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"Number 10 vs Number 75 Arena 1"
" Number 21 vs Number 85 Arena 5"
"Number 33 vs Number 56 Arena 8. "
"Number 1 vs Number 99 Arena10."
When Ryu heard his number being called, his heart leapt with excitement. He strode toward Arena 10 without hesitation, his steps light and eager. Upon entering the battle arena, a maid approached him respectfully and placed a wooden sword in his hands before moving to his opponent and handing him one as well.
Ryu gripped the wooden firmly, he took a deep breath, his eyes shining with anticipation as he prepared to face the upcoming battle.
Ryu looked his opponent standing across from him dead in the eye. The boy was chubby and around ten years old, nearly three times his size, his bulky frame casting a long shadow across the arena floor. His tan skin glistened faintly under the lights, and his short brown hair was cut unevenly. Dull brown eyes held a mix of arrogance and curiosity as they stared back at him. The boy's face was utterly ordinary—nothing sharp or memorable about it—yet the sheer disparity in their builds made him an intimidating presence. Despite this, he shifted his weight casually, as though confident that his size alone was more than enough to secure victory.
The boy was wearing an ordinary black kimono and wooden sandals. He smirked arrogantly at Ryu, and when Ryu saw that smug expression, he frowned in anger.
At that moment, a samurai stepped into the battle arena, his sharp gaze sweeping over Ryu and the chubby boy as he spoke.
"Fight with honor. You represent not just your clans or dojos, but the dignity of the entire village."
"I have the authority to stop this fight at any moment. The battle will end If either of you falls out of the arena, surrenders, or is knocked unconscious. Do I make myself clear?"
Both Ryu and the chubby boy nodded their heads in understanding.
"Yes sir."
"Good now begin."
The samurai waved his hand, signaling the start of the battle. The moment stretched on—but neither Ryu nor the chubby boy made their move, both standing perfectly still.
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With Musashi
From the balcony above, Musashi and the others fixed their gaze on the battle arena where Ryu fought. A sly smirk spread across Sanada's face as he spoke.
"I'm betting 10,000 B that Ryu-kun loses this round. Anyone brave enough to bet against me?"
Harada and the others erupted into loud laughter at his words, but Musashi remained silent, his eyebrows twitching with barely contained anger.
It took only seconds for the last of his restraint to snap, and he erupted into a furious yell aimed at Sanada and the others.
"Are you old farts looking down on my grandson? He has incredible talent in swordsmanship. Just wait and see—he'll shut all of you up soon enough."
Isshin chuckled softly, amusement dancing in his eyes, before he finally spoke.
"Musashi, I respect you as a samurai, but look at who your grandson is about to face.The kid Ryu-kun is fighting is at least three times his size. Your grandson looks thin as a twig next to him."
"A true swordsman doesn't need only technique; he also needs a strong body. That's why female swordsmen will never surpass male swordsmen, no matter how skilled they become."
Musashi's eyes narrowed sharply at Isshin's words, and he clenched his fist so hard that his knuckles turned white. Just as he opened his mouth to retort, Oda interrupted him, saying.
"Musashi, you told us you only taught Ryu-kun the basics of swordsmanship. Do you honestly think your grandson can beat that other kid? I'm willing to bet 20,000 B that Ryu-kun will lose this round."
Date and Harada smirked in amusement, and the two of them placed a bet as well.
"I bet 30,000 B Ryu-kun will lose."
"Me too. I bet 50,000 B he will lose."
Sanada then turned to Musashi, a sly smirk playing on his lips, and asked.
"What about you, Musashi-kun? Are you going to bet on Ryu-kun or against him?"
At Sanada's provocation, Musashi slammed his palm onto the table with such force that it shattered into splinters instantly.
"BAAM."
"HOW DARE YOU, YOU OLD FARTS, LOOK DOWN ON MY GRANDSON?! HE'LL CRUSH THAT SNOT-NOSED BRAT! I BET 100,000 B THAT RYU-KUN WILL CRUSH THAT KID!"
