"There's a ship incoming, if you can call it that!" Yoruichi's voice rang out, amplified by the wind as she clung to Iron Whiskers' crow's nest, squinting towards the oncoming anomaly on the horizon.
"What do you see?" Ryu's call echoed back from the ship's helm as he looked up at her.
"Beats me," Yoruichi replied, confusion and curiosity oozing from her voice. "Ship? No, wait... an island? This thing is weird."
A ripple of laughter drifted upwards from Ryu. In a blink, he shimmered out of sight only to materialize next to Yoruichi, his gaze scanning the incoming mystery.
The vessel was a unique ship consisting of two distinct parts. The ship had enormous outer walls that were constructed from eerie gray stone that seemed to leech the little color left from the surrounding sea.
The walls featured a large gate that resembles a toothy mouth, creating an unsettling entrance. At opposite ends of the walls, there were two enormous masts adorned with worn-out sails. These sails bore the words "Thriller Bark" in faded black color.
Nestled within the ship's colossal walls was an island shrouded in unsettling mist. Ryu and Yoruichi didn't need to step foot on the island to feel its gloomy atmosphere. Eerie structures rose like specters from the ground, their weathered fronts carrying the weight of forgotten tales.
Crooked mansions stood with broken windows and sagging roofs, while twisted cobblestone pathways wind through overgrown gardens, where skeletal trees cast elongated shadows on the desolate ground.
The vegetation on the island appeared twisted and malformed, as if shaped by pure malice. Thorny vines wrapped around crumbling stone pillars, their sharp tendrils reaching out like skeletal fingers.
Sickly, pale flowers bloomed in eerie hues. Graveyards punctuate the landscape, where weathered tombstones stood next to Moss-covered statues.
"Damn, this is a good design," Ryu's voice had a hint of fascination. "Why is the owner of this place a pirate, he should be a designer instead."
A smirk unfurled on Yoruichi's lips as she seemed to notice something. "Ryu?" she began, her tone wrapped in wry amusement.
"Mmm?" he replied, still examining the island.
"You owe me breakfast, it's zombie island," Yoruichi chuckled as her gaze fell on the island's inhabitants.
"Ugh, fine," Ryu said with an exaggerated groan, causing a giggle to escape Yoruichi's lips.
"Well, we best get going. I located Brook's shadow. When I'm back let's give our new cannons a test run," Ryu smirked before vanishing from his spot.
---
In one of the island's graveyards, a zombified Samurai wandered around, patrolling the area. This once proud and living warrior was now transformed into a living abomination, his body desecrated beyond repair. His face was somewhat obscured by bandages, showing only his gaping, eyeless sockets, with his left one decorated with a large scar. Additionally, his mouth was hidden behind a faded blue scarf.
The zombie's outfit, a relic from his past life, was a weather-beaten white samurai garment adorned with intricate red patterns that seemed like badges of honor.
He had bone-white hair tied back in an untidy topknot that wobbled with his movements. He wore wooden sandals that clacked against the stone ground beneath him, a sound that echoed through the silence of the graveyard.
The worn-out blue band around his stomach stood out, its unique swirling design a contrast to his otherwise monotonous attire. Yet, strapped to his hip, was something that was much more telling of the samurai's past and his identity.
Suddenly, the zombie whipped around in surprise as he sensed someone behind him. With a swift, fluid movement, Ryuma unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the man before him.
The blade that he drew was a masterfully made Katana with an ominous aura matching that of its owner. The blade had a pitch-black hue, with an unusual reddish-purple hardening line that gave it an otherworldly feel. The wave-like pattern engraved along the edge was a clear mark of its superior craftsmanship, its radiant color in stark contrast to the rest of the black blade.
The sword was simple in its design, its hilt wrapped in plain black silk and devoid of any flashy accessories. Its guard, designed to mimic a flower's outline, had an unusual dark golden color, lending it an air of elegance. The sheath, in synchrony with the blade, was black but bore a series of concentric circles, each divided into thirds.
"A Samurai, huh?" Ryu murmured, his voice a husky growl, barely a whisper. From his own universe, he understood the Samurai's sacred bond with honor. Witnessing their proud bodies desecrated, puppeteered into battle against their wishes— he found it a dishonor beyond words. And after examining the Samurai with Rikai, absorbing the memories of his body, Ryu was furious.
This was no ordinary Samurai, but a man revered as the Sword God. A stark contrast to the failure of Yoruichi's universe, this one bore the title like a birthright. Ryu was a god with swordsmanship in his realm of divinity, yet he felt a true shiver of awe in the face of the Samurai, Ryuma's, achievements.
