Zoro walked forward slowly, each of his step dragging like it weighed a hundred pounds.
His withered right arm hung limp at his side, swaying with every step.
Each movement tugged at his shoulder, sending sharp pain through his body.
He didn't make a sound.
He just pressed his lips together, his left hand gripping the scabbard of Wado Ichimonji so tight it seemed ready to shatter.
Zoro stopped three steps away from Zaraki.
For a swordsman, this distance was the line between life and death.
But Zoro knew in front of this man, there was no difference between three steps and three hundred.
"I'm leaving." Zoro's voice was hoarse. His eyes glared like a crippled wolf, locked onto Zaraki's nonchalant face.
"This arm… if I don't get it treated soon, my path with the sword ends here."
He was just stating a fact.
Zaraki sat in his chair, not even lifting his eyelids.
His fingers tapped idly on the hilt of the Cursed Blade Murasame he had just acquired.
Zoro took a deep breath.
The wound on his chest split open again from the tension.
"I, Roronoa Zoro, will remember what happened today. As long as I'm alive... I'll come for your head and that sword."
This was a declaration of war, and his last shred of dignity.
He had to leave... If he stayed any longer, that suffocating gap in strength would rot into fear—and once that fear took root, his swordsman's path would end right there.
The air fell silent.
"Are you done?" Zaraki stopped tapping his fingers and opened his eyes.
There was no mockery in those eyes, nor any killing intent.
Just calm.
A calm that made Zoro feel even more insulted!
"You can leave if you want." Zaraki stood up and stretched, his joints letting out a series of cracks.
"But there's no free lunch. That kick of yours damaged my deck, and all this blood needs cleaning. That costs money."
He kicked the large iron chest filled with ten million Berries at his feet.
"Carry this and come with me."
"Huh?" Zoro's tense face froze, his blazing determination doused by cold water.
"You want me... to carry things for you?"
"What else? You expect those two little girls who only know how to scream to do it?" Zaraki glanced at Nami and Carina, trembling in a corner.
Even when called out, the girls didn't dare look up.
The slash that cleaved the sea shattered their thoughts of escape. In front of this man, any of their scheme seemed laughable.
"Either die here and become a snack for this Cursed Blade, or work for me to pay off your debt. We'll see if you live long enough to find a doctor."
Zaraki shouldered the long blade and walked toward the cabin door without looking back.
"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. The withering caused by Murasame can't be cured by a normal doctor. Follow me, and maybe if I'm in a good mood, I'll tell you how to treat it."
Zoro stood rooted to the spot, the veins on his temples throbbing.
This was humiliation!
But he looked at his shriveled right arm, then at the tall figure's back and swallowed his pride.
"Damn bastard," he cursed under his breath, grabbed the heavy iron chest with one hand, and staggered after him.
...
Meanwhile, in the only tavern at Shimotsuki Village's port.
Clang!
A glass of rum slammed onto the bar. Shattering glass flew out, cutting the bartender's face.
"Couldn't find her? You're telling me you couldn't find her?" The roar exploded inside the small tavern.
A burly man wrapped in iron chains sat at the bar.
He had a mess of green hair, a sickly, savage grin, and a vicious glint in his eyes behind his sunglasses.
It was the Treasure Hunter, Mad Treasure.
At his feet, a burly bald pirate knelt on the ground, trembling.
He was "Iron Hammer" Bart, with a bounty of five million Berries.
But this Bart, even holding the hammer he usually brandished so arrogantly, didn't dare show the slightest disrespect to the man in front of him.
"B-Boss Treasure... That 'little thief cat' is too cunning," the bald pirate stammered, sweat trickling down his shiny head.
"She's a thief who specializes in robbing pirates. She knows the terrain around here too well. Our men searched every alley but..."
"So you're saying my treasure map key is still in that rat's hands?" Treasure cut him off, his voice suddenly dropping to a gentle whisper.
He reached out and stroked the bald pirate's large head. The iron chains wrapped around his palm made a teeth-grinding, scraping sound.
"Y-Yes, but don't worry, Boss! I sent men to block off the docks—"
Before the bald pirate could finish, his pupils contracted.
"Then you're a useless piece of trash."
Squelch!
Without warning, the iron chains on Treasure's palm tightened. They bit into flesh, followed by a vicious twist.
The bald pirate didn't even have time to scream before his massive head exploded.
Red and white matter splattered over the bar and onto Treasure's laughing face.
"Hahahaha! Useless! All of you are useless!" Treasure stuck out his tongue and licked the blood from the corner of his mouth.
The sweet taste made him tremble with excitement.
"What I want are results! Results!"
The other patrons in the tavern had long since shrunk under their tables in fear, not daring to breathe.
This was the mad dog of the East Blue, a monster who'll crushed anything for treasure.
The tavern door pushed open, and a pirate with a skull tattoo on his chest ran in frantic.
"R-Report, Captain! We have news!" The pirate didn't dare glance at the headless corpse on the floor as he knelt on one knee.
"A guy at the docks just saw that 'little thief cat' board a small boat heading north! And..."
The pirate swallowed hard. "And they say a marine trainee was nearby. There was some strange commotion on the sea just now. Someone said they saw a Sea Beast get cut in half..."
"A marine trainee?" Treasure took off his sunglasses, revealing his bloodshot eyes.
The smile on his lips grew ferocious.
"Interesting. A rat who stole my things, and a clueless little marine brat? Daring to run wild on my turf?"
He shot to his feet, the chains on his body clattering as a tyrannical aura swept through the room.
"Pass the order! Everyone to the ships! Give chase!"
Treasure kicked the corpse blocking his way aside and strode toward the door.
