"Ugh…" 427 groaned as a wave of throbbing pain washed over him. Blearily, he tried to open his eyes. Feeling the grit at the corners, he tried to move his hands, but found that he couldn't.
What the…
Blinking hard as his vision blurred into focus, he took in his surroundings. Someone had brought him up to a medical facility on a Germa snail. The dome shaped tent, exactly like the barracks, was a dead giveaway.
The other half-dead clones on med-bay beds helped with the realization too.
His arms were casted into place, and his ribs were covered in bandages.
Holy shit, I got my ass kicked.
Suddenly he realized something that made him reflexively jolt:
Damn it! I forgot to get more jerky!
He winced.
Note to self: no sudden movement.
Now that he was fully awake, his broken ribs and arms were clearly throwing a party to get his attention.
Peering out of the open door at the end of the tent, he caught a glimpse of bright sunlight, and the screeching of seagulls.
Already out to sea?
He sighed, letting himself relax. His mind wandered to the final battle. Another sigh. He was doing a lot of that today.
I'm so… goddamn weak.
He had always known that, but it hurt to see just how bad it was.
Who the hell almost dies to Hack? Hack, of all people? Did the guy even have lines in the original series?
Then again, he was being unfair. Hack had numerous qualifications to his name: Instructor to the Revolutionary Army, Dual-Haki user, and fishman-karate expert.
Despite all that, in the grand scheme of things, he wasn't even relevant. What does that make me?
427 tried to roll his shoulder, only to remember he couldn't move his arms.
Ever since he had woken up in that capsule, he had been constantly moving. Even his rest days had him tense like a wire. He had never taken the time to just… sit and think.
Now that he was tied down with nothing to do, he finally did.
His thoughts grew more somber as he remembered the city burning. The innocents that probably died.
Does that make me a hypocrite? That I enjoyed fighting the revolutionaries, but feel bad for the innocent?
There was no right answer, only opinions- and in 427's opinion, it didn't.
The revolutionaries knew what they were signing up for. They had accepted death. It's not like 427 enjoyed killing them either, it was the fight that thrilled him.
I'd enjoy it just as much if it was a sparring match. Probably?
Still, if he had his way, he'd never enter another battle that big until he got haki.
As if I'd ever get my way.
No, for that, he would need to leave.
God, the checklist before my departure just keeps getting longer: Navigation, confirmation that they don't have any way to track us, just being too damn weak to survive if I do leave. And…
I'm goddamn terrified.
His previous life was just a blur. He couldn't remember specifics about family, friends, work, or anything. All he remembered were miscellaneous thoughts.
He did remember, however, that he worked a regular, everyday job.
All of this was new to him.
The blood, the killing, everything.
He couldn't even talk to anyone about it. He couldn't show it. He just had to keep this fear and uncertainty buried away.
A lesser man would have broken already.
He steadied his shaky breathing. He couldn't afford the luxury of a nervous breakdown, not here.
He forced his thoughts back onto the plans of departure.
I'm terrified, and know literally nothing about this world. About the North Blue. That means, as I stay "comfortable" here, I'll be less likely to leave.
It was human instinct. He knew what he would do here, where he was. It was relatively safe and routine. He had medical care, and guaranteed food.
His biggest fear? Getting so comfortable, he decided not to leave.
If that happens, I'd truly just become another clone soldier.
He knew he was naturally lazy. This workout schedule, this force driving him, was all because his life was on the line.
It wasn't like Germa was the paragon of luxury. Ignoring the constant physical pain and battles, he lived in fear of someone noticing he was off, and dragging him into some laboratory to never return.
He did want to leave, but habit is insidious in how it creeps into your bones.
The only solution? To somehow make this place even more uncomfortable, so that I have to leave.
"The hell you thinking bout?"
427, startled, jolted in his bed, only to let out a pained groan as his broken bones screamed in protest.
He looked to his right to see Nine, sitting on a comically small stool for his size, arms crossed. His shoulders were shaking.
"BWAHAHAHAHA! You shoulda seen the look on your face!"
427 let out another groan, one with frustration mixed into the pain.
In typical Nine fashion, his expression froze, and he stopped laughing.
Damn, this guy locks in on the spot.
