Chapter: The Finals Arrive
At exactly eleven o'clock, Shanu and Junichi were at the Wisteria Restaurant, where Qilin had arrived right on time.
"You must be Junichi, right?"
Qilin's face showed nostalgia as he gestured with his hands. "I saw you when you were very little, back when I was around the old guildmaster. You probably don't remember me—you were just a tiny kid back then…"
"Let's get to the point."
Junichi put on a serious expression, remembering Shanu's warning. "I know my father helped you out a bit, but that favor can't outweigh the changeability of human hearts. You don't need to go to such lengths."
"You're quite a thoughtful kid." Qilin shook his head helplessly and sighed.
"Let's be straightforward. I couldn't leave this alone, so I came to warn you. Even though you're allowed to compete under the Sakuraba name, winning the championship is impossible. Otherwise… it might get you killed. You'd better give up early."
"Someone's targeting us? The same people who pressured and sabotaged the Sakuraba Dojo back then?"
"I can't say."
Qilin furrowed his brow deeply. "Honestly, I still don't understand why the other dojos suddenly united against Sakuraba back then. Several dojo masters, including the old guildmaster—your father—were good friends. They weren't the type to stab anyone in the back."
"Since four or five years ago, the atmosphere on this island has grown increasingly strange. Everyone seems to have forgotten the original spirit of this Kendo island and only cares about money."
"Especially the Seven Major Dojo masters. It's as if they've all gotten obsessed with money. Sometimes they even disappear for a day or two, attending secret meetings…"
"In short, there are deep waters behind this island."
Qilin's tone was sincere. "I know you two, especially Mr. Shanu, are strong swordsmen, but this isn't something a couple of people can handle. It's best to curb your curiosity and leave this island while you can."
Shanu and Junichi exchanged a glance.
"That's all I have to say. Coming to see you already put me at great risk. I've done my duty, don't expect me to help further."
Qilin shook his head, pushing back his chair. "As you said, the little favor from back then was only enough to get me this far. Farewell, both of you."
They watched him leave down the stairs, his footsteps fading away. Only then did Shanu and Junichi swap seats to sit across from each other.
"Logically speaking, we shouldn't be mixing ourselves into this mess."
Shanu crossed his legs, speaking calmly. "But I know your personality—you wouldn't give up a championship that's within your grasp."
"Uh, Mr. Shanu, you don't have to always use me as a shield."
Junichi spread his hands with a bitter expression. "At this point, even if I wanted to sneak away, I doubt you'd allow it…"
After spending a few days together, Junichi had grown more familiar with Shanu.
This guy seemed calm and reliable at first, but in truth, he was a troublemaker, stubborn as anyone when angered.
"Hey, kid, you pick up bad habits fast."
Shanu rolled his eyes and snapped, "That's right. Unlike you, I'm about to reach the finals. The championship trophy already has my name engraved, along with a 5-million Beli prize. And all those registration fees? They drained everything I had. Who dares block me from taking my money—I'll cut them down!"
"Mm-hmm!" Junichi nodded vigorously. "So, what are we doing now?"
"Idiot. We're at a restaurant, do you even need to ask?" Shanu waved his hand grandly at a waiter. "Of course, we eat first! You can't fight on an empty stomach."
"But this is a high-end restaurant. I just checked the menu—vegetable salads are 5,000 Beli. Your money…"
A dead silence followed.
In the end, Shanu dragged Junichi away, escaping under the waiter's disdainful gaze, and returned to the plaza to line up properly for the free Kendo Tournament soup noodles.
Come to think of it…
They originally just wanted to pay a coin, and now things have spiraled so much that they're eating like homeless wanderers.
What exactly did I come out here to do again?
...
In the afternoon, the quarterfinals and semifinals were held in sequence.
Shanu faced no suspense.
His opponents, like the weaklings from the preliminaries, were all sent flying by a single powerful strike. Spectators began to wonder if he was even participating in Kendo or just playing golf.
Junichi had a much tougher time. He barely won a ten-minute battle in the quarterfinals. His semifinal was scheduled last, so Shanu finished his match first and quietly watched from the sidelines.
