Its been a year since the passing of kuina
Throughout the entire year Zoro has been training non stop . All he thinks about is becoming strong and swords .Even in his dreams , he dreams about swords and becoming strong .
Since no one was strong enough to face him in the Dojo , his opponent was Koushiro and Koushirou never made it easy for Zoro , he pushed him to his absolute limits . He taught Zoro more and more about what it means to become a swordsman and how to become one . Meditatiomorethe way of the sword more . To Koushirou Zoro was akin to his disciple.
One evening Koushiro sensed a disturbance around the village , and he knew what had caused that disturbance. He took Zoro with him to teach him a valuable lesson .
The moon hung low over Shimotsuki Village, its silver light catching on the swaying curtains of wisteria that ringed the outskirts. For as long as Zoro could remember, the flowers had been there, their delicate petals dancing in the night breeze. They were beautiful, sure — but to him, they were just flowers.
Tonight, he would learn otherwise.
Koushirou slid open the dojo door with his usual quiet grace. "Zoro," he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made the boy's hand pause on the hilt of his sword. "Come with me and make haste "
Zoro stood, Wadō Ichimonji in hand. The sword's pure white scabbard gleamed under the moonlight, its steel a deep, shifting black that seemed to drink in the light — a Nichirin blade of rare make, older than the village itself. It was the last thing Kuina had left him, and Zoro never went anywhere without it.
"Is something wrong?" Zoro asked.
"You'll see."
They moved through the empty streets, the night unnervingly still — until the silence was broken by a wet, tearing sound. Zoro's head snapped toward it, and his stomach tightened at the sight ahead.
A figure crouched In the dirt, its pale, sickly skin stretched too tight over its frame, its arms ending in claws that ripped through flesh with ease. A dead villager lay beneath it, lifeless eyes staring at the stars.
"Great , more food , looks like stumbled into a treasure trove tonight . Breaking through that wisteria was a pain the ass "The demon said in a ragged voice
"What the hell is that?" Zoro's voice cracked.
Koushirou didn't even slow his pace. "A demon," he said simply, as if pointing out a stray dog. "A predator that feeds on humans. It can only be killed by sunlight… or by a Nichirin blade severing its neck."
"What are you , a demon slayer but that doesnt matter because whether you are or not im still going to kill and devour you " The demon said as it prepared itself for an attack
Zoro gripped Wadō harder. "Then I can—"
"No." Koushirou's voice was like a closed door. "You aren't ready. Watch, listen, and learn."
The demon's eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Its mouth split into a grin too wide for its face, revealing jagged teeth dripping with blood.
It lunged.
Koushirou's sword was already drawn — not with the sound of steel scraping against wood, but with the soft, almost inaudible whisper of iaido. He met the demon's charge in a single flowing motion, his blade catching the moonlight before slicing across the creature's chest.
The demon staggered back, hissing. Flesh knit back together in seconds.
"What the !!you are a demon slayer ,thats a nichirin blade !! Damnn youu!!"The demon lunged again
"Most blades would fail here," Koushirou said, never taking his eyes off his opponent. "But Nichirin blades drink in sunlight over years of forging. It is the only steel that can pierce their regeneration."
Zoro's eyes darted to the wisteria that hung nearby, their petals trembling. "Then why haven't we seen demons before?"
"Because of those flowers," Koushirou replied, stepping aside as the demon's claws sliced through empty air. His counter cut deep into its thigh. "Wisteria contains a poison deadly to demons. They avoid it instinctively. This village has been surrounded by it for generations. Tonight…" His blade spun in a lazy but deadly arc, forcing the demon back again. "…something managed to slip through."
Koushirou's movements were nothing like Zoro's wild, relentless style. Each strike was deliberate, each step placed with purpose.
"You can learn the forms," he said between motions, "but forms mean nothing without intent. Observe."
The demon roared, rushing in once more.
Koushirou exhaled slowly. "Iaido — the art of drawing and cutting in one breath."
His sword disappeared into its scabbard in a blink. For a moment, it seemed as though he had lowered his guard entirely. The demon leapt — claws raised high — and in that same heartbeat, Koushirou's blade flashed out in a single, perfect arc.
The strike was so fast Zoro didn't see it land — only the moment after, when the demon's head slid cleanly from its shoulders. Its body fell with a dull thud, the severed neck hissing with faint smoke before crumbling into ash.
"No , this was supposed to be my treasure trove , why did it have to end like this !!" Those were the demons last words
Koushirou sheathed his blade with the same calm
Zoro stared at the pile of ash where the monster had been. His pulse still raced, his knuckles white on Wadō's hilt. "I can do that," he said finally, his voice low.
"One day," Koushirou answered, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "But today, you will train. You will master the techniques with discipline. Until then, you will not face a demon head-on."
Zoro didn't argue. Not because he agreed — but because the image of that thing's teeth, and the ease with which it had torn through a man, was still burned into his mind.
The wisteria swayed gently again as the night wind passed, but Zoro kept his gaze fixed on the forest beyond. One day, he promised silently. One day, he'd take his Wadō Ichimonji and walk out there — ready to face whoever stood in his way of becoming the greatest .