Morning sunlight bathed the deck in a golden glow as the cries of seagulls mingled with the rhythmic crash of the waves. Ritter lay sprawled across the deck like a salted fish, lazily flipping onto his side and mumbling, "Five more minutes…"
A foot landed squarely on his stomach without an ounce of mercy.
"Up. Training time, brat," Rayleigh said as he adjusted his glasses.
Clutching his stomach, Ritter groaned in pain. "Rayleigh, old man! I wouldn't even be this tired if it weren't for you. I spent all of yesterday busting my butt to finish your training schedule. You trying to grind me into the dirt or what?"
"Oh?" Rayleigh raised an eyebrow. "Didn't realize your recovery rate was that good. Maybe you can save the world at four years old." He cracked his knuckles, joints popping ominously.
Ritter shot to his feet like a spring. "I'm up! You said it, not me. Let's go!"
Training left Ritter sprawled on the deck again, this time more sun-dried than salted. Roger strolled over and squatted beside him, grinning.
"How's it feel? Exhausted yet?"
Ritter rolled his eyes. "What do you think? The two of you take turns tormenting me. I swear you're just bored."
Roger burst into laughter. "No way! We're raising the next great pirate of the seas! You need strength to roam the Grand Line, kid."
"Raising?!" Ritter twitched. "You're literally playing a raising sim!"
"A what?" Roger tilted his head, confused.
"...Forget it. You wouldn't get it."
Sometimes Ritter felt like he was being overly dramatic, but how could he not? He was being personally trained by the top pirates in the world, which sounded cool until your body started collapsing under the pressure. He didn't feel emotionally exhausted, but the physical fatigue was bone-deep.
Still, he was young. He had time. This was a shonen manga, after all.
It wasn't like he had some tragic backstory with a clan wiped out, or a wife stabbed and stolen by his best friend in a reincarnation drama. No over-the-top revenge arcs here.
Shaking off the wild thoughts in his head, Ritter decided to stir up some trouble to keep things interesting.
"Hey, Jaba! Let's fight!" he shouted from the stern, hands in his pockets, his black hair tousled by the sea breeze and his crimson eyes glinting with anticipation.
In his heart, Ritter declared, Make way, Uncle Jaba. I'm taking your left-hand seat today. First your spot, next Pirate King! Wahahahaha!
Jaba was polishing his twin axes. He glanced up and grinned. "You sure, kid? Three million bounty at your age's impressive, but I don't pull punches just because you're small."
"Exactly what I want!" Ritter's smile widened. "Time to try out a new move!"
Roger was perched cross-legged on the mast, calling down with excitement. "Kuhahahaha! Wanna bet, Rayleigh? Who do you think wins?"
Rayleigh pushed up his glasses. "Thirty to seventy. Three minutes, Ritter goes flying seven times."
"Then I'm betting on Jaba!" Roger tossed a peanut into his mouth with a cheeky grin.
"Hey! Roger! Rayleigh! What the hell!" Ritter shouted, indignant. "I'm your trainee! If I lose, it makes you look bad!"
"Not really. If you suck, that's on you," Roger said, eyes twinkling mischievously.
Jaba stood and hoisted his axes. "Ready, kid?"
Ritter struck first. His hands swept forward. "Fog Realm: Silent Cage!"
A dense mist erupted, swallowing the ship in seconds. Visibility dropped to zero, and Jaba vanished into the white void. Even footsteps were muffled, the silence almost eerie.
"Obscuring sight and sound, huh?" Jaba remained still, narrowing his eyes. "Solid tactic. But not much use against a veteran."
He crouched low and swung his arms in a sharp X—
The clash of metal echoed as Ritter's Haki-coated wooden sword was caught mid-strike. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✶𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮✶𝓷𝓮𝓽
"What?!" Ritter's eyes widened. He leapt back, widening the distance. "How did you sense me?!"
Jaba grinned. "Instinct."
"Tch, Observation Haki?" Ritter muttered, then frowned. "No… you're not even using Haki seriously!"
Jaba chuckled. "Surviving at sea this long takes more than Haki, kid."
He lunged forward, twin axes slashing through the mist.
Ritter quickly shifted into his mist form, his body dissolving and reforming just in time to dodge.
