A/N:
Dear Readers,
First and foremost, I want to extend my heartfelt thanks to each and every one of you. Your support and enthusiasm have been the driving force behind my writing. It ans the world to that you’ve taken the ti to read and enjoy my fanfiction.
If you’ve liked what you’ve read, I’d be incredibly grateful if you could leave a review and drop a powerstone. Your feedback not only helps grow as a writer but also helps this story reach more people who might enjoy it too.
If you’re able and willing, supporting on Patreon would also make a huge difference. It would allow to dedicate more ti and energy to creating original works, sothing I’m deeply passionate about.
Thank you again for being part of this journey with . Your support inspires to keep writing, and I’m excited to share more stories with you.
With gratitude,
[Silent_stiele]
Patreon : patreon/Silent_stiele
(Gain access to more than 50 advanced Chapters.)
*******
At the ntion of a master, Kozaburo’s gaze followed Miyamoto’s own to where I was seated at the cliff’s edge, enjoying the sea breeze. Even his Observation Haki was unable to detect the true depths of the teen’s strength, who sat in complete harmony with nature. Kozaburo was taken aback; such resonance was only heard of in old family records, and he never expected to encounter such a formidable swordsman at such a young age.
Ignoring his son, Koushiro, who stood by Miyamoto’s side, Kozaburo moved towards . I was already aware of his attention, so I turned to the old man and warmly gestured for him to accompany .
Kozaburo smiled warmly and then turned to his son, Koushiro, his tone stern. "Brat! What are you standing there for? Go and get our guests so tea. Enjoying tea out in the open would be a novel experience." He then turned to , and I nodded in agreent.
"Yes, Father!" Koushiro imdiately bowed and showed no reluctance as he left to arrange refreshnts.
Kozaburo, followed by Miyamoto, then settled beside . His eyes finally laid on the two sheathed blades by my side, and they widened in reverence as he recognized Shusui.
"Brat, tell , did you steal this blade?" Despite his question, there was no accusation in his tone, nor did he make any move to take the blade without my permission.
"What do you think, Kozaburo-san?" I chuckled, eting his gaze, which seed intent on reading my mind. From my estimation, Kozaburo was definitely a powerhouse, likely reaching Admiral level in his pri, though now his strength seems to be on the decline due to his age.
"One cannot wield Shusui unless the blade acknowledges them, so I’m sure the blade must have acknowledged you," he said, his gaze then shifting to Sandai Kitetsu. "This blade seems to have served you well throughout its life," he murmured softly. I couldn’t help but pick up Kitetsu and caress it lovingly. People called it a cursed blade, but it had been my companion for nearly a decade, and I shared a deep connection with it.
"Well, Kozaburo-dono, this is one of the reasons I ca here—to ask if you can reforge this blade for ," I asked sincerely.
Kozaburo’s gaze remained fixed on Shusui for a mont longer before he turned his attention back to Kitetsu. He extended his arm, and I carefully placed the sheathed Kitetsu into his hands.
Kozaburo carefully unsheathed the blade; his heart pained at the sight of it. The blade was shattered, its integrity held together only by the haki flowing through it. For a grandmaster of his caliber, this was unprecedented.
The body of the blade was beyond repair, yet its spirit seed resilient. Kozaburo recalled old records ntioning sword spirits, but this was the first ti he felt strongly that Kitetsu might indeed possess such a spirit.
Only a swordsman who deeply loved and nurtured their blade could imbue it with a spirit, though such notions were often dismissed as myth. Holding Kitetsu in his hands, Kozaburo began to reconsider those ancient tales.
"How long have you possessed this blade, kid? I don’t recall the third generation kitetsu having a black blade. Did you nurture it yourself?" He questioned, scrutinizing every inch of the blade with care.
"I’ve had it for less than a decade, and yes, I’ve nurtured it myself," I replied.
Kozaburo was surprised—a teenager nurturing a black blade was unheard of. For a mont, he couldn’t help but think of his own son and feel a pang of disappointnt, comparing him to such a talent.
