Chapter 2: The Broken Blade Pirate

"Haah!"

A resounding shout echoed through the forest, startling a flock of birds into flight.

Moments later, thick clouds of dust billowed into the sky, accompanied by the thunderous sound of dozens of dead trees crashing to the ground.

A month had passed. Shanks looked at the samurai sword in his hand, feeling a deep sense of accomplishment. Over the past month, his swordsmanship had improved by leaps and bounds. It was no wonder he could rise to become a Yonko—his talent and growth were proof of his genuine strength.

Each day of training brought visible progress, and Shanks could feel himself getting stronger at an astonishing pace.

"Wind Pressure!"

With a flash of his blade, the surrounding dust and debris were swept away in an instant.

"The swordsmanship in the One Piece world is truly terrifying. To think that technique alone can achieve this level of power—slicing through the air and even controlling wind pressure."

With just a few swings, he had cleared the area of dust entirely. Once again, Shanks marveled at the unique power system of this world. It wasn't that he was particularly strong; it was the incredible potential of One Piece's power dynamics.

From a distance, one could see a massive column of wind within a 100-meter radius of Shanks, funneling upwards and dispersing the lingering dust completely.

Such mastery of swordsmanship was astonishing. In just one month, Shanks had already grasped several techniques.

"But this alone isn't enough. To reach Mihawk's level, where he can slice through an iceberg with a single strike, I'll need more than just swordsmanship. At the very least, I have to master Armament Haki."

"Armament Haki and Tekkai are fundamentally different. Both involve life energy, but achieving external coverage of Haki requires more than just manipulating life energy."

As he spoke, Shanks focused and summoned the unseen energy within his body.

Over the past month, he had gradually learned to control this mysterious energy.

In an instant, an invisible force coated Shanks' samurai sword. The flow of air around it shifted subtly under the influence of this energy.

"Slash!"

With a swift swing, a terrifying slash tore through the air. The very atmosphere seemed to fracture, leaving jagged cracks that resembled shattered glass.

The cracks appeared quickly and vanished just as fast.

However, the lake in the distance bore evidence of the slash's power. The water's surface had been split apart, leaving a gaping, unmoving divide. The sight was proof of Shanks' growing skill in swordsmanship—but it still wasn't enough.

Glancing at his still-intact samurai sword, Shanks remained calm.

"At this rate, I have no idea how long it will take to truly master Armament Haki. While combat is the quickest way to improve, it's too dangerous for me right now."

He couldn't afford to take the protagonist's approach. Without Armament Haki, running into a Logia-type Devil Fruit user would leave him with no option but to flee.

"Logia users are such a pain."

With no clear solution in sight, Shanks could only continue his training.

For now, his sole focus was channeling his willpower and spirit into condensing this energy, aiming to fully coat his weapon with it.

Until his sword turned black with Armament Haki, Shanks had no intention of setting sail.

Mastering Armament Haki was the absolute minimum requirement before venturing out to sea.

On the other side, at the edge of the forest near the coast, a small boat was docked. The air reeked of blood.

A man, dragging his exhausted body, stepped off the boat.

His body was wrapped in bandages, his upper torso soaked in blood. In his hand, he gripped a broken blade—nearly reduced to just a hilt. Yet even in its current state, it remained a lethal weapon in his grasp.

After the Third Great Ninja War, the ninja world had seemingly returned to peace, or at least that's how it appeared on the surface.

In reality, however, peace was a mere illusion.

Not long after the war, the Fourth Hokage of Konoha died in battle, Sunagakure plunged into chaos, and Kirigakure fell into disarray under the Bloody Mist policy.

Meanwhile, Iwagakure and Kumogakure were still dealing with the lingering aftermath of the war. Beneath this facade of "tranquility," the ninja world simmered with hidden tensions.

True peace had never existed.

At least, for Zabuza, it never had.

"Hahaha, I'm alive again. Killing me, Momochi Zabuza, isn't so easy!"

Lying on the sandy shore, Zabuza stared at the sky, laughing wildly.

"Mizukage, you'll pay for this."

He glanced at the broken Kubikiribōchō in his hand, a bitter smile crossing his face.

Making the Mizukage pay was a certainty in Zabuza's mind, but it wasn't something he could achieve right now.

After all, Kirigakure wasn't just the Mizukage—there were countless other shinobi to contend with. Not to mention the overwhelming power of the Tailed Beasts, far beyond what a mere elite Jōnin like him could handle.

"Strange… why is the wind blowing toward the sea?"

Zabuza removed his forehead protector. With his injuries as severe as they were, exposing his identity at this moment was the last thing he wanted.

He squinted at the clouds a few kilometers away, which appeared to be descending.

"Could it be caused by a powerful summoning beast?"

The idea unsettled Zabuza.

If it really was some kind of summoning beast, it could be an opportunity. Signing a contract with such a creature would be a significant boost to his strength.

But in his current condition, facing a beast of that caliber might be impossible.

After weighing his options, Zabuza decided to head into the forest. Staying near the coast was too dangerous.

Before long, after disposing of his boat, Zabuza began making his way into the dense woods.

Along the way, his experienced eyes began noticing strange signs—very few animals inhabited the forest. To Zabuza, this suggested the presence of a powerful creature dominating the area.

However, as he ventured further, his unease deepened.

The ground was scarred with countless ravines, and the trees lay in pieces, cleanly sliced.

This destruction was horrifying, a testament to the sheer ferocity of whatever beast called this place home. Based on the scale of the devastation, it rivaled the power of the Tailed Beasts Zabuza had seen.

Yet, despite these signs, Zabuza found no traces of any such beast.

Instead, a small house by the lakeside came into view.

Outside the house stood a man dressed like a civilian samurai, his eyes closed, gripping a katana.

An intense chakra radiated from the man, concentrated entirely on the blade. The aura sent shivers down Zabuza's spine.

No beast, no formidable summoning creature—this man before him was the true master of this domain.

"Red hair?"

Zabuza noticed the striking color of the man's hair.

"As long as he's not an enemy."

Relieved upon discerning the man's identity, Zabuza let out a quiet sigh.