Loguetown, in a secluded bluestone alley.
"Ding-a-ling!"
With the crisp chime of an old wind bell as the door was pushed open, a gust of air mixed with gun oil, rust, and the musty smell of aged wood rushed toward them.
Zoro was the first to step into the dimly lit weapon shop, his eyes sweeping over the walls and sword racks like a hawk's.
Usopp followed behind, looking around.
Nami patted the bulging money pouch at her waist, then strode in on her little leather boots with the proud air of a wealthy patron inspecting her domain.
All of Zoro's expenses today were on Sister Nami!
The weapon shop owner, Ipponmatsu, had been sprawled on a rocking chair, dozing. Hearing the commotion, he lifted his eyelids slightly.
With the sharp eye he had honed over years of doing business, he could tell at a glance that although the three of them were dressed like pirates, the money pouch at the orange-haired girl's waist definitely had some weight to it.
He immediately put on a mercenary smile and came forward, rubbing his hands.
"Honored customers, are you buying swords or guns? This shop is a two-hundred-year-old establishment here in Loguetown..."
Zoro ignored the boss's endless chatter. His gaze had already been drawn to the storeroom at the back of the weapon shop.
He walked straight over and began rummaging through a pile of scrap metal.
Suddenly, his movements stopped.
Zoro's fingers closed around a sword hilt. As he slowly applied force, the blade slid from its sheath.
"Clang!"
In the dim shop, it was as if a cold, eerie gleam flashed by.
The blade was covered in strange, flame-like wave patterns. The instant it was drawn, a bone-chilling cold crawled up Zoro's arm.
"Oh? That's some sharp sword aura. But