Ryoma stood before them, his posture relaxed yet undeniably formidable. His pink hair seemed to catch the moonlight, framing a face set in a calm, assessing expression. He wasn't twitching with anticipation or roaring threats.
He simply existed as a challenge, an immovable object in their path to escape. Luffy, Zoro, and Nami, burdened by their unconscious crewmates and the desperate need to reach the Merry, felt the weight of his presence.
There was no preamble, no further explanation. Ryoma simply acted. With a casual flick of his wrist, too fast for the eye to track the movement itself, a pair of near-invisible lines of force radiated outwards from his fingertips.
They weren't visible as blades, but rather as momentary distortions in the air, like heat haze rising from hot pavement, accompanied by a faint, high-pitched shing. These slashes didn't target the Straw Hats directly, but the cobblestone ground immediately in front of them.
Shing! Shing!
Two perfectly clean, shallow cuts appeared across the square's paving stones, precisely where the Straw Hats' feet were planted just moments before. The stone didn't shatter, but was neatly sliced, forcing Luffy, Zoro, and Nami to instinctively leap back, adjusting their grip on Usopp and Sanji to avoid stepping on the cut lines.
Zoro's single eye narrowed instantly, his hand instinctively going to Wadō Ichimonji's hilt. He hadn't seen the attack itself, only the result. The air distortion. The speed.
"Invisible slashes?" he muttered, a flicker of recognition, perhaps from some ancient text or whispered rumour of impossible techniques, crossing his face. This wasn't a simple swordsman.
Before Zoro could fully process the nature of the attack, Luffy, reacting purely on instinct as always, took action. With a battle cry born of shock and urgency, he dropped Usopp carefully at Nami's feet and launched himself forward.
"You're in the way!" Luffy roared, stretching his arm back. "Gomu Gomu no… PISTOL!"
His rubber fist shot out with incredible speed, a direct, powerful strike aimed squarely at Ryoma's chest. It was a move that had felled countless foes.
But Ryoma didn't brace, didn't block. He simply moved. With a subtle shift of his weight, a fraction of a second faster than Luffy's attack could reach him, he sidestepped the punch with effortless grace. As Luffy's fist whizzed past his ear, Ryoma's hand moved again, a blur of motion followed by another faint shing.
This time, the invisible slashes didn't target the ground. They targeted Luffy.
Two fine, shimmering lines cut across Luffy's outstretched arm, slicing through his rubbery skin. Not deep gashes, but shallow, stinging cuts that drew pinpricks of blood.
Luffy gasped, surprised and momentarily stunned. Rubber shouldn't be cut so easily! He instinctively retracted his arm, pulling it back towards him. As he did, Ryoma delivered a calm, precise kick to his chest, not powerful enough to seriously injure him, but enough to send him skidding back several feet, forcing him to halt his charge.
Ryoma remained in his spot, his expression still calm, showing no effort. His pink hair didn't even seem to have moved. Luffy stared at the cuts on his arm, then back at Ryoma, confusion warring with irritation.
Zoro stepped forward, pushing Luffy gently back with a hand on his shoulder. "Captain, stay put. Get Usopp and Sanji to the ship." He drew Wadō Ichimonji fully, the white scabbard gleaming. His other two swords were already held ready. "This isn't a fight for the captain."
He locked his gaze onto Ryoma, a serious, focused intensity in his single eye. The playful arrogance from his fight with the generic bounty hunters and even Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine was gone. This opponent was different. Dangerous. He hadn't even needed a sword for those cuts.
Ryoma turned his calm attention to Zoro, a flicker of genuine interest finally appearing in his eyes. "Ah, the Pirate Hunter. I was hoping you'd step up. Your reputation precedes you."
"Move," Zoro stated simply, gripping his swords. "We don't have time for this."
Ryoma gave a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head. "My purpose tonight is to test myself against strength like yours. To see where I stand." He adopted a loose combat stance, his hands open, ready to deliver those invisible attacks. "You are the swordsman of this crew. Your strength is what I seek to measure."
"Then let's get this over with," Zoro growled, adopting his Santōryū stance.
"Go!" Zoro yelled to the others over his shoulder, his focus entirely on Ryoma. "Get back to the Merry!"
Nami didn't need telling twice. The danger was clear. Ryoma's calm power was unsettling, and every second they delayed increased the risk of more Baroque Works agents arriving.
"Luffy! Help me!" Nami shouted, already heaving Usopp further towards the docks with Vivi assisting as best she could.
Luffy hesitated for a moment, watching Zoro face down the mysterious bartender. But the urgency in Nami's voice, and the memory of the explosion, spurred him into action. He grabbed Sanji, throwing the cook over his other shoulder.
"Alright, Zoro! Don't take too long!" Luffy yelled back, before joining Nami and Vivi, the three of them half-carrying, half-dragging their unconscious crewmates towards the Going Merry. Ryoma paid them no mind, his entire focus now on the swordsman before him.
The fight between Zoro and Ryoma began.
It wasn't a flashy, thunderous battle like Luffy's clashes often were. It was a dance of speed, precision, and deadly intent. Zoro attacked with the raw power and relentless aggression of his Three Sword Style, a whirlwind of steel aimed at overwhelming his opponent.
Ryoma, however, moved with an almost supernatural ease, dodging and weaving through Zoro's attacks with minimal effort, always just out of reach.
