The royal training grounds were a vast, sandy arena nestled within a natural bowl of living coral. The air here was still and warm, carrying the gritty scent of crushed shell underfoot and the damp, mineral smell of the surrounding rock. High above, the palace's protective bubble distorted the sunlight into wavering, liquid patterns that danced across the sand. King Neptune had settled his immense bulk onto a specially reinforced bench of carved whalebone, with Ryuboshi and Manboshi flanking him like excited pups. Jinbe stood at his side, a mountain of calm vigilance. A little ways off, Shirahoshi watched, her hands clasped under her chin, her large eyes wide with a mixture of anxiety and fascination.
In the center of the arena, Fukaboshi stood poised. He held a practice sword, a well-worn piece of dense, water-hardened ironwood. His expression was one of intense, serious focus, his brow furrowed, his body coiled with the tension of a warrior about to test himself against a legend's shadow. Across from him, Marya stood with an almost bored stillness. The difference in their stances was stark—one a study in concentrated effort, the other in effortless potential.
Fukaboshi's voice cut through the quiet, respectful of the space. "Are you ready?"
Marya took a slow breath, her golden eyes assessing him. A silent debate unfolded behind her stoic mask. To draw the Kogatana and end this in a heartbeat would be the height of insult, a dismissal of his royal status and skill. But to draw Eclipse… that was a statement. It was respect, but a respect that came with an unspoken warning. She reached over her shoulder, her fingers closing around the familiar, worn hilt of the massive black blade. The soft shiiink of steel leaving its scabbard seemed to suck the sound from the air. The obsidian length of Eternal Eclipse caught the strange light, not reflecting it but seeming to devour it, a slash of absolute darkness in the shimmering arena.
"I am ready whenever you are, Your Highness," she said, her voice flat.
Fukaboshi nodded, a sharp, respectful dip of his head. Then he charged.
He was fast, his movements honed by a lifetime of training. His practice sword cut through the air with a solid whump. But Marya didn't parry. She simply wasn't there when the blow landed. A slight shift of her weight, a tilt of her torso, and the strike passed through empty space. He attacked again, a flurry of blows meant to test her defense. Each time, Marya moved with an economy of motion that was almost lazy, her boots scuffing softly in the sand as she evaded every swing without ever bringing her own blade to bear.
Fukaboshi halted, his chest rising and falling with the first hints of exertion. A flicker of frustration crossed his disciplined features. "Do you intend to engage," he asked, his voice tight, "or merely to dodge?"
Marya's eyebrow arched, a faint, cheeky spark in her otherwise cool gaze. "I thought I would allow you to get properly warmed up first."
The prince's eyes narrowed. With a low growl, he lunged again, this time putting the full force of his body into a powerful, sweeping strike aimed to break her guard.
Marya didn't dodge. Her wrist flicked.
It was a movement so small, so blindingly quick, it was less an action and more a thought. The tip of Eclipse, a sliver of living void, tapped the flat of his practice sword with a force that defied its gentleness. There was a sharp crack of wood on steel, and the ironwood sword was torn from Fukaboshi's grip. It spun end over end in a high, foolish arc before clattering to the sand several feet away.
Silence.
Fukaboshi stood frozen, his hand still curled around a weapon that was no longer there. He stared at it, then at Marya, his expression one of pure, uncomprehending shock. "I… I didn't even see you move," he breathed, his voice full of awe.
On the sidelines, the reaction was a synchronized wave of disbelief. Ryuboshi and Manboshi's heads swiveled toward each other, identical looks of stunned confusion on their faces. King Neptune's jaw had gone slack. Shirahoshi gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
Jinbe's deep, rolling laugh shattered the stillness. "Just like her father!"
"Astounding," King Neptune murmured, his voice filled with genuine reverence.
"Again," Fukaboshi said, his pride stung but his warrior's spirit ignited. He retrieved his practice sword. "Please."
Marya gave a slight, almost imperceptible shrug. "If that is your wish, Your Highness."
Four more times he charged. Four more times, the same minimal, impossibly fast flick of her wrist sent his sword spinning from his grasp to land in the sand with a series of dull, apologetic thuds. There was no anger in the act, no malice—only an indisputable, unassailable display of superiority.
After the fifth disarming, Fukaboshi did not immediately move to retrieve his weapon. He stood for a long moment, his shoulders slumping not in defeat, but in acceptance. He bowed deeply from the waist, a gesture of profound respect.
"You are clearly in a league far beyond my own," he said, his voice steady and honest. "Your skill is unmatched. Thank you for the opportunity to spar with you. It has been… an education."
Marya nodded, returning the bow with a curt, respectful dip of her head. "You are welcome, Your Highness." She sheathed Eclipse, the dark blade vanishing into its scabbard with a final, soft sigh.
King Neptune was beaming. "Her skill is unmatched! She is in a league of her own!"
Jinbe chuckled, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "As is her father. That is definitely his fighting style, yet she has made it her own. He has taught her well."
