"You want him to join the Navy?!"
"That's impossible, he's a…"
Kuzan had just started to reply to Yoriichi when he abruptly stopped mid-sentence—he was going to say the man was a gladiator.
But… now that he thought about it, maybe that didn't matter so much.
When it came to background checks, the Navy really wasn't all that strict. As long as a person's origin was verifiable, they weren't a pirate, and they hadn't committed unforgivable crimes in a World Government member nation, they could technically join the Navy.
Kuzan didn't know that Kyros had ended up in the arena because he was branded a murderer—but honestly, even if he had known, it wouldn't have changed much.
Kyros had already been pardoned by the King of Dressrosa. The Navy wasn't about to swing its sword against civilians of a kingdom allied to the World Government—especially when the man hadn't reoffended.
"What do you say, Kuzan? Let's go ask him after the match!"
"And if it's a no-go… well, I'd still love to spar with him one-on-one!"
Yoriichi spoke with undisguised enthusiasm, clearly eager for a duel with Kyros.
When swordsmen face off, their battles usually come down to two things—technique and power. Speed, strength, and awareness—Yoriichi far outclassed Kyros in all of them. But if those were set aside, and the duel was judged solely on skill—then Kyros was definitely worthy of being challenged.
"…Alright, we'll ask him afterward. But don't get your hopes up too high," Kuzan replied.
"Odds are, he won't want to be a marine."
"This is my first time in Dressrosa, but I've heard plenty about this place. The gladiators in that arena—some are here to hone their skills, some are condemned criminals, and others… are slaves."
"Most of them are treated as disposable."
Kuzan didn't want to directly shut down Yoriichi's excitement, especially seeing how eager he was—but at the same time, he didn't want him to be disappointed either. The higher the hope, the greater the fall.
"It's alright," Yoriichi smiled. "It doesn't hurt to ask."
"Who knows—maybe he will be interested."
With that, the two of them stopped watching the matches altogether and left their seats, heading backstage to find Kyros. But unsurprisingly, the arena staff weren't about to let two random strangers waltz in and meet one of their star gladiators.
After all, Kyros wasn't just any swordsman—he was, in a way, still a prisoner. He didn't have true freedom.
That was when Kuzan's identity as a Navy Headquarters colonel proved useful. Once the officials verified who he was, they assigned an escort to personally take Kuzan and Yoriichi to Kyros.
What they saw wasn't what Yoriichi had imagined. He had expected a proper resting area—after all, Kyros was the arena's golden goose, wasn't he?
Instead, Kyros was confined in what was clearly a cell within the arena itself.
The room was barely ten square meters, enclosed by walls of cold blue stone. High on one wall was a small vent window, sectioned into cat-sized squares by thick steel bars, each no wider than a thumb.
The furnishings were sparse and plain: a bed, a small table and chair, a squat toilet connected to the room, and a makeshift sink with a thin yellowed towel draped on the edge. On the sink sat a sliver of soap, a toothbrush and cup, and a tiny tin of salt for brushing teeth.
Kyros had already returned to this "room" after finishing his match. His sword was propped up casually against the wall.
Despite the prison-like setting, it was clear that Kyros was no ordinary convict. He seemed to enjoy certain privileges, and his movements weren't restricted.
With his skill, if he had a sword in hand and chose to escape the arena, no one would be able to stop him.
Kuzan and Yoriichi entered and glanced around the room. Kyros, surprised, met their gaze with clear, sharp eyes. He sized them up—Yoriichi, young and serene; Kuzan, tall and imposing.
He'd already been told that a Navy Headquarters colonel wanted to speak with him. Judging by appearance, the tall one had to be the officer. Kyros blinked in mild astonishment—so young, and already a colonel?
"What… do you two Navy men want with me?" Kyros asked hesitantly.
His voice betrayed a trace of nervousness, as if he hadn't spoken to an outsider in a long time. He sounded nothing like the fierce warrior on the arena floor.
Before Kuzan could reply, Yoriichi stepped forward with a gentle smile and offered his hand.
"Hello. My name is Tsugikuni Yoriichi. I'm not officially in the Navy—yet."
"Kyros, I really admire your swordsmanship. I was wondering… would you be interested in sparring with me sometime?"
