I stood at the bow of the Going Merry, the Gryffindor sword held in a stance that had become almost second nature over the past two years.
The blade glowed with that familiar silver radiance as Hamon flowed through it, crackling softly in the predawn darkness.
CRACKLE! BZZT!
The early morning fog pressed against the ship like a living thing, unnaturally dense and completely surrounding us.
'Welcome to the Grand Line.'
I breathed slowly, maintaining the Hamon rhythm as I focused on the concept that the Fishman Karate scrolls described.
The Blue.
The ambient water surrounds everything, connecting everything, existing as a single unified medium across the entire world.
'Come on. You've done this before. Just... feel it. Connect to it.'
The moisture in the fog pressed against my skin, invisible but present.
Water vapor suspended in air, technically the same as the ocean below us, the rain above us, all part of that planetary cycle the scrolls described so poetically.
And then—for just a moment—I felt it.
That subtle shift in perception, like closing your hand around something that wasn't quite solid but wasn't quite liquid either.
The ambient water responds to my will, forming a connection between my Ripple energy and the external medium.
'There. That's it. That's the Water Grip.'
The moment I got the feeling of connecting to The Blue, I swung my sword toward the fog.
WHOOSH!
As I swung, the Hamon successfully spread through the fog like a wave in the sea—visible ripples of golden energy traveling outward, pushing through the dense mist as if it were a wave, barely making the fog stir.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the technique, finally, after what felt like the thousandth attempt, worked without the Barbossa sword's Water Affinity serving as training wheels.
'About damn time.'
I lowered the Gryffindor sword, feeling the mental strain that came with maintaining all of that focus. It wasn't as bad as when I'd been relying on the Barbossa sword's mystical properties, but it still required active concentration.
'Not sustainable for extended combat yet, but at least I can do it now. That's something.'
Because I'd volunteered to take the night watch—partly to give everyone else rest, partly because I needed the quiet—I'd spent the second half of the night training.
The Grand Line's atmosphere in this region had decided to be foggy, and with several cans of MAX Coffee keeping me alert, I'd decided to work on my new water-based techniques.
Specifically, the Water Grip.
'Back home, I used to stay awake late at night to contemplate my thoughts, analyze the day's events, and make decisions for my next move. Now I use those same hours to train supernatural martial arts techniques. How my life has changed.'
The thought carried a strange mixture of nostalgia and resignation. That version of myself—the one who'd spent sleepless nights reading light novels and crafting cynical observations about human nature—felt both impossibly distant and uncomfortably close.
That Hachiman would never have imagined he'd be standing on a pirate ship in another world, channeling golden energy through a magical sword while trying to sense ambient moisture.
'Then again, that Hachiman wouldn't have survived two weeks in this ocean.'
I looked at the sail that had been sewn after being ripped by the wind during yesterday's storm. The stitching was visible even in the dim predawn light—hasty repairs done by whoever had been available when the damage occurred.
My eyes tracked to the few places on the railing that had been hastily fixed, the wood grain not quite matching where new boards had been fitted. And the other small signs that made this ship look like it had gone through several storms in succession.
Which it had.
'Every piece of information I got about the Grand Line environment wasn't exaggerated at all. In fact, I'm starting to think everyone was significantly downplaying it.'
The Grand Line environment was completely detached from logic, and I was fairly certain it violated several fundamental principles of physics—though admittedly, I wasn't exactly an expert on science topics in general.
But even I knew that lightning storms shouldn't happen in the midst of snowfall.
That heavy winds shouldn't manifest during foggy conditions without disturbing said fog.
That rainwater shouldn't be hot enough to scald exposed skin.
'This ocean exists specifically to mock the concept of predictable weather patterns. It's like someone took all the worst possible meteorological conditions, threw them in a blender, and decided chaos was the ideal setting.'
It was thankful that there were some calm breaks from the absurdity—like the current predawn quiet—or this ocean would be completely unsurvivable.
According to Zeff's logbook, which I'd read cover to cover multiple times, the further you traveled into the Grand Line, the breaks would get progressively smaller, and the absurdity would get even more absurd.
'So, all of this madness will get worse. Because why would anything about this situation be reasonable?'
Moreover, if the environmental chaos wasn't enough of a challenge, Devil Fruit users in this ocean were as common as college graduates back home.
Everywhere you looked, someone had eaten a magical fruit that gave them reality-bending powers.
