FOUCH!
Twenty minutes. That was all it took to cover the Osaka-Kyoto distance at that speed.
Entering the city, the first thing that registered was the smell — or rather the absence of it. The salty sea air that had been fading kilometer by kilometer had now vanished entirely. The discomfort that followed was immediate and slightly embarrassing.
'Damn. Barely thirty minutes since leaving Osaka and already homesick. Became a real Osakan without even noticing.'
That unease was pushed aside. The hunt was what mattered.
Following the residue trail through the streets eventually led to the city center, and from there to an abandoned building.
'Alley. Abandoned building. What's next — the sewers? A closed subway station? These clichés never end.'
Complaints filed and set aside. Moving quickly into the shadows, the skateboard came off the ground and was tucked into a nearby crate.
The building was studied more carefully from cover. Same as the one used to torture Toji — a factory. Disused, gutted, the kind of structure that exists in every city and gets used for exactly this sort of thing.
'Gate's locked. Forcing it means noise, and noise means losing the element of surprise.'
A sweep around the perimeter confirmed the windows were all blocked solid with cinder blocks.
'Check the roof. But first — confirm this is actually the right place.'
Observation Haki pushed outward abruptly, stretching to cover the entire building in one motion.
The trail hadn't lied.
'The children's auras are still there. Not dead yet. Good.'
Something else registered alongside them — the familiar, nauseating signature of cursed energy. Close. And it was wrapping around another aura rather than existing independently.
'Not a cursed spirit. A curse user. But then why were there so many residue traces leading here? And—' Attention shifted upward, toward the roof. 'There's another one up there. A guard.'
Rather than pressure, this information produced the opposite effect. A small smirk formed under the half-mask.
Still hidden in the shadows, arms and legs were stretched out. A few light hops to get the blood moving.
A few minutes of that and the body was ready.
'Let's violence.'
Moving fast through the dark side of the building, keeping to the unlit sections. The sleeve of the hoodie rolled up to reveal a knife case strapped around the wrist.
Four knives total. Two were taken and coated completely in Armament Haki.
One placed in the free hand. Pressed slowly against the wall.
It went through the concrete like it wasn't there.
Using the embedded knife as a foothold, the second was driven higher into the wall. Both feet left the ground.
First knife pulled free, repositioned above, driven back in. Then the same with the second. And so on, meter by meter, working steadily up the side of the factory in near-complete silence.
Five minutes of climbing. Then — one jump from the roof.
A deep breath.
'Maximum effort.'
Both knives used as launch points. Body launched upward.
Before landing, a third knife was already in hand and in the air, thrown at the guard's back while he stood facing away.
'That's one.'
Except it wasn't. The guard was better than anticipated — he caught the sound of the blade moving through the air and stepped aside at the very last moment, letting it pass harmlessly.
He spun around immediately, a thick layer of cursed energy coating him on reflex.
Landing completed on the other side.
"Sheesh. You dodged that? Not bad."
'High cursed energy. Well-trained movement. If he has more to show, he's Grade 1 minimum.'
The guard was dressed in all black, same general principle — but where this side of the fight wore ordinary clothes and a half-mask, he wore an actual camouflage suit. The kind made for this.
A professional. And he proved it immediately — instead of wasting time processing what had just happened, he went straight to questions.
"Who are you, and what are you here for?"
No direct answer. Both hands moved to the hilts instead, drawing Wado Ichimonji and Shusui.
"Came to deal with the cockroach that's been operating in my territory."
The air between them shifted.
"So my client is your target."
That landed cleanly. Filed away without reaction.
"Your client. So you're a curse user as well."
The guard, who had dropped into a crouch during the exchange, straightened back up.
"This doesn't concern you."
"Yeah, you're right — it doesn't concern me," a combat stance settled in naturally, "because you and him are going to die either way."
Both Desert Eagles came out from behind the guard's back.
Aimed. Triggers pulled three times each.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Six bullets crossed the distance. No retreat, no jump — the targeted spots were simply shifted so the bullets passed by instead of connecting.
The bullets were made of cursed energy, but each one carried a different color.
Two red. Two yellow. Two green.
They continued past and embedded themselves into the wall of the building behind, leaving six distinct holes. But the holes weren't normal. Two showed clean burn marks. Two more had burns as well, but with faint electrical arcs still dancing around the edges. The last two — the wall itself had simply dissolved on contact.
