Ritter leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched the three little ones fight over food around the bubbling hotpot. The lively chaos of their laughter and clattering chopsticks filled the warm air.
A strand of crimson mist quietly curled from Ritter's sleeve, snatching up several slices of meat from the pot. But instead of eating them himself
No, no, no.
He deftly divided the meat, sending a portion floating into Ann's bowl and another toward Sister Rouge, before calmly slipping the last few slices into his own.
"Uncle Ritter, you're cheating!" Ace cried out, puffing his cheeks indignantly. "That's not fair!"
"As your uncle, this isn't cheating it's called fair distribution," Ritter replied, feigning seriousness. "What, can't keep up with me?"
Ann suddenly raised her small bowl, gazing at him with those big, expectant eyes.
"Alright, alright, one more piece for you." Ritter chuckled as the blood mist obediently delivered another few slices into her bowl.
Sabo stared at the sudden pile of meat in his dish, flustered. "I I can't eat this much..."
"You need to eat more if you want to grow taller," Rouge said gently, adding a fish ball into his bowl. "Look at Ace he's never said 'I can't eat anymore.'"
Ace, face stuffed with food, didn't even hear her. He was entirely focused on devouring his share as quickly as possible because if he didn't, he'd have nothing left in minutes.
The dinner ended in laughter, their plates wiped clean and their bellies full. After tidying up, Rouge brought out a few soft quilts. "Sabo, you can squeeze in with Ace for tonight. Tomorrow, I'll go into town to buy you your own bedding."
"No need! This is perfect already!" Sabo waved his hands quickly, then hesitated. "I used to..." He stopped mid-sentence, not wanting to ruin the warmth of the moment.
Ritter reached over and ruffled his blond hair. "Here, you can say whatever's on your mind. No one here's gonna laugh at you."
Later that night, under the quiet glow of the moon, Ace and Sabo lay side by side on their futon. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting silver squares on the wooden floor.
"Hey, Sabo," Ace whispered suddenly. "Tomorrow I'll show you our secret base! Ann knows where it is too!"
Sabo turned toward him, his eyes curious. "Secret base?"
"Yup!" Ace grinned proudly, gesturing excitedly. "It's got a swing and a lookout tower! You can see the whole ocean from there!"
Outside the door, Ritter and Rouge exchanged a quiet smile before tiptoeing away.
"That boy," Rouge murmured softly. "He says he's saving up money to set sail one day."
Ritter smirked. "Heh. Once they're out at sea, they'll realize almost everyone they meet already knows their uncle Ritter."
Rouge gave him a look, half amused and half exasperated, before heading upstairs.
Now that Ritter had time to stay in Windmill Village, there was no rush to sail again. At this point, people only went out to sea for one of two reasons dreams or survival.
But Ritter? He needed neither. He'd already achieved both. Fame, wealth, territory all his. Money meant nothing to him now.
His crew no longer resembled Roger's band of free-spirited adventurers. They were closer to Kaido's or Big Mom's kind of empire: stable, established, with land and power.
Whitebeard had his scattered territories, most managed by subordinate captains. Ritter, on the other hand, preferred structure and reach. His name alone carried more weight than a bounty poster ever could.
He'd already entered his legacy era the era of the strong guiding the next generation. And if he was going to train these three kids, he wouldn't do it halfheartedly.
If he only stayed for a few months, taught them a few techniques, then left claiming he'd "passed on the torch," that'd be shameless. No, he would stay long enough to ensure they understood what it meant to be strong.
The next morning, golden sunlight spilled into the quiet village. Ritter stood in the yard, holding three sets of custom-made weighted training gear. Blood mist swirled beside him, slipping through the cracks of the house to gently well, "gently" drag the three sleepy kids out of bed.
At this point, Ritter was practically a certified preschool battle instructor.
"Rise and shine, little sloths," he said with a grin. "Time for morning training."
Ace rubbed his eyes, mumbling, "But the sun's not even up yet..."
Splat!
A water balloon burst right across his face, drenching him awake. Ann had already dressed neatly, tying her shoes with practiced calm. Sabo blinked groggily at the gear Ritter held. "What's... this?"
"Specially designed training suits," Ritter said, snapping his fingers. The mist wrapped around them, helping each child into their set. "Starting today, you'll wear these all day except when sleeping."
Ace took one step, then froze. His limbs suddenly felt lead-heavy. "Wha so heavy!"
"You'll get used to it." Ritter clapped his hands. "Now, run around the village ten times. No breakfast until you're done."
"Ten laps?!" Ace's jaw dropped. "That's like "
"Eleven," Ritter added casually.
Ace shut his mouth and started running. Ann and Sabo followed close behind.
By the time they finished, all three collapsed on the ground, panting like bellows. Ritter, meanwhile, had a fresh breakfast of roasted meat and fruit juice ready for them.
"Eat up," he said cheerfully. "After this, we move on to the next stage."
"There's more?!" Sabo wailed.
"Of course," Ritter replied, his grin downright devilish. "Morning's for endurance, afternoon's for weapons, and night's for academics."
Of all the people who'd seen Ritter smile this much, only Shanks and Buggy could compare. He looked downright gleeful watching the kids suffer.
Ace nearly spat out his juice. "Academics?! You mean school stuff?"
"What, you think pirates don't need to read?" Ritter raised an eyebrow. "You want to be a sea-faring fool who can't even read a map? Hmph. Tell me, which good pirate can't even spell 'physical fitness'?"
Ann silently raised her hand in protest.
"Objection overruled," Ritter said, ruffling her hair. "Your uncle here taught himself everything, you know. When I sailed with your old man, there wasn't a single scholar aboard. I had to learn it all on my own."
And so, Ritter's devil training officially began.
Each morning, the villagers of Windmill Village would see three tiny figures running laps, with a relaxed Ritter strolling behind them. In the afternoons, their rhythmic sword swings echoed across the beach.
At night, the little ones hunched over a table, grimacing at arithmetic problems.
"First question: What's one plus one?"
"Second question: What's this symbol supposed to mean?"
Ace groaned. "Why do these dots even move?! Who told them they could move?!"
Ritter calmly sipped his coffee, utterly unbothered. "Ah, mathematics the most humiliating of all sciences. Time you experience the road I once walked."
The three children exchanged desperate looks.
The strongest third generation, it seemed, had truly begun their inheritance of pain.