The moment the boy stammered his reply, a roar shattered the tense air—an earth-quaking bellow that snapped every head toward the docks.
"WHO DARES SPILL MY MEN'S BLOOD IN MY DOMAIN?!"
The very ground beneath Minato Kaze trembled as if responding to that challenge. Windows rattled, shutters shook, and even the cobblestones seemed to pulse. The pirate boy at Isshin's feet wet himself, terror pinning him in place.
Around the fortified corner of the harbormaster's office, a living mountain of flesh loomed into view. Ironfang Kaito.
He was easily thirty feet tall. Scars zigzagged across sunbaked leather skin. Muscles bulged in rolling waves beneath a crude, oversized samurai vest that strained against his colossal torso. His legs were tree trunks encased in patched leather trousers. But it was his face that froze every heartbeat: a bestial maw bristling with two blackened tusks—each as long as Isshin's arm—jutting from a jaw so wide it seemed inhuman. And clutched in one gargantuan hand was a kanabō whose spiked head was thicker than Isshin's torso.
Kaito's bloodshot eyes, tiny in that monstrous face, swept over the fallen pirates, then fixed on Isshin. A rumbling growl echoed in his chest.
"You?" Kaito thundered, each word vibrating the air. He pointed a finger like a small tree trunk at the young ronin. "This… twig? You spilled my men's blood? Gaburara! Did you climb out of some dusty history book to polish my tusks with your bones?" His laughter boomed like a boulder rolling downhill, birds scattering in panicked flight.
Isshin remained perfectly still, the brim of his kasa hiding his expression. A cold Haki aura coiled around Shura as he replied, voice clear despite Kaito's thunderous mic. "I am Isshin Ashina. I have come to free Minato Kaze from your tyranny, Ironfang."
Kaito's laugh died. His snarling mouth stretched into a cruel grin, iron fangs gleaming. "Ashina? Never heard of you. But guts are amusing—too bad they only make for a louder scream when crushed." He hefted his kanabō. Its iron spikes scraped the cobbles with a deathly rasp. "Prepare to be erased, relic!"
With a roar that shook the sky, Kaito charged. His massive strides covered half the harbor in two steps. Shoppers and fishermen fled before his looming shadow. He lifted the kanabō overhead—a crushing strike meant to cleave Isshin in two.
Isshin's body screamed—broken ribs, cracked collarbone, wounds still aching from the old fight—but his Haki flared. He lunged to the side in a blur of motion, barely avoiding the whistling, searing impact that obliterated the street where he'd stood.
CRRAAAAASSSH!
Cobblestones exploded outward as if hurled by an unseen catapult, dust and debris choking the air. Isshin skidded, found purchase on a broken cartwheel, and rolled into a tight crouch, eyes never leaving the giant.
"Gaburara! Stand still and die, you gnat!" Kaito bellowed and swung his kanabō in a wide, horizontal arc—an attempt to sweep Isshin like fallen leaves. The blast of wind rattled Isshin's kasa.
Isshin dropped low to the earth, fingertips brushing loose gravel. Crimson slashes tracked behind him as chunks of stone and wood shivered under the force of Kaito's swing. When the roar died, Isshin sprang up, weaving between the giant's legs, every movement measured to avoid the deadly arcs.
He circled: each step a muted thump of urgency. The fight was not a sprint, but a rhythm—strike, evade, strike, evade—choreographed by Haki and will.
Kaito stalked him, each step widening the cracks in the street. He lifted a foot, aiming to crush Isshin beneath his sandal. The air quivered with anticipation. Isshin's Observation Haki screamed warning: a heavy, downward stomp.
At the last moment, Isshin darted sideways, arms rotating in a perfect parry. He slid a breath's width from the giant's heel as it slammed the ground, splintering wood beneath. Rock and dust sprayed like blood.
"Your strength is impressive, beast," Isshin grunted, eyes burning beneath the kasa. "Your skill is brutish."
Kaito roared, lifting the kanabō for another overhead strike. Isshin dashed forward, rising onto one knee to slip beneath the blow. The kanabō's head slammed into the stone façade of a warehouse, sending splinters flying. Walls shattered, the roof sagging.
Isshin darted in close—too close for Kaito to swing freely—sliding along the giant's forearm. His Haki coalesced at Shura's edge, black aura flickering. He slashed at Kaito's ankle, aiming to sever the giant's support.
CLANG!
Steel rang against iron-hard flesh. The blade bit, scoring a deep gash that spewed dark ichor. Kaito stumbled—just a hair's breadth of falter, but enough—and his roar turned to a bellow of rage.
"Insolent worm!"
The giant's spiked club whirled in a deadly dance. Its head thundered toward Isshin's back. He rolled, Haki flaring to protect him from the burst of rock and shards. Glass broke in shuttered windows. A fish cart exploded, fish flapping on the ground like dying stars.
Isshin sprang to his feet, circling again, clenching Shura's hilt. He felt each rib protest—a reminder of his mortality—but he could not yield. Around him, terrified villagers huddled in doorways, eyes wide with disbelief.
Kaito raised his kanabō for a sweeping overhead crescent. "I'll grind you into fish bait!" he roared, bringing the club down in a cataclysmic blow meant to flatten buildings and bones alike.
Isshin timed his dodge to the nanosecond, sliding under the swinging club. The handle brushed his back, the collision sending hot sparks of pressure and shudders through his flesh—his Haki flared to keep his bones from shattering. A tsunami of force rippled through him, sending him skidding across broken carts.
