Chapter 8 – He's Still Too Weak!
"Mist Breathing—Drifting Slash!"
That strike from Tsugikuni Yoriichi was sharp enough to sever the neck of any Upper Moon with ease.
Even Kibutsuji Muzan himself—had he stood before it—could have done nothing but kneel and await death.
The bamboo sword carried a terrifying force as it swept toward Zephyr.
Clack!
The two bamboo blades collided with a crisp sound.
Zephyr raised his sword and, with effortless precision, blocked Yoriichi's horizontal slash.
"Heh! Not bad, kid—interesting attack!"
With an easy grin, Zephyr tilted his head slightly, looking genuinely amused.
Yoriichi's technique, though performed with a bamboo sword, was still the Mist Breathing style—a form that had once dominated the Demon Slayer world.
Yet now, his blow had been stopped as if it were nothing.
Seeing how casually Zephyr stood there, Yoriichi understood at once—there was a vast gulf of power between them.
So… against someone of this level, a probing strike means nothing.
I'll have to go all out from the very start.
"Fuu…"
Still locked in a clash of blades, Yoriichi exhaled slowly. Every muscle in his body tightened in unison. Then, with a deft twist of his wrist, he redirected Zephyr's force, braced his legs against the floor, and slipped forward in an instant.
Sun Breathing—Third Form: Raging Sun!
In the moment he closed the distance, Yoriichi reversed his grip and brought the bamboo sword up in a blazing arc. Though made of wood, the weapon now seemed wreathed in roaring flame.
"What a ferocious sword technique!"
Zephyr's eyes widened slightly as the fiery strike descended toward his neck—but instead of evading, he extended his left hand and caught Yoriichi's sword.
"—What?!"
Yoriichi froze for a fraction of a second.
He'd anticipated Zephyr might dodge, or counter with a parry—but to grab the blade directly with his bare hand? That, he hadn't foreseen.
And Zephyr was fast. Too fast for him to react.
Even though it was only bamboo, empowered by Yoriichi's technique the strike had enough force to shatter flesh and bone. Yet Zephyr had caught it—barehanded.
Through the Transparent World, Yoriichi could see a concentrated flow of "energy" enveloping Zephyr's hand. As he suspected, it was Haki.
"Kid, you're getting distracted!"
Zephyr barked, and in the same instant, his right hand—still holding the bamboo sword—shot forward. But he didn't swing the weapon. He punched.
That massive, boulder-sized fist came straight at Yoriichi's face. With no time to parry, Yoriichi leapt upward, using the momentum of Zephyr's grip to pivot and counterattack midair with a sharp kick toward Zephyr's head.
"Heh heh heh…"
Zephyr merely chuckled. He didn't dodge—he took the kick head-on.
Yoriichi released the bamboo sword immediately, using the recoil to vault backward through the air and land several meters away.
When he touched down, one hand pressed against the floor, his gaze fixed silently on Zephyr—who now held Yoriichi's bamboo sword.
In a single exchange, he had been disarmed.
Perhaps Zephyr's move had been a little underhanded, but even so—his strength was undeniable.
It far surpassed that of any swordsman or demon Yoriichi had ever faced.
They were, simply put, on entirely different planes of power.
"Yoriichi," Zephyr called out, tossing the bamboo sword back to him, "that slash just now—how much strength did you use?"
"Everything I had."
Yoriichi caught the sword and answered plainly. Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward, bamboo sword raised, and charged once more.
This time, he didn't employ any special forms—no Breathing techniques, no ornamentation.
Just pure speed and precision.
Each strike came faster than the last—slashes, thrusts, feints—all performed at the peak of what his body could endure.
In an instant, Zephyr's front was covered in a storm of afterimages.
Yoriichi's attacks weren't random—every cut was aimed at a "weak point" revealed through the Transparent World.
But the moment his blade descended, those weak points vanished. Zephyr's bamboo sword intercepted each attack precisely, erasing every opening as if he knew where Yoriichi would strike before the strike even began.
The vast dojo echoed with the rapid tack-tack-tack of bamboo meeting bamboo.
