The afternoon sun beat down on the training grounds of Marineford, the heat turning the stone tiles warm underfoot. Most of the surrounding trees had already been sliced in half during past sparring sessions, their stumps lined up like silent witnesses.
Kuzan took one look around and sighed dramatically.
"Oi, Gion. You really turned this place into a firewood factory, huh? How'm I supposed to practice when you've chopped every tree in the area?"
Gion didn't even look at him. She simply adjusted the sword at her hip, calm and elegant as always, letting his complaint float into the air unanswered.
Before Kuzan could complain again, footsteps echoed across the field.
Zephyr approached—his towering figure in full Marine uniform—and beside him walked an older man in traditional samurai robes, carrying two swords at his waist. Boa slithered right behind them, moving lazily but still casting an intimidating shadow across the ground.
Zephyr's voice carried authority without effort.
"This is Shimotsuki Koshiro. From today onward, he will oversee your sword training."
Kuzan and Gion immediately bowed in respect.
"Thank you for teaching us, Instructor Koshiro."
Koshiro nodded, measuring them with calm eyes—eyes that missed nothing.
"I will first observe your fundamentals," he said. "Show me how you approach a real opponent. You—Kuzan. Draw your blade against Zephyr."
Kuzan blinked. "…Eh? Against the instructor? That's not even fair."
"Life isn't fair," Zephyr replied flatly. "Draw."
Koshiro tossed one of his swords to Kuzan. He barely caught it before fumbling into a stance—then paused.
He knew only one real sword technique.
So, without hesitation, he sheathed the blade again.
Koshiro raised an eyebrow. "You… just sheathed the sword I gave you."
Kuzan cleared his throat. "It'll make sense in a second."
Shing—
He vanished.
A single step, a single flash—Kuzan's signature iai-slice tore toward Zephyr like a white arc of light.
CLANG!
Zephyr met it with his forearm—coated in Armament Haki as hard as iron—blocking it cleanly. And before Kuzan could even re-sheathe—
BOOM.
Zephyr's fist smashed into Kuzan's chest, launching him across the field like a cannonball.
He plowed through a row of already half-cut trees, shattering them into splinters before skidding to a stop in a heap of dust.
Kuzan groaned, sitting up and rubbing his shoulder.
"Okay… okay… that's fair. Maybe."
He stood, tossed the sword back to Koshiro, and shrugged.
"Yeah, that's all I've got for now. Just the one move."
Koshiro stared at him for a long moment, then spoke softly:
"To master a single technique to that level… that is already the mark of a swordsman. But you lack a foundation. If I teach you proper groundwork, that strike of yours will evolve into something far sharper."
Kuzan grinned. "So you will teach me, then?"
"I will teach you the basics you never received. What you already created is not wrong—only unrefined."
Kuzan bowed, sincere for once. "Thank you, Instructor."
Next, it was Gion's turn.
She stepped forward without hesitation, blade already drawn.
Shaaa—
Three slashes burst outward in a single breath, sharp and clean as falling moonlight. Zephyr blocked each one, but his expression changed—just slightly.
Gion didn't stop.
"One-Sword Style — Horizon Splitter!"
A golden slash tore the ground open as it raced toward Zephyr.
He dropped into a stance, one leg forward, arm hardened with Haki.
BOOM.
The shockwave rattled the field, sending dust spiraling into the sky. Even Boa lifted its head in interest, tongue flicking.
She wasn't done.
"One-Sword Style — Kana Shigure!"
Her blade drew a crescent arc—silent, graceful, and fast enough to blur.
Zephyr moved again, the air around his fist compressing with force. The clash detonated in midair, gouging a crater into the stone floor and blasting away what little remained of the nearby trees.
Koshiro smiled—actually smiled.
"Excellent form. Sharp intuition. You have already stepped into the realm of true swordsmanship."
Gion stood there panting, but her eyes were bright. Being acknowledged by a real master meant something.
Then Zephyr… ended the duel.
He stepped forward and struck her twice—just two clean armored blows—and she went flying, rolling across the ground before skidding to a stop.
She groaned but forced herself back up, limping toward Kuzan.
Koshiro spoke calmly:
"What you lack now is not swordsmanship—but battlefield experience. To become a great swordsman, you must fight opponents who can kill you. Raw sword talent alone is never enough."
He pointed at Boa.
"Train with that creature. Its instincts and force will sharpen your Haki faster than drills ever could."
Gion nodded. "Yes, instructor."
Koshiro turned back to Kuzan.
"You, however, will start over from step one."
Kuzan blinked. "…Step one?"
Koshiro didn't answer. He simply positioned Kuzan's grip, stance, and posture like he was correcting a first-year student.
Kuzan swallowed pride and followed—because he knew Koshiro was right.
As the sun set, the sound of steel cutting air echoed through the training ground—slow, basic, repetitive.
One student with overwhelming talent is learning humility.
One student with pure discipline is sharpening herself to survive.
And one giant python was watching like a bored guardian spirit.
The future Admiral and the future Vice Admiral… both starting over from zero.
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