The tip of the bamboo sword stopped right in front of Aren's nose.
It still carried the faint warmth of the blue-haired girl's slightly hurried breath.
Aren sighed. His gaze slid past the sword and fell on the girl standing in front of him.
"I mean..." Aren did not push the blade away. Instead he turned his head and looked toward Koushirou, seated at the place of honor. "Is this how your dojo treats its guests? If that jar of wine is this much trouble to drink, I might as well go buy a bottle of rum instead."
His tone was lazy, completely unconcerned by the challenge in front of him.
This attitude, this deliberate indifference, made Kuina's expression grow even darker.
"Stop pretending you are above it all." Kuina flicked her wrist. The bamboo sword cut the air with a crisp whistle and pressed a little closer. "Father says your foundations are solid. Since you are also a swordsman, are you going to run from a challenge?"
The air in the dojo went still in an instant.
The group of apprentices who had been enjoying the show now barely dared to breathe. Only Zoro, with his green hair, kept staring wide-eyed at the carved wooden sword on Aren's waist, as if he wanted to see right through it and uncover its secrets.
"Kuina, stand down."
Koushirou's voice sounded gentle as always, not harsh, yet carrying a weight that left no room for refusal.
Kuina bit her lip. Her fingers around the bamboo sword turned pale from the force of her grip. She held out for a few seconds, then at last dropped her arm, though the look she gave Aren was still full of pure hostility.
Koushirou rose to his feet, slowly straightening his gi as he stepped between them.
He first bowed slightly to Aren. Behind the round frames of his glasses, his eyes curved into thin lines.
"My daughter is a bit overcompetitive. I hope you are not offended, young friend. As for that jar of sake, it is, of course, my treat."
Aren waved a hand, ready to ride that line and end this pointless disturbance.
However, Koushirou's next words shifted the atmosphere in an instant.
"But..." His tone changed lightly as he turned toward the weapon rack at the back of the dojo. From the topmost rack, he took down a long sword, its scabbard pure white.
The moment that blade appeared, a chorus of sharp intakes of breath rang through the dojo.
Even Zoro, who had been fixated on Aren, abruptly widened his eyes, his gaze now glued to that snow-white sheath.
One of the 21 Great Grade Blades... Wado Ichimonji.
Koushirou held the sword with both hands, turned back to face Aren, and spoke.
"I can see that you are no ordinary traveler. Why not let us make a little wager on that."
He gently set the priceless famed blade down on the polished wooden floor and pushed it forward.
"If you can defeat Kuina in a contest of swordsmanship, this Wado Ichimonji will be your prize."
"Father...?"
Kuina's exclamation burst out before she could stop it. The blood drained from her proud face, leaving her stunned and pale.
This sword was the inheritance of the Shimotsuki family, the partner she treasured like her own life.
And her father was wagering it?
Worse, he was wagering it on the chance that she would lose to some outsider who was half a head shorter than she was.
"Sensei..."
Around them, the apprentices were in an uproar, whispering anxiously among themselves.
Aren's previously loose, casual stance finally shifted.
He narrowed his eyes, his gaze resting on the pure white sheath.
Although the system had given him that ridiculous-looking Lake Toya, he understood perfectly well that out on the sea, an extra good blade could mean an extra life.
More importantly, this gentle, squinting uncle was laying a trap for him.
He wanted to use Aren as a whetstone to sharpen Kuina's edge.
"Father, I do not accept this." Kuina's voice trembled slightly with emotion. She snapped her head around and stared at Aren with burning eyes, the rims reddening. "If you think I will lose, then I will prove you wrong. But this sword is mine. No one is taking it away."
The pain of being denied by her father had transformed into unbridled fighting spirit directed straight at the boy in front of her.
Koushirou paid no attention to his daughter's protest. He simply watched Aren quietly, waiting for his answer.
Aren was silent for two seconds, then suddenly smiled.
He lifted a finger and pointed at the unopened jar of aged huadiao.
"Add that jar of wine."
Koushirou blinked, then chuckled.
"Very well, as you wish."
"Deal."
Aren nodded. The lazy, indifferent air around him vanished at once.
He did not lower his stance or take up some formal guard. He merely placed his hand on the hilt of the wooden sword carved with "Lake Toya."
That single, simple movement made Kuina's pupils constrict sharply.
He had not drawn his sword. His posture was full of apparent openings. Yet, for some reason, Kuina felt as if something cold and unseen had locked onto her.
The sensation made goosebumps prickle across her skin.
"Shimotsuki Village, Isshin Dojo, Kuina."
She took a deep breath, forcing down the strange unease in her chest. Her hands tightened on the bamboo sword as she assumed a textbook-perfect middle guard stance.
"Aren, traveler."
Aren replied softly. His fingers brushed the rough grain of the wooden hilt.
Afternoon sunlight slanted through the high windows of the dojo. Dust motes drifting through the beams of light seemed to slow down.
On the sidelines, Zoro clutched his gi with both hands, holding his breath.
Everyone could see it. This was not going to be a simple friendly spar.
"Then let me see how much you are really worth."
With a sharp shout, Kuina's body blurred as she charged.
The wooden floor beneath her feet creaked under the explosive force of her step.
As the top disciple of the dojo, her fundamentals were rock-solid. This vertical strike was pure, direct, and overwhelming, cleaving straight toward Aren's face.
Yet in Aren's eyes, this extremely fast cut seemed almost slowed down.
This was the dynamic vision enhanced by chakra, and the change born from having faced life-and-death pressure.