Only after Tachibana Kyūjō had shown the full extent of his strength did Kōshirō finally move in earnest.

Gripped tightly in the hands of the legendary swordsman was one of the 21 Great Grade Swords—Wadō Ichimonji.

He pointed the tip of his blade straight at Kyūjō. A silent, invisible pressure radiated from his body—the overwhelming aura of a master swordsman. It wasn't something that could be explained through words alone. It was something felt… deeply, instinctively.

To Kyūjō, whose sensory perception had been sharpened through countless battles and journeys across worlds, Kōshirō no longer appeared to be a mere man.

He had become one with the wind and sky, blending into the world as if his existence itself had dissolved into nature. He wasn't just standing there. He was the very essence of the world.

And in that moment, an eerie illusion gripped Kyūjō's heart.

No matter how he swung his blade… he wouldn't reach his master.

It felt like he was fighting against the very laws of nature itself—a force too vast for mere human strength to defy.

Their swords clashed once, briefly—but the result was absolute.

Kyūjō was sent flying backward, as if swatted by an unseen hand of divine might. Thankfully, Kōshirō had held back, softening his blow with precise control. Kyūjō landed safely, skidding across the ground before rising to his feet, unharmed.

Brushing dust from his robe, Kyūjō gave a small shake of his head, chasing away the illusion that had nearly consumed his senses.

That overwhelming vision—of a godlike swordsman standing beyond comprehension—wasn't real. It was a trick of the mind. A result of the massive gap in power between them.

To an ordinary warrior, that illusion might have gone unnoticed. They might have interpreted it as fear… or awe.

But Kyūjō knew better.

If what he felt truly reflected Kōshirō's mastery, then his teacher had already stepped beyond the boundary of mortals. He had become something else entirely.

Perhaps… a god in the form of a man.

Yet, rather than despair, Kyūjō's heart swelled with excitement.

He had seen it. A path of swordsmanship beyond anything he had ever known. Something that didn't exist in his former world.

A new peak to climb.

— — —

Once both swords were sheathed, the air lightened. The battle had ended, and the time for questions began.

"Kyūjō," Kōshirō began, his voice calm but curious, "have you awakened your Kenbunshoku Haki yet?"

Noticing a flicker of confusion in his student's eyes, the master patiently began to explain.

"There are three advanced powers in this world that stand above all else. Together, they are known as Haki."

"Kenbunshoku Haki—also called Observation Haki—is one of them. When mastered, it sharpens your five senses to their limits: sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste."

"With it, you can sense the presence of others, read their movements, even predict attacks before they happen. The most advanced users… can catch glimpses of the future."

Kyūjō listened intently, though a faint crease appeared on his brow.

He didn't interrupt—but in his heart, countless questions swirled.

He already possessed Kenshin Tōmei, the Transparent Heart of the Sword. A sixth sense he had honed through relentless training—a spiritual perception that allowed him to "see" through the very essence of his opponents.

In some ways, it was similar to Kenbunshoku Haki. But their roots were different.

Kenbunshoku was born from the physical senses, refined and pushed beyond normal limits.

But Kenshin Tōmei… came from within. From spiritual clarity and the bond between swordsman and blade. It wasn't hearing or seeing—it was feeling. Like peering into the soul itself.

Compared to Kenbunshoku, it was sharper, more detailed—like a microscope revealing what the eye alone could never see.

But when it came to range… Kyūjō knew he still had much to learn.

And those who had fully mastered Kenbunshoku stood far above him.

In that moment, a name rose in his mind:

Fujitora.

A future Admiral who had blinded himself, training his Observation Haki for twenty years until he could perceive meteorites falling from space—then summon them down with the power of his Devil Fruit.

Even the strongest of fighters had trouble evading such divine-scale attacks.

If talent alone were enough to awaken Kenbunshoku, then shouldn't Kyūjō—whose senses already surpassed normal human limits—have awakened it long ago?

So why hadn't he?

Was there some kind of trigger needed… to truly unlock it?

Though his mind drifted for a moment, he quickly re-centered himself. The lesson wasn't over. Kōshirō's voice continued to guide him.

"Next is Haoshoku Haki. The rarest of the three. You can't learn it. You can't train it. Either you're born with it… or you're not."

"It's the Haki of the Conqueror—the will of a king. Only one in several million can awaken it. It marks those destined to stand above others… to lead."

"And the third… is Busoshoku Haki. The Armor of Will."

"This Haki strengthens both your attack and defense. You can use it to coat your weapons, like a sword… or even strike down Devil Fruit users directly."

"With the level of strength you've already achieved, Kyūjō, I believe you're ready to begin training it."

"It'll take effort, but Busoshoku Haki could become your sword against those who rely on Devil Fruits."

Kōshirō paused for a moment, locking eyes with him.

"You know about Devil Fruits, right?"

For a brief second, the image of an old marine—Garp the Iron Fist—flashed through Kyūjō's mind. A brutal mentor who trained his students with sheer force. Then came the vision of Kaidō, the Beast King, whose "hundred lessons" meant a hundred beatings.

Compared to those two, Kōshirō was like a breeze—quiet, gentle… but guiding like a river toward the sea.

I really didn't make a mistake coming here, Kyūjō thought, his gaze firm.

He nodded silently.

Seeing the resolve in his student's eyes, Kōshirō gave a slight nod in return… and then his voice grew unshakably firm.

"Then let me say one more thing, Kyūjō."

"No matter what happens… never eat a Devil Fruit."

The tone of his voice didn't change.

But something in the air shifted. The weight of that statement couldn't be ignored.

He wasn't scolding him. It wasn't fear.

