The smell of roasted pork filled the courtyard, mingling with the breeze and the sound of satisfied chewing.
Kuma, all eight meters of fluffy menace, was gnawing through half a boar like it owed him money.
Kuina ate more politely, legs crossed, slow and composed as always.
And Zoro?
Zoro was in heaven—meat in one hand, rice in the other, a gleam in his eye that only dreams and protein could bring.
Jin raised his cup and took a sip of his homemade sake, letting the burn settle before speaking.
"Oi, kid," he said, watching Zoro's eyes flick toward the bottle. "You've been staring for a while."
Zoro froze mid-bite. Then, with a sheepish grin, he said, "Can I… have a drink too? Just one? I just wanna know what it tastes like."
Jin arched a brow.
A flash of memory stirred—the grown-up version of this green-haired brat, chugging barrels of booze like water, never slurring a single word.
A fucking alcohol tank.
And it started now, apparently.
"Just one," Jin muttered. He poured a modest amount into a smaller cup and slid it across the table. "You're still a brat. Swordsmanship's about clarity. Alcohol clouds that. Remember that."
Zoro beamed like he'd just been handed the One Piece itself.
He sipped. His face scrunched. Then lit up.
"Bitter… but good."
Kuma let out a massive burp.
"I'm still the strongest beast on this island," he announced proudly, licking fat from his claws.
Jin rolled his eyes. "I meant other than you, furball."
Kuma blinked. "Oh. Nah. Wiped 'em all out. Just me now. Like you ordered, remember?"
Jin facepalmed.
"…Shit. I forgot."
He looked at Kuma, then at Kuina—who was very clearly trying not to laugh.
"Dumbass," she said, lips twitching. "Gave the order yourself, and now you're surprised. Figures."
Zoro snorted mid-chew. "He really is kinda dumb."
"…You're both banned from lunch."
Kuina broke into open laughter for the first time that day, which made Jin almost forget to be annoyed.
Almost.
After sending Zoro and Kuina back to the dojo, Jin called for Kuma.
"Come on. Show me those rare herbs you found while pretending to be a forest overlord."
Kuma led the way, humming happily.
Jin sat cross-legged atop the bear's massive back as they moved deeper into the mountains. The air grew thick with pine and moss. Birds scattered at Kuma's footsteps.
Jin's thoughts drifted as the trees blurred by.
The weighted vests are getting too light…
His body had grown stronger—methodically, not rushed. Every morning, he cycled his Ki through his system, slowly refining every cell, every tendon. It wasn't flashy, but it was precise.
This wasn't some nonsense where you blew up your organs to level up. He didn't plan on becoming a meathead with a death clock.
Balance. Depth. Durability. That was his path.
His muscles didn't just flex—they breathed power.
"I'm not ready to fight an Admiral," Jin murmured. "But I can walk away from one if I had to."
He thought of Kuina—her core foundation now stabilized, her potential vast. Thought of Makino—gentle and kind, hopefully sticking to his standing-stake routine to increase her longevity.
And Zoro.
That stubborn son of a bitch.
Jin grinned.
I like that kid. Let's make sure he's equipped.
"Boss, we're here."
Kuma stopped beside a craggy ridge. At the base was a rough clearing with earthy patches covered in moss and the scent of old roots.
Jin leapt down and inspected the site.
"Hmm. Decent spread."
He squatted, gloved hands brushing aside leaves to uncover clusters of herbs—dark green leaves with faint blue veins, and root stalks that shimmered faintly under the sun.
Medicinal-grade.
His old instincts kicked in. Root preservation, drying methods, potency indexing—it all came back.
"We'll bag these, dry half, stew the rest. Should help with blood production and internal organ strain."
They worked for hours.
By the end of the day, Jin's satchel was filled, and Kuma carried bundles on his back.
Two days later…
"Oi, Kuma. Where's that iron block you mentioned?"
"Right there," the bear said, pointing a claw at a small rocky dip ahead.
Jin blinked.
A pit?
He leapt into it.
There it was—three and a half meters across, jet black, slightly rounded.
Jin knelt beside it and ran his palm across the metal. Smooth. Cold. Dense as hell.
He unhooked the blade at his waist—Kurohebi, his forged black-patterned knife—and gave the ore a test strike.
CLANG!
Two-force slash. Should've cleaved halfway through a standard steel plate.
The metal barely got a scratch.
"…Huh."
He adjusted his stance and slashed again—six-force this time, controlled and precise.
BAM!
A small, inch-deep groove appeared.
Jin stared.
Then grinned.
"Now this is a find."
No refinement, no forging, no treatment—and it was already tougher than military-grade alloy.
With proper tempering?
This stuff would be a monster.
He gripped the groove and traced it with his thumb.
My blade… it might just be possible now.
Jin looked up, heart hammering not from battle—but from excitement.
In this world of monsters, devils, and emperors—he'd need a weapon worthy of carving out a legend.
And now, he had the material.
The only thing left?
Forge it.
With fire.
With focus.
And with his own two hands. This story is inspired from various fanfics i have read from around the world so if you find any similarities please dont mind . Thank you
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T/N :
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