One Piece: The Devil Fruit Collector-Chapter 272: A Matter of Regret, A Matter of Rejoicing

Just as mentioned before—

The existence of the 'Sword God', or rather this clone 'Hebi', held its greatest significance for Roy in practicing 'Fruit Creation'.

All he needed was the fame; as for swordsmanship, he hadn't truly dabbled in it himself.

So after realizing that the swordsmanship belonging to Shimotsuki Ryuma within this body—stitched together merely by relying on Buckingham's corpse stitching technology—was not enough to defeat Hawkeye, Roy didn't feel surprised or disappointed.

After all, it was just residual instinct within the body; it was perfectly normal that it couldn't match the strongest Great Swordsman of this era.

But the problem was—

Clang!

As the battle continued, the sound coming from Shusui was so clear and full of yearning.

And therein lay the problem.

Because before this, Hebi had never been able to hear the 'sword's' thoughts.

Clang!

And in yet another instant of exchanging slashes with Hawkeye, as the blades collided—

Hebi could even sense that fragmented, blurry images had begun to surface in his mind.

Like treasures sunk to the bottom of the sea, with every collision of the two Black Blades, they were washed up onto the shores of his consciousness by the rolling waves.

In Hebi's mind, he seemed to see scenes unfolding.

"Greedy ones who come here in pursuit of gold... being buried in the sea under the sword is the retribution you have chosen."

Winter snow fell, and he seemed to see countless ships approaching from the distant sea.

And he swung his sword, the blade light clear and cold like moonlight, repelling all incoming enemies.

That was the first scene.

Subsequently—

Roar!

The furious roar of some giant creature came, and Hebi seemed to see the magnificent buildings and city below.

He saw himself swinging the long sword in his hand, slicing open the scales of some enormous beast.

Scorching blood sprayed out, the scarlet hue reflected against the Flower Capital below.

That was the second scene.

And then—

Cough, cough... cough, cough...

It was winter snow again. He saw himself seemingly sitting inside a small cabin, quietly setting down the sword in his hand.

A swordsman will only completely lay down his sword at one specific time.

That is when he dies.

"What a pity..."

By Hebi's ear, he seemed to hear a sigh filled with endless regret.

It was still not enough.

He still wanted to swing his sword.

He still wanted to... fight.

That was the third scene.

And at this point, Hebi naturally understood.

Those memories did not come from him, but from... this body itself.

"Shimotsuki Ryuma..."

Hebi knew very well—the 'creature' created through Buckingham's corpse stitching technology would birth a chaotic, disordered consciousness within its body.

That was mostly a shattered soul generated by the obsessions and bodily instincts of the stitched corpses from when they were alive, similar to an 'Edward Weevil' or 'Vinsmoke Weevil'.

Because Buckingham's own stitching technology was imperfect, the stitched creatures experienced intense pain, leading both Weevils to become violent monsters as a result.

But Hebi's body was different—after being stitched together using the 'Stitch-Stitch Fruit', this body felt no pain.

So Hebi had always believed that the chaotic consciousnesses inside this body most likely didn't exist because of this.

But looking at it now, that was clearly not the case.

Hebi could feel that the consciousness dormant within his body, stirred by this pinnacle sword duel of the sea... was being awakened.

That lingering thought belonged to the original master of this body—the Sword God, Shimotsuki Ryuma.

And the content of that lingering thought was distinctly excitement and... yearning.

At this moment, beneath Hebi's mask, Roy also recalled what Brook had told him when handing over Shimotsuki Ryuma's corpse after Thriller Bark.

That was what the swordsman had said before Brook's shadow was extracted from Shimotsuki Ryuma's body.

"Are there so many guys worth slashing on the sea of later generations?"

"It's just a pity that your shadow is too weak."

That was what he had said to Brook.

And its meaning was crystal clear in Hebi's perception now.

"It is an opponent worth slashing."

Therefore, Shusui was crying out.

"It is a powerhouse of later generations."

Therefore, the blood was burning.