It was hope.

Kōshirō had placed his hopes on Kyūjō—on a disciple who might one day surpass him.

Kyūjō had a gift for the sword that could only be called extraordinary. Among every swordsman Kōshirō had ever seen, Kyūjō's potential was the highest.

And that was exactly why… he didn't want that talent diluted.

The path of the sword, when walked purely, could reach heights no Devil Fruit could ever hope to match.

Yes, a well-matched Devil Fruit could grant tremendous power.

But it would always be borrowed power.

And Kōshirō believed—deep in his heart—that if Kyūjō kept walking forward, never giving in to shortcuts or temptations…

Then one day…

He would reach the true summit of the sword.

The summit no one had ever touched before.

"But if you rely on it too much, it'll disrupt your focus. Your heart and mind won't be fully dedicated to mastering Haki or the True Path of the Sword."

Kyūjō only gave a faint smile.

He neither nodded nor denied it.

Then, with a calm breath, Kyūjō slowly opened his mouth and revealed something he had long kept hidden—something no one in this world had yet heard.

A secret about his unique sensory system.

Kenshin Tōmei—The Transparent Heart of the Sword.

"Ever since I became aware of my existence in this world…"

"My perception system has been different from that of ordinary humans. My five senses are far more refined than normal. But beyond that… I possess a sixth sense."

"When I activate it, everything—objects, living beings—they all become exposed to me. There's nothing they can hide. It's like seeing through the world itself."

Kyūjō paused, lowering his gaze momentarily, then locking eyes with Kōshirō.

"That's how I was able to react to your attack so early, Sensei."

"It's not foresight, not really. I just… observe the slightest twitch in your muscles and bones. Even before your sword moves, I already know when and where it will strike."

He took a slow breath.

"But I don't think this is the same as Kenbunshoku Haki. So please, Sensei… can you teach me how to truly awaken it?"

Kōshirō fell silent.

His brows furrowed as he considered Kyūjō's words. A sixth sense? He'd never heard of anything quite like it.

But before he could even begin to respond, another thought struck him—urgent, perhaps even more so than the original topic.

His eyebrow twitched.

"…Wait a minute. You said you can see through everything?"

Kyūjō blinked innocently, tilting his head. "Yes."

"…Does that mean… to your eyes, it doesn't matter if someone's dressed or not?!"

Kyūjō gave a slow, sincere nod.

Kōshirō's expression changed instantly.

His normally calm face twisted in horror, the peaceful master swordsman vanishing in an instant—replaced by the deadly aura of a Daikengō, a true Sword Saint, ready to cut down anything in his path.

"D-DON'T TELL ME—WHILE YOU WERE WITH MY WIFE EARLIER—YOU DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE, RIGHT?!"

Kyūjō froze as his master's bloodlust surged.

In that moment, he finally realized the fatal mistake in how he'd explained himself.

His face twisted in a flurry of emotions—confusion, panic, regret—then indignation.

A righteous fury filled his voice.

"Kōshirō-sensei! What kind of man do you take me for?!"

"As a swordsman—how could I ever stoop to such dishonorable behavior?!"

Kōshirō said nothing.

The silence was awkward… but brief.

Because the very next second, Kyūjō flashed a mischievous grin.

"Hehe… just kidding, Sensei. Honestly, that sixth sense of mine is usually sealed. If I leave it on all the time, it feels like my brain's gonna explode."

He tapped his temple with a sheepish chuckle.

Kōshirō sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead and rolling his eyes.

"…Starting today, you are strictly forbidden from using that weird sixth sense inside the dojo."

Kyūjō flinched. "E-Eh?! But Sensei, how am I supposed to train without it? I've made so much progress with it active!"

Kōshirō let out a low, cold chuckle.

"That's exactly the problem."

"If your natural senses are as sharp as you claim, then you should've awakened Kenbunshoku Haki by now."

"But you haven't."

"There's only one reason why—it's because you've been relying too much on that perception of yours. Your body has never truly felt danger."

He stepped forward, his voice quiet but piercing.

"From now on—no more answers before the question. No more shadows before the strike. If you want to know what's coming… let your body figure it out."

"And the only way it'll ever learn…"

"…is by awakening Kenbunshoku Haki."

Those words struck Kyūjō like a bell tolling deep within his soul.

He understood.

Ever since he first developed that sixth sense, he'd never been surprised in combat. Every threat, every movement—he always knew the outcome before the fight even began.

Whether he could dodge… whether he would win…

The answers had always been there, ready for him.

But because of that… his body had never been pushed to the brink.

Only in the face of true uncertainty—when death stood close enough to kiss your cheek—could a person awaken that instinctual, desperate power…

Kenbunshoku Haki.

A strength that doesn't require sight—only a vigilant heart.

When there are no answers… your body must find them.

And if it can't?

You die.

That's why only those who've brushed against death can truly awaken Observation Haki.

Of course… if you're weak, with talent no greater than a speck of dust, don't even think about trying this method—you'll probably just end up dead for real.

Kyūjō let those thoughts settle in silence.

But before he could dwell any deeper, Kōshirō's calm, iron voice rang out again:

"And listen closely—don't even think about trying to trick me."

"As long as you're training in this dojo… I'll attack you."

"At any time. Without warning."

"Now get ready. We're continuing the lesson."

Those final words didn't come from a peaceful mentor.

To Kyūjō's eyes… Kōshirō now looked like something else entirely.

No longer just a teacher.

He was a sword-wielding demon, cloaked in calm, waiting to tear through every weakness his student had.

A monster born from the blade.

And Kyūjō…

…couldn't wait to face him.

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