Add this to your library!!!!!
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A year has passed since the day Xebex left. The island, locked in the timeless, waveless silence of the Calm Belt, was the perfect crucible.
Aster was two and a half years old. The clumsy, delightful roundness of infancy was gone, burned away by a year of relentless, repetitive training. He was still small, but his body was lean. His skin was a deep, sun-kissed tan. His black-and-white hair was longer, tied back from his face with a piece of string.
He stood on the white sand, his bare feet braced. He was in the middle of a swing.
The ironwood training axe, once an impossible burden, was now an extension of his body. He twisted, his form a perfect, miniature echo of what his mother had taught him. The heavy, weighted axe head arced through the still air, not with the clumsy thud of a child, but with a sharp, controlled hiss. It was a motion of precision, not just strength.
TIGHTEN YOUR CORE!
The voice, a high-pitched, fiery shriek, echoed only inside Aster's head.
YOU'RE OVER-ROTATING YOUR LEFT HIP! IT'S INEFFICIENT! DO YOU WANT TO BE EFFICIENT OR DO YOU WANT TO BE A SLOPPY, FLOPPY... HEY! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, BRAT?!
Aster's golden eyes narrowed. He ignored the insult, processed the core command, and on the next swing, his pivot was flawless. The axe cut a clean, perfect arc, stopping instantly, its momentum completely controlled.
...Hmph. Better. Flamey, the spirit of the Inferno fruit, grumbled in his mind. But your follow-through is still weak. Again! From the top! And this time, try to look like you want to be strong! Your face has all the murderous intent of a sleepy crab!
Aster let out a small, quiet sigh. His version of an eye-roll. He raised the axe again to continue. This had been his life for a year. His morning was dedicated to the Haki principles his father had taught him, his afternoon to his mother's precise Observation training, and in between, a thousand, thousand swings of the axe, all of it narrated by the world's angriest, fluffiest, and most demanding coach. FLAMEY....
"Aster! Lunch!"
His mother's call, clear and calm, cut through the air.
LUNCH?! Flamey shrieked. WE ARE NOT DONE! WE HAVE FOUR HUNDRED MORE SWINGS IN THIS SET! TELL HER--
Aster immediately lowered the axe and, with a single pat to the handle, turned and began walking toward the cottage.
HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! I'M TALKING TO YOU! AXE-CHILD! VESSEL! DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!
Mom's rule is iron, Aster thought, his steps not faltering. No strength is built without food. Lunch always wins.
I HATE THAT WOMAN'S LOGIC! Flamey raged, his mental voice fading into a frustrated, fiery hiss.
Aster sat in his high chair, which was getting to be a bit small for him, as Eris placed a plate of grilled fish and steamed vegetables in front of him. The cottage was quiet, a stark contrast to the constant, high-strung yelling that now lived in his head.
Eris sat opposite him, her hands cupped around a mug of tea. Her face was calm, but her eyes were, as always, sharp and perceptive. This was their daily debrief.
"How is the Haki progressing?" she asked.
Aster chewed, swallowed, and then gave his report. "Armament is... slow."
This was the truth. His father's brutal, pain-based training had unlocked the potential for Armament Haki, but it remained a purely reactive, instinctive defense. It was a shield, not a weapon. It only flared to life when he was in pain, or in a rare flash of his own deep-seated frustration. It was a dark, invisible armor he could not yet summon at will.
Eris nodded, her expression accepting. "It will come. Your father's Haki is like a torrent. Yours will be too. It just needs a deeper well to draw from. Your body is still learning. Plus, you are just 2 years old; there is a limit to how much your body can take."
"Observation... is loud," Aster said.
Eris's calm expression flickered. A small, awed smile touched her lips. She knew exactly what he meant. He had told her months ago.
The memory was sharp. He had been sitting in this same chair. "Mom," he had asked, his voice small. "Why does the sand 'sing' when the sun is high? And the water... the water's always... sad."
Eris had been washing a dish. The plate slipped from her hand and shattered on the wooden floor. She hadn't flinched. She hadn't moved. She just... stared at him, her face completely pale, her aura, the one Aster could always feel, flaring with a sudden, violent spike of pure shock.
