The bamboo forest was quiet, almost unnaturally so.
Eli Winters stepped onto the narrow path, the crunch of his boots mingling with the whisper of leaves stirred by the breeze. The air smelled faintly of moss and dew, cool and clean, carrying the occasional trill of unseen birds. The trail wound its way forward like a serpent, and as Eli followed, the dense curtain of green parted to reveal a structure that seemed to grow out of the forest itself.
It was a grand bamboo hall, wide and elegant, its polished stalks gleaming in the sunlight. From a distance, it looked like a jade pavilion embedded in a sea of emerald stalks. The building exuded simplicity and grace, standing in harmony with its surroundings.
Eli's lips curved into a faint smile. It seemed that sword dojos in this world all shared the same preference: solitude among bamboo. He remembered from the stories that even Zoro's master, Koushirou, had built his dojo deep in a bamboo grove.
The plaque hanging above the gate read: Lightblade Dojo. From within, the crisp sound of young voices practicing sword forms carried out through the wind, a rhythm of effort and discipline.
As Eli and Fiona approached, a boy in a grey training uniform stepped out. A wooden practice sword rested at his hip, and his expression was sharp with suspicion. "Who are you? Have you come here to learn the sword?"
Eli smiled politely. "We're travelers, passing through. We heard about the reputation of this dojo and thought to pay our respects. Perhaps even exchange a few techniques."
The boy's eyes lit up with challenge. "So you're swordsmen? Then fight me!"
Eli chuckled. "Come back when you have a real sword of your own. A swordsman's duel is no game to be played with wood."
The boy's face flushed. "I'm not playing around! I'll defeat you draw your sword!"
Eli shook his head, unwilling to encourage reckless bravado. But Fiona, standing at his side, seemed amused. She plucked a bamboo stalk from the ground, trimmed it with a swift snap, and held it like a blade. "If you're so eager, I'll be your opponent."
The boy's nose wrinkled. "I don't fight women."
Eli gave him a silent nod of respect for his courage, then stepped back.
Fiona, however, only smiled sweetly. "Oh? Then I hope you don't cry when I prove you wrong."
Before the boy could retort, she darted forward. The bamboo shaft in her hands flashed with startling speed, moving with the precision of steel. The boy managed one clumsy block with his wooden sword before Fiona's strikes overwhelmed him. Smack after smack landed, each faster than the last, until he was reduced to yelps and flailing limbs.
It looked less like a sparring match and more like a mother disciplining a disobedient child.
When Fiona finally stopped, the boy's arms and legs were covered in red welts. She had deliberately avoided his face to spare him humiliation, but his pride had already been battered to the ground.
"Charcona," came a firm voice. A thin, middle-aged man emerged from the dojo, his eyes calm but stern. "Have you learned your lesson? There will always be someone stronger. Return to your training."
The boy grit his teeth, glaring at Fiona. "She caught me off guard! Next time I'll win!" Still, he obeyed, retreating back into the hall without argument.
The man turned to Eli and Fiona, bowing slightly. "I apologize for my student's arrogance. I am Miyazaki Michi, master of the Lightblade Dojo. Please, come inside."
Eli returned the bow. "Eli Winters. This is my partner, Fiona."
The dojo master led them into a spacious guest room. Tea was poured, its fragrance earthy and calming. As they sat, Miyazaki's gaze lingered on Eli. "So, tell me. What brings a swordsman of your caliber to this humble place?"
Eli set his cup down gently. "We're travelers of the sea. But beyond adventure, I also seek to test my blade. If it pleases you, Master Miyazaki, I would like to exchange swords with you."
Miyazaki's eyes glinted with interest. "It has been some time since I crossed blades with a fellow swordsman. I would be honored."
The three of them spent an hour in conversation first, discussing the philosophy of swordsmanship. Fiona, ever curious, often interjected with questions. Unlike many masters who cloaked their knowledge in riddles, Miyazaki answered her plainly, speaking of technique, breathing, and the mind's clarity. Fiona absorbed every word, her eyes shining with excitement.
At last, Miyazaki stood. "Shall we?"
He led them behind the dojo to a clearing where bamboo gave way to open ground. Several students gathered to watch, including Charcona, who looked on with stubborn determination.
Eli and Miyazaki took their places opposite each other, hands resting lightly on their swords. Neither unleashed their aura fully, but the weight of their presence pressed down on the clearing like an invisible storm.
For a long moment, silence reigned. Then Miyazaki moved.
He blurred forward, his sword a streak of silver. His blade carved an arc so sudden and sharp it seemed to appear out of nowhere, aimed straight at Eli's throat. His style was light, elusive, honed for speed and assassination an art built on evasion and killing intent, like a serpent striking from the shadows.
Eli met it with calm strength. His greatsword swept wide, each swing heavy enough to split bamboo trunks in half. His style was the opposite: forceful, overwhelming, a tide meant to crush and break through any defense.
Steel clashed, sparks flying. Miyazaki's blade flickered, weaving around Eli's strikes with precision. Eli's swings howled through the air, each one threatening to obliterate whatever it touched.
They danced like predator and prey, neither giving ground.
At last, Miyazaki unleashed his signature technique the Phantom Step Cut. His form blurred, vanishing into a mirage that appeared at Eli's flank. The phantom struck for his throat, faster than a blink.
Fiona gasped, her hand tightening on her bamboo sword.
But Eli did not falter. A slash he had loosed moments earlier, aimed at the phantom, reappeared midair, curving impossibly as though bent by his will. The spectral blade collided with Miyazaki's true form, forcing the master to break his attack and defend.
Miyazaki's eyes widened. "You… you can bend your sword's intent itself? That's not something I've seen outside the hands of great masters."
Eli said nothing, only smiled faintly and pressed forward.
The duel raged for half an hour, each strike testing resolve and skill. But eventually, Miyazaki's light steps slowed, his counters grew heavier, and Eli's relentless pressure won through.
The dojo master lowered his blade, breathing hard but smiling. "Remarkable. Your sword intent already surpasses what I have seen in many great swordsmen. At your age… it is beyond belief."
"You honor me," Eli replied. "Your style is exquisite. I ask that you pass it on to Fiona. It suits her more than mine ever could."
Miyazaki nodded without hesitation. "It would be my honor."
Fiona's joy was written plainly across her face. Though Eli had trained her diligently, his path of raw power did not align with her own. But Miyazaki's Lightblade techniques, with their speed and precision, fit her perfectly.
Over the next days, Fiona remained at the dojo to study. Eli, meanwhile, conducted his own experiments after signing into the system. The rewards were generous: 286 Prosperity Points and the training method for the Navy's "Soru," the famed step technique.
Eli passed the method to his companions and drove them into merciless training. Even Daipan, usually reluctant, was forced into the regimen. By the third day, Daipan had mastered the rapid step, while the fishman brothers took five days. Fiona balanced sword training and learned it within two weeks. Only Felina still struggled by the time they prepared to leave.
As for Eli himself? He hardly needed it. Why use Soru when he could teleport?
Instead, his focus turned inward, toward his Devil Fruit. Countless failed experiments had taught him one thing: compressing space was futile at his level. But what if he carved space into objects instead?
His first trials with gold and steel ended in failure. Only blackwood the mysterious timber from the towering tree of the First Island proved strong enough to hold a stable pocket. With painstaking effort, Eli created a space within a sliver of blackwood the size of a backpack.
The system confirmed his progress: Devil Fruit mastery, 99 percent. Awakening was within reach.
Twenty days passed. Fiona's swordsmanship blossomed, the crew's bodies hardened under training, and Eli stood on the brink of a new threshold.
The sea awaited them once more.
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