Sanada and the others burst into loud laughter—Isshin joining in with a hearty chuckle—before their gazes settled on Ryu, who assumed the basic swordsmanship stance.
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With Ryu
The chubby boy looked at Ryu with disdain, a smug smirk spreading across his face.
Ryu ignored the disdainful look from the chubby boy and assumed the basic swordsmanship stance. The boy, however, chuckled at the sight.
"Do yourself a favor and surrender, kid. You don't stand a chance."
"Ryu gazed at the chubby boy with a hint of boredom and asked,"
"So, are you here to talk, or are you finally going to fight?"
Everyone watching Ryu's battle—both audience and competitors—erupted in laughter at his reply.
The chubby boy's face flushed a deep crimson, a mix of fury and humiliation burning in his eyes.
His lips trembled, and his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Gritting his teeth, he glared at Ryu with undisguised hatred, his voice quivering with barely contained rage as he barked.
"I'll beat you until you're black and blue, then you'll be on your knees, begging me for forgiveness."
Without any warning, the chubby boy let out a roar and charged at Ryu like a raging bull, swinging his wooden sword wildly in all directions.
Ryu raised his wooden sword high, muscles tensing as he prepared to block the rapid flurry of strikes aimed at him.
"BAAM, BAAM, BAAM,, BAAM, BAAM."
Each time Ryu blocked one of the chubby boy's strikes, he skidded backward three or four feet, his arms numbing from the sheer force behind each blow.
'His strikes are too heavy. I can't match his strength. I need to find another way to fight him—fast.'
Ryu began retreating, but his opponent charged at him like a raging bull, swinging his wooden sword wildly with each step.
Ryu began breathing slowly and rhythmically, his eyes fixed on the chubby boy's shoulders and arms, studying every movement.
"SWISH, SWISH, SWISH, SWISH, SWISH."
Ryu dodged the chubby boy's heavy swings with quick sidesteps and low ducks, his breathing rhythm were steady and controlled despite the relentless assault.
When Ryu reached the edge of the fighting arena, he began taking deep breaths, unconsciously holding them longer than usual but maintaining the same rhythm.
For some reason, Ryu's face contorted in pain. His muscles and heart felt like they were on fire, and sweat poured down his body.
The chubby boy ignored Ryu's pained expression and charged once more, swinging his wooden sword toward the side of Ryu's head. In that instant, Ryu spun gracefully, almost like he was dancing, dodging the strike at the last second and positioning himself behind the boy.
At that moment, Ryu drew a breath deeper than any he had taken in the battle, his muscles burning violently and his heart pounding faster than ever.
Despite the searing pain he was experiencing, Ryu swung his wooden sword with all his strength at the chubby boy's exposed back.
"BAAM."
"CRACK."
Ryu's wooden sword crashed into the chubby boy's exposed back, hurling him out of the arena with a scream of pain, while the sword splintered into a shower of wooden shards.
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In the Balcony
Date's eyes widened as he watched Ryu's sword swing, and he muttered in disbelief.
"That was."
Harada narrowed his eyes, focusing his gaze intently on Ryu.
"No doubt about it."
Oda turned his head, glaring at Musashi with anger, and began scolding him.
"Musashi, you old fart! Are you insane? Teaching your grandson your breathing technique is too dangerous! He could hurt himself—or, in the worst-case scenario, even die. His body isn't mature or strong enough to handle that kind of strain; he's only three years old!"
Musashi's eyebrows twitched in irritation at Oda's accusation, and he shot back a sharp retort.
"I haven't taught him my breathing technique yet, you old fool! I'm just as surprised as you are."
Oda scoffed at Musashi's reply, refusing to believe a single word. He was about to continue scolding him when Sanada stepped in.
"Oda, what Musashi said is true. I have sparred countless times with Musashi—his breathing technique is incredibly flexible. But Ryu-kun's breathing just now was too violent and rigid; it's unrefined. It bears some resemblance to Date's breathing technique. If I'm correct, Ryu-kun either used this technique unconsciously or somehow discovered it in the midst of the battle just now."
