As the sun hid below the horizon, Jacob was returning home, having finished his pending work, yet right now he was sulking following a session of earful from the old shopkeeper, who was furious at his lackluster presence in his son's upbringing.
The poor father felt wronged; it's not like he was intentionally running from responsibility—well frankly, there may be some truth to the old guy's comments but it's also true that he genuinely wants to spend a lot more time with his kid.
However, the weight of his current responsibility is ever so heavy.
While thoughts in those veins went on in his head, not far from where he stood, he saw his son talking to a marine soldier at the doorsteps of their small cabin.
Joining the two, he recognized the marine to be one of the new recruits, Mashaku, who apparently came to relay some direct orders from their superiors, who had promptly recalled Jacob for an urgent mission. [A/N – name changed from Mashikakau in the original, as it was a mouthful]
Orders from the marine hierarchies are essentially verdicts with no room for questions.
Left with no other choice than to accept, Jacob sighed heavily with his head down.'Looks like I am not beating those allegations anytime soon…' —his status as the absent father shall remain.
.
.
.
Early in the morning, a large marine ship could be seen docked at the harbor. Right there next to it, on the adjacent sandy shores, Jacob was giving a tight fatherly hug to his dear son.
crack! crack! 'oh no i think my bones have broken' the poor boy was struggling to breathe.
"come let father give you a mommy kissy"
"enough!, get off my face, your mouth stinks.." Sear spat out, while pushing the large face with his tiny hands. Only God knew how many days it had been since he brushed.
"sigh, kids grow up too fast"
Letting go, Jacob continues...
"with this attitude, in a few years you will probably be scheming with your wife to abandon your old man in some rotten place"
"yeah right!!" Sear scoffed, just at the thought.
To which Jacob laughed.
"hahaha!! i am joking!! of course my boy will never leave me to die like that" his strong calloused hands ruffling the five-year-old's head.
Thereafter the father resolutely stood up. Walking around a dozen steps to the ship, he turned around one last time, enthusiastically waving his hand, not stopping even while gradually boarding the vessel.
Sear couldn't help but feel touched seeing his father's enthusiastic goodbye, so likewise, he returned the gesture, similarly waving his hands, albeit mechanically and as always with a facial expression as stale as that of a dead fish.
Nevertheless, for once, no emotional barriers could stop him anymore. The wind seemed to communicate with him, telling him to savor this moment. Gradually even his normally stale—almost dead—face beamed with a fulfilling smile.
"See you again dad, come back soon, ya hear me!!!?" Sear shouts with everything he's got in his lungs.
"don't worry i will be home in a jiff, you won't even notice my absence" Jacob stretches his bulky muscles, flexing those biceps for all to see. "hahahaha!!!"
Following the heartfelt farewell, time moves on as hours turn into days and days into weeks and months.
Around two months passed since Jacob went back to the marine base at Louge Town. The whole time, not a single attempt at communication was made by his father. Rather, every so often, calls were made from Sear's side; however, the line had always remained unreceived.
The Den Den Mushi is a snail-like creature that can telepathically connect with others of its kind. The one at the Shimotsuki dojo is a regular Den Den Mushi that has a limited range, thus limiting connection to only the nearby snails. It's not able to reach the vicinity of the faraway Red Line, no less wherever in the vast ocean his father was patrolling.
Normally Jacob would at least send a letter or two, and better yet if by chance he was patrolling the nearby waters he would stop by to check up on Sear or at least talk to the boy on the Den Den Mushi. Needless to say, no contact whatsoever was strange.
Presently Sear doesn't have any idea on his father's well-being; furthermore even his whereabouts are unknown, as Jacob had left without disclosing any specifics.
Today was also a disappointment... yet again, his father's portable Den Den Mushi couldn't be reached.
The day was coming to an end as Sear was aimlessly roaming the village, having nothing better to do after the training.
Coincidentally, a little further ahead, an old man in his 60s or 70s came into sight—not the old shopkeeper, but somebody else.
As for the identity of that person... Sear did have a pretty sure idea... "Blacksmith; Kozaboro, Koushirou's father and the same man whose katana Zoro will go on to use one day. am i finally meeting him in person? lucky haha!." muttering to himself he gets near to where the man was.
The old master, Shimotsuki Kouzaburou, had been running the village dojo since its inception, for as long as it has existed. Actually the village itself is named after the Shimotsuki clan, members of which migrated here some 40 years ago, along with a number of citizens, all hailing from Wano.
