Great Grade—one of the Twenty-One… Seijū?
White-Clad Drunkard stared at the system prompt, stunned. The live chat froze for a heartbeat too.
From Zoro's offhand lore-dumps in Little Fisher's stream, everyone already knew the blade rankings of this sea:
From bottom to top—ordinary Grade swords, then the Skillful Grade Fifty.
Above that stood the Great Grade Twenty-One, and at the pinnacle, the Supreme Grade Twelve.
And the sword in his hand—Seijū (Clear Sake)—was actually one of the Great Grade Twenty-One?!
In an instant, his chat exploded.
[What kind of busted luck is this, old thief?!]
[He really pulled a Great Grade from a Purple-Gold chest?!]
[Even our Sergeant Tashigi only carries a normal Grade blade—not even a Skillful Grade—and this clown opens a Great Grade?]
[No way the drop rate is that high…]
[Didn't Zoro say his Wado Ichimonji has a whole story behind it? Great blades don't just fall from the sky…]
[I'm so salty right now.]
Drunkard only grew more delighted. He gripped the snowy-white blade and beamed.
"Brothers, sisters—Seijū even comes with a special perk: the flying slash carries a light frost effect."
He twirled it, pleased with the mirror-white hue.
"C'mon, tell me this isn't destiny—Clear Sake in the hand of the White-Clad Drunkard… it just fits."
The more he talked, the greener the barrage became.
[Please. Stop. Talking.]
[Show-off! When I get in-game I'm rallying a posse to 'liberate' that sword.]
[Hissss… this guy.]
Drunkard ignored the rage and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"Word is, Sergeant Tashigiloves famous blades. Let's… show it to her. Heh-heh… heh-heh-heh…"
[It's over. She's done for. With her personality, she'll melt on the spot.]
[RIP, Tashigi. There goes her composure.]
Sword in hand, he left the barracks. On the parade ground, the training had just wrapped up—Tashigi was heading over.
"Sergeant Tashigi!"
She searched around, finally pinpointed the voice, and walked over—about to ask what he wanted—then went rigid.
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, eyes widening.
"This… th-this is…!"
"Could this be the Great Grade—Seijū?!"
She closed the distance in three brisk steps; the chat took a collective headshot of sweetness.
Drunkard smiled and offered the blade under her nose. "I heard you're fond of famous swords. Want to help appraise it?"
Face flushing in front of the blade, Tashigi fumbled out a pair of gloves from who-knows-where, then carefully received Seijū.
She adjusted her glasses again, tracing the fuller, the temper line, the steel's sheen—down to the last detail.
Her expression kept rising, cheeks reddening, breathing turning just a bit unsteady.
[Uh… why does she look like that just from looking at a sword?]
[Don't be weird, she's just really into blades.]
[First time seeing someone this devoted, not gonna lie.]
When she finally finished, Tashigi returned the long blade with both hands, face solemn.
"White-Clad Drunkard, where did you obtain Seijū?"
He thought for a beat, then smiled lightly. "Family heirloom. I've… never had the heart to bring it out."
Tashigi took a deep breath, meeting his gaze with heartfelt seriousness.
"Please treat it well. I'm begging you."
She bowed.
Drunkard froze—so did the chat. The teasing vanished, replaced by a warm, unexpected hush.
[She really means it. That respect—for swords, for swordsmanship—it's from the heart.]
[Same. Got goosebumps.]
[Sergeant Tashigi is kind of amazing.]
Drunkard recovered, gently helping her straighten up.
"Sergeant Tashigi… would you use Seijū to instruct me a little more?"
His swordsmanship had only just stepped through the gate. There was a long road ahead.
And with the chat already plotting "heists" once open beta dropped, he needed strength—fast.
Devil Fruits bonded when eaten. Swords didn't. Without power, a famous blade was just a target on his back.
Tashigi blinked, flustered anew as the snowy blade was offered forward.
"C-can I?"
Drunkard chuckled and placed Seijū in her hands. She accepted it with both palms, still half in disbelief.
Most days she could barely see a Skillful Grade, let alone a Great Grade. And now… her subordinate had brought one to her?
Her heart thumped. She handed her Shigure to Drunkard, then slowly drew the white blade.
Just holding Seijū, she felt stronger—an illusion, perhaps, but an intoxicating one.
"After the basics," she said, settling into stance, "comes polish—learning to feel every ounce of force through each cut."
With the "bribe" of a famous blade—if only on loan—Tashigi forgot all about rest and launched right into a private lesson.
Elsewhere, after half a day at sea, the Red Force drew up to the next island.
Its name: Orange Town.
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