"Mist Breathing Fourth Form: Shifting Flow Slash!"
Yoriichi Tsugikuni's blade slashed out with a quiet elegance—yet beneath that grace lay a force terrifying enough to decapitate any of the Upper Moons with ease. Even Muzan Kibutsuji himself, the King of Demons, would have had no choice but to bow his head beneath its edge.
The bamboo sword, carrying the weight of that devastating power, swept toward Zephyr in a flash.
Clack!
Wood struck wood with a crisp, ringing sound.
With a single, effortless motion, Zephyr lifted his own bamboo sword and parried Yoriichi's strike as if swatting away a leaf.
"Ha!"
"Heh... now that's an interesting move, kid."
Zephyr's mouth curled into a radiant grin as he casually deflected the blow. Though Yoriichi had drawn upon the swordsmanship of the Breath of Mist, a style capable of cutting through demons and nightmares alike in his original world, his strike was brushed aside as though it were child's play. One glance at Zephyr's relaxed stance, and Yoriichi immediately understood—the difference in their strength was immense.
"So that's how it is… Against an opponent like him, probing attacks are pointless."
"From the very start… I have to go all out!"
He exhaled deeply.
With their bamboo swords still locked, Yoriichi maintained his posture. Then, in a sudden burst of tension, his muscles snapped taut. Twisting his blade to deflect Zephyr's strength, he pushed off the floor with both legs, instantly closing the gap between them.
Breath of the Sun — Third Form: Raging Sun Mirror!
The moment he reached Zephyr, Yoriichi twisted his arm and slashed upward with a reverse grip. Though it was just a bamboo sword, flames surged along its surface as though the sun itself had kissed the blade.
"Such a fierce, bloodthirsty technique…"
Zephyr watched as the flaming bamboo sword cleaved toward his neck, awe flickering in his eyes. But rather than retreat or parry—
He reached out and caught the blade with his bare left hand.
"What?!"
Yoriichi's expression froze. He'd anticipated a dodge. Perhaps a block. But this?
He hadn't expected Zephyr to simply grab the sword mid-swing.
Not only was the man's reaction shockingly fast—fast enough that Yoriichi couldn't evade—it was also absurdly reckless. Even though it was a bamboo sword, under Yoriichi's technique it became a deadly weapon, one that should've torn through flesh with ease.
But now?
Zephyr was holding it with his hand.
Through the Transparent World, Yoriichi could see it clearly: a condensed aura of force gathering in Zephyr's palm.
"That… that must be Haki."
"Kid! You're wide open!"
With a thunderous shout, Zephyr moved. His right hand—still holding his bamboo sword—suddenly transformed into a hammering fist. He didn't strike with the blade.
He punched.
His massive fist, big as a cannonball, shot toward Yoriichi's face. With no time to counter, Yoriichi had no choice but to leap backward, twisting in the air. Using the force of Zephyr's grip on his sword as leverage, he delivered a spinning kick aimed squarely at Zephyr's face.
"Hahaha!"
Zephyr chuckled softly.
He didn't dodge.
He took the kick head-on.
And still didn't flinch.
Yoriichi instantly released his grip on the bamboo sword and used the recoil to flip backward, retreating several meters through the air before landing in a crouch.
One hand on the ground, he stared silently at Zephyr—still standing there, holding his bamboo sword.
He'd been disarmed in a single exchange.
Zephyr might've fought a bit dirty… but Yoriichi had to admit it—this man's strength far exceeded that of any swordsman or demon he had ever encountered.
They were in completely different dimensions.
"Yoriichi," Zephyr called, casually tossing the bamboo sword back to him. "That last slash—how much power did you put into it?"
Yoriichi caught the sword and answered without hesitation, "All of it."
Then he charged again.
This time, he used no special techniques. No flashy forms. Just raw speed and precise movements, pushing his body to its physical limits. He slashed. Thrust. Swung.
Again and again.
A storm of blows rained down upon Zephyr, each one carefully aimed—not random at all. Through the Transparent World, Yoriichi targeted every perceived weakness in Zephyr's stance. Every slash sought a vital point.
But the moment his strikes fell—
Zephyr's bamboo sword moved with uncanny precision, blocking each and every attack. The weak points Yoriichi had seen? Gone. Defended before he could reach them.
