"Bring him into the Navy?!"
"How's that even possible—he's a…"
Aokiji started to protest, about to point out that the man was a gladiator, but midway through his words, he stopped.
Come to think of it, the Navy wasn't particularly picky about backgrounds. As long as one's identity was clear, they weren't a pirate, and hadn't committed unforgivable crimes in any World Government member nation, they could still become a marine.
Aokiji didn't know that Kyros had entered the arena as a convicted murderer—but even if he did, it wouldn't have mattered much.
Kyros had already been pardoned by the king of Dressrosa, after all. The Navy wouldn't go so far as to cut down a nation's pardoned citizen with its own blade—especially when that man hadn't committed any more crimes since.
"How about it, Kuzan? Let's go ask him later!"
"At the very least, let me spar with him privately—I really want to cross swords with that guy!"
Yoriichi spoke with bright excitement, his eagerness undisguised.
For swordsmen, a duel could be divided into two aspects: technique and strength. In terms of speed, power, and perception, Yoriichi far surpassed Kyros. But putting those aside, purely on the matter of skill, Kyros was someone worth defeating.
"Uh… fine," Aokiji said at last. "We'll go ask later. But don't get your hopes up too high."
"Chances are, he won't want to become a marine."
"I've never been to Dressrosa before," he continued, "but I've heard about this colosseum. Some of the gladiators fight to hone themselves. Some are death row prisoners. And others… are slaves."
"Most of them are just consumables."
Aokiji didn't have the heart to dampen Yoriichi's enthusiasm completely, but he also didn't want his friend's expectations to soar too high—because the greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment.
"It's fine," Yoriichi replied casually. "We're just going to ask, that's all."
"Who knows—maybe he'll be interested."
Having decided, the two of them left their seats, heading backstage to find Kyros. But naturally, the arena staff weren't about to let two strangers meet one of their star gladiators for no reason.
Kyros, unlike the free gladiators, was still technically a criminal. In other words, he had no freedom.
That was when Aokiji's identity as a Marine Headquarters officer became useful. Once his status was confirmed, the officials arranged for an escort to lead the two of them to Kyros.
The place wasn't what Yoriichi had imagined at all. Kyros's "quarters" turned out to be a cell within the arena itself. Yoriichi had thought they would at least give their moneymaker a decent room.
It was a small cell, roughly ten square meters, surrounded by stone walls. A narrow vent near the ceiling was barred with steel rods barely thick as a thumb, the gaps small enough that only a cat might squeeze through.
The furnishings were sparse and obvious at a glance—a bed, a simple table and chair, a squat toilet connected to the room, and a crude washbasin. On it lay a faded yellow towel, half a bar of soap, a toothbrush and cup, and a small tin of tooth salt.
Kyros, having finished his match, was already back in his "room." His sword leaned quietly against the wall.
It was easy to tell that, while he lived in a cell, Kyros wasn't treated quite like a prisoner. He had some privileges, and no real restraints on his movements.
With his strength, if he really wanted to, he could easily break out of this arena—so long as he had a sword in hand.
Aokiji and Yoriichi stepped into the room, taking in their surroundings. Kyros, meanwhile, looked at the two unexpected visitors with faint surprise, his bright eyes studying them in turn.
He'd already been told that someone from Marine Headquarters wanted to see him—so this tall man must be that officer. But when he saw Aokiji's face, he couldn't help being taken aback.
So young—and already a marine officer?
"You two… marines—what business do you have with me?"
Kyros's voice carried a hint of hesitation, like someone unused to conversation.
He was a completely different person from the fierce warrior seen in the arena.
Before Aokiji could reply, Yoriichi stepped forward, extending his hand with a friendly smile.
"Hello. My name's Yoriichi Tsugikuni. I'm not officially a marine—at least not yet."
"Kyros, I really admire your fighting technique. I was wondering if you'd be willing to spar with me."
"Not in the arena—just a private match."
"To be honest," Yoriichi added with a grin, "I came here as your fan."
Every word was meant to flatter Kyros, as if afraid he might refuse.
"S–spar?" Kyros repeated, visibly confused. For him, every match in the arena was a battle to the death. Sparring—that was a word he'd never heard before.
