**Marine Branch 153, Goa Kingdom – East Blue**
**10 years later**
The morning bell hit like a cannonball wrapped in bronze.
It didn't politely announce the start of the day — it attacked every sleeping recruit at once, rolling through the barracks in waves that seemed to echo inside skulls long after the actual clang had died.
Most of the thirty-something bodies in Barracks C responded the way exhausted teenagers usually do at oh-five-hundred: muffled curses, pillows pulled over heads, one creative attempt to murder an alarm with a thrown boot.
One body, however, reacted like someone had just yelled "FOOD" in the middle of a famine.
Monkey D. Luffy exploded upright so fast the entire row of metal bunks rattled like loose change. His straw hat — which he still refused to take off even for sleep — flopped forward over his eyes.
"MEAT!!!" he roared on pure reflex.
The barracks fell into a stunned hush for half a second.
Then someone in the back muttered, very tiredly, "There it is again."
Luffy blinked a few times, pushed the hat back, looked around at the gray walls, the identical rows of beds, the lingering smell of boot polish and last night's over-salted fish stew — and realized he was not, in fact, sitting in front of a roaring fire with a roasted boar the size of a small boat.
"…Oh." He cleared his throat with exaggerated seriousness and declared to the entire room: "Morning, guys!!!"
A symphony of groans answered him.
"Shut up, Straw Hat," came a voice from under three layers of blanket. "Some of us are still pretending the day hasn't started."
Luffy grinned — wide, bright, completely immune to morning grumpiness. He swung his legs off the bottom bunk (no one had dared give the human slingshot a top bunk since the Ceiling Incident) and landed with a soft, cheerful thump.
"Today's gonna be awesome," he announced to nobody in particular. "I can feel it! My fists are ready!"
The recruit directly above him — Koby, lanky, bespectacled, perpetually anxious — poked his head over the edge, hair in full rebellion.
"Luffy… it's five in the morning. The only thing ready should be your eyelids. Closed."
"Sleep is for later!" Luffy shot back happily. "Like when you're old! Grandpa sleeps like a rock now!"
"That's because Vice Admiral Garp is… Vice Admiral Garp," Koby mumbled, pushing his glasses up. "And also because he punched an entire reef into sand last month. Normal humans need rest."
Luffy tilted his head. "What's normal?"
Koby stared at him for several long seconds.
"I'm starting to believe that word was never invented for you."
Across the aisle, another recruit sat up slowly. Much more slowly.
Roronoa Zoro — tall, scarred, three swords already within arm's reach even in sleep — opened one eye. The look he leveled at Luffy was the exact expression a predator gives something small, noisy, and inexplicably fearless.
"If you yell 'meat' one more time before breakfast," he said, voice low and gravelly, "I'm using your hat as a target dummy."
Luffy gasped dramatically, both hands flying to protect the straw treasure on his head.
"You wouldn't!"
"Keep talking."
"You'd have to catch me first!"
Zoro's second eye opened. The stare intensified.
"I will tie those rubber arms of yours into a bow and use you as a skipping rope during laps. Don't test me."
Luffy's grin somehow got even wider.
"You called me rubber! That means we're friends!"
"It means you're annoying."
"Still counts!"
Zoro exhaled through his nose like a bull deciding whether murder was worth the paperwork, then lay back down muttering something about regretting every life choice that led to this assignment.
(The truth — which neither would ever admit out loud — was that Zoro had specifically requested transfer to Branch 153 after hearing about a certain seventeen-year-old recruit who had knocked a sea king unconscious with one punch during water survival drills… then apologized to it when it woke up.)
The barracks door slammed open with enough force to make the hinges whimper.
Drill Instructor "Iron" Hina stood framed in the pale dawn light — tall, immaculate, pink hair pulled back so severely it looked painful, cigarette already glowing between her lips.
"Recruits!" she snapped. "Outside in ninety seconds! Full PT gear! Last one out runs the course until their legs fall off — and then they keep running on stumps!"
Chaos. Glorious, half-asleep, bootlace-tripping chaos.
Luffy — already in PT clothes because he'd slept in them ("saves time!") — was out the door before most people had even found their socks.
He skidded into the courtyard, threw both arms wide, and shouted at the slowly brightening sky:
"GOOD MORNING, WORLD!!!"
Somewhere far out at sea, a seagull screamed like it had just seen its own obituary.
Hina took a long drag, exhaled a perfect smoke ring, and muttered under her breath:
"This is going to be one of those days."
—
Morning physical training lasted two hours and twenty-three minutes.
It included:
- Thirty-five laps around the perimeter (Luffy did fifty-one because he "saw a cool bird and followed it for a while")
- Two hundred push-ups (Zoro did his with three swords balanced across his back, daring anyone to comment)
- Rope climb (Luffy stretched his arms straight to the top platform instead of climbing, earning him an extra sixty push-ups and a five-minute lecture on "Marine-approved technique")
- Sparring rounds (Luffy's fist stretched through four training dummies before Hina reluctantly snapped seastone-laced cuffs on his wrists for the rest of the session)
- And finally the infamous "Log Carry" — hauling a freshly-cut, rain-soaked log the full length of the parade ground while chanting cadence.