Kozaburo was known for his gruff deanor, often disappointed in himself and his heir for not living up to the na of their ancestors. Pushing aside his distracting thoughts, he focused on the matter at hand.
"Repairing this blade is not possible; it can only be reforged. But that would an Sandai Kitetsu will perish, as the new blade will no longer be the sa. Even if there is a sword spirit within it, it will perish if the blade is reforged," he comnted, returning the blade to .
He then requested both Miyamoto and to inspect the other blades while he left to ponder my decision. Normally, Kozaburo would never agree to reforge a sword as unique and potentially spiritually endowed as Kitetsu. Yet, as a master swordsmith, his instincts told him that forging such a blade might lead to the breakthrough he had sought his entire life.
The old man then started carefully examining the remaining blades. Kozaburo returned them to their scabbards and turned his attention to .
"So tell , kid!" Kozaburo began with a piercing gaze. " I don’t believe you traveled all the way to East Blue to find just to have a sword reforged." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "And are you not aware of what your surna ans? You are a Donquixote, which ans you must be a celestial dragon."
The atmosphere on the cliffside tensed instantly. Koushiro, who had been pouring tea, froze as he realized the implications. He knew that I was a notorious pirate, but he hadn’t connected to the Celestial Dragons.
Born and raised in East Blue, he was sheltered from Wano’s deeper history and their enmity toward the Celestial Dragons. His trembling hands dropped the tea cup as he instinctively reached for his blade. Miyamoto, loyal and protective of his master, also bristled in defense, ready to act.
However, Kozaburo’s stern voice cut through the tension, reprimanding Koushiro for his recklessness. "You brat! Do you have a death wish?" He sighed heavily and then turned his gaze toward where I sat, unmoving and still caressing my blade.
"Do you think that kid is defenseless?" With casual nonchalance, he picked up a porcelain cup and tossed it in my direction. As the cup hurtled toward , an invisible force tore through it, reducing it to dust a re ter away.
"If you had drawn your blade, you might not even have a corpse left behind. The kid is not soone you can face at your current level," Kozaburo warned, his voice firm and authoritative.
He then turned to Miyamoto, who had already unsheathed his blade, ready to defend if necessary. "I have nothing against the kid. I simply want to hear your story about why a warrior of Wano follows soone with the bloodline of a Celestial Dragon," he stated calmly, his curiosity piqued.
I couldn’t help but sigh. The old man was truly sharp. Although he had secluded himself in East Blue, his origins in Wano ant he likely knew at least the nas of the families associated with the Celestial Dragons.
"So, unless you tell your true purpose here, I’m sorry, but I cannot help you," he declared, exhaling smoke as he poured himself a cup of tea and savored it.
I weighed my options and realized that lying to the old man wouldn’t get anywhere. I didn’t want this situation to escalate into a needless confrontation.
"Kozaburo-dono, I’ll cut to the chase. I am here for a specific blade, rumored to have been passed down the Shimotsuki line for generations—a blade that even your ancestor Ryuma couldn’t ta," I explained, revealing the primary reason for seeking out the master swordsmith.
Both Miyamoto and Koushiro were surprised; they had never heard of such a blade existing. Koushiro even shook his head in disbelief, thinking I had been misled by so rumor.
"Seriously? Do you really think a sword that couldn’t be tad by the Sword God would actually exist?" Koushiro couldn’t help but ask. Even Miyamoto unconsciously nodded, seemingly agreeing with Koushiro’s skepticism. However, Kozaburo remained silent, his gaze fixed on with a mixture of shock and intrigue.
Although Kozaburo seed calm and composed on the outside, his emotions were a whirlpool, a turmoil that didn’t escape my observation haki and the voice of all things. The old man truly knew sothing about the blade, and I couldn’t help but smile involuntarily. I was a dual sword wielder, and because of the lack of a second blade, I had made do with just Shusui all this while. But now, finally, I had hope.
