One Piece: It All Started When I Found Shanks' Arm

Chapter 13: I'm a Good Person, Too

"We don't have his specific identity yet. There's no matching data on hand."

The tall, thin swordsman wearing the white fox mask shook his head. "However, a beggar at the pier witnessed him getting off a passing cargo ship the night before last."

"His meeting with the Sakuraba kid was likely just a coincidence, a way to trick the boy into getting a spot in the tournament."

"A nameless nobody who doesn't know his place."

The lavishly dressed middle-aged man lifted his coffee cup, gently stroking its side. "Then give him the same treatment as the Sakuraba kid. Stuff his group with some troublesome opponents."

"Yes, Boss."

The line at the registration desk was incredibly long.

While waiting, Shane looked around idly. After a moment, his gaze fell upon a curved wall on the north side of the plaza. Seven dojo crests were arranged in a row on the wall, but right in the middle, there was a large, jarringly blank space. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to have been recently repainted.

"The Sakuraba crest used to be painted there, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Junichi nodded sadly. "There were actually two emblems erased. One was our Sakuraba Dojo's crest, and the other was for the Kendo Guild."

"The Kendo Guild? Did your father establish that too?"

"Not entirely. To be precise, it was with the masters of several other dojos. My father played a leading role, I suppose, and was later elected to serve as the guild's president."

Shane made a 'tsk' sound. "Sounds like your father was highly respected. From what you said before about how the Sakuraba Dojo was suppressed after his death, I thought he must have angered a lot of people."

"They probably felt that I, having taken over as dojo master, was unworthy of the position," Junichi said with a bitter smile.

"Whoa, there you go again. I told you to stop with the self-blame. Keep it in mind, kid! ...By the way, you mentioned before that your father died in an accident five years ago?"

"Yes, it was a shipwreck," Junichi nodded, a reminiscent look on his face. "It happened just a few days before the kendo tournament. There was a storm in the sea north of the island. The guild received a distress signal saying two ships carrying swordsmen for the tournament had capsized."

"My father was working in the guild office that day. He put down the Den Den Mushi and immediately rushed out with a rescue team. Several of my senior brothers from the dojo went with him. In the end... none of them ever came back."

Shane fell silent for a moment.

"Your father was a good man," he sighed. "Unfortunately, in this sea, good people don't always get good rewards."

"..." Junichi didn't know what to say. After a long pause, he whispered, "Thank you."

Shane patted him on the back.

"By the way, there's something else that's pretty strange," Junichi said, remembering something as he looked at the row of dojo crests. "Back when the guild existed, there was a place for everyone to discuss things. The adults would argue all the time. When disciples from different dojos met on the street, they were often competitive and would challenge each other to duels to determine their rankings."

"But ironically, after the guild was gone, the Seven Great Dojos slowly started to act as one, like a close-knit family. For example, this new rule about paying to participate in the tournament was decided and implemented as soon as the rumors started, without any reported disputes or opposition."

The more he thought about it, the less it made sense. He slapped his head in frustration. "Argh~, I feel like I'm burning out my brain cells. It's just so weird. It doesn't make any sense..."

Like a close-knit family?

Shane fell into deep thought. Suddenly, a jolt went through his mind as if he'd sensed something. He whipped his head around and squinted at the nearby café.

The ground floor entrance was crowded, but the second-floor balcony was empty. His sharp gaze scanned up and down, finally locking onto a specific spot—on a round table near the balcony railing, two cups of coffee, not yet cold, were still emitting wisps of steam.

"What's wrong?" Junichi asked curiously.

"Nothing."

Shane shook his head slightly and retracted his gaze. He looked at the line in front of them, which was now much shorter, and smiled.

"Let's not talk about this for now. It's almost our turn to draw lots. I hope we don't end up in the same group too early. How about we both storm our way into the finals and take first and second place?"

"Alright! Let's do our best!" Junichi clenched his fist and pumped it in the air. "And! Don't get that look on your face like you've already won. When we get to the final stage, you better be careful. I won't be defeated so pathetically again!"

The results of the draw were announced quickly.

Shane was in Group B, and Junichi was in Group C.

According to the preliminary rules, they each needed to fight five rounds against contestants from Group A and Group D, respectively. Only those with a perfect winning streak would be the first to advance to the top eight.

"Ha, now we won't have to face each other in the preliminaries at all," Junichi said, his mood lightening considerably. He whistled as he held the draw sheet.

"Well then, Mr. Shane, I'm heading to the Group C area. See you at noon?"

"Yeah, go on. I'll finish my matches as quickly as possible and come find you."

After watching Junichi leave, Shane glanced one more time at the café before heading to his assigned competition area.

By now, most of the wooden stages scattered across the plaza were occupied, with matches at various stages of progress. Some were just beginning, while others had already finished, with the fighters resting below. With so many swordsmen participating in the preliminaries, this was the most efficient way.

"Preliminary Area AB, seventh match! Contestant number 120, Shane, versus contestant number 28, Xika!"

A crowd immediately gathered around a corner stage. As the staff member's announcement ended, the two contestants took their positions at opposite ends of the stage.

Xika was a bald, burly man, standing at an impressive height of about two meters and thirty centimeters. The bamboo sword in his hand was noticeably oversized, its thickness and length drawing attention.

"You can choose different models when you buy the bamboo sword?" Shane asked, slightly surprised.

"You don't even know that? Ha, what a moron!" The bald Xika laughed boisterously. "Some little chick from who-knows-where. It's your bad luck to run into Lord Xika in the first round."

"But don't worry, I won't let you suffer for too long. Your Lord Xika is a kind-hearted, good person. I'll end your pain as quickly as possible!"

"You two, remember the rules! You may only attack each other with your bamboo swords. No direct contact with hands or feet is allowed! The one knocked off the stage loses, and their opponent wins and advances to the next round! Do you understand?!"

Both sides nodded.

"Good! Then I declare," the referee raised his hand sharply, "the match officially begins!"

The moment his voice fell.

BAM!

A deep, heavy thwack echoed.

Accompanied by a scream, the massive, two-meter-plus body was sent flying, crashing onto the ground several meters away with a loud thud.

"What a coincidence. I'm a good person, too," a calm voice said from the stage.

The surrounding audience was dead silent. The referee's eyes were vacant, his hand still frozen in mid-air, not yet having completed its downward swing.

Shane tucked the bamboo sword back into his belt, turned to the referee who had solidified into a statue, and offered a polite smile.

"Excuse me, I'm in a hurry. May we start the next match now?"