Evening.
The cold moonlight blanketed the world in silver.
In the village of Shimotsuki, most homes had already gone dark.
Only the dojo halfway up the mountain still echoed with the sharp snap of bamboo swords striking wooden targets.
Snap—!
Snap—!
Snap—!
...
Aboard the dragon-headed ship.
A soft breeze swept across the deck.
A shadow emerged from the darkness.
Ivankov, noticing the movement, looked toward it with an annoyed tone. "You sure took your time, Dragon. Just how long did you expect me to wait?"
"My apologies."
Dragon stepped from the shadows, a small child cradled in his arms.
As he came closer, Ivankov finally saw what he was carrying and frowned. "Who's that?"
The rest of the crew gathered at the sound. When they saw the child, gasps broke out among them.
"He's badly injured!"
"Yeah, it's brutal!"
"Must've been a blast wound—looks like a shell hit him!"
"We need to treat him. Now."
One crew member carefully took the child from Dragon's arms and rushed him toward the infirmary. The others quickly cleared a path.
Watching the boy being carried below deck, Ivankov turned back to Dragon. "Really now, where have you been wandering off to?"
Dragon replied evenly, "I went to observe the World Nobles' celebration."
Ivankov's eyes widened. "You went there—alone? Without telling me?!"
"You'd have drawn too much attention," Dragon said, stepping toward the edge of the ship. He looked out toward the quiet village.
"…Ugh!"
"My face… my face…" Ivankov muttered as he patted his cheeks in distress.
Then Dragon turned to address the gathered crew on deck. "We need to focus our strength immediately. What about food supplies?"
"A dojo in the village gave us some," a man stepped forward and reported.
"Good."
Dragon turned his gaze toward the dojo nestled halfway up the mountainside, then paused—his eyes narrowing as he looked toward the ship's bow.
There, atop the dragon's head figurehead, stood a small boy.
He wore a moon-white robe, a sword hanging at his waist. His silvery-white hair shimmered under the moonlight, and his bright blue eyes, veiled in silver mist, still sparkled with stardust.
Staring into those eyes—brighter than the night sky—Dragon spoke, voice low and serious.
"Who are you?"
"What brings you here?"
From the moment Kouta arrived, his eyes had been fixed on Dragon.
Even cloaked in a deep green coat, Dragon's presence was impossible to miss—that vast, oceanic aura could not be hidden.
As Dragon looked up at him, Kouta saw the red square tattoo on his left cheek and the faint stubble on his chin.
And—oddly enough—no eyebrows.
Kouta smirked. "Nothing much. Just here to see off a friend."
This man… Kouta knew he couldn't beat him. Not yet. Not even one strike.
This wasn't a manga—here, power gaps could mean instant defeat. Even if he wouldn't be hurt, there was no point in provoking a battle he couldn't win.
He turned his attention from Dragon and looked at Ivankov.
"Hey! Little Iva! Planning to leave without saying goodbye?"
Ivankov's eyes softened. "Kouta… you came to see us off?"
"Of course I did."
"Aren't we friends?"
Kouta shouted, "And friends don't just leave without a word, you jerk!"
"I'm sorry."
Ivankov bowed deeply in apology.
"My friend… I wish you smooth sailing. This flower of friendship will bloom again—we'll meet someday, I know it."
As Ivankov straightened, Kouta's voice faded like the echo of a warm breeze. He stood there, deeply moved, tears streaming down his face.
Dragon stood nearby, completely baffled.
It wasn't until Inazuma explained the events of the day that he finally understood.
A boy who could control space… a miraculous power.
Then, Dragon turned and shouted, "Prepare to sail—set course for Baltigo!"
"Aye!"
The ship buzzed with movement.
On the rooftop of the dojo.
Kouta stood quietly.
He gazed out at the sea, lost in thought.
The massive ship had already slipped away under the moonlight, heading toward its destined course.
Far on the horizon, only a tiny black dot remained.
Then, in the blink of an eye—it was gone, as if it had never been there.
Yet the faint echo of Ivankov's weeping still drifted across the waves—a reminder that it had all been real.
Kouta hadn't planned to come. But in the end, he couldn't resist. He had to see it with his own eyes.
Monkey D. Dragon.
Leader of the Revolutionary Army. The World Government's greatest enemy. A man who stood at the very summit of power.
The gap between them… was immense.
Kouta shook his head vigorously.
So what if Dragon stood at the top?
He believed—no, he knew—he would surpass him.
He looked up at the sea. His eyes shimmered with starlight.
If he had glimpsed the peak, then it was time to climb toward it.
Wasn't that the true romance of the One Piece world?
Five years passed like an arrow through time.
From the forest behind the dojo, the clash of blades rang out.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
If you looked closer, you'd see two streaks of white light darting and colliding in a blur of motion.
