Three years ago, a flash of light split the sky over a forgotten island in the East Blue. In the center of a smoking crater lay a young man—tanned skin, yellow hair only on the top of his head, eyes as red as burning coals. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he got there. He only knew his name: Baki.
But there was something more.
Even in that moment of confusion, the air around him felt heavy. Animals fled. People fainted at his approach. Unbeknownst to him, Baki had arrived in the world of One Piece with the King's Haki awakened—a power possessed only by the rarest and most dominant.
---
With no understanding of the language, no money, no allies, Baki was driven into the alleys. For six months, he lived like an animal—eating garbage, sleeping in ruins, fighting rats for scraps. But he didn't complain.
He loved to fight.
Every confrontation, even against beggars or gangs, was a chance to feel the heat of battle. The sound of bones breaking, the smell of blood, the look of fear—it all fueled something inside him. An instinct. A passion.
---
One night, five members of a local gang surrounded him. Armed and laughing, they advanced. But Baki didn't back down. He savored the moment.
The first blow came—too slow. Baki dodged it easily, breaking the attacker's arm and brutally knocking the others down. When the last one tried to flee, Baki unintentionally released a wave of King's Haki.
The man fell unconscious before he was even touched.
Baki looked around. The ground shook. The air seemed to vibrate. He didn't understand what it was—but he knew it was his.
---
From that night on, Baki became an urban legend. He hunted gangs, took on entire groups alone. Not for justice—but for pleasure. Every fight was a dance. Every enemy defeated, a note in his symphony of violence.
He discovered he could feel movements before they happened, as if the world moved in slow motion. The cuts tore at his skin, but didn't pierce his muscles. He was a living wall—and he liked it.
---
Baki's fame reached Smoker, captain of the Marine base in Loguetown. Instead of hunting him, Smoker observed him. He saw potential. And offered a deal:
"You want to survive? Work for me. Learn. Evolve."
Baki accepted. For two years, he trained under Smoker. He learned Rokushiki, hand-to-hand combat techniques that few mastered. In secret, he developed his Haki—Observation Haki, Armament Haki—and began to understand the power of the King's Haki that already resided within him.
But Smoker knew: Baki was no soldier. He was a beast in the process of being tamed. And beasts don't stay in cages for long.
---
On the morning of his departure, Baki invaded the Marine base. Marines tried to stop him—they all fell. Smoker faced him, but was brutally defeated. Baki pressed his head to the ground, his eyes burning like fire.
> "Smoker, thanks to you, I evolved in peace. I won't kill you. But I have a promise to keep."
He ripped the World Government flag from the wall and revealed 300,000 belly hidden behind it. He threw the money into a torn curtain, made a makeshift bag, and left the base, leaving a trail of bodies and silence.
---
As he left, the sun was rising on the horizon. Baki walked through the streets, ignoring the frightened looks. He stopped in front of a still-open sword shop. There, he demanded a cursed blade from the old owner, Ipponmatsu.
"Give me your cursed swords, or I'll kill you and your wife!"
Ipponmatsu handed over two swords:
- Sandai Kitetsu—a cursed blade, known to bring misfortune to its wielders.
- Yubashiri—a light and elegant sword of superior quality.
Baki took both in one hand, feeling the weight and vibration of the Kitetsu. He smiled.
He tossed a gold coin on the counter—not out of respect, but out of contempt. As if to say, "Your life is worth this."
As he left the shop, the sun was already completely illuminating Loguetown. Baki walked toward the harbor, two swords on his back and a promise burning in his heart.
Days after leaving Loguetown, Baki sailed alone on a small ship he had commandeered from the Navy. With 300,000 belly hidden beneath the deck and two swords on his back—Sandai Kitetsu and Yubashiri—he headed toward the unknown.
In a tavern on a port island called Kujira, he heard something that caught his attention.
"There's a swordsman on a neighboring island… he lives in a warrior's graveyard. They say he trains with real swords, and since he arrived, more bodies have been buried there."
"A warrior's graveyard? Does that exist?"
"Yes. And they say he's defeated bounty hunters and pirates who tried to test him. No one comes away unscathed."
Baki wasn't looking for fame. He was looking for monsters. Warriors who wouldn't flinch in the face of death. And if this swordsman was everything they said he was… he could be the first.
The neighboring island was small, covered in dense forests and forgotten trails. In the center, an ancient swordsmen's cemetery, where broken blades lay as testaments to defeats and broken promises.
But now, there were new graves. Fresh. Poorly marked. And among them, stains of dried blood.
Baki arrived at the site at dusk. The fog was thick, the silence absolute. Among the graves, he saw a green-haired man, training with real swords—three sharp blades slicing the air with deadly precision.
Zoro wasn't there to gaze. He was there to prepare to kill.
Baki approached unhurriedly. Zoro stopped, without turning his head.
