Chương 54: Nidai Kitetsu (II)
This was awkward.
Sukiyaki and I were sitting in a separate room while Marco played with Otama. The tension had eased a bit after I'd used his real name, which had forced him to calm down. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort. I shouldn't have used his real name like that. But, in my defense, I didn't really know what he was going by now.
"Sorry about saying your real name," I started, trying to make amends. "It's just that I don't know the name you're going by right now."
Sukiyaki took a deep breath and looked at me, his eyes sharp behind his mask. "I go by Tenguyama Hitetsu now. How did you know my real identity?"
I shrugged nonchalantly. "Let's just say I have a really good informant, Mr. Hitetsu. Also, let's skip the theatrics, shall we? I've got a meeting with the strongest man alive, and last I heard, he hates tardiness."
Sukiyaki's expression shifted slightly, but he didn't respond immediately. His posture remained firm, his eyes calculating. I could see he understood my words well enough.
"So, you want something from me," he said, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity. "You didn't need to lie to Otama. She's just a child."
I leaned forward, my gaze unwavering. "I didn't lie to her. Everything I said was true. Ace really got caught by the Marines and is scheduled to be executed. His survival depends on whether or not you grant my request."
Sukiyaki narrowed his eyes, clearly intrigued by my words. "And what exactly is it that you want?"
I didn't hesitate. "Nidai Kitetsu."
The moment I mentioned the sword's name, his eyes flashed with surprise. It was more than just a casual reaction—it was a mixture of disbelief and recognition. After all, the Nidai Kitetsu was a closely guarded secret of the Kozuki Clan. That kind of reaction told me everything I needed to know.
I chuckled softly, knowing I had struck a nerve. "Like I said, I have a really good informant."
Sukiyaki quickly regained his composure, the mask of a politician settling over his face. He steeled himself, his eyes cold and calculating.
"Then you must also know that it's a cursed sword."
I shook my head, a sharp conviction in my voice. "There are no cursed swords. A sword is a weapon. A weapon made for killing. It's a beautiful and deadly creation. If a swordsman dies while holding a sword, then that just means the swordsman wasn't strong enough!"
The words felt right as they left my mouth. They weren't just something I had heard from Shimotsuki Kozaburo when he spoke to Zoro—these were my beliefs, too. They had always been. It was something I had learned long ago, during my darkest days with my brother. A sword was more than a tool—it was an extension of the wielder's will. If you aren't strong enough, then you die.
Sukiyaki didn't respond immediately. He just studied me for a long moment, as if trying to gauge my sincerity. Finally, he said nothing but moved toward the corner of the room, where a wrapped sword rested on a stand. He picked it up carefully, as if handling a fragile relic, and then approached me with it.
The sheath of the sword was deep purple, with pale stripes that matched the design of the hilt. Gold clasps circled the middle, and the wrapping around the hilt was pristine white with golden accents. The tsuba was gold and shaped like a rounded cross pattée, symbolizing both its function and beauty. It was Nidai Kitetsu.
The moment I laid my eyes on it, I felt the power in the blade—the bloodlust. It was unmistakable. The sword felt alive, filled with a sort of restless energy that any swordsman worth their salt would instantly recognize. It was a sword that had killed, a sword that had witnessed countless battles and left a trail of blood behind it. This was the legendary sword that had inspired Sukiyaki to make Sandai Kitetsu, the one Zoro carries around.
I sighed as I remembered how Luffy used this legendary sword in the show. Next time I see him, he's going to get a 'Fist of Love' from me.
But before I could even touch the blade, Sukiyaki spoke again, his voice tight with control.
"This is a treasured sword of our clan, passed down through generations. Tell me, why should I give it to you? What do I stand to gain?"
I didn't hesitate. I knew exactly what to say.
"Two things," I replied, my voice steady. "One is hope. Hope that this wretched country will return to its glory days. The days when the seat of Shogun belonged to a member of the Kozuki clan. Hope that the prophecy of Kozuki Toki will come true. Hope that the people of this country will smile again—a real smile, from the heart. Hope that Otama will grow up in a country she truly loves, a country worth fighting for."
I paused, watching his reaction. He didn't speak, but I saw something flicker in his eyes—something like recognition, or maybe even relief. I pressed on, knowing I had to seal this.
"The second thing is a promise. A promise that I'll be here in Wano when the fated day comes. I'll make sure this country is free again, with the least amount of casualties. Your people have already suffered enough. Pirates took over your country 18 years ago, and it would be fitting that pirates are the ones to take down your oppressor, wouldn't it?"
For a moment, there was silence in the room. Sukiyaki's expression hardened, his eyes flashing with a fierce intensity. His voice boomed as he shouted, "You talk about promises and hope. Do you know the weight your words carry?"
