When they left the dream world, it was already evening.
Kuina wandered around the dojo until she found her father, the always-gentle Koushirou, standing by the pond, his hands trembling slightly. As she approached, she felt waves of heat radiating from him.
"Father, what's… going on?" She looked at him, confused. She had never seen her father like this before.
"My apologies, Kuina. I'll be focusing on learning our family's swordsmithing techniques for a while, so I'll need you to take care of the dojo during this time," he explained.
Koushirou dipped his hands into the pond, letting the cool, refreshing water wrap around them, sighing with relief. Kuina watched him, thinking that the work of forging blades must be arduous.
After assigning her a few tasks, Koushirou returned to the forge, enduring the searing heat as he resumed his role as a craftsman.
Inside, Kozaburo was fully immersed in his craft. Lacking modern tools, many processes required manual effort. No longer in his prime, he had to summon all his strength to wield the powerful hammer, each swing pounding into the red-hot steel.
Time slipped by, and seven days passed.
In the forging chamber, a gleaming, double-edged sword had finally taken shape.
"Why a double-edged blade, Father?" Koushirou asked carefully. Such swords were rarely used on the sea. When one edge faced an enemy, the other always faced oneself, posing a risk of self-harm if the weapon rebounded during battle. It was like a cursed blade that could turn on its wielder.
"Because it's meant for a king, Shiro!" Kozaburo grinned, plunging the blade into a pool of water, steam billowing around them.
"Only the final embellishments remain. Let me rest a bit—though, unfortunately, it only reached the level of a Fine Grade sword… I'm truly getting old…"
"I held you back, Father…" Koushirou said, deeply ashamed.
"It's not your fault. Life is full of regrets, isn't it?" Kozaburo replied as he finally drifted into a deep sleep, his muscular arms shrinking, leaving him even more frail than before.
Kozaburo slept for an entire week, only to wake to the roaring sound of his own stomach.
"Meat!" he bellowed, his shout shattering glass and the doors as hunger overtook him.
Prepared for this, Koushirou had surrounded him with food and water. Kozaburo wasted no time and stuffed himself, having gone two weeks without food or water, surviving purely on his formidable strength.
"Father, you're pushing yourself too hard with this swordsmithing," Koushirou said as he hurried over, hearing his father's bellow. Even the body of a warrior had limits, and such strain was reckless.
After devouring four to five tons of food, Kozaburo finally wiped his mouth, ready to speak.
"A true blade requires focus and dedication. Only that kind of commitment can produce an exceptional edge," he said.
"Unfortunately, even with all my effort, I couldn't make it a blade of Wado Ichimonji's caliber." He looked down at his now withered arms, marked with spots of age.
"How's Luffy's progress?" he asked.
"The boy is an exceptionally fast learner. He already grasps the basics of swordsmanship, and now he only needs to continue training and rely on his own talent to improve," Koushirou replied, surprised that his father, who had never shown much interest in the dojo, would inquire about a boy from a pirate crew.
Was that sword meant for him? Would giving such a young child a cursed blade be wise? A fine blade and a cursed blade were of equal quality, but the latter had a fierce temperament, only tamed by the strong.
"Has Luffy truly learned the Shimotsuki style?" Kozaburo murmured, pondering whether he should pass on the way of the samurai to his granddaughter Kuina.
The way of the warrior was one of devotion, sacrificing oneself for the lord's benefit and even laying down one's life if needed. He rose, heading to the dojo's practice area, where the young swordsmen were training. Kuina and Zoro were sparring fiercely, with Zoro's relentless attacks countered effortlessly by Kuina's precise technique.
From a young age, Kuina had trained in the family style, and it showed—she was undeniably superior to Zoro in every way.
The path of Shemingzhi, the sacrifice of name and intellect, didn't suit her. Zoro, with his dual blades and fierce spirit, was better suited for such a path.
"Have they grown this strong already?" Kozaburo marveled.
"Yes, Luffy's been teaching them various body-strengthening techniques. Their skills and combat instincts have improved rapidly," Koushirou said. After all, Luffy was Garp's grandson.
Kozaburo nodded slightly, imagining that Garp had imparted many secrets to the boy. Kuina was an undeniable genius with the blade, and if not for her gender, Kozaburo would have believed she could reach the pinnacle.
But Kuina's ambition was not only to be a strong swordsman; she dreamed of becoming the world's greatest, a feat no female swordsman in history had achieved.
With a conflicted gaze, Kozaburo looked away from his granddaughter. If Kuina had been born male, perhaps she would be capable of repeating the legendary feats of old.
Sensing her grandfather's eyes on her, Kuina felt determined to win beautifully. In a swift motion, she disarmed Zoro, sending his twin swords flying.
"You're still far from ready!" she declared with pride, tilting her head and exposing the graceful line of her neck. Yet, her grandfather's gaze had already shifted to Zoro.
"Humans feel fear because they value their lives," he said. "To discard your name and intellect, to clear your mind and strike—that is the path of the Shura. Shemingzhi."
Passing by Zoro, the old warrior spoke these words before returning to the forge. The sword still needed its final touch.
This young king wouldn't stay here long. When he set off on his journey, Kozaburo would be ready to present the sword.
Kuina lowered her head, gripping Wado Ichimonji tightly, a surge of jealousy rising within her. She gazed up at the endless blue sky, swallowing down the tears that threatened to spill.
Digging her nails into her palms, she reminded herself, It's okay, Kuina. I will prove myself. I can be the greatest swordsman! I won't cry anymore!
"Shemingzhi…?" Zoro muttered, puzzled as he watched the old man's retreating figure.
Turning back, he noticed Kuina's pale face, half-hidden by her hair, her cold and proud gaze fixed firmly ahead.
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