"This is your last battle, Zoro. Your mission is to return with Boru's head—only then shall you receive your freedom. Though I doubt you'll achieve such… do the impossible, Zoro."
The man spoke coldly, staring through his glass window at the world he never had to bleed for.
"Nice to finally meet you, Zoro."
Boru pressed his sword into the earth before sitting cross-legged. Zoro mirrored him.
Pippo gasped, unsure if his father had lost his mind.
Boru pulled out a bottle and grinned. "I want to fight you at full power. Drink this—it'll heal you, give you a little fire."
Zoro studied the sake, then nodded. "I've never heard of such a brew. I shall accept it… with gratitude."
Pippo's eyes widened. Father, are you mad? Drinking from the enemy's hand?
"Can you send me to paradise?" Boru asked.
"That is not for me to decide."
"Then is it fate?"
"It is for the Most High."
Boru chuckled, raising the bottle. "Careful—my sake must be clouding your head. In this world, only death sets you free. Free from the flesh. Free from its rot and impurities."
Zoro's gaze sharpened. "Why must it be in death? Why not while we still breathe? Can the flesh not be free?"
For a moment, Boru stopped drinking and studied him. "So you believe that once these people 'release' you, you'll be free?" He laughed. "That's ignorance. You call it peace because that's all your eyes are allowed to see. This world—" his hand sliced the air like a blade "—is a cage. You mistake it for paradise. Yes, you can stretch your wings, fly a little, but never beyond the bars. That's why you call this delusion freedom. But freedom without truth… is a dream that never ends."
Zoro rose to his feet, sake burning in his chest. "Then I will make that dream into reality. For neither you nor I know what awaits after death, nor what lies outside these walls. But I will break through, and I will see."
Boru grinned, finally standing. "Let's see how high you can fly, little raven."
He flicked a coin into the air. It spun, catching the light like a silver eye.
When it struck the sand—steel clashed with steel.
The battle between raven and hawk had begun.
Pippo shielded himself from the roaring wind, dust prickling his skin. Kael stood beside him, gaze fixed on the duel as if caught in a dream.
Sparks flared as their swords met. Smiles curved their lips, but their eyes burned with purpose. Around them, the other warriors knelt in a perfect circle, blades pressed to the ground.
Each strike shook the earth, though the others could only hear it like a strong, gusting wind. Blood sprayed after Zoro's cheek was cut, hovering like raindrops suspended midair.
Zoro pushed off the sand, moving like wind. Boru barely dodged a slash at his throat.
Boru's gaze fell to his own feet, then he stopped, his breath even. "I apologize for that," he said softly, meaning not the strike—but stepping back, pulling away from the clash instead of advancing.
With deliberate precision, he cut his own leg—matching the disadvantage he had created by stepping back.
Zoro's eyes widened, then he did the same, slicing his own leg. Now they were on equal footing, physically and spiritually, ready to fight not just with skill, but with mutual respect.
This moment hit Pippo like a punch to the chest.
Time seemed to slow. Zoro let go of his sword, flipping backward as Boru advanced. The Hawk struck like a predator, but Zoro twisted, dodging like a shadow.
A dagger suddenly flew from Pippo's trembling hands. Steel clashed against steel.
Zoro felt the sake coursing through him, sharpening reflexes and spirit. Boru paused, laughing softly, then tossed his sword aside. "Hey, give me a dagger."
Someone threw it, and Boru smiled, calm and equal. "Thanks."
Is this even a fight? Pippo thought, stunned.
They danced faster now, wind whipping around them. Blood painted the air, yet their smiles brought warmth amidst the chaos.
"Let's take this up a notch," Boru said, dark energy spiraling around him. His spirit flared.
A green aura enveloped Zoro. He blitzed forward, only to find his hand had betrayed him, left behind mid-strike. Blood spattered across Boru's face.
Zoro grabbed the dagger mid-air, retaliating with the precision of wind, nearly decapitating Boru. The Hawk bent gracefully downward, hair streaming, eyes gleaming.