"Nothing formal—just a private exchange of skills."
"To be honest, I'm a huge fan."
Yoriichi laid on the praise, eager to avoid being turned down.
"Spar… sparring?" Kyros repeated the word like it was foreign. In the arena, every fight was to the death. A friendly bout? He'd never heard of such a thing.
And then—
Kyros looked down at the young man before him. Yoriichi stood a little over 170 cm, his face still soft with youth.
It was hard to imagine someone like him proposing a duel.
If it weren't for the black-sheathed katana at Yoriichi's side, Kyros wouldn't have considered him a swordsman at all.
Sparring…? Kyros worried that if he wasn't careful, he might accidentally kill the kid.
"I—I've never sparred with anyone. All my fights have always been for my life."
"I'm afraid I won't be able to hold back. If that's what you two came here for, then forget it. I can't help you."
Though Kyros reached out to shake Yoriichi's hand, he crouched down as he spoke—his posture more like someone humoring a child than facing an equal—and turned him down gently.
"Ugh…"
Yoriichi could sense Kyros's attitude. He appreciated the concern behind his words, but still, they felt… patronizing.
Even so, he wasn't angry. It was perfectly normal to judge someone by their appearance. And since Yoriichi had stepped into the state of selflessness, without engaging in combat, he exuded no aura of danger whatsoever—he looked no different from an ordinary young man.
"Mr. Kyros, I don't think you need to worry."
"I believe… you won't find fighting me boring."
As Yoriichi spoke, he suddenly drew the long blade at his waist in a flash of motion too fast to see—a single, clean thrust—and sheathed it just as quickly.
Boom. A dull thud echoed beside Kyros's ear.
He turned to look. A hole, no wider than two fingers, had appeared in the solid stone wall—pierced clean through.
Sunlight streamed into the room through the tiny opening.
Kyros's pupils contracted sharply.
He hadn't even seen how Yoriichi drew his blade. All he felt was a breeze at his waist… and then the impact.
"Incredible…"
He muttered under his breath, his gaze toward Yoriichi completely changed. After a long silence, he strode over to the wall, picked up his sword, and stepped outside.
Just outside his room was an open area—less than a hundred square meters, but plenty for a friendly match.
Seeing this, Yoriichi smiled, gripped his blade, and followed him out. He stood opposite Kyros in the small courtyard, blade still in its sheath, calm as ever.
Throughout all this, Kuzan remained silent, watching from the side.
Since it's Yoriichi's choice, let him speak for himself, Kuzan thought. Let him act on his own terms.
"Then… I'll begin now."
"Young man… Yoriichi-san, be careful."
Kyros gripped his sword in both hands, ready and focused.
From that single strike, he'd already seen the vast gulf between their abilities.
He knew—he wasn't a match for Yoriichi.
But he wasn't the type to back down just because of that.
He, too, was a swordsman.
Thump!
Breaking his usual composure, Kyros launched straight into the attack. With a burst of speed, he charged forward, sword leveled at Yoriichi's chest in a decisive thrust.
Yoriichi watched every movement with calm clarity. He raised his blade and deflected Cyrus's attack with a clean parry.
"Hmm?"
From the sidelines, Kuzan let out a soft sound of surprise. He'd noticed—Yoriichi hadn't unleashed his full strength or speed.
It was clear: he was holding back intentionally.
He was trying to fight on the same level as his opponent.
Even though he suppressed his physical prowess, the Transparent World—his extraordinary perception—couldn't be switched off at will.
Kyros's every move was still laid bare before his eyes.
Yoriichi spotted a brief opening in Kyros's form. As he deflected the blow, he stepped in and slammed the hilt of his sword into Kyros's abdomen.
Boom!
Kyros crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.
Landing the blow, Yoriichi immediately halted. He hadn't expected this outcome at all.
He had hoped for an elegant and thrilling duel—but…
He furrowed his brows slightly, looking apologetic.
"Kyros… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"It was an instinctive reaction."
Even while suppressing his speed and strength, Yoriichi—with the aid of his Transparent World—was still overwhelming.
He and Kyros were simply not on the same level.
"…Kyros, have you ever considered joining the Navy?"
"I think… if you got a little stronger, fighting you might actually be fun."
*********
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