"What," she had whispered, her voice tight, "did you just say?"
"The rocks," Aster had explained, confused by her reaction. "They don't talk, but they... feel. The big rock on the beach is... old. And tired. And my axe... my axe likes me. It likes the training."
Eris had slowly, very slowly, knelt in front of him. Her eyes, wide with a terrifying, profound awe, scanned his face as if seeing him for the first time. "Aster... can you... can you hear me, too? My voice?"
"Yeah," he'd said. "You're... scared. But also... happy? You're... loud. Inside."
"The Voice of All Things," she had breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. It was not a question. It was a diagnosis.
She, a scholar from a bloodline that had protected one of the world's great secrets, knew exactly what that power was. It was not just 'advanced Observation Haki.' It was a miracle. It was the power the legends spoke of. A power that Joyboy, along with only a handful of people, had. It was the mythical ability to hear the true, silent voice of the world.
And her son, her tiny, two-year-old child, was using it to listen to rocks.
That day, her entire perception of his future shifted. It was no longer a fear of what his father's blood might bring. It was an awe of what his own spirit was destined for. She had made him promise, a deep, ironclad vow, to never speak of this to any other living soul outside of their family. Flamey, bound to him, was already a witness. But no one else. The world, she had impressed upon him with a chilling seriousness, must never know. It was a power too important, too dangerous. A secret that, if revealed, would bring all their enemies down upon them, and the World Government most of all.
Now, at the table, that awe was still in her eyes. "Flamey and I think it's part of Observation Haki," Aster continued, pulling her from the memory. "When I listen... really listen... it's the same feeling. Just... more. Deeper."
"It is," Eris confirmed, her voice soft. "It is the deepest, truest form of it. The fact you can hear it at all... it means your potential is... limitless, Aster."
Aster just nodded, accepting this as fact. He was more concerned with his other new power. "The fire is... bad. It never listens."
He held up his small, calloused hand and concentrated. Flamey, in his mind, let out a long-suffering sigh.
Ugh. Fine. You got this, vessel. But just a little. We are not wasting energy before your afternoon session.
A tiny, black-red ember, no bigger than Aster's thumb, ignited on his fingertip. It didn't flame. It throbbed. It was a dark, sickly-looking pulse of cold fire that seemed to drink the light in the cottage, casting a small, smoky shadow.
"It's not... big," Aster complained. This was his greatest frustration. His father had split the sky. His fruit... made a weird, cold, smoky ember.
"That is a good thing," Eris said, her voice firm. She leaned in, her eyes studying the dark flame. "It doesn't glow. It barely makes smoke. No one will ever see it as a threat, Aster. They will think it's a parlor trick. A weak, failed Fruit. It will keep you hidden. It will keep you under the radar."
"But it's slow," Aster pressed, his frustration clear. "Flamey calls it 'Inferno,' but it has... 'mass.' It's heavy. I can't throw it. I can't make it explode. I have to... put it on things."
He demonstrated, moving the black-red ember to his wooden spoon. The flame clung to it, spreading not like fire, but like a thick, dark oil. It began to burn, but with a slow, cold, sizzling sound.
"And it makes me tired," Aster said, his point made. He let the flame die, and the effort, small as it was, made him let out a small, tired breath. "I can only hold it for a minute before I'm... sleepy."
Flamey's voice was a weary grumble in his head. Our power is the fire of consumption, brat. It consumes everything. Including the stamina of its tiny, underdeveloped, two-year-old wielder. What did you expect?
"Your body is too small, Aster," Eris said, echoing the spirit's thoughts. "The power is clearly there. It's... vast. I can feel its darkness. But your body is too young. You do not have the stamina to feed it. You must wait. For now, your father was right. You should focus on your Haki development."
A few days later, Eris's training began.
If Rocks's method was a hurricane of brute force, pain, and yelling, Eris's was the opposite. It was a lesson in pure, terrifying silence.
They stood on the far side of the island, in a small, shady grove where the air was always still.
"Close your eyes, Aster," Eris said, her voice calm.
