Louay lay on his right side, his head resting against the trunk of a tree.
He rolled over unintentionally, lifting his hand—only for it to hit a broken branch protruding from the bark.
"Agh... ngh—"
He woke up to the pain.
It wasn't surprising.
It wasn't new.
It felt like an old visitor—one that didn't bother knocking, just walked in and sat heavily on his body.
He laughed bitterly,
"What a way to wake up... how annoying."
He yawned, propped himself up on his elbows, and remembered—he had to return to the forest. He needed to keep punching that tree until he truly mastered Haki. He frowned and muttered,
"Waking up with pain in both fists... it's like my body is protesting the very idea of continuing."
He sighed and sat on the tree trunk, rubbing his eyes with his wrist.
"The pain wasn't new… but it was the only thing that reminded me I was still alive."
He looked toward the cave's mouth.
The sun wasn't bright, nor was it dim. It was just... there—doing its job, indifferent to everything.
His hands throbbed.
They were wrapped in strips torn from his tattered pants, soaked with dry blood, sweat, and ash.
The leaves he had worn the day before still clung to his body.
"Who knew a man could be humiliated even by trees?"
He stood up silently.
No sigh, no grunt, no words.
Pain was part of the contract now—and he had to pay its price.
His clothes, left by the fire, had nearly dried. He picked them up and made his way to the shore.
Setting them down on the familiar rock,
he stripped the leaves off without a word and walked naked into the sea.
The water was cold—but somehow, it didn't feel that way.
Perhaps because the cold inside was far worse.
He washed his body,
as if trying to scrub away something that wouldn't come off—something invisible.
He unwrapped the blackened strips from his fists and washed them.
His face dripped with water—from nose to chin—highlighting the emotionless expression beneath.
He ran along the shore until the water on his skin had dried.
Returning to the rock, he put on his torn pants and white shirt.
The cloth strips still dangled from his bleeding left hand, just as they did from his right.
Back at the tree trunk he had slept on, he sat and laid the strips beside him.
He picked up the coconuts he had left the night before.
He placed one in front of him, grabbed a rock the size of half a man's head,
gritted his teeth through the pain, and lightly struck the shell several times until it cracked open.
He drank the water inside and ate the soft white flesh.
After finishing all three coconuts,
he headed back into the forest.
As he searched for the tree he had been training on,
memories rushed through his mind—
A time when he didn't wait for results.
He simply moved—like a heart pumping blood—not out of desire, but because it hadn't stopped yet.
He muttered as both eyes finally spotted the giant tree:
"I'm not an optimistic person... but things are different now."
While rewrapping his fists with the damp cloth,
he noticed a large gash in the tree.
"Who did this?"
He looked around for signs of anyone nearby.
"Hmm... doesn't look like anyone's been here."
He paused, then added,
"Doesn't matter. Either way, I've still got work to do. Wasting time won't help me."
Biting down to tighten the knots on his hands,
he assumed a fighting stance—and struck.
Tak!
"Agh!"
He screamed in pain as his arm slackened.
Then he laughed,
"This is going to be annoying... haha. Pain doesn't teach—it just hits you. The one who learns... is the one who insists on standing between the hits."
He punched again—and again.
The pain didn't stop.
But neither did he.
For nearly half an hour, he kept punching the tree.
Blood from his arms sprayed onto his face.
He finally paused, eyes filled with confusion.
"Something's wrong..."
It felt like he had forgotten something he shouldn't have.
He held his chin with his right hand, resting his elbow on the left wrist.
The cold breeze tousled his long hair, swaying it in front of his eyes as he paced back and forth.
'What was it that Luffy was told during his training...?'
Frustrated, Louay ruffled his hair.
"Ahh... if only I had my phone right now."
He tried to refocus, exhaling as he stared at the ground.
'I remember something about using imagination... to form an invisible armor.'
He raised his head.
"Let's give it a shot... maybe it'll work."
He got into position again.
There was a crimson glint in his eyes as he smiled.
Closing them, he began imagining black coating both arms—like a thick, invisible armor.
He stepped forward and punched.
The pain didn't lessen.
He repeated it, again and again.
Each time, the imagined armor would vanish the moment his fist neared the tree.
He sighed and muttered sarcastically,
"What good is imagination... if it can't even stop my hands from breaking?"
He exhaled deeply, lowered his head.
"Maybe it's my fists that are bleeding... but what really hurts is the stupidity in my eyes when I expected a different outcome."
He looked almost... broken.
