Chapter 25
The weapon district smelled of steel and oil, with the clang of hammers echoing from hidden smithies. Silas pointed to a shop with blades gleaming behind reinforced glass.
"That one."
Ipponmatsu Arms looked like it could outfit a small army. East Blue steel, Grand Line flair. Zoro adjusted the borrowed swords with a scowl.
"These junkers are screwing up my whole style."
The bell chimed as they entered. Inside was a swordsman's dream—hundreds of blades, each polished to perfection. The air practically hummed.
"Welcome!" called the shopkeeper—middle-aged, kind eyes, hands like leather. A man who'd lived around weapons.
Then he saw Wado Ichimonji.
"Is that…" His voice dropped. "May I… see that white katana?"
Zoro shrugged, laid it on the counter. Moonlight made steel.
Ipponmatsu leaned in, and his friendly mask slipped. Greed flickered.
"Hm. Just a plain white katana. Nice work, but nothing special. Maybe worth… a few thousand berries?"
Silas narrowed his eyes. He smelled the lie.
Zoro didn't bother with subtlety.
One second Ipponmatsu was behind the counter. The next, Zoro had him by the collar, feet dangling.
"What did you just say?"
"Huh?!"
"I SAID WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!"
"I lied! I lied!" Ipponmatsu squeaked. "Buy low, sell high! Please don't kill me!"
"So what's it really worth?"
"Six hundred thousand berries! Maybe more! It's a masterwork! I'll buy it—cash!"
"Not for sale." Zoro released him, sheathed Wado Ichimonji. "This blade isn't for sale at any price."
Ipponmatsu straightened his clothes, relieved to still have a pulse.
"I understand. A swordsman's bond is sacred…" His gaze drifted to a case in the back.
A single katana rested on red velvet. Black lacquer scabbard. The air around it felt heavier.
Silas felt his neck hairs rise.
"There is one blade that might interest you," Ipponmatsu said. "But…"
Zoro was already walking toward it.
"This one?"
"Sandai Kitetsu," he said. "One of the fifty Skillful Grade swords. But it's cursed."
Zoro's eyes lit up.
"Cursed? That just makes it interesting."
"NO!" Ipponmatsu threw himself between Zoro and the case. "Every owner died violently! I've had it three years and never touched it! The air feels wrong!"
Zoro opened the case anyway, lifting the blade like it might explode. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, something shifted. The sword hummed.
"Fine sword," he said, testing the weight. "Sharp. Balanced. Got personality."
"Put it back! That sword will be the death of you!"
Zoro grinned—the kind that meant he was about to do something insane.
"Let's test that theory."
He drew Sandai Kitetsu, examined the edge.
"Tell me, shopkeeper—do you believe in luck?"
"L-luck?"
"I'm going to test whether this sword's curse is stronger than my luck."
And then he tossed it into the air.
---
The blade spun toward the ceiling. Ipponmatsu screamed and dove behind the counter. Even Silas stepped back, hand on his weapon.
This lunatic is really doing it.
Zoro stood still, arm extended. The cursed sword spun above him, edge flashing, gravity pulling it down.
For a moment, the only sound was steel slicing air.
Sandai Kitetsu descended like a guillotine—aimed straight at Zoro's arm.
Then, at the last instant, it veered. Or hesitated. Or maybe the light shifted.
THUNK.
The blade embedded in the floor. Zoro's arm remained untouched.
Silence.
"Well," Zoro said, casual as ever, "looks like my luck wins."
Ipponmatsu peeked out, pale as a ghost.
"In all my years… how did you…?"
"Guess the sword decided I'm worthy." Zoro pulled it free, gave it a swing. The blade moved like lightning. "I'll take it."
"You want to own that thing?"
"Why not? It chose not to kill me, didn't it?"
---
Then Ipponmatsu's gaze landed on Silas.
His face drained of color.
"That… that sabre…" His finger trembled, pointing at Blood Fang. "Where did you get that?"
"Family heirloom," Silas said. "Why?"
"Do you know what that is?!"
"A sabre. Good one."
"That's one of the War Demons!" Ipponmatsu looked ready to faint. "I can feel it—the bloodlust! If Kitetsu is dangerous…"
He shook his head.
"Kitetsu's curse is blind. It wants blood, any blood. But the War Demons… they're intelligent. They choose their wielders. Corrupt them. Make them crave battle until nothing else matters. A blade like that doesn't just kill—it devours the soul."
Zoro's eyes snapped to Blood Fang, hungry.
"Stronger than Kitetsu?"
"Don't even think about it, moss-head," Silas warned, hand on his hilt.
"Come on. You scared?"
"Tomorrow," Silas said. "I'll fight you tomorrow."