It really was just a piece of clothing.
The material was matte, without even the faintest sheen a treasure ought to have.
It looked more like an old coat thrown away by some dockworker.
And yet that old coat was lying quietly in a pit half a meter deep.
The edges of the pit showed radial marks from the instant pressure of the impact, and a few startled earthworms twisted through the freshly turned soil.
Silence spread through the area.
Zoro's stiff neck gave a crack as he slowly turned to look at his teacher, hoping Koushirou would say this was some kind of illusion.
Koushirou only adjusted the half-broken frame on the bridge of his nose. His usually narrowed eyes were open as he stared at the black coat lying at the bottom of the pit.
"Three hundred kilograms."
Zaraki's voice broke the silence.
He jumped down into the pit.
The ground beneath his feet groaned again under the strain.
He simply grabbed the trench coat by the collar, like he was lifting a sack of rice.
The coat did not hang the way normal cloth should. It gave off a dull, heavy scraping sound as it moved.
'That's just the coat's starting gravity setting.' Zaraki thought as he slipped one arm into the sleeve.
The moment the coat settled fully onto his body, Zoro clearly saw Zaraki's spine sink slightly.
The muscles at his neck bulged at once, writhing beneath the skin like two giant serpents as they fought the pressure.
Crack.
Several fine fractures spread from the ground beneath Zaraki's feet.
"Hah..."
A slow, heavy breath left his mouth, trailing white mist into the air.
This was the kind of pressure the Kenpachi Zaraki Template wanted.
A constant struggle against the outside world, and against himself.
Zaraki closed his eyes.
Deep in his consciousness, the stream of data began to rearrange itself.
[Template: Zaraki Kenpachi]
[Current Unlock Progress: 10%]
[Status: Under Gravity Suppression]
Zaraki narrowed his eyes slightly.
The new garment had already been recognized by the System as an active suppression state.
That was enough for him.
"This garment..." Koushirou finally spoke.
He took a step forward, his gaze moving across the black cloth as if he were trying to sense something inside it.
"It's not only heavy, is it? The violent aura coming from you also seems to be getting swallowed by it."
"Good eye."
Zaraki fastened the top button of the coat, and the fearsome aura pouring from him dimmed at once.
He now looked like nothing more than a slightly muscular young man.
He tugged at the collar and felt the surging aura inside him being forced down and compressed by the garment.
"This thing keeps pressing down on my body and suppressing the aura leaking out of me."
A chill of anticipation crept into Zaraki's grin.
"When I loosen it, the restraint comes off all at once. That's more than enough."
Koushirou's eyelid twitched faintly.
Treating battle like entertainment, burdening himself with a shackle this heavy at his age, all for the sake of chasing that single moment of release—
This young man was a complete madman!
"Since you've found a training method that suits you, Zaraki, I can at least be at ease." Koushirou shook his head with a bitter smile, then looked past him toward the thicket in the distance.
The weighted wrist guards Zoro had thrown away were lying there.
"But compared to this strange garment, I'm more interested in those two wrist guards. Their density isn't as outrageous, but they'd be excellent for tempering the bodies of my dis..."
A green blur shot past him.
Before Koushirou could finish speaking, Zoro had already charged into the brush like a wild dog protecting its food.
He did not care about the thorns cutting at his skin.
He grabbed the two pitch-black wrist guards and clutched them tightly in his arms, nearly lying on top of them!
"These are mine!" Zoro lifted his head.
His face was smeared with dirt and grass, but his eyes were shining with a frightening intensity as he stared at his teacher, as though he would draw his sword and fight to the death if Koushirou took one more step.
"You were just saying you didn't want them." Zaraki watched the scene with some amusement.
"Shut up! I changed my mind!"
Zoro ground his teeth, his face burning red.
The weight in his arms still hurt his pride, but another feeling had already swallowed that up.
These were not just two lumps of iron.
Since that monster had used them, they must be one of the secrets behind his strength!
'If that bastard thinks they're too light, then I'll carry them.'
'And one day... I'll throw them away like trash too!'
"Alright, alright. They're yours."
Koushirou rubbed his forehead helplessly at the sight of his disciple in such a miserable state.
He was about to say something and ease the awkwardness left behind by the destroyed dojo when—
"Something's wrong! Something's wrong!"
A panicked shout came from outside the bamboo grove and broke the tension between the three of them.
An old village chief in his sixties, dressed in tattered linen, stumbled into the backyard.
He had run so hard that one of his shoes had fallen off.
Terror filled the wrinkles on his face.
"Master Koushirou! Something terrible's happened!"
The old village chief bent over, gasping for breath, his cloudy eyes bloodshot.
"The docks... at the docks..."
"Don't panic. Speak slowly." Koushirou's expression turned serious at once.
The easy air around him disappeared, and the composure of a dojo master returned.
"What happened?"
"There... there are Marines!" The old village chief gulped air between words and pointed a trembling finger toward the entrance of the village.
"A warship docked there, but... but it's wrecked! The Marines on board are covered in blood, like they crawled out of a pile of corpses, and they're evacuating everyone at the pier!"
"Marines getting hunted?" Zaraki raised a brow.
