At the very front of the dojo, a middle-aged man with round glasses and long hair tied back sat kneeling on a cushion.
His eyes were narrowed into two thin slits, his lips curved in a gentle smile. At first glance, he looked like any mild, bookish teacher.
However, the moment Aren stepped into the dojo, that smile paused ever so slightly.
Koushirou slowly opened his eyes a fraction. His gaze passed over the dozens of apprentices sweating over their practice and landed with pinpoint accuracy on the slightly ridiculous-looking wooden sword at Aren's waist.
His eyes settled on that sword precisely because it was too ordinary.
So ordinary that even Koushirou, a master swordsman, felt that something was hidden in that block of wood. It resonated with the pure sword intent flowing from the boy's body.
"If you do not mind, young friend..."
Koushirou's voice was not loud, yet it cut cleanly through the noise of the dojo and reached Aren's ears with perfect clarity.
The shouts and kiai inside gradually thinned, then faded away completely.
All the apprentices stopped what they were doing and followed their teacher's gaze, curiosity flashing in their eyes as they stared at the unfamiliar boy standing at the entrance.
Even the green-haired boy who had been hacking at the pillar like a madman stopped and turned around, panting heavily, a fierce glint in his eyes mixed with a hint of puzzlement.
Koushirou rose to his feet. The wide sleeves of his gi fell loosely at his sides, and his whole posture looked relaxed and harmless. [Gi is a martial arts uniform]
"You have come from afar, which makes you a guest. Will you not come in and sit for a while?"
So he noticed.
Aren's fingers rested lightly on the hilt of "Lake Toya." With swordsmanship at Lv.2, his instincts told him that, beneath this man's seemingly gentle demeanor, there was an immense pressure.
This man felt like a placid lake. On the surface all was calm, but beneath, powerful undercurrents flowed.
"Just passing through," Aren said, shaking his head. Since the sign-in was complete, there was no need to stir up extra trouble here. "I was planning to find an inn in the village."
With that, he turned to leave.
"Shimotsuki Village is remote. The tea at the inns is terribly bitter," Koushirou said. He made no move to stop him, only continued to stand there with that same smiling expression, his tone unhurried. "As it happens, I recently received a jar of aged sake from the West Blue. It has been buried for a full twenty years. I dug it up this morning, and the fragrance drifted all the way out into the courtyard..."
Aren's lifted foot froze in midair.
Twenty-year aging.
For someone who aspired to taste every flavor the world had to offer, that kind of regional specialty was more tempting than a secret manual.
His throat suddenly felt dry.
He slowly set his foot back down, turned around, and a bright, friendly smile immediately appeared on his face, as if the one who had coldly refused a moment ago had never existed.
"Since the head of the dojo is so gracious, I would be rude to refuse."
Aren walked into the dojo and under the astonished stares of the apprentices, he headed straight toward Koushirou.
"Father!"
Just then, a clear voice with a hint of irritation rang from a side door of the dojo.
A girl with short, dark blue hair strode out.
She looked a little older than Aren. Her brows and eyes carried a heroic sharpness that did not lose to any boy's. In her hand, she gripped a bamboo sword polished to a shine.
Kuina's expression was not pleasant.
Her father was always polite to everyone, yet his politeness usually held a faint distance.
But today, facing some strange boy who had appeared out of nowhere, her father had not only spoken to him first, he was even planning to bring out that jar of treasured wine he had been saving for years?
That was the wine he had refused to share, even when the village chief had come to ask for a taste.
"Who is this guy?" Kuina walked up beside Koushirou. Her gaze swept across Aren like a blade, finally stopping on the carved wooden sword at his waist. Her eyes were filled with contempt. "Carrying a toy-looking wooden sword like that... did you come here to learn swordsmanship too?"
"Kuina, do not be rude." Koushirou's eyes were still narrowed, but there was a new depth in his tone. "This young friend's sword is no toy. In fact... his foundations may be steadier than yours."
"Steadier than mine?"
Kuina blinked, then let out a short breathy laugh, as if she had just heard something absurd.
Her brows drew together sharply, and in the next instant, the fire of battle flared to life in her eyes.
In this dojo, aside from that cockroach-like Roronoa Zoro who refused to stay down no matter how hard she hit him, no one else was even qualified to make her take them seriously.
And now her father was saying this skinny outsider was stronger than she was?
"If Father says so..."
Kuina slowly raised the bamboo sword in her hand. The tip pointed straight at the bridge of Aren's nose, her gaze as sharp as a little leopard defending its territory.
"Then let me see exactly how much you are worth."