Oda and the others widened their eyes in shock at Sanada's analysis, then they turned to Musashi, who wore a small, prideful smile.
Harada narrowed his eyes and fixed his gaze on Musashi as he asked.
"Musashi, do you think Ryu-kun used the breathing technique unconsciously, or did he somehow learned it in the midst of battle?"
Musashi thought for a moment before answering the question honestly.
"To be honest, I'm not sure… Ryu-kun is the most talented child I've ever trained."
"When I trained him in the basics of swordsmanship, a single glance at a stance, a swing, a thrust, even footwork or a defensive maneuver was enough for him to master it completely."
"I never performed my breathing technique in front of him. I was afraid that if he learned it by chance, he would end up hurting himself, just like Ishizuki did back in Wano."
When Oda and the others heard this, they closed their eyes in sorrow and offered a quiet prayer for Ishizuki.
After Musashi finished praying for Ishizuki he continued.
"The only reason I didn't teach him anything beyond the basics is that I wanted him to build a solid foundation, develop muscle memory, and avoid growing arrogant because of his talent."
He gave a proud, wide smirk as he glanced at Sanada and the others.
"To be honest with all of you, it took him less than a single day to completely master the basics of swordsmanship."
Musashi paused and looked at Sanada and the others, smiling proudly, and they were amazed at what they were hearing.
Musashi then gazed softly at his grandson, who was breathing hard, and continued.
"I always believed that the talent I witnessed in Ryu-kun was just the tip of the iceberg, and today he proved me right."
"Whether he used the breathing technique unconsciously or not doesn't matter—his stamina won't hold out long enough for him to use it continuously, so we don't need to worry about him hurting himself."
Sanada and the others nodded in agreement, but Isshin looked at Musashi and asked.
"Tell me, Musashi, how did your grandson dodge that sword strike at the last moment? He's too young to awaken Haki."
Musashi smirked upon hearing the question and answered Isshin.
"Ryu-kun had always been highly observant. I had trained him extensively in defensive maneuvers, so it was easy for him to read that clumsy sword strike and dodge it."
"But as he dodged, I noticed he was using a crude version of the breathing technique, which sharpened his senses and allowed him to anticipate the trajectory of that sword strike."
Isshin and the others nodded after hearing the answer, and Musashi extended his palm toward Sanada and the others, a sly smirk playing on his lips.
"I win our bet hand over the money."
Sanada and the others had little tic marks appear over their eyebrows as anger flared, and they started yelling furiously at Musashi.
"YOU INSUFFERABLE OLD FOOL."
"BWAHAHAHAHA!"
Isshin and Musashi burst out laughing when they saw the angry expressions on Sanada and the others.
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With Ryu
"The winner is number 99. Please step down from the fighting arena."
Ryu nodded and bowed respectfully to the samurai, then stepped down from the arena.
Lost in thought, Ryu replayed the battle he had just fought over and over in his mind.
'How did I unleash that strength? It felt as if every ounce of my power had been poured into that swing.'
''Even my senses felt too sharp—I could see the trajectory of his sword swings with unnerving clarity, every strain and stiffness in his muscles laid bare to me.'
Ryu then walked into the nearby shade, noticing he was sweating profusely and feeling thoroughly exhausted.
'Damn… I'm exhausted—and starving. I need to figure out how I unleashed that strength so I can use it again in the upcoming rounds. I don't have time to relax. I only won that fight by sheer luck, and I refuse to rely on luck again. Winning that way is far too disgraceful.'
Ryu's eyes sharpened with anger as he recalled his victory in the first preliminary round. He sank into a cross-legged position, closed his eyes, and replayed every moment of the fight in his mind.
Many participants glanced at Ryu, their eyes wary, though he remained oblivious.
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Poll
A) Mc create his own crew (1)
B) Mc join Hawkeye crew (1)
C) Mc join red-haired pirates (4)
D) Mc join revolutionary army (1)
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