As Jack held the sword away from the trembling samurai's grasp, another figure stepped into view.
This one wore a bluish kimono, his presence calm yet commanding. Jack turned toward the newcomer, still gripping the weapon tightly, until he noticed that the first samurai had stopped struggling.
Realizing the immediate danger was gone, Jack slowly released his hold and stood up straight, taking a brief breath before addressing the older man.
"Hello," Jack began politely, brushing the dust from his hands. "My name is Sparrow D. Jack, though you can call me Jack Sparrow.
I'm the captain of the Sparrow Pirates. Please don't misunderstand what you just saw earlier. This samurai here attempted to end his life over a simple misunderstanding, and I merely stopped him. I would prefer not to see that happen again."
Jack's words were clear but cautious. He could sense from the man's bearing that this was no ordinary samurai. The older swordsman had a composed expression, and the way he carried himself radiated years of discipline and experience.
"I see," the man replied after a moment of silence. "Then gratitude is due. You have saved the life of my son from his own foolishness. I am Shimotsuki Kouzaburou, and you have my thanks."
The name struck Jack immediately. He glanced from the older samurai to the younger one kneeling nearby, then back again.
The name Kouzaburou rang in his mind like an echo from a story he had once heard. Jack furrowed his brows, trying to recall where he had encountered that name before.
After a few seconds of silent thought, his eyes widened slightly. Kouzaburou — the legendary swordsmith who had forged the Wado Ichimonji, the blade that one day would be wielded by Roronoa Zoro, and the Enma, the sword once belonging to Kozuki Oden.
Kouzaburou was a craftsman of such renown that his name was often spoken in the same breath as Kozuki Sukiyaki, another of Wano's greatest smiths, creator of the Sandai Kitetsu and Ame no Habakiri.
Realizing this, Jack couldn't help but look at the old man with newfound respect, though his stare became a bit too focused.
Kouzaburou noticed this immediately. His brows drew together slightly, puzzled by the young pirate's intense gaze. He had never met this man before, nor had he ever seen a foreigner who recognized his name so easily.
"Shimotsuki," Jack finally said, breaking the silence, his tone suddenly more animated. "That's the name of that legendary swordsman, isn't it? The samurai who slew a dragon long ago — Shimotsuki Ryuma. Are you perhaps one of his descendants?"
Jack's enthusiasm seemed genuine, almost childlike, as though he were recalling a tale from memory rather than reading from history.
Kouzaburou was taken aback. He had not realized that their clan's name was known outside Wano at all.
The reaction from Jack's crew confirmed it further. Issho, Laffitte, and Club all exchanged glances, clearly recognizing the name as well.
Laffitte and Club had read of the Shimotsuki clan in old history books, while Issho knew of Ryuma through his fascination with the samurai code and the legends that surrounded it.
"Let us talk somewhere private," Kouzaburou said calmly, gesturing for Jack to follow. Jack nodded eagerly and signaled to his crew.
"Aramaki, stay here and help rebuild the damaged houses," Jack ordered.
Aramaki groaned loudly, muttering something about always being the one left to clean up, but he still obeyed. He raised his hand and summoned fresh timber, shaping the wood into the framework of new homes with ease.
Meanwhile, Jack followed Kouzaburou as they walked toward a quieter part of the settlement. The younger samurai — Kouzaburou's son — stayed close to Issho, watching him curiously.
The boy seemed fascinated, perhaps even slightly competitive, as they were near the same age. He also noticed that nearly everyone in Jack's crew was young, which only deepened his intrigue.
Once they reached a shaded area beneath several old trees, Jack spoke again. "I've heard that skilled swordsmiths of Wano perform certain rituals that can bless a blade," he said. "They say it strengthens the sword and makes it more durable. I would like to ask if you could do the same for mine."
He drew his sword, Sayafushi, and presented it respectfully. Kouzaburou's expression changed the moment the blade caught the light. His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with intense focus. He leaned closer, examining the craftsmanship with the practiced eye of a master.
"This sword…" he murmured, tracing his fingers near the flat of the blade without touching it. "The forging is exceptional. The balance, the polish, even the way the metal breathes — it's extraordinary. But something is missing."
He paused, then looked directly at Jack. "There is no will. No pride. The sword has no soul. Who forged this?"
Jack frowned, slightly puzzled. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "It's an heirloom. My mother gave it to me before she passed away. She said it once belonged to my father."
Kouzaburou nodded slowly, still examining the weapon. The craftsmanship was too perfect to be ordinary, yet the absence of spirit made it unsettling. Before he could say more, Issho stepped forward, holding his own sheathed blade.
"If possible," Issho said respectfully, "I would like you to bless mine as well."
He unsheathed his sword, Yakuza Kasen, revealing a blade of equal refinement. Kouzaburou froze again. Two swords of such incredible quality, yet both strangely hollow — lifeless, as though untouched by purpose.
"No pride or will in this one either," Kouzaburou said softly. "Where did you get it?"
Issho remained silent, his expression calm but distant. It was clear that the sword carried memories he didn't wish to speak of.
"Your silence is understood," Kouzaburou finally said. "You need not explain. But I must tell you, I can no longer perform what you ask. My body has grown too old, my strength and precision are not what they once were. Attempting such work now would bring more harm than good."
Jack tilted his head slightly, thinking. "That's not really a problem," he said after a short pause. "Laffitte, give him a portion of what you took from the attackers earlier — even just a quarter should be enough."
Laffitte nodded silently. Without hesitation, his nails lengthened into sharp claws. Kouzaburou barely had time to react before Laffitte pierced his arm gently, channeling a strange energy through the contact.
Kouzaburou gasped as warmth spread through his body. The years seemed to peel away from him as the aches and stiffness of age began to fade.
His back straightened, his breathing eased, and before long, the wrinkles on his face softened, revealing the younger man he once had been.
Kouzaburou stared at his own hands in disbelief, flexing his fingers and feeling strength return to his limbs for the first time in decades. "What… what happened to me?" he asked, astonished.
Jack simply smiled and stepped forward, holding out Sayafushi. Beside him, Issho did the same with Yakuza Kasen. The message was clear.
"You've regained your strength," Jack said with a calm grin. "Now, there's no reason to refuse us anymore."