One Piece: From Coward To Warrior

As I watched the little girl run off into the smoke, I let out a shaky breath.

That's two.

Two people I saved today.

A few hours ago, I was a coward hiding behind a forge. Now I was—

Footsteps.

I turned.

The injured pirate from before had returned—this time with a friend. Both of them armed with clubs, both grinning like they were about to beat the fear back into me.

I couldn't help but laugh.

If you had told me yesterday that I'd be standing in a burning village, sword in hand, ready to fight pirates… I would've called you insane.

But here I was.

The moment I drew Arashikiri, the knowledge kicked in. My grip adjusted, my feet shifted without thought, and my body flowed with movements I never trained—but somehow knew.

Basic offensive forms. Simple defensive counters.

And, more importantly, a feel for the rhythm of combat.

Just a beginner level… and yet, it made me feel like someone else.

No—like who I was supposed to be.

I caught myself grinning.

"If I already feel this sharp now… imagine what the Master level is like. I'd be nearly at Kojiro Sasaki's level—"

I blinked.

Then slapped myself internally.

Focus.

What the hell was I doing daydreaming in the middle of a life-or-death situation?

A little taste of strength, and suddenly I was fantasizing about standing shoulder to shoulder with legends?

I looked down at my shaking hands and whispered:

"Idiot."

There are monsters in this world.

Kaido. Whitebeard. Shanks. Mihawk.

People who could level entire islands with a swing.

I didn't even have the strength of a regular Marine right now.

No Haki. No Devil Fruit. Just a sword and a borrowed skill.

Now wasn't the time for grand ideas.

Now was the time to help my village. To fight for the people who couldn't. And maybe, just maybe—

To become someone I wouldn't run from.

I raised Arashikiri and settled into stance.

The two pirates stalked toward me, clubs in hand.

The one I'd cut earlier was clutching his shoulder, face twisted in pain and rage. The other was bigger—bald, thick arms, scar across the jaw—and looked twice as angry.

"So you're the little rat who cut my buddy?" the big one growled, cracking his neck. "What do you think you're trying to do, huh? Play hero?"

I exhaled slowly, forcing my arms to stop shaking.

Then I raised Arashikiri into a defensive stance—just like the skill told me to. Right foot slightly back. Blade angled, eyes forward. Breathe.

I met his glare and said, calmly—

"Well… I think out in the street they call it murder."

There was a beat of silence.

Even the pirate blinked, thrown off by the reply.

Then he snarled. "You cocky little—!"

The bigger pirate roared and charged, but the injured one — the one I'd cut earlier — moved first. Rage twisted his face, blinded him. He lunged at me, swinging his club like a madman, aiming to shatter bones.

But rage doesn't make you faster.

It just makes you louder.

I sidestepped cleanly — smooth, practiced, precise.

His club missed, again. His feet dragged behind, unbalanced.

He growled and came at me again, this time with tighter, angrier swings.

I didn't block.

I deflected.

Niten Ganryu:Counter Flow

A basic move. Not flashy. But effective.

Arashikiri's edge whispered against the wooden shaft and slipped away like water. My body followed.

He didn't even see the first cut.

My blade passed through his right arm like it wasn't there.

SHLICK.

The arm hit the ground with a dull thud. He screamed — high, panicked, wounded.

I didn't hesitate.

Another step.

Another swing.

Another cut.

SHLICK.

His left arm joined the right.

He dropped to his knees, screaming into the dirt.

I looked into his eyes.

And for a split second, I saw the same fear I used to live in.

The same paralyzing, pathetic fear that once ruled me.

No more.

I raised Arashikiri again — and this time, I didn't flinch.

SHING—THUNK.

His head fell cleanly from his shoulders and rolled across the ground… coming to a stop at the feet of the second pirate.

The head hit the ground with a dull, final thunk, then rolled to a stop at the feet of the second pirate.

He froze.

No more taunting. No more cocky grin.

Just wide eyes. A gaping mouth.

And fear.

Real, soul-freezing fear.

His club slipped from his fingers.

"I—I…" he stammered, but the words never finished.

Because I was already moving.

There was no anger in me.

No vengeance. No hate.

Only clarity.

If I let him go, he could come back. He could hurt someone.

And I couldn't let that happen.

Not again.

I stepped forward.

He didn't run.

He didn't fight.

He just stood there — shaking, eyes locked on me like I was the monster.

And maybe I was.

But I didn't care.

I raised Arashikiri.

He flinched—

And then it was over.

SHLICK.

His head hit the ground beside the first, eyes still wide in disbelief.

His body followed an instant later, collapsing like a puppet with cut strings.

Blood pooled around my feet. The heat of the fire met the metallic sting of it in the air.

I stood there, breath slow, hands trembling.

Two pirates. Two kills.

I looked down at my blade.

It was still sharp.

Too sharp.

And I…

I was still standing.