427 found himself waking up a bit earlier than four.
"Waking up" is a strong phrase.
He sat up in bed, trying to force his bleary eyes open. It didn't work. Stumbling around half asleep in the dark, he pulled on some fresh training clothes and went to the bathroom.
The bright lights stung his eyes, and the cold water he splashed on his face finally made him conscious.
Am I really going to have to do this from now on?
He consoled himself by thinking it was like investing. Lots of effort now to relax later! Like the lie parents tell their kids about college. After all, did Luffy ever train while out at sea?
Then again, trying to act like Luffy is a good way to get yourself killed.
He walked outside. The moon and stars provided some slight illumination. They had merged back with the main fleet sometime overnight, so they would presumably be using Nine's private training grounds.
A rustling noise sounded out. He looked to his left to see 341 shambling out of the barracks. With the barely lit dock, and his elongated proportions, it looked like something out of a horror movie.
427 held back a shudder.
"He-y"
Seriously? An early morning voice crack?
He coughed a few times to clear his throat. 341 didn't bother responding verbally. He just nodded.
At four on the dot, Nine showed up. He didn't waste time on elaborate introductions.
"Let's go."
And go they did. Unlike what 427 was expecting, they walked past the practice town, out towards the edges of the snail flotilla.
Along the border were patches of artificial forest. Nine headed towards a specific one. Without any signs, he randomly spoke up.
"The trees are set up to obscure outside views, but there are still cameras inside."
What a bizarre statement to lead with, 427 thought.
Nine paused for a minute, as if he was trying to remember something.
"Oh yeah. Make sure you don't go to any other private training grounds."
So multiple clones have private training grounds? 427 filed that thought away for later.
They walked through the "woods." It was a strange experience for 427. After all, where could he have seen a forest with lawn grass covering the ground? The lack of noise was off putting as well.
The training grounds themselves were rather basic. Weights, a track, a sparring ring, and some other general areas. Not as impressive as 427 was hoping.
There was one thing that piqued his interest though. The "forest" surrounding the training grounds didn't look like it had any cameras. He would have to check over multiple walks, but if it didn't?
Then it would be the solution to his privacy problem.
The physical workout proceeded as usual, nothing new there. Lunch was the same slop and jerky.
Wonder why 341 insisted on getting it from the bag himself this time?
Shrugging, he meandered back to the training grounds. The gleaming new training equipment was lined up all neatly, a far cry from the disheveled appearance of the common grounds.
Nine stood in the training ground, clearly waiting. They made eye contact.
"Right, brat. Let's test your claw techniques today."
What is this? A pokemon battle? Except this time I'm not making eye contact with youngster Joey.
"Sir, yes sir," 427 replied casually, grabbing the gauntlets from the weapons rack. 341 had considerately sent them in for repairs while he was in the hospital.
He stepped into the ring. The gravel crunched underneath his feet.
I do NOT want to fall on this stuff.
He could already imagine the surface burns he would get.
Squaring up, he faced Nine.
The sun, mostly blocked by the trees, illuminated little clouds of dust from the ground where it broke through.
Nine's rough voice broke the silence:
"The hell you waiting for? An invitation?"
The beatdown that followed was legendary.
---
"Right, so here's the problem as I see it." Nine started his lecture, as 427 sat cross legged, face swollen like a balloon.
"You haven't fully broken those ingrained habits. The moves that should be flowing smoothly are stilted. You haven't put any effort into mastering them either. The only one that shows any sign of effort is that Fish-man block you do. The rest? Pathetic."
The ceaseless barrage of disparaging comments came. 427 could only nod his swollen head up and down.
Wasn't he impressed yesterday?? What changed?
He zoned back in to hear Nine continue:
"... clearly, it's too soon for you to develop more advanced moves. Take a few months to spar and practice, then we'll talk."
A few months?? Damn it, I wanna be cool now!
Crunching footsteps sounded from the trees. 427 looked over to see 341 walk out of the woods, then abruptly stop. 341 looked back.
Upon seeing his swollen face, he made an abrupt 180 degree turn to head back into the woods.
"Where do you think you're going?"
341 froze.
His beatdown was somehow even worse.
---
A few days later
The training was going as well as could be expected. Sometimes 427 wondered if Nine saw them as lumps of iron, to be beaten into shape.