'And considering the troubles we're about to get into because of one of our two guests currently sleeping in the lounge, we're definitely going to meet more Devil Fruit users. Probably the hostile kind who enjoy using their powers to kill people.'
The thought of Vivi and Mr. 9—or rather, Princess Nefertari Vivi of Arabasta and her hapless companion—brought a familiar sense of resigned frustration.
'We're sailing directly into a Baroque Works territory because our captain has the self-preservation instincts of a particularly suicidal lemming. And I went along with it because... why? Because arguing with Luffy is like arguing with a natural disaster? Because I thought there was something to gain from all of this trouble?'
Both reasons were accurate, but neither made me feel better about the situation.
For this reason, it was better to add anything useful to my arsenal as soon as possible. Every technique mastered, every skill refined, every advantage gained could mean the difference between survival and becoming another corpse floating in the Grand Line.
'Cheerful thoughts for a cheerful morning. At least I'm consistent.'
Taking another stance, I breathed according to the Hamon rhythm, feeling the golden energy flow through my body and into the Gryffindor sword again.
CRACKLE! BZZT!
The blade lit up with that familiar silver glow, Ripple energy crackling across the metal like captured lightning.
I focused on that sensation again—the connection to The Blue, the ambient water surrounding everything. The fog pressed closer, and I reached out with my awareness, trying to grasp that invisible medium.
When I felt the connection established firmly enough, I swung the sword toward the fog.
WHOOSH!
This time, the Hamon spread through the fog like a wave, golden energy rippling outward—but it didn't travel nearly as far.
The technique dispersed mid-spreading, the energy dissipating after only about ten meters instead of twenty.
'Failure. Again.'
I sighed at the disappointing result, understanding intellectually that mastering this step would take time.
'But knowing something intellectually and being happy about it emotionally are two very different things.'
The failure stung despite my expectations. I'd managed one successful attempt, which meant the technique was possible. But consistency was what mattered in combat, and right now I had maybe a ten percent success rate when working without the Barbossa sword's assistance.
'Ten percent. That's pathetic by any metric. I need at least eighty or ninety percent before this becomes a reliable combat option.'
I was preparing to try one more time before the others woke up when I heard a voice behind me.
"That's pretty flashy."
The voice behind me made me jump—actually physically jumped like some nervous animal—and I spun around with the Gryffindor sword raised defensively.
WHOOSH!
Zoro stood about three meters away, his arms crossed and his expression carrying that particular blend of amusement and interest that meant he'd been watching for a while.
'How long has he been standing there? How did I not hear him approach? I'm supposed to have decent situational awareness, and he just appeared like a ghost.'
"You're up early," I said, forcing my voice to remain level despite the adrenaline spike from being startled. "Did everyone else wake up too?"
"Nah," Zoro replied, moving closer with his characteristic casual confidence. "Just me. Morning training routine. Though it looks like you've been training all night."
He gestured toward the empty MAX Coffee cans lined up near the railing—evidence of my caffeine-fueled vigil.
'Six cans. I drank six cans of coffee over the course of the night. My body is probably fifty percent caffeine at this point. That explains why I didn't hear him approach—my awareness is too jittery from overstimulation.'
"The fog made for good practice conditions," I said, which was technically true even if it wasn't the complete explanation.
Zoro's eyes moved to the Gryffindor sword in my hand, still glowing faintly with residual Hamon.
"What were you doing exactly?" he asked. "Some kind of technique?"
"Trying to expand my ranged combat options," I said, answering with a partial truth. "Most of my techniques work best at close to medium range. Wanted something that could hit targets further out."
"Makes sense," Zoro acknowledged. Then his expression shifted into something that looked suspiciously like anticipation.
"Speaking of combat—how about that spar we've been planning?"
'There it is. I knew this was coming the moment I saw him standing there.'
"Now?" I asked, though I already knew his answer. "The sun's barely up."
"Best time to train," Zoro replied with a grin that showed too many teeth. "Before the others wake up and start making noise. Just you, me, and our swords."
I wanted to refuse. My body was tired from staying awake all night, my focus was scattered from too much caffeine, and I'd just spent hours trying to master a technique that required intense concentration.
'But he's not going to let this go. And honestly, it's in my best interest to accept. I need more experience with dual-wielding.'
"Fine," I said, sheathing the Gryffindor sword and moving toward where I'd left my other equipment. "Give me a minute to prepare."
