CHAPTER 15 — RETURN TO WINDMILL VILLAGE
The sea stretched endlessly, silver waves rolling under the morning sun. The wind smelled of salt and freedom. My boat cut cleanly through the water, each stroke deliberate, each movement measured. No haste. No distraction. Only the rhythm of
motion and intent.
Windmill Village grew larger on the horizon, familiar yet unchanged. The memories of its quiet streets and the echoes of past chaos lingered in the air. Bandits had come and gone. Life had continued. But I had changed.
I carried Wado Ichimonji now. Its presence sharpened my senses in a way no ordinary blade could. It did not demand speed. It demanded precision. And I would give it everything.
BACK TO THE EDGE
I stepped onto the familiar docks, boots silent on weathered wood. Observation Haki flared subtly, scanning the village. Houses,
trees, villagers going about their morning routines. Nothing threatened. No interruptions. Perfect.
Ace, Sabo, and Luffy were already waiting near the clearing I had used for training before. Their attention split between playful banter and curiosity, unaware of the subtle shift in my presence.
I made no announcement. I did not smile. I did not greet.
They noticed anyway. They always did.
REASSESSING THE TOOLS
I laid the three swords down on the soft grass of the clearing. My old blades, familiar yet inferior, resting next to Wado Ichimonji. I tested the balance in my hand. Observed the weight distribution. Spun it lightly, letting Haki flow through the steel.
Then I adjusted my grip on the other two swords. Three arms, three blades, one perfected. The difference was subtle but immediate. Training potential multiplied. Every swing, every slash, every Rain of
Swords movement would now be centered on Wado's precision.
RAIN OF SWORDS REFINED
I activated the pattern again, letting Rain of Swords flow. The air screamed faintly as blades cut through it in micro-slashes. Energy slashes rippled outward, layering
with perfect timing.
Wado Ichimonji did not move with chaos. It moved with clarity. Every cut precise, every motion deliberate, cutting where necessary, reinforcing the strikes of my other two blades.
The extra arm coordinated seamlessly, now trained to flow around the center, expanding angles without compromising control.
Observation Haki tracked each subtle movement in the air—the faint vibrations, the shifts in balance, the pressure points where each slash intersected. Armament Haki reinforced only where needed, conserving strength. Conqueror's Haki
hummed faintly, sensing the presence of any living thing nearby, ready to influence weaker wills if necessary.
TRAINING IN SILENCE
Hours passed.
Sweat ran down my body.
Muscles burned.
Yet I did not pause.
Ace and Sabo occasionally joined, testing themselves against my movements, striking
at empty spaces, pushing their limits. Luffy stretched and laughed in the corner, practicing his new abilities, oblivious to precision but relentless in energy.
I didn't acknowledge them. My focus was singular. My goal: absolute mastery over Rain of Swords, with Wado Ichimonji at its core.
Each swing pushed me further. Each micro-
slash, each energy cut, became sharper, faster, cleaner. Each iteration layered new refinement, adapting to my growing strength.
UNDERSTANDING THE NEW BALANCE
By evening, I stopped.
Three swords rested against my arms.
The air hung still, charged faintly with Haki.
Rain of Swords had changed. It was no longer a chaotic storm. It was a precise, controlled storm, with Wado Ichimonji as the calm eye.
The extra arm moved effortlessly, balancing, extending, predicting. My body adapted further to the center of gravity, muscle memory, and flow.
Observation Haki, Armament Haki, and the faint pulse of Conqueror's Haki were in harmony.
I had returned to Windmill Village not as the boy who left, but as a weapon forged by patience, calculation, and ruthless efficiency.
The sun set over the village.
Three swords, three arms, one perfected storm.
Rain of Swords now had its center.
And the storm was ready.
The next challenge would come—but when it did, the village, the world, and every opponent would feel the edge of inevitability.