"Dad!" Pippo cried, heart pounding.
Zoro, with one leg and one arm, still moved with grace. The force of their clash repelled them.
"Young Raven," Boru's voice rang, "I command your wings and claws. Truly, you are the strongest warrior I've faced since my golden age. Break your cage, fight me at your best!"
Warriors braced, sand swirling slowly. The two grinned, then vanished into the storm.
The sound of battle was loud yet eerily calm. Zoro's dagger hovered midair, his body battered, yet senses razor-sharp.
"You always aim for the head," Boru said, voice steady. Then he walked away. The other warriors stared, shocked. He's not taking his head.
"Thanks for the fight," Boru called over his shoulder. "I'm satisfied, even if you couldn't fulfill my wish."
Zoro's dagger fell slowly. Blood oozed, vision blurring, yet he smiled warmly.
Is this the end? he wondered. Am I free?
A fist pressed against his back. He didn't look, but he knew the touch.
"John," a voice whispered. "Is this how high your wings can fly, Zoro? Fly, young warrior, and join me in paradise."
The dagger reflected Zoro's eyes—broken yet alive. Wings of a raven seemed to fall across the field, brushing against amateurs' petals.
Boru felt a dark presence, as if every snowflake carried judgment. He grabbed his sword—but it shattered as Zoro appeared behind him.
"Well," Zoro said, bloodied but smiling, "I'm not satisfied yet… not until I've broken this cage."
Petals flew red, sand danced in Pippo's eyes. Boru recalled his lifelong battles, the deaths, the survival. He had believed that a Deadman's eyes told truth—the eyes of a free man. Now he understood.
"Thank you, Zoro, for freeing me in my own cage," he whispered.
Zoro's dagger fell from his mouth as he stood, bruised and bloody, with one leg, no arms… yet a warm, content smile graced his face.
Pippo embraced his father, tears blurring his vision. Zoro placed a trembling hand on his son's head.
"My wings are broken, but yours… so bright. Fly, my son. Let not the sky…" He coughed blood, gasping for air.
"But the heavens be the limit," Pippo whispered.
"Shut up! Mom is waiting for you — we are going home!" Tears streamed down Pippo's face.
"Tell your mom… we shall meet in paradise."
Before Pippo could respond, fifty black rods pierced Zoro from behind. Pain exploded through his body.
Jack tossed an arm around him, grinning. "You know, Zoro… I never thought you could actually pull it off." He raised Boru's head. "I was told to set you free afterward, so you're welcome. You were already dying, but then again… this is protocol. I hope you understand."
Zoro pressed Pippo closer, shielding him from Jack's cruel words. Blood fell like rain across Pippo's face.
"Dad! Let me go!" Pippo cried.
"You know, Zoro, I had you visit your wife… yet you never noticed I had impregnated her. Hahaha… how oblivious can you be?"
Zoro's brow furrowed, but he couldn't move — caught between paradise and reality, hovering at the edge of death.
Jack's grin never wavered. "Truly, I must say I respect you as a warrior. I'll honor one request before you join your ancestors home you failed as king … though your wife is not included. Don't worry about your son; Ecardwark is a fitting place for him."
"May you never set foot in paradise. Death is not enough to satisfy my wishes for you," Zoro said, staring at the sky. "Free my people, and give Boru a proper burial."
Pippo felt a strange warmth — no longer blood, but tears falling from his father's grip, his last warmth. Zoro's hold loosened, his body running cold as he whispered his last words:
"I'm sorry, my son… I'm sorry for bringing you into this cruel world."
Yet even pierced, battered, bleeding, Zoro still stood on one leg, holding Pippo with unwavering care. His dagger hovered in front of him, eyes sharp despite the haze of death. His spirit refused to break, even as his body failed him.
In that moment, Pippo saw everything: courage, sacrifice, and love distilled into a single figure. One leg. One heart. A father giving all he had until the very end.