Chapter 4: Shadows over Foosha
The days in Foosha drifted by like gentle tides. Boris had grown comfortable with the rhythm of life here—training under Daigo's watchful eye, helping villagers with their chores, and being dragged on endless mischief by Luffy.
It was almost easy to forget why he was here. Easy to pretend the power inside him—the impossible ability to wish things into reality—was nothing more than a fading dream from another world.
But peace never lasted long, not in a world like this.
It began on a humid afternoon. Boris was hauling a net of fish onto the pier, sweat dripping down his back, when the calm air shattered under the harsh sound of voices.
A group of strangers had walked into the village square. Rough men with scarred faces and weapons strapped to their belts. They laughed too loudly, their boots clattering against the wooden planks as if they owned the place.
Bandits.
Boris didn't need anyone to tell him who they were. Even before whispers reached his ears—"That's Higuma's lot…"—he recognized the type. He'd seen men like them in his old world too, the kind who preyed on fear.
Higuma himself led the group, his thick frame swaggering with arrogance. His eyes scanned the square like a wolf sizing up prey. When he stepped into Makino's tavern, the villagers froze.
Boris felt his stomach tighten.
He followed quietly, keeping to the edge of the tavern doorway.
Inside, Higuma slammed a pouch of coins onto the counter. "Sake. And keep it coming."
Makino, polite but tense, poured drinks without a word.
The bandits sprawled across tables, knocking over chairs, laughing crudely. One of them spotted Luffy sitting on a stool, munching happily on bread.
"Oi, brat. What're you staring at?" the bandit sneered.
Luffy, true to form, puffed his cheeks and shouted, "I'm not scared of you!"
The tavern went still.
Boris's hands curled into fists. His instincts screamed at him to step forward, to shield the boy, but Daigo's lessons echoed in his head: Pick your battles. Strength isn't just swinging your fists—it's knowing when to strike.
But then one of the bandits shoved Luffy, hard enough to send the boy tumbling off his stool.
That was it.
Before Boris even realized it, he was moving. He caught Luffy by the shoulder, steadying him, then turned to face the room.
"Enough." His voice was calm, but the weight behind it silenced the laughter.
Higuma squinted at him. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Boris didn't answer. He didn't need to. His stance, the way his muscles coiled, the quiet fire in his eyes—it was enough.
One of the bandits lunged first, a sloppy swing of a dagger meant more to intimidate than kill. Boris sidestepped smoothly, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted. The dagger clattered to the floor. With a quick shove, he sent the bandit crashing into a table.
The tavern erupted.
Chairs scraped, villagers screamed, and three more bandits rushed him at once.
Boris's body moved with the speed Daigo's training had unlocked and his unnatural gift of learning had sharpened. He ducked under a punch, slammed his elbow into another man's ribs, and swept the legs of a third. Each movement was precise, efficient—not flashy, but effective.
But there were too many. For every one he put down, two more circled. A fist caught him across the jaw. Pain exploded in his skull, and for a moment, the world spun.
Damn… I can't keep this up forever.
Higuma laughed from the counter, sipping his drink as if this were nothing more than entertainment. "You've got guts, kid. Shame they won't save you."
Another bandit lunged, blade flashing. This time, Boris didn't dodge. His instincts reached deeper, tapping into the power he had tried to bury.
I wish… I had the strength to stand.
It wasn't a scream. It wasn't even shouted. The wish was silent, buried inside his heart. But reality bent to it all the same.
His body surged with sudden clarity. The pain dulled, his stance steadied, and his fists flew faster than before. The next bandit fell with a single strike to the gut, crumpling like a sack of grain.
The others hesitated. For the first time, their laughter cracked, fear bleeding through.
Boris's chest heaved, his knuckles raw, but he didn't stop. He stood in front of Luffy, shielding the boy with his body.
"Anyone else?" His voice rang cold through the tavern.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Higuma slammed his cup down, shattering it against the counter.
"You've made a mistake, brat," he growled, rising to his full height. His presence filled the room like a storm cloud. "Crossing me… means you won't live to regret it."
The bandits regrouped behind him, emboldened by their leader. The tension coiled like a drawn bowstring, ready to snap.
Boris felt sweat drip down his temple. His fists clenched tighter. For all his training, for all his strength, he knew this fight wasn't over.
But as he glanced at Luffy—grinning despite the danger, eyes burning with reckless fire—Boris felt something else stir inside him.
Resolve.
No matter what came next, he wouldn't run. Not this time.