Five minutes later, I stood facing Zoro in the open area of the ship's bow—which is not that wide but wide enough—both of my swords drawn and held in a ready stance.
The Gryffindor sword in my right hand, its silver blade catching the early morning light. The Barbossa sword is in my left, its mystical properties dormant but ready to activate if needed.
'Two swords against his three. On paper, that puts me at a disadvantage. In practice...'
Zoro had all three of his swords drawn—Wado Ichimonji in his mouth, the other two in his hands. His stance was deceptively casual, but I could see the coiled tension in his muscles, the predatory focus in his eyes.
'He's taking this seriously. Good. Half-hearted sparring would be pointless.'
"Ready?" Zoro asked around the sword in his mouth, the word slightly distorted but perfectly understandable.
"Yeah…" I replied.
Then he moved.
WHOOSH!
The speed was incredible—one moment he was standing three meters away, the next he was inside my guard, all three swords coming at me from different angles simultaneously.
The right sword—Yubashiri— was in a high diagonal slash, the left sword—Sandai Kitetsu— was making a horizontal cut, the mouth sword—Wado Ichimonji—was thrusting straight at my center.
Three attacks, three different trajectories, all arriving within a fraction of a second.
'This is what they mean by overwhelming assault.'
CLANG!
I brought the Gryffindor sword up to deflect his right-hand blade, angling my sword so his strike slid off rather than meeting it head-on.
'Can't match his strength directly. Deflection, not blocking. Let his momentum work against him.'
CLANG!
The Barbossa sword caught his left-hand horizontal slash, my blade positioned vertically to intercept the attack at a perpendicular angle.
'That's two. But the third—'
WHOOSH!
Wado Ichimonji—the one in his mouth—streaked toward my chest with lethal precision. No time to bring either sword back into position.
I twisted my entire body, pivoting on my left foot and turning my torso just enough that the blade passed through where I'd been standing a split-second ago.
WHOOSH!
The edge of the sword passed so close to my neck that I felt the air displacement, and several threads of clothes drifted down from where his blade had severed them.
'Too close. Way too close. He's not holding back at all.'
But the twist had put me off-balance, and Zoro wasn't the type to let that opening go to waste.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Both his hand-held swords came back around in mirror slashes, converging on my midsection from both sides like closing scissors.
'Committed to the twist. Can't dodge backward. Forward would run me into Wado Ichimonji. Only option is—'
I dropped.
My knees bent and my body went low, sliding under the converging blades by centimeters.
CLANG!
The two swords met above my head with a metallic ring.
Then I pushed off hard with my legs, driving myself backward and out of Zoro's immediate range.
THUD!
My feet hit the deck two meters away, and I immediately brought both swords back into a defensive stance.
'That exchange lasted maybe three seconds. Three seconds of pure survival instinct and reaction. If I'd been even fractionally slower...'
Zoro's grin widened as he straightened from his attacking stance.
"Not bad," he said, his tone carrying genuine approval. "You have fast reflexes."
'Fast maybe. But not nearly fast enough. That was pure defensive scrambling, and we both know it.'
I didn't respond verbally, instead shifting my stance slightly lower, weight more evenly distributed between my feet. If I was going to survive this spar, I needed better defensive positioning.
'His raw strength is still beyond mine. And that three-sword style isn't just about having an extra blade—it's about creating geometric impossibilities. Attacking from three angles simultaneously means I can only effectively defend two at a time.'
Zoro came at me again, but this time I was watching his approach more carefully.
WHOOSH!
He opened with Yubashiri, his right-hand sword, a diagonal downward slash aimed at my left shoulder.
'Testing move. He expects me to block with the Barbossa sword, which would leave me exposed to—'
CLANG!
I blocked with the Gryffindor sword instead while moving to his right side, keeping my left hand free.
WHOOSH!
There, Sandai Kitetsu, his left-hand sword, followed me, aiming for my right side just as I'd predicted.
CLANG!
The Barbossa sword caught it, angling the blade downward.
'That's the pattern. Test with one blade, capitalize with the second. But the third sword is the real threat because—'
WHOOSH!
Wado Ichimonji thrusts forward, targeting the gap between my crossed swords.
'There it is. The killing blow is hidden behind the obvious attacks.'
CLANG!
However, I blocked it.
By angling the Gryffindor sword to intercept both of his Yubashiri and the Wado Ichimonji at the same time.