Under Yoriichi's relentless storm of blows, Zephyr remained calm, even relaxed—occasionally nodding in approval as he countered.
"Mm. Not bad."
"The angles of your strikes are sharp—clever, even. In pure swordsmanship, I might actually lose to you."
"Of course, the flaws are obvious too," Zephyr said lightly, the corners of his mouth curling upward. "You've got too little strength, and your speed's too slow. You might handle small-time pirates just fine—"
"—but if you run into someone stronger, you won't stand a chance."
As he spoke, Zephyr—who had been calmly parrying all along—suddenly exerted force. With a single precise swing, his bamboo sword struck Yoriichi's blade dead-on.
A terrifying surge of power poured through the impact.
Yoriichi's wrist trembled, and before he could react, his bamboo sword was sent flying.
The weapon spun through the air several times before slamming into the far wall. With a thunderous crack, it punched a hole straight through the wooden paneling.
"…"
Yoriichi turned his head to look at the hole—about the size of a washbasin—and fell silent.
He had heard Zephyr's earlier comments loud and clear.
He just didn't quite understand what the man meant by "too slow" or "too weak."
After all, the "weak" strength Zephyr mentioned could easily lift the leg of a full-grown tiger, and the "slow" speed he referred to was what Yoriichi had used to swing his sword hundreds of times in a single breath.
Zephyr, meanwhile, looked completely unfazed. Smiling, he strolled over to Yoriichi, gave his shoulder a friendly pat, and said cheerfully,
"Kid, you've still got a long road ahead of you."
"Too weak—far too weak."
"You'd better train hard from now on. No slacking off!"
He burst into hearty laughter, his booming voice echoing through the dojo.
Just then, the doors of the hall slid open, and a young marine in uniform came rushing in. Seeing Zephyr inside, he hurriedly called out:
"Zephyr-sensei! What happened just now?! A bamboo sword suddenly—"
Before he could finish, Zephyr waved him off with a grin.
"Oh, Victor! It's nothing, nothing."
"Just playing around with my disciple, that's all."
"Come on, I'll introduce you. This kid's Tsugikuni Yoriichi—my student."
"Yoriichi, this is Victor, the swordsmanship instructor here at the academy."
Zephyr laughed as he made the introductions, and Yoriichi nodded politely in greeting.
But Victor froze for a moment, his brow twitching slightly as his eyes drifted toward the hole in the wall.
Zephyr might not have noticed—but Victor had.
The bamboo sword had flown right past his face before crashing into a huge blue stone outside. The stone had split clean in half, and the bamboo sword itself had shattered to splinters.
Just a few inches closer… and Zephyr's little "play" session would've sent him to the afterlife.
Even now, Victor felt a cold sweat down his back.
If that thing had hit me, my family would be collecting my pension right now!
"Zephyr-sensei, please… maybe don't 'play' around like that next time…" Victor muttered under his breath.
But his gaze soon shifted toward the boy standing beside Zephyr.
He didn't know this Yoriichi kid—only the upper brass knew that Garp had brought him back. As a sword instructor, Victor had little time for gossip.
Still, that flying bamboo sword was proof enough: whoever Zephyr's new disciple was, he wasn't ordinary.
Victor knew Zephyr's strength well—playing around for him could level a building.
And yet this child… had held up against him.
"Sensei," Victor ventured, "is your new student planning to enroll in the academy?"
"Enroll?" Zephyr blinked, then laughed. "Ah, no need for that—you couldn't teach him anyth—uh, I mean, I'll handle his training myself."
"He's still young, still too weak. We'll wait till later. Hahaha!"
Zephyr clapped Yoriichi on the shoulder again, still laughing heartily.
Victor's cheek twitched slightly at the phrase 'too weak'. His eyes drifted back once more to the gaping hole in the wall. He could already imagine what must have happened inside.
But since Zephyr had said nothing more, Victor simply nodded, gave a salute, and left the dojo quietly.
"Come on, Yoriichi," Zephyr said once they were alone again. "Let's go test your Doriki."
"Once I know roughly where you stand, I can put together a proper training plan for you."
With that, Zephyr led Yoriichi out of the dojo.