His defense wasn't just evasion; it was punctuated by those near-invisible slashes. Shing! Shing! Shing! They sliced the air, the ground, forcing Zoro to constantly adjust, to parry blows he could barely see. Zoro relied on his instinct, and the sheer speed of his own swords to deflect or avoid Ryoma's unseen attacks.
He would see a slight distortion in the air, feel a prickling sensation, and bring his swords to bear milliseconds before the cut fully manifested.
Clang! Zoro's swords would connect, not always with Ryoma's body, but sometimes with the incoming invisible force itself, a dull thud of impact against unseen energy. Ryoma wasn't relying on brute strength, but on impossible speed and a technique that seemed to defy the very concept of a physical blade.
Ryoma's attacks were varied. Sometimes they were wide, arcing cuts across the ground to restrict Zoro's movement. Other times they were small, sharp slashes aimed at Zoro's joints or vulnerable points, forcing him to contort or use his swords for painful parries. He never seemed to need to draw a weapon himself, the cuts originating from his hands or fingers.
Zoro, frustrated by the elusive nature of his opponent and his attacks, pressed harder. He unleashed more powerful techniques, attempting to create areas of effect that Ryoma couldn't simply evade.
"Santōryū… Oni Giri!" He burst forward with his signature crossing slash, a powerful wave of steel.
Ryoma didn't meet it head-on. He flowed around it, a brief, shimmering barrier appearing around him as Zoro's swords passed harmlessly by. Then, shing! shing!, two sharp cuts targeted Zoro's back as he recovered from the attack. Zoro grunted, twisting to block with one sword, the force stinging through his arm.
"Santōryū… Tora Gari!"
Again, Ryoma didn't directly counter. He danced away, leaving Zoro's powerful slashes to carve into the already damaged square. His calm demeanor never broke, even as Zoro's intent to harm him was palpable.
The fight stretched on. Minutes felt like an eternity as steel clashed against unseen force. Ryoma wasn't trying to defeat Zoro, not decisively. He seemed to be… observing. Testing. Pushing just hard enough to see Zoro's limits, his reactions, the depth of his skill and resilience. He forced Zoro to adapt, to fight an opponent unlike any he had encountered before.
Meanwhile, in the background, the figures of Luffy, Nami, and Vivi, laden with Usopp and Sanji, grew smaller as they neared the docks. The creak of the Merry's gangplank, the shouts of urgency – they were faint sounds carried on the wind, a reminder of the race against time that Zoro's fight was facilitating.
Zoro knew this. He could hear the sounds of his crew escaping. He just had to hold this guy off. He focused, pushing past the fatigue, reading Ryoma's movements, predicting the almost-invisible slashes through sheer intuition honed by years of training.
Ryoma, on his part, continued his calm assessment. He would push Zoro to use a powerful technique, observe how he recovered, and then apply pressure with his precise cuts. He wasn't using overwhelming force, but rather perfect application of a unique ability combined with incredible speed and insight into swordsmanship.
He could tell Zoro was learning, adapting, growing stronger even in this brief exchange.
After what felt like a considerable amount of time, with the sounds from the docks indicating the others were likely reaching the ship, Ryoma suddenly broke off the engagement. He didn't disengage violently, but simply took several steps back, his movements fluid and controlled. He lowered his hands slightly, the charged air around him dissipating.
Zoro, breathing heavily, sword points still directed at Ryoma, watched him, wary.
A genuine smile, not sharp or predatory, but one of pleasant satisfaction, spread across Ryoma's face. It was the smile of someone who had found something interesting.
"Remarkable," Ryoma said, his voice soft but clear in the sudden quiet. "Your speed, your prediction… To handle Dismantle at this level of proficiency… You truly are something special, Roronoa Zoro."
Zoro remained silent, his stance defensive. Praise from this opponent felt… strange.
Ryoma tilted his head slightly, his smile unwavering. "You deflected my attacks, you anticipated them. But tell me," he paused, his gaze intense, analytical. "Are you capable of cutting steel yet?"
The question hung in the air, a specific benchmark in the path of a swordsman. It wasn't a challenge to prove it now, but a question about Zoro's current understanding, his level of mastery over his own blade and the world around him.
Zoro met Ryoma's gaze, his own eyes reflecting the determination forged through countless battles and relentless training. He thought of Kuina, of his promise, of the path he walked.
"Reaching it," Zoro replied, his voice firm, confident. "I'm reaching that level."
Ryoma nodded slowly, his smile deepening with genuine approval. "I see. That's good to know." He didn't press further, didn't demand a demonstration. The answer was enough.
He turned then, turning his back on the formidable swordsman who could have struck him down, a casual dismissal of the danger. He raised a hand, not in surrender, but in a simple farewell wave towards the docks where the Going Merry would soon be sailing.
"That was enough for tonight," Ryoma called out, his voice carrying through the night. "Thank you for the test, Pirate Hunter."
With that, Ryoma turned and began walking away from the ruined square, away from the docks, disappearing back into the shadows of Whiskey Peak as calmly as he had appeared. He didn't look back. He was satisfied. He had seen what he needed to see. The Straw Hats had escaped, bought time by their swordsman.
And Ryoma had gotten his fight, his assessment, his step towards whatever ambition drove him in this dangerous world. Though, the edges of his lips rose as he muttered to himself.
"That was the weakest output of Dismantle."