The clang of metal on metal echoed from the back of the Windmill Village tavern, where a small forge had been built from scratch just a week ago. The scent of hot iron and oil now lingered permanently in the air, along with the faint trace of blood and sweat.
Inside, Jin stood shirtless, skin slick with sweat, arms straining as he hammered a glowing black chunk of metal with relentless rhythm. Sparks flew. Another strike. And another.
Clang!
The blade in his hand hissed as it met cold water. Jin pulled it out, eyes narrowing. The edge shimmered faintly under the forge light—clean, straight… but dull in spirit.
"Shit," he muttered, flicking the short blade across the room. It clattered into a pile of similarly discarded weapons with a metallic groan. A small graveyard of his failures.
"No fucking soul in this one either."
He flexed his arms, muscles trembling slightly from hours of work. His breath steamed in the cool night air as he sat back, muttering to himself, "This alloy's tough as hell… too fucking tough. Stupid thing eats Ki like candy. Even tempered, it's no better than the grade of Wado Ichimonji."
He scowled. That wasn't nearly good enough.
Jin's gaze drifted toward the dying coals, fingers twitching unconsciously.
"The hardness is there. But the edge doesn't sing. There's no resonance, no harmony. Like it's… resisting me." He leaned back in the stool, voice low and sharp. "Maybe the quenching's off… or maybe—"
His thoughts halted as Kuina entered, brushing dust off her hakama. Sweat dotted her forehead. Her training must have just ended.
"No more hammering?" she asked, eyeing the silence as she stepped into the forge.
Jin didn't look at her. "Another dud."
She wandered over to the blade he'd just thrown, picking it up with a graceful flick. Her fingers traced the runes etched onto the spine. The weight, the balance—it was a masterpiece by any standard.
"Hell, this one could rival Wado Ichimonji. You're seriously tossing it into the trash heap?"
Jin glanced sideways. "Of course. My blade's not meant to rival. It's meant to surpass."
Kuina blinked, a little stunned. "Tch. Perfectionist bastard."
"It's not about perfection," he replied flatly. "It's about soul. If it doesn't carry my sword path, my blade way, it's worthless."
She smirked, flipping the blade once in her hand. "So? What about the pile behind you? What are you gonna do with them?"
"Sell them," Jin said immediately. "Even failures have value. I'll have Kuma haul them to Loguetown. Should fetch a few dozen million beli easy."
Kuina scoffed. "Fucking merchant king now, are you?"
Jin shrugged. "Says the Blue-Haired Witch who made her first bounty by stabbing a mountain bandit in the dick."
"Asshole," she muttered under her breath—but she was smiling.
She squinted at the blade's engraved characters. "You even named this one? Seriously?"
"Don't you have some standing meditation to get back to?" Jin shot back, already turning away and grabbing a hammer again.
"Yeah yeah. But my sword's counting on you, you know." She smirked over her shoulder as she walked out. "Don't fuck it up."
When she was gone, Jin fell silent.
His hand lingered on the edge of the workbench. His mind drifted back—not to Kuina, but to something older. Deeper. From his past life.
"There's still one thing I haven't tried…"
His eyes narrowed, dangerous.
"In the old world, we quenched steel with blood—the blood of beasts. Or worse. They called it 'Spirit Tempering.' Maybe there's something to it… Something primal."
Jin scratched his jaw. "This world's got monsters. Ki-heavy ones. Some of them practically radiate with soul energy. If I can get my hands on one with enough spiritual presence…"
He stood.
"I'll have Kuma track one down tonight. Something intelligent. Something fierce."
Then he glanced down at himself.
"Fuck, I stink."
Fifteen minutes later, he was neck-deep in steaming water, leaning back in the oversized barrel tub Makino had left for him behind the tavern.
"Ahhhh… Now this is civilization," he groaned, sinking further into the hot water. "Goddamn, I missed baths."
His voice echoed lightly across the walls. He tilted his head back, letting the steam melt the tension from his spine.
"Red-Hair's closing in. I can feel it," he muttered. "And Luffy's about to eat the damn fruit."
He smirked to himself. "The next few months are going to be interesting. This little backwater sea's about to boil over."
A long exhale escaped his lungs.
"Kuina's progressing well. Her stance is stable. Ki flow's clean. She's still a brat, but she listens… more or less."
His voice softened.
"My own inner damage is nearly healed. All those dark injuries from overtraining back in my old world... the ones I never dared check with Ki sense. Now they're clearing out."
He cracked a grin.
"Guess dying young wasn't all bad. If I'd waited until adulthood to break through to Hard Force, I'd be a corpse by now."
He leaned back, letting the water lap over his collarbone.
"Makino… she's doing fine. Gentle as ever. Just wants to cook, take care of people. I'll keep her out of this blood-stained path."
He paused.
"And Kuma… poor bastard still thinks he's my little brother. Maybe I'll forge him a weighted vest or something. Build that frame up. Dumb bear's got potential."
He reached for the bottle of sake beside the tub, took a long sip, then grunted.
"Fuck. That hits good."
The moonlight filtered through the slatted window. Jin closed his eyes. For a moment, there was peace.
But only for a moment.
Because in his gut, he knew—The real storm was coming
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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