The empty dojo rang with the tap-tap-tap of rapid wooden clashes.
Amid the whirlwind of blows, Zephyr wore a relaxed expression. He even had the time to critique casually:
"Hmm. Not bad at all."
"Your angles are clever—very tricky. In terms of pure swordsmanship, I'd say you're probably better than me."
"But…"
"The flaws are just as clear. You're too weak. Too slow."
"You'll handle small fry just fine. But once you're up against anyone strong…"
"You won't stand a chance."
As he spoke, Zephyr—who had been calmly parrying the entire time—suddenly burst into action. With a fierce swing of his blade, he struck Yoriichi Tsugikuni's bamboo sword dead-on. The sheer force poured into the blow traveled straight through the blade. Yoriichi's wrist jolted; unable to maintain his grip, the bamboo sword was knocked clean from his hands.
The sword spun wildly through the air before slamming into a distant wall. With a loud bang, it smashed right through, leaving a gaping hole.
"…."
Yoriichi turned his head, staring silently at the basin-sized crater in the wall. He was at a loss for words.
Zephyr's comment hadn't gone unheard. In fact, Yoriichi had caught every single word—loud and clear.
He couldn't quite grasp what Zephyr meant by "slow" or "not strong enough." All he knew was that the "small strength" Zephyr casually spoke of was enough to lift a giant tiger's leg with ease. As for "slow," just moments ago, Yoriichi had delivered hundreds of strikes—within the span of a single breath.
Zephyr looked at the dumbfounded Yoriichi with a growing grin. He strolled over, clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, and chuckled heartily.
"Kid, you've got a long road ahead of you."
"Too weak—far too weak."
"In the days to come, you'd better train hard. No slacking off!"
Zephyr burst into booming laughter.
Right then, the dojo doors swung open. A young Navy officer in uniform rushed inside, his expression flustered. Spotting Zephyr, he called out anxiously:
"Instructor Zephyr! What just happened in here?!"
"A bamboo sword came flying out of nowhere and—"
Before he could finish, Zephyr waved him off with a smile.
"Oh, Victor! Don't worry about it."
"Just a little friendly sparring with my student, that's all."
"Come, let me introduce you. This is my disciple—Yoriichi Tsugikuni!"
"Yoriichi, that's Victor. He's the kendo instructor at the Naval Academy."
With a polite nod, Yoriichi greeted Victor.
Victor's expression, however, tightened. His brows furrowed slightly as his gaze shifted to the large hole in the wall.
Zephyr might not have noticed, but that bamboo sword had whizzed right past Victor's face before crashing into a solid boulder outside. The rock had cracked apart—and the sword itself was completely obliterated.
Had it flown just a little lower, Zephyr's little "game" might have killed him.
Even now, Victor was still shaken. Just a bit closer… and his family would be collecting a death benefit!
"Instructor Zephyr! Please—don't just 'play around' like that again..."
Victor muttered under his breath, though his eyes were fixed on Yoriichi standing beside Zephyr.
He didn't know Yoriichi. The story of Garp bringing the boy back was known only to the higher-ups. As a kendo instructor, Victor had no time—and frankly no interest—in internal gossip.
But that flying sword just now? It told him plenty.
Zephyr's strength was something Victor knew all too well. If just playing had resulted in this kind of chaos, then this new disciple… must be someone extraordinary.
"Instructor, is your disciple planning to enroll at the Academy?"
Victor studied Yoriichi a bit more before turning back to Zephyr with his question.
"Enroll? Ah, no need for that—you wouldn't be able to teac—er, I mean, I'll train him myself!"
"He's still too young, too weak. Maybe someday. Hahaha!"
Zephyr gave Yoriichi a hearty pat on the shoulder and laughed.
Victor's cheek twitched when he heard Zephyr say "too weak." Once again, he glanced at the hole in the wall. He could more or less piece together what had happened in the dojo.
Since Zephyr insisted, Victor simply nodded. Seeing that there were no further instructions, he turned and left the dojo.
"Let's go, Yoriichi. Time to test your combat power."
"Once I get a sense of your level, I can draw up a training regimen for you."
With that, Zephyr didn't linger. He led Yoriichi straight out of the dojo.
(End of Chapter)