"Hm?"
Shanu squinted at the tall, masked swordsman and felt a surge of alarm.
His instincts, sharpened by his physical transformation, told him this man was dangerous—on an entirely different level from any swordsman he had faced before.
"Be careful, Junichi," he whispered to his junior preparing for the match. "This guy is no joke."
"I noticed too," Junichi nodded gravely.
"You noticed? Don't flatter yourself. Anyone in the top eight would be tough to face."
"…Do you have to point that out? Not everyone's as strong as you. Anyone we draw is like spinning a roulette wheel."
A moment later, the two stepped onto the platform, bowing to each other.
Junichi's face was tense, while the tall swordsman quietly stared at him, expression hidden behind his white fox mask.
"Semifinal, second match! White Fox versus Junichi. Winner advances to the finals!" The host, under the audience's anticipation, sharply raised his right hand. "Begin!"
Crack!
The bamboo sword struck. Junichi screamed as he was sent flying off the platform, landing heavily several meters away.
Silence fell.
The audience stared in shock at White Fox, who casually sheathed his sword. Realization hit, and the crowd erupted in astonished chatter:
"This guy… can also kill in one strike, like Mr. Shanu?!"
"What's going on with this tournament? Who even are these monsters?"
"The finals just got interesting! I thought Shanu would easily take it, but now it's anyone's game!"
Amid the uproar, Shanu helped Junichi to his feet, ensuring he was unharmed, then coldly fixed his gaze on the masked White Fox.
The swordsman seemed to sense it, met Shanu's gaze briefly, shook his head, and stepped off the platform.
The host froze, then snapped back to announce loudly:
"Semifinal, second match: White Fox wins! Advancing to the finals to face this year's biggest dark horse, Shanu!"
"As per recent tradition, tonight's final will be held at 7 PM in the indoor dojo, giving participants ample rest."
"——Ticket-holding spectators may enter early! A live broadcast will also be displayed on large screens in the plaza. Stay tuned!"
Rest?
Spectators muttered to themselves. Shanu and White Fox both finished their matches instantly—hardly time to warm up. This year was truly unprecedented. In previous years, the top eight were usually evenly matched; this was something else entirely.
Yet it made people realize the finals would be more thrilling than ever: two monsters facing off. Who would come out on top?
Tickets had to be bought!
Many rushed to the ticket counter, only to discover that even the cheapest seats, costing several thousand Beli, had sold out days ago. No tickets remained.
At that moment, scalpers slinked into the crowd, looking for buyers…
...
Behind a large office desk:
"All tickets sold? People are buying front-row seats for 50,000 Beli?"
The middle-aged man, hearing the report, was ecstatic. "Ticket sales alone will bring in tens of millions. Add the tournament's other revenue—this year's net profit will exceed 200 million!"
"You truly are remarkable, White Fox!"
After hanging up, he lit a cigar, smiling. "Knocking that Sakuraba brat off the platform with one strike—only someone like you, trained in Kendo for over twenty years, could do it. I wasn't wrong about you. Without you, this year's finals wouldn't have drawn such hype!"
"Want one?"
He offered another cigar. "The finals are best-of-five. Try to go all five rounds, then defeat that kid at the last moment. Only then can we attract more spectators next year and inflate ticket prices further!"
White Fox stayed silent, neither speaking nor taking the cigar.
"You ungrateful fool," the man muttered, snatching back the cigar. "Go prepare for your final. I'll watch the broadcast here with a few beautiful ladies. You standing around ruins the mood!"
White Fox silently turned and left.
Walking down the corridor, he saw Shanu and Junichi in the plaza, lining up for the free dinner bento, joking and laughing together—clearly close.
"Why did you have to come back…"
White Fox's gaze lingered briefly, tinged with nostalgia, then turned cold.
He had already given them a chance before.
Finally, he glanced at the middle-aged man's office one last time and strode away.
The money was earned. The act was played out. He no longer wished to stay on this island—it was time to end things.