Then I rotated my body, forcing his drive to the side and dispersing his power.
'Blocking isn't the only defense. Sometimes repositioning is—'
CLANG! CLANG!
Zoro's two hand-held swords chased after me, his superior speed and strength driving my blades backward despite my angles.
'He's testing my strength now. Seeing if I can hold the defensive position or if he can overpower me through pure force.'
My arms were starting to burn from the pressure. His strength was genuinely monstrous—like pushing against a hydraulic press.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
I gave more ground, my feet sliding backward across the deck as Zoro advanced with methodical precision.
'Can't match his strength for strength. Need to break the engagement before he drives me into the railing.'
The moment his weight shifted forward—that fraction of a second where he committed to the next push—I disengaged completely.
WHOOSH!
Both my swords twisted outward, releasing the pressure and causing his blades to suddenly meet no resistance. His momentum carried him slightly forward, off-balance for just an instant.
'Now!'
I immediately counterattacked, both swords coming in from opposite sides in a pincer movement aimed at his midsection.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
CLANG! CLANG!
Zoro recovered impossibly fast, his two hand-held swords snapping into defensive positions that caught both my attacks simultaneously.
'Of course he did. Years of training versus my two years of survival learning. The experience gap is massive.'
But I'd created space, put him on the defensive even if just for a moment. That was progress.
Or so I thought.
WHOOSH!
Wado Ichimonji came at me in a horizontal sweep while his other two swords were still engaged with mine, the blade moving in a perfect arc toward my neck.
'Shit!'
I ducked, feeling the sword pass through the air above my head.
WHOOSH!
He can attack and defend simultaneously with different swords. Each blade operates independently while coordinating perfectly.
'It's like fighting three people who can read each other's minds.'
As I came back up from the duck, Zoro was already pressing the advantage.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
All three swords came at me in a rotating assault— mouth blade high, left blade middle, right blade low. A vertical spread of attacks that covered every defensive height.
CLANG!
Gryffindor sword caught the high attack.
CLANG!
Barbossa sword intercepted the middle.
WHOOSH!
The low attack I had to dodge, jumping backward and barely clearing the blade's arc.
'This is the problem with his style. Even when I successfully defend against two attacks, the third forces me to move, which disrupts my defensive positioning for the next exchange.'
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Another exchange, faster this time. His right sword came in as a thrust, which I parried. His left sword followed with a diagonal slash, which I deflected. His mouth sword executed a rising cut that forced me to twist away.
'I'm reacting to his attacks in every exchange. He's controlling the pace, the distance, the rhythm. I'm playing his game entirely.'
My feet were getting closer to the railing. Another few meters and I'd have nowhere to retreat.
'Need to change the dynamic. Can't keep fighting defensively—that's a guaranteed loss. Need to use my advantages instead of trying to match his strengths.'
I took a breath, then I activated my Mantra with deliberate focus, feeling that familiar expansion of awareness that came with it. The world seemed to slow slightly, not in reality but in my perception of it.
'There.'
Zoro came at me again, all three swords moving in that characteristic, overwhelming assault.
But this time, I wasn't reacting to where his swords were—I was moving in response to the tells I could now clearly see.
/Overhead slash with the right-hand sword/
I sidestepped left before his right-hand sword even completed its downward arc.
WHOOSH!
The blade came down through empty space where I'd been standing a moment before.
/Horizontal cut with left-hand sword to the chest/
WHOOSH!
I twisted my torso, turning perpendicular to his attack plane. His left-hand sword slashed through the air, missing me by a comfortable margin.
/A thrust with the mouth-sword to his face/
WHOOSH!
I leaned back, my spine arching as the mouth-sword thrust past my face, close enough that I could see the perfection of its edge.
Then I counterattacked.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Both my swords struck simultaneously while Zoro was still extended from his thrust. The Gryffindor sword came in high, aimed at his right-hand blade. The Barbossa sword targeted his left.
CLANG! CLANG!
The impacts weren't about power—they were about precise targeting. I struck his blades at angles that forced them wide, creating openings in his defense.
'Not trying to overpower him. Just redirecting his weapons away from effective positions.'
Zoro's eyes widened as his assault was not just blocked but completely neutralized. His three-sword advantage was rendered temporarily meaningless because I'd seen the attacks coming before they fully developed.
I pressed the advantage immediately, not giving him time to recover or adapt.
WHOOSH!
