Chapter 7 - 7: Unknown Sword Style: Mist

Words : 1460 Updated : Sep 10th, 2025

"Yoriichi, the entrance requirements for the Navy Academy are no joke." "Only those with a Dōriki score of 80 or above are even eligible to study and train here." "Do you know what that means? The average adult male, even with some training, barely reaches a Dōriki of 10!" "A Dōriki of 80? For an ordinary person, that's practically superhuman!" As he spoke, Zephyr couldn't help but puff out his chest in pride, laughing heartily. Though he was a seasoned former admiral, the moment he talked about his students and the academy, he became like a child boasting about his report card—his face lit up with joy and enthusiasm. "Come on, come on! Let me show you around!" With that, Zephyr led Yoriichi to the edge of the drill grounds. As they gazed out over the sprawling campus, he began his tour with gusto. "See over there? That's the firing range. Every cadet who trains there walks out a sharpshooter!" "And that field over there—it's for hand-to-hand combat drills. Our grads? Every one of them a master of martial arts!" "And that building there is the Dōjō, where sword instructors give lessons. Cadets from there—" Before Zephyr could finish, Yoriichi cut in with a gleam in his eye, "All become master swordsmen?" Zephyr, who had been proudly rattling off features like a salesman pitching a dream, suddenly choked mid-sentence. He scratched his chin, a bit embarrassed. "Well… not quite master swordsmen…" But in the very next breath, he grinned again and declared: "—But they do all lay a solid foundation to become one!" "Hahahahaha!" Zephyr roared with laughter. Yoriichi gave him a sidelong glance, mildly amused. This was the first time he'd realized Zephyr had such a boastful streak. If he hadn't had at least a rough idea of how power levels worked in this world, he might've actually bought into the picture Zephyr was painting. Master swordsmen? There were only a handful of true masters in the whole world! As far as Yoriichi knew, there might not be anyone in the Navy who could rightfully claim that title. But strangely enough, he didn't mind Zephyr's exaggerations one bit. The way this proud middle-aged man, so full of belonging and devotion to the Navy, described a brilliant future to a young boy with dreams—it stirred something in Yoriichi, something like peace. A peace he had never once known in the Demon Slayer world. Even after Yoriichi interrupted, Zephyr continued his tour with the same enthusiasm, animatedly introducing everything about the Navy Academy. His eyes sparkled with a kind of youthful fervor that momentarily made Yoriichi lose focus. After listening for some time, and sensing Zephyr was starting to wind down, Yoriichi pointed toward the sword training hall Zephyr had mentioned earlier. "Teacher Zephyr, could we go take a look at that Dōjō?" Hearing the request, Zephyr looked down at the boy beside him. Spotting the long blade in Yoriichi's hand, he nodded with a warm smile. "Of course! Let's go!" "Perfect timing, too. You can get your Dōriki tested there." "I've been curious myself—just what kind of kid did Garp bring back to Marineford personally?" As he spoke, the two made their way across the training ground toward the distant Dōjō. Their tall and small figures walking side by side drew the attention of several cadets mid-training. "Hey! Who's that kid walking with Instructor Zephyr? Never seen him before." "Relative, maybe? Or a new recruit?" "Idiot, Instructor Zephyr doesn't have any family! And we're way past the enrollment period. Besides, that kid's just a little runt!" Zephyr ignored the murmurs of the students and led Yoriichi straight to the front of the Dōjō. From a distance, the training hall hadn't looked particularly large—but up close, Yoriichi realized just how wrong his impression had been. The building before him stretched across what must've been several thousand square meters. After removing their shoes and stepping inside, he took in the vast interior. All around the perimeter, at the base of the walls, stood long wooden racks. And on those racks? Row after row of bamboo swords—easily over a thousand. This was a modified Japanese-style dojo, architecturally reimagined with a touch of bold ingenuity. Support pillars ran in precise symmetry, dividing the