"Big Brother, is it really a good idea to let the clan members split up now?"
Uchiha Itachi walked over to Yoru, frowning.
He knew the clan members' temperaments all too well. In this unfamiliar place, what if they stirred up trouble again...
"It's fine. Just remember, don't mess with the strange people wearing glass bubbles over their heads. They're Celestial Dragons. Leave them alone for now."
"Aside from them, you're strong enough to look after yourselves on this island."
After hearing Itachi out, Yoru added those two warnings for the clan.
What a joke. Yoru figured even the weakest of the elite Uchiha he'd brought along could hold his own against a so-called Supernova.
If someone that strong couldn't move freely around Sabaody,
then what was the point of getting stronger? They might as well find some little island and hide there for the rest of their lives.
The Uchiha exchanged glances, eagerness flashing in their eyes.
They had been cooped up on Kuja Island for months. They had sparred with the women warriors there, but those had only been practice bouts where everyone held back.
Ever since they'd landed on the Sabaody Archipelago, the open hostility around them had felt oddly familiar—almost welcoming.
"Then meet in Area 30 at sunset."
Yoru added, "If you run into trouble, fight. If you can't win, run. I don't need to teach you something that simple, do I?"
"Yes!"
After their reply rang out in unison, more than a dozen figures in black scattered.
Like drops of water vanishing into the sea, they disappeared into the maze of streets in the blink of an eye.
Shisui watched them go, his brow slightly furrowed. "Clan head, will they really be all right?"
He shared Itachi's concern. He was afraid Tekka and the others might stir up trouble.
"Shisui, you're too tense." Yoru patted him on the shoulder.
"They're not children. Believe it or not, I think they'll adapt to this world's rules faster than you two."
He paused, a hint of amusement entering his eyes.
"No matter where you are, the one with the biggest fists calls the shots. It's time the Uchiha showed this world what they can do."
Two streets away, Uchiha Inabi hadn't gone far.
He stood outside a weapons shop, his gaze fixed on an unusually shaped sword.
The shopkeeper was a one-eyed old man polishing another long sword. Noticing Inabi's interest, he looked up at him.
"You've got a good eye, sir. That's En'yōmaru, a Ryo Wazamono that came out of Wano Country. Unfortunately..."
The old man shook his head. "Someone's already reserved it."
Inabi reached out and gripped the hilt.
He drew the blade three inches from its sheath. Its cold edge gleamed.
"I'll take this sword," Inabi said calmly. There was no room for negotiation in his voice; he spoke as though it were already settled.
The old man raised his eyelid, irritation showing in his one eye.
"Didn't you hear me? It's taken. A local gang boss reserved it. He's bringing more than thirty men to collect it. You don't want to cross him."
He had barely finished speaking when a jumble of footsteps sounded outside the shop.
A crowd of burly men in floral shirts, their tattoos on display, came in surrounding a man with a mohawk.
The man spotted Inabi at once, then glanced at En'yōmaru on the counter and grinned.
"Old man, where's my sword? And why's some charred-looking guy blocking the door?"
Inabi didn't turn around. He merely raised a hand and pointed at En'yōmaru. "I'll take that sword."
The Mohawk Man doubled over laughing as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world.
"Do you know who I am? You dare try to take my stuff? I'll peel your skin off and use it as a sail!"
Inabi finally turned around. His gaze was cold as ice.
The Mohawk Man's laughter stopped dead.
Inabi's black eyes were fixed on him, so calm they were unsettling.
"I'll say it again," Inabi said softly, his words reaching everyone in the shop. "I'll take the sword."
The one-eyed old man instinctively stepped back and ducked behind the counter.
He had seen scenes like this far too often on Sabaody.
It was no concern of his. Whoever won, he would sell the sword to him.
"Heh. You're asking for it."
The Mohawk Man stopped smiling, his eyes turning vicious.
"Break his legs. Make him kneel and watch me collect my sword."
More than thirty burly men moved at once, drawing machetes and iron clubs from their belts. Two even pulled out old-fashioned guns.
The weapons shop was cramped. With so many men rushing in at once, almost every escape route was cut off.
Inabi moved.
He wasn't fast. He simply raised his right hand, pressed his index and middle fingers together, and formed the ram hand sign.
"Fire Release—"
Flames poured from his mouth, but they didn't surge toward the crowd. Instead, they gathered and took shape before him.
"Dragon's Fang Flame."
Three slender fire serpents shot from his mouth. Each was only as thick as an arm, but they moved like living things!
They wove through the cramped shop and coiled precisely around the wrists of the six men at the front!
"Aah!"
Six screams rang out at once. Their weapons hit the floor with a clatter, and their wrists were blackened.
The fire serpents withdrew after that single strike and vanished into the air, leaving only the smell of burned flesh.
"A Devil Fruit user..." one of the men said, trembling.
"What are you afraid of? There's only one of him! Get him together!"
The Mohawk Man roared through gritted teeth.
The remaining twenty-odd men charged again. This time they attacked from different directions, hoping Inabi couldn't defend himself on every side.
Inabi didn't even move his feet.
He merely closed his eyes, then opened them again.
The three tomoe of his Sharingan spun.
In that instant, every charging man seemed to slow down in Inabi's eyes.
It was like watching a film in slow motion.
Inabi moved.
He took one simple step to the left, avoiding the machete swinging at his face.
His right elbow drove backward, striking the ribs of the man sneaking up behind him.
He raised his left hand, caught an iron club swinging from the side, and pulled it along its path.
Bang!
Three burly men collided and fell, unable to get back up.
The Sharingan's ability to track movement, combined with the Taijutsu he had honed over months on Kuja Island, let him slip through the crowd like a fish through water.
Every strike hit a vital spot. Every dodge came at just the right moment.
In less than ten seconds, the Mohawk Man was the only one still standing.
His face was deathly pale, and the hand gripping his sword shook.
Inabi walked up to him.
"I'll take the sword. Do you still have a problem with that?"
The Mohawk Man's lips trembled. But in the end, his pride as a Sabaody gang boss drove him to grit his teeth and swing his sword!
The blade stopped in midair.
Inabi held its edge between two fingers.
He made it look as easy as catching a falling leaf.
Crack.
The blade, forged from fine steel, shattered between his fingers.
"Last chance."
Inabi's voice remained calm. "Give me the sword. Or leave your life here."
The Mohawk Man finally broke.
He collapsed to the floor, a wet patch spreading across his crotch, and pointed a trembling finger at the counter.
"Take it... It's yours. Take everything..."
Inabi withdrew his hand and turned toward the counter.
He stole a glance at the two fingers he'd just used to snap the blade.
A faint smile touched his lips.
My body really has gotten a lot stronger!
Before you continue