"Since you've crossed the Roger Pirates…"
Rayleigh smiled faintly, raising his longsword and pointing it toward the Marines.
"…then don't think you'll be leaving here unharmed!"
"Everyone—attack! Crush them!"
The moment his words fell, a roar of excitement swept through the Roger Pirates. Weapons were drawn, laughter rang out, and the crew surged forward in a wild charge against the Marines.
But not everyone leapt into the fray right away. Rayleigh and Bullet stayed behind, their gazes calm, assessing the battlefield like wolves waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
"That one's mine!"
"Oraaahhh!"
Oden was the first to move.
With Roger and Garp battling fiercely in the distance—an exchange of monstrous power that no one else could hope to interrupt—Oden's eyes instead locked onto a different opponent: the young Marine officer standing quietly nearby, long blade in hand—Bogard.
Although Oden's own swords had been confiscated and tossed back aboard the Marine ship by Garp, he showed no interest in retrieving them. The instant he sensed Bogard's strength, his warrior blood boiled over.
He charged in barehanded.
In a blur, Oden closed the distance, Haki surging around his fist as he drove it straight toward Bogard's face.
Bogard managed to raise his sword just in time to block, but the impact sent him flying backward like a ragdoll. His body hit the ice with a thunderous crack before sliding across its fractured surface.
The entire sequence happened so fast that Yoriichi Tsugikuni, watching from nearby, caught every detail through his Transparent World.
And what he saw made his crimson eyes light up in sudden realization.
"Haki… flowing like Sakura."
"So that's it. That's how Haki moves."
"I understand now!"
In that instant, Yoriichi finally grasped the secret behind Oden's strike.
Through his extraordinary vision, he could see it—the armament coating Oden's fist wasn't still, but flowing, circulating like a living current.
Before this moment, Yoriichi had never seen anyone use Haki in such a way. When he sparred with Garp, the old hero had deliberately restrained himself, his Armament Haki fixed solidly around his fists—static, unmoving, safe.
Aokiji, too—his Haki was stagnant, weak and shallow compared to his ice powers.
But Oden's Haki was alive.
In Wano, they called this technique Ryuo—the Flowing Sakura. In essence, it was the same as Armament Haki, merely known by another name.
However, outside Wano, most people only used Haki by condensing it onto their weapons or limbs—static, simple, incomplete.
They could strengthen their attacks, yes, but they couldn't unleash the true might of Haki.
In Wano, however, warriors trained to let their Haki flow—to release it from within, to send it coursing through and beyond their bodies.
When used this way, it not only struck harder—it could even hit from a distance, without direct contact.
The secret behind a "flying slash" lay precisely in this—flowing Haki.
What most called a "flying slash" was not just air pressure or strength; it was the controlled flow of Armament Haki leaving the blade. Just like Roger's Divine Departure—his "Shinpi"—which was nothing more than a supreme application of flowing Haki.
Yoriichi had long known, in theory, that Armament Haki could be used in two distinct ways: solid and flowing. But knowing was one thing—seeing it was another.
He had tried to grasp it before, to sense the elusive rhythm of flow, but every attempt had ended in failure. His focus had always been on expanding his Haki coverage, spreading it wider and thicker across his weapon, not on understanding its movement.
But after watching Roger and Garp's distant clash—those invisible blows that split the sea—he had begun to wonder if their secret lay in letting their Haki flow.
He hadn't had time to study it then.
Yet now, watching Oden's strike with his transparent vision, everything became clear.
His heart raced. His eyes shone.
He could see the flow itself.
Not just sense it—see it.
While others, like Luffy in the future, would need to feel the flow through endless trial and instinct, Yoriichi possessed eyes that laid bare the very structure of power itself.
He could observe Haki's movement as plainly as one might see a river running through glass.
Meanwhile, Bogard, thrown back by Oden's punch, twisted midair and landed hard, skidding across the fractured ice. He steadied himself with a sharp spin, his boots scraping violently against the frozen ground before he regained balance.
Oden didn't pause for even a breath.
He struck down two nearby Marines with his bare hands, then snatched their blades from their grasp, one in each hand. With renewed fire, he stomped down hard, propelling himself like a cannonball straight toward Bogard.
Bogard's own Haki was formidable, and his swordsmanship sharp—but against Oden, he was utterly outmatched. Within moments, Oden's relentless strikes had him pinned down, forced into desperate defense.
