Ashura Doji arrived, his jaw tight as he drew the sword at his waist. "Damn it!" he cursed, eyes locked on the clash before him.
Seeing his companion appear, and believing Ashura Doji had come to his aid, Kanjuro's face lit up with relief. Salvation was right in front of him. If Ashura Doji cut down this mysterious assassin, his secret would remain buried forever.
Teach pressed the attack, his claws burning with flame and crackling with Haki, but Kanjuro abandoned his failing ink crane, landing hard on the ground and sprinting toward Ashura Doji.
His mind was fixed on one thing.. survival.
What Kanjuro did not know was that Teach had already sensed Ashura Doji's presence through his Observation Haki. From the very start, Ashura had been watching from the shadows, witnessing every display of Kanjuro's 'hidden strength.' The traitor had revealed too much.
Now Ashura Doji moved at last. His demonic aura flared, his sword gripped tightly, the killing intent in his gaze directed not at Teach but at Kanjuro.
Teach vanished, bursting forward at impossible speed, both claws wreathed in flames, blackened with Haki, and sparking faintly with lightning. A predator closing in on its prey.
Kanjuro felt the sharpness of death closing in behind him. Despair flooded his face, but hope burned just as fiercely Ashura Doji stood before him.
Surely, his comrade would save him. Surely, that blade would turn against the assassin.
But when their eyes met, Kanjuro froze. Ashura's gaze was merciless, filled with fury, and the blade in his hand was not raised to protect him but it was aimed directly at his heart.
Steel pierced flesh with a wet splurt.
Kanjuro's eyes went wide. "Wh…why?" he gasped, his voice breaking as blood spilled from his lips.
Ashura Doji's voice was ice. "Why? What do you think, Kurozumi Kanjuro?"
The traitor's pupils shrank in horror as his true name was spoken aloud. His body trembled, the light fading from his eyes. In that same instant, Teach's claw tore through his abdomen from behind.
One sword, one claw. Two fatal blows. There was no coming back.
Kanjuro collapsed, lifeless, head bowed, the truth of his betrayal carried into the grave.
Teach withdrew his hand, shaking it once. Not a trace of blood remained. He chuckled darkly. "Zehahahaha… ruthless, aren't you? I thought you'd hesitate against a former companion."
Ashura Doji exhaled heavily. His single strike had cost him, not in stamina, but in spirit. Yet his voice remained cold. "To let him die by my blade, before he could bring greater ruin, is mercy enough. Had Lord Oden faced Orochi with a traitor beside him… the losses would've been unimaginable."
Teach's grin widened. "Zehahaha! That's why I came to you. I like your resolve."
But Ashura's answer was firm. "I'll bear this sin alone. When the time comes, I'll kneel before Lord Oden and confess. This has nothing to do with you."
Teach tilted his head, amused, watching Ashura shoulder both guilt and duty.
"Though he was a traitor, he still served our lord faithfully for years," Ashura added, calmer now. "Let his name fall without disgrace. That is the least I can do for him."
Teach's grin softened into genuine admiration. For all his roughness, Ashura Doji was meticulous, even merciful in his own way.
With grim determination, Ashura lifted Kanjuro's corpse. "Leave Kuri to me. When the time comes, the samurai of Kuri will march to the Flower Capital." Without another glance, he walked off into the night, burdened with both body and responsibility.
Teach watched him go, laughter rumbling in his chest. "Zehahaha… Oden's return will tell all truths soon enough."
With Kanjuro's death, the greatest hidden threat to the Kozuki clan was gone. Wano only had to wait for Oden's return. Teach, meanwhile, had other matters to attend to.
He returned the legendary blade to its rightful owner. Kozuki Sukiyaki accepted it with reverence, his condition stabilized though the poison in his veins still lingered. They spoke quietly about Oden, about the looming storm, about the masters of Wano's swordsmanship.
Teach, restless as ever, declared his next goal. "I'll travel Wano. Challenge its famed sword masters. Sharpen myself."
Sukiyaki nodded, providing the names and whereabouts of renowned duelists across the land.
And so Teach's journey began. From the Flower Capital to the distant provinces, he wandered, seeking out dojos, villages, and legendary families of the blade.
In Udon, he came upon the town of Aobuta, famous for its green pigs and savory meat. There stood the dojo of the Izumo family, a bloodline of sword saints with a history stretching back centuries.
There, under the moonlight, Teach challenged Izumo Wataru, the clan's head and a swordsman on the brink of reaching the rank of Great Swordsman.
They faced each other in the quiet dojo yard, apprentices watching from the shadows, their breaths held.
Teach drew the two katanas gifted by Sukiyaki. "Marshall D. Teach. I've come for a duel."
"Izumo Wataru," the swordsman replied calmly. "I accept."
Flames and lightning coiled around Teach's arms as he launched forward with the Rai-en Style: Oni Leopard, his twin blades roaring like beasts. Wataru parried, his movements uncanny, as though he could anticipate every strike.
"The Izumo Heart Sword Style," he explained between clashes, "sees the intent before the blade."
Teach grinned, pushing harder, sparks flying with every blow. For a time, the night filled with fire, steel, and thunder. But eventually, Teach fell to one knee, his katanas broken, his chest heaving.
Defeat. Just as he had expected.
Yet as he left the dojo alone, battered but laughing, his reputation spread like wildfire.
A foreign swordsman, one who fused flame and lightning, was cutting his way through Wano. A man named Marshall D. Teach.