East Blue. Shimotsuki Village's harbor.
I traded the usual battle-worn vest for a crisp white shirt, black trousers, and for once left the blade at home. Just a kid, out for a walk — at least on the surface.
Dockworkers bustled past, hauling crates and shouting about delayed shipments. Nothing that caught my eye. I turned away and slipped into the nearby village guard post.
"Hey, Uncle Barry. You still alive?" I called, grinning as I stepped in.
Behind the desk, Barry — village watchman, forty-something with a face like sunbaked leather — looked up from his paperwork and gave a gap-toothed grin.
"Oh, it's you, Jin! Haven't seen you around. Where've you been hiding?"
When I'd first come to this place, covered in blood and dragging corpses, Barry had to question me — routine, he'd said. Since then, we'd gotten used to each other. A failed Navy recruit, now keeping drunks in line. Nothing special, but solid enough.
I flopped into the rickety guest chair, gave him my best mock-serious look.
"Uncle Barry, you really should take better care of your face. Otherwise, Auntie Mako won't give you the time of day."
He barked a laugh, tugging his cap lower to hide the worst of the wrinkles.
"You little shit, this isn't old — it's character! Women love a man with history. Mako'll come around, just wait."
"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes. "You keep telling yourself that, old man."
We traded a few more jabs before I got to the point.
"Anything interesting happening? New rumors?"
Almost a week had passed since I last came to town. Needed to know if the sea had spit out anything worth noticing.
Barry rubbed his chin. "Well… Marines keep stepping up recruitment. Even here in sleepy East Blue, they're getting nervous. Seems the number of pirates keeps climbing since that Gold Roger bastard kicked the hornet's nest."
The so-called Great Pirate Era… part curse, part invitation.
"Sounds like the sea's finally waking up," I murmured, more to myself than to Barry.
Since reincarnation, I'd driven my body past its limits, day after day. Mixing old mercenary habits with the strange internal force of this world. Never wasting a breath. But a man's mind needs to look beyond the next punch, too.
Later, after leaving Barry's place, I let my steps carry me to the shoreline.
The wind smelled of salt and freedom. I dropped onto a sun-warmed boulder, drawing slow, steady breaths.
Now I've stepped into the dark realm: the stage beyond normal muscle and bone. Internal force can finally run deeper, coil through tendons, strengthen strikes from inside out.
"Next comes technique," I thought, fingers drumming on my knee. "Navy's Six Styles — the 'Rokushiki.' Shave, Moonwalk, Tempest Kick… those three fit me best. Speed, air-step mobility, mid-range slashes. Once mastered, I might finally reach for Haki — that 'Color of Armament' and 'Color of Observation' they whisper about."
As for Devil Fruits… even now, part of me itched to taste power that twisted the world's laws. But the mercenary in me remembered the price: weakness in water, strange side effects. Fuck it. Maybe later.
"Enough daydreaming," I told myself. "Step by step, Jin. Build what's real first."
A long exhale. I stood, stretched, and shouted across the sea:
"Bring it the fuck on!"
"Eek!"
The startled yelp came from behind the boulder.
I blinked, then stepped around. And there she was.
A kid — but what a kid: small, maybe six or seven, round cheeks flushed with annoyance, dark eyes sparking, short blue hair brushing a white blouse. Grey shorts, small leather shoes, bamboo practice sword clutched in tiny fists.
My brain flatlined for a second.
God damn. A real-life tsundere loli. Even the old mercenary heart isn't made of stone.
Slapping my own cheek — get it together, Jin, you ancient pervert — I forced a polite smile.
She stomped a foot. "Y-you scared me! And don't stand around staring! This is where I practice swordsmanship!"
"Ah — sorry! I was just wandering, sat down to rest. Didn't mean to trespass, little miss," I explained, scratching my cheek.
"Wh-who's little?!" she fired back instantly, cheeks even redder. "Don't talk down to me! I'll be a great swordswoman — a master! Remember that!"
That serious glare, that childish pout… even a dead man would want to tease.
"Well, aren't you cute. But I'm older, so isn't 'little miss' fair?" I teased, smirking.
Her bamboo sword quivered. "I am not cute!" she shouted. "And don't call me that! I'm gonna be a swordmaster, idiot!"
God damn… this world just keeps giving, I thought, heart light for the first time in months.
For a brief moment, the mercenary vanished. In his place: a boy watching the sea, bantering with a stubborn little girl who dreamed of blades and glory.
This story is inspired from various fanfics i have read from around the world so if you find any similarities please dont mind . Thank you
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T/N :
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