In the afternoon, everyone had a half-day of free time.
Rain didn't waste a second. He walked straight out of the Elite Training Camp area and headed toward Marineford's residential district. The "luggage" he'd brought from Loguetown was just a ragged bundle he'd thrown together to fool Garp—aside from a few old clothes, it was empty.
If he was going to live here for a year, he'd need to buy a few essentials to make life bearable.
Marineford's living district was even more prosperous than he'd imagined. The streets were clean and tidy, lined with shops on both sides, the whole place radiating security and peace. He went into a general store and, like he'd done it a hundred times, bought a new towel, toiletries, soap, and a soft cotton pajama set.
After stocking up, he decided it was time to take care of his stomach.
Following the aroma of food drifting in the air, he found a clean, stylish Western-style restaurant on a busy commercial street.
"This is the place."
He pushed the door open and, under the waiter's guidance, sat down by the window.
"Sir, what would you like to order?"
Rain didn't even look at the menu. "What's your most popular signature dish?"
"That would definitely be our 'Pan-seared Sea King Tenderloin with Black Pepper Sauce,' made from the freshest cuts of a small Sea King caught in the Calm Belt this morning."
"I'll take that," Rain said without hesitation. "And a cream mushroom soup and a rum ice cream."
"Time to splurge a little. Consider it a celebration… for making Elite Class," he thought.
Soon, with a lively sizzle, a steaming hot steak on an iron plate was set in front of him.
It was a palm-sized slab of meat seared to a perfect golden brown, drizzled in a rich black-pepper sauce. Butter and garlic blended with the meat's aroma, drilling aggressively into Rain's nose.
He cut a small piece and popped it into his mouth.
The meat was so tender it practically melted without chewing. The rich juices mixed with the spicy black pepper sauce and exploded across his taste buds.
"Ah…"
Rain let out a deeply satisfied sigh.
"Now this is food fit for humans," he thought, moved to the verge of tears. "Compared to this, that stuff at lunch was literally sewer sludge."
After he'd practically licked the plate clean, Rain leaned back in his chair, basking in the long-lost feeling of happiness.
"Sir, your total is 52,000 Berries," the waiter said with a smile, holding out the bill.
Rain's smile froze.
"Fifty… fifty-two thousand?" He stared at the number on the bill, feeling his heart bleed. "One meal costs almost as much as a month's expenses for an ordinary family in Loguetown?!"
Keeping his face neutral, he slipped a hand into his coat—actually reaching into his storage ring—and pulled out a stack of bills to pay. Inside, he was doing frantic math.
The money I've looted off pirates I killed outside the scaffold runs in the low millions of Berries. In the East Blue, that makes me basically rich. But with prices like fifty thousand a meal here… I can't afford to eat like this often at all.
Carrying his new purchases and dreams of future "financial freedom" and "culinary freedom," Rain headed back toward the dorm.
When he opened the door, the suffocating smoke stench from yesterday was gone. The room was still a mess, but at least the air was breathable.
Smoker was working out inside, shirtless, drenched in sweat, doing one-finger push-ups—pressing down hard enough that the wooden floor beneath him creaked in protest.
Every time he pushed up, he let out a low, forced growl between his teeth, like he was trying to vent all his humiliation and frustration into the training.
Rain completely ignored the over-the-top display.
He pulled a clean towel and toiletries from his bag and started neatly making his bed and organizing his locker, putting his tiny personal area in stark, spotless contrast to Smoker's side, which still looked like a trash heap.
That silent disregard was the biggest provocation Smoker could imagine.
He suddenly sprang to his feet, folded his arms, leaned against his wrecked bunk frame, and glared at Rain.
After a long silence, he finally couldn't hold it in:
"101 Doriki. You think I'm an idiot?"
Without turning around, Rain kept smoothing the sheet. "The test's hard. I just got lucky and barely passed."
The corner of Smoker's eye twitched violently at that.
He swallowed back his rising anger and tried another angle. "Lucky, huh? Then tell me this—someone who can land a hit on a Logia user shows up at a recruit camp, and you don't think that's a waste of talent?"
Rain quickly scanned Smoker's expression. All he saw was confusion and frustration about his strength—no hint of recognition.
So, he hasn't realized I was the executioner who shot Roger… The thought made Rain relax completely. Good. If he's only curious about my strength, he'll be much easier to bluff.
He turned around slowly, wearing an age-appropriate look of troubled helplessness. Sitting down on the bed, he let out a sigh.
"You noticed too, huh?" Rain's voice carried just the right amount of confusion. "I don't know why, but my strength… is sometimes really unstable. Most of the time, I'm just an ordinary person. But every now and then… it suddenly spikes to a level I can't control."
Seeing the "are you kidding me" look on Smoker's face, Rain kept bullshitting with full sincerity:
"Vice Admiral Tsuru probably sent me here because she hopes Instructor Zephyr can help me fix that instability."
"As for that punch last night…" Rain gave a deeply "sincere" apologetic smile. "Guess that was another one of those unstable episodes. Sorry—went a bit too hard."