The Flower Capital, the " Mumyo Style " swordsmanship dojo.
This is an old-established dojo. The storefront is not large, but the signboard at the entrance is carved from a single piece of ebony wood. The lettering is somewhat blurred, indicating that it has been around for many years.
The interior of the dojo was quite spacious.
Both walls were lined with knife racks displaying all kinds of knives—katana, tachi, wakizashi, and even a few less common styles.
The floor was made of light-colored cypress wood, worn smooth and shiny by the footsteps of the disciples.
More than twenty disciples were lined up in two rows, practicing basic chopping techniques under their master's guidance.
Their movements were perfectly synchronized, each swing of the knife accompanied by a powerful shout.
The owner of the museum was an elderly man with white hair.
His back was already somewhat hunched, and the wrinkles on his face were so deep they looked like they had been carved by a knife, but his hands, which held the knife, remained as steady as a mountain.
He was kneeling on the cushion at the front of the dojo, his eyes closed, seemingly meditating, or perhaps listening to the sound of his disciples swinging their swords.
The door was pushed open.
A young man wearing a tattered coat and carrying three knives at his waist walked in.
The disciples paused for a moment, turning to look at the uninvited guest.
Zoro stood at the entrance, his gaze sweeping over the furnishings of the dojo before finally settling on the white-haired old man directly in front of him.
His expression was calm, but there was a composure in that calmness that belonged only to the strong.
"I'm here to challenge them."
Zoro's arrogant words initially stunned the disciples in the arena, then they erupted in chaos.
"Challenge?"
"Who is this guy?!"
"Three knives? Pretending to be something they're not!"
The curator opened his eyes.
Those cloudy old eyes looked at Zoro, lingered for a moment on the three swords at Zoro's waist, and then slowly stood up.
" Three-Sword Style?"
"Yes."
"I've practiced swordsmanship for fifty years and seen countless swordsmen, but this is the first time I've seen one wielding three swords."
The curator took an antique katana from the sword rack.
The paint on the scabbard was peeling and faded, but the moment he drew the sword, the cold glint of it silenced everyone present.
"I won't ask your name. Since you're going to challenge me, let's settle things with our swords."
Zoro's lips curled slightly upward as he placed his hands on the hilt of his sword.
One Sword Style or Three-Sword Style?
The curator smiled:
"Don't be shy."
"Since you're Three-Sword Style swordsman, use your best moves."
"Then--"
Zoro drew three swords, biting Wado Ichimonji in his mouth and holding the other two in his hands.
He crouched slightly, his whole body resembling a fully drawn bow.
" Three-Sword Style: Oni Giri."
His figure disappeared from the spot.
The next second, the cold light of the three swords being drawn simultaneously exploded in the center of the dojo.
The museum owner raised his knife to parry.
The moment the blades clashed, the old master felt his hand holding the sword go numb from the force. A shallow nick appeared on his katana, while Zoro's sword had already been sheathed.
One round.
In just one round, the gym leader knew he was no match for this young man.
It's not that their skills are inferior, but rather a pure difference in their level of understanding.
There was something in this young man's blade that he had never been able to cultivate in his sixty years of life—a murderous aura.
It seemed that nothing was unbreakable in the face of this young man.
"The younger generation is truly formidable."
The museum owner sheathed his katana, his tone devoid of any resentment, but rather tinged with satisfaction.
He had seen countless swordsmen in his life, but those who had reached this level at such a young age were few and far between.
"Young man, who is your teacher?"
Just as Zoro was about to answer, a vein suddenly bulged on his forehead.
Because he heard a familiar sound of gnawing on meat.
It came from the walls of the dojo.
All the disciples looked in the direction of the sound and saw a boy wearing Straw Hat squatting on the wall.
He was clutching a skewer of meat he'd somehow gotten his hands on, his mouth stuffed full, his cheeks bulging like a squirrel's.
"Hey! Zoro! Where are we now?"
Luffy held up the skewer of meat and waved it at him, his tone as casual as if he were just saying hello.
Zoro almost drew his sword again.
He gritted his Wado Ichimonji and forced out a sentence through the cracks of his wadoichimonji:
"You idiot—why did you follow me here...?"
Luffy jumped down from the wall and landed next to Zoro, completely ignoring Zoro's dark, almost visibly grim face.
Because it looks boring.
If you go out to fight alone, I'll fight too.
Zoro took a deep breath and sheathed his three swords.
I've decided not to stoop to the level of this idiot.
However, at that moment...
On the street outside the dojo, four figures landed from different directions, completely surrounding the entrance to the dojo.
·······
Let's rewind a few hours.
Onigashima Grand Hall.
Jhin stood below the throne, his face, hidden by a mask, expressionless.
Behind him were burning torches, their flames dancing on his black wings and casting distorted shadows on the ground.
Four figures knelt on one knee before him.
Scratchmen Apoo, Devil Fruit User, has a bounty of 350 million Beli.
He was picking his ear out of boredom, his long face full of impatience.
Buzz Hawkins, the Devil Fruit User, has a bounty of 320 million Beli. He lowered his head, flipping through a stack of tarot cards, muttering to himself.
X Drake, Zoan - Ancient Zoan Allosaurus Form user with a bounty of 222 million Beli. His expression remained as silent as ever, his eyes holding something unreadable to anyone.
Capone Bege, Devil Fruit User, has a bounty of 300 million Beli.
He was kneeling there, a cigar dangling from his lips, dressed in a suit and tie; he looked more like a mafia godfather than a pirate.
" Straw Hat Luffy has infiltrated Wano Country."
"You four, go to the Flower Capital and find him."
Apoo paused in his ear-picking motion. "Looking for Straw Hat Boy? And then what?"
"Know their whereabouts and keep a close watch on them."
Hawkins' hand, which was about to flip the card, froze in mid-air. He glanced down at the card and frowned slightly.
"Lord Jin, my divination indicates--"
I'm not interested in your divination.
Jin interrupted him; the eyes behind the mask held no warmth.
"This is an order. Just execute it."
Apoo shrugged and was the first to stand up. "Alright, alright, we're just killing time anyway."
Bege exhaled a puff of smoke, slowly stood up, and dusted off his suit. "Perfect timing, my city's forts haven't fired in ages."
Drake stood up silently without saying a word.
Hawkins put away his tarot cards, the face of the card revealed the moment it was returned to the deck—the reversed "Tower".
The four turned and walked out of the main hall.
········
At the entrance of the dojo.
When Zoro walked out of the dojo, Luffy was still chattering beside him.
He pulled out another string of dumplings from somewhere and ate them, his mouth covered in sauce.
" Zoro, that Oni Giri you just used was so fast! That old man didn't even see it!"
"Shut up."
"But that old man was pretty amazing too; his knife didn't even fall after you hit him—"
"Can you go back?"
"I don't want to."