The sky tore itself apart.
Thunder rolled over Windmill Island like the growl of an angry god. Lightning burned across the heavens, turning the sea white and the mountains black.
Down by the shore, Hina froze mid-strike. The training dummy in front of her split cleanly from the sudden pressure in the air. She frowned, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead.
"What the hell…?" she whispered, looking up at the rapidly darkening sky. "That's no normal storm."
Her instincts screamed. Something primal. Familiar.
Her heart skipped.
No… don't tell me he's doing it again!
With a burst of movement, she shot forward, vanishing in a flash step that sent sand scattering behind her.
Halfway up the mountain, she nearly collided with Kuina, who was already running at full speed, her expression grave.
"You feel it too?" Hina called out.
Kuina didn't even slow down. "No one else could cause something like this. Who else but Jin could make the sky angry?"
They moved together, twin streaks of motion slicing through the rising wind. When they reached the foothill, both stopped at once.
Above them, the storm writhed like a living beast. The air was thick—heavy enough to crush their lungs. Bolts of black lightning coiled through the clouds, but none struck yet. The air trembled, waiting for a single trigger.
Hina clenched her fists. "This pressure… it's suffocating."
Kuina's jaw tightened. "He's at the center of it."
Before they could take another step, a voice called from below. "Wait for me!"
Makino was running toward them, skirt whipping in the wind, her face pale with worry.
"Why haven't you gone up?" she demanded.
"We were waiting for you," Kuina said evenly. "But you should stay back. It's dangerous."
Makino ignored her, her eyes flashing with determination. "If he's up there, I'm not staying behind."
Kuina and Hina exchanged a glance. Then Kuina exhaled. "Fine. But stay close."
Together, the three began their climb.
The path that usually took a minute stretched into an eternity. The air pressed down like a wall, every step a battle against invisible gravity. By the time they reached the summit, their clothes were soaked through, hair plastered to their faces.
Then they saw him.
Jin stood shirtless atop the peak, muscles tense, his hands gripping the hilt of the black dragon blade. The weapon pulsed crimson in the gloom, veins of red light crawling across its length like molten cracks. His eyes—those sharp violet eyes—were locked on the heavens.
He was smiling.
A wild, defiant smile.
"Jin!" Makino's voice barely carried over the howling wind.
He turned, caught sight of them through the rain and lightning, and for a fleeting second, that smile softened. "I'm fine!" he shouted back. "Don't come closer!"
The weight in his voice made them freeze. Even Kuina didn't argue.
They could only watch.
Jin's shoulders trembled beneath the strain. The pressure pressing down on him was immense—like holding up the sky with bare hands. But his spirit burned brighter than ever.
So this is what it feels like, he thought, forcing air into his lungs. To fight against the heavens themselves.
He'd expected his tribulation to come when he broke through another stage of inner force—not when forging a sword. Yet here he was, standing under a storm that sought to erase his creation from existence.
The blade pulsed again, trembling violently in his grasp. Lightning answered it, gathering above in a churning mass of shadow.
Then the world split open.
A bolt of black lightning tore through the sky, falling like divine judgment straight toward him.
The instant it struck, the world turned white.
"Jin!"
Makino's scream was lost to the thunder.
Hina and Kuina shielded her with their arms as the impact shook the mountain. When the light faded, a single figure still stood amid the smoke—kneeling, blood trailing from his lips, both hands locked around the sword.
The earth beneath him was scorched glass.
"Damn it…" Jin coughed, spitting red. His body felt like it had been stabbed by a thousand needles. Every muscle convulsed, his nerves on fire.
But the blade—it was still intact.
Or so he thought.
A faint crack echoed.
He looked down, disbelief flashing across his face. A thin fracture ran through the center of the blade, glowing faintly red.
"No," he muttered. "You've got to be kidding me—"
The crack widened with a sound like shattering ice.
"Jin!"
Makino started forward, but Kuina caught her wrist. "Wait! The storm hasn't ended!"
Another rumble shook the heavens. The clouds twisted tighter, gathering their fury for a final strike.
Jin's grip tightened on the hilt. His blood dripped onto the steel, hissing as it touched the crimson lines. "You stubborn bastard," he growled at the weapon. "Even now you refuse to bow?"
The blade trembled, as if answering.
Lightning roared again.
When the second bolt fell, Jin didn't dodge. He swung.
"Break!"
His roar met the thunder as the black lightning collided with his blade. The explosion was deafening—soundless yet deafening, the kind of silence that ruptures the air itself.
A blinding flash swallowed everything.
When it cleared, the storm had vanished.
Only smoke and the scent of ozone remained.
Jin knelt on one knee, panting heavily. The sword in his hand was gone—shattered into a dozen fragments scattered across the rocky ground.
But he was alive.
Barely.
The women ran to him at once. Makino reached him first, dropping to her knees, hands trembling as she touched his shoulder.
"You idiot," she whispered, voice breaking. "You almost killed yourself…"
He chuckled weakly, blood trickling down his chin. "You worry too much. The lightning was weaker than it looked."
"Don't lie to me," she said sharply, pressing her forehead against his. "You're burning up."
He smiled faintly, the exhaustion dulling the glow in his eyes. "Maybe a little. Guess the heavens really didn't like my blade."
Makino's breath hitched. "You shattered it yourself… didn't you?"
Jin didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted to the broken shards around them. "If it had survived the lightning, it wouldn't have been mine anymore. It was… testing me."
"Testing you?" Hina echoed, frowning.
Jin looked up, his voice calm despite the blood on his lips. "Every weapon has a soul. Some are born gentle, others… monstrous. This one wanted to devour everything. If I couldn't control it, better to break it than let it consume me."
For a long moment, no one spoke. The wind had gone still.
Then Kuina exhaled, relief hidden behind her usual stoicism. "You destroyed your own masterpiece."
Jin nodded. "A blade that disobeys its master isn't a weapon—it's a curse."
Makino stayed beside him, eyes soft but fierce. "Then we'll forge another."
He turned to her, smiling tiredly. "We?"
She smirked faintly. "You think I'll let you burn yourself alive in that forge again? Not a chance."
A laugh escaped him—quiet but real. "Fair enough."
Hina crouched nearby, resting her sword on her shoulder. "If you're going to make a new one, I'm guarding the workshop this time. No more storms."
"And I'll test it first," Kuina added dryly.
"Over my dead body," Jin said, chuckling.
The tension eased. Even under the smell of ash and blood, there was warmth again.
When the others began clearing the wreckage, Makino lingered beside Jin, who sat on the edge of a broken anvil, staring at the horizon.
The sky was clear now—blue and endless.
"You know," she said softly, "you keep calling yourself a mercenary king, but you're starting to look more like a blacksmith god."
He smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Then his tone softened. "Makino… thank you."
"For what?"
"For not running away when the sky tried to kill me."
She smiled. "Someone has to make sure you live long enough to see what's beyond the Grand Line."
He glanced at her, eyes gleaming. "Then I guess I'd better not die before that."
Makino leaned closer, whispering near his ear, "You won't. I won't let you."
For a moment, their eyes met—violet and green, storm and calm—and the world fell silent again.
As the sun began to set behind the mountain, Jin picked up a shard of the shattered sword. The fragment glinted in the light, crimson and black.
"Maybe it's better this way," he said. "The next one won't just be strong—it'll be mine completely."
He turned the shard in his palm, a faint smile forming. "And this time… it won't need to survive a storm to prove its worth."
Makino's hand brushed his, grounding him in quiet warmth.
Jin looked at her, then at the sea beyond.
The storm had passed—but something far greater was coming.
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T/N :
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