Chapter 11: Actually, I'm Also Fairly Skilled in Swordsmanship

For the next few years, I devoted myself to practicing swordsmanship at the Isshin Dojo. Master Goro was very kind to me, but deep down, I remained dissatisfied, always dreaming of one day restoring the dojo to its former glory.

Especially a few months ago, when a visitor from Asazakura Island came to see the master. I asked him about the Sakuraba Dojo, but the guest was stunned and said he had never even heard of it!

This—this simply cannot be...

Junichi clenched his fists tightly, his teeth grinding audibly. "I can't accept this! If my father were still alive, how could this have happened? Back then, the Sakuraba family was renowned throughout Asazakura Island! Everyone knew of us!"

"It's all my fault! I’m too incompetent! I couldn’t inherit my father’s legacy and responsibilities, couldn’t become a swordsman capable of standing on my own. That’s why the dojo has fallen into ruin!"

"Stop, stop." Shano’s skin prickled; he quickly reached out to interrupt.

"Enough already! I can’t stand it—such a young kid talking about responsibility and restoring the dojo. Tell me, how old were you when your father died?"

Junichi hesitated but answered honestly, "Ten years old."

"Exactly," Shano shrugged. "You said your senior disciples all ran off, right? When even adults can’t change the situation, what could a ten-year-old do?"

"What’s with this? Crying and blaming yourself—who are you trying to impress, some kind of masochist?"

"Remember, instead of wearing yourself down, it’s better to wear others down. Otherwise, you’ll spiral into endless anxiety and might end up hanging yourself someday."

He spoke with the tone of someone who had been through it all. "Your immediate task is to train diligently under Master Goro. When you’re tired, vent your anger at those who let the dojo fall, then keep training. Your so-called fault? It’s clearly theirs!"

Junichi was stunned.

This guy, younger than him, spoke with such wisdom.

"But my swordsmanship is already quite strong..." Junichi said eagerly. "This time I came back to Asazakura Island for the swordsmanship tournament. I want to win the championship and show the seven great dojos that the Sakuraba family is still standing! But... but..."

"Can’t afford the entry fee?" Shano glanced at him sideways.

"Yes."

Junichi hung his head dejectedly, then grew frustrated again. "You saw the notice on the board, right? The entry fee alone is ten thousand Belli. You have to buy their standardized kendo uniform and shinai, and they sell them at a ridiculous price. Altogether, it’s nearly twenty thousand Belli."

"Not to mention, only disciples registered under the seven great dojos can sign up. Outsiders have to find a way to pay to join a dojo... It’s madness! So greedy, yet they dare call it the most prestigious kendo event in the Eastern Sea..."

"Kendo and dojos that teach swordsmanship shouldn’t be like this!"

Bang! He slammed his fist on the table, shouting, "Why must the seven great dojos be like this? When the Sakuraba family founded the tournament, there was never any fee. They even sponsored travel expenses for impoverished swordsmen. That atmosphere back then... how did it become so ugly now? Don’t they have any pride or honor as swordsmen?"

"Shut up! Really... you’re making it so loud the beauty can’t even speak properly. Shut your mouth, you brat!"

A man with golden-rimmed glasses sitting at the next table, who’d been flirting with a hostess, slammed the table too, rolling up his sleeves as if to come over and teach Junichi a lesson.

Shano turned his face coldly.

"Sorry, please continue."

The man in glasses immediately sat back down at lightning speed.

Realizing his outburst, Junichi hurriedly stood and bowed to all the other patrons watching. Then he sat back down, head lowered, silent, his tightly clenched fists trembling slightly.

Shano gazed quietly at the slender youth before speaking suddenly, "I want to confirm two things with you."

"W-what?" Junichi looked up in confusion.

"The registration for the kendo tournament ends tomorrow, right? When does the competition start, and how many days does it last?"

"Starts the day after tomorrow," Junichi replied, shaking his head. "There’s no real schedule—it’s all decided in one day. Morning preliminaries, afternoon semifinals, and the finals at night."

"So it only takes one day." Shano nodded. "Got it. The second thing: the Sakuraba Dojo is still officially registered, right? You can register directly?"

"Yes." Junichi hesitated. "Actually, I don’t understand why the seven dojos haven’t removed Sakuraba yet. Maybe they’re afraid of bad publicity since the tournament was founded by my father..."

Suddenly realizing something, he looked up excitedly. "You mean, you’re willing to lend me money to sign up?"

"No," Shano shook his head, then thought for a moment and added, "I can lend you money, but what I really mean is maybe you could give me a disciple status at the Sakuraba Dojo—like vice director or something. That way, I can also enter the tournament."

"Huh? You?!"

"Why the suspicious look? Be careful, or I might change my mind and not lend you the money."

Shano set down his empty wine glass on the table, holding a lemon slice in his mouth as he stood, stretched lazily, and smiled warmly. "There’s something I forgot to tell you."

"Actually, I’m a swordsman with some skill in swordsmanship myself."

...

Half an hour later, at the registration desk.

With his elbow holding newly purchased standard kendo attire and a brand-new shinai, Shano winced as he put away his wallet and handed a set to Junichi as well.

"This is really expensive."

On the way back to the inn, Shano cursed the seven great dojos again. "This fabric, this cheap sword—splinters still sticking out—and they dare charge fifteen thousand Belli a piece? That’s just ripping people off! With such a high barrier, how do so many people still rush to get slaughtered?"

The fifty thousand Belli Belmer gave them was gone in an instant.

If Shano hadn’t had some spare change saved up, they might not have had enough for the inn tonight and would have had to sleep on the street together.

"After all, the prize money is still generous. And becoming champion... no, even just making the semifinals is a huge honor for swordsmen in the Eastern Sea."

Junichi followed closely beside him. "Several local newspapers in the Eastern Sea will come too. The champion would instantly gain fame. Who doesn’t dream of that? But..."

"But what?" Shano stopped in his tracks and turned to him.

"But I still doubt whether you’re a real swordsman," Junichi said sincerely. "Mr. Shano... let’s just call you that for now. I’m grateful for your guidance and for lending me a big sum of money, but you really don’t look like a swordsman. Who goes out without carrying their sword?"

The sword was in his backpack’s compartment; Junichi just couldn’t see it.

Shano muttered to himself.

After getting the “authentic” blade, he’d thrown away the small wooden sword. It was still shorter than his arm and would’ve just made him look like a clown.

"Your doubt is justified," Shano said, looking down at the skinny boy. "But now you have a sword, don’t you?" He weighed the standard shinai in his hand and grinned. "How about we find an open space and practice together?"