Still, he couldn't deny the effectiveness. His lifts, which had been stalling in weight, were steadily increasing again. His moves felt smoother in sparring too.
Instead of just slashing at a dummy, Nine had made him do more targeted exercises. Repeating specific stabs for a whole day, redoing certain movements while correcting small mistakes. It was a sobering realization of how much went into mastering even the smallest move.
Nine had taught him how to add more kicks into his rhythm as well.
"You've got strong legs from all that weighted running you do. Might as well use em," he had said.
It was an avenue of combat that 427 was kicking himself for not thinking of.
No pun intended.
After all, wasn't a famous ex-Germa prince known for those? The course of development was right in front of him.
Of course, it's probably in part due to his latent genetic enhancements.
Queen from the Beast Pirates had once seen the move and asked if it was due to Germa's enhancements. Sanji had responded with some bullshit about "burning passion."
Of course, 427 couldn't rule out that it did have something to do with passion, considering the absolute bizarro shit people did in this world. Still, he was more inclined to believe Queen, a man who had worked alongside Judge in M.A.D.S.
In terms of more achievable kicking techniques, there was one in that Fish-Man karate handbook, wasn't there?
There was. Gedan-Geri, a flurry of rapid low kicks. 427 couldn't remember ever seeing it in the series, but it wasn't like he had photographic memory.
I really need to learn the rest of the moves in that book.
They didn't really mesh with the style he had in mind - Flowing Water, Crushing Rock - but 427 wasn't talented enough to create a martial art from nothing. They would at least provide a base to work with.
As for 341, 427 had no clue how he was training firearms. Nine had given him a leave of absence for part of the physical training in the morning, so it presumably occurred then. Not that he supervised the physical training anymore.
After all, if we can't even train on our own, then what's the point?
341's aptitude with the knife wasn't bad either. 427 sparred against him a few times, and while it wasn't difficult in the slightest, it was still a pleasant surprise.
Speaking of physical activity, they had just completed that portion of the day. In fact, 427 was on his way back right now.
As he walked, he stretched his arms behind his back, thinking. A few days had given him the time to collect his thoughts on some topics that were bothering him.
From the first moment he had heard Nine had private training grounds, he was bewildered. Regardless of how strong Nine was, or services he had rendered, Judge would always consider him another "individually worthless" clone.
After all, this is the man who killed his wife, and abandoned a son in search of more power. What does he care about a single soldier?
Then, the odd statement Nine led with when he was walking them over for the first time. The one about the cameras in the training ground.
Why was that necessary to bring up? No one ever talks about the cameras.
They were always present, always watching, but not a single soul ever mentioned them.
The real scrape of nails on the blackboard were the training grounds themselves. They were fancy, well maintained, and new.
That's the kicker. New.
There was no sign of wear on the weights, the track had no disturbed gravel, and the fighting ring didn't have scrapes or dried blood spatter, nothing. Not only that, none of the weights were actually at a level to challenge Nine.
It was less like his private training grounds, and more like a new facility put together for him and 341.
Occam's razor says the simplest answer is usually the most likely.
In this case, the simplest answer was that he was being observed.
Like a science experiment.
He wasn't sure when it had started. Was it from the very beginning? Was that why Nine had approached them in the first place?
He doubted they had found anything of substance, but it wasn't like the scientists needed evidence to pull a random clone in and dissect them.
Or whatever it is they do to them.
He shrugged his shoulders, munching on jerky. He wasn't sure if it was the near-death experience, or if he was just growing more accustomed to where he was, but he was surprisingly calm.
Let's assume they are observing me. What can I even do in that case?
Running away at this point was a pipe dream. He was weak, had no idea how to navigate other than a few basic manuals he had read, and had no ship off this snail.
He might as well take advantage of the specialized training and resources they were giving them.
Not only that, Nine had indirectly warned them about the cameras when they were entering the training grounds. That meant he had at least some measure of goodwill for the two of them.
Hopefully.
It was presumably because of whoever 427 reminded him of. Regardless of how gross it felt, 427 would be a fool to not take advantage of that.
I'm not even acting, so there's nothing to really feel bad about at all.
With his decision to not do anything rash made, he continued back to the training field, presumably to continue getting his ass beat.