East Blue, Shimotsuki Village.
The Isshin Dojo, Blacksmith's Workshop.
Sephiroth stood bare-chested before the forge. In his left hand, he gripped a tool holding a bar of iron, glowing cherry-red. His right hand swung a hammer, striking the metal in a steady rhythm that sent sparks cascading to the floor.
Kouzaburou sat on a nearby chair, puffing intermittently on his pipe.
After a long while, he finally spoke.
"Proceed to the next step."
At the command, Sephiroth set the hammer down. He drew the edge of his right index finger across his palm. Blood, as if it were water, rushed from the wound and splashed onto the incandescent iron bar. It hissed, boiling away in plumes of white smoke.
The sheer volume of it made Kouzaburou's eyebrow twitch violently.
"That's enough. Your blood isn't free."
"Right."
Sephiroth nodded. The cut on his palm sealed itself shut, the bleeding ceasing instantly.
"Next, temper it in the furnace for a full day. Resume forging tomorrow," Kouzaburou instructed.
"Will this truly increase the odds of forging a Supreme Grade blade?"
"Sacrificing blood to the sword, combined with Ryuo, makes it easier to temper the weapon's will during the process… But swords forged this way often become cursed. Worse, the smith who uses this method is usually left severely weakened, or dead. Long-term blood loss, the mental strain… It's a secret technique with stark costs."
Facing Sephiroth's doubt, Kouzaburou offered a patient explanation.
Some time ago, Genzo had told him about Sephiroth and Kuina.
Unlike his son's anger, Kouzaburou had felt a strange calm—even a secret flicker of relief.
Genzo had inherited the dojo, but not the craft of the forge. That had always been Kouzaburou's regret.
He'd even wondered if he should, while he was still relatively young, hurry up and father a son—a little Kougorou—to pass the techniques to.
But…
He'd dismissed the idea.
It wasn't that he couldn't have more children. It was that even if he did, they might lack the talent for the craft.
That would be even more troublesome.
Before, when Kouzaburou taught Sephiroth, he'd held back. He hadn't passed on the ultimate family secrets. After all, Sephiroth was an outsider. They had the relationship of master and apprentice, but not the title. Kouzaburou had debated it endlessly.
Now, Sephiroth and Kuina were together.
Since he was no longer an outsider, the debate was over.
So, Kouzaburou began teaching Sephiroth his most treasured techniques and secrets in earnest, helping the young man advance his craft without reservation.
A thought seemed to strike Sephiroth. He rubbed his chin lightly.
"Since Ryuo can be used in forging… what about Conqueror's Haki?"
Kouzaburou shook his head, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.
"I can't answer that. I suggest you master the techniques before you should before you chase such nonsense."
*Buru-buru-buru!*
Sephiroth had just picked up a towel to wipe the sweat from his chest when the Marine-issued Den Den Mushi, buried in his pile of clothes, began to ring. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and answered.
"Reporting, Rear Admiral Sephrios. The Marine warship from Marineford, arriving to escort Major Mouse and the others, has just entered the military port."
...
East Blue, Kets Port Town.
Navy 16th Branch, Commander's Office.
Kuro sat in his office chair. He pushed his glasses up with his wrist, his left hand raised while his right flew across the desk, reviewing documents at a blurring speed.
After a long while, he raised his head, numb. A mountain of paperwork towered on his desk.
The pile was so high it blocked his view of the office door entirely.
A flicker of confusion crossed his mind.
Were these really the duties of a newly enlisted Marine Private First Class?
Sephiroth had thrown every officer of Navy Branch 16 into prison. These were department managers, overseeing over twelve hundred soldiers. Their daily tasks and documents had to go somewhere.
So they'd been passed up the chain, landing finally on the Commander's desk.
And then, they all landed with Kuro.
Kuro: (ﾉﾟཀﾟ)ﾉ
Honestly, he couldn't begin to describe his regret.
He never should have gone to sea to become a pirate. Then he wouldn't have been captured by Sephiroth, and he wouldn't be drowning in paperwork all day.
Resistance was impossible. The moment Kuro learned Sephiroth was a monster who could contend with Kaido of the Beasts, he gave up any thought of fighting back.
"Sigh~"
Kuro exhaled softly and buried his head in the documents again.
His only hope now was for Marineford to send replacement officers quickly, so he could escape this purgatory.
*Bang!*
The office door was kicked open. Garp, in a white suit and cradling a bag of senbei, strode inside.
"Sephiroth, you brat! I've come to see you!"
Garp's gaze swept the office. He didn't find who he was looking for.
"Huh? Who are you? Where's Sephiroth?"
Kuro's eye twitched. He stood, pushed his glasses up with his wrist, and spoke with weary politeness.
"Rear Admiral Sephiroth is out on business. You must be Vice Admiral Garp. I am Private First Class Kuro, currently serving as the Rear Admiral's adjutant."
"Oh! I see!"
Garp nodded and dropped casually onto the office sofa. He munched on senbei as he explained his visit.
"I'm escorting Major Mouse and the others… Oh, right! Here's a list of officers from Marineford. Give it to Sephiroth later and have him check it."
He pulled a document from his suit's inner pocket and placed it on the desk.
"Understood. I will deliver it to the Rear Admiral."
Kuro walked to the desk, filed the document, and poured Garp a cup of tea on his way back.
Just then, a crimson line split the air. Space rippled, folding open into a doorway.
Sephiroth stepped out, butcher knife in hand, and greeted the man on the sofa.
"Long time no see, Vice Admiral Garp. Did you really need to personally escort a few prisoners?"
Garp shrugged, still eating.
"Hahaha! The escort's secondary. I really just wanted to go home and see my adorable grandson, Luffy."
"That sounds like you."
Sephiroth slumped into a single sofa with a weak complaint, then ventured casually.
"Speaking of which, I'm curious what your grandson looks like. Could you take me to see him?"
"Of course! But let me tell you—my grandson will be the strongest Marine someday!" Garp declared, as if stating a simple fact.
"Ah, yes, yes. You're absolutely right."
Sephiroth kept agreeing on the surface, but he was secretly muttering in his heart: *Sure he will. The strongest Marine, who's currently dreaming of becoming the Pirate King.*
It's impossible for him to be a Marine. Your grandson is far more likely to become the Pirate King.
Your grandfather is a hero of the Marines. Your son leads the revolutionaries. And your grandson will be the Pirate King. Even the World Government would get a headache just thinking about it!
From now on, the fate of this world's chaos rests in the hands of your Monkey family.
Sephiroth looked at the Marine hero before him, who was steadily munching on senbei, and made his proposal with a spark of eagerness.
"Hey! Old man Garp, care for a spar?"
He wasn't that kid anymore, the one who didn't even know Armament Haki.
Now he wielded a Black Blade and had mastered Haoshoku Haki. He had the capital to stand against any world-class power.
It was time to repay the favor—those two solid weeks Garp had spent pounding him into the dirt.
But…
Garp: (ꈍ﹃ꈍ)zzZZ
Sephiroth: (≖`‸´≖;)
This rotten old man. Had he been up all night eating donuts for days again?
Sigh. Forget it.
I'll find another opportunity to have a good spar with him then...