Brrrrrrrm!
Through the dark night of Osaka, an engine sound cut through the silence and rolled out across the empty streets.
Car enthusiasts would have recognized it as a motorcycle without much trouble. True connoisseurs would have placed it immediately — a Kawasaki ZXR 400 R.
And the owner of that motorcycle was, of course, me. Zoro. (Kono Zoro Da)
Back at the house, nightfall had been waited for before heading out. Three swords secured at the hip, straddling the motorcycle, racing through the streets of Osaka with nothing but open road ahead.
The outfit: a hoodie over a black compression shirt, deep black jeans, black sneakers. To anyone watching from the sidewalk, the overall picture would have looked very much like a perfect ninja.
The helmet only reinforced that impression — identical to the one worn by a certain G.I. Joe operative. Snake Eyes, specifically.
Beneath it, half the face left bare, the other half covered by a half-mask.
Brrrrrrrm!
Fully covered from head to foot — identity completely concealed. The one detail that couldn't be hidden was the obvious fact of being a child. Taller than the national average for a kid in Japan, sure. But not absurdly so. The proportions still gave it away.
Getting stopped by law enforcement wasn't a concern regardless. The clan emblem was painted clearly across the motorcycle's body: an Ashura bearing nine swords.
VROOOOM!
That emblem was a personal choice, for the record. Replacing an ancestral symbol caused some noise within the clan when the decision was made, but managing internal politics wasn't the job right now. At least not yet.
Law enforcement in this city had learned clearly and early that the emblem was not to be messed with. The rule held day or night without exception.
Brrrrrrrm!
Night was still preferred, though. Fewer complications. Fewer unnecessary eyes on the road.
The house came into view through the dark. The motorcycle kept going past it without any reduction in speed.
One hundred meters further down the road, the brakes engaged.
Skrii!
Off the motorcycle. A moment taken to park it properly rather than just dropping it. Helmet removed — the fresh sea air drifting in off Osaka hit the face all at once.
Helmet set on the handlebar. No fixing the hair — the hood went straight up the moment both hands were free.
Before moving toward the house, a quick and deliberate check of everything on the body.
Hip: "Katanas? Check."
Sides, hidden under the hoodie: "Glocks? Check."
Wrists: "Throwing knives? Check."
"Okay. Ready."
To be absolutely clear — confidence in the swords and in the swordsmanship behind them is total and unwavering. But preparing for every possible eventuality costs nothing and changes nothing about that confidence.
"Besides, flying slashes still aren't fully under control. Distance options are necessary."
And testing new applications of Armament Haki beyond the katanas and direct body use wasn't going to hurt anything on top of that.
Preparation finished. Time to break jaws and asses.
---
**Narrator**
The front door wasn't used. That approach was set aside immediately in favor of something considerably more logical for a covert investigation.
Up the side of the house, through the open window of a bedroom, entering as silently as possible.
Haki had already confirmed the complete absence of living beings anywhere inside — but surveillance devices left behind by investigators were another matter that couldn't be ruled out.
Landing inside in a low crouch, holding that position for a solid ten seconds without moving.
Deeply satisfied.
'All those Metal Gear Solid sessions paid off after all.'
After the brief moment of self-congratulation, standing up and leaving the bedroom. No reason to linger — Haki had already registered the absence of any cursed energy residue in that room.
In fact, that was true across the entire house. Every single room carried nothing. Every room except one: the living room.
Into the hallway, keeping to the shadows along the wall, minimizing noise with every step taken.
No bodies remained — the paramedics had seen to that. But the floor still carried the evidence of what had happened here. Dark stains, dried into the surface. Chalk outlines marking where people had fallen, police tape stretched across every doorway and corner.
None of it was useful in the way it would be to an investigator. This wasn't that kind of search. Clues meant for forensics teams served no purpose.
What mattered was what Observation Haki could find.
The range was deliberately pulled back, trading breadth for precision. A tighter field, but significantly sharper sensitivity within it.
The result was immediate. Where before only significant concentrations of cursed energy would have registered, now even the faintest residues came through — thin, almost imperceptible threads of presence left behind by whatever had passed through this space and the people it had taken.
Following the trail led straight back outside.
A smile spread across Zoro's face without any particular effort.
"Jackpot."
Out into the street, tracing the residues along the ground — and then a pause before going further.
'Should probably take the motorcycle. Could be a long way.'
A few seconds of genuine consideration. Then a head shake. 'Engine noise would give the whole thing away.' A different option came to mind almost immediately after that. 'Yeah. That'll work.'
The idea of following the trail directly on foot was set aside. Back to the motorcycle — but not to ride it. Something attached to its side was what was actually needed here.
'Not as fast. But manageable.'
A skateboard.
Simple in appearance. Red deck, black wheels, no markings or decorations of any kind on the surface.
Dropped to the ground, one foot placed on top, and a single push forward.
FOUSH!
The speed that followed was immediate and completely absurd — over 180 kilometers per hour from a standing start. Normally impossible by any reasonable standard, of course. But impossible is a concept that doesn't hold much weight in One Piece.
The body had been through years of genuine, structured training with real equipment, backed without question by whatever resources the clan could provide. Physical capabilities had pushed well past any normal baseline a long time ago. A push of that magnitude required no special effort — just intent.
The board itself, though, had needed more careful thought. A standard skateboard wouldn't survive speed like that for more than a few seconds before something gave way.
Nothing about the approach was standard. Clan funds had gone toward a fully custom build: steel deck, titanium trucks, polyurethane wheels reinforced with carbon fiber throughout.
The result was a board that matched car speed on a smooth surface while producing almost no sound in the process.
The residue trail was followed at that pace, the city sliding past on both sides in a blur of lights and empty road.
Several minutes of this passed before the direction started to clarify.
'Leaving Osaka.'
That realization brought everything to a hard, immediate stop.
The back of the board scraped the pavement. Sparks scattered across the road.
'The trail leads toward Kyoto.'
Hesitation. Genuine, unambiguous hesitation.
'Should this even continue? Kyoto means going back. Back into the world that was left behind.'
And then — vibrations. From the hip. From the swords.
A look downward at them.
'What — you're telling me to stop acting like a coward?'
The vibration came again, steady and clear, as though the answer had already been decided.
'But is it actually worth it?'
That question didn't need the swords to answer. It answered itself.
"Yes."
'They're operating in MY city. And having the strength to stop people from getting killed while standing still and watching — that's not something that can be lived with.'
A fist opened slowly, then closed tight again.
'And the Haki hasn't been pushed in a real fight in too long. Real combat is what drives it forward. Nothing else does the same thing.'
The choice had already been made the moment the question finished forming.
Back into position. One foot planted firmly, one explosive push off the ground.
"Ready or not, Jujutsu world — I'm coming. You'd better stay firmly on your feet."