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"Whoa! Old man, when did you get here?!" Startled by the sudden voice, Zoro flipped up from the ground in a sharp carp jump, landing on his feet.
"Oh? And how do you explain that?" Atlas asked calmly, unsurprised. He had already sensed the old man's presence long before he spoke.
"The three generations of demon blades…" the old man muttered, ignoring Atlas's question. His expression was filled with nostalgia as he fell silent for a long moment.
"Swords… are cleavers meant for cutting men. They exist to take lives. They are true instruments of slaughter!"
The first words out of his mouth were sharp and overwhelming, carrying a ferocious aura that swept over them like a crashing wave.
"Ahh!"
Ignoring Zoro's startled cry, the old man continued, "Every sword has its own personality. A swordsman must be able to tame it in order to make it truly theirs!"
"To call a dangerous sword a 'cursed sword' is foolishness. It should be called a 'famous sword!' What people fear is not the sword itself—but the weakness of mediocre swordsmen!"
After finishing, the old man's gaze fell on the Sandai Kitetsu at Atlas's waist.
"You haven't fully tamed that famous sword. You're merely suppressing it with your willpower alone."
"You must be Mr. Kozaburo, aren't you?" Atlas asked, instantly recognizing the similarity in his words to what Koshiro had once taught him.
At a glance, one wouldn't take him for Koshiro's father. Koshiro had never mentioned their family name—Shimotsuki. Since father and son had both kept that secret, Atlas chose not to reveal it either.
The old man stood before them in a traditional Wano kimono, speaking with eloquence and authority. His thick hair was tied in a topknot, his eyebrows met in the middle, and his stern, abstract face looked nothing like Koshiro's mild and kind features. Instead, he exuded a natural, intimidating presence.
"That's right. How did you know, you Marine brat?" Shimotsuki Kozaburo asked with surprise.
Could someone like him, who had lived in seclusion in an East Blue village for decades, truly have been discovered by Marine intelligence? Was their network that sharp? After all, he had smuggled himself out of Wano over thirty years ago.
"I studied under Mr. Koshiro for a time and was fortunate to hear him mention you," Atlas replied.
"A Marine…" Kozaburo muttered. After a pause, his eyes narrowed. "Kanos Atlas? The exceptionally gifted Marine Koshiro spoke of?"
Years ago, Koshiro had indeed mentioned a Marine with remarkable talent in the way of the sword. Kozaburo had not expected that boy to be standing before him now.
"You are more than just talented," Kozaburo said with a knowing smile. As a master swordsmith who had forged countless blades, his eye for talent had not dulled with age. The aura radiating from Atlas was no less impressive than that of the great warriors of the seas.
"You flatter me," Atlas replied, then turned to the still-confused Zoro. "Now then, let's continue our promise, Zoro."
"Huh? What promise?"
"Join the Marines. Pursue your path as a swordsman. I want to see you at Marine Headquarters one day! I have high hopes for you, so don't let me down. This is a promise between men!"
Zoro looked at Atlas's serious expression. "The Marines…? Doesn't sound too bad," he muttered before nodding firmly.
Clap!
In that solemn moment, the Sandai Kitetsu was formally handed over to Zoro. His first sensation was its biting chill against his hands.
"Are you sure this child can handle the Sandai Kitetsu? If not, giving it to him may bring him harm," Kozaburo warned, dousing the atmosphere with doubt.
"Hah? Are you looking down on me? It's just a cursed sword!" Zoro shot back.
He hadn't listened to Kozaburo's earlier lecture. All he knew was that the blade he held was a cursed weapon most swordsmen couldn't control.
He drew the Sandai Kitetsu, its ominous black patterns shimmering. The edge gleamed so sharply it mirrored his face.
"Then let the sword decide for itself!"
Zoro tossed the blade high into the air with all his strength, then calmly held out his small arm directly in its path.
"Here it comes…" Atlas smirked, prepared for this scene. Kozaburo, meanwhile, simply watched with a strange, unreadable look in his eyes.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The sword spun rapidly, its edge whistling as it cut through the air. Time seemed to crawl, until—
Clang!
The Kitetsu landed, and Zoro's arm remained untouched.
"Not bad," Atlas said with satisfaction, though not surprise. "That kind of spirit…"
Kozaburo, however, was stunned. For a seven-year-old child to display such resolve—was it courage, or ignorance? He sighed inwardly. I'm getting old…
According to the timeline, Kozaburo would likely pass away around the year 1510. That meant he had, at most, only two or three years left.
"Still, it seems you don't have a proper weapon of your own," Kozaburo noted, his eyes showing a rare trace of hesitation and reluctance.
"It's fine. If fate wills it, my weapon will come to me soon," Atlas replied mysteriously. Inwardly, he added, And it just happens to be one of Wano's national treasures.
He wasn't lying. By his memory, Moria would leave the Florian Triangle with Thriller Bark in about two years. Whether Moria was still mining in Wano or had already escaped, Atlas wasn't certain.
"I do have a sword that might suit you," Kozaburo finally said, unaware that Atlas was already planning to seize one of Wano's national treasures. If he had known, perhaps he would have regretted making such an offer.
"A cursed sword?" Atlas asked knowingly. He was well aware of the old man's skill. The Wado Ichimonji and even Oden's Enma—both counted among the 21 Great Grade Swords—had come from Kozaburo's forge!
"No, not a cursed sword." Kozaburo shook his head, nostalgia flickering in his eyes.
When you grow old, you become sentimental… "In my youth, I forged a blade I once believed to be the pinnacle of my life's work."
