Chapter 3: The Tale of the Battousai
The warm glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows along the walls of Shakky's Rip-Off Bar as the low murmur of conversations blended with the occasional clink of glasses. The scent of alcohol, aged wood, and a faint trace of tobacco lingered in the air.
Behind the counter, Shakky leaned lazily against the bar, exhaling a slow stream of smoke from her freshly lit cigar. Her sharp, intelligent eyes studied the man seated before her—Ash Veyron, the Wandering Storyteller.
This was a man who had slain a pirate with a 30 million berry bounty in a single instant. A man who, despite his anonymity, now had every pirate in Grove 13 whispering his name.
And yet, he didn't carry himself like some hot-blooded warrior.
No arrogance. No boasting.
Instead, he simply sat there, sipping his drink with a relaxed demeanor, as if the world's chaos had nothing to do with him.
Shakky smirked, taking another drag from her cigar before tilting her head.
"You're becoming famous, you know? They're calling you the 'Wandering Storyteller.'" She exhaled a thin wisp of smoke. "Since that's the case, why don't you tell me one of your stories? I'm kind of interested in it."
Her sharp gaze studied him, trying to decipher the mystery behind his calm expression.
Ash chuckled lightly, setting his glass down. "A story, huh?" He swirled the remaining liquid in his glass, eyes distant for a moment, as if sifting through memories. Then, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Alright. Let me tell you a story from ancient times."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity.
"In a time of war and chaos, there was a man whose sword brought death to many… but one day, he cast aside his killing blade and vowed never to kill again. This is the tale of Kenshin Himura, the Battousai."
Silence Falls Over Grove 13
Outside the bar, the rowdy atmosphere of Grove 13 had noticeably shifted.
Pirates, bounty hunters, and even wandering travelers who had been boasting, laughing, or scheming now found themselves listening.
The voice carried, not too loud, yet impossible to ignore—a side effect of his system's passive skill.
[Passive Skill: Enthralling Narrative]
Allows the Host to captivate listeners when telling a story, making them more engaged and focused.
It wasn't magic. It wasn't haki.
Yet, it had a mysterious allure—an unseen pull that made people want to listen.
Outside the bar, a rough-looking pirate leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He was Kradis "Thunder Fist" Garnett, a known bounty hunter who thrived on taking down small-time pirates.
He scoffed at first. "Hmph. Just some storyteller. Who cares about old war tales?"
But despite his words, his feet didn't move.
Nearby, Marlo "Quick-Hand," a known pickpocket, had been eyeing a drunk pirate's coin pouch—but instead of stealing, he found himself standing still, ears perked.
It wasn't just them.
Civilians. Travelers. Even some lower-ranking marines stationed on Sabaody had quieted down, drawn to the unfolding tale.
A Tale of War and Honor
Back inside, Shakky exhaled a slow breath of smoke, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"So? What's his story?"
Ash smiled slightly, fingers tapping against the wooden counter.
"Before he became the wandering swordsman known as Kenshin Himura, he was just a boy caught in a world of war."
His voice was calm, but each word painted vivid images in the minds of his listeners.
"Born as Shinta, his life was shattered when bandits attacked, killing his family. But fate had other plans. A warrior named Hiko Seijūrō rescued him and took him under his wing, training him in the legendary sword style—Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu."
Shakky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? A legendary sword style? Is it really strong?"
Ash nodded. "Of course. Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu was no ordinary style. It was a technique designed to cut down multiple foes in an instant, perfect for times of war. And Kenshin… he was a prodigy. At just 14, he entered the battlefield, earning a name feared across his country—the Hitokiri Battousai, the Manslayer."
Outside, a burly pirate scoffed, arms crossed. "A kid at 14? Tch. That's not impressive. There are plenty of young swordsmen."
Another pirate, a one-eyed man known as Boro "Sharksword," smirked. "Idiot. Did you hear what he said? The kid wasn't just strong. He was the most feared assassin in his country. You know what that means? He wasn't just fighting. He was killing."
That sent a chill down some listeners' spines.
A child soldier. A prodigy in death.
Shakky took a slow sip of her drink, considering the tale. Then, her lips curled into an amused smirk. "And what was his country called?"
Ash paused for a fraction of a second.
He knew the answer. But he couldn't just say it.
Instead, he smoothly deflected.
"I cannot tell you yet what country he came from," he said, his tone mysterious. Then, he added, "He came from an island nation far across the sea, a land where warriors followed a strict code of honor, yet war and bloodshed shaped its history. For centuries, its people lived by the sword, and even in times of peace, the blade never truly vanished. It is a place where emperors rule, but in the shadows, it was men like him—the swordsmen, the assassins, the wanderers—who changed history."
The pirates outside exchanged glances.
"A country of swordsmen? Never heard of it."
A rugged traveler stroked his beard. "An island nation across the sea? Sounds like some hidden kingdom."
A younger pirate, barely out of his teenage years, whispered, "Could it be Wano? But that doesn't sound like Wano's history…"
Shakky exhaled another puff of smoke, watching Ash carefully.
She knew he was hiding something.
But that only made the story more interesting.
A Tale Left Unfinished
Just as the tension built, just as the story reached the heart of Kenshin's legend—
Ash suddenly leaned back, stretching his arms.
"That's enough for now."
Shakky raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Cutting it short?"
Ash chuckled. "A story is best told piece by piece. I'll tell you more when I have the time." He casually picked up his glass, taking another sip. "Or, if you're really interested, you can visit Grove 1 and listen to my other stories."
Murmurs spread among the crowd outside.
"Grove 1? Wait… isn't that where that famous storyteller is?"
"You mean the one who talked about a hidden treasure island?"
"Yeah! Some pirates actually found it! Gold, treasure—and even a Devil Fruit!"
"A Zoan-type, right? Model: Tiger?"
The realization hit them all at once.
Ash Veyron.
He was the same storyteller that had sent pirates hunting for treasure.
Shakky smirked. "Heh. So you're that guy, huh?"
Ash only smiled. "Perhaps."
And just like that—he left them wanting more.
The Legend Grows
As Ash left Shakky's bar, the whispers continued to spread.
His name was no longer just known in Grove 13.
It was echoing across Sabaody.
And deep within the world of pirates and marines—some were already taking notice.
The Wandering Storyteller was no longer just an observer.
His tale had begun.
[PS/: What do you guys think about the story about Kenshin? Should I continue it when the next time they meet or change to another story?]