At Aokiji's suggestion, Tsugikuni Yoriichi set aside his sword and picked up a bamboo blade. True to his word, Aokiji extended a hand, frost swirling at his fingertips until it formed into an ice-forged sword.
Calling it a sword, however, was a stretch. The weapon resembled a blade in shape, but in truth, it was little more than a hardened staff of ice—perfect for sparring without lethal Results.
The two clashed on the deck in a burst of speed.
Without his Devil Fruit powers, Aokiji's physical skills were unimpressive. Against a prodigy like Yoriichi, he could only barely keep pace, occasionally gaining the upper hand through technique rather than sheer strength.
Throughout the bout, Aokiji demonstrated several of the Navy's famed Six Styles:
The Paper Drawing technique, sensing the airflow of attacks and adjusting muscles to absorb the force.
The Shave, a lightning-fast movement that blurred the body.
The Moon Step, stomping on the air to rise and hover briefly above the ground.
The Storm Kick, whipping the air into invisible blades.
The Finger Gun, condensing power into the fingertips and firing like a bullet.
And the formidable Iron Block, hardening the body to steel, impervious to blades or bullets.
As Aokiji displayed each technique, Yoriichi observed through the lens of the Transparent World. Every detail, every shift of muscle and flow of energy was laid bare to him.
So that's it, he thought. These techniques aren't magic—they're about mastering the body itself.
And if there was one thing Yoriichi had perfected, it was control over his body. Years of Sun Breathing and his Transparent World mastery had refined his muscles beyond human limits.
It was no surprise then, that as soon as he grasped the essence of each technique, he could replicate it flawlessly.
One by one, he weighed them in his mind:
The Finger Gun… its focus at the fingertip is not unlike the Seventh Form of Sun Breathing, where force is condensed at the sword's edge. Still, for me, the blade is sharper.
The Moon Step… useful for surprise, but true swordsmanship is strongest when the feet are firmly on the ground.
The Shave… now this is excellent. With it, I can link my sword strikes seamlessly, flowing like water.
The Storm Kick… Interesting. If done with a blade, it becomes nothing less than a Flying Slash.
And the Iron Block… this is what I lack most. Every swordsman knows—our offense is sharp, but our defense is fragile.
The deck rang with the rhythm of battle.
"Da! Da! Da!"
Yoriichi's bamboo sword struck in fluid arcs, his attacks flowing one into another with unbroken grace. Each strike found the gaps in Aokiji's stance, aimed precisely at every exposed weakness.
Aokiji, for his part, defended with calm precision, his "popsicle sword" flashing as he used speed and Observation Haki to intercept each blow. Whenever he tried to counterattack, however, Yoriichi instantly shifted, forcing him back into defense.
Does this boy also have Observation Haki? Aokiji wondered, unsettled. His movements felt so predictive, as if he knew every change before it happened.
But then he dismissed the thought. Yoriichi had only just grasped the Six Styles. It was impossible.
What Aokiji didn't know was that Yoriichi wasn't reading him with Haki—he was seeing him. In the Transparent World, every twitch of muscle betrayed the next move. If Observation Haki was perception, Yoriichi's vision was sight itself.
The battle drew the attention of the sailors aboard. With the ship on course and most hands idle, word spread quickly, and soon a crowd gathered to watch.
"Isn't that the red-haired kid from Ryuin Island?" one marine whispered.
"The one Vice Admiral Garp brought back—Tsugikuni Yoriichi!" another added.
"I heard he's become Admiral Zephyr's disciple. No wonder… but to spar with Colonel Kuzan at this level?"
Murmurs rippled through the crew, but neither fighter paid them any mind.
Those who had once fought alongside Yoriichi were stunned. He was no longer the youth from the East Blue. With the Shave and his unmatched swordsmanship, his combat ability had skyrocketed.
Yoriichi himself knew it: his raw power hadn't changed much, but his combat skill had. He could easily defeat his former self within five strikes.
Perhaps Kaido was not the only great teacher in this world—Aokiji was proving just as invaluable.
"Hah!"
At last, Aokiji found an opening. He swept Yoriichi's bamboo blade aside and lunged, driving his ice sword toward the boy's stomach.
Yoriichi's stamina, still that of a youth, had begun to wane. The constant Shaving and full concentration breathing drained his energy. His speed slowed, leaving him vulnerable.
Iron Block! Yoriichi cried in his heart, bracing himself.
"Bang!!!"
The impact slammed into him like a cannonball. His body shot backward, crashing into the mast with a sickening thud. Dizzy, breathless, he coughed up water and sagged to the deck.
"Hey! You alright?" Aokiji rushed forward, concern etched on his face. He hadn't held back, seizing the chance to strike after being suppressed for so long. Now, seeing Yoriichi crumpled, he felt a pang of regret.
But Yoriichi stirred, groaning. "No… injuries." He staggered to his feet, stretching cautiously. His body, though aching, bore no wounds. His eyes lit up.
"Iron Block… it's incredible!"
On the watchtower, Garp chuckled at the sight.
"Bogard," he called to his adjutant, "from tomorrow, you'll start teaching him Haki. The Six Styles? He's already mastered them."
And with that,
the old Vice Admiral turned away, laughing as he descended from the tower.
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(End of Chapter)