I looked him dead in the eyes, unwavering. "Of course, I know. To a swordsman, his words are his bond. If I didn't honor my word, I wouldn't be worthy to wield a sword in this lifetime."
There was a long pause as Sukiyaki assessed me. I could feel the weight of his scrutiny, as if he were looking deeper than just my words—trying to measure my sincerity, my resolve.
I had been through oppression myself. I knew what it was like to be trapped in a hopeless situation, watching days drag by without a single spark of life. I had felt what it was like to be alive but never truly living. I understood the weight of what I was promising. I was sincere to my core, and I would do what I could for this country.
Finally, Sukiyaki spoke, his voice softer now but still laced with determination. "Your words are sincere. But it doesn't matter if you're not strong enough. You said it yourself—there are no cursed swords, just weak swordsmen. Show me that you're truly strong, and this sword is yours."
I nodded. "Then, watch closely."
I unsheathed the sword, the metal humming with an almost otherworldly energy. I focused, channeling my haki into the blade. Suddenly, my vision shifted.
I saw a young samurai receiving Nidai Kitetsu from his Shogun. The battle ahead was already set—an army of faceless enemies stood ready. The samurai's fighting style was agile and precise—like mine. But when he faced the enemy general, the sword faltered in his hands. In that crucial moment, he was cut in half.
The vision didn't stop there. One by one, I saw the sword's previous wielders, each one meeting a grisly death. I saw their fighting styles, their struggles, and their mistakes. Some wielded it with strength, others with agility, and others still with cunning. But all of them died, their bodies torn by their own inability to master the blade.
The visions were fascinating, but ultimately not important. What was valuable was their swordsmanship. There were ten users in total, each with a unique style. Four wielded it using the standard two-handed style, similar to the current samurai. Two focused purely on strength, while one used the backhand grip like Fujitora, a defensive style. The others were ninjas, swift and precise, focused on assassination.
I was intrigued. This was new. The blade seemed to be trying to teach me, showing me the lives of those who had come before me. It wasn't just the sword—it was the blade's memory, attempting to intimidate me with the fate of those who had wielded it.
This was fascinating. It's not every day you get to see so many master swordsmen perform in different styles. I knew that this was not a permanent function. This was only a one-time thing after the first time a person infuses haki into it. I had the potential to learn something from these visions.
The Black Lotus Style that I use is a combination of different types of swordsmanship. Although I primarily focus on agility, I realized long ago that a true swordsman is versatile and can cope with any situation they are presented with. Ten different forms for ten different uses. I had separated them so that I could identify what to use in the given situation. It's just like labeling a graph or a figure. It just helps me to make my decisions faster. It contained almost everything, from movement techniques like the First Form: Blooming Step to aerial mass destruction like the Seventh Form: Thousand Petal Storm. And of course, Titan's Impact was there if I wanted to utterly obliterate something.
But I was still lacking in one department: defense. I have never seen a true swordsman who is fully focused on defense and counterattacks. I had created some sort of makeshift technique, the Fifth Form: Steel Lotus. It was okay in a sense. But against truly strong opponents, I would get crushed.
So, I went to work. I observed the samurai that used the backhand grip. This samurai used a 'Full Counter' type fighting style. I was already an experienced swordsman. So, it didn't take me as much time as it did before to learn the technique. I didn't really need to learn it fully. Just enough to integrate it into my already existing sword style. I decided to name it Mirror's Edge.
The vision had ended, and it seems like no time had passed in the outside world. This was a handy ability. Pity that it can only be used once.
Now comes the part of taming the sword. I wasn't a fan of this part, as I needed to show my abilities.
Weird. Why am I so hesitant to show my full ability? This house was far away from the village. Nobody will know of my abilities if I use it here. Going incognito is starting to affect my psyche.
No more hiding. I have hidden my abilities long enough.
With a mental command, I exerted the full force of my Conqueror's Haki. Dark red lighting started coming out of my body as the ground itself cracked by its pressure.
Nidai Kitetsu instantly stopped resisting after getting a glimpse of my haki. So, I didn't see the need to use it any longer. The time it took to tame this famed cursed sword was even less than a second.
"See, it wasn't that hard?" I said as I looked up at Sukiyaki. But he was blasted off on the other side of the room, a crack forming in his mask. He looked like he was half dead.
I heard rushing footsteps as Marco rushed the room through the now broken door.
"What the hell, Zephyr! What was that!"
As I looked around the devastated room around me, I remembered the real reason I was so adamant about not showing my full ability.
It's because I still can't properly control my Advanced Conqueror's Haki.
SUY NGHĨ CỦA NGƯỜI SÁNG TẠO 
TestSubject5
TestSubject5 Longer chapter today.
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