"A truly earnest sword! Just holding it, you could feel a deep, chilling presence. That famous blade… was Enma!"
"But later, I forged another sword. A blade not known to the world, and strictly speaking, it wasn't created by me alone…"
Enma—the name of the King of Hell. A blade said to cut through even hell itself, it was one of Oden's two swords.
The great scar carved into Kaido's chest was left by Enma and Ame no Habakiri. Enma could forcibly draw out its wielder's Armament Haki and amplify it to terrifying levels.
This was why, though both Enma and Wado Ichimonji were Great Grade Swords, Kozaburo considered Enma—not Wado Ichimonji—his true masterpiece.
But Atlas was more intrigued by the mysterious sword Kozaburo claimed was not forged by him alone.
"Our family is one of swordsmiths. Forging a famous blade is our life's pursuit."
"My father spent his entire life striving to forge the ultimate weapon, one of the Supreme Grade Swords. He never succeeded… not until the very end. Or perhaps, in a way, you could say he did."
Kozaburo's voice grew heavy with emotion as he spoke. Then, as if from thin air, he produced a sword from behind his back.
Atlas's eyes widened in awe. The weapon was massive—2.47 meters in length.
The scabbard was carved with black-and-red lightning motifs, and the handguard shaped like a ferocious, gaping maw, radiating an overwhelming presence.
"This blade was forged by my father and completed by my own hands. It has never been revealed to another soul. Its name…" Kozaburo slowly unsheathed it.
The moment steel met air, a sharp, cold brilliance lit the space. A crushing spiritual pressure swept down upon them.
Atlas stood firm, but Zoro—just a seven-year-old boy—struggled under its weight.
Atlas narrowed his eyes, waiting.
"Its name… is Futsunomitama! One of the Twelve Supreme Grade Swords!"
Kozaburo ran his hand along the blade with reverence, his face shifting between reluctance, pride, and bittersweet nostalgia.
"Whoa~" Zoro gasped. He didn't fully understand the meaning of a Supreme Grade Sword, but his awe was undeniable.
Shing!
The sword was drawn completely, its full glory revealed. A long, single-edged, straight blade, reminiscent of a tachi.
It was only 4.2 cm wide at the base and tapered to about 2.8 cm near the tip. Sparks of electricity danced along its edge.
To Atlas, it felt like both a weapon of demons and a relic of gods.
"A heavenly sword that can slay beasts, tear away concealment, and shake the spirit itself."
"It is known as the Sword of the Thunder God—the Blade of the God Slayer! Only one with an indomitable spirit can tame it!"
As the Supreme Grade Sword bared its fangs for the first time, Kozaburo introduced it with solemnity.
"It's a pity you are a Marine. You lack the disposition to—"
FWOOSH!
An overwhelming will surged from Atlas. He didn't unleash it upon them, but directed it upward, into the heavens themselves.
"Were you talking about Conqueror's Haki?" Atlas grinned like a boy showing off a treasured secret.
"I never thought… There would be such a man among the Marines!" Kozaburo's eyes widened in disbelief, then softened.
He no longer doubted that Atlas was the right master for Futsunomitama.
"Since you possess such a spirit, then you must know of the technique of Haki infusion, used only by the strongest." He raised the blade, arcs of electricity sparking across its length.
"This sword possesses a will of its own. I do not know what my father forged into it. Some say it carries remnants from Ryuma, the Dragon Slayer, though perhaps it is only legend."
"Yet this much is certain—it is bound to Conqueror's Haki Infusion. I never mastered it myself. You will have to discover its secrets on your own."
By now, Kozaburo had essentially revealed his Wano heritage, but he didn't care.
Atlas, as a Marine Vice Admiral, had likely already guessed. They simply chose not to speak it aloud.
"Now, I entrust Futsunomitama to you. Do not tarnish its name!" Kozaburo said firmly, sheathing the blade and handing it over.
"Futsunomitama… I swear, I will make you a blade that strikes fear into every pirate in the seas!" Atlas grinned, strapping the sword to his waist.
Standing 2.8 meters tall, the weapon's length fit him perfectly. Worn at his side, it only amplified his domineering aura.
"Good… let this old man enjoy the sea breeze in peace." Kozaburo exhaled, settling onto a large rock overlooking the ocean.
"Come on, Zoro." Atlas lifted the boy onto his broad shoulders and started toward the Isshin Dojo.
If he let Zoro walk, the kid would just get lost. Searching for him would be more trouble than it was worth.
"Hey?! You bastard, put me down!" Zoro flailed, blushing at being carried like a child.
"Where are we going?" he muttered at last, giving up his struggles when escape proved futile.
Atlas chuckled. "To a place where you will learn the way of the sword."
He had considered taking Zoro straight to the Marines, but Koshiro was the best choice for laying the foundation of his swordsmanship.
And without Kuina, would Zoro still find the resolve to become the world's strongest swordsman? Atlas wasn't sure.
Better to let him grow at the Isshin Dojo for now. He would return before fate claimed Kuina.
Atlas and Zoro vanished into the forest, the dojo drawing nearer with each step.
"I have no regrets…" Kozaburo whispered to the sea.
All he had wished for in his final years was to find a worthy master for this blade, the product of two generations of the Shimotsuki clan.
If none appeared, he would have rather taken it to the grave.
Perhaps that was why Futsunomitama had never appeared in the original story—it had been waiting for its true master all along.
After all, a sword of legend could never fall into the hands of an ordinary man.
(T/N: Please give me some power stone, I hope it can at least reach the top 100)
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