Elsewhere, Scopper Gaban locked eyes with Aokiji, grinning fiercely as he brandished his twin axes. With a loud battle cry, he leapt into combat, swinging for the Marine's head.
The Mink retainers, Inuarashi and Nekomamushi, rushed to support Oden, taking up guard positions at his flanks—though, truth be told, Oden hardly needed protection.
Meanwhile, the once-frozen Elio and others, having thawed and recovered, rejoined the fray, their weapons clashing fiercely with the Marines'.
Amid the chaos, only one figure stood untouched.
Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
None of the Roger Pirates moved to attack him. Perhaps they thought he was just a child—too young, too slight to be a threat.
If only they knew.
If only they could see the faint red flame igniting behind his calm eyes—
the flame of understanding.
Just as Yoriichi was about to move in to aid a nearby Marine who was locked in combat, Buggy suddenly came charging at him, utterly fearless, dagger in hand, thrusting straight for Yoriichi's chest.
And with him—Shanks.
The two apprentice pirates, both around Yoriichi's age, had chosen him as their target.
Compared to Buggy's wild aggression, Shanks' strike was far gentler. He slashed toward Yoriichi's back—not to kill, but merely to disable him.
But their movements were far too slow. In Yoriichi's eyes, these two future Emperors of the Sea were laughably weak.
Their attacks, clumsy and sluggish, seemed no faster than a turtle's crawl. Blows like those might be enough to trouble a young Blackbeard someday, but against him? They were nothing.
Yoriichi's crimson eyes flashed coldly as he raised his blade ever so slightly. Since Shanks hadn't gone for the kill, Yoriichi decided he would help him "stake his left arm on the new era."
As for Buggy—who had aimed straight for his heart—there was nothing to discuss.
Flames erupted along the black blade Dawnbreaker. The obsidian steel turned molten red as Haki surged around it, and with a single, merciless motion, Yoriichi swung down at Buggy's neck.
At the same instant, his body turned—ready so that as Buggy's head fell, his follow-through could neatly "settle Shanks' wager" as well.
"My, my!"
"Such bloodlust in one so young!"
"Buggy, Shanks—you've picked the wrong opponent!"
A calm, amused voice rang out.
Just as Yoriichi's flaming blade was about to cleave Buggy's neck, Rayleigh—who had been observing from the sidelines—suddenly stepped between them. His sword intercepted Yoriichi's killing strike with a sharp clang!
The edge halted a mere hair's breadth—barely a fraction of a millimeter—from Buggy's throat.
Yoriichi's expression didn't change. In one fluid motion, he drew his sword back and spun around, slashing toward Shanks, whose attack was already upon him. If he didn't counter, he'd be hit.
His motion was lightning-fast—so fast that Rayleigh's pupils contracted in surprise. He hadn't expected Yoriichi to ignore him, the greater threat, and instead go for Shanks.
Alarmed, Rayleigh lunged, reaching out to seize Yoriichi by the collar before he could swing.
But before his hand could close, Yoriichi leapt, springing upward out of both their reach. Twisting midair, he flipped clean over Rayleigh's head—and using the momentum of his rotation, he brought his flaming blade down toward the man's back.
Sun Breathing — Fifth Form: Flame Train!
This time, the Haki coating Yoriichi's sword flowed, rippling along the blade instead of remaining static as before.
A technique he had only witnessed a few seconds ago—now fully executed in combat.
"A feint, is it? Your real target… is me."
"Well calculated."
"Such splendid swordplay."
"But still… too young."
Rayleigh chuckled softly, tilting his head aside. In the same instant, he spun around and caught the descending sword between two fingers—his thumb and forefinger alone.
Clang!
A piercing metallic ring split the air. The Haki surrounding Yoriichi's sword shattered instantly, the devastating slash losing all power as Rayleigh's grip stopped it cold.
With a flick of his wrist, Rayleigh tossed the sword aside—sending both blade and wielder crashing across the icy battlefield.
Yoriichi's body struck the frozen ground, rolling several times before sliding to a stop.
Slowly, he rose, gripping his sword tightly. His brows furrowed.
"So even flowing Haki… still isn't strong enough."
He murmured the words quietly to himself.
Rayleigh looked down at his hand—two shallow cuts tracing across his thumb and forefinger.
And yet, instead of anger, his eyes shone with admiration.
(End of Chapter)
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