Zoro: "If you came to steal swords, you'll leave without arms."
Baki (calmly): "I didn't come to steal. I came to deliver."
Zoro turned, his eyes narrowed.
Zoro: "To deliver?"
Baki threw the makeshift curtain to the ground. The two swords gleamed in the dim light.
Baki: "Sandai Kitetsu. Cursed. Yubashiri. Rare. Both are yours… if you have the courage to accept them."
Zoro approached, eyeing the Kitetsu with respect and caution.
Zoro: "This blade… it thirsts for blood. I've heard of it. Many have died trying to use it."
Baki: "It chooses who lives. And I choose who fights by my side."
Zoro looked at Baki suspiciously.
Zoro: "You want me to follow you?"
Baki: "I want you to fight with me. As my swordsman."
Zoro crossed his arms, staring Baki down.
Zoro: "I don't follow just anyone. If you want me to join your crew… you'll have to defeat me."
Baki smiled. His red eyes burned with excitement.
Baki: "Then prove to me that I'm weak."
Zoro took the Sandai Kitetsu. The blade vibrated in his hand, but he didn't reject it. Then he removed the Wado Ichimonji—his most precious sword—from his waist and picked up the Yubashiri.
With the three swords in hand, Zoro placed the Wado Ichimonji between his teeth.
Zoro: "If you fall... don't ask me for mercy."
Baki (without hesitation): "If I fall... smile. Because you will have defeated a monster."
The cemetery, though forgotten, was not empty. Wandering swordsmen, treasure hunters, and even a group of pirates searching for legendary swords were hidden among the trees and graves. They watched in silence, drawn by the aura of the two warriors.
An old swordsman muttered:
"The one with the red eyes... is the monster of Loguetown. And the other... is Roronoa Zoro. This duel... will become history."
---
Zoro advanced with explosive speed. The three blades sliced through the air in unison—the Kitetsu in his right hand, the Yubashiri in his left, and the Wado Ichimonji between his teeth.
Baki dodged by millimeters, feeling the blade's edge graze his skin. Without hesitation, he countered with a punch straight to the abdomen.
Zoro crossed his swords to block, but the impact reverberated throughout his body. He was thrown back, his feet dragging dirt.
Zoro: "You don't fight like someone who wants to win... you fight like someone who wants to destroy."
Baki advanced again. His blows were heavy, each one like a sledgehammer. Zoro dodged, countered with crosscuts, spun with precision, using Santoryu in its most aggressive form. He tried to create space with spiraling attacks, but Baki didn't back down. He smiled—he was enjoying himself.
Zoro roared and lunged forward with Oni Giri, his most ferocious triple attack—slashing in three directions at once, with lethal precision. The blades flashed beneath the mist, tearing the air with fury.
Baki didn't move.
He dug his feet into the ground, opened his arms, and blocked with his bare forearms, without Haki, without technique—just pure muscle and instinct.
The sound of impact echoed like thunder. The blades of Wado Ichimonji, Kitetsu, and Yubashiri scraped his skin, leaving shallow cuts, but didn't penetrate.
Zoro recoiled, his eyes wide.
Zoro: "You stopped my Oni Giri with your body…? That's not normal. What are you made of?"
Baki looked at the cuts on his arms, the blood slowly seeping out. He smiled.
Baki: "I'm made for this. Strikes like that… only wake me up."
Zoro spun in the air and attempted another attack, but Baki used Soru, disappearing for a moment and reappearing behind Zoro with a kick that sent him crashing into a tombstone.
Zoro stood up, panting, blood dripping from his shoulder.
Zoro: "You're strong… but strength isn't everything."
Baki stopped, his eyes fixed on Zoro.
Baki: "You fight with technique. I fight because it's the only thing that makes me feel alive."
Zoro: "If I ever beat you… don't expect me to keep following you. I won't bow my head to someone who can't keep me down."
Baki approached slowly. The air around him grew heavy. The swords stuck in the ground began to vibrate. Zoro felt the pressure—something invisible and crushing. The earth shook. Some blades shattered.
The hidden observers began to faint. A pirate fell to his knees, trembling.
"What... is this? What kind of power is this?!"
Zoro resisted. He stared, even though he didn't understand.
Zoro: "I don't know what you're doing... but if this is part of you, then strike me down with it."
Baki lunged forward with one last blow—a direct punch, with brute force. Zoro crossed his Wado Ichimonji, Kitetsu, and Yubashiri to block, but the impact threw him against a tombstone, which split in two.
Zoro fell to his knees, panting. The three swords still in his hands, trembling.
Zoro: "You win."
Baki approached, held out his hand.
Baki: "Then come. And if one day you surpass me... I'll smile before I fall."
Zoro looked at the outstretched hand. He was breathing deeply, his body aching, but his gaze firm. He gripped the hand tightly.