My right sword—the Gryffindor blade—came in as a thrust toward his center mass.
/Deflect with the right-hand sword/
CLANG!
He blocked exactly as predicted, his right blade meeting mine with a diagonal deflection.
WHOOSH!
My left sword—the Barbossa blade—was already moving to exploit the opening, coming in low toward his now-exposed left side.
'His left-hand sword is too high from the previous block. He'll have to use Wado Ichimonji to defend, which means bringing it down and—'
CLANG!
His mouth sword intercepted my low attack, catching the Barbossa blade in a defensive bind.
'There. Both his hand-held swords are now committed to my weapons. His mouth sword is locked against mine. For this fraction of a second, his defense is—'
I immediately released the pressure on both my swords and shifted my weight, causing his blades to suddenly push against nothing.
WHOOSH!
His momentum carried his weapons forward, off-line from defensive positions.
'Opening. Now!'
I executed a rising knee toward his midsection.
'I am not a swordsman, just a sword user.'
'So, this is allowed.'
THUD!
Zoro twisted his body, taking the knee strike on his hip rather than his stomach, but the impact still forced him back a step.
'First solid hit I've landed. But—'
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
His three swords came back around in a synchronized counterattack, all of them converging on my now-extended position from different angles.
But I could see the attacks coming through my Mantra, so I got my swords ready.
CLANG!
I managed to get the Barbossa sword up to catch Yubashiri, his right-hand blade.
WHOOSH!
I had to dodge Sandai Kitetsu, the left-hand sword, by tucking my shoulder.
CLANG!
Then I stopped the Wado Ichimonji with the Gryffindor sword.
SHEEEEEERRR!!!
But I didn't stop here as I slid the Gryffindor sword across the Wado Ichimonji, aiming for his face.
Zoro deflected the Gryffindor sword and disengaged immediately, standing with his swords lowered and a considering expression on his face.
"Interesting," he said, his tone thoughtful. "You're predicting everything. My moves, my targets, even my timing."
'Don't explain it. Don't confirm it. Just let him think it's some mysterious ability.'
I didn't respond, just settled back into a stance.
"How are you doing it?" Zoro asked, but there was a slight grin on his face suggesting he didn't actually expect an answer.
"Trade secret," I replied.
"I see, fair enough," he said, his voice carrying a strange quality. "But now I get why they used to call you Death-Eyes."
'Oh no. Please don't. I hate that nickname. Hate it with a passion that burns brighter than the sun.'
I managed to keep my expression neutral despite the internal cringe, refusing to acknowledge how much that particular epithet bothered me.
"The way you look at people," Zoro continued, his own stance shifting subtly. "Like you can see right through them. See what they're going to do before they do it, see their death before you deliver it."
'Technically accurate, which makes it even worse. I do see what they're going to do. Just not through mysterious death eyes—through a supernatural observation ability that I have no idea how I got. But explaining that would raise too many questions.'
"Are we continuing?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject. "Or taking a break?"
Zoro's grin returned, sharper than before.
"Continuing," he said. "But I'm changing tactics. If you can predict straightforward attacks, let's see how you handle unpredictability."
'Uh oh. That sounds like exactly the kind of adaptation that would counter Mantra. Wonderful.'
He came at me again, but this time his sword strikes were different.
/Overhead strike at his upper body/
His right-hand blade started as an overhead strike—the angle and trajectory clear.
'This…wait.'
The blade's path began to waver mid-swing, the trajectory becoming deliberately vague.
WHOOSH!
What had started as a clear overhead strike suddenly had the potential to redirect into a side slash or even a thrust.
'He's making the execution ambiguous. I can see his intent to attack my upper body, but the actual delivery method is staying flexible until the last possible moment to adapt to my reaction.'
/Side slash at his ribs/
I moved to block where I thought the strike would land, but his blade twisted at the last second, the overhead strike becoming a side slash that nearly caught my ribs.
CLANG!
Only a desperate adjustment of my guard saved me from taking a direct hit.
'Clever. Very clever. He's deliberately making his movements vague so even though I can sense his intent, the actual execution remains flexible enough to adapt to my reactions.'
/A stab at his neck with the right-hand sword—/
Another attack that started as a thrust with Sandai Kitetsu.
/—To a slash at his shoulder/
The thrust became a slash, coming in at an angle I hadn't been prepared for.
WHOOSH! CLANG!
I got my blade up barely in time, feeling the impact rattle through my arm.
