Chapter 10: A New Fat Sheep Has Appeared
Clink—Smack!
A coin was flicked into the air by a thumb, then caught securely as it fell. This was repeated over and over again.
Shane strolled leisurely through the streets at dusk, the rhythm of the rising and falling coin gradually synchronizing with his steps.
"Hm?"
He suddenly looked up.
Not far away, a huge, pale pink banner hung above the city gate, emblazoned with the words: "25th Cherry Blossom Island Dojo Tournament."
To the left stood a public notice board, surrounded by a bustling crowd.
"Excuse me, thank you."
With his powerful physique, Shane easily pushed through the crowd and made his way to the front of the notice board.
"What the f—"
A few delinquent-looking youths, having been pushed aside, were furious and turned to start trouble. But after seeing the brawny, muscular back, they silently returned to their spots.
"A kendo tournament? Any disciple of a sword dojo can participate. The registration fee is 10,000 Belli, and the deadline is tomorrow."
"You get 1,000,000 Belli for reaching the semi-finals, and the champion gets 5,000,000 Belli?"
The prize was quite good. Shane was genuinely tempted. Unfortunately, his swordsmanship was abysmal. It was best not to make a fool of himself. More importantly, he had to find a ship to the Goa Kingdom first thing tomorrow morning. Who knew how long this tournament would last? If it took a week or even half a month, he didn't have the time.
Shane shook his head and was about to cross the drawbridge to find an inn for the night.
Suddenly, by the city wall, he saw the same frail boy in the worn-out kendo uniform. He was staring blankly at the banner, clutching a bamboo sword tightly in his hand, his eyes dim and lifeless.
Well, now I can return this to its rightful owner.
"Here, your money. Take it."
A cold, hard object was suddenly pressed into his hand. The frail boy froze for a second, then looked up at the brawny man whose age was hard to guess.
"You are..."
The frail boy opened his palm, still looking dazed. When he saw the familiar coins, he finally understood and murmured, "Another scammer, huh..."
"You don't seem surprised at all," Shane raised an eyebrow. "Now it's my turn to be surprised."
"Ah, I can pretty much guess what happened," the frail boy said, still staring at his palm. "This is my mother's hometown, after all, and I lived here for a few years as a child. I've heard a thing or two about those professional beggars."
"Then why did you still give him money?"
"...There are always genuinely poor people out there. What if I could help one?"
"A noble spirit, but that old man was obviously shady. It seems your ability to judge character needs some work."
"...Yes. I haven't had much contact with the outside world since I was young, so my experience is a mess. My teacher has said the same thing about me."
"Teacher?"
Shane's gaze shifted to the boy's bamboo sword. The hilt was wrapped in a worn-out cloth strip, clearly having been used for a long time. "A kendo teacher?"
"Yes. You've probably never heard his name."
At the mention of this, the frail boy finally looked up, his voice filled with reverence. "But, Master Koshiro is definitely an incredible swordsman! To be his disciple is the greatest pride of my life!"
Koshiro?
Shane was stunned. He had just come to return a few coins. Was this an unexpected bonus? Could this be what they call good karma?
His interest was immediately piqued. "So, you've come all the way from the Isshin Dojo?"
"Eh! How did you know?" The boy's eyes widened. "Have you also been to Shimotsuki Village?"
"Not yet."
Now I'm counting on you to take me there.
Shimotsuki Village had only been established a few years ago and had the reclusive, hidden-paradise feel of a Shangri-La. It was even more remote than Cocoyasi Village. Very few merchant ships passed by all year round, making it difficult to get there without one's own boat.
Since the frail boy before him was Koshiro's disciple, he must have a way to get back. All Shane had to do was follow him. This one-month trip to the sea was all about fleecing wool from here and there, wasn't it? If there was no opportunity, so be it. But with fate placing it right in front of him, how could he possibly let a little fat sheep like Roronoa Zoro's fellow disciple get away?
"I've heard of Master Koshiro's great name before, that's how I knew," Shane said. "So, you're here to represent the Isshin Dojo in this kendo tournament?"
"No, no, no! I'm not skilled enough to represent Master Koshiro," the frail boy quickly waved his hands in panic, as if afraid of tarnishing the Isshin Dojo's reputation. "Besides, the kendo tournament on Cherry Blossom Island doesn't accept disciples from outside. Only dojos officially registered on the island are eligible."
"As for my other identity..." He suddenly realized his manners and bowed deeply. "Ah! I haven't even introduced myself, how rude! My name is Sakuraba Junichi, and I am the current master of the Sakuraba Dojo on this island."
A dojo master?
Only then did Shane notice that the boy, Junichi, had a faded family crest embroidered on the cuff and left chest of his kendo uniform. Although it was washed out and blurry, he could vaguely make out the shape of a blooming cherry blossom.
"Shane." He extended his hand for a brief shake by way of greeting. "Shall we talk somewhere else?"
In a commoner's tavern in the southwest of the city.
"Two glasses of Binks's Brew, thank you."
"Four thousand Belli."
Slap! Shane took out two large bills and slapped them generously on the bar, then took the drinks to a corner table.
He still hadn't touched the 50,000 Belli Belle-mère had given him. He was supposed to have spent nearly half of it on food and lodging on the Garter, but because of the incident with the Lord of the Coast, he hadn't spent a single Belli. So he was still quite well-off.
"Isn't... isn't this a bad idea? I'm only fifteen," Sakuraba Junichi said reservedly. He had never been to a tavern before. "Shouldn't we... not drink since we're underage?"
"It's fine, the alcohol content isn't high," Shane said casually, his attention fully focused on the stemmed glass in his hand. This was the first time he had ever seen this famous drink.
Binks's Brew wasn't just a song; the drink itself was also very famous in the East Blue. A fixed ratio of rum, white wine, and orange juice created a refreshing and widely popular taste. The alcohol content was only about ten percent, so it was hard to get drunk on.
Is that so?
Sakuraba Junichi clumsily held the glass with both hands, watching the liquid slosh around. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and he finally couldn't resist taking a big gulp.
Just then, Shane's slow voice sounded:
"By the way, I'm thirteen. A little younger than you."
Pffft—
The alcohol he hadn't even tasted yet sprayed out of his mouth. Junichi didn't have time to feel bad about it; he just stared at Shane across the round table, his eyes wide as saucers.
This is a thirteen-year-old?!
"Why so surprised?" Shane said, sipping his own drink. The ice-cold, sweet liquor slid down his throat, and he squinted his eyes in satisfaction.
What a sin. It's all the fault of those sailors who egged me on that night. They've led me astray. Otherwise, I'd still be a good boy who doesn't touch a drop of alcohol.
"Let's talk about you instead," he said, putting down his glass and looking at the still-shocked Junichi. "Let me guess... that dojo of yours, it's already fallen into decline?"
This didn't even require guessing. That tattered kendo uniform couldn't possibly be a rich young master out to cosplay.
"Yes. It's shameful to admit," Junichi said, lowering his head and mumbling, "My father was once the strongest swordsman on Cherry Blossom Island. The Sakuraba Dojo he founded was also once the most prestigious dojo on the island."
"But... ever since my father passed away five years ago, the dojo has been suppressed by the other dojos on the island. My senior brothers all left, and in the end, even the dojo's land was taken by creditors. If Master Koshiro hadn't taken me in, I might have already starved to death at sea."