One sword was not enough.
The realization came to Arlo as he sat in his room, Venuzdonoa's shadow resting at his feet. The longsword was perfect for what it was—a weapon of overwhelming power, designed to channel limitless Haki into devastating strikes.
But Wano was based around Edo period Japan. It had samurai and sumarai's didn't use longswords ,generally at least.
There techniques were built around the katana.
Arlo stood. His shadow expanded beneath him.
Time to forge another blade.
The process was same as before.
Materials drawn from Imaginary Space. Iron. Steel. Alloys. Wano Steel with its mystical properties humming in the air. All of it arranged in precise geometric patterns, floating before him in the courtyard.
This time, the design would be different.
<
"A katana. Long blade, slight curve. Almost straight. Traditional Wano style but optimized for maximum cutting power."
<
"Yes. And I have a name for it already."
<
"Ame no Ohabari. The blade Izanagi used to kill his son Kagutsuchi. A Totsuka no Tsurugi from myth."
<
Arlo activated Transmutation.
The materials flowed together. Molecules realigning, impurities burning away, structure forming with mathematical precision. The katana took shape in the air before him.
The blade emerged first. Longer than a traditional katana, the curve subtle—almost imperceptible. The edge gleamed with that impossible sharpness he'd learned to create, capable of cutting through anything given enough force behind it.
The steel was dark. Not quite black, but deep gray with hints of crimson running through it like veins. The Wano Steel integrated perfectly, its mystical properties spreading through the entire structure.
Guard. Handle. All of it formed piece by piece, each component precisely measured.
The katana hung in the air, complete in form but not in essence.
<
"Commence"
The blade vanished into his shadow, disappearing into Imaginary Space. In that timeless realm, Raphael began channeling Arlo's Armament Haki through the steel. Second after second compressed into eternities. Years of exposure distilled into heartbeats.
The katana drank it in. Absorbed the Haki, let it seep into every molecule, every atom. The metal darkened. Hardened. Transformed.
It took almost two days in physical world.
During this time he trained the sword styles he copied from Rocks, Harald and Ryuma (He scanned the body of ryuma later) so he could optimise them for his own use.
He also went Family and business gathering that were held along with Sachiko as he is getting involved in business side sooner or later.
Centuries compressed in Imaginary Space.
<
Good.
Two swords. Two styles. Both deadly in their own right.
But theory meant nothing without testing.
Arlo closed his eyes. His consciousness sank inward, passing through layers of reality until he stood within his Imaginary Space.
The void stretched in all directions. Infinite. Formless. A realm of pure potential waiting to be shaped.
He raised his hand.
Mountains rose.
Actual mountains, towering peaks of stone and dirt that pierced an artificial sky. Forests spread at their bases—dense, ancient, filled with trees hundreds of meters tall.
This was his domain. Here, he could create anything. Destroy anything. Reality bent to his will because this infinite space was essentially a part of him.
Arlo summoned Venuzdonoa.
The shadow at his feet rippled. Black particles gathered, forming that familiar void-shape before inverting to reveal the dark longsword. He grasped the hilt and the weapon came alive, humming with contained power.
Time to see what it could do.
He stepped forward. Planted his feet. Channeled Armament Haki through his body and into the blade.
The sword turned black. Not the permanent black of its forged state, but the deeper black of active Haki coating. Energy crackled along the edge, visible as distortions in the air.
Arlo swung.
Horizontal. Clean. Perfect form drawing on techniques from Rocks and Harald, synthesized and optimized.
The slash left his blade as a wave of darkness.
Black energy, deep as the void between stars, carved through space itself. The wave expanded as it traveled, growing from a thin line into a crescent of annihilation. Everything it touched simply ceased to exist, erased.
The forest in its path vanished. Trees that had stood hundreds of meters tall were gone before they could fall. The wave continued, striking the mountain beyond.
The peak split.
Split—a perfectly clean cut that ran from summit to base. The two halves began to slide apart, exposing the smooth cut surface where the slash had passed through solid stone like it was air.
Then the wave continued. Struck the next mountain. And the next. Three peaks fell before the energy finally dissipated.
The devastation was absolute. Where dense forest had stood moments before, only bare earth remained. Three mountains had been reduced to rubble and halves, their peaks toppled by a single strike.
<
Arlo nodded slowly. The power was there. Overwhelming. Absolute.
He dismissed Venuzdonoa, the blade dissolving back into shadow.
Now for the other one.
Ame no Ohabari materialized in his hand. The long katana felt lighter and more responsive. Built for Speed rather than Ashton hall.
He assumed the stance. Traditional Wano swordsmanship, drawing on techniques he'd absorbed from legendary blades and their wielders.
Haki flowed into the katana. The blade turned black, but this time the energy that gathered along its edge carried a different quality. Not the void-dark of Venuzdonoa.
But Crimson.
Red energy, bright as fresh blood, crackling along the cutting surface.
Arlo drew the blade in a diagonal slash.
The crimson wave erupted from the edge. It moved faster than Venuzdonoa's darkness—sharper, more focused, designed for precision rather than overwhelming force.
The wave struck the reformed forest. Trees fell in perfect lines, cut so cleanly that their tops slid off their trunks without disturbing the bark. The slash continued, carving through the reconstructed mountains.
The cuts were Precise. Where Venuzdonoa obliterated, Ame no Ohabari dissected.
The crimson energy carved a line through three mountain ranges before finally fading. Behind it, perfectly straight cuts revealed stone interiors, clean enough to see individual layers of sediment.
<
Arlo stood between the devastation of both strikes. Black annihilation to his left. Crimson precision to his right.
