The quiet lapping of waves was the only sound in the storage room as Vihaan sat cross-legged before the chest.
"From Captain."
Those words echoed through his mind like whispers in a dream. He traced the engraving with two fingers, feeling the burn marks beneath his skin.
Behind him, the floor creaked.
"You've been staring at that for twenty minutes," came Nami's voice, crisp and curious.
Vihaan didn't look back. "Where did this chest come from?"
She shrugged, arms folded. "I grabbed it when I was looting Buggy's ship. Thought it looked expensive."
His gaze sharpened. "You picked it for that reason?"
"Well… that and it was in a room Buggy had locked up separately. I figured it was valuable. Turns out it was just this weird, sealed box."
Vihaan's fingers tightened around the edges. The lock wasn't elaborate, just well-made. He exhaled through his nose and clicked it open.
The lid creaked.
Inside… was a sword.
But not just any sword.
It was elegant yet brutal in design. The hilt was wrapped in faded black leather, golden linings running across the handguard in a winding swirl like sea currents. Etched along the sheath in aged calligraphy were three words:
"Will of Ace."
Vihaan's breath caught in his throat.
Nami leaned over, eyes widening. "A sword?"
"No," Vihaan murmured. "Not just a sword."
He reached inside and lifted it gently, fingers trembling as he unsheathed a few inches.
The blade shimmered with a deep silvery hue, strangely light yet somehow weighty with history. Something about it throbbed — not physically, but emotionally, spiritually. It radiated presence.
And then… the strain hit.
Vihaan's grip faltered. His arm trembled violently as if a storm weighed down his muscles. A sudden heat surged through his palm and into his forearm, like invisible resistance crawling along his veins.
He quickly sheathed the sword and set it back in the chest, panting.
Nami blinked. "What happened?"
Vihaan leaned back against a barrel, sweat running down his cheek. "It… rejected me. Or maybe it judged me."
"You're being dramatic."
"No," he said, voice unusually grave. "This sword belonged to someone important. Someone powerful. I could feel it."
He opened the sheath slightly again. The name "Ace" shimmered faintly in the blade's reflection.
"Could this have belonged to... Gol D. Roger?"
Nami stiffened. "The Pirate King?"
Vihaan nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think this is his sword. Not the fire fruit 'Ace'—but the original… Gol D. Roger's weapon."
Nami looked pale. "You're saying Buggy had this on his ship?"
"Buggy used to sail with Roger, didn't he? He must've kept it all these years, hidden even from his crew."
Vihaan stared at the blade again, a quiet reverence in his eyes. Then, reluctantly, he closed the chest and locked it again.
"I'm not ready to wield this," he admitted. "Not yet."
Later that night, Vihaan sat on the deck under the stars, flipping through the aged book he had recovered earlier — the one he found during the filler moment when they renamed the crew.
The title was plain: The Senses Beyond Sight: An Initiate's Guide to Haki.
He'd skimmed some of it before, but now, after holding that sword, something had changed. He needed power—not the brash, loud kind like Luffy's punches—but something deeper. Something focused.
The book spoke of three colors—Observation, Armament, and Conqueror's—but for now, Vihaan narrowed in on Observation Haki. The ability to feel the presence of others. To anticipate. To predict.
He closed his eyes.
He let the rhythm of the sea guide his breath.
And for a moment… he felt it. A flicker. Like the faint outline of Luffy's energy near the mast. The dozing hum of Zoro's guard still half-up in sleep. Nami's heartbeat as she counted coins under the moonlight.
He opened his eyes.
Gone.
But it had been real.
And then… he turned to the final page.
There was a handwritten note, barely legible, likely scrawled in haste by someone long ago:
"A fruit's curse can be softened. Resistance to seawater is not impossible — train, immerse, endure. A strong will can numb the drain."
Vihaan reread it five times.
"Train to resist seawater?"
All his life since eating the Mirror Mirror Fruit, he'd known the sea would drain him. Touching seawater made his limbs heavy, his powers fizzle. The curse of every Devil Fruit user.
But… this?
This implied a secret path. That through sheer will — and training — one could dull that vulnerability.
It wasn't full immunity.
But resistance?
His mind surged with possibilities: What if he could learn to stand in water for a few moments longer than his enemies expected? What if he could fight while half-submerged?
He grinned to himself.
Suddenly, the impossible seemed just a little less out of reach.
By morning, the sun rose on a determined Vihaan.
He stood barefoot on the deck's edge, a bucket of seawater beside him. Zoro raised an eyebrow from where he leaned against the rail.
"Planning to mop the deck?"
"Training," Vihaan replied.
He dipped his hand into the water.
The familiar sapping sensation crept along his skin. His Devil Fruit abilities recoiled. But this time… he didn't pull away.
He held it.
Ten seconds… fifteen…
Then twenty.
His knuckles shook. But he didn't let go.
Zoro watched silently, then gave a small nod of approval.
Below deck, Nami glanced out from her nap, saw him with the bucket, and smiled faintly.
Luffy, meanwhile, had already started pestering a seagull with his slingshot.