General POV:
Far beyond the reach of seagulls, newspapers, and the ever-watchful eyes of the Marines, an island rested in silence within the depths of the Calm Belt. Its cliffs stood tall and weathered, like ancient sentinels guarding forgotten secrets. Mist clung to the treetops, and dense jungle stretched endlessly across the land, untouched by the footprints of men or the scars of history.
This place knew nothing of politics, bounty posters, or the tremors shaking the world.
Here, Justin Vargas trained.
His body was a furnace of pain. Muscles screamed with each movement, sweat poured down his back, and his knuckles dug into the cracked stone as he lowered his chest toward the ground for the fiftieth time. His arms trembled, barely able to support him, yet he pushed again with all the strength he could gather. Teeth clenched. Jaw locked. His mind quieted, focused only on the next motion.
There were no words of encouragement. No praise waiting at the end of the set. He moved because he had to. He endured because the path forward left no room for weakness.
And through the pain, he grew stronger.
He had no time for regrets. Justin knew exactly what he had done, and he understood that the world would never overlook it. This wasn't some reckless outburst from a nameless rookie who overestimated his limits. The World Government could not simply brush it aside or mislabel him the way they once did with Luffy during the War of the Best, or later in Dressrosa, when the truth had been too inconvenient to acknowledge.
Justin had killed two Celestial Dragons.
That alone ensured he would never again be ignored.
He had also defeated two CP0 agents during the chaos, but there was no pride to be found in that victory. Malik had been powerful, skilled enough to threaten seasoned fighters, but he was far from the top of the food chain. Not even close.
Justin had come to understand that strength was relative. Malik was formidable, but he was not the strongest within CP0, and even the strongest among them, by the current standards, would likely only match one of the commanders serving under the future Emperors. And that was being generous, basing the comparison on Rob Lucci's recent performance at Egghead Island.
The truth was simple. Justin had made waves, but the sea had not yet started to rise. That was still coming.
And he needed to be ready.
Silvers Rayleigh stood close by, arms crossed over his chest, watching in silence. His eyes followed Justin's every movement with the sharp attention of a seasoned warrior. There was no amusement in his expression, no casual ease. Just quiet scrutiny.
The boy was improving fast. Far too fast.
Rayleigh had known prodigies. He had sailed beside Gol D. Roger, witnessed Shanks grow from a spirited apprentice into a true powerhouse, and had once been called a genius himself. But this felt different. Justin absorbed techniques and concepts at a pace that defied reason. It wasn't just intelligence or discipline. It was something else. Something that bent the boundaries of natural growth.
Some might have called it unnatural. Others would say it wasn't human.
Rayleigh didn't care what they said. If anything, it only strengthened his resolve to give the boy everything he could. Justin wasn't just worth training, he was someone worth preparing for the world that would come after.
Rayleigh's gaze narrowed slightly as he stepped forward.
"Stop," he said, his voice steady and calm.
Justin collapsed to the ground with a dull thud, the sound swallowed by the quiet jungle around them. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, lungs burning but controlled. Sweat soaked through the fabric of his shirt, pooling along his back and dripping into the earth beneath him. He did not move to wipe it away. He simply breathed.
"You're leaning to the right when your strength starts to fade," Rayleigh said, his tone even and matter-of-fact. "It's a small habit, but one that will get you killed in a real fight."
"I know," Justin muttered between breaths.
"You think you know, but your body doesn't. Not yet."
Rayleigh's words weren't harsh. They weren't meant to be. They were observations, clear and deliberate. He wasn't criticizing. He was preparing the boy for survival.
Twelve days into their training, Rayleigh had begun to understand the scope of Justin's potential. It wasn't just the strength or the relentless willpower. It was something far rarer, a mind that could adapt in real time, a body that kept pace with it. Techniques introduced in the morning would be executed by nightfall with precision that bordered on unnatural.
Most fighters, even those gifted with great talent, would take months to reach the level Justin had already achieved.
And Rayleigh was just getting started.
In less than two weeks, Justin had done what most could not achieve in months of dedicated training. He had internalized the core principles of Rokushiki, mastering the movements not just in form, but in purpose. His use of Soru had evolved into a near-perfect burst of speed, fluid and explosive. The Armament Haki that once flared from him on instinct, wild and unchecked, had begun to take shape. It now moved with control, responding to his will rather than just his emotions.