Kyros lowered his head to look at the young man before him—barely a little over one meter seventy tall, with a boyish, almost delicate face. No matter how he looked at him, Kyros couldn't bring himself to think seriously about sparring with this childlike youth.
If not for the black-sheathed katana in Yoriichi's hand, Kyros wouldn't even have considered him qualified to duel.
Sparring? He was more afraid of accidentally killing the boy.
"I—I've never sparred with anyone before," Kyros said after a moment's hesitation. "All my life, every battle has been to the death."
"I'm afraid I might not be able to hold back. If that's what you two came here for, then I'm sorry—I can't help you."
Though Kyros reached out to shake Yoriichi's hand, he squatted slightly as he spoke, his tone like that of an adult humoring a child. His words, gentle as they were, still carried rejection.
"Uh…" Yoriichi blinked, catching the nuance in Kyros's tone. He understood that the man meant well, that there was genuine concern behind his words—but still, he couldn't help feeling slightly underestimated.
Even so, Yoriichi didn't take offense. Judging by appearances was natural, after all. And since he had entered the State of Nothingness, his presence was completely calm—no hint of hostility, no sense of danger. To ordinary eyes, he was nothing but a harmless young man.
"Mr. Kyros," Yoriichi said softly, "I don't think you need to worry about that."
"I promise, you won't find fighting me boring."
Before Kyros could respond, Yoriichi's hand flashed. In a motion faster than sight could follow, he drew his blade, thrust once, and sheathed it in the same instant.
A dull boom echoed through the small cell. Kyros turned his head sharply—only to see that the solid stone wall behind him now had a narrow hole, two fingers wide.
Sunlight streamed through it, cutting a golden beam across the dim room.
Kyros's pupils shrank. He hadn't even seen Yoriichi move. All he'd felt was a faint breeze across his waist, followed by that muffled explosion of sound.
So strong…!
The words escaped him in a low murmur. His eyes on Yoriichi changed completely. After a long silence, Kyros walked over to the wall, took up his sword, and stepped out into the corridor.
Outside his cell was a small open space—less than a hundred square meters, but enough for a duel.
Seeing this, Yoriichi smiled faintly, lifting his sword and following him out. He stopped a few paces away, still keeping the blade in its scabbard, standing quietly before Kyros.
Throughout it all, Aokiji said nothing. He simply leaned against the wall, watching in silence.
Since this was Yoriichi's idea, he thought, best to let Yoriichi handle it his own way.
"Well then," Kyros said, taking his stance, "I'm coming… Be careful, young man—Mr. Tsugikuni."
He gripped his sword tightly, all seriousness now. That earlier strike had told him enough—the difference between them was immense. He knew he couldn't win.
But even so, Kyros did not lose his fighting spirit.
After all, he was a swordsman too!
Step!
Without waiting any longer, Kyros lunged forward, both hands on his blade, driving straight toward Yoriichi with a powerful thrust aimed at his chest.
Yoriichi's eyes calmly tracked his every motion. With a single, fluid movement, he drew his sword slightly, angled it, and deflected Kyros's strike.
"Hm?" Aokiji murmured quietly from the side, eyes narrowing.
He'd noticed something—Yoriichi wasn't fighting at full strength. His speed and power were both restrained.
It looked as if he was intentionally holding back—to meet Kyros on equal ground.
But though Yoriichi could limit his body, the Transparent World could not be switched off. Every muscle movement, every breath of Kyros was laid bare before him.
The instant Kyros's chest opened up from his own swing, Yoriichi shifted forward. Using the momentum from his parry, he rammed the hilt of his sword into Kyros's abdomen.
Thud!
Kyros's body hit the ground hard, air driven from his lungs.
Yoriichi froze immediately, lowering his sword. That… hadn't gone quite as he intended. He had wanted a graceful, flowing duel of blades—but somehow, it had turned into this.
He frowned slightly, looking apologetic.
"Kyros, I'm sorry," he said honestly. "That wasn't on purpose."
"It was… just a reflex."
Even holding back his strength and speed, Yoriichi under the Transparent World's influence was still far beyond human reach. No matter how much he restrained himself, the gap between them remained unbridgeable.
"Kyros," he said after a pause, "would you consider… joining the Navy?"
"I think," Yoriichi smiled faintly, "if you could grow stronger, fighting you would be truly interesting."
(End of Chapter)
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