"I really want to test his sword!"

Therefore, the body was trembling.

Of course—it was merely residual consciousness. Hebi could naturally suppress and extinguish it with ease.

But—

"Do you... want to swing the sword that badly?"

Hebi could hear the will transmitting from within his body, an intent that even the Jacket-Jacket Fruit could not suppress.

The residual obsession of this body was pleading with him.

He wanted to swing his sword.

Whether in life, or after death.

Thus—

"Forget it."

After pondering for a moment, Hebi sighed inwardly.

He withdrew his original intention to use that 'trump card' and instead softly replied in his heart.

"I was already borrowing your body anyway."

"If in the end, it can be you who collects the final part of this 'wish' for me, it would be quite fitting."

As the murmur in his heart fell, the aura on his body shifted abruptly.

Between nothingness, some kind of power began to spread.

That was the power briefly glimpsed back in Dressrosa.

[Underworld-Underworld Fruit: This is the Underworld]

[Soul Recall — Shimotsuki Ryuma]

Accompanied by the surging of that invisible power—

From within Hebi's body, within the vessel controlled by the Jacket-Jacket Fruit, the consciousness returning from the Underworld had arrived.

"Many thanks."

And in just a moment, he clearly already understood the current situation.

He understood he was already dead, and his corpse had been obtained by someone.

He understood that the other party wanted to borrow his fame to accomplish certain goals.

He understood that he could only return for a very brief period before dying once again.

But it didn't matter.

He didn't care.

Just like in the past.

The world only thought he had slain the incoming enemies to protect his country.

Everyone passed down the legend that he had struck down the flying dragon to protect the Flower Capital.

But the truth was not like that.

The real truth was—he did indeed slay the incoming enemies, and he did indeed strike down the flying dragon.

But all of that was merely because those enemies and that giant beast were opponents worth slashing.

He didn't care about fame and prestige, nor did he care about power and status.

He only wanted to swing his sword.

And coincidentally—right now, standing before him was exactly such an opponent.

And at that very moment—

BOOM!

Hawkeye, thrusting 'Yoru' forward, aiming straight for the Sword God's heart, saw it—

Clang!

Shusui's pitch-black blade had already blocked the path of Yoru's edge.

The blades collided, and the two swords swung and clashed countless times in an instant.

BOOM!

Accompanied by the crumbling ground and the cleaved island, the figures of the two retreated backward simultaneously.

But right now, Hawkeye looked at the figure before him in disbelief.

The sword was still the same sword.

The person was still the same person.

But—

"You..."

Hawkeye could clearly perceive that indescribable palpitation.

In the collision of that last strike, he had noticed the subtle change—it was something Hawkeye found hard to understand but incredibly exhilarating.

The other party's sword had reached the same level as his in that instant.

That was a realm transcending the category of 'technique', a realm beyond Great Swordsman.

Had he broken through during the battle? Or was it something else?

Hawkeye wondered.

But he didn't truly care—that was an unimportant matter.

The only important thing was—

"One strike?"

"One strike."

The two spoke almost simultaneously, saying the same words.

Yes.

At this moment—the sharp auras of the two outlined against each other, and both of them already understood the truth.

The previous stalemate would no longer exist.

Once the Sword God's sword had also reached that level, the next strike... would decide the victor and the vanquished.

The outcome of swordsmen had always been thus.

"Black Blade 'Yoru', Irregular Blade, Shigebana Choji."

Thus, Hawkeye raised his sword.

"Black Blade 'Shusui', Irregular Blade, Dagyaku Choji."

The Sword God also raised his sword.

Before today, in past eras, these two swords and the two men wielding them had never met.

That was a matter of regret, yet also a matter of rejoicing.

The regret lay in that both had suffered the loneliness of being the 'Strongest'.

The rejoicing lay in that precisely because they had never crossed paths—there was this moment.

"Yoru Style: Great Secret Technique — Eternal Night!"

"Shimotsuki Style: Great Secret Technique — Ascending Dragon Slash!"

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