'Different attributes per bullet. Red is fire or explosion. Yellow is electricity. Green is acid or some kind of corrosive. Interesting technique.'
While that analysis was still running, the guard moved. Taking the apparent distraction as an opening, he stopped holding back.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
The barrage didn't stop. An uncountable stream of projectiles, all crossing the roof simultaneously.
'Try dodging all of that,' the guard thought — though the heaving of his chest made the energy cost of it obvious.
His expression shifted when he saw what actually happened.
Every single bullet was deflected by a blade turned black.
'What the—'
He couldn't process it. A kid who looked half his age was casually neutralizing a technique he had spent years building and refining.
On this side, the reaction was closer to genuine admiration.
'He forced Armament Haki out of me.'
The plan from the start had been to fight with body and blade technique only — no Haki, treat this as real training. But the guard's ability made that impossible to maintain.
'The red and green bullets aren't a serious problem. The yellow ones are. Electricity conducted through the blade would jump straight to the body the moment they connected without Haki running.'
Last bullet deflected. A sharp sound — Soru — and the position vanished from the guard's line of sight, reappearing directly behind him with Shusui already descending.
Not the incomplete, unstable version from years ago. A clean, efficient Soru.
The guard proved again that the initial read on him was accurate. He avoided the descending katana despite the speed of it, and even while off-balance managed to redirect and fire.
BANG!
BANG!
Two point-blank shots. No choice but to retreat again with Soru, giving him the time to regain his footing and reposition.
Positions had reversed. The guard now stood where Zoro had been. Zoro stood where the guard had been.
Silence settled for a moment. Then the guard spoke.
"My innate technique is called Mystic Ammunition."
'He's giving a technique reveal?'
"This technique allows me to create cursed-energy bullets, each carrying a specific attribute — fire, explosion, acid, adhesive. The stronger or more complex the attribute, the greater the cursed energy cost to produce it."
The Desert Eagles were displayed briefly.
"A firearm is required to use it. The caliber isn't chosen manually — the technique reads the weapon and generates the correct caliber automatically."
'Excellent technique. Genuinely. Versatile in a way that very few are. If cursed energy is the only real limiting factor, the ceiling on this thing is S-rank easily. Anti-cursed-energy bullets. Gravitational rounds. Attribute combinations. The potential is absurd — it's just held back by his current energy reserves.'
Years of power-scaling had built an instinct for this — identifying a technique and immediately mapping its theoretical ceiling. Mystic Ammunition was the kind of ability that deserved serious attention. Similar in concept to the Construction technique, though less raw in power. The shared weakness was the same: the cursed energy cost at optimal use was enormous.
'Experienced. But not comfortable in direct physical combat. Assassination type — he fights at range, eliminates targets before they can close the distance.'
The heart was moving fast. Excitement had been building since the fight started, and managing it required deliberate effort.
'Want to keep going. But the noise up here was unavoidable — whoever's downstairs already knows something's happening.'
Wado Ichimonji was sheathed. A question directed at the guard before the next move.
"What's your name?"
No reply. One Desert Eagle was holstered. The other came up in a two-handed grip, and all remaining cursed energy began flowing into it — slow, deliberate, everything at once.
Fine.
"Don't answer then. I'll find out eventually."
Eyes closed. His closed at the same moment.
Shusui moved behind the head, free hand gripping the bicep.
"Sight. Hearing. Smell. Taste. Touch. Thought. And unto the six mortal senses…"
The energy pouring into the Desert Eagle kept building. The frame was starting to tremble under it.
"Good. Evil. Neutrality. And further unto each, purity and corruption."
"The 36 earthly desires of this world."
The guard's eyes opened. Everything he had left released in a single point.
"ERASURE BULLET!"
BANG!
A hand thrust forward, compressing the air into a single focused point.
"Ittoryu: Sanjuroku Pound Ho."
Both techniques released at the same moment.
The erasure bullet did exactly what its name implied — the concrete of the roof simply ceased to exist anywhere near its path, a full meter and a half of solid material gone between them.
By normal logic, the compressed air strike should have disappeared with it.
But the trajectory wasn't a straight line.
Zoro's attack moved like a vortex — spiraling rather than driving forward directly. It curved wide enough to avoid the bullet's erasure field entirely and kept going.
The guard was already past his limit. No energy left to move, no reserves to draw on. No dodge was possible.
The compressed air connected like a cannonball.
BOOM!