It was then that Shirahoshi spoke, her voice soft but clear, cutting through the praise. She had unclasped her hands, and they were now balled into determined little fists at her sides. She bit her bottom lip, then announced to everyone and no one, "I am not going to be afraid anymore!"
All eyes turned to her. The gentle giantess, often hidden away, stood a little straighter.
"I am going to learn to be brave," she declared, her gaze fixed on Marya with fierce admiration. "And I am going to learn more about my own abilities!"
Jinbe's laughter boomed again, full of warmth and pride. "The princess is feeling inspired!"
Ryuboshi and Manboshi immediately began cheering, their earlier shock forgotten. "You can do it, sister!"
"Yeah! Show them what you've got!"
The supportive chorus was punctuated by the final, soft clatter of Fukaboshi's practice sword as he laid it gently on a weapons rack, the sound a period at the end of the lesson.
As the group began to exit the training field, Jinbe clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the sandy arena. "Well done!"
Marya fell into step beside him, her expression once again an unreadable mask. But as they walked away from the royal family, her mind was already working, calculating the value of the respect she had just earned. The path to the Devourer's heart now felt a little less guarded, the first barrier of royal suspicion gracefully, and decisively, dismantled.
The procession back from the training grounds was a far cry from the formal march to it. The atmosphere had thawed, warmed by the shared spectacle and the easy, rumbling laughter of King Neptune. They moved through the grand, echoing corridors of the palace, the cool, mineral-scented air flowing around them. The light here was softer, filtered through skylights of carved alabaster that depicted ancient sea battles, casting shifting patterns on the mother-of-pearl floors.
Ryuboshi and Manboshi, their earlier awe having melted into boyish excitement, abandoned all princely decorum to swim in excited circles around Marya.
"How did you learn to move like that?" Ryuboshi asked, his voice a rushed whisper as if sharing a secret.
"Was it years and years of training?" Manboshi chimed in, mirroring his brother's movements. "Did you have to practice every single day? Did your father make you chop waterfalls in half?"
Marya walked between them, her hands tucked in her jacket pockets. She offered short, non-committal answers, her mind still half-occupied with the tactical advantages her display had won. "He insisted on fundamentals. Repetition. There are no shortcuts." Her tone was flat, a recitation of facts meant to discourage further inquiry, but it only seemed to fuel their fascination.
A little behind them, Shirahoshi swam. The large, leather-bound book, Poseidon's Bequest, was clutched so tightly to her chest that her knuckles were white. Her usual gentle expression was pinched with a deep, internal struggle, her large eyes fixed on Marya's back. She seemed to be wrestling with a monumental decision, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
Finally, as if gathering every ounce of her newfound courage, the princess surged forward. She gently nudged her brothers aside, her immense size making the action seem both delicate and inevitable. She came to a halt directly in front of Marya, forcing the group to stop.
"How?" Shirahoshi blurted out, her voice trembling slightly. "How are you so… brave? So confident? You weren't scared of my brother at all. You weren't scared of any of this." Her gesture took in the overwhelming grandeur of the palace itself.
Marya blinked, caught off guard. This was not a question about technique or lineage. It was personal. Her usual deflections and curt answers felt useless against the princess's raw, genuine need. For a long moment, she was silent, her golden eyes searching Shirahoshi's anxious face. The stoic mask remained, but behind it, she was sifting through a lifetime of conditioned responses, looking for an answer that was both true and not a weapon.
"After my mother passed…" Marya began, her voice quieter than usual, the words feeling unfamiliar and heavy on her tongue.
She never got to finish.
Shirahoshi's hands flew to her mouth, the book tumbling forgotten into the gentle current to be caught by a startled Ryuboshi. "Your mother is gone?" she breathed, her eyes wide with a sudden, profound understanding that seemed to eclipse her own experience.
Marya's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. She gave a single, solemn nod, the motion stiff. It was more admission than she ever gave anyone.
Something in Shirahoshi's expression shifted. The anxiety was burned away by a surge of fierce, protective empathy. Her gentle features set with a determination so alien to her nature it was shocking. Without another word, she acted.
She scooped Marya up in her two large, soft hands.
The world lurched for Marya. One moment she was standing on the cool palace floor, the next she was lifted, cradled in palms that were surprisingly warm and smooth. A startled grunt escaped her. Instinctively, her feet scrambled for purchase on the princess's lifelines before she gave up, settling into a seated position in the makeshift cradle. She looked utterly ridiculous, a stoic swordswoman in denim shorts and boots being held like a treasured doll by a giant mermaid.
A chorus of shouts erupted around them.
"Shirahoshi! What are you doing?" Fukaboshi's voice was laced with shock and authority.
"Put her down this instant!" King Neptune boomed, though his tone held more bewilderment than anger.
"Sister, have you lost your mind?" Manboshi cried.
Jinbe simply stared, his usually composed face a picture of astonishment.
Shirahoshi ignored them all. She looked over her shoulder, her pink hair swirling around her face like a halo. "I promise I will be back by dinner!" she called out, her voice surprisingly steady.
And then she was moving, swimming down the corridor with powerful strokes of her tail, carrying her bewildered guest away from the sputtering royal family.