Most four-man teams struggled to lift their log off the ground.
Luffy carried his overhead with one hand while eating a ration bar with the other.
Hina watched this for a full minute without blinking.
"…Monkey D. Luffy."
"Yup, Instructor Hina ma'am!"
"The log is meant to be carried by a team. Four people. Working together."
"Yeah! But everyone else looked super tired!" Luffy said cheerfully. "So I took care of it! That's what crew—uh, squadmates do, right? Help each other get stronger!"
The rest of his supposed team — currently collapsed in the dirt, gasping like landed fish — made various wheezing sounds that might have been agreement, betrayal, or simple oxygen starvation.
Hina exhaled another perfect smoke ring.
"You," she said slowly, "are a walking regulation violation."
Luffy beamed so hard his cheeks pushed the hat brim upward.
"I get told that a lot!"
—
Breakfast was scheduled for 07:30 sharp.
Menu: boiled eggs, plain rice, grilled mackerel, miso soup, pickled vegetables.
Luffy stared at his tray like it had just kicked his dog.
"Where's… the meat?"
The cook — a grizzled petty officer missing two fingers and most of his patience — didn't even glance up.
"Meat comes Thursday. Today is Monday. Eat the fish, recruit."
Luffy's lip trembled.
"But… fish is okay, but meat is… meat."
Zoro, sitting across the table, stabbed his mackerel with unnecessary force.
"You ate four ration bars during PT. You're not dying."
"But those were chocolate! Chocolate isn't the same!"
Koby, wisely seated at the far end, whispered:
"Please don't start another incident…"
Too late.
Luffy stood up on the bench, hands on hips, hat tilted at a defiant angle.
"Hey everybody!" he shouted. "Who wants real food?!"
A few hands went up. Hesitant at first. Then more.
Luffy's grin turned supernova.
"Then come with me!"
Before Hina could finish her coffee, before the duty officer could finish yelling "Recruit Luffy, sit your ass down!", Luffy had vaulted over two tables, kicked through the kitchen doors, and reappeared thirty seconds later carrying an entire side of beef over one shoulder like it was a particularly large pillow.
The mess hall went dead silent.
Spoons clattered.
The cook's mouth hung open.
Luffy dropped the beef onto the nearest table with a meaty *thud* that shook trays.
"Food secured!" he announced proudly. "Who wants first slice?!"
Pandemonium.
Beautiful, greasy, glorious pandemonium.
Zoro sighed, stood, drew Wado Ichimonji, and started carving perfect portions with the calm focus of a man who'd accepted chaos as his life's companion.
Koby buried his face in both hands.
Hina appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable behind her sunglasses.
"Monkey D. Luffy."
Luffy turned, holding up a thick slab like a holy relic.
"Yessir ma'am Instructor Hina sir?!"
She studied him.
Then — very slowly — she removed her sunglasses.
"You have fifteen minutes to cook and share that before I write you up to Headquarters."
Luffy's eyes became twin bonfires.
"YOU'RE THE GREATEST, INSTRUCTOR HINA!!!"
She slid the sunglasses back on.
"Don't make me regret it."
And as recruits scrambled for pans, salt, fire, and anything that could be used as seasoning, the old cook muttered to himself, half in awe, half in despair:
"…That kid's either gonna burn the Navy down… or feed the whole damn thing back to life."
He paused.
"Probably both."
—
By the time the impromptu feast ended, Branch 153 smelled like a seaside barbecue festival.
Recruits sat everywhere — on tables, on the floor, leaning against walls — laughing, grease shining on chins, faces brighter than they'd been in months.
Luffy perched cross-legged on the serving counter, chewing happily, hat pushed back.
Zoro leaned nearby, arms folded, one eye half-closed.
"They're gonna make us run punishment laps until next week for this, you know."
Luffy swallowed, grinned.
"Worth it."
Koby — who had somehow ended up with a perfect piece of ribeye despite his earlier protests — sighed softly.
"…Yeah. It really was."
Outside the window, Hina watched the scene unfold.
She took one final drag, flicked the cigarette away, and murmured to the morning air:
"Monkey D. Luffy… the day you finally wear that white coat for real…"
A small, sharp, almost fond smile touched her lips.
"…the East Blue is going to look very different."
The next bell rang — morning classes.
Luffy jumped down, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and yelled across the hall:
"Alright everybody! Time to learn stuff!!"
Thirty overfed, exhausted, ridiculously happy recruits roared back in answer — loud enough to rattle windows.
And high above them, the wind shifted.
Just a little.
Just enough.
To carry the smell of grilled meat, laughter, and something warm and unstoppable all the way across the sea.