CHAPTER 12 — SEEKING THE EDGE
The forest had grown quiet. Too quiet.
After the attack, the village had settled, life resuming in careful steps. Children laughed behind doors, villagers whispered in the streets, and the wind carried the faint tang of salt from the distant shore.
But I didn't linger.
Three swords strapped across my back, extra arm folded, body humming with residual tension from Rain of Swords, I muttered quietly to myself as I walked toward the docks.
"These blades… not enough. Not even close."
I spun one of my current swords idly in my hand. The steel sang faintly. It was sharp,
balanced, perfect for training—but lacking history, lacking weight, lacking something essential. My mind already calculated what I needed next.
THE PLAN
The only name that mattered in this part of East Blue was clear.
Wado Ichimonji.
One sword. Singular. Legendary in its own right. The blade carried skill, legacy, and history beyond what any forge could replicate.
And it belonged to Kuina.
I knew of her. Training in Shimotsuki Village, alongside her grandfather and the boy named Roronoa Zoro. Her movements were precise, refined from years of discipline. The blade was hers, and hers alone—or so the world said.
To acquire it peacefully? Impossible.
To acquire it efficiently? A challenge.
Worthwhile.
THE SAIL
I left Windmill Village behind, boarding a small boat I had salvaged weeks prior. The sun was low, painting the ocean gold. Waves rocked the hull gently, rhythm matching the calm before a storm. Observation Haki flared naturally, scanning the horizon, predicting weather, wind, and hidden obstacles.
Three days passed under the sun, wind, and salt spray. Each day was spent in training as much as navigation. My swords were never idle. Rain of Swords in open air became a storm of slashes cutting invisible lines in the sky, energy rippling faintly through the air as my extra arm spun in perfect
synchronization with the others.
By the time Shimotsuki Village appeared on the horizon, I was already calculating every potential path, every possible obstacle.
ARRIVAL IN SHIMOTSUKE VILLAGE
The village was quiet. Serene. Wooden homes built along cobblestone paths, children running through alleys, the faint sound of swords clashing from the dojo in the distance.
I could hear them.
Zoro and Kuina, their movements fluid, deliberate. Steel rang against steel. Every
strike a lesson, every block a story. Observation Haki tracked it all: foot placement, muscle tension, swing arcs, timing, coordination. Kuina's strikes were sharp and fast, impossible for an untrained eye to follow fully.
Her grandfather's voice barked corrections, advice, encouragement. She responded with a fluid bow and continued striking.
It would not be easy.
ASSESSING THE TARGET
I crouched behind the dojo, hidden from view.
Three arms flexed, swords at rest.
"One chance… one clean opportunity," I muttered quietly.
The Wado Ichimonji rested against a post, partially shadowed, as Kuina took a break to drink water. It gleamed faintly in the sun, edges reflecting history. Every fiber of my body recognized its weight, its balance,
even from a distance.
If I tried to take it now, I would provoke Kuina immediately. Zoro would notice. Her grandfather would intervene.
Impossible to take peacefully.
Perfect opportunity to study.
I did not rush. Patience was as sharp as any blade.
TRAINING IN SHADOW
I moved silently through the outskirts of Shimotsuki Village, testing Rain of Swords against trees, rocks, and old posts. Energy slashes rippled faintly through the air, blending with natural movements to remain unseen by anyone paying casual attention.
Observation Haki reached out toward the dojo. Every swing Kuina made, every step Zoro took, I cataloged. Timing. Arc. Speed. Pressure. Even when my body rested, my Haki and mind trained, measuring patterns that would allow me to take the sword later—not with force, but precision.
I tested my extra arm's coordination
relentlessly, imagining it intercepting attacks from multiple opponents while Rain of Swords layered silently around me.
Armament Haki coated my training swords lightly, adjusting dynamically as if the air itself had weight and would resist poorly executed strikes.
THE REALIZATION
By nightfall, I understood a truth that could not be ignored:
Kuina's skill was formidable. Zoro's defense even more so. Attempting a direct theft would end in defeat, or worse—injury that would slow my progress.
Patience, observation, and precision would be my weapons tonight.
And when the opportunity arose—
Wado Ichimonji would belong to me.
The dojo stood silent under the moon.
Three arms rested against my body.
Three swords hung ready.
Observation sharp. Armament primed. Rain of Swords humming faintly in the air.
The world would not hand me the blade.
Then I would take it—quietly, ruthlessly, without mercy.