East Blue — Logue Town
One week before the strawhats arrives at Logue Town
The old weapon shop smelled like burning incense, oiled steel, and aged wood. Blades adorned the walls in tidy rows, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the afternoon light streaming through the dusty windows. Most were unremarkable, mere functional cutlasses for sailors, inexpensive sabers for soldiers or those wanting something to defend themselves with apart from a gun, and of course hunting knives for .... hunters or fishermen.
But the two blades resting upon the raised dais at the back of the shop, behind the counter, were different.
Even sheathed, they imposed on the room. The beauty of their scabbards stood out, their intricate patterns quietly drawing the eye.
"These…" the old shopkeeper said nervously, wiping his palms on his apron. "These are highly cursed blades. I keep them displayed as a warning, not for sale."
He gestured weakly towards the rack.
"Please, Zenin-san, don't pay them any mind. I have other katanas that are far better—and much safer."
"No."
The single word cut through the room like a razor.
The shopkeeper stopped mid-sentence.
"No?" Bard stammered, a chill running down his spine.
"That's not acceptable."
The man stood motionless before the dais, his broad shoulders blocking much of the light from the doorway behind him.
His face was sharp and masculine in a way that was difficult to describe. Not delicately handsome, but dangerous, the kind of face one instinctively avoided staring at for too long.
His narrow black eyes were calm, shallow, and calculating, as if constantly aware of, or observing everything around him.
A thin scar ran across the right side of his mouth, pulling his lip slightly upward into what almost resembled a permanent sneer.
'Like a predator.'
That was the only word Bard could think of, a silent predator standing in the middle of his humble shop. He had an unapproachable look, though he might've been exaggerating.
"The curse on them," Toji said slowly, his gaze narrowing on the blades atop the dais, "is exactly why I want them. Even now, I can sense something about them,..... the power..... the darkness."
His voice was low and even, free of doubt or pretense, he sounded almost excited at the thought.
"I've spent the last hour searching this town for proper katanas, walking from shop to shop in vain," he continued, his eyes shifting back to Bard. "And now that I've found them… you would deny me?"
Bard swallowed.
"Zenin-san… I'm just trying to save you from an unfortunate fate," he said carefully. "Everyone who's wielded those blades has died horribly, one way or another. Those weapons shouldn't be used."
"On the contrary," Toji replied, "they died because of their own weakness. Strong blades develop a will of their own, at least, that's what I've seen and heard. Those who can't handle them are deemed unworthy… and thus they die."
He paused briefly.
"That won't be my fate."
"Now bring them to me." The words weren't loud, but they carried the weight of an irrefutable command.
Bard hesitated for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh.
"…Then so be it. At your own risk, since you understand the danger."
The old weapons dealer climbed the small dais and carefully lifted the two blades from their display. Even after years of handling them, he still felt the faint unease they stirred within him.
He brought them down and laid them gently on the counter.
"One is Ameyuri," he said, placing a hand over the katana with the black-and-red hilt. "Beneficial Rain."
His hand moved to the shorter blade beside it—a wakizashi.
"And this is Shinsō. Divine god-killing spear."
Interesting, Toji thought as he heard the name of the wakizashi.
The blades rested silently between them.
He reached forward without a word and took the katana first. The black-and-red wrapped hilt settled naturally into his palm, as if the weapon had been waiting for him like a lost lover. He lifted it slightly, testing the balance with a subtle motion of his wrist.
"Perfect." He unconsciously muttered.
The thought came clearly.
The shopkeeper nodded instinctively, as if the praise belonged to him despite his earlier reluctance.
The blade slid free from its sheath with a quiet whisper of steel, catching the filtered light.
His narrow eyes studied the edge.
'Impressively sharp. No surprise, but it could use another pass on a whetstone. And a proper polish.'
It wasn't flawless. There were minor imperfections that needed attention, but it was more than sharp enough to kill without much effort.
He rolled his wrist again, feeling the weight distribution along the tang.
'Light, but not fragile, superb craftsmanship' he thought to himself.
He wondered who had forged it? He was curious about that though the master blacksmith of such a weapon, might've been long dead or old enough where he was already at death's door.
More interesting, however, was the aura within the blade as he had felt earlier. Though it seemed calmer, now that he held it ; yet it hadn't disappeared.
Most people would dismiss it as imagination, a trick of the mind, bad luck, or the result of the shopkeeper's warnings.
But he didn't.
There was something coiled within the steel, elusive, yet undeniable. A faint hunger. A quiet blood lust pressing against the senses like distant thunder.
The sword yearned for violence. It wanted to be used. To be mastered.
A faint curl touched the scar at the edge of his mouth as he grinned. Perhaps these blades would finally prove worthy companions to the inverted spear of heaven, his go-to weapon.
Even now, the spearhead rested easily inside his black coat. He never let the weapon leave his person, nor his gun, which he kept buckled to his side, hidden from the public eye. A true killer, after all, never shows his tricks.
He slid Ameyuri smoothly back into its sheath and set it on the counter with deliberate care.
Then his hand moved to the second blade.
The wakizashi named divine god killing-spear.
Toji lifted Shinsō, drawing it halfway from its sheath to inspect the metal beneath.
The steel gleamed cold and pale.
It was forged differently; the pattern in the metal was distinct, but no less magnificent.
Where the katana felt like restrained aggression, this short blade felt… calm, silent, and slithering. Like a snake, like that mocking bastard he had for a friend, like Shinji . He pictured a viper watching its prey before striking and swallowing it whole.
His fingers tightened slightly around the hilt as he studied it.
Silence filled the shop. Bard watched him carefully, yet curiously.
"How much?" Toji asked, lifting his gaze back to the man.
They were cursed. Unwanted as the man declared, but they were exceptional, even in the new world gems like these were rare, and when you do find them they came to be in the wrong hands. Even so, they brought a bad atmosphere to the shop. So letting them go wouldn't be a loss for the shopkeeper.
"I fear that even if I said a billion it wouldn't deter you?" the owner sighed like it was his last sigh.
"Unfortunately not", Toji shrugged.
"One million each," Bard said.
"Eight hundred thousand and I'll add several rubies as a bonus for your modesty",
The man almost choked on his words before catching himself quickly.
"How generous of you Toji-sama!!" He gave a mischievous laugh while rubbing his hands together.