'This is working too well. He's negating my Mantra advantage by making his attacks deliberately indeterminate. I can see his general intent, but the specific execution changes based on my defensive posture.'
The pace of the fight slowed slightly, both of us adjusting to the new dynamic.
I was still reading his intentions, but now I had to account for multiple possible executions of each attack.
His Sandai Kitetsu came in with that same vague trajectory. Could be high, mid, or low. Could be slash, thrust, or even a feint.
'On the positive side, this forces him to slow down too. The vague attacks take longer to execute properly because he has to maintain multiple options until the last moment. This gives me more time to physically react even with the reduced certainty.'
'Moreover…'
I started deliberately leading him into disadvantageous positions—reading his intent to attack a certain area, then positioning myself so his most likely responses would put him off-balance.
/Left sword strike to his right side/
'Right side attack. Multiple possible angles. If I position here...'
I moved slightly to my left, making his easiest options either an overextended horizontal slash or a thrust that would leave him momentarily committed.
WHOOSH!
He went for the slash, and I'd already positioned myself outside its maximum effective range.
CLANG!
His blade passed through empty air while my counterattack forced him to desperately block.
'If I can't predict the exact attack, I can at least control which attacks are available to him. Force him to choose from a limited set of options where every choice is disadvantageous. Turn his flexibility against him by making the flexible options all bad.'
It was working. Slowly but surely, I was gaining ground despite his three-sword advantage and superior raw strength.
But then his expression changed. That competitive grin widened into something almost predatory.
'He's figured something out. That's not good.'
Until he changed tactics again.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Suddenly, the vague, ambiguous attacks were gone, replaced by pure overwhelming force. All three swords were coming at me simultaneously with enough power that blocking wasn't really an option—I had to dodge or be cut down.
His right sword came straight down—no ambiguity, no flexibility, just raw vertical power aimed at splitting me in half.
CLANG!
I blocked with both swords crossed above my head, and the impact nearly drove me to my knees.
'Forget ambiguity. He's going for pure brute force. If the vague attacks aren't working, just hit so hard and so fast that prediction doesn't matter because avoiding is impossible.'
His Sandai Kitetsu in his left hand came in horizontal, a sweeping slash with enough force behind it to cut through a mast.
WHOOSH!
I had to drop and roll under it, feeling the blade pass over me with a sound like tearing wind.
'No time to counterattack. He's already repositioning for the next strike. Yubashiri is coming in as a thrust. If I stay low, it'll skewer me. Have to—'
WHOOSH!
I pushed off the deck, launching myself backward just as the blade punched through the space I'd occupied. Then I swung my swords at him in succession.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The impacts when our blades did meet were like striking steel against anvils, each one sending painful vibrations up my arms.
'My Mantra is still giving me advance warning, but it doesn't help much when the attacks are too fast and numerous to fully avoid. I can see them coming, but my body can't react fast enough to dodge everything.'
Another combination—overhead, side, thrust. All three swords are moving in perfect synchronization.
CLANG! CLANG!
I blocked two with desperate precision, then had to shift myself to the side to avoid the third.
WHOOSH!
But as I moved away, he was following through with his three swords, swinging parallel to each other.
'He's not going to let me catch up. Every time I adjust, he increases the difficulty.'
This is what it means to fight someone who's been training with swords since childhood. Someone who's fought hundreds of battles and adapted to countless fighting styles.
CLAAAAAANNNNGGG!!!!!!!!
I blocked with both swords, and the impact sent me sliding backward across the ship's bow.
'My arms are going numb. How much longer can I maintain this? My Mantra is still active, but my body is reaching its limits. Knowing doesn't help if you can't physically respond to what you're observing.'
The moment I started showing signs of fatigue, he upped the pace even further. Faster, harder, more aggressive.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
His swords became blurs of motion, each strike flowing into the next with machine-like precision.
Right hand high, left hand low, mouth sword center. Then, before I could fully process that combination, he'd already transitioned into the next—left hand high, right hand center, mouth sword low.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
I was purely reactive now, all thought of counterattacking abandoned in favor of simple survival.
'This is the gap between us. Raw endurance, physical conditioning, years of combat experience.'
I can match his technique with supernatural observation and two years of survival training, but I can't match the foundation of someone who's lived and breathed swordsmanship since they could walk.
'So, in the end, do I really have to use Hamon...?'
