Chapter 14: A Direct Shortcut

"Hey! Why are you still here? Come with me, quickly!"

"What's the rush? I haven't finished watching this match yet."

"Don't talk nonsense! A monster has appeared in the southwest corner! They're already on the fifth round, and he's defeated every single opponent in the previous four rounds with just one strike!"

"Huh? One strike! For real?"

"Anyway, he's incredibly strong! Just follow me, hurry, hurry, or we won't be able to squeeze through!"

...

Similar conversations were constantly happening all over the plaza.

Drawn like they were by a magnet, spectators began rushing toward the southwest corner in droves. Before long, the areas around most of the other rings became deserted.

In the very center of the surging crowd, a black-haired youth leaned against the edge of the wooden platform. Having waited for a long time, he picked at his ear with a look of boredom.

"Has the next one not arrived yet?" He glanced at the referee.

"Coming right away! Mr. Shano, my apologies for making you wait a little longer!" The referee was a young woman in her twenties with a high ponytail, who replied in a flustered hurry.

Because the crowd around them was growing denser, she was sweating profusely from the heat and the squeeze, yet she couldn't suppress the smile on her lips; she was clearly in a fantastic mood.

How lucky!

To be in charge of supervising such a formidable swordsman on her first time as a referee—if she told the younger students at the dojo about this, they would be green with envy.

Having watched four consecutive matches from up close, she had long since been won over by his masterful swordsmanship.

What’s more, this Mr. Shano was still very young. If his swordsmanship was already this exceptional, what would he be like in the future?

"He's here!"

Her eyes lit up as she looked at a scarred swordsman approaching. She stood on her tiptoes and waved frantically. "Mr. Kirin, over here, over here!"

The scarred swordsman’s expression was cold, a cigar dangling from his mouth. He seemed shrouded in shadow as he stepped onto the wooden platform without a word.

"Hey, that’s Mr. Kirin, the vice-master of the Falling Leaf Dojo, one of the Seven Great Dojos!"

A spectator recognized him and couldn't help but exclaim.

"It really is him!"

"He was the runner-up in the kendo tournament five years ago, wasn't he?"

"A swordsman with such a long-standing reputation is actually participating in the tournament again? As expected... is he still unable to let go of the championship title he missed out on back then?"

On the platform, Shano took in these murmurs.

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze toward the scarred swordsman finally carrying a hint of seriousness.

This guy... he’s different from the small fry before. Just looking at his presence, he’s quite formidable.

If nothing goes wrong, he should be the one person in this entire kendo tournament worth paying attention to—

"I forfeit."

A hoarse voice drifted out along with a puff of smoke.

"Alright, it seems both competitors are in place, so—wait, wait, wait??"

The ponytail girl turned to look at the scarred swordsman in complete astonishment. "Mr. Kirin, what did you say?"

The surrounding noise died down, and the surprised gazes of the audience all focused on Kirin.

*Clatter.* That was the sound of a bamboo sword being tossed aside. Kirin exhaled a cloud of smoke, waved his hand, and said casually, "Don't look at me like that. I saw this kid's third-round match earlier."

"With swordsmanship that terrifying, I admit I'm no match for him. I'm getting on in years; rather than being sent flying and making a fool of myself, I'd rather keep a shred of dignity."

"I-is that so..."

The ponytail girl wanted to say something else, but Kirin had already stepped off the wooden platform. His back, with the cigar still dangling from his mouth, disappeared into the crowd, soon vanishing from sight.

Shano retracted his gaze, looking at the bamboo sword that had landed right at his feet. He frowned almost imperceptibly before suddenly bending down to pick it up.

"This counts as a trophy, I'll take it. No problem with that, right?"

"Eh?" The ponytail girl was stunned, then nodded quickly. "Of course! It was something Mr. Kirin discarded himself, so it's up to you."

"Good."

Shano placed the bamboo sword alongside his own and tucked them back into his waist.

The ponytail girl took a deep breath, suppressed the excitement in her heart, stepped onto the platform, and announced loudly:

"Fifth round of the qualifiers, Shano versus Kirin. The final result: Shano wins!"

"Here, I also announce on behalf of the kendo tournament organizers: Mr. Shano has won all five rounds! There is no need for the revival tournament, and he is officially the first contestant to advance and secure a spot in the top eight!"

All the spectators present had been whispering among themselves, just waiting for her to announce this news.

After a brief silence, thunderous, excited cheers erupted and echoed across the plaza—

"Shano! Shano! Shano!"

————

*Bang!*

In a spacious office, a middle-aged man in luxurious clothing slammed his fist onto the desk and roared in a fit of rage:

"This is the 'nobody' you told me about? A chance encounter? I gave him the most difficult draw, and he still won all five rounds! With strength like this, he's clearly a powerful reinforcement hired by that brat from the Sakuraba family!"

"You were the one who called him a nobody, boss."

