As Teach neared the small temple at the foot of the mountain, its heavy doors creaked open. A tall man stepped out, face hidden behind a crimson tengu mask. His presence was sharp, almost cutting.
"Who are you? What business do you have here?" Tenguyama Hitetsu's voice was cold.
Teach didn't bristle. Instead, he grinned and held up two folded letters. "Marshall D. Teach. I come with introductions from Oden and Shimotsuki Yasuie. I'd like you to reforge my swords."
Hitetsu took the letters, examining the handwriting carefully. At length, his posture eased. The edge in his voice dulled.
"So you're a friend of Lord Oden and Lord Yasuie. Very well...come in." He turned and led Teach inside.
The temple was humble; a front chamber where Hitetsu lived, and a second chamber carved into the hollow of the giant tree, its heat unmistakable, the forge.
The decor was sparse, but it carried the scent of ash and iron.
Hitetsu poured tea and set it before Teach. "Let's see the swords and materials."
Teach placed three blades on the floorboards.
First, Purgatory and Thunder Fang. Last, his favored greatsword, Dragon Abyss, alongside rare materials he had collected; thunderstone, the crimson iron gifted by Genryusai, and other minerals scavenged over time.
Hitetsu's masked gaze lingered on the blades. Even after forging countless weapons, he could not hide his intrigue. His fingers hovered over the thunderstone and crimson iron.
"This one…" He picked up Purgatory, tracing its grain. "Forged in Wano. I can see the craftsmanship."
Teach nodded. "Purgatory. I want it reforged with crimson iron, heavier, harder. Thunder Fang, reforged with thunderstone. I'll leave the exact process to you."
Hitetsu's silence stretched.
Then, slowly, he nodded. "Crimson iron… thunderstone… rarities even I've never touched. With such ores, these blades will surpass even their current forms." His voice grew low, almost reverent. "To forge such swords once more… it stirs my spirit."
Teach smiled. "Good to hear. And what of this one?" He laid a hand on Dragon Abyss, his most familiar companion. "I found it in the ruins of a fallen kingdom. It's been with me the longest. The surface has dulled, but I don't want it reforged, only restored."
Hitetsu examined it carefully. The deep-blue blade and dark-purple hilt glimmered faintly. His eyes brightened. "Exquisite. Deep-sea meteor iron, tempered by centuries of oceanic pressure. And purple-gold ore, another meteorite. This is the work of a master. It needs no reforging. I will only polish it to restore its brilliance."
"That's all I ask," Teach said, satisfied.
Hitetsu stood, carrying the blades toward the forge. "Half a month. The polishing will take days, but reforging Thunder Fang and Purgatory will demand longer. Reforging is more dangerous than creation, one misstep, and they shatter. But I will succeed."
The forge's heat surged as the door opened, waves of firelight spilling into the room. Hitetsu vanished inside, his heart already alight with anticipation.
Teach exhaled, amused. "Ignored, just like that," he muttered with a grin. Then his eyes sharpened. He still had another mission ahead.
Far away, in the Flower Capital, word of Shimotsuki Yasuie's banquet spread swiftly. Specially trained birds carried invitations to each daimyo and even to Orochi himself.
When the letter reached the shogun's chambers, Orochi's face twisted with rage. He crumpled the paper, shredded it, and scattered the pieces.
"Mockery! They dare invite me?!" Orochi hissed, pacing like a cornered snake.
A trembling retainer fell to his knees. "But, my lord, these are invitations from the daimyo… if we refuse—"
Orochi's glare cut him off. His shadow stretched across the wall, morphing into the writhing heads of a serpent. Eight pairs of eyes glowed, fangs bared. The terrified man broke into a cold sweat.
"I am busy with affairs of state," one serpent head hissed in Orochi's voice. "Tell them I cannot attend."
The retainer scrambled away, nearly tripping over himself. Outside, palace guards whispered.
"He's terrifying…"
"If only Lord Sukiyaki still ruled…"
"When will Lord Oden return?"
Orochi, hearing none of it, seethed silently. Soon, once Sukiyaki is gone, the shogunate will be mine. Then I'll execute all who doubt me.
Behind him stood Kurozumi Semimaru, barrier-user, his silence unbroken. But when necessary, he reminded Orochi: "Endure. You've waited years. A little longer, and all of Wano will belong to the Kurozumi once more."
Orochi steadied his breath, forcing a grin. "Yes… not long now. Soon, Wano will be mine."
But the Flower Capital itself betrayed his weakness. The people still longed for the Kozuki clan. His own men whispered doubts. Even now, Orochi's hold was fragile, sustained by schemes and shadows.
And still he had no idea, Oden was returning, and with him, the Whitebeard Pirates. Against that power, all his webs would burn away.
By then, Teach had arrived at the Flower Capital. The city bloomed with color, cherry blossoms drifting across rooftops, streets alive with merchants and laughter.
It was the most prosperous heart of Wano. Yet beneath its beauty lay secrets and Teach had come to find the greatest one.
Kozuki Sukiyaki.
Though stripped of his title, Sukiyaki was no frail elder. Teach reasoned that only poison administered by someone close could keep him weak. And only Kurozumi Higurashi, with her Mane Mane no Mi, had the access and ability to impersonate Sukiyaki at the right moment.
If Sukiyaki died, Orochi's sham would solidify. But if he lived the tide of Wano would turn.
Teach's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the gates of the Kozuki ancestral grounds. "Time to see if the old man still draws breath."