Zoro held a wooden sword in each hand, with the hilt of another sword in his mouth at the same time, his eyes glaring like a cat with its fur standing on end.
Roy was genuinely curious; how could this little guy still speak so clearly while biting the knife hilt?
My name doesn't matter.
Roy tilted his head, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Zoro and Kuina before finally settling on Zoro.
"But I have a question—how many times have you lost to that little girl?"
The air in the backyard seemed to freeze.
Zoro's lips twitched violently, and his face flushed.
The boys perched on the wall were trying so hard not to laugh that their shoulders were shaking.
A daring boy poked his head out from over the wall and shouted gleefully:
"Two thousand and one times! I just lost today!"
"Hello!!!"
Zoro was so angry he jumped up and down, pointing at his friends on the wall and cursing them.
"You bunch of bastards!"
Roy laughed out loud, waved his hand to signal the boys on the wall not to go too far, then put away his joke and became more serious:
"Kid, the flaw in your strike just now was indeed as that girl said—"
Your left foot moved too far forward, leaving your center wide open; your opponent is too familiar with your moves.
If we encounter an unfamiliar opponent, we might suffer a great loss.
Zoro was stunned.
He wanted to argue, but Roy's words kept replaying in his mind.
The man only glanced at it, yet he explained his problem more clearly than anyone else.
Kuina stood to the side, her gaze shifting back and forth between Roy and Zoro, a hint of curiosity flashing in her eyes.
She didn't know this man.
But his tone of voice and the certainty in his comments on sword moves gave her a feeling—this person was very strong.
He's so strong that even his father can't compare.
Just then, Koshiro walked into the backyard carrying a tray of freshly brewed tea. He saw that Roy was already chatting with the two children, and his heart tightened even more.
" Kuina, Zoro."
Koshiro tried to keep his voice gentle.
"Greetings to... Mr. Roy."
"Mr. Roy?"
Zoro scratched his head, looking at Roy with a blank expression.
"Who is it? Is it famous?"
Koshiro's smile froze for a moment.
That kid really doesn't know his own limitations.
Roy, however, didn't seem to care at all; instead, his smile widened even more. He crouched down, looked at Zoro, and nodded.
"No, just a swordsman passing by."
Kuina didn't speak, but silently observed Roy.
She was more perceptive and could sense the subtle difference in her father's tone when he introduced the man.
That tone wasn't the politeness one would show to an ordinary guest; it carried a deep sense of apprehension.
Who exactly is this man named Roy?
Sunlight streamed through the bamboo blinds in the backyard, casting long shadows on the stone pavement.
Roy leaned against a pillar in the dojo, smiling as he watched the two boys and girls before him.
Kuina and Zoro, one as calm as water, the other as fiery as fire.
The sight of the two standing together gave Roy a strange sense of harmony.
Just like Roy and Bullet, among others.
They all started by clashing in their youth, and gradually climbed to their respective peaks.
"Hey, you bastard."
Zoro suddenly broke the silence, his eyes fixed on the sword hanging at Roy's waist.
Black Blade Shusui.
The scabbard was smooth and glossy, with a ring of extremely fine dark patterns around the scabbard opening.
Just by looking at the hilt, Zoro knew that this sword was no ordinary weapon.
Although Zoro is only eight years old, he has been training in the dojo since he was a child and has seen quite a few swords.
The Wado Ichimonji sword that Koshiro himself used was one of the Twenty-One Great Grade Swords.
But the weapon before him—or perhaps it was just his imagination—gave him an even stronger sense of pressure than the Wado Ichimonji.
"You look like you know how to use a knife!"
Zoro gripped his wooden sword, eager to use it, his feet grinding against the stone slabs.
"How about it, do you dare to have a match with me?"
If you lose, give me the knife at your waist!
The moment those words were spoken, the air in the backyard seemed to freeze.
Koshiro's face turned pale instantly, and he almost crushed the teacup in his hand.
He had planned everything meticulously, but he never expected that Zoro, that little brat, would issue a challenge right in front of him.
Where did this kid get the guts?
That's the world's top-tier combat power!
If Zoro continues to act so presumptuously in front of this person...
Koshiro broke out in a cold sweat and was about to pull Zoro back when he heard Roy laugh out loud.
It wasn't the condescending mockery, but rather a genuine laugh of being amused and finding it genuinely funny.
Are you sure you want to compete with me?
Roy pointed to himself, his eyes crinkling with laughter.
"Compete with me? What if you lose?"
"If you win, you can have my sword, but you haven't said what you'll do if you lose!"
Zoro's face showed a hint of embarrassment upon hearing this, and he began to stammer as he spoke.
"This... this..."
"I haven't decided yet, but we can have a contest first, and if I lose, you can do whatever you want with me. Is that alright?"
Zoro, with a confident air, raised his chin and displayed the starting stance of his Three-Sword Style.
"Okay! Okay!"
Looking at the stubborn and determined young man in front of him, Roy couldn't suppress his mischievous impulse.
He casually picked up a fallen bamboo branch from beside the pillar—it was a scrap of leftover bamboo from the yard fence, as thin as a bamboo twig, soft and crooked, not even good enough to be used as a knife holder.
"OK."
Roy stood still, beckoning Zoro with his finger using the bamboo stick.
"Bring it on."
Zoro paused for a moment, then the veins on his forehead bulged.
Although he didn't know who Roy was, he could sense that this man looked down on him!
A bamboo branch?
How could he possibly face Zoro's wooden sword, which he had trained with for years?
hateful!!!
"Roar----!!"
Zoro roared and charged towards Roy like a cannonball.
The wooden sword was raised high above his head, and the force of his feet pushing off the ground shook the dust off the stone slab.
This strike was powerful and heavy, delivered at a tricky angle, showing absolutely no mercy.
The boy's frustration at being constantly beaten by Kuina, and the anger from his two thousand and one defeats, all erupted in this one strike.
Koshiro's hand holding the teacup tightened suddenly.
He could tell that Zoro's strike had already shown signs of exceeding expectations.
Normally, for Zoro's age to be able to unleash such power in his slashes would make his master quite proud.
But now he felt his heart pounding wildly, and he almost crushed the teacup in his hand.
Because he could see it clearly— Roy hadn't adopted any stance of defense whatsoever.
He just stood there casually, the thin bamboo stick in his right hand hanging loosely at his side.
Then, at the very moment Zoro's wooden sword struck just an arm's length away from his face, everyone present only saw an extremely blurry afterimage.
Roy flicked his wrist, and the tip of the bamboo stick pointed upwards with a gentle flick.
The strike landed with extreme precision—three inches below the tsuba of Zoro's wooden sword, the weakest point of contact between the fingers and the hilt when gripping the sword.
"Smack!"