Though Borsalino had just lost to Rosinante, that didn't mean he feared Sakazuki. After all, they were both Logia-type Devil Fruit users. Sakazuki hadn't mastered Haki yet, nor did he have an ability like Rosinante's that could nullify Devil Fruits. Sure, Sakazuki might be stronger in close combat, but so what? He still couldn't do anything to Borsalino.
Truth be told, Borsalino was proud. Beneath his lazy, carefree exterior lay a sharp arrogance. He didn't truly respect anyone.
"A fight, huh? Sure. Let's see what you've got."
Sakazuki frowned, and with a flash of fury, molten magma erupted from his body. His arm transformed into seething lava, dripping molten droplets to the ground.
Borsalino immediately reacted, puckering his lips slightly as his body began to glow and float upward like a beam of light.
"Woah~ Magatama—"
"Great Eruption—"
Sakazuki was about to launch his own finishing move when—
Snap.
"ROOM."
A thirty-meter-wide spherical space instantly enveloped them. Rosinante, standing in the center, calmly snapped his fingers a second time.
"Silence Extinction."
Fffft—
In the blink of an eye, both Borsalino and Sakazuki's powers were cut off. Their ultimate attacks fizzled into nothing.
But Rosinante nearly collapsed. Silencing two monsters at once had pushed his stamina to the brink. At most, he could maintain that nullification for three seconds—any longer and he'd pass out.
"That's enough! Akainu, Kizaru—this is a training field, not a battle arena. If you want to fight, take it to the ring."
Rosinante's voice was sharp with authority.
"Woah~ Little bro's mad~" Borsalino said, raising his hands in mock surrender.
Sakazuki glanced at Rosinante. The brief moment of powerlessness he'd just experienced had left an impression.
"That's the technique you used to defeat Kizaru?"
"Exactly."
Though Rosinante was nearly drained, his expression remained calm. He looked Sakazuki straight in the eye, unflinching.
"Impressive. I'd like to spar with you sometime, Blue Eagle."
Rosinante nodded. "Anytime."
"Woah~ Two monsters planning a death match~" Borsalino teased, fanning the flames.
Rosinante spun around and glared at him. "Shut it, old man. If we're calling people monsters, that includes you."
Borsalino rubbed his chin, pretending to look wounded. "Could you stop calling me old man? I'm only twenty-six~"
Rosinante ignored him and turned back to Sakazuki. "Weren't you just saying you'd teach us swordsmanship? We'll be counting on you."
Sakazuki had expected a rift between them after the confrontation. He hadn't anticipated that Rosinante would swallow his pride so easily and still ask him to teach, a display of humility and strength of character that genuinely surprised him.
"Very well. I only know the basics, plus a few killing techniques I picked up fighting pirates. Nothing fancy."
"That's perfect. Akainu, Kizaru and I only need the fundamentals. As for advanced techniques, we'll evolve our own over time."
"Good. Then let's begin."
Sakazuki nodded, drawing the long blade from his back. Borsalino's expression grew unusually serious.
"There are many styles of swordsmanship." Sakazuki began. "The most common classification is by the number of blades used. One-sword style, two-sword style, and so on—even three-sword style."
"Three-sword style? You're kidding, right?" Borsalino raised an eyebrow. "Humans only have two hands. How do you hold three swords?"
"You bite one."
"You bite one? That's gotta be the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Who the hell fights with a sword in their mouth?"
Borsalino made a face, convinced Sakazuki was trolling him. Sakazuki rolled his eyes and didn't bother replying. Off to the side, Rosinante fought back a smile. He wanted to tell Borsalino: Actually… someone does fight like that.
Not only does he hold a sword in his mouth—he fights, recites poetry, and absolutely dominates on the battlefield.
Like:
"Born in chaos, I exist to cut through the dust.
Through endless suffering, I walk the path of Asura—
Nine-Sword Style: Asura, One Mist Silver—"
And the blade never falls from his mouth.
Yeah. That's the future's Three-Sword Style master swordsman—Roronoa Zoro.
Rosinante decided to keep that to himself for now. Someday in the future, Borsalino would see that green-haired idiot for himself and mutter, "Woah~ He really does fight with a sword in his mouth…" right before unleashing a light-speed kick.
"Basic swordsmanship consists of thirteen core techniques: slash, cleave, chop, intercept, block—"
Sakazuki ignored Borsalino's scoffing and launched into a full demonstration of each basic strike.
Rosinante and Borsalino both watched attentively. Despite his usual aloof demeanor, Borsalino's shifty little eyes betrayed his true focus—he was locked in on every movement Sakazuki made.
Sakazuki finished his explanation swiftly. The basics were simple: no talk of cutting steel or slicing iron, like Zoro would one day speak of. Perhaps Sakazuki didn't even know such things were possible.
Still, for Rosinante, these fundamentals were enough. Even the most advanced sword techniques were built upon these simple forms. A solid foundation meant limitless potential.
And Rosinante was the type to master the basics. He didn't need flashy techniques. He would drill the simplest slashes again and again—ten thousand times, a hundred thousand times—until quantity became quality. With enough grit, strength would follow.
It was a slow method, but also the most effective.
Simple doesn't mean weak. Every complex technique is built from these very fundamentals.
"Thanks, Akainu. Really." Rosinante said with heartfelt sincerity.
Sakazuki nodded without emotion. He was a man who kept everything buried deep, unlike the hyperactive monkey beside him.
"That's it, Akainu? Those were very basic~"
"I should never have bothered with you."
Sakazuki shot Borsalino a venomous glare, then turned on his heel and walked away. He had his own training to get back to.
Rosinante watched him leave, then turned to Borsalino.
"Kizaru, I'm going to focus on swordsmanship basics for the next month. Want to train with me?"
"Pass, pass. Spare me, little bro. Your training is too intense. No day, no night—it's brutal. I'll just go back to sipping water and reading the newspaper, thank you very much."
He waved his hand dismissively.
Rosinante shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm starting now. Later, Kizaru."
He lifted the standard Marine longsword in his hand.
"Haah!!"
And so he began his relentless drilling of sword techniques.
(End of Chapter)
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