When Isshin lay on one elbow, the world spun. But through the haze, he saw Kaito lift the club again—slowly, carelessly, convinced of his invincibility. A chance. A fleeting window.
Isshin's Haki bolstered his legs. He sprang upward, using the rebound to launch himself onto the kanabō's shaft as though scaling a ramp. Kaito's head whipped back—movement too slow to catch the boy.
"What?!" The giant's roar cracked the sky as Isshin sprinted up the rough wood, every step burning his legs. The giant seized the club with his free hand, trying to wrench Isshin off.
The boy scrambled higher, pressing near Kaito's elbow. He slashed again—Haki flaring so brightly it momentarily dimmed the sun—a precise cut into the giant's bicep. Dark ichor welled. Kaito roared, his arm jerking like a flayed limb. Isshin grasped the rough iron spike studded along the shaft, using it to haul himself upward while the giant's other massive fingers reached to crush him.
The giant rammed his shoulder into a sturdy stone warehouse roof, trying to dislodge the boy. The stones crumbled in a hail of shards. Isshin dangled precariously, Haki roaring to shield him from razor-sharp debris. He tucked into a roll, using the momentum to fling himself toward Kaito's back—an impossible leap fueled by will and pain.
He landed with a painful thud on the giant's shoulder, sliding down onto a broad, trembling patch of vest fabric. Kaito howled, bucking like a berserk bull. Isshin gripped folds of the vest, his hands slick with the giant's sweat and grime. Each movement cost him agony: ribs protesting, shoulder screaming, Haki flickering at the brink of exhaustion.
"Get off me, you little pest!" Kaito roared, spinning violently. His tusks scraped against a collapsed market stall. Splintered wood rained down.
Isshin kept his balance, using Kaito's momentum to roll behind him. He clung to the mount of muscle beneath the giant's trapezius. Kaito's bulging eyes snapped back, searching for the boy. With every twitch of Kaito's shoulder, the weight threatened to fling Isshin into shards of stone and metal below.
He inched upward—hand over hand, embedding Haki into Shura's tip so it wouldn't slip—toward the summit of Kaito's bowed head. Below him, Kaito's eye—bigger than a dinner plate—turned in puzzled fury.
"For Minato Kaze! For the lives you've stolen!" Isshin's voice cut through the roar like a blade.
He planted his feet on Kaito's scalp, surveying the monstrous eye and the iron tusks just beneath. His heart pounded—each beat a hammer. Every rib felt like searing embers. His Haki throbbed, teetering on collapse. Yet his resolve burned brighter: he could not fail.
Kaito's shoulders heaved as he tried to shrug Isshin off. The giant twisted, sending Isshin keening on edges of vest and hair. Kaito's breath reeked of smoke and blood. He raised a massive hand, fingers closing like a vice.
Isshin tensed. Observation Haki latched onto the giant's intention: the hand would swing and crush him like a stone. He gathered the last of his energy, muscles coiling.
At the apex of Kaito's upward thrust, Isshin leaped—twisting in midair—crossing the scant inches between Kaito's shoulder and his exposed brow. He landed with knees bent, Shura raised high, Haki blooming along its entire length.
"DEATH!" Isshin roared, voice raw and echoing like steel on steel.
He drove Shura down with every ounce of remaining will. The Haki-clad blade penetrated Kaito's eyelid in a burst of terrible hiss, pierced the massive eyeball with a sickening squelch, and shattered bone with a thunderous crunch. Shura buried deep into the giant's brain. A geyser of black ichor spurted like midnight lightning.
At first, Kaito's body froze—muscles locked in impossible tension, tusks clacking. His roar twisted into a gargantuan gurgle, more shock than pain. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his form went limp. The remaining steam of Haki left his eyes, extinguishing the infernal glow.
THOOOOOOOM!
The giant collapsed, head slamming into the harbor cobbles like a collapsing mountain. The impact echoed across Minato Kaze, shaking walls, pulverizing fish stalls, and sending a volley of dust skyward. Isshin flew off in a low arc, rolling to his feet just before Kaito's head smashed down.
He staggered, breathing raggedly, pain lancing from every shattered rib and broken collarbone. Shura—trembling in his hand—dripped black ichor and blood. He yanked off his kasa, letting it fall to the ground, face revealed: sweat, grime, and blood streaked down his young cheeks. His eyes, though fierce, flickered with exhaustion.
Around him, stunned villagers emerged from hiding. Mouths hung open as they stared at their fallen nightmare. A moment of silence—fragile as a breath held—settled over Minato Kaze.
Then, a single cheer blossomed into a roar of relief and hope. Women wept openly, children laughed in disbelief. Fishermen dropped nets, old men raised fists. The oppressive pall that had choked the harbor for months lifted in an instant.
Isshin swayed, every step a victory over agony. He could barely stand, but he raised Shura overhead. Haki pulsed one final time in a faint shimmer before vanishing entirely. His body trembled, but his voice rang clear:
"Minato Kaze is free."
As the villagers surged forward—tears in their eyes, gratitude on trembling lips—Isshin Ashina, barely twenty and already a legend born from steel and spirit, allowed himself a moment to collapse. Yet in that collapse, he felt the fierce pride of having reclaimed justice. The giant lay silent behind him, and in the rising sun's glow, a new dawn broke over Minato Kaze.