Aster obeyed. He stood in the center of the grove, his senses outstretched. He could feel his mother's aura, a warm, kind, powerful presence, standing fifty yards away.
And then, she was gone.
It was not a "blink and you'll miss it" disappearance. It was as if she had been surgically removed from the world. Her sound, her scent, her Haki, her very presence. It all vanished, enclosed in a perfect, small bubble of her Shizu Shizu no Mi power.
Aster's Observation Haki strained, searching for the familiar warmth. There was nothing. It was like feeling for a mountain and finding only empty air.
"I am still here, Aster," her voice called out, clear and calm. The sound originated from her, but because of her power, it seemed to come from everywhere at once, disembodied and directionless.
"Stop feeling for me," she instructed. "You are searching for a thing, and I have made myself no-thing. This is how you will be hunted, Aster. Not by a charging beast, but by a silent blade. You must learn to find what is not there."
Aster strained, his small face beaded with sweat. "I... I can't. You're... gone."
"I am not," her voice replied. "The world is still here. Listen to that. Use the Voice you have. I am a hole in the world. A place where the birds are suddenly quiet. A spot where the wind does not sound. A patch of silence where the 'song' of the rocks has a dent in it. Stop searching for the note. Find the pause. Find the absence."
This was her training. It was subtle, precise, and lethally effective. It was the training of an assassin, not a brawler.
Aster stood, his body trembling with effort. He pushed past his normal Haki. He listened. He listened to the song of the sand, the whisper of the leaves, the deep, slow hum of the island's bedrock. And then... he felt it.
It was not a sound. It was a... a dent. A small, perfect circle, fifty yards to his left, where the world's natural chorus just... stopped.
He pointed. "There."
The world snapped back into place. His mother's aura, warm and proud, flared back into existence. She was standing exactly where he had pointed, a small, proud smile on her face.
"Good, little warrior," she said. "Again."
Days passed. The training was a grind. The 'absence' drill was the hardest thing he had ever done. His Haki was growing, but his progress felt slow, agonizingly small.
He was in the cove, alone, practicing his axe swings. He was frustrated.
He thought of his father's Haki, a power that could break the sky. He thought of his "homework" to replicate that. He was two and a half. He could barely find his mother in the woods. His Armament was a flickering ember. His Devil Fruit made him sleepy.
It's too slow!
Calm, vessel, Flamey's voice advised, sensing his frustration. Progress is not a straight line. You are just 2 years old...
"It's not enough!" Aster suddenly shouted, his voice raw. It was a rare flash of anger, a mirror of his father's own impatience. It was not anger at Flamey or his mother. It was anger at himself. At his own weakness. "I'm... I'm slow! I need to be stronger! NOW!"
In his rage, he threw a punch at a large piece of driftwood, pouring all his frustration and impatience into the blow. He didn't try to use Haki. He just... willed it.
But it wasn't the invisible crack of Armament. It was something new.
A sudden, violent heat flashed inside his arm.
It was not the dark, cold, clinging flame of Inferno. It was a sharp, internal, searing heat. He felt the muscles in his small arm ignite, tensing like a hot, coiled spring. For a fraction of a second, the entire world seemed to slow down.
He felt... fast. He felt... strong.
He stared at his arm, panting. It was glowing. A faint, reddish-orange light was pulsing under his skin, like lava. His skin itself was bright red, as if badly sunburned, and a wisp of steam was rising from his knuckles. His arm burned.
Oh...
A long, slow, delighted sound echoed in his mind.
OOOOOOH! ZEH... ahem(Fuck you Xebec). I mean... YES! OF COURSE! I KNEW IT!
Flamey's voice was no longer a coach's. It was the ecstatic cry of a discoverer.
"What... what was that?" Aster panted. His arm hurt.
YOU ARE AN IDIOT, VESSEL! BUT YOU ARE A BRILLIANT IDIOT!
Flamey roared, his joy unmistakable.
You've been trying to push the Inferno out! You just pushed it in! You didn't just summon the flame, you used the heat! You've used the soul-fire to supercharge your own body!
