Days continued to pass in the Shimotsuki Village, as both Jack and Issho waited patiently for their swords to be completed.
Life in the village had settled into a quiet rhythm, and the members of the Wicked Wench had all found their own ways to spend their time.
Laffitte and Club had grown quite close to Koushirou, though in different ways.
Laffitte often sparred with him in the open field, matching agility against precision, while Club spent his hours sitting near the dojo, asking Koushirou about the history of Wano, its traditions, and the swordsmen who had once walked its lands.
Laffitte had even received a new cane sword from Koushirou, who, aside from teaching, also maintained a small forge beside his house.
Koushirou and Kuwajima were both taught by Kouzaburou in the art of craftsmanship, and they used their skill to repair and maintain the village's weapons and equipment.
Whenever Laffitte approached with an idea or adjustment for his weapon, Koushirou listened carefully, then recreated every detail according to Laffitte's precise explanation.
The result was a perfectly balanced blade, one that felt like an extension of its wielder.
As for Kuwajima, each time he returned home, he would once again be invited by Jack, who never missed an opportunity to speak with him.
Jack's persistence had not faded; he was determined to recruit Kuwajima into his crew, and although Kuwajima remained firm in his refusal to become a pirate, it was clear that his resistance was beginning to weaken.
The more time he spent around Jack and his crew, the more curious he became.
He began asking small questions about their travels, their battles, and the nature of life on the sea. His tone had changed, no longer filled with prideful rejection, but with quiet interest.
Even Koushirou noticed the change, though he said nothing, simply smiling whenever he saw his younger brother listening intently to Jack's stories.
Meanwhile, B had been spending most of his time among the villagers, becoming something of a local hero.
News of his efforts in healing the injured had spread quickly, and the people welcomed him warmly.
Whenever he was not helping around, he would stand in the middle of the village square, performing his rap songs for anyone who would listen.
His style was loud, uneven, and sometimes awkward, yet the villagers loved every second of it.
Even though his rhymes were terrible, his energy and confidence made them laugh and cheer, and that alone made B proud of his performances.
Jack, on the other hand, spent his time in meditation whenever he was not speaking to Kuwajima.
Sitting cross-legged in a quiet clearing near the forest, he focused on the sensation that came from his Devil Fruit — the power that drew strength from anger.
He had long realized that the angrier he became, the stronger his strikes grew, but the cost was dangerous.
Once his rage crossed a certain limit, he would begin to lose control, his sanity clouded, his judgment slipping away.
For a full year, he had trained to master that balance, learning to summon the same fury while remaining in control of himself.
Now, he could feel that he was close to perfection, able to draw upon his anger at will without falling into madness.
This practice also refined his haki, especially his Conqueror's. However, he could feel a strange plateau forming in his progress.
His haki was vast and strong, but it no longer advanced as quickly as before. It felt as though something was missing — the challenge, the clash against others whose will matched his own.
Without facing strong opponents, his haki had begun to stagnate. Jack knew that his next breakthrough would only come through battle, but few in the world could push him that far.
Roger, Garp, Whitebeard, Big Mom, and Kaido — only those monsters in the New World could truly awaken his potential further.
The others, including the mysterious figures hidden within the World Government, were too distant to even consider for now.
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A full week passed since their arrival in Shimotsuki Village. The day was calm, with soft clouds drifting above the forest.
Jack was once again meditating, arcs of faint lightning flickering around his body as he continued focusing his will.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence, and Jack opened his eyes, immediately recognizing the familiar presence approaching him.
It was Kouzaburou. His appearance was noticeably older, his hair slightly grayer, his body frail as though time itself had been drained from him.
Yet his face carried an expression of satisfaction and pride. In his hands were two sheathed swords, both gleaming faintly even without the sunlight touching them.
Kouzaburou smiled widely, though exhaustion was clear in his eyes. "Here," he said simply, tossing one of the swords toward Jack. Jack caught it easily and, without hesitation, drew it from its sheath.
The moment the blade was revealed, the air around him trembled. A faint shockwave erupted, followed by a single, sharp slice that traveled outward, cutting clean through the hill where Jack stood.
For a moment, Jack was frozen, not in fear, but in realization of the sword's terrifying power.
Then, a sudden wave of exhaustion struck him. His muscles grew weak, and his breathing became heavy as he felt the weapon drawing out his strength.
The sword was alive, feeding directly on his stamina, consuming his energy to build up its next attack.
Kouzaburou nodded as if he had expected this reaction. "It is the new Sayafushi," he said proudly. "One of the Supreme Grade Blades. It has a pride of its own — a will that desires to cut. To grow stronger, it will draw the power of its wielder without hesitation, even if it leaves him completely drained. It does not care about its master's state. Its only desire is to be used."
Jack looked at the blade with both awe and determination, even as his arms trembled from the strain.
Then, slowly, a grin formed on his face. He understood exactly what kind of sword this was — one that would not obey anyone weak.
He focused his energy, releasing his Conqueror's Haki at full strength, directing it toward the sword.
The surrounding air distorted as his will surged outward, shaking the trees and splitting the ground beneath him.
Kouzaburou could barely stand from the pressure and had to kneel as the haki engulfed the entire forest.
The others, who were still at the cabin, instantly felt it as well and rushed toward the source.
By the time they arrived, Jack was still locked in his battle with the sword. The Sayafushi refused to yield, its blade vibrating violently as if roaring in defiance.
For more than five minutes, Jack maintained his haki at maximum output, but the sword remained unmoved.
Then, Jack suddenly laughed. "If even my sword dares to challenge me," he said, his voice echoing with power, "then how could I ever claim to be free? I will not be ruled by anything, not even by the weapon I wield. I will be the freest man in the sea!"
As he spoke, his anger fused with his haki, and the lightning around his hands intensified. He grasped the sword tightly, allowing the electricity to flow directly into it.
The blade began absorbing the lightning along with his haki, its color slowly changing from silver to a deep shade of blue, glowing like polished stone under the sun. It looked almost identical to the color of the Rio Poneglyphs.
In one final act of resistance, the sword tried to drain him completely, its hunger growing more violent, but Jack did not falter. He allowed it to consume whatever it wanted, confident in his endurance.
After ten long minutes of silent struggle, the sword's resistance finally faded. The blue glow stabilized, and streaks of light ran along its length, mirroring the energy that flowed within Jack himself. The Sayafushi had accepted its master.
Kouzaburou smiled with satisfaction, feeling relief wash over him. He turned and presented the second sword to Issho, who was standing quietly nearby. Before Kouzaburou could even explain its properties, Issho reached out and took it.
The blade hummed softly, as if recognizing him instantly. Issho smiled faintly. "It's been my partner for more than ten years," he said, gently touching the hilt. "I'm glad that even after all your changes, you still remember me."
Jack watched the moment with visible envy. He had to fight his sword to earn its acknowledgment, while Issho's blade welcomed him without hesitation.
Sayafushi's spirit still murmured faintly in his mind, constantly demanding to be used — a weapon with pride that would only be satisfied in battle.