Ding—Pop!
A coin flicks with the thumb, tossed into the air, and swiftly caught as it falls, repeating in a steady cycle.
Shano strolls leisurely through the dusk-filled alleys, the rhythm of the coin's rise and fall gradually syncing with his steps.
"Hmm?"
He suddenly looks up.
Not far away, a massive pale pink banner is hung above the city gate, inscribed with the words "25th Asakura Island Dojo Tournament" in large letters.
A bulletin board stands to the left, surrounded by a bustling crowd.
"Excuse me, thank you."
With his powerful physique, Shano easily pushes through the crowd, making his way to the bulletin board.
"You damn—"
A few youth who look like ruffians, angry after being pushed aside, turn to create trouble but upon seeing the muscular back of Shano, they quietly step back into place.
"Sword Dao tournament? Any disciple from the Swordsmanship Dojo can participate, entry fee 10,000 Belly, deadline is tomorrow."
"Advance to the semifinals and earn 1 million Belly, champion gets 5 million Belly?"
The rewards aren't bad, Shano feels somewhat tempted.
Unfortunately, his swordsmanship is embarrassingly poor; better not expose it to avoid shame.
More importantly, he has to find a ship to the Goa Kingdom early tomorrow; who knows how long the tournament will last, if it takes a week or even half a month, he won't have the time.
Shano shakes his head and is about to cross the drawbridge into the city to find a place to rest.
Suddenly, by the city wall, he sees a frail youth in a worn-out kendo uniform, staring at the banner while tightly clutching a bamboo blade, his gaze dim and bleak.
Now it seems things can be returned to the rightful owner.
"Here, your money, keep it safe."
His hand abruptly filled with cold hard objects, the frail youth hesitates slightly, gazing up at the burly man whose age is hard to discern.
"What is this...?"
The frail youth opens his palm, still processing what happened, only upon seeing the familiar coins does he realize, murmuring, "Yet another scammer…"
"You don't seem surprised?" Shano raises an eyebrow, "That makes it my turn to be surprised."
"Ah, I could roughly guess the situation."
Still gazing at his palm, the frail youth says, "After all, it's my mother's hometown; spent a few years here as a kid. I've heard a bit about the manners of those professional beggars."
"Then why give money?"
"...There are indeed real poor people, in case it helps."
"Your spirit is commendable, but that old chap seems definitely off, your discernment abilities need improvement."
"...Yes, from childhood, I've had little contact with the outside world, my experience is poor, the teacher says the same."
"Teacher?"
Shano's gaze shifts to the bamboo blade, wrapped in old cloth strips on the handle, clearly used for long, "A Sword Dao teacher?"
"Yes, maybe you've never heard his name."
At this mention, the frail youth finally looks up with reverence in his voice:
"But, Mr. Koushirou is undeniably an admirable swordsman! It's the pride of my life to be his disciple!"
Koushirou?
Shano is taken aback; he merely intended to return some coins, now with an unexpected encounter?
Is this the reward for good deeds?
He suddenly becomes interested, "So, you've come all the way from Isshin Dojo?"
"Eh! How did you know?" The other opens his eyes wide, "Have you been to Shimotsuki Village too?"
"Not yet."
Then it all depends on you to take me there.
Shimotsuki Village came into existence not long ago, somewhat like a hidden paradise, much more remote than Cocoyashi Village.
Few merchant ships visit throughout the year, making travel difficult without a private vessel.
Since the frail youth is Koushirou's disciple and has made it here, there must be a way to return, Shano just needs to follow.
This one-month long sea journey is meant to glean opportunities here and there.
If no chance arises, never mind, but fate with Liu Zoro here must not be missed.
"Heard of Mr. Koushirou's name before, that's why." Shano says, "So, you're here to represent Isshin Dojo in this Sword Dao Tournament?"
"No, no, no, I don't have the skill to represent Mr. Koushirou."
The frail youth frantically flails his hands, as if afraid to tarnish the reputation of Isshin Dojo, "Besides, Asakura Island's Sword Dao tournament doesn't accept outside disciples, only officially registered dojo on the island are qualified."
"As for my other identity..."
Suddenly remembering, he bows deeply, "Ah! Haven't introduced myself, truly rude! I am Sakuraba Junichi, the current head of Sakuraba Dojo on the island."
Dojo head?
Only now does Shano notice that Junichi's kendo uniform sleeves and left chest are embroidered with a faded family crest.
Though washed white and vague, it vaguely resembles a blooming cherry blossom.
"Shano." He extends a hand for a light shake, a greeting made, "How about saying more somewhere else?"
...
Southwest of the city, in a modest tavern.
"Two glasses of Binke's Fine Wine, please."
"Two thousand Belly."
Pop! Shano lays two large bills on the counter, grabs the drinks, and heads to a corner.
He still hasn't spent any of the 50,000 Belly given by Belle-Mere, originally intended for food and lodging on Gat, but due to the King of the Near Sea incident, not a dime has been spent.
Hence, his finances remain relatively sound.
"No, isn't it inappropriate, I'm only fifteen." Sakuraba Junichi hesitantly remarks, never having entered a tavern, "Underage, I shouldn't really…"
"No worries, it's low in alcohol content." Shano responds absent-mindedly, his full attention on the wine glass, it's his first encounter with the renowned drink.
Binke's Fine Wine is not merely a song, it is quite popular in the East Sea.
Rum, white wine, and orange juice are mixed at fixed proportions to evoke a refreshing taste, widely favored.
The alcohol content is around ten percent, hardly intoxicating.
Is that so?
Sakuraba Junichi awkwardly cups the wine glass, watching the liquid swirl inside, suddenly feeling thirsty, finally giving in, tilting his head back for a gulp.
Just then, Shano's leisurely voice rings out:
"By the way, I'm thirteen, a bit younger than you."
Poof—
Spitting out all he drank without tasting, Junichi can't bother feeling sorry, just looking across the round table at Shano with wide eyes.
This is thirteen?
"Why so surprised."
Shano leisurely enjoys the drink, a mouthful of icy sweet wine soothingly slips down, leaving him content and satisfied.
What mischief, those sailors egging him on that night swayed him astray, else he'd still be a good lad abstaining from drinks.
"Let's talk about you instead."
Setting the glass down, he looks at the still shocked Junichi, "Let me guess... your family's dojo has fallen into decline?"
Not much of a guess needed, really.
A worn-out kendo uniform doesn't imply a wealthy young master playing dress-up.
"Yes, quite shameful to admit."
Junichi lowers his head, barely audible, "My father was the strongest swordsman on Asakura Island; the Sakuraba Dojo he founded was once the island's most renowned dojo."
"But... ever since my father's passing five years ago, the dojo has been oppressed by other dojos on the island, with senior disciples leaving one after another, eventually the land was reclaimed by creditors. If not for Mr. Koushirou taking me in, I might have died from hunger at sea."