"I'm going to skin that little thief cat and make a lampshade out of her! As for that trainee... hehe, my favorite sound is happen to be the cracking of a Marine's bones!"
As Treasure left with his vicious underlings, the oppressive atmosphere in the tavern eased.
However, no one noticed the man in the darkest corner of the tavern slowly putting down his glass.
He wore a gray cloak and under the shadow, only a resolute jaw and a cigars in his mouth were visible.
"Treasure," the man muttered, watching the direction the pirates left.
He didn't follow right away, instead taking out a Transponder Snail from his coat.
He dialed a number, his voice calm amidst the noisy background.
"The target left port. Seems he found his prey. Also, that new trainee who caused a stir seems to be his target too."
He paused, looking through the window at the dark clouds gathering over the distant sea.
"What are your orders Captain?"
The other end of the Transponder Snail went silent for a moment.
Then came the crisp sound of a lighter striking flint, followed by a lazy exhale of smoke.
"Treasure? That mad dog that bites everything in sight finally couldn't hold back?" Smoker's voice carried the unique rasp of a heavy smoker.
Even through the Transponder Snail, the adjutant could picture the captain with his feet propped on his desk, puffing away with an impatient look.
"Since he crawled out of his dog hole on his own, it saves me the trouble of digging through those moldy sewers. As for that... what's-his-name? Zaraki?"
The Transponder Snail mimicked Smoker's expression, furrowing its brow and turning down the corner of its mouth in a sneer.
"A greenhorn who just set sail thinks he can run wild in the East Blue just because he cut down a Sea Beast? I bury dozens of overconfident brats like him in Loguetown every year."
"But Captain, according to intel, Zaraki seems connected to Vice Admiral Garp..." The adjutant lowered his voice, hesitating.
"Shut up," Smoker cut him off cold. "This is the East Blue. My turf. It isn't a nursery for those old geezers from Headquarters. Since he's a marine trainee, he should be ready to die at the hands of pirates!"
Another heavy puff of smoke came through the receiver.
A hint of amusement entered Smoker's tone.
"But, since this brat loves the spotlight so much, let's give it to him. Inform that old bastard who does nothing but eat rice crackers all day. Tell him his precious trainee is playing with fire near Shimotsuki Village. If he's late, he'll probably have to collect his corpse from a shark's stomach."
Click.
He hung up.
The adjutant looked at the sleeping Transponder Snail in his hand and sighed.
He cast his gaze toward the gloomy sea outside the window. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, and waves crashed against the reefs with a low roar.
Treasure's madness, Smoker's orders, and the unaware recruit... the three parties were about to collide in the waters of the East Blue!
...
Meanwhile, on the sea ten nautical miles from Shimotsuki Village, a small sailboat bobbed with the waves.
Zaraki was unaware that in the past few minutes, his name had been uttered by the most vicious pirate and the most troublesome Marine Captain in the East Blue.
If he knew, he'd probably just yawn.
Right now, he faced a more severe problem.
"Hey, Moss Head, pick up the pace." Zaraki sat on a freshly wiped folding chair holding a cup of hot tea.
He watched the figure at the other end of the deck struggling with a mop.
"If you don't clean the bloodstains from the cracks in the deck, it'll attract rats at night. Or would you rather I throw that sword into the sea to feed the fish?"
Not far away, Zoro gripped the mop with one hand, veins bulging on his forehead.
Every push and pull looked like an attempt to take the deck down with him. His withered right arm hung limp, the intense pain making his face pale.
But the humiliation was worse.
The future greatest swordsman was reduced to a cleaner boy!
"Shut up," Zoro gritted out through his teeth. "Once my arm is healed... I'll cut you down!"
"Yeah, yeah, get in line. The line of people who want to cut me down stretches from here to the New world." Zaraki waved his hand, paying no mind to the pirate hunter's threat.
His gaze swept over Nami and Carina.
They peeked at him from the cabin entrance like they were looking at a monster.
The corners of his mouth turned up.
The two little thief cats were terrified, but they boarded the ship.
Keeping them on board was the biggest gain of this voyage. After all, excellent Navigators are a scarce resource in this world.
But those weren't the most pressing matters.
Zaraki put down his teacup and stood up.
The sea breeze rolled across the deck as he stood. Strategies and connections were just fragile bubbles in the face of absolute power.
Today's battle crushed Zoro, but it also made Zaraki realize his own body had a long way to go before he became a true monster.
The Kenpachi Zaraki template was powerful, but it relied on pure violence.
He needed a tougher physique and a killer instinct to master it.
Even after that single explosive slash earlier, he felt a faint soreness deep in his muscles.
It was the price, and a reminder.
'The System was never a nanny. It just gave me a key,' he thought.
Zaraki's gaze pulled back from the horizon, falling upon an ordinary wooden sword at his feet.
The material was rough, and its balance was off.
Compared to the Cursed Blade Murasame, it was trash.
He bent down and picked it up.
As his fingertips brushed against the rough grain, a grounded feeling spread from his palm.
In a world filled with Devil Fruits and Haki, sweat and daily practice were the only shortcuts to the top.
Zaraki took a deep breath of salty sea air, spread his shoulder and assumed the most basic opening stance.
Seeing this, Zoro paused his wrestling with the mop and looked over. Even Nami and Carina peeked their heads out from the corner.
'What is this monster going to do now?' they wondered.
Zaraki just raised the battered wooden sword high.
His gaze focused, clearing his mind of any distracting thoughts.
"Since I'm idle anyway," he murmured.
The muscles in his arm tensed as the wooden sword cut through the air with a dull whoosh.
"Let's start with ten thousand swings."
...
Guys re read it from chapter 1 since i rewrite it all... cause yeah it was a messss!