in his chest.
"Ah, Mr. Carpenter, what's wrong? Don't get so worked up, it's bad for your health. Come, let me pour you another drink."
The blonde woman beside him coyly offered two glasses of sherry.
"Get lost! All of you, get out!"
Bang!
His arm swiped across the table, sending the glasses crashing to the floor. The loud shout sent the women scurrying back in fear, huddling in the corner of the sofa.
There was a knock at the door. A bodyguard hesitantly opened it.
"Mr. Carpenter, what's happening?"
"Prepare the carriage... No! Have the driver bring my motorcycle down here! I need to get to the competition venue as fast as possible!"
"Mr. Carpenter" quickly donned a windbreaker, put on his hat, and rushed out of the office, flanked by bodyguards.
A moment later, the roar of a modified jet-powered motorcycle filled the streets, crushing the fallen cherry blossoms along the way.
The buildings blurred as they sped by, "Mr. Carpenter" gripped the golden handrails tightly, his face dark as water beneath the wide-brimmed hat.