That was rare.
In the East Blue, the weakest of the four seas, a Marine branch still carried enough deterrence most of the time.
Unless—
"It's pirates! A huge pirate ship is chasing them!"
The old village chief swallowed hard, and the fear in his eyes deepened.
"That ship... that ship is too strange! The hull is wrapped in thick iron chains, and the railings are covered with gems and gold. It shines so brightly out on the sea it hurts your eyes! They've already forced the warship into the harbor!"
Gems.
Iron chains.
Zaraki's eyelids twitched the moment those two details reached him.
That vulgar style. That shameless display of wealth.
In his memory, it matched a name that was both irritating and perfect for testing a blade.
"Heh..."
Zaraki lowered his head and let out a low laugh.
He raised his hand and lightly stroked the black coat he had just put on.
The rough texture under his fingertips made them tremble slightly, and a thread of excitement crawled slowly up his spine.
He had thought he would have to spend a few more dull days in this peaceful village.
Who would have guessed that right after getting new gear, a suicidal gift package would come knocking at his door!
"A pirate ship covered in gems?"
Zaraki turned toward the direction of the sea.
The calm that had just returned to his eyes burned away.
The grin curling at the corner of his mouth was so sinister that the old village chief, still panting for breath, fell backward onto the ground in fright.
"Sounds... rich."
Before the last word had even settled, his figure vanished.
What remained was a deep footprint pressed into the ground by the force of his movement, and an unsettling pressure left hanging in the air.
"Wait! What is that madman trying to do now?!"
Only then did Zoro come back to himself.
He hurriedly stuffed the two heavy wrist guards into his belt, snatched up Wado Ichimonji from the ground, and moved to chase after him.
He had only taken two steps when the old village chief's description flashed through his head again.
Zoro stopped dead.
The anger on his face drained in an instant.
'Could it really be that guy?!'
Zoro's throat tightened.
The fragments in his mind finally came together and formed a wanted poster that sent a chill through him.
"Treasure... it's Mad Treasure!"
Zoro whipped around and stared at Koushirou, his voice urgent.
"Sensei! I know now why that guy asked how to cut iron! That pirate... that bastard is a chain! His whole body can turn into chains harder than steel, and he can wrap himself in them like armor!"
Koushirou's finger stopped halfway to his glasses.
It was not the pirate's name that made him pause.
He had suddenly understood that the boy called Zaraki had already chosen what he wanted to cut from the moment he asked that reckless question about Iron Cutting.
"Causality reversed..." Koushirou murmured softly.
His eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
"He decides what he wants to cut first, then goes looking for the method. What an... arrogant man."
The two exchanged a look.
Zoro's face was tense with anxiety, while Koushirou's gaze had grown grave.
Neither of them wasted another word.
Zoro bit Wado Ichimonji between his teeth.
Koushirou gripped his bamboo sword.
One after the other, the two of them rushed out of the dojo.
...
Meanwhile, in the woods five hundred meters from the coast, Zaraki was not charging straight for the docks the way Zoro expected.
He stood atop the canopy of a tall tree.
The branch under his feet groaned beneath the weight, letting out a harsh sound that set the teeth on edge.
"Observation Haki... useful, but noisy."
Zaraki closed his eyes, brows drawing together slightly.
In his perception, the life forces near the docks were in complete chaos.
Among them, one dark-red aura was especially frenzied, swallowing the faint blue ones around it.
At the edge of that chaos, a familiar aura was hiding desperately in a corner, so weak it felt like it could disappear at any moment.
Carina.
"Tch. Stealing from an opponent like that... should I call you lucky or unlucky?"
Zaraki opened his eyes, and a helpless smile touched the corner of his mouth.
His speed was being dragged down by the weight on his body. At best, it would still take him half a minute to reach the docks.
"There's no helping it, guess i'll send my regards first."
Zaraki reached behind his waist and drew out the wooden practice sword he had taken from the dojo.
He weighed it in his hand, then drew in a deep breath.
Under the coat, the muscles in his back tensed like a bow pulled to its limit, tightening until they creaked.
"It doesn't handle like a real blade... but as long as the strength's there, that's enough."
Zaraki's gaze sharpened.
His right arm snapped back, and the motion of the throw alone exploded into a visible white ring in the air.
The instant the wooden sword left his hand, the tree trunk beneath his feet—half a meter thick—burst apart into flying splinters.
"Go."
Zaraki watched the afterimage vanish into the distance, brushed the wood dust from his hands, shifted his footing and leapt away from the shattered trunk.
...
At the docks of Shimotsuki Village, smoke filled the air.
The once peaceful harbor looked like hell.
Several civilian fishing boats had already been blown apart, their wreckage burning on the water.
A battered Marine warship lay crosswise in the harbor, stubbornly blocking the pirate ship's advance.
"Fire! Don't let those beasts come ashore!"
Commander Domon's face was covered in blood, and the standard Marine saber in his hand had already been chipped in several places.
He roared until his voice turned hoarse, while the wounded Marines behind him reloaded mechanically.
'If only Captain Smoker were here—'
The thought flashed through Domon's mind, then a deafening explosion cut it off.
BOOM——!
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