Nine's voice once again dragged him from his musings.
"You survived, huh? Not easily, from the looks of it."
427 nodded in assent.
"Not easily at all."
Nine nodded, sagely.
"Nothing easy is ever worth doing."
427 looked at him, perplexed.
"...Staying alive?"
Nine looked at him for a few seconds. The silence stretched until it became awkward. Then:
"BWAHAHAHA! It's my first time teaching, so I tried to be wise! Guess I messed that up, huh?" He scratched the back of his head as he laughed.
If this was really an anime, I'd be falling flat on my face right now. 427 thought, wryly.
Nine stood up.
"Well, I won't keep you from your oh-so-important musings. Training starts day after tomorrow. I'll find you."
With that final note, he strode out of the tent, without waiting for a response.
If the training is as hard as I think it's going to be, I think I have my solution to making myself more uncomfortable.
---
The hours passed quietly. 427 reviewed his battles. Then he did it again. And again. And again. What else was there for him to do?
He thought about the time where the clone beside him got shot, instead of him. All due to sheer, random chance.
He stopped, and thought about it again.
Now that I think about it, why'd his head explode like that?
He remembered the head popping like a balloon - but in the chaos, he hadn't processed how unusual that was.
A sniper? With a more powerful gun?
But he didn't recall seeing anything like that, or even seeing it happen again.
Shrugging his shoulders, he cast it out of his mind. Still, a lingering trace of unease stayed behind.
He had bigger things to think about. Specifically, a set of coincidences that seemed to be repeatedly saving his life.
What the hell are these… reactions when I fight?
It all started on his first mission, the village. He had planted a grenade in the wall, and had no clue when it would go off. All of a sudden, he gets a cramp right as it explodes?
Again, when he tried opening the cabinets the kids were hiding in, and he stumbled right before the knife swung towards his head?
He couldn't remember any other times it happened, but he was sure it did.
He felt his heart thud with excitement. A thought, almost blasphemous to him, echoed in his mind:
Could it be… observation haki?
He tempered his expectations. This was unlike any observation haki he remembered from the series.
From what he remembered, it couldn't sense actions or things without conscious intent.
Where the hell was the conscious intent in a grenade? One that I pulled the pin on?
He racked his brain, but couldn't recall sensing anything like intent in the second situation either. He just… stumbled.
A series of coincidences?
He sighed with disappointment.
My dreams of haki will have to wait, I suppose.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. They uncasted his hands to let him eat - Thank god I didn't have some buff ass clone feeding me - and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
The next day was somehow even more excruciatingly boring. There was only so much you could think about.
Ughh… What the hell do I do?
Eventually, he decided to try meditating.
Every reincarnation story protagonist has the craziest mind palace or whatever set up. Although, I think that's more Harry Potter stories than anything.
After an hour it was abundantly clear:
He would NOT be making a mind palace.
If that was even possible at all.
Still, it was a unique experience. He concentrated on breathing through his nose, feeling the air on the top of his lips. Every time he'd realize he was thinking about something else, he would refocus on the breathing.
He didn't know if it helped with anything, but it was a good way to pass the time. Relaxing too.
Maybe I'll do that more often.
"What are you doing?"
All the relaxation evaporated in an instant, as his eyes flew open.
Damn it! Again?
He looked to his right to see 341, sitting on the same stool.
"Meditating."
"Meditating?"
"It's like a concentration exercise."
341 tilted his head.
"Interesting."
"Yeah."
Neither of them spoke. The silence grew awkward.
What do I even say? This is so awkward for no reason.
341 looked forward, deep in thought. His mouth opened and closed, as if he wanted to say or ask something, but couldn't. Eventually, he just settled on saying:
"I'm glad you're alive."
Without waiting for a response, he awkwardly got up from the stool, and stiffly walked away. 427 watched him leave. A realization came to his mind.
Dude, watching 341 and Nine interact is going to be hilarious.
---
427 couldn't wait to get the cast off of him. His entire body had been itching, nonstop.
The moment the doctors cut it off, he scratched vigorously.
"Ahh…"
Blissful.
Then, he froze.
Damn, I reek!
The first course of action? Get a shower.
Then? Train.