Now sixteen, Kuina had grown into a graceful young woman. Her long hair was tied back with a red ribbon, and she wore a fitted white training uniform.
Raising her sword above her head, she unleashed a swift slash—silver light flying straight toward Zoro.
Zoro was shirtless, his muscular form on full display. A green bandana wrapped around his head.
Two swords in hand, one clenched in his mouth—he'd truly mastered the Three Sword Style.
With a burst of power, he countered the incoming slash.
"Oni Giri!"
Clang—!
The slash was redirected into the sky, slicing through a flurry of leaves.
Kuina took the chance to sheath her sword, then launched herself forward with a sharp thump of her feet.
"Soru: Iai Slash!"
Zoro barely had time to cross his blades in defense.
Clang!
The force of the strike sent him flying, crashing into a massive tree with a heavy thud.
Kuina spun her blade in a graceful flourish, sheathing it with a crisp click.
Then came Kouta's voice from the sidelines. "Point. That's it. Winner: Kuina. 10,000 wins—zero losses."
At the sound of his voice, Kuina turned, the cold expression on her face melting into a radiant smile.
She walked briskly to Kouta's side, her eyes glowing.
Now seventeen, Kouta no longer bore any trace of the boy he once was. His features had sharpened with time, but his gentle smile remained. In his bright blue eyes, silver mist still swirled.
Tall and well-built—standing at 190 cm—he wore a moon-white robe. At his side hung his blade, Zankū, and a gourd of sake.
In the pirate world, not drinking was practically a crime.
The seas were too vast. Fresh water couldn't be stored for long. Every ship carried low-proof rum—and the demand was so high that it was found on nearly every island.
As Kuina approached, Kouta lifted the pink kimono draped over his arm and gently placed it over her shoulders.
The kimono, embroidered with white blossoms, looked exquisite on Kuina's 170 cm frame.
Her eyes softened as she watched Kouta tie the sash at her waist. "Kouta, Father and the others are waiting at the port."
"Right."
He looked up, their eyes meeting. A glimmer of tenderness passed between them as he gently wiped the sweat from her brow.
"We should say goodbye to Zoro before we leave."
Kuina pulled his hand to her chest, holding it close.
Feeling the warmth of her embrace, Kouta couldn't help but chuckle wryly to himself.
In the end, he'd become the very thing he once despised (and secretly desired)—he'd raised her into the woman he loved.
Turning to Zoro, he teased, "Another loss, huh? And you've really gotten strong too."
Zoro remained calm, unfazed by the jab. He could tell his physical strength had already surpassed Kuina's. Only his technique lagged slightly behind. It wouldn't be long before he overtook her.
But Kouta… was on a different level entirely. He couldn't even see where the peak was.
Zoro had hoped to witness Kouta's true strength before he left.
But Kouta had insisted Zoro fight Kuina instead—one final match.
Now he had a new record: 10,000 defeats.
Zoro sighed. "Happy now? Can I finally see what you're really capable of?"
"Alright. I'll show you."
Kouta glanced at Kuina. She nodded and stepped aside.
He placed his left hand on Zankū's hilt and walked into the clearing.
With each step, a whirlwind spiraled around him, scattering fallen leaves.
He stopped in the center, body low, eyes fixed on the clouds.
His right hand gripped the hilt. Black-purple Haki coiled around the blade.
And then—
A single, explosive slash.
"Divine Severance!"
The world fell still.
He rose, sheathed his blade with a quiet ding—as if he had never moved.
A beat later, a purple-black arc cleaved upward, cutting through the clouds above.
A storm roared to life. At the port, Koushiro and the others looked skyward.
Crack—!
The sky itself split open. Thunder roared, and clouds flowed like rivers into the rift.
Everyone stared in stunned silence.
"Did the sky just… tear open? Is this the end of the world?"
Iku turned to Koushiro, eyes wide. "That was Kouta, wasn't it?"
"…Yes," Koushiro said without looking. "He's grown this much already…"
Zoro stood frozen, the image burned into his mind.
Then Kouta shouted across the clearing, recalling Mihawk's words:
"Zoro! See yourself clearly. Know the world. Grow stronger! Surpass this blade—surpass me, and you'll become the world's greatest swordsman!"
Zoro snapped out of it, eyes blazing.
"You better stay at the top. I won't lose again—wait for me. I'll stand before you one day."
He didn't doubt Kouta could reach the top—just as he never doubted his own dream of becoming the strongest.
"Good."
Kouta smiled and turned, walking with Kuina toward the port.
If Kuina hadn't died, would Zoro have become the Roronoa Zoro we know?
He didn't know. But the promise made today—he believed Zoro would fulfill it.
Because he was Zoro.
Once he set his sights on a goal, he never strayed.
*********
Hey everyone! I'll be dropping an extra 1 chapter once we hit 100, 200, 300 power stones! If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to spend some power stones. I'd really appreciate the support. Thanks a bunch!