The tall, thin swordsman wearing a white fox mask said calmly.

"Eh, is that so? ...No! Is that the point?! How dare you talk back to me!"

The middle-aged man was taken aback, then flew into a rage, grabbed an ashtray from the desk, and hurled it at him.

"That was also based on your intelligence! Tell me, how do we deal with this kid being this strong!"

"And that Kirin! Didn't he always harbor resentment over not winning the championship back then? I thought he came to seek revenge, but he turns out to be a complete coward! He didn't even have the courage to get on the stage and fight!"

"..." The tall, thin swordsman remained silent, his expression unreadable behind the mask.

The middle-aged man’s anger had not yet subsided when he remembered something else:

"By the way, what about that brat from the Sakuraba family? Hasn't he finished yet? How's his record?"

"Four wins in five matches. He lost to another championship favorite, but since he holds a spot in the revival tournament, he should also be able to advance to the top eight later, barring any accidents."

The middle-aged man became even more agitated. He stood up and paced back and forth in the office.

"No! I absolutely cannot let the championship fall into the hands of the Sakuraba family. Otherwise, the reputation of the Sakuraba Dojo will rise again. If they were to make a comeback, it would take quite a bit of effort to deal with them..."

"Hey, White Fox!"

He suddenly turned his head, stared at the tall, thin swordsman, and said coldly:

"While the qualifiers are still ongoing, you go and participate immediately. You must take a spot in the top eight. Right now, you are the only one with the power to keep the championship title in our own hands!"

The tall, thin swordsman frowned slightly.

"Wasn't it agreed that I would only stay in the shadows and wouldn't need to appear in public to do this kind of work?"

"Isn't the situation desperate? Aside from you, who else can reliably stop those two kids? Of course, primarily that Shano—it's still debatable whether the Sakuraba kid can even beat the other qualifiers."

The middle-aged man sneered. "Besides, I'm not asking you to take off the mask. You can use your current fake identity, or change masks. Who the hell would guess who you are?"

"..."

The tall, thin swordsman was silent for a long moment before finally nodding.

"Go, hurry up!"

The middle-aged man waved his hand. Just as the tall, thin swordsman's back was about to disappear outside the door, he suddenly spoke up:

"Tell me, White Fox, you wouldn't go soft, renege on our agreement from back then, and betray me, would you?"

The footsteps outside the door paused.

" ...Asking such a question when you already know the answer is pointless."

A voice devoid of emotion drifted in.

"Haha, good to know!"

The middle-aged man threw his head back and laughed. "Don't forget! Just how terrifying my ability is—it's not something you ordinary people can resist!"

...

In the southeastern area of the plaza.

"What's wrong, Mr. Shano?"

Junichi had just stepped off the wooden platform amidst the cheers. His excitement hadn't yet faded when he was pulled aside by Shano, and he couldn't help but ask in confusion.

"Nothing."

Shano smiled. "First of all, congratulations on easily passing the revival tournament and advancing successfully. However, the top-eight stage won't start until one o'clock this afternoon. There's still plenty of time; how about you come get something to eat with me?"

"Eat now?"

Junichi scratched his head, still dazed, but was forcefully grabbed by Shano and dragged by the arm toward the outskirts of the plaza.

They only stopped after entering a secluded alleyway.

Shano tossed a bamboo sword to the bewildered Junichi.

"This is..."

Junichi raised the bamboo sword, stared at it for a long time, and finally noticed a small line of carved characters. "Eleven o'clock sharp, second floor of the Wisteria Restaurant?"

"It was given to me by Kirin, the vice-master of the Falling Leaf Dojo, my fifth-round opponent." Shano frowned. "It seems he wants to talk to us about something in private. Do you know this guy?"

"Vice-master? Kirin?"

Junichi racked his brains, thinking hard for a long time.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he slapped his palm with his fist:

"I remember! You said vice-master, and I had no impression, but I've seen this name five years ago!"

"That year, when my father was still around, he was responsible for organizing and hosting that year's kendo tournament. He would always bring a list home."

"The list contained the names of swordsmen who had signed up for the tournament but couldn't afford to come due to lack of funds. My father would specifically allocate money to sponsor their travel and lodging one by one—and this Kirin was among them!"

"A list? You were only ten years old that year. Are you sure you're not remembering wrong?"

"I can't be wrong!"

Junichi nodded firmly. "I only looked at that list carefully twice. If it were other names, I wouldn't be sure, but this name is so unique and easy to remember that I still have an impression of it."

"In that case, the most reasonable guess is that he is... no, we should say, our ally?"

Shano was lost in thought.

Recalling Kirin's act of forfeiting the match and the two cups of still-warm coffee from that morning, he twisted his neck, and his bones cracked with a series of pops.

"Then let's go see him. Let's hear what Mr. Kirin wants to tell us. But we shouldn't let our guard down. Bring your sword."