The commotion Shirakawa caused was a minor incident before the main event. Only a small portion of the crowd witnessed it, but those who did were left in awe and fear. They couldn't understand how those men fainted without a trace.
Though some skilled individuals were present, their experience was mostly limited to the first half of the Grand Line. Shirakawa's strength, honed in the New World, was on an entirely different level.
Shirakawa entered the arena with the crowd. It was the final day of the competition, and anticipation was high. He skimmed the rules – ten finalists, divided into five pairs, the winners facing off until a champion emerged.
The initial matches were swift; Shirakawa observed as weaker opponents were eliminated. A lucky middle-aged man secured a bye in the second round. But it was a young, dual-wielding swordsman who truly caught Shirakawa's attention. His opponents couldn't withstand five moves against him.
Dual-wielding demanded exceptional skill and talent. The young man, barely seventeen or eighteen, was the youngest competitor, yet his prowess was undeniable.
Shirakawa already knew the outcome. The middle-aged man's luck had taken him far, but he was no match for the young swordsman.
The young man, whose name Shirakawa didn't know, didn't even pause before requesting the final match. It was clear he hadn't revealed his true strength.
For Shirakawa, this competition was child's play. The young man likely saw it the same way.
The organizer awarded the trophy and prize money. Only then did the young man's expression change. It seemed money was his motivation.
The event concluded, and the crowd dispersed. Shirakawa was intrigued by the young swordsman but didn't approach him. Interest didn't equate to friendship, though perhaps their paths would cross again.
Unbeknownst to Shirakawa, the young man was following him. Shirakawa led him towards the less populated coast, a suitable location should trouble arise.
"Come out," Shirakawa called, turning around. To his surprise, the young champion was openly trailing him.
"It's you. What do you want?" Shirakawa inquired.
"A duel," the young man replied, drawing a sword.
"You're not my match," Shirakawa stated calmly.
"How do you know if we don't fight?" The young man frowned, Shirakawa's dismissal clearly irritating him.
"Very well. State your name before we begin."
"Dracule Jorah, dual-wielding swordsman."
"Adolf K. Shirakawa, single sword style."
Jorah drew his second sword and took a stance.
"Why aren't you attacking? You can't win like this."
Shirakawa's posture was basic, yet Jorah couldn't find an opening. Every potential move seemed easily countered.
"If you don't attack, I will," Jorah warned. Despite his talent, he was facing a formidable opponent.
Shirakawa charged, employing the simplest yet most challenging technique of the single sword style.
"Single sword style, Iai Slash, Swallowtail Flash."
Any swordsman could attempt it, but few mastered its essence. Shirakawa was one of those few.
Different swordsmen had different approaches. Some sheathed their swords instantly, others didn't. Shirakawa belonged to the latter – a single, decisive strike.
"So fast!" Jorah saw only a blur. He couldn't block the attack but managed to protect his abdomen with Armament Haki.
"Armament Haki? Impressive for someone your age." Shirakawa stood behind Jorah, sensing the force that had blocked his attack.
Mastering Armament Haki at seventeen or eighteen was rare but not unheard of.
"But your Haki is too weak." Though Shirakawa hadn't used his full strength, he had pierced Jorah's defense.
Blood flowed from Jorah's wound, staining his clothes.
"I'm not your match," Jorah admitted, defeated. The pride he'd held for so long shattered by someone seemingly his age.
Footsteps approached. Shirakawa recognized the sound – Marines.
'The Marine Base Commander's son must have awakened. The Commander, now aware of his son's condition, is likely seeking revenge.'