And that's when I noticed we weren't alone anymore.
The sounds of combat had apparently woken the rest of the crew.
Luffy sat at the railing near the mast, his eyes wide with that particular brand of excitement that meant he was enjoying the show immensely.
Usopp stood near the stairs, his expression somewhere between terrified and awed—probably wondering how anyone could move that fast with three swords.
Sanji had emerged from the galley, taken one look at the sparring session, rolled his eyes in that characteristic way that said "these sword-obsessed idiots," and was already heading back to start breakfast.
Nami stood near her usual spot by the navigation equipment, watching the fight with clear surprise written across her features.
And our two guests, Mr. 9 and Vivi, looked like they were frantically reassessing something very important about the crew they'd asked for help.
Probably recalculating their chances of manipulating us into whatever scheme they had planned.
'Great. We have an audience. Perfect time for Zoro to be demonstrating exactly how outclassed I am in pure swordsmanship. Nothing like public humiliation to start the day.'
The moment of distraction cost me. Zoro's blade came in at an angle I wasn't fully prepared for—a rising diagonal slash from his right hand aimed at my midsection.
CLANG!
I blocked, but the impact sent me sliding backward, my feet scrambling for purchase on the deck.
"Eyes on your opponent," Zoro said, though he was already stepping back and lowering his swords. "But looks like we've got spectators anyway. Might as well call it here."
'Thank whatever God exists in this world. My arms feel like they're about to fall off, my legs are shaking from constant dodging, and my concentration is completely shot from maintaining Mantra for that long while sleep-deprived.'
I lowered my own swords, breathing hard despite trying to maintain composure.
"What were you two doing?!" Luffy's voice carried across the deck, his excitement obvious and completely missing the point that we'd been trying to kill each other for the past ten minutes.
"That looked awesome!"
"Sparring," I replied, sheathing my blades with movements that probably looked more tired than I wanted to admit. "Morning training."
"Training?!" Usopp's voice cracked with that particular pitch that meant genuine terror. "That looked like you were trying to kill each other!"
"That's how you know it's good training," Zoro said with a grin that showed too many teeth. "If there's no real intent behind it, you don't improve."
"You were holding back, though," I pointed out, sheathing my own swords. "I could tell."
'He was, he didn't try to use his techniques at all.'
"So were you," Zoro replied with a slight grin, already moving toward his usual spot for post-workout meditation like he hadn't just spent ten minutes trying to turn me into sushi.
"No magic things, no fancy techniques. Just swords."
'Fair point. If we'd both been fighting seriously with our full arsenals, the Going Merry would probably need significant repairs.'
"Well, since we've got stable weather right now, I want to finish the cannons' modifications I started before!" Usopp gestured enthusiastically, trying to redirect his nervous energy anywhere else.
"I've reinforced the mounting system, improved the recoil absorption, and added a quick-reload mechanism that would be amazing for the auto-reload!"
"Impressive," I said, and meant it. Usopp's weapon-making skills were genuinely remarkable when he wasn't letting his cowardice interfere.
"Of course it's impressive!" Usopp puffed up with pride. "I am the great Captain Usopp, after all! My innovations are—"
"Weren't you crying about sea monsters just yesterday?" Zoro interrupted bluntly.
Usopp deflated immediately. "That's—that was different! Those were very scary sea monsters! Abnormally scary!"
'Every sea monster is abnormally scary to you, Usopp.'
"Anyway," Nami said, pulling out her map and checking it carefully. "According to this, we should reach Whiskey Peak by afternoon. Maybe early evening at the latest."
"Okay, now let's eat!" Luffy declared, then ran to the lounge. "Sanji! Food!"
By mid-morning, the fog had cleared, revealing a clear day with gentle winds and calm seas—the kind of Grand Line weather that felt almost too good to be true.
After catching a wink, I spent part of the afternoon helping Usopp with his cannon modifications—mostly holding tools and offering suggestions based on my own combat experience.
His design was clever, incorporating multiple firing angles and a quick-reload mechanism that could make the difference in a prolonged engagement.
It was late afternoon when Nami's voice rang out from her position near the helm.
"Land ahead! We are here!"
…
A/N: Well, That's it for now.
Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed this one!
Feel free to leave a Comment guys! And Powerstones are much much welcomed!
Have a good day!
You also can check my Patre0n for extra Chapters.
https://www.patre0n.com/ColdColt
There are +13 Chapters there.