Chapter 79: The Sinner Who Failed Twice
Inside the shattered top floor of the Morel Black Tower, the scarred old man and Dragon had been discussing the Emperor's fleet when the impossible happened.
A force of pure will—domineering—descended from nowhere. It split the old man's desk cleanly in two. The force continued downward, through floor after floor, and the invincible tower collapsed.
The scarred man's eyes went wide. Dragon's expression shifted to one of raw astonishment.
"That old man..."
"He found someone. Someone who passed his test."
Dragon moved instinctively, his power rising to hold the crumbling structure together. His free arm caught the secretary before she could fall. Wind roared from all directions, pushing against the collapsing stone, buying time.
He focused—trying to see who had passed.
A light emerged from the tower's foundation. Emerald green. Pulsing with life older than memory. It rose, breaching the wreckage, and shot toward the trading fair like a shooting star in reverse.
"The fruit was inside the tower the whole time!" The scarred man's voice cracked with revelation. "He built it with his own hands—he must have sealed it inside during construction!"
He slammed his hook against the debris.
"KUZUKI CHIDŌ! That man used his clan's forging ability to hide it in plain sight!"
Dragon watched the emerald light arc across the sky. He remembered, suddenly, the old man's words after he had failed the second test:
"I am a man who has failed twice. I have committed two unforgivable sins. So I must find someone wholly worthy to carry this fate."
And there were the rumors. The whispers that the ancient weapon Pluton still existed—hidden somewhere in Wano Country. And that to access it, one needed a key.
Dragon launched himself toward the tower's shattered apex. A wall of invisible force slammed him back. He tried again—and was hurled into the wreckage.
He and the scarred man spoke at once.
"A repulsion field?!"
"How is this possible?! He doesn't have that fruit's power—not anymore!"
The scarred man's hook fumbled for the controls that would activate the tower's observation mirrors. They were dead. The tower was dead.
"He's been waiting fifty years," Dragon murmured. "And now..."
Below, Itachi watched the emerald fruit arc across the sky and descend into the crooked old man's waiting hand.
The old man landed. His body trembled with the effort, but his eyes—those black jewel eyes—held steady.
Itachi's questions crowded his throat.
"Old man—what fate does this fruit carry?"
The old man didn't answer.
Instead, he raised the fruit in one hand. His other hand—five fingers like withered branches—pointed at Itachi.
A field of invisible force snapped around Itachi. Air tore. Space compressed.
"It is the old tree that stands for a hundred years, unbowed by wind."
The old man's voice grew stronger, resonating with something ancient.
"It is the pine forest on the distant mountain, enduring snow and storm."
"It is the root that reaches to the sea floor, drawing life from the deep."
"It is the seed of all things. The germ of all hope."
His hand thrust forward.
Itachi's chest burst open.
Blood sprayed.
Before the pain could register—before his body could even understand what had happened—the emerald fruit entered his wound.
It grew.
Woody tissue exploded from the opening, weaving, binding, healing. New flesh replaced torn flesh. New skin sealed over new bone. In seconds, the wound was gone—and beneath it, something lived.
Itachi stood, gasping, hand pressed to his chest. He could feel it. A seed. Growing.
The crooked old man before him aged.
It was visible—years falling away like sand, his remaining vitality draining. His skin wrinkled further. His bones seemed to shrink. He was a rotten tree, its last leaves scattering.
"The Spirit of the Tree World," he whispered, "is more than the Root Fruit's power. The seed will grow within you. As you use it, you will feel it strengthen."
He met Itachi's eyes.
"It has chosen you. You are its new keeper."
His knees buckled. He kneeled—a broken thing, a dying thing, a man who had waited fifty years for this moment.
"I am a man who failed twice. I am the cause of two unforgivable sins."
He pressed his forehead to the ground.
"Forgive me. I entrust everything to you."
The repulsion field vanished.
Itachi lunged forward, grabbing the old man's shoulders. He was shocked by how light he was—bird bones, hollow, barely there.
"Old man! What does this mean?! What are you entrusting?!"
The old man laughed—a sound like dry leaves skittering across stone.
"Your Excellency Itachi... do not worry."
His eyes—fading now, the jewel-light dimming—held Itachi's gaze.
"Even if I had not given you this burden, you and your companions would have been bound to what is coming. Fate does not determine a person's path—but a person's path determines their fate."
He fumbled at his robes, producing a black metal token. It was warm, heavy, ancient.
"If you ever reach Wano Country... please, two private matters."
Itachi's mind raced. Wano. He'd heard Robin and Brook speak of it—a closed country, a land of samurai.
"My surname is Kozuki."
Itachi's eyes widened.
"Take this token. My descendants will know its authority."
He pressed the token into Itachi's hand.
"My private matters are separate from the fate I have given you. They are my own requests—my own sins to unburden."
His voice grew fainter.
"First—if you can... inherit the Kozuki clan's forging ability. It has been passed down for generations. Now it is nearly extinct. This token will lead you to what remains."
Itachi stared at the token.
"Second—"
The old man's voice sharpened. His eyes blazed with one last ember of life.
"WHEN YOU REACH WANO—USE THIS TOKEN!"
His clawed hand gripped Itachi's arm.
"STRIP THE KOZUKI CLAN OF THEIR STATUS! FREE THEM FROM THE NAME! LET THEM BECOME ORDINARY PEOPLE!"
He was shouting now, decades of rage pouring out.
"IF ANY OF THEM OBJECT—KILL THEM! KILL THOSE FOOLS WHO LET THEIR PRIDE ENSLAVE THEIR PEOPLE! WHO LET WANO BECOME WHAT IT IS NOW!"
He collapsed.
Itachi caught him. Held him.
The old man's breath was shallow, his eyes closed, his body utterly spent.
"Old man..."
The emerald light within Itachi's chest pulsed once—warm, patient, alive.
The token in his hand seemed to weigh more than the world.
Above them, the shattered tower groaned. People were shouting, running, screaming.
But in this corner, behind the auction house, there was only silence.
And an old man who had waited fifty years for someone to pass his test.
(End of Chapter)
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