Wano is an island nation, originally known for its samurai warriors and legendary blacksmiths. The Shimotsuki clan is also primarily a blacksmith clan, but its samurai legacy cannot be understated. Legends have it that Shimotsuki Ryuma; hailed as the Sword God, was born to this clan.
"what are you doing here, old mister?"
"Hmm...?" the old man slightly turns his head, looking straight at the boy's innocent-looking face. "who are you kid?.. what do you care what this old man does?"
"I am Arka Sear and umm!! Well i was curious and bored, when i saw you."
"just for that?" Kozaboro scoffs, suspiciously scanning the boy from top to bottom. Due to old age, he didn't often leave his room, so he didn't recognize the kid's face, but he knew the old Arka family very well.
"yes just for that, can't i watch you as you do your thing??.. i won't bother you, i assure!!"
"eh?!! if so fine.. it wouldn't hurt to tell you a few things, i suppose... Listen well, these are the metal scraps i collected from the village.." Kozaboro tells him, pointing at a fiber-sack.
"i plan to forge a blade out of these rusted garbage that everyone has discarded.. it will be my final original work, a strong blade hammered into shape using my last remaining strength. what do you make of this?"
...
"what do i make of it?? is this a test? do you want me to find some kind of meaning from what you said?" Sear asks in confusion.
"sure, you could put it that way" Kozaboro was trying to have a little fun with the kid, he didn't seriously believe that a snot-nose brat could ascertain any sort of meaning from his words.
. . . and indeed although ponder he may, Sear has a hard time deciphering the old man's message, very unusual of his witty self.
"Go on answer me" Kozaboro is persistent.
But Sear has no clear idea. "i am not sure... are you trying to say that you can beat anyone into shape, at least that is what my dad always says"
"sigh! kids nowadays, can't understand the simplest things tch! tch! well i guess you are on the right track... what i meant to say is that, Everything and everyone has a purpose, their exclusive moments to shine.. such a time is bound to come at least once in your life.."
Hearing the explanation "is that so?!" sear could only ponder..
"Yes!!.. After all even a scrap metal despite being rusty, burns the brightest when heated in a forge, to be reincarnated as something new, never ceasing to exist, merely changing form. Even if nothing else, a trash can serve as a cautionary example to others.."
Listening to Kozaboro's words, the boy remains silent, really contemplating a few things. . .
Following the small talk, it was rather awkward to continue the interaction in the middle of the street, so the two were about to move on from there, and change to the Shimotsuki dojo, more specifically to the area of the dojo where Kouzaburou usually stayed—his blacksmithing workshop.
For a while before dinner time, Sear planned to spectate the old blacksmith in action, permission for which the old guy was reluctantly compelled to grant after Sear's nonstop pleading.
But right as the two were about to head for the place, they noticed a strange scene in the village. Something seemed to be going on.
A commotion could be heard. Focusing on the source, they quickly found out that it was coming from the harbor.
Everyone headed toward the direction of the sea was confused. A crowd had already gathered at the harbor by the time they reached there.
They looked around, trying to find out what was happening.
An ethereal sunset was at the backdrop of the shores, the ocean glittering, caused by the golden rays that the sun scattered in every direction—a majestic view, able to captivate every soul.
However Sear wasn't a bit mesmerized by the view. His vision had become tunneled, focusing straight ahead.
"excuse me, please let me through for a second" he apologizes as he forces his way through the mass of people. For some inexplicable reason, when noticing him, every person with no exception seemed to unconsciously move aside and make a path, all while giving him a strange look.
Something felt off... he didn't like this eerily familiar atmosphere. He had a strange premonition at the moment 'what is happening, f*ck it's suffocating'
...
"This!" the boy softly exclaimed seeing the scene at the front. Finally catching his eyes was a large ship, one he was all too familiar with, and to further clarify his doubts, lined before the ship in a disciplined formation were a number of marines in uniform.
"Just what is this?" In front of the group of marines lay a casket, flowers adorned it.
"No! No! No!"
thump! thump! his heart beats erratically, distressed for what is to come.
He could connect the dots. He's not clueless.
He knew without being told, the identity of the man inside. 'Dad?' a word reaches his dried-up lips but never leaves, seemingly stuck there forever.
Too stunned to utter anything, he just stood there, frozen in place. This goes on for a while, during which everyone looks on with pity.
When he finally moves, his head spins, as the reality of the situation truly dawns on him.
To open the coffin and look inside, he neither had the wish nor the courage, but at last from somewhere inside of him, he still finds it—a will strong enough to do what was required of him.