"Stop running, kid!" Jaba didn't let up, his attacks like a hurricane of steel. Ritter could barely retreat fast enough.
"Fog Veil: Mirage Array!" Ritter shouted. The mist rippled and split into seven figures charging from all directions.
Jaba paused mid-swing, eyes scanning the clones. "Illusions, huh?"
"Guess which one's real!" all seven voices called in perfect unison, echoing through the fog.
Jaba huffed and suddenly closed his eyes, ears twitching ever so slightly.
The flat of his axe smacked into the real Ritter, sending him crashing backward. The illusions shattered.
"Seriously?! How?!" Ritter clutched his shoulder, getting to his feet. "You didn't even try to fake it!"
Jaba rolled his shoulder and smiled. "Mist messes with vision, sure. But your breathing rhythm gave you away. You were practically shouting with your lungs."
"If you could mask your breath and heartbeat, now that would be tricky."
Ritter gritted his teeth. "Then try this!"
"Fog Erosion: Acid Mist Field!"
Jaba's skin sizzled slightly where the fog touched him.
"Corrosive now?" Jaba frowned and quickly coated his arms in Armament Haki. "You're a sneaky one, huh?"
"In battle, no one cares about being sneaky!" Ritter snapped his hands together. "Mist Bomb: High-Pressure Cutter!"
The fog condensed into hair-thin blades, slicing toward Jaba from every direction.
Jaba's eyes sharpened. He grabbed his axes and roared, "Berserker Axes: Tempest Spiral!"
A violent vortex of axe strikes erupted from him, blowing apart the fog blades in a single explosive blast.
Sunlight broke through the mist, shining down on the deck once more.
Panting, Ritter dropped to one knee. "You've gotta be kidding me…"
Jaba slung his axe over his shoulder and walked over, ruffling Ritter's hair. "Not bad. You almost got me."
Ritter slumped onto the deck. "Still got thrashed… at least I lasted a few moves."
"Don't be so down!" Roger leapt down and threw an arm around both of them. "Jaba can trade blows with Rayleigh, you know. Making him draw his weapons is already impressive!"
Ritter wasn't discouraged. Losing was expected. What he wanted was insight into his own weaknesses.
And today's fight made one thing painfully clear he lacked serious firepower.
His "Fog Veil: Mirage Array" couldn't fully mask his presence yet, and its offensive potential wasn't enough to close the gap. Until he could develop a deadlier poison or more destructive corrosion…
Right now, Ritter was the type with great AOE but poor one-on-one capabilities. Against someone with much stronger Armament and Observation Haki, he was just a target.
At lunch, Jaba pulled a few fish from the sea and cleaned them with practiced ease, skewering them over a fire.
Ritter leaned over, staring at the fish. "Jaba, your cooking's not bad!"
None of the three adults on this ship were cooks. Being able to roast something without burning it was a luxury.
Jaba grinned. "Of course. Back when I was drifting solo, not knowing how to cook was a death sentence."
Roger sniffed the air and walked over, reaching for a fish. "Kuhahaha! Let me try!"
Whack! Jaba smacked his hand with a pair of chopsticks. "It's not done yet. Don't rush."
Roger recoiled, looking hurt. "Jaba… you've changed. You weren't before…"
Jaba rolled his eyes. "We've known each other for all of two days. Spare me the drama."
Ritter snickered nearby, only for Roger to grab him by the collar. "And what are you laughing at? Go grab the wine from the storage room!"
Ritter struggled. "I'm four! You're really sending a kid to get booze? Aren't you supposed to be setting a good example?!"
Rayleigh, ever calm, added, "Pirates aren't exactly known for their morals."
That night, the four of them sat on the deck beneath a blanket of stars.
Roger raised a bottle in one hand, already tipsy. "To freedom! To adventure! Cheers!"
"Cheers!" Jaba and Rayleigh clinked their bottles together.
Ritter held up his juice cup with a grumble. "Bunch of drunks…"
Roger wrapped an arm around him, eyes bleary. "Hey, kid. What's your dream?"
Ritter paused, then grinned. "I wanna be the kind of person who can go anywhere in the world, and wherever I go, people respect me."
Roger blinked, then let out a booming laugh. He gave Ritter's head a rough pat. "Good! That's the spirit!"