Both devastating and absolute.
He smiled.
Satisfactory.
The terrain dissolved. Mountains crumbled back into formless energy. Forests faded. The Imaginary Space returned to its default state—infinite void waiting to be shaped.
Arlo dismissed Ame no Ohabari and let his consciousness rise back to the physical world.
He opened his eyes in his courtyard. Dawn was breaking. The first light of morning painted the sky in shades of gold and rose.
Training complete. Results confirmed it. Both blades performed beyond expectations.
Arlo stood and summoned Ame no Ohabari properly—not the quick materialization he'd used in Imaginary Space, but the full ritual. Black particles gathered. Shadow formed. The blade inverted and revealed itself.
This time, a sheath came with it. Black lacquered wood with red accents, designed to complement the katana's aesthetic. Arlo slid the blade home with a soft click.
Perfect fit.
He tied the sheath to his waist, adjusting it until the angle felt natural. The weight settled comfortably against his hip. Traditional Wano style. A young samurai carrying his sword through the estate.
Except he was five years old and the sword could split mountains.
Details.
Arlo walked back toward the main house. The morning was quiet. Servants hadn't woken yet. Only the soft sounds of dawn—birds beginning to sing, wind rustling through leaves.
He passed through the garden. Entered a corridor. His footsteps barely made sound on the polished wood floors.
Then he turned a corner and nearly collided with someone.
"Oh!"
Sachiko.
She'd been walking the other direction, probably heading to the kitchen for morning tea. Her eyes widened as she stopped short, hands coming up instinctively.
Then her gaze dropped.
To the katana at his waist.
"Arlo-kun..." Her voice carried surprise. Curiosity. "Is that...?"
He nodded. "A katana. I've been working on it."
"Working on it?" She knelt down to his eye level, which given his five-year-old height meant she was quite close. Her attention fixed on the sheathed blade. "What do you mean?"
"Learning blacksmithing." The lie came very easy. Technically true if you counted Transmutation and absorbed memories as "learning." "I wanted to make something. To understand how it works."
Sachiko's expression shifted slightly. That mix of surprise and pride he'd seen before when he did something unexpectedly mature. "May I see it?"
Arlo drew the blade slowly. Three inches. Six. Then the full length, revealing the dark steel with its crimson highlights.
The katana caught the morning light. The edge gleamed. The careful craftsmanship was evident even to someone who knew nothing about swords—perfect balance, flawless geometry, the kind of quality that came from master-level skill.
Sachiko's breath caught.
"Arlo-kun... this is..." She reached out, fingers hovering near the blade without touching. "This is incredible. Did you really make this?"
"Yes. With help from books and practice." Another technical truth. "I call it Ame no Ohabari."
"Ame no Ohabari..." She repeated the name softly, testing how it sounded. "The blade of Izanagi. That's... quite an ambitious name for your first creation."
"I was reading about it and it just occurred to me: why don't I name it that?"
Sachiko looked from the blade to his face, then back again. Her expression was doing something complicated—pride, wonder, a hint of disbelief, and underneath it all that ever-present affection she always wore when looking at him.
"My little brother is a blacksmith now." Her voice carried that playful lilt. "And apparently a very talented one. Look at this craftsmanship! Even I can tell it's exceptional quality."
She reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Is there anything you can't do? You're so talented, Arlo-kun. So smart and skilled and..." Her eyes got that slightly misty quality they sometimes did. "And so cute while doing it all!"
Arlo felt heat rise to his cheeks. The embarrassment was immediate and involuntary—a five-year-old's body reacting to his sister's doting regardless of his adult consciousness.
"Sachiko-nee..."
"Look at you blushing!" She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "My adorable little genius brother who forges legendary swords and gets embarrassed when his sister compliments him."
Before he could respond, she pulled him into a hug. The katana was still in his hand, carefully angled away, but she didn't seem to care. Her arms wrapped around him with that gentle strength, that absolute security.
"I'm so proud of you," she whispered. "Mother and Father would be too. Learning new skills, working so hard, creating such beautiful things..." She pulled back enough to look at his face. "You're going to be someone amazing, Arlo-kun. I just know it."
If only you knew.
But he couldn't tell her. Not now, he would tell her with time that he has powers that make miracles come to life.
So instead, he just let her hold him. Let himself relax into the embrace despite the embarrassment, despite everything.
Because this was real. This moment. This affection.
"Thank you, Sachiko-nee," he said quietly.
She squeezed him once more before releasing him, though her hands lingered on his shoulders. "Now, I want you to be careful with that sword. Promise me? No practicing inside the house, and always be aware of where the edge is pointing."
"I promise."
"Good." She stood, smoothing her kimono. "And you'll have to tell me more about this blacksmithing. When did you start? Where did you learn? Do we need to get you proper tools and a workspace?"
Arlo sheathed Ame no Ohabari carefully. "I've been reading a lot. And practicing in secret. I didn't want to say anything until I had something to show."
"Well, you certainly have something to show now." She smiled that radiant smile. "My talented little blacksmith. Come on, let's get breakfast. You can tell me all about it over tea."
She took his hand—the one not resting on the katana's hilt—and led him toward the dining room.
Arlo followed, the weight of Ame no Ohabari comfortable at his waist. A reminder of power. Of capability. Of the path he was walking.
But just for now, in this moment, he was just a five-year-old boy having breakfast with his sister.
The legendary swords could wait.
The training could wait.
The future could wait.
Right now, he had family.
End of Chapter 8
Next: Inauguration of the first Hospital, Sachiko is injured ........... The Sky split.