"If we're not going to spar any further, then I'll be on my way."
Vane's tone was calm, almost indifferent. His meeting with Mihawk had been nothing more than chance, their duel nothing more than a passing exchange. Though short-lived, it was enough to confirm what both already knew. Unlike Kaido, who craved endless battle, Vane had no such obsession.
He stepped lightly onto the ice, his eyes drifting toward Mihawk's iconic coffin boat. The vessel had been frozen during their clash, but the destruction of the surrounding ice had freed it. Thanks to its small size, the ship had survived intact—any larger vessel would have been destroyed without question.
Mihawk stripped off his soaked coat and set aside his hat. The sun was already climbing toward its peak, and the midday heat would dry his clothes quickly.
"Wait." Mihawk's voice broke the silence. He stood, his gaze sharp yet respectful. "Rhett Vane… may I see your blade? That sword, Ryujin Jakka."
The world's greatest swordsman rarely asked anything of another, but curiosity burned in his golden eyes. Rumors had long circulated about this weapon. Some spoke of a pillar of flame erupting into the heavens above Big Mom's territory on Whole Cake Island, a firestorm that boiled the very seas. Even Mihawk, who rarely indulged in hearsay, could not ignore such tales.
Vane paused, then nodded. "Very well."
He held the blade before him. His expression hardened, focus sharpening like the edge of steel. A quiet hum filled the air, followed by a pressure that spread outward, heavy enough to make even Mihawk take a cautious step back.
"It's starting…" Mihawk whispered, his eyes fixed on the sword without blinking.
Vane's lips parted, his voice low and steady. "Everything in the forest is reduced to ashes, the blade flows like fire."
The words carved themselves into Mihawk's memory.
Then, with a resonant crack, Ryujin Jakka erupted in flame. The heat surged outward, washing over the frozen sea in a blistering wave. The air itself shimmered under the violent temperature, flames curling along the blade like a living inferno.
Mihawk's pupils contracted. The suffocating force of Vane's release reminded him of another presence he knew well—Red-Haired Shanks, and his unmatched Conqueror's Haki. For years Mihawk had stood beside that man, had felt the weight of his will. Yet now, this pressure felt hauntingly similar.
"What overwhelming fire… Is this the power of a Devil Fruit?" he muttered, disbelief flashing across his face.
The flames wrapped the blade, forming a molten tide, as if the sword itself had become a sea of fire.
"So this is Ryujin Jakka… a sword of flame?"
Mihawk's voice carried awe, but also doubt.
"No," Vane replied evenly. "This is a Zanpakutō. A sword bound by contract with my soul. In another's hands, it would be nothing more than steel. Only I can wield its true power."
"A sword… that bonds with its wielder's soul?" Mihawk frowned. He had never heard of such a concept. If he were slain, Yoru would still be wielded by whomever claimed it, its power unchanged. But this… this was something entirely different.
"You can think of it," Vane continued, "as a famed blade from a higher dimension, beyond this world."
Mihawk's eyes narrowed. "A higher dimension?"
He could not grasp the meaning, yet the weight of Vane's words lingered.
Then Vane turned away, his expression unreadable. He gripped Ryujin Jakka in both hands, raising it high before stabbing the blade deep into the ice.
"What is he doing?" Mihawk muttered, watching closely.
The sea answered his question.
Far ahead, the water trembled violently. Dozens of enormous swells bulged upward, as though the ocean itself was being forced to rise. With a thunderous roar, pillars of flame burst through the surface, tearing into the sky.
"Impossible…"
Mihawk's eyes widened as towering infernos rose like colossal buildings, spearing the clouds above. The sea boiled instantly, white steam rolling upward in suffocating waves. Even from hundreds of meters away, the heat struck his skin like searing iron.
If this continued, if the flames truly spread unchecked… all life in this sea would perish.
Vane pulled Ryujin Jakka free from the ice, and in that moment the firestorm vanished. The pillars collapsed into nothingness, as if they had never existed. Yet the scorching temperature lingered in the air, the sea still bubbling as though refusing to cool.
He had mastered control over his Zanpakutō, bending its terrifying flames at will.
Mihawk, ever composed, found himself staring in rare astonishment. His lips parted slowly. "So this… this is the true power of your blade?"
Vane shook his head. "No."
Mihawk stiffened. "…No? You mean there is more?"
"The release you just witnessed is called Shikai," Vane explained calmly. "At its peak, its flames reach the temperature of the sun's surface. But there is another state—Bankai. In that form, Ryujin Jakka's fire mirrors the core of the sun itself."
"The… core of the sun?" Mihawk's voice faltered. The thought was staggering, incomprehensible.
Vane's gaze softened, and he offered a rare smile. "If you are interested, perhaps one day I'll bring you to the world this blade hails from. A realm of true swordsmanship, where the land is filled with warriors greater than even the finest swordsmen of this world."
The invitation lingered in the air like a spark yet to catch flame.