At dawn, when the sky was still gray, Kael was hauled out of his hammock by Rayleigh and tossed unceremoniously onto the deck. The cool sea breeze blasted away what little sleep he still clung to.
Roger and Rayleigh stood before him, one on each side, like two divine guardians.
Roger crossed his arms and smirked, as if settling in to watch a good show. Rayleigh, on the other hand, pushed up his glasses with a solemn expression.
"Before you learn to wield your Devil Fruit more effectively, you need to understand something first," Rayleigh said in a calm, uncompromising tone. "The Fruit grants you 'power,' but the vessel of that power is your own body. Your physique is the foundation of everything."
He pointed at Roger. "This man has no Devil Fruit ability. But if you fought him again, what would happen?"
Kael glanced at Roger, who was grinning so wide it showed his gums, and quickly shook his head. The memory of yesterday's punch still loomed like a shadow.
"Exactly. Which is why your first training is martial combat," Rayleigh continued. "That means strengthening your body and learning how to fight with weapons. What weapon will you use?"
Kael had thought long on this. His Wave-Wave Fruit, in some ways, resembled the Tremor-Tremor Fruit wielded by that "family man from across the sea who adopted sons" Whitebeard, the strongest man in the world.
In theory, the techniques of the Tremor-Tremor could all be replicated.
"I want to use a guandao," Kael answered firmly, then added quickly, remembering that this world had no such concept, "a long-bladed polearm."
"Oh?" Roger perked up. "Why that?"
"My ability lets me control waves vibrations," Kael explained. "If I channel vibrations down the weapon's shaft into the blade, I can release them at the moment of impact, creating shockwaves. It gives me reach, and multiplies the destructive force of my strikes."
In his mind he saw Whitebeard raising Murakumogiri, a single sweep shaking heaven and earth. Though still leagues away from that level, it was a goal worth chasing.
"I see. A naginata," Roger nodded as though enlightened. "Not bad at all, little Kael! Using a weapon to amplify your Devil Fruit power, kuahahaha!"
Behind his lenses, Rayleigh's eyes gleamed with approval. The boy had not just talent, but clarity of thought far rarer than brute strength.
"Then this will be your training regimen." Rayleigh produced a sheet of paper from who-knew-where and handed it to Kael.
Kael unfolded it. His face twitched.
Kael's Personal Strengthening Program
Morning: Weighted runs around the ship, 100 laps (speed depends on Captain's mood).
Late Morning: Resistance training in seawater waist tied to the ship, swim against the current until collapse (Captain may throw random fish and barrels for obstacles).
Afternoon: Weapon basics and sparring. Instructor: Rayleigh (fundamentals), Roger (combat).
Evening: Extreme evasion drills. Stand on deck center and dodge "loving throws" from Captain and first mate. Each hit halves dinner.
Night: Meditation and fine control of Devil Fruit power.
"Uh…" Kael stared at the lines about "speed depending on Captain's mood" and "loving throws," sweat breaking down his forehead.
Brothers, this wasn't training it was homicide. Is this really you, Master Rayleigh?
"What's wrong, scared already?" Roger leaned in and gave him a shoulder bump, laughter sharp as a knife.
"No!" Kael clenched his jaw, crushing the paper in his fist, eyes blazing. "I'll do it!"
Thus began the tragedy no, the fulfilling life of Kael Grylls.
The first day he barely managed thirty laps before Roger got bored, spun the rudder hard, and sent Kael flying face-first off the deck.
The second day? Blub blub blub. (What Devil Fruit user trains by swimming? Are you kidding me?)
On the third afternoon Rayleigh had only just finished teaching the basic grips, chops, sweeps, lifts, and thrusts of the naginata when Roger stormed over with a sword. "Kael! Time for your assessment!"
??? This was like, "You've learned 1 + 1 = 2, now prove Goldbach's conjecture."
Clang! Clang! Clang!
On deck Kael swung a makeshift naginata a long pole lashed to a crude blade blocking Roger's storm of attacks.
Roger used no swordsmanship, just plain slashes, yet the overwhelming power numbed Kael's grip and drove him back step by step.
"Too slow! Too soft! Your blade has no weight!" Every word from Roger landed like a hammer straight into Kael's chest.
The evening dodge drills were worse.
"Little Kael, take this flying fish whip!"
"Kael, watch your right, a barrel!"
Kael danced desperately around the deck, a mouse toyed between two cats. Roger's slimy fish, Rayleigh's whistling planks, both came at tricky angles, blazing fast.
Only his wilderness-honed senses kept him alive.
"Thud!" A fish slammed into his back.
"Kuahaha! Hit! Half dinner!" Roger's gleeful laughter echoed across the sea.
Kael clutched his sore backside, eyes misting with despair.
Why did the cries of a child echo across the ship at night? Why was a six-year-old covered in bruises? Is this the collapse of humanity, the decay of morality?
Stay tuned for the grand documentary Kael's Redemption.
Of course, that narration only played in Kael's head, scrambled by exhaustion.
Days passed under this merciless regime. Each night he collapsed like a dead dog, bones rattling, old wounds reopening under new ones.
He thought he might die more than once. Yet whenever he hit the wall, Rayleigh would appear with salve to heal him, and Roger with roasted sea beasts to restore his strength.
They drove him mercilessly but cared just as directly.
Gradually Kael shifted from helplessness to adaptation.
During weighted runs he unconsciously used tiny shockwaves to counter some of the recoil in his steps, making each stride lighter.
During sparring he no longer fought Roger head-on. He learned to coat his naginata blade with high-frequency vibrations, detonating them at the moment of clash to absorb part of the impact.
Sure, his handsome face was still swollen like a pig's head, but at least he could last a few exchanges.
Jealousy. That must be it. They're jealous of my beauty.
During the nightly "love throws," he pushed his Light Illusion Mirage to the limit, bending light at the instant objects closed in, creating fractions of a second of visual delay to buy time to dodge.
As for the seawater resistance training… best not to mention it.
What was he supposed to do, dunked helpless into water as a Devil Fruit user? Look into my eyes!
Roger and Rayleigh: Oh, right, we forgot you're a Devil Fruit user. (Completely unfazed.)
A month later.
At sunset Kael stood shirtless, bronze skin etched with countless scars, his once-soft frame honed into defined lines of muscle.
He gripped his patched-together naginata, breath steady, eyes locked on Roger.
"You ready, you bastard Captain?"
"Hahahaha. Let's go, little Kael!"
Kael moved first. His foot stomped down, not to charge, but to blast a shockwave into the deck.
"Sonic Step Blink!"
The deck trembled, recoil flinging his body forward, speed multiplied several times.
His blade carved a bright arc through the air, edges buzzing with visible white heat.
Surprise flickered in Roger's eyes, then his smile only widened.
He kept his casual stance, one hand on his sword, and swung down without dodging.
Clang!
The clash shrieked like tearing steel, a shockwave erupting from their collision.
Kael staggered back, leaving deep footprints gouged into the deck, blood seeping from his palms, chest heaving.
And Roger for the first time had taken half a step back.
Only half a step, but the joy on his face was brighter than if he had discovered a priceless treasure.
"Hahahahahahahaha! Well done, Kael!"
Leaning on his naginata, Kael gasped for breath, but a wild grin spread across his face the brightest he had worn in over a month.
Rayleigh, leaning on the mast, allowed himself a small, relieved smile.