Night had fallen over the endless ocean, and the waves rolled restlessly beneath the ship's battered hull.
Inside the cramped cabin, Kyle lay sprawled in his hammock like a shipwreck survivor, bandages wrapping much of his upper body. His face still bore faint bruises—memories of recent "training sessions" with the Captain and First Mate—but despite that, the corners of his mouth curled upward in a ridiculous, dreamy smile.
In his dream, he stood atop a sprawling golden palace that gleamed in the sun like a second sun itself. In his hands was a black-gold naginata, its blade etched with flowing patterns that shimmered like rippling water.
Ahead of him, an entire Marine fleet stretched across the horizon, warships lined like chess pieces awaiting the decisive strike. At the head of the formation stood a Marine Admiral, his gaze solemn, his uniform immaculate.
Kyle didn't hesitate. He swung his naginata in one smooth, godlike arc—
—And the entire sea split apart like torn cloth. Towering waves rose in an instant, their thunderous roar drowning out the screams of the sailors. The fleet was swallowed whole by the raging ocean.
Then came the spoils: countless treasures glinting under the sunlight, golden mountains spilling across the palace steps. From every direction, stunning women in lavish dresses rushed toward him. He sat on a gilded throne, grinning with the ease of a man who had conquered the world, accepting the kneeling allegiance of the strongest warriors alive.
"Kekekekekeke…"
A strange, self-satisfied cackle escaped his throat, loud and abrupt in the otherwise silent cabin.
Rayleigh, leaning lazily against the doorway while methodically wiping his sword, froze mid-polish. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This kid… he couldn't even rest like a normal person in his sleep.
Shaking his head, Rayleigh quietly slipped out of the cabin, leaving Kyle to his ridiculous dream.
---
On deck, moonlight spilled like liquid silver across the restless water. The sea's surface glittered in broken fragments of light, and the ship's old timbers creaked under the steady rocking of the waves.
Roger sat alone at the bow, leaning back against the figurehead with one leg bent and a bottle of rum in hand. He tilted his head back and took a deep gulp, the salty breeze whipping through his messy hair.
"Did he bother you?" Roger asked without turning, a grin in his voice.
"Not really." Rayleigh walked over and dropped into the spot beside him, resting his sword across his lap. "Just some kid cackling like a villain the whole time."
"Kuhahaha! His dream must be a good one!" Roger took another swig before lowering the bottle. "Speaking of which—you saw that move of his this afternoon, right?"
"Mhm." Rayleigh pushed his glasses up his nose, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Good idea, and good timing too."
"More than just good!" Roger's eyes lit up with the fierce spark of a born warrior. He held up his hand, pinching his index finger and thumb together until only a sliver of space remained. "That hit actually made me feel a tiny bit of threat. About this much! Kuhahaha!"
Rayleigh's gaze sharpened. After a thoughtful pause, he spoke. "It's not just his strength. Roger… have you noticed something odd about him lately?"
Roger arched a brow. "Oh? What's odd?"
"At first, Kyle relied purely on his senses and instinct to dodge. But this past week…" Rayleigh leaned back, eyes narrowing as he recalled the recent training sessions. "His evasions have become… unbelievable. I've thrown wooden planks, you've thrown fish, sometimes from completely opposite angles, both arriving at the exact same moment—yet he always slips away at the last possible instant, using the least effort." He paused, voice dropping slightly. "Could it be…"
Roger's grin faltered for a heartbeat. He stayed silent, letting the idea roll around in his head—then suddenly slapped his thigh and burst into booming laughter.
"Kuhahahahaha! So that's it! Observation Haki!"
He'd noticed it too, of course. He just didn't bother analyzing the way Rayleigh did. His instincts told him everything he needed to know—and those instincts told him that within Kyle, something rare and dangerous was waking up.
"That kid probably hasn't realized it himself yet," Rayleigh said with a knowing smile.
"It's more fun when he doesn't know! Kuhahaha!" Roger tipped the last drop of rum into his mouth and flung the empty bottle into the dark water.
He spread his arms wide, breathing in the salt-heavy wind like it was the very essence of freedom itself.