"It... burns," Aster said, wincing.
OF COURSE IT BURNS! YOU'RE COOKING YOURSELF, YOU MORON! Flamey shouted, though he sounded delighted.
But... this is it! This is the first step! You've found the true path! Don't just dump the heat. Channel it. Let it flow. Not a bonfire, a... an engine! YES! Feel it? Pull the heat back from the skin, circulate it in the muscle! Yes! Like that!
Aster concentrated. The painful, skin-searing burn lessened, receding, becoming a thrumming, powerful warmth that settled deep in his bicep. He felt... powerful.
This is your first true technique. AND YOU ARE JUST TWO? Flamey said, his voice smug and impossibly proud.
A way to use our power without making you a target. A way to bypass the 'slow' part. You'll be a demon of pure speed and strength! Let's call it... 'Soul Heat.'
Aster looked at his arm, the red glow fading, the feeling of power lingering. A huge, proud, and incredibly rare smile broke across his ever-serious face. He had done it. A new power.
He heard the sound of footsteps on the sand. His mother was approaching, her expression calm, ready for their afternoon Observation Haki lesson.
"Mom!"
Eris stopped dead. Her "teacher" expression didn't just falter; it shattered.
Aster never yelled. He never ran, unless it was a training drill. And he never smiled like that.
She was looking at a different child. Her son, usually so profoundly reserved, was vibrating with excitement, his golden eyes blazing with a bright, unguarded joy she hadn't seen since the day his father had been on this very beach. He was running toward her, his small, steaming arm held high like a trophy.
"Mom!" Aster yelled again, skidding to a halt in front of her. "Mom, look! Look what I did!"
Her shock at his pure, unfiltered emotion was so great that it took her a long second to even process what he was showing her. Her gaze dropped to his arm.
She knelt instantly, her own Haki flaring as she gently took his small, red, steaming hand. Her eyes went wide. She could feel it. It was not the external, consuming void-flame she had dreaded. It was an internal power, a thrumming, volatile heat coiled deep within his muscles.
"Aster... what is this?" she breathed, her voice tight with awe.
"It's 'Soul Heat'!" he explained, the words tumbling out of him in a way she'd never heard. "I was mad. I was mad 'cause I'm slow, and I punched the wood. But I didn't use Haki. I used... heat. Flamey said I'm a 'brilliant idiot' and I 'cooked myself'."
He beamed, as if "cooking himself" was the greatest achievement in the world.
"I made my arm fast, Mom," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Like... like fire inside. Not outside. And it's strong."
Eris stared at his arm, her mind racing. The texts. The legends. All her family's history spoke of the fruit's power as an external force. A 'Consuming End' that was to be released and fought. Not... contained. Not internalized. As everyone feared this ability, but not her son. Such a simple thing, overlooked due to fear.
Her son, in a fit of childish frustration, had done something none of her ancestors had ever even considered. He hadn't just used the power; he had changed its application. He had blended his father's instinct for overwhelming power with her doctrine of absolute control.
She looked up, her own eyes shining. The shock on her face melted into a smile that mirrored his own, one of pure, unrestrained pride.
"Oh, Aster," she said, her voice thick. She pulled him into a sudden, fierce hug. "You... you are a brilliant idiot."
She pulled back, her hands on his shoulders, her expression becoming serious, but the pride remained. "It was the anger? Your frustration?"
Aster nodded, his smile fading slightly as he remembered.
Eris let out a soft laugh. "Just like your father. Your greatest breakthroughs come when you're frustrated." She gently touched his red skin, which was still hot. "But it hurt you. It 'cooked' you, as Flamey said. Power that damages the wielder is a wild, untamed thing. It's a good discovery, Aster. A brilliant one."
She stood, pulling him to his feet. The Observation Haki lesson was forgotten. This was more important.
"But now," she said, her teacher's voice returning, but laced with a new excitement, "we must learn to control it. To refine it. To use it without burning you to cinders from the inside out."
She stepped back, her stance shifting. "Show me again. From the beginning. And this time... slowly."
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That's the first devil fruit move. What are your thoughts on that? Let me know.
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