Finally, Kishimoto broke the silence. His voice was soft, almost resigned. "This is my whole story."
Gojo sat still, his blindfolded eyes facing Isadora—his true name now spoken aloud. His tone remained calm, but there was a firm edge to it.
"Although I sympathize with everything you've gone through… suffering so much, losing so much… I can also understand the despair you must have felt after learning you have one of the rarest diseases in the world. And realizing that you won't even be able to take revenge for yourself—that must be crushing." He paused, letting the words settle for a moment. "But why tell me all of this?"
Gojo leaned back slightly, the faintest sigh escaping him.
"Yes, we have good relations. But that exists only within the boundaries of our transaction. I pay you for sparring so I can improve my swordsmanship. At that point, we are even. I don't have any deeper ties with you that would make me go and take revenge for you in Dressrosa."
He continued, voice steady, unflinching.
"If you're telling me this whole story expecting that I'll suddenly show a huge amount of compassion and go take revenge for you like some righteous hero… then you're wrong. I don't care that much about it. This world is like this. The weak are always suppressed by the strong—you have to understand that. That's simply how this world works."
His tone remained brutally pragmatic, almost cold.
"The World Government rules because of their strength. Dressrosa fell because of your ruler's weakness… or foolishness. I don't know the reason. But Doflamingo was more powerful, had greater strength. So he took it. Whether he captured it ruthlessly or benevolently, whether he destroyed the kingdom or rebuilt it—I don't care."
Isadora heard every word clearly. The harshness stung—sharp and undeniable—but he could not deny the truth in Gojo's worldview. This is how this world works.
Isadora nodded slowly, meeting Gojo's blindfolded gaze with a serious expression. "You're absolutely right about everything you said. And I didn't tell you my story to plead for help or beg you to take revenge for me. I told you so you would understand where I'm coming from—and based on that, I'm sitting here to make a deal."
He leaned slightly forward, the intensity in his eyes sharpening.
"I see potential in you that I've never seen in anyone else. Your strength is already extremely high, and you're still growing at a frightening pace. In three or four years, I can't even imagine what level you'll reach. Maybe strong enough to defeat Doflamingo… strong enough to liberate Dressrosa. That's why I want to make a deal with you."
Gojo let out a short amused breath at that, raising a brow beneath the blindfold. "A deal? And what kind of deal could you possibly offer that would tempt me to go toe-to-toe with someone like Doflamingo? He's one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, recognized by the World Government. You think a simple story of suffering is enough to make me fight him?"
Isadora didn't flinch at the challenge. Instead, he gave a small, knowing smile.
"As I told you earlier, after escaping, I was fortunate enough to wash up on an uninhabited island. There was no one there, but fate still handed me something unexpected. Something… rare. At that time, I thought it was useless to me. After all, how could I make use of it with just one hand? Losing my right hand felt like losing my future—so when such a thing appeared in front of me, I almost thought it was a cruel joke from the world. But I still found it. I found it on that island."
His tone carried a hint of reverence, as if he were speaking about something sacred.
Gojo frowned slightly. These riddles were starting to annoy him. "Can you be direct? Why are you going around in circles?"
Kishimoto nodded. "Wait a moment."
He rose from his seat and disappeared into one of the inner rooms of the house. Gojo remained at the table, listening to the faint sounds of items shifting, drawers opening, and cloth rustling. After a short while, Kishimoto returned—holding a long object wrapped tightly in thick cloth. Even from a glance, Gojo could tell from the length, the balance, and the faint outline beneath the fabric that it was definitely a sword.
Kishimoto placed the wrapped object gently on the table. With deliberate movements, he began unwrapping it. Layer by layer, the cloth fell away until a beautiful hilt and an elegant, finely crafted sheath were revealed. The sword had a quiet presence—refined yet commanding—as if the air around it shifted ever so slightly.
Kishimoto began speaking, his tone carrying the weight of an old tale.
"You might not know about this sword, so I'll tell you. In our Dressrosa Kingdom, there's a fairy tale—one that's been passed down for generations. It tells of a swordsman who lived around the kingdom hundreds of years ago. He was one of the most feared pirates of that era. And he wielded a supreme blade known as Kogetsu no Yoru."
His fingers brushed lightly over the sheath, almost reverently.
"It was said that in sunlight, the blade absorbs all the light and turns completely black during the day. But at night, when exposed to moonlight, the sword lights up—glowing like a shining blade. Because of this characteristic, it was named Kogetsu no Yoru—'Moonlit Night Fang.'"
After finishing the explanation, Kishimoto stood and looked toward the door. "Come. Follow me. It's night right now and the moon is high. I'll show you something."
He walked out of the house with the sword in hand. Gojo rose as well, curiosity stirring, and followed him outside.
They stepped into the open yard—still scarred with potholes and cracks from their intense battle earlier in the evening. The cool night wind brushed past them. Kishimoto stopped at the centre of the open space and turned toward Gojo.
"Look carefully."
Hearing that, Gojo reached up and untied his blindfold, letting it slip down into his hand. His sky-blue eyes gleamed faintly under the moonlight, a soft glow reflecting in their depths as he focused on the sword before him.
Kishimoto drew the blade from its sheath in one smooth motion. At first, the sword was pitch-black—so dark it seemed to swallow the moonlight around it. But within seconds, something mystical rippled across its surface. The darkness shimmered… then burst softly into a radiant glow of sky-blue light, the exact shade of Gojo's eyes.
The illumination pulsed gently, casting cool, ethereal light across the ruined yard.
(Ai generated image in Comments area.)
Gojo's brows rose slightly, the glow reflecting in his gaze. "You're telling me this is one of the supreme blades… Kogetsu no Yoru?"
Kishimoto nodded firmly. "Yes. That is correct. When I found it on that island, I was overjoyed—I had uncovered a blade that existed only in the folk tales of Dressrosa. A supreme blade said to be lost forever. But at the same time…" He let out a slow breath. "I was heartbroken. Because with only one hand, I knew I could never wield this sword properly… never give justice to a blade of this level."
He gently sheathed Kogetsu no Yoru, the blue glow fading as the blade clicked back into place.
Then he looked directly at Gojo. "So? What do you think of the deal now? I will give you this supreme blade. Its value is beyond calculation—worth billions on the black market or on any market. In exchange… can you destroy Doflamingo and his commanders?"
Gojo stood silently for a few moments, the night breeze brushing past both of them. His sky-blue eyes narrowed as he considered the offer, weighing power, risk, and opportunity. Finally, he nodded.
"We have a deal." His voice was calm but decisive. "I wouldn't want to miss out on such a powerful supreme blade. And I am confident that killing Doflamingo and his commanders won't be that hard for me in the future."
He paused, lifting his blindfold but not putting it on yet.
"But you'll have to wait. Because until I'm certain I can kill Doflamingo and his commanders, I won't make a move."
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