The love of a parent is the same the world over. Ever since Koushirou told Kuina that girls couldn't become the greatest swordsman, he had often caught his daughter secretly training harder, then secretly covering her face to cry when she still fell short of her goal.
As a father, he regretted those words. He wasn't good at expressing feelings. He worried about her, yet didn't know how to comfort her. He wanted to help her fix her physique too, but a girl's natural strength truly lags behind a boy's unless some rare treasure can transform the body. Things like that are luck, not certainty.
Watching his daughter grow older and dimmer by the day, Koushirou's heart ached with guilt. He had thought she might spend her whole life like that, until Amon solved it in one stroke.
Seeing the smile he hadn't seen for so long on Kuina's face, Koushirou realized how poorly he'd done as a father, and felt a deep gratitude for what Amon had given her. He set aside the pride of a swordsman and bowed low.
"Father..."
Kuina hadn't expected her seemingly indifferent father to have been worrying for her all along. Her eyes went misty.
"Master, please, rise."
Amon hadn't expected Koushirou to bow. In the anime, Koushirou always looked unhurried and detached, as if Kuina had been picked up off the street. Even when Kuina died, he hadn't seemed distraught. Now it was clear he simply didn't know how to show it.
"Heh, really, it's Kuina's own fortune. Like I always say, I'm just a jar merchant. Whatever you draw is your own skill."
To dispel the heaviness, Amon chuckled.
"No matter what, I still have to thank you." Koushirou said with a shake of his head. Amon might shrug it off, but he had to give thanks.
"I want to thank you too, Mr. Amon." Kuina bowed deeply beside her father.
"Hahaha, if you truly want to thank me, how about buying a few jars."
He wasn't being polite. He wanted to sell the rest quickly and open his second exclusive can.
To Koushirou and the others, though, it made Amon seem even more considerate. Look at him, offering them an easy step down by joking about selling jars. What a good person.
With that thought, their respect only grew.
Amon, unaware of their impressions, kept pitching. "One hundred thousand berries each. Absolutely no blanks. How about it, care to try?"
"I've only got five left. When they're gone, they're gone. You won't find a shop like this after you leave this street, so if you want one, now's the time."
Scarcity sells. Hearing that, the group exchanged looks, clearly tempted. Before they could decide how to phrase it, Emporio Ivankov could not hold back. He batted his heavily made-up eyes and stepped forward.
"I'll try."
He produced the money with a flourish. "Hello boy. Here's a hundred thousand berries. I can choose any of them, yes?"
"Hehe, of course. Any one you like."
Amon's heart jumped. Once someone took the lead, the rest would follow. Five visitors, five jars, the perfect number.
"Then I want the pink one. Such girlish color, perfectly my vibe."
Ivankov's gaze locked on a pink jar and, in a blink, his body shifted into a coquettish beauty. With the Horm-Horm Fruit, altering his hormones and changing his physique was effortless. One moment a cute maiden, the next the big-faced okama king.
"Pink? No problem. Good luck."
Unfazed by the sudden gender swap, Amon smiled and picked up the pink can. "Use this mallet to crack it."
"Got it, handsome boy."
With a wink, Ivankov brought the hammer down.
Clang. Three items spilled out under the group's curious eyes. Amon scooped them up, and their properties surfaced.
[Billy's Video]: A mysterious (hot) training method (maybe) said to contain a secret training technique(👀). Master it and your strength will jump sharply.
[Purple Small Crystals]: A special item said to be used for forging weapons.
[Philosophy Wrestling Album]: A set of illustrated wrestling forms (in questionable poses), likewise from the gender-fluid school of wrestling.
Uh...
Amon stared for a beat, briefly at a loss.
"Handsome boy, what are these," Ivankov asked, eyes bright.
"Ahem. All three are excellent. Honestly, I'm a little jealous of your luck. They suit you perfectly."
"Really? Then what are they?"
Ivankov leaned in, that big head of his almost touching Amon's hands.