As he reached the base of the hill, he caught sight of the dojo up ahead. The building itself was simple but sturdy, with wooden beams and a gently sloped roof. Tall, well-kept trees lined the path leading to it, their branches forming a natural archway. The sight stirred something in Erwin—a sense of calm, but also a sense of respect for the tradition and discipline that this place represented.
Taking a deep breath, he continued up the path, the soft crunch of gravel beneath his feet the only sound as he approached the dojo. This was the place where he would begin the next phase of his journey. He had survived a year of isolation and had built himself from the ground up, but he knew he still had much to learn.
Around the building, a group of young students practiced stances under the morning sun, each one focused, sweating, and grounded in concentration. Erwin took a moment to steady himself, realizing he was about to step into a world of tradition, one that was built on years of training and dedication to the art of the sword. The setting filled him with an odd mixture of excitement and nerves. He had traveled here with a purpose—to learn swordsmanship from true masters.
After watching the students for a moment, Erwin approached a boy of about fifteen who was standing near the edge of the practice yard, watching the other students with a keen eye. Erwin's arrival caught the boy's attention, and he turned to face him, his expression curious yet cautious.
"Excuse me, my name is Erwin" Erwin began, bowing slightly in greeting. "I was wondering if I could join to learn swordsmanship."
The student looked Erwin up and down, clearly surprised to see a newcomer, especially one so tall and serious-looking. Erwin's rugged, unpolished demeanor contrasted sharply with the careful, disciplined appearance of the other students. After a pause, the boy nodded slowly. "Follow me. I'll take you to Shimotsuki Kouzaburou-sensei."
Erwin followed the boy across the training yard, his pulse quickening as they entered the dojo. The air inside was still, filled with a reverence that could only come from decades of training. The polished wooden floor gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through open windows, and the walls were lined with swords of all shapes and sizes, each weapon carefully placed and well-maintained. The room smelled faintly of incense and wood, a calming blend that seemed to center Erwin as he walked.
The boy led Erwin to a quieter part of the dojo where a man sat cross-legged, sipping tea with a look of serene concentration. His hair was black and tied in a loose topknot, and his eyes were sharp and assessing. Shimotsuki Kouzaburou.
"Kouzaburou-sensei," the student said with a respectful bow, "this person, Erwin, wishes to join the dojo to learn swordsmanship."
Kouzaburou set down his teacup with a nod, his gaze settling on Erwin with a piercing intensity. It was as if he were assessing Erwin's strength, not just his physicality but his intent and purpose. Erwin felt the weight of the master's scrutiny, and he straightened his posture, meeting Kouzaburou's gaze.
"So," Kouzaburou began, his voice steady yet searching, "you seek the way of the sword?"
"Yes," Erwin replied simply, with an earnestness that surprised even himself. "I want to get stronger."
Kouzaburou raised an eyebrow at the blunt answer, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Strength alone is not the purpose of a sword. The way of the sword requires discipline, respect, and wisdom." His expression turned thoughtful, his gaze sharper. "Tell me, why do you seek strength?"
Erwin didn't hesitate. "To survive in this world," he replied, his tone serious. "To stand on my own."
The dojo fell silent as Kouzaburou considered Erwin's response, his eyes never leaving Erwin's face. Erwin held his breath, wondering if he'd given the wrong answer and if the master might turn him away. But after a long pause, Kouzaburou nodded slowly, as though finding something of worth in Erwin's response.
"Interesting," Kouzaburou said at last, though his tone carried a hint of skepticism. "But words mean little in a dojo. Here, we judge by skill and intent."
Standing up, Kouzaburou gestured to the practice floor. "Show me your purpose, Erwin. Let us spar. I will assess whether you are suited for the way of the sword."
Erwin's heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and caution. He wasn't sure what Kouzaburou expected, but he knew this sparring session would be a test of his worth. "Before we start," Erwin said, choosing his words carefully, "I have a Devil Fruit power. It allows me to create a sword from my blood."
Kouzaburou's eyes flickered with interest, but he merely nodded. "Then use your power. Show me everything you've got."
Erwin stepped onto the practice floor, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. Focusing, he summoned the Blood Sword, feeling the now-familiar sensation as his blood pooled from his palm and took shape. The crimson blade gleamed, its surface smooth yet sharp, and he held it steady, meeting Kouzaburou's gaze.
The master shifted into a ready stance, his movements graceful yet firm. Erwin couldn't help but feel a chill as he realized Kouzaburou hadn't drawn his wooden sword. The sparring match had already begun, but Kouzaburou was content with simply observing, watching with a calm and steady gaze.
"Come," Kouzaburou said, gesturing for Erwin to attack.
Erwin lunged forward, swinging the Blood Sword in a swift arc aimed at Kouzaburou's shoulder. But in a flash, he sidestepped, avoiding the strike with ease, his gaze still focused and appraising.
Undeterred, Erwin tried again, launching a series of strikes from different angles. But each attempt met with the same result. Kouzaburou moved effortlessly, dodging each blow with minimal effort, his expression thoughtful as he studied Erwin's form, footwork, and concentration. With each miss, Erwin's determination only hardened. He pushed himself to move faster, to be more precise, but Kouzaburou remained just out of reach.
Frustration began to seep into Erwin's movements, but he forced himself to stay focused, breathing deeply to steady his racing heart. He had trained relentlessly on the island, fought wild animals, and pirates, and survived under harsh conditions, but facing Kouzaburou was an entirely different challenge.
Each time Kouzaburou dodged, Erwin tried to adjust his stance, to refine his technique, but it felt like chasing smoke. The master was assessing him, yet Erwin couldn't shake the feeling that he was coming up short in every way.
Finally, Kouzaburou's expression shifted. With a faint smile, he took a step back, his gaze now slightly warmer. "You have strength, but you have yet to find purpose in your blade," he murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear. "Now… let us begin for real."
Kouzaburou took a more grounded stance, his posture revealing the practiced ease of a true master. Erwin tightened his grip on the Blood Sword, feeling both excitement and dread. He had shown everything he knew, yet Kouzaburou was only now getting serious. For the first time, Erwin felt the full gravity of what it meant to stand before a swordsman of such skill and experience.
Kouzaburou moved with speed and grace which left Erwin no time to react. The master's movements were precise, like a flowing current that slipped through every gap in Erwin's stance. It was clear now: this match had been Kouzaburou's test from the beginning. He was studying Erwin's every motion, every weakness.
And as Erwin prepared himself for the master's first true strike, he understood that Kouzaburou's real lesson had just begun.