"Is it coming…?"
White Fox suddenly muttered, in a voice only the two of them could hear.
Coming for what?
Shanu grew increasingly impatient. This guy was acting all cryptic—were they even going to fight or not?
He wouldn't clarify, just stood there like a wooden post, making Shanu guess at his intentions.
He hated riddle-people more than anything in his life.
Fine.
If he wasn't going to make a move, Shanu would take matters into his own hands. With that thought, he made a decision, flicked his wrist, and his bamboo sword shot forward.
By the time White Fox noticed and turned, Shanu's blade had already precisely knocked off his mask.
Clack—
The mask hit the ground, revealing a gaunt, weary face of a man just over fifty, displayed to everyone on the giant overhead screen.
The arena fell utterly silent. Even the sound of the mask rolling across the floor could be heard clearly.
Shanu sensed something unusual in the atmosphere, frowning as he studied the face. This person was famous?
Then, as if a boulder had been thrown into a calm lake, the entire crowd erupted! Almost everyone stood up.
"Wait! No way! If I'm not mistaken… that face is—"
"Master Itsuki Sakuraba!"
"He's still alive?!"
What in the world was happening?
Hadn't the famous Itsuki Sakuraba perished five years ago in a storm at sea?!
"Father!!!"
The changing room curtain was suddenly thrown open. Junichi ran out like a madman.
He reached his father, trembling all over, eyes wide, afraid that this moment was just a dream. "It's really you… it really is you…"
"It's me, Junichi."
The gaunt man extended a slightly trembling hand, gently stroking Junichi's head, as if he had a thousand words to say.
But in the end, he only let tears stream down his face, whispering: "Junichi… my Junichi…"
"Father!!!" Junichi could no longer hold back, diving into his father's embrace, clutching his dry, thin chest and crying uncontrollably.
"Waaah… I'm gonna cry too…" The host, standing at the edge of the platform, also started sobbing, removing his glasses to wipe his tears, drawing a sideways glance from Shanu.
He silently stepped back a few paces, leaving the center of the stage for this father-and-son reunion.
"…Junichi, step aside for now, listen. I don't have much time before I lose control; let me say the important things first."
The gaunt man patted his son's head. Junichi wiped his tears and nodded firmly, letting go of his father, understanding the urgency of the moment.
The gaunt man turned to face the audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen, long time no see—or rather, it's been a long time since I've appeared before you as Itsuki Sakuraba."
In a slightly hoarse voice, he continued, "I know what everyone wants to know most: what really happened in the maritime disaster five years ago, and why I am still alive."
Almost all of the spectators instinctively nodded.
"It wasn't a maritime disaster. It was a carefully planned trap."
Recalling the nightmare, Sakuraba's face twisted in pain. "A devil—or rather, someone with devil-like power—named 'Carpenter' targeted this body of mine, which still had some strength. He lured me off the island with a ruse, knocked me unconscious, and while I was out, used his power to control me."
Carpenter?
Most outsiders looked confused, but the local residents were shocked—the name was all too familiar.
This "Carpenter" was the leader of an underground faction that rose about five years ago.
A professional beggar, casino enforcer, loan shark, and operator of several shady enterprises on the island, he was infamous.
Ordinary citizens would avoid him if seen.
Yet publicly, his status was far from that of the island's true power figures.
And Sakuraba Itsuki? Without question, he was one of those true power figures.
A rat from the underground dared to make a move against him? The nerve! The skill!
Could it really be, as Sakuraba said, the power of a devil?
"President Itsuki Sakuraba! Do you mean… that Carpenter is a Devil Fruit user?"
Some knowledgeable spectators immediately grasped the implication and loudly asked.
"That's right!" Sakuraba nodded bitterly. "To be precise, he's a Paramecia-type Devil Fruit user, a puppet master. He can…"
"—turn humans into puppets under his complete control!"
BANG! The dojo doors were suddenly kicked open. A middle-aged man in a luxurious coat, cigar in mouth and face dark, strode in boldly.
It was none other than the notorious "Carpenter."
Two figures followed behind him.
The audience's eyes widened as they realized the two were none other than the town sheriff and Major Tomte, commander of the northern island's 129 Naval Base!
"Wow, truly unexpected, Sakuraba. I underestimated your willpower and rebellious spirit."
Carpenter's cold gaze fixed on the gaunt man on the platform.
"Other puppets only need brainwashing once. But you, special case, show signs of struggle periodically. We re-washed you just last month—what triggered you this time? Let me guess… could it be this brat?"
His gaze shifted to Junichi. Standing behind him, Major Tomte silently raised his flintlock, aiming directly at Junichi.
"Major Tomte! What are you doing?! Why are you obeying a thug and pointing a gun at a child?!"
The crowd erupted in disbelief.
Among them, some Marines from the 129 Base, on leave and watching the match, couldn't believe their eyes. Was this the same kind, upright, benevolent Major they knew?
"I told you—it's the power of a Paramecia-type Puppet Fruit," Sakuraba said with a grim smile.
"Your Major and the sheriff were both secretly controlled by him, just like me. Normally indistinguishable from ordinary people, but at Carpenter's command, they instantly become his puppets."
"Furthermore, controlling one puppet requires a finger. Carpenter has ten fingers—he spares none."
Sakuraba then glanced at the seven dojo masters in the south row, voice hoarse: "So, my old friends… all without exception, fell victim to him."
The audience gasped.
The seven dojo masters remained expressionless, confirming Sakuraba's words.
The spectators surrounding them panicked, shoving and scrambling to retreat to the outer areas.
Some of these spectators were family or close subordinates of the dojo masters.
They suddenly recalled their masters' strange behavior over the past five years—and now, looking at those familiar yet strange faces, they shivered in horror.