But then, he lifted his head slightly—
as if reminded of his old self in the original world.
He held his chest, right over his heart, and whispered with a wicked grin:
"Not yet..."
He resumed punching—more wildly than before.
He screamed with each hit.
He imagined the invisible armor—again and again.
After around four hours, he was panting madly.
But this time, it seemed the armor reached the tree just before fading—causing the outer bark to crack.
His clothes were soaked in sweat.
He smiled—then roared—and continued punching without pause, all the way until the sun disappeared behind the horizon.
His punches grew slower, weaker.
Gradually, he began losing consciousness.
His vision blurred.
He clenched his teeth so hard veins bulged across his face.
He screamed and landed one final punch—so strong that birds flew away from the tremor.
It was the last burst of strength he had.
"Damn... this power system..."
he muttered, collapsing face-first onto the dirt—unconscious from sheer exhaustion.
In that moment, time itself seemed to fold.
Everything accelerated—his fall, the earth's tremble, the weight of gravity—
as if the world had pressed fast-forward.
Flash.
"Khhhhh!"
Tak... tak... tak...
CRASH!
He awoke to a whip of thunder tearing through the sky like a blade.
Half his body was drenched from the rain.
"Rain... no, it's more than that."
Thunder interrupted his thoughts.
"It's a storm. A real one."
He leaned on the tree to stand.
His eyes half-lidded, the sky above him roared.
Though dark, the constant lightning lit the scene in flashing bursts.
He raised his head to the heavens.
Thunderclouds blanketed the entire island.
A bolt illuminated his face—
followed by a terrifying roar that shook his chest.
Louay grinned maniacally.
He looked... free.
Free in a way he had never felt before.
"Beautiful..."
His hair, drenched, clung to his face and blocked his sight.
He raised his left hand, brushing it back over his head.
"Round two... this time will be different."
He murmured.
He assumed his stance again.
Closed his eyes.
Imagined the invisible armor—and punched.
'Less pain than before... but the result's the same.'
He analyzed, then continued.
Thunder cracked again—fueling his fire.
The sky went wild.
Louay punched, over and over.
Lightning lit the night.
His cries joined the thunder.
"Break... break... not yet... not yet!"
His imagined Haki became more vivid.
He stomped his right leg, pulled his right arm tight—
Suddenly, it coated in invisible Haki.
He roared and punched.
A lightning bolt struck beside him at the same moment.
DOOOM!
More than half the tree shattered.
Louay panted, grinning.
"Finally... I did it!"
As he collapsed to the ground,
the remaining trunk toppled toward him.
'No—damn it! It's falling on me!'
He sprang up,
raised his left arm—
imagined it coated in that black Haki—
and struck the falling tree before it reached his face.
DOOOM!
The trunk exploded into halves, flying five meters away and crashing into other trees.
Louay dropped onto his back, motionless, laughing.
The rain poured down on him.
---
Elsewhere…
Arlong Park, North of Cocoyashi Village.
The Fishman Pirates were celebrating—they had just extorted 50,000 Berries from the townsfolk.
Each pirate resembled a different kind of fish.
"Humans... I've never seen filthier creatures."
"They're worse than insects. If I were them, I'd rather die than live like that."
Hatchan—an octopus-like fishman with six arms and pink skin—poured him a glass and replied,
"Don't worry. You'll never be in their shoes. Haha!"
"You're right. That's impossible. Hahaha!"
Arlong sat on his throne, facing the pool, holding a massive wine goblet.
His face lit up with each flash of lightning.
He lowered his head and drank the entire goblet in one go.
Wine spilled down his neck.
He hurled the goblet to the floor. It shattered.
He laughed.
"Looks like the sky's angry. YAAAHHHHHH!"
---
Somewhere in the village...
Old Ajir sat on a chair by the window.
A table in front of him held a cup of coffee.
He dropped three sugar cubes in and stirred before sipping.
"Tastes good."
Thunder echoed. Light reflected in the window.
He placed the coffee down, stood, and leaned against the glass.
His expression turned serious.
"I hope that boy doesn't get hurt by this raging storm..."
---
Back at the forest clearing...
Louay couldn't move.
His body refused to rise under the weight of the storm.
"Damn it... my body won't listen..."
He stared up at the raging sky—thunder roaring overhead.
He laughed—mocking himself with a crooked smile.
Then whispered shakily:
"You... you won't hurt me... will you?"
He chuckled again—weak, broken laughter.
Then silence.
Then sleep—beneath the merciless rain.