"Shirahoshi! Where are you going?!" Fukaboshi's call echoed after them.
But the princess was already turning a corner, disappearing from view with her unlikely passenger. The last thing the stunned group saw was Marya's face, a comical mix of utter bafflement and dawning resignation, before she vanished.
Silence descended on the corridor, broken only by the soft drip of water from an ornate fountain.
Then, Jinbe's deep, rolling laughter shattered the quiet. It was a full, unreserved sound that bounced off the vaulted ceilings. He shook his head, a wide grin spreading across his face.
"Well," he rumbled, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye. "It seems the princess was far more inspired by our guest than any of us could have predicted."
The path to the Devourer's heart had just taken another wildly unexpected turn, swept away on a current of impulsive, royal empathy.
The world was a rushing blur of carved coral archways and startled courtiers. Wind—or the underwater equivalent of it—whipped through Marya's hair as she sat cradled in the princess's surprisingly warm, soft palms. The grand, echoing halls of the palace streamed past at a speed she'd only ever experienced on the deck of a ship. She had to raise her voice over the sudden rush.
"Where, exactly, are we going?" Marya asked, her tone more one of practical inquiry than alarm. This was an unexpected variable, but not an unmanageable one.
Shirahoshi's face, visible over the curve of her own hands, was a portrait of flustered determination. "I… I…!" she stammered, her mind clearly racing. The destination had been an impulse; the logistics were now dawning on her. Then her eyes lit up. "The Sea Forest! We're going to the Sea Forest!"
Marya gave a curt nod. It was a location, which was better than none. Her tactical mind immediately began mapping the route and potential challenges. "Should we expect resistance?" she asked, her voice calm.
The princess's determined expression faltered. "I… hadn't thought about that."
A faint, wry smirk touched Marya's lips. The sheer, naive audacity of it was almost charming. "It's unlikely they'll just let the crown princess leave the palace grounds without an escort," she stated, not unkindly, but as a simple fact.
Shirahoshi's shoulders slumped slightly. "Oh…"
Seeing the resolve begin to crack, Marya's smirk widened. She rose to her feet in Shirahoshi's palms, finding her balance with an easy grace that spoke of a lifetime on unstable footing. The leather of her boots gripped the princess's skin. "Keep moving forward," Marya instructed, her voice dropping into a cooler, focused register. "I am exceptionally good at removing obstacles."
A memory, sweet and sudden, flashed in Shirahoshi's eyes—another voice, another promise of protection. A giggle, part nerves and part genuine delight, escaped her. She nodded, her determination reforged, and surged onward.
They rounded a final corner, and the main entrance loomed ahead—a pair of enormous doors forged from dark, polished stone inlaid with intricate silver patterns. A contingent of palace guards, their armor gleaming, snapped to attention. Their captain, a burly swordfish fishman, stepped forward, his hand raised.
"Princess! Halt! You cannot leave without your—" His command died in his throat as he saw the human woman standing defiantly in the princess's hands.
Marya's golden eyes narrowed. The world seemed to slow. Her Observation Haki flowed out, reading the intent of the guards, the composition of the door. She sensed the unique, energy-deadening property woven into the stone. "Sea Prism Stone reinforcement," she muttered under her breath. "No matter."
In one fluid motion, she reached over her shoulder and drew Eternal Eclipse. The obsidian blade seemed to drink the light from the corridor, a sliver of absolute night in the shimmering palace.
She felt Shirahoshi hesitate, a tremor of fear running through the hands that held her. "Don't stop," Marya commanded, her voice sharp and clear. "Trust me."
As the guards rushed forward, tridents leveled, Marya didn't step down to meet them. She simply swung the massive black blade in a single, horizontal arc from her elevated perch. She didn't aim for the guards, but for the space between them and the door.
There was no loud clang of metal on stone. Instead, the air itself ripped. A visible wave of concussive force, shimmering with black-and-crimson energy, exploded from Eclipse's edge. It was a pressurized arc of pure, unleashed Haki.
The effect was instantaneous and devastating. The reinforced doors didn't just break; they atomized, exploding outward in a cloud of dust and glittering silver shrapnel. The shockwave hit the advancing guards like a physical wall, lifting them off their feet and hurling them back down the corridor in a clatter of armor and stunned shouts. They landed in groaning, disorganized heaps, disarmed and dazed but, notably, not critically injured.
The path was clear. The world outside—the vibrant blues and greens of Fish-Man Island—lay beyond the now-vanished doorway.
Shirahoshi didn't need to be told twice. With a powerful thrust of her tail, she shot through the opening, leaving the stunned palace security behind. As they burst into the open water, the princess glanced back at the chaos, a mix of guilt and exhilaration on her face.
"I'm so sorry!" she called out, her voice carrying on the current. "I promise I'll be back by dinner!"
Then they were gone, speeding away from the palace, a giant mermaid and her fiercely protective, door-shattering guest, racing toward the mysteries of the Sea Forest. The path to the Devourer's heart had just been blasted wide open.