Ren always planned his actions before moving.
Most of the time, he was the type who simply went with the flow.
However—
When it came to Bonney, he realized he had underestimated the meaning of her title, Big Eater.
That wasn't a personal nickname—it was the sort of epithet officially printed on a bounty poster, the kind that defined a pirate's reputation.
Which meant…
Ren had, quite literally, bitten off more than he could chew.
Zoro could devour a slab of meat several times his own size, but Bonney's appetite outstripped even Zoro's—by fivefold!
The feast went on for more than two hours.
By the time Bonney was finally seventy percent full, Nojiko was utterly exhausted from cooking, and Bonney's belly looked as round as a drum.
"I told you, Captain Ren, I can eat. Don't go back on your word now."
Her shoulder was still wrapped in thick bandages, but the sword wounds hadn't slowed her appetite in the slightest.
Bonney propped one foot arrogantly on the table, tilting her chin in a challenging manner. "Even if you regret it now, it's too late."
"Worse than a pig," Ren commented bluntly, his eyes drifting toward the foot resting on the table. "But if you don't want trouble, maybe take your foot off the dining table. It's rude."
"Hah? Who are you to tell me what to do?"
Bonney sneered—but then froze when Ren spoke again.
"Good. Then let's calculate your debt—six hundred seventy million Beli. Debts must be repaid, right? If you can't pay it back, I'll have to consider our deal… void."
"Tch. I've always been like this," she muttered resentfully as she pulled her foot back. "Eating's one of life's greatest joys. What's the point of being so uptight about rules?"
"On my ship, rules are necessary," Ren said calmly as he stood up and headed below deck.
Meanwhile, Nami and Nojiko restrained Bonney—who had tried to sneak off—and made her wash dishes and scrub pots.
Yes, after realizing how much she ate, Ren had promptly assigned her extra chores as "compensation."
And since Bonney was at a disadvantage, she could only obey.
Ren, meanwhile, descended to the lower deck's training hall. Removing his shirt to reveal a muscular chest, he donned tight training pants and stepped into the arena.
"Still an hour today?"
Zoro sat cross-legged on the steel-coated floor, his eyes snapping open as he drew his three swords.
"Yeah," Ren replied, stepping forward. "Thoughts and theories are nothing unless you turn them into real progress in battle."
The floor beneath them was scarred with countless slash marks—remnants of their previous sparring sessions.
From the East Blue to now, they had spent every spare afternoon and evening testing each other's blades, sharpening both skill and instinct through hundreds of duels.
Today was no different.
The deeper Ren delved into swordsmanship, the more he realized his own shallowness.
That night battle beneath the stars—he'd seemed to wield several forms of Thunder Breathing Sword Style.
But in truth, those were merely forms—shapes without spirit.
To borrow a painter's analogy, he'd only reached the level of sketching the skin, far from the bones or the soul.
Even with his innate Sword Heart, he had merely mimicked what he'd seen.
He had no "bones," no true essence of the sword.
Recognizing this flaw early, he had since poured more and more time into sword training.
Bit by bit, with the Sword Heart's aid, he built up his foundation—until, during his recent fight with Bonney, he finally touched upon the level of "drawing the bones."
"Let's begin."
Zoro said nothing more.
He drew Sandai Kitetsu, Yubashiri, and Wado Ichimonji, forming his Three-Sword Style stance.
Ren drew his Cursed Blade, golden lines spiraling up his fingers as his Qi surged into the weapon, reuniting its fragmented edges into one.
He didn't enter his fusion state—this was a spar, not a death match.
With no intent to kill, going all out was meaningless.
In fact—
Facing Zoro in a weakened state often accelerated his growth.
Thump—thump!
The floor shook as both stepped forward almost simultaneously.
Zoro lunged first.
Ren moved a split-second later, channeling all his strength into one leg before bursting forward.
A piercing whistle tore through the air—then a jagged blue flash split the room!
First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!
Clang—!
Electric arcs exploded across Zoro's twin blades, the collision blasting out a wave of white air pressure.
The steel floor groaned as if on the verge of collapse.
Shing!
A gleaming arc cut through the air—Zoro's Wado Ichimonji left a shallow slash across Ren's chest.
Then, twisting with brute force, he knocked the cursed blade aside, crossing his arms as he reversed his grip on both swords.
Two-Sword Style: Ushi Bari (Bull Needle)!
Two dozen piercing streaks of steel shot out like a storm of needles—but were instantly shattered by five exploding bolts of blue lightning.
Second Form: Rice Soul!