Rayleigh glanced sideways at his eternally high-spirited captain and couldn't help a soft chuckle. "Truly… we picked up an incredible monster."
Roger's laughter rolled out across the night, loud enough to startle a few distant seabirds.
---
Thump!
A muffled crash echoed from below deck. Kyle had rolled out of his hammock in his sleep. His groggy voice floated up through the floorboards.
"Damn Captain! What's so funny?! My dream was just getting good, you jerk!"
"Kuhahahahaha!"
---
My name is Kyle, and I am a student.
False Master Tutoring: Rayleigh — skilled in the art of misleading students.
True Master Tutoring: Ku-Hahaha — one hit, flowing cherry; two hits, Haki coating; three hits, Fruit Awakening; Four Emperors before breakfast.
Back in his past life, the fans used to joke about it online. Now that he was here in the flesh, Kyle wasn't so sure the memes were entirely accurate… though he had to admit, young Rayleigh wasn't a bad teacher at all.
Probably. Maybe. …Cough.
Kyle had no shame about clinging to Roger and Rayleigh's coattails. If being a "second-generation powerhouse" was wrong, then he didn't want to be right.
What he wanted now was simple: some unlucky idiot to attack their ship so he could finally test himself. Unfortunately, their vessel was in such pitiful condition that most pirates probably thought they were broke.
No, more than broke—they probably thought they'd lose money robbing them.
Still, having Emperor-level fighters as your "starter companions" was nothing short of absurd.
Bang!
Roger's fist landed on Kyle's head out of nowhere, leaving a lump the size of a pigeon egg.
"Damn Captain! What was that for?!"
Wuwuwu… I'm going to report him for child abuse.
"Kuhahaha! Come chase me!"
Roger darted away, and Kyle's eyes blazed like a cornered cat's. He launched himself after the man, the two of them darting around the deck in a ridiculous game of tag.
Rayleigh rubbed his temples and sighed. The future was… exhausting.
---
The days blurred together.
Voyaging was romantic in theory—sunsets over the horizon, wind in the sails, the promise of adventure—but in reality, it was also an endless stretch of saltwater and waiting.
Since leaving the nameless island, they'd been at sea for almost two months. Nothing had happened. No thrilling battles, no sudden storms, no legendary treasure maps—just the occasional Sea King that Roger would swat away with a casual slash.
Kyle lay at the bow, staring at the horizon until his eyes felt dry. "Ah! Ocean, you're all water!"
To amuse himself, he lifted a finger and coaxed a small swirl of air to life at its tip. The breeze snaked up the mast, ruffling the sails before diving down to mess with Rayleigh's hair.
Rayleigh looked up over the top of his book, eyes cool as ice. Try that again, and you're skipping dinner.
Kyle quickly retracted his hand and coughed into his fist, pretending nothing had happened.
His training had gone beyond physical endurance. Now he worked on control. The Boba Fruit's powers could be delicate as well as destructive, and he'd learned to create tiny currents of air—like his move [Breeze at Dawn]—which could fill the sails on a calm day… or keep Roger cool when he lazed about on deck.
"Little Kyle! Over here—cooler!" Roger called, sprawled like a sunbaked lizard with a drumstick in hand.
Kyle grumbled but obliged, sending a refreshing wind his way.
---
Under the relentless drills from Roger and Rayleigh, Kyle's body had grown leaner, stronger, faster. His abilities with the Boba Fruit had expanded beyond the simple [Shock Punch].
Still, he felt like a sword kept in its scabbard—tempered and ready, but untested in a real fight.
"Ah—I'm so bored!" He threw his arms toward the sky. "Anything! Marines, pirates, even a meteor—just give me something!"
"Kuhahaha! The kid's got spirit!" Roger tossed the bone of his finished drumstick into the sea and stood in one smooth motion. "How about another round of 'Loving Feeding'?"
Kyle stiffened. "No. Absolutely not."
---
Rayleigh closed his book. "You two… we have guests."
Both heads snapped toward him.
"Northeast, three o'clock. A three-masted ship, closing fast. Pirate flag."
Kyle's boredom vanished like mist in the wind.
Finally.
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