He was not supported by millennia of practice, nor did he have any mystical abilities. His only advantage was the talent he was born with, honed by enormous amounts of sweat and blood. In less than the span of three decades, he had ascended the heights of mastery that would have made him a formidable god, if he had the chance to become one.
Before the zombified Ryuma could react, Ryu vanished from sight. In a heartbeat, he reappeared behind the Samurai, taking away Brook's shadow. With the life force abruptly withdrawn, Ryuma's body began its inevitable descent. Yet, before it crashed to the earth, a glimmer sparked within the hollow sockets of its eyes and a firm leg drove forward, halting the fall.
"What... What is this... I'm back?" Ryuma, the real Ryuma, voiced his confusion, a quiver of horror palpable as he surveyed his rotten limbs.
"Not quite," Ryu said with a touch of sadness in his tone. "After your death, your grave was ravaged by the master of this place. For the last 20 years, your body has been reanimated to guard this area," Ryu explained with a solemn look.
"I see... So why did you bring me back? To see how I've been dishonored? Well, I suppose I prefer knowing that I've been defiled than live in ignorant bliss," Ryuma said in appreciation, though the disgust in his eyes was evident.
"That was part of the reason, yes. But I also wanted to offer you a way to redeem your honor. Destroy this place, kill the man who imprisoned you and all his men, you're more than capable," Ryu offered.
"And after that? Will I roam the land as an undead abomination? I'd kill myself, but I don't know if a body that died once can die again," Ryuma questioned.
"Don't worry, I'll kill you in a dual, that way you'll pass on with your honor intact" Ryu said with a sincere expression.
"I don't mean to sound arrogant, but are you capable of that? You seem to know me, so you must know what I'm capable of," Ryuma said with a hint of doubt.
"Don't worry, I'm more than capable," Ryu replied with a confident smile.
"Alright, I'm excited now. The lunatic and his army are on this island, correct? Then I just need to tear it apart," Ryuma said with a small smile as he got into a fighting stance.
"Don't you want to kill him up close? You know, revenge and all?" Ryu raised a questioning eyebrow.
"I was planning on doing that, but it'd take too much effort. Plus, I've never met a swordsman who can match me. If you aren't bluffing, I'm content with knowing that he and his army are dead. I've no need to cause them any suffering," Ryuma said with excitement dripping from his tone.
"Now watch this, and tell me if you can truly fight me as an equal," Ryuma said as he adopted a serious expression.
Now that Ryuma was serious, his entire being emanated an aura of raw power, a palpable force that seemed to distort the air around him.
In an instant, Ryuma transformed into a cyclone of sword strikes, his movements a dazzling show of precision. His katana blurred through space with such astounding speed that calling his movements blurred would undersell their speed. Every strike, every motion, was an exhibition of supreme skill.
His attacks were not adorned with any flashy effects. No energy blades, or flamboyant displays. Ryuma's swordsmanship was a force of nature, pure, unrestrained, and beyond any petty theatrics.
Finally, with a final stroke, he sheathed his sword, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
In that moment of eerie silence, the island itself seemed to shudder and buckle under his power. Every aspect of its existence, the buildings, the wild undergrowth, and any lifeform that roamed the island, all disintegrated. Cleaved into fragments no larger than a thumb's width.
As the dust settled, the island stood reshaped, a wasteland of ruins and desolation. What was once a place full of buildings and zombies, was now a display of Ryuma's skill.
"Think you can match that? I was only using a third of my abilities there, by the way," Ryuma said with a wink.
"Sure, that much isn't a problem. Though for a third of your power, it's kinda weak," Ryu commented.
"My body is, quite literally, rotting away. I bearly have any muscles left, what do you expect?" Ryuma raised an eyebrow.
"Ah, right. But this won't do. For your final battle, you've got to be in peak condition. Here, let me fix it for you," Ryu flashed a smile as he snapped his fingers, causing a mysterious light to envelop Ryuma.
The glow bathed Ryuma, forcing his body to halt and shudder. His ghastly skull face, hidden under bandages, started to fill out, reclaiming its long-lost humanity. His empty eyesocets grew eyeballs and his missing nose grew into place. The ghostly pallor of his skin grew warmer, almost lifelike, as color was seeping back into his flesh. His hair, once the color of bones, gradually darkened, the luminous white strands replaced by strands of a familiar black hue.
The transformation was far from painful. Instead, it was a sensation of rebirth, a renewal of lost life. The worn-out samurai attire on Ryuma's body started rejuvenating, as if mended by invisible hands. His blue scarf unraveled, revealing a mouth no longer ghastly but quite ordinary, the mouth of a living man. Even the wooden sandals on his feet seemed to regain their former sheen.
"That's better. Now, let's send you to the afterlife a second time," Ryu said with a proud smile as he summoned his swords.