Ren's sword split through the Ushi Bari, his foot striking the floor as he transformed into a zigzagging trail of lightning.
Weaving through Zoro's next slashes, the thunder roared louder.
Third Form: Gathering Thunder!
Blue lightning wrapped around his blade, fanning out into a web that surrounded Zoro, each arc weaving like a storm-born serpent.
Zoro's pupils shrank. He could sense that every one of Ren's strikes carried more power than the last.
Each swing vicious, but somehow conserving energy for the next—stacking momentum like an endless surge of waves.
Is this… the strike that defeated Bonney?
Before Zoro could react, Ren caught the faint twitch of his muscles. His sword twisted, gathering the lightning arcs inward into a single pulsing thunder mark.
Blue light flickered—tree-shaped veins of lightning burst outward.
Zoro's body went numb, his reflexes stalling for an instant as electricity crawled across his skin.
Then—
A thunderous roar erupted!
Blue lightning surged down Ren's cursed blade as he brought it down in a blazing arc.
A bolt of thunder shot from the blade, slamming against Wado Ichimonji.
Zoro barely tilted his neck aside, deflecting the lightning-charged slash.
The explosion threw him back ten meters, his entire body twitching from the shock.
Ren strode through the fading lightning, pressing the attack.
Zoro flipped up, meeting him head-on. Three swords clashed against one as the arena filled with deafening crashes for nearly an hour before both finally collapsed in exhaustion.
When the dust settled, Ren lay spread-eagled on the floor, panting heavily like a dying dog.
Zoro wasn't far away, equally battered.
At equal strength, such high-intensity duels drained stamina faster than any real battle.
Even without mortal danger, the tension, the rapid calculations, the split-second decisions—
All that, combined with the constant strain on their muscles, devoured their energy.
Of course—
Neither had truly reached their limit. It was just that sparring wasn't the same as fighting to the death; they both knew when to stop.
After a long silence, Zoro sat up cross-legged again.
"You've improved," he admitted. "Give it a little more time and you'll probably master the basic forms completely. Once you grasp the essence of swordsmanship, that 'blade aura' you talk about won't be far off."
Ren's breathing technique restored his stamina quickly. He smiled. "Yeah? That's good to hear."
What they called blade aura wasn't about flying slashes—it was a deeper level of swordsmanship Ren believed in.
For instance—
Zoro's Wado Ichimonji was eighty-eight centimeters long, yet he could slice through a wooden house in a single swing, horizontally or vertically.
But how could a blade less than a meter long cleave through something twenty meters wide?
The answer was blade aura—or sword energy.
A kind of compressed air slash born when one's physical stats and sword mastery reached a certain threshold.
In simpler terms—
It meant using immense strength and precision to compress air during a swing, then integrating that compressed air into the slash itself—
Extending its reach beyond the blade.
Zoro had shown it many times: standing still, swinging dozens of times, shattering a massive boulder into countless fragments.
That was blade aura.
"I think you'll reach it soon," Zoro said, his tone uncharacteristically admiring. "You're improving faster than I expected. Gaining swordsmanship talent through a Devil Fruit… that's totally cheating."
"Hahaha! Well, I am me. If I weren't special, how could I be your captain?"
Ren laughed heartily, sitting cross-legged once more, eyes filled with eager anticipation.
"I wonder when I'll become one of those great swordsmen who can launch flying slashes with a flick of the wrist."
"That's still a long way off," Zoro replied, shaking his head. "Flying slashes belong to great swordsmen. And before that comes the realm of the swordsman.
Right now, you're a skilled swordsman—but between that and a true swordsman lies a massive gap.
A swordsman can slice through steel."
"Steel, huh? Tell me more," Ren asked curiously.
"You really want to know? I'm not too sure myself," Zoro admitted with a sigh. "That's something my teacher told me.
'A sword that can cut nothing is the one that can cut steel.' I've never really understood what that means.
To me, a sword can't cut steel—it is steel.
If you want to cut it, you need overwhelming strength and a blade sharp enough to match."
Clearly, this was still the Zoro who had not yet grasped the Breath of Steel.
"Your master didn't explain further?" Ren pressed. "To summarize it that way, he must've been a true swordsman himself."
"Who knows," Zoro murmured, his eyes distant. "I haven't seen him fight in a long time. But once, I saw him cut an iron sword in half—with a bamboo one.
He told me then: To become a swordsman, you must perceive extraordinary power—to listen, to feel the breath of all things.
Life breathes. The sword breathes. Even steel breathes.
The way of the sword lies in that breath."
(End of Chapter)