"Kid, it seems you must have been misinford. There is no such blade that exists." He spoke with a plain tone, but I knew he was lying.
"Kozaburo-dono, if you are worried about my allegiance to the Celestial Dragons, you can rest assured I have no relations with those scum. If you are still unsure, I think this should reassure you to so extent." I undid my shirt and turned my bare back towards them.
All three were shocked to see a symbol etched into my flesh. Kozaburo imdiately recognized the mark as the World Nobles’ mark, the "Hoof of the Soaring Dragon," a mark that was rumored to be indelible.
"You... you’re a slave..." Koushiro whispered, unable to make sense of what was going on. His father had just said that I had the na of a Celestial Dragon, but here I was, bearing the slave mark. This absolutely made no sense.
I put my shirt back on. "Long story short, I have no allegiance to the Celestial Dragons. Just so you know, I have a rare ability that tells when people lie to ," I said with a smile.
Kozaburo’s brows tightened in worry. This was one of the greatest secrets passed down through their lineage. He hadn’t even disclosed this information to his own son, but now an outsider had co looking for them, seeking the sword that should have been unknown to anyone in the world except for himself.
Kozaburo’s eyes bore into mine, searching for any hint of deceit, but he found none. His grip on his pipe tightened slightly. "A rare ability, you say?" he murmured, contemplating his next move.
"I understand your hesitation, Kozaburo-dono. But I hope you weigh your next words carefully. Like it or not, I am a pirate, and when people deny the things that I want, it normally ends in bloodshed. I do not want to resort to violence, especially against a noble lineage like the Shimotsuki clan. You must already be aware that, in your current state, you are no match for ," I said earnestly.
Kozaburo’s jaw tightened, and even Koushirou felt the unease in the air but didn’t act hastily. Miyamoto felt conflicted, knowing that if it ca down to a clash, he would side with because of his warrior’s code. He had already taken an oath to follow , so it didn’t matter to him if he was the light or the darkness.
Kozaburo sighed, deeply conflicted. He took another puff from his pipe before speaking again. "The blade you seek is called ’Akatsuki’, aning ’Dawn.’ It was forged by my ancestors during the Void Century for a specific purpose, with the help of the Kozuki clan. But it was deed untamable, even by Shimotsuki Ryuma himself. It has been hidden away; its power is too great, and its spirit is too wild. It is believed that the blade has even surpassed the 12 Supre Grade Blades."
Koushiro’s eyes widened in shock. "Father, you never told ..."
"It was for your protection, Koushirou," Kozaburo interrupted. "The knowledge of that blade is both a curse and a burden, and its power is a double-edged sword. All my life, I have tried to ta that blade; our ancestors even believed that the blade was cursed, but what I feel is that the blade is waiting for soone worthy to wield it."
Kozaburo turned his gaze back to . "If you truly wish to wield this blade, you must prove your worthiness. The blade will test you, and if you are found wanting, it will destroy you."
He moved his kimono to expose the right side of his shoulder and part of his chest. His entire right side seed dead and turned purple-blue like stone.
Kozaburo’s voice was tinged with a mixture of resignation and caution. "This is the mark of my failure. Akatsuki’s spirit is strong, and it has never accepted a master. It has even consud the lives of quite a few Shimotsuki clan mbers throughout our long history who dared to ta the blade. Are you truly prepared to face this test, knowing the consequences? But you must promise one thing before I reveal its location: if you fail, you must leave and never return, taking this secret to your grave."
I nodded solemnly. "So, the Shimotsuki clan had it all along," I murmured, a smile creeping onto my face. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect the old man to know the blade’s exact location. I had thought the clan might have so leads at best. "I am prepared for the test, whatever it may be. I have co too far to turn back now."
Kozaburo studied for a long mont, his gaze penetrating as if searching my soul. Then, with a sigh, he stood, his expression resolute. "Very well. Follow . The ti has co for you to face Akatsuki and see if you are truly worthy."
User Comments
0 comments from readers