The plaza no longer felt like part of Loguetown.
It felt like a dueling ground carved out of the world itself.
No wind.
No vendors shouting.
No movement except the slow tightening of Marine ranks around the square and the quiet shift of feet against stone.
Kenji rolled his shoulder once.
Pain followed immediately.
It wasn't fresh pain. Not from Tsuruha's blade.
It was older — deeper. The lingering damage from Cocoyasi. From Hale. From pushing his body past where it should have stopped.
His ribs still ached when he breathed too deeply.
The cut along his thigh tugged every time he adjusted his stance.
Even the grip of his hands felt slightly weaker than it should have been.
He ignored all of it.
Across from him, Rear Admiral Tsuruha Kiyome adjusted her footing with quiet precision, blade angled forward, posture effortless.
She noticed.
Of course she noticed.
"You are not fully healed," she said calmly
Kenji smirked despite the sweat gathering along his brow. "You're not wrong."
"Your stance compensates on the left," she continued. "Your right shoulder drops half a breath too late. Your grip tightens when you inhale."
Kenji blinked once. "…You watching me or fighting me?"
"Both," she replied.
Ryu stood near the edge of the plaza, arms relaxed but ready. From where he stood, he could see it clearly too — the stiffness in Kenji's movement, the faint hesitation whenever pressure hit his injured side.
He wasn't at full strength.
Neither of them were.
Ryu's own ribs throbbed whenever he shifted too sharply. The deep bruising from Hale's kicks and blade strikes hadn't faded yet. His Armament still felt heavier than usual, like his body had to push harder to call it up.
Aira leaned slightly closer to him. "You can see it too, right?"
Ryu nodded once. "Yeah."
"She's noticed."
"I know."
Tsuruha raised her blade slightly, posture unchanged.
"I will not use the Six Powers," she said.
Kenji paused. "What?"
"The Rokushiki," she clarified calmly. "I will not use them."
A few Marines behind her shifted in surprise.
Lieutenant Darius frowned. "Rear Admiral—"
"This duel is about swordsmanship," Tsuruha continued, voice steady. "Not Marine techniques. Not speed tricks. Not body hardening."
Her eyes remained on Kenji.
"If I used them," she said quietly, "you would learn nothing."
Kenji's grin returned slowly. "So you're holding back."
"No," she corrected. "I am narrowing the field."
He let out a short laugh. "You're interesting."
"Focus," she replied.
Then she moved.
Her step was smooth — no explosive burst, no flash step. Just precise motion. Her blade cut in from the right, aimed not to kill but to test reaction.
Kenji met it.
Steel rang.
The impact traveled straight into his wrists and down his arms, aggravating old strain. He shifted his footing to absorb the force, but his injured thigh protested sharply.
Tsuruha noticed the micro-hesitation instantly.
Her blade turned, sliding along his guard and striking toward his ribs.
Kenji twisted away just in time — but not cleanly. The edge skimmed across his side, slicing cloth and reopening a half-healed cut beneath.
Warmth spread across his torso.
He gritted his teeth.
Tsuruha pulled back a step, eyes calm.
"You see?" she said softly. "Unhealed wounds become openings."
Kenji exhaled through his nose. "Then I'll just close them faster."
He stepped in aggressively, blade arcing downward with heavier force than before. This wasn't wild swinging anymore — there was direction behind it now. Intent. His Armament coated the edge more consistently, darkening along the steel.
Tsuruha blocked cleanly.
But this time, the impact pushed her back half a step.
The Marines around the plaza noticed.
So did Ryu.
Kenji pressed again — a horizontal cut aimed low. Tsuruha parried, redirected, then countered with a thrust toward his shoulder.
Kenji deflected, barely.
Their blades moved faster now.
Not chaotic.
Structured.
Each exchange built on the last, Tsuruha testing angles and timing while Kenji adapted under pressure. His breathing steadied. His shoulders loosened slightly as instinct gave way to focus.
Still—
He wasn't at full strength.
A sharp twist sent pain lancing through his ribs, slowing him a fraction too long. Tsuruha's blade tapped his side again, not deep but enough to sting.
"Pain changes rhythm," she said.
Kenji smirked despite the sweat sliding down his temple. "Good thing I like music."
Aira groaned quietly. "He's joking while bleeding."
Ryu's mouth twitched faintly. "That's normal."
Kenji lunged again.
This time, he didn't aim to overpower.
He aimed to cut.
The difference was subtle but real.
Tsuruha's eyes sharpened as she parried — then had to adjust mid-motion as Kenji redirected his strike fluidly, the blade gliding rather than forcing.
A thin line appeared across her sleeve.
Again.
She stepped back.
For the first time since the duel began, her expression shifted beyond calm assessment.
Interest.
"…Yes," she murmured.
Kenji's chest rose and fell heavily. His grip trembled — not from fear, but fatigue layered over lingering injuries.
He was pushing past limits his body hadn't finished repairing.
Tsuruha saw it clearly.
"You are forcing your body forward while it still recovers," she said. "That is dangerous."
Kenji wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. "Everything worth doing is dangerous."
"Spoken like a fighter," she replied.
He raised his blade again. "I told you. I'm working on the swordsman part."
Behind them, the Marine perimeter shifted.
Lieutenant Darius stepped forward, voice low but tense. "Rear Admiral. We've allowed this long enough."
Tsuruha didn't look at him.
"No," she said calmly. "We have not."
Darius's gaze slid toward Ryu.
Several Marines adjusted grips on rifles.
Ryu noticed.
Of course he did.
He exhaled slowly, shoulders loosening as his weight shifted forward a fraction. Observation Haki brushed outward like a quiet ripple, mapping movement, tension, intent.
Aira glanced sideways at him. "Don't start."
Ryu gave a faint smile. "I'm just stretching."
Darius stepped another pace forward, hand resting on the hilt of his own blade now.
"If your companion interferes," he warned, eyes on Ryu, "we will respond."
Ryu tilted his head slightly. "Interfere with what? A friendly spar?"
Several Marines bristled.
Aira muttered, "You're enjoying this too much."
Ryu shrugged lightly. "Little bit."
Kenji heard that.
Even mid-duel, even with blood trickling down his side and lungs burning with every breath — he noticed.
"…You're joking more," Kenji muttered under his breath.
Tsuruha caught the words.
"So you have," she said quietly.
Ryu blinked. "Have what?"
"Recovered," she replied without looking away from Kenji.
Kenji's grin returned, smaller but genuine. "About time."
Tsuruha shifted her stance again, blade rising slightly.
"Enough testing," she said.
The air sharpened.
Kenji tightened his grip instinctively.
Tsuruha's presence changed — not heavier, not overwhelming, but more defined. The easy corrections faded. The subtle taps ceased. What remained was a clean, focused killing line held deliberately in check.
"This next exchange," she said calmly, "will not slow for your injuries."
Kenji inhaled.
Pain flared.
He ignored it.
"Good," he said.
Their blades rose.
Around them, Marines tightened formation.
Ryu's gaze hardened slightly as he felt the tension spike — not from Tsuruha, but from the soldiers surrounding them. Hands tightening on rifles. Feet adjusting. Orders waiting just beneath the surface.
If this duel tipped even slightly—
Everything would explode.
Tsuruha moved first.
Kenji met her.
Steel crashed together with a sound that rang across Loguetown like a bell struck at the edge of a storm.
And this time—
Neither of them held back.
___