The moon hung low over Windmill Village, pale and watchful.
Inside the bar, silence sat heavier than the barrels stacked behind the counter. Jin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, staring at the rafters as if they might fall and crush the thoughts building in his skull.
Kuma lay on the floor beside him, scratching at a wooden mug he'd mistaken for a training tool.
"…You ever wonder," Jin muttered, "what it's like to live without knowing how to kill?"
Kuma snorted and rolled onto his back.
Jin let a faint grin touch his lips.
"Yeah. Me neither."
It had been two days since Garp offered him a place in the Navy.
He hadn't answered. Not because he needed time to think — no, he already knew what his answer would be. He was just deciding whether it was worth wasting breath on someone so deep in denial.
But something in the old man's eyes had stuck with him. Not fear. Not anger. Just… fatigue. Like a soldier too stubborn to die and too tired to keep swinging.
Maybe I respect him, Jin thought.
Maybe.
That morning, Jin rose before the sun.
The bar was dark and still. He stepped barefoot onto the grass behind the building and dropped into a horse stance. His breath came slow. Deep.
The Standing Meditation wasn't flashy. It didn't make mountains move or lightning crash. But it built something more dangerous — foundation. And in this world of Devil Fruits and sea monsters, foundation was everything.
He stood motionless for hours, letting the breath cycle through him like waves across stone.
Kuma joined him halfway through, wobbling on his hind legs, tongue sticking out in sheer focus.
When the sun finally broke the horizon, Jin exhaled and stepped back.
"Better," he said.
Then he grabbed a thick stick from the pile and tossed it to Kuma.
"Let's try again."
They sparred until their shadows stretched long. Kuma was clumsy but improving fast. Jin made sure of that. He wasn't training a pet. He was building a partner.
By the end, both of them were panting, bruised, and smiling.
Jin picked himself up and reached for the canteen. "You'll be a beast on the seas soon. Just don't eat me first."
Kuma barked a laugh — more like a hiccup with attitude.
Later, inside the bar, Makino was wiping glasses. Her hair was pinned up, but a few strands fell loose, stuck to her cheek with sweat. She looked tired. Happy. Alive.
Jin approached quietly and set a hand on the counter.
"Come upstairs later. I want to review your posture."
She looked up, face flushing pink.
"For the Standing Meditation," he added dryly.
She swatted at him with the towel, barely missing his face. "I know that, idiot."
But she was smiling. The kind of smile that made people want to live longer just to see it again.
That night, they sat together on the second floor. A single lantern glowed between them, casting soft gold across the wooden floor.
Jin adjusted her stance, nudging her shoulder with two fingers. "Straighten your spine. Breathe from below the navel. Imagine roots going down into the earth."
Makino obeyed. Her breathing slowed.
"You're improving," Jin said. "Keep this up and you'll last more than a few minutes in a real fight."
Makino opened one eye. "You think I'll need to fight?"
He stared at her. "If I'm not around… and someone comes for you… what will you do?"
She didn't answer right away.
"…Fight," she whispered finally. "Like hell."
Jin nodded. "Good."
They stayed like that for a while. Just breathing. Not needing words.
Then Jin closed his eyes.
He was back on the battlefield. Again.
Smoke. Screams. The copper sting of blood on his lips. The mercenary camp in flames. His brothers dying one by one.
And above it all — his own laugh. Mad. Wild. Broken.
He jolted awake, heart thudding like a war drum.
Makino was still meditating, unaware.
Still chasing me, he thought. That other life. That abyss.
But not for long.
The next day came too fast.
Jin spent it stocking rations. Reinforcing his pack. Going over route charts. He still didn't have a ship, but that would come. Money would come. Power would grow.
He could feel it — like a storm behind a thin wall. He was close.
Makino helped without speaking much. She knew the silence mattered.
When it was almost dusk, he stepped outside to stretch — and froze.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Rhythmic. Familiar.
He didn't need to turn around.
Vice Admiral Garp was walking straight toward the bar.
Jin exhaled slowly and cracked his knuckles.
"Well," he murmured, eyes narrowing, "looks like the old man came back for his answer."
This story is inspired from various fanfics i have read from around the world so if you find any similarities please dont mind . Thank you
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T/N :
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