Rayleigh had seen many young warriors rise, but none like this. Justin was not just a gifted student. He was something more. A force shaped by tragedy, sharpened by intent.
Yet even now, with all his progress, he remained incomplete.
No matter how hard he pushed, no matter how quickly he learned, there was one piece he could not touch. One space in the spectrum of power that continued to evade him. Observation Haki remained distant, unreachable. As though something within him, unseen and unresolved, stood in the way.
Rayleigh's eyes drifted toward a boulder at the edge of the clearing. A deep crack split it clean through the middle, left behind by a recent strike from Justin. The damage was clean, decisive, and powerful.
But strength alone was never enough.
"You are powerful, but not whole," Rayleigh said, his voice quiet but firm.
Justin sat upright, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His expression shifted, becoming sharper, more focused. "Because of Observation."
Rayleigh gave a slow nod. "You cannot sense anything around you. Not even me. I have stood right next to you more than once, and your awareness has never shifted."
"I've tried," Justin said, the frustration in his voice barely contained. "I reach for it, but there's nothing. Not even a flicker."
Rayleigh looked at him for a moment, studying the lines in his face and the weight behind his words.
"Sometimes that happens," he said, lowering himself to sit on a flat stone nearby. "It is not always about strength or skill. Some blocks come from inside. Trauma. Buried memories. Emotions that have not been faced. Whatever it is, something is keeping you from connecting with that part of yourself."
Justin kept his gaze on the ground for a moment, lost in thought. The dirt beneath his fingertips felt rough and warm, grounding him in the present. He looked up slowly.
"You think I'll never learn it?"
Rayleigh tilted his head slightly. "Some never do. But you are not like them. You do not wait for power to come to you. You chase it down. If anyone can tear through whatever wall is in front of them, it is you. That much I believe."
The conversation faded into silence. Only the soft rustle of leaves in the canopy overhead filled the space between them, carried gently on the breeze. The jungle beyond remained still, as if listening.
Then Rayleigh stood.
He rolled his shoulder slowly, the subtle pop of his joints echoing faintly in the still air. The movement was casual, but there was something behind it. Something practiced. Something final.
"On your feet," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "You've rested long enough."
Justin let out a low grunt as he pushed himself up. His legs were still heavy, his arms sore from the endless repetitions earlier, but he didn't complain. Not once. He had already learned that Rayleigh never gave unnecessary orders. If he said it was time, then it was.
"We're done with theory," Rayleigh continued as he walked a few paces toward the open clearing where Justin had spent most of his training. He motioned with a slow hand. "From now on, you'll learn by example. You'll spar with me directly."
Justin blinked, caught off guard. "Now?"
"Yes. If you intend to fight gods, you need to prove you can stand against a king first."
He didn't elaborate. He didn't offer a speech or a warning. Instead, Rayleigh stepped into the clearing, unfastening his coat and letting it fall to the ground behind him. His posture shifted slightly, his feet sinking into the earth with controlled purpose. His hands relaxed at his sides, yet somehow seemed more dangerous that way.
There was no glow. No aura. No outward flash of power.
And yet the space around him changed.
The air felt heavier, as if the island itself had taken a breath and was holding it.
Justin's instincts stirred. Something primal in his body screamed at him to step back, to create distance. Every part of him understood that he was no longer facing a teacher.
He was facing a warrior.
He clenched his fists and stepped forward anyway.
Justin stepped forward, planting his feet with purpose. His fists rose, coated in the sheen of concentrated Haki. It flickered around his arms like strands of electric thread, wild at first, then sharpening into something more refined with each breath he took. Rayleigh watched with a faint tilt of the head, one eyebrow lifting in quiet approval.
"You really are a fast learner," he said, almost to himself.
Justin said nothing. He inhaled deeply, focused on the sound of his own breath, then launched himself forward.
His punch was clean, swift, backed by everything he had drilled over the past twelve days. But Rayleigh met it with the calm of experience. He raised a single palm and intercepted the strike with minimal effort, redirecting the momentum with a subtle twist of his wrist. In the same fluid motion, he swept Justin's legs from under him, then gave a quick push to the chest that sent him rolling across the dirt.
