Luckily, when the crew jumped ship, they were in too much of a hurry to grab their stash. Kai used a handful of plundered Berries to hire an old sailor who actually knew the route to Shimotsuki Village.
After three days at sea, he finally arrived.
"Thanks," Kai told the old guide as they docked.
He tossed the man his payment and hopped off, immediately hunting for Zoro's old training grounds.
Finding Koushirou's dojo wasn't exactly hard now that he was on the island. Still, Kai kept to the shadows, deliberately avoiding the villagers. Relying on his Observation Haki, he took a leisurely ten-minute stroll before a sprawling dojo came into view.
This is it.
He didn't bother sneaking around anymore. He walked right through the front gate.
Step. Step. Step.
His footfalls were heavy, deliberate. To an ordinary person, it just sounded like a big guy walking. But a few seconds later, a man wearing a simple haori stepped out of the dojo, his face dead serious.
Koushirou.
Unsurprisingly, Koushirou's Observation Haki was no joke. He picked up on Kai's arrival and the blatantly provocative weight of his steps instantly.
"Cori Kai?" Koushirou's eyes narrowed behind his round glasses.
Clearly, the dojo master read the papers. He recognized the 350-million-Berry man standing in his courtyard. The Marines hadn't released the full details of the Impel Down breakout, but anyone with half a brain knew you had to be a monster to pull it off.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Kai?" Koushirou asked, his tone measured.
Kai dropped the intimidation act and smiled politely. "Sorry for the intrusion. I heard there was a master swordsman out here. I came to learn."
Koushirou shook his head. "Just empty rumors. With your level of strength, Mr. Kai, I'm afraid I'd be no match for you. I have nothing to teach."
"No need to be humble," Kai waved him off. "I know exactly where my flaws are. I might have some power behind my swings, but my fundamentals are total garbage. You've got a deep lineage in the sword, Mr. Koushirou. I just want to learn the absolute basics. Please don't turn me down."
He paused, then added, "I'm paying tuition, of course."
What was Koushirou supposed to say to that? Refuse?
What if that pissed Kai off? He didn't know this criminal's temperament. If a fight broke out over a rejection, the entire village could be collateral damage.
In the end, Koushirou accepted the fee, a modest five million Berries. It was a decent chunk of change, but nothing crazy.
By officially taking him on as a paying student, Koushirou gave himself a solid alibi. If the Marines ever came knocking, he could just play the ignorant dojo master who took a stranger's cash for basic lessons. He could simply deny ever seeing the wanted posters or the newspaper. As long as he stuck to the story that he didn't know Kai's true identity, he'd be in the clear.
After all, the news had just broken. It was entirely plausible that a quiet village in the East Blue hadn't gotten the memo yet.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
Out in the training yard, Kai and Koushirou crossed wooden swords.
The movements weren't flashy. No flying slashes, no cratered earth. Just basic foundational strikes. But every time their wooden blades collided, it rang out with the sharp, heavy clang of real steel.
"Your swordsmanship is incredibly advanced, Mr. Kai," Koushirou noted mid-swing. "But it's a mess. You've learned too much from too many sources. Your foundation is shaky, but you've already forged your own distinct style. You can't learn my sword style."
"The best I can do," Koushirou continued, parrying a heavy blow, "is offer you some guidance. The rest is entirely up to your own hard work."
It was the truth. Kai had cobbled together his skills by mimicking the monsters locked up in Impel Down. Every prisoner had their own quirks, their own philosophy on the blade. Back then, Kai hadn't cared about a systematic approach, he just absorbed whatever made him deadlier.
Thanks to his 100x training multiplier, he had brute-forced all those disjointed techniques into his muscle memory, accidentally forging his own brutal style. Calling him a Great Swordsman wasn't a stretch.
But his foundation? Utter trash.
His swordsmanship was like a massive tree with wildly overgrown branches, but a rotting, hollow trunk. He needed Koushirou's basic theories to tear his own style down to the studs and reforge it into something cohesive. Only then would he truly master his own blade and strike with absolute control.
They sparred for the entire day.
Just basic, elementary strikes. Koushirou barely spoke, letting the clash of the wooden swords do the talking. It was the most direct way to force Kai to understand the core principles.
Koushirou really was a master. He knew Kai was already standing at the peak. He didn't need long-winded lectures, he just needed a slight push in the right direction. A simple crossing of blades was enough for Koushirou to transmit the essence of the basics.
This was exactly how he taught. Just like with Zoro, when Zoro insisted on the Three-Sword Style, Koushirou didn't force him to use one sword. He just taught the kid the absolute basics and let him carve out his own path.
He was doing the exact same thing for Kai.
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