cavernous hall into smaller practice zones—each perhaps a few dozen square meters in size. This place could easily accommodate over three hundred people training at once. Yoriichi couldn't remember how many years it had been since he last set foot in a dojo like this. Ever since he left the Tsugikuni household and began hunting demons, such places had faded from his life entirely. Now, standing here, looking at this place—both unfamiliar and familiar—he found himself momentarily lost in thought. Zephyr mistook Yoriichi's daze for awe at the sheer scale of the facility. A flicker of pride crossed the old instructor's face. Casually, he reached over and grabbed a bamboo sword from a nearby rack, then stepped into the center of the floor. With a sudden grin, he called out: "Yoriichi—feel like sparring?" "I heard from Garp you've got some skill with the blade!" "My own swordsmanship is nothing special, but I can still put up a decent fight. So? Want to give it a go?" Zephyr's words pulled Yoriichi back to the present. Seeing the older man's interest, Yoriichi nodded, more than willing to oblige. Truth be told, since arriving in this world, he hadn't yet developed a clear sense of his current strength. On that island, he had felled a giant beast with ease—but Yoriichi knew well that killing a monster like that was no real benchmark of power. He vaguely remembered how even Luffy, fresh out to sea, could take down a Sea King without breaking a sweat. The second time he drew his blade, it was against Garp—and he had been floored by a single punch. The third time was during the assault on that pirate ship. Based on Garp's evaluation, Yoriichi's strength was supposedly on par with that of a Marine officer. But such a title was far too vague to define his true capability. Officer? The difference between a powerful colonel and a weak major could be as vast as heaven and earth! Even among colonels of the same rank, there was a world of disparity in strength. Believe it or not—both Smoker and Monka hold the rank of colonel. Yes, that Monka—the one dubbed the "Axe King" who once claimed to have felled the hero Garp with a single swing. Moreover, during that pirate purge, Yoriichi hadn't even gone all out. "Sparring with Master Zephyr," Yoriichi thought, "should give me a clearer understanding of where I currently stand in this world." "At the very least, he won't one-shot me like Vice Admiral Garp did… right?" With that thought, Yoriichi gently leaned his katana against the wall, casually picked up a bamboo sword, and strode toward Zephyr. Without any needless chatter, he raised the blade in both hands and declared firmly: "Sensei, I will go all out. Please be on guard." Hearing this, Zephyr let out a light laugh, gripping his bamboo sword with one hand. "Then come at me!" As his voice fell, Yoriichi took a breath—and in that instant, his entire aura transformed. If, just a moment ago, he had been like a placid lake, indistinguishable from an ordinary youth—now, he had become a surging tide, a storm of overwhelming presence. The force radiating from him was something no boy his age should have been capable of producing. And standing before him—sword raised in a ready stance—was Zephyr. But in Yoriichi's Transparent World, the seasoned warrior's form was riddled with vulnerabilities. "Hm?!" Zephyr narrowed his eyes as he felt Yoriichi's presence shift dramatically. Instinctively, he brought his blade up from its relaxed, downward position to guard before his chest. In the next heartbeat—Yoriichi vanished. A strange mist rose through the dojo, swirling in an ethereal haze. Within the span of two breaths, the entire hall was engulfed in a dreamlike fog. "What the hell is this?!" "A Devil Fruit ability?!" "Garp never mentioned this kid had powers like this!" "No… no, this doesn't feel like a Devil Fruit..." "Is it… just swordsmanship?" Zephyr activated his Observation Haki, brows knitting with uncertainty as he muttered internally. Then, in the very next second, Yoriichi's figure flashed out from the mist—appearing suddenly on Zephyr's right flank. With a swift motion, his bamboo blade came sweeping in low, aimed at Zephyr's abdomen. "Mist Breathing Fourth Form: : Shifting Flow Slash!"

Chapter 7 - 7: Unknown Sword Style: Mist

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