"Again," Rayleigh said, voice even.
Justin sprang to his feet, pain ignored. He rushed in once more.
Another block. Another counter.
"Again."
Justin charged. Again.
He adapted. Again.
He fell. Again.
With each attempt, his movements grew sharper, faster, more efficient. There was no space for frustration, only learning. Rayleigh didn't slow his pace, nor did he offer encouragement. He gave corrections, delivered with precision and without ceremony. A slight shift in the angle of the foot. A note on balance. A warning about overextending. At times, he offered a simple nod. Once, a brief exhale, more telling than any words.
The sun arced higher in the sky, but neither of them noticed.
Only the rhythm of motion mattered now.
The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the clearing and bathing the sky in hues of gold and amber. The light filtered through the treetops in broken streaks, painting the earth with a soft glow that marked the end of a long, unforgiving day.
Justin could no longer stand.
His legs had given out minutes ago, his arms long since reduced to trembling limbs barely able to lift themselves. He now lay flat on his back, staring up at the sky through half-lidded eyes. His chest rose and fell with slow, measured breaths. His fists, still clenched, dug into the dirt beneath him as though refusing to let go of the fight, even after the body had surrendered.
Rayleigh stood a short distance away, his silhouette framed against the last golden light of the day. He looked down at Justin, not with pity or concern, but with something closer to quiet approval.
"Good effort," he said, his voice calm. "You learned more from this than ten lectures."
There was no need to say more. The lesson had been brutal, but it had been absorbed.
Rayleigh turned without another word and began walking back toward the edge of the clearing, his footsteps silent against the ground. The trees seemed to part for him without a sound.
Justin remained where he was, alone beneath the darkening sky. He watched as the first stars began to pierce through the fading light. His body ached, but his mind was clear.
Tomorrow would come.
And with it, more.
Justin's POV:
Pain throbbed through my arms, a deep, pulsing ache that sank into the bone. But it felt right. It meant I had earned something today. I lay still in the dim light of the hut, my body battered but my thoughts racing.
I kept replaying the way Rayleigh moved. There was no hesitation, no showmanship. Just precision. Every step, every strike, every movement had purpose. It was as if the world bent itself around his rhythm, not the other way around.
And he was teaching me that. He was passing on what others would have begged for. Not because he had to, but because he believed I could take it. Maybe even take it further.
And I will.
I will absorb everything he teaches me. Not to mimic him. Not to walk in his shadow. I am not here to become a second Dark King. I am here to surpass that title entirely.
Those clean, graceful motions he uses, I will turn them into something sharper. Something deadlier. Not art, but execution. A style that no one else can copy. A rhythm that belongs only to me.
I stared at the wooden ceiling of the hut, the cracks between the beams catching faint moonlight. My body screamed for rest, but my mind refused to settle. One thought burned quietly behind everything else.
I will not be remembered for what I learned.
I will be remembered for what I created.
Aside from everything else, there was the one thing I couldn't ignore. I still couldn't feel presence. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how still I became or how far I reached inside myself, I couldn't sense it. I couldn't hear the so-called voice of the world that others spoke of with certainty.
Not being able to use Observation Haki gnawed at me constantly. It wasn't just frustrating. It felt like a flaw carved into the very core of who I was trying to become. This power, so essential to the strongest fighters in the world, was out of my reach. Everyone around me would expect me to master it, Rayleigh included, and yet here I was, unable to even touch the edge of it.
Doubts crept in when things got quiet. If I couldn't master one of the most vital aspects of Haki, how could I expect to make a difference? How could I expect to survive in the world I had just declared war against?
But then I remembered Rayleigh's words. I could still move forward.
And I had to.
For my father. For the justice he was denied. For the life that was stolen from him without a second thought.
And for what I had already started.
Without Justin knowing, his unwavering will had already begun to stir the world at its deepest roots. Not just in men's hearts or whispered rumors, but in the unseen current that binds the seas, the skies, and the fates of all who live upon them. The world had felt his defiance, and it had started to respond.
-end-
Sea Calendar — November 20th, Year 1516