This entrance… this power… this visual effect…
Perfect! Absolutely perfect!
If I, Aaron Kael, had to judge it, I'd call it a flawless performance—a show-stopping debut worthy of every stage in the Grand Line.
I glanced around, my heart beating fast. I wondered if any World Government News Coo-birds happened to be nearby. If they caught this moment on camera, would my very first battle be recorded for the world to see? Would I—Kael—finally get my very own wanted poster?
I could almost see the bold black letters now:
> "Aaron Kael" — Bounty: 1,000,000 Berries!
Hmm… no, scratch that. It should be at least a million. A flat million felt almost insulting for my level of style. Two million, maybe three! And of course, the picture had to be perfect—preferably the one where I was striding across the waves just now, looking like a pirate straight out of a legend.
I was still lost in my beautiful daydream of fame and glory when Roger's voice—deep, booming, and utterly incapable of subtlety—shattered the atmosphere like a cannonball to the gut.
> "Kuhahaha! Kael! Well done! Come back, it's time for a banquet!"
Reluctantly, I smacked my lips, still wanting more action, but the water beneath my feet rippled, and with a light hop, I vaulted back onto the deck.
---
A Feast Under the Stars
Night fell, and the deck came alive with warmth. A bonfire crackled merrily, casting orange light over the three of us. The firelight danced over the mast, glinted off the polished wood of the deck, and wrapped the night in a cozy glow. Several skewers of fatty grilled meat sizzled over the flames, releasing a heavenly aroma that curled through the air and mixed with the faint scent of the sea.
Roger and Rayleigh sat close to the fire, wine glasses in hand. They clinked them together with a dull, satisfying thud.
> "To our future great pirate—Kael's first successful battle! Cheers!" Roger laughed heartily and tipped his glass back, draining his rum in one go.
I grinned, raising my own wooden cup, about to join the toast—when Rayleigh's arm smoothly intercepted mine.
I blinked, confused, then glanced down. My cup… contained orange juice. A rich, sunny orange, sending up a sweet, citrus fragrance.
> "Minors are prohibited from drinking alcohol," Rayleigh said matter-of-factly, pushing his glasses up with one finger. His tone was calm, but there was steel behind it.
My smile froze mid-toast.
> "But…"
Roger slapped his knee and laughed so loud the fire crackled louder in sympathy.
> "Kuhahaha! Kids should drink juice!"
He topped off his own glass with rum, smirking at my plight like he'd just witnessed the greatest comedic act in the world.
I glared, then stubbornly chugged half my orange juice in one go. Fine! I would drink my citrus in dignified defiance. It was good for preventing scurvy anyway!
---
Three rounds of drinks (two for them, three for me… juice) and five servings of grilled meat later, I lay sprawled on a wooden crate, patting my overstuffed belly and letting out a satisfied burp. The night air was warm, the stars glittered above, and everything seemed perfect—until I made the mistake of looking out toward the sea.
There, bobbing on the gentle waves, floated the scattered wreckage of our enemies' ships. The sight poked a hole straight through my food coma.
A sudden thought hit me, grim and heavy.
> "Damn Captain…" I groaned.
"It seems… we lost out."
Roger, in the middle of drinking straight from a wine barrel like it was a water flask, paused mid-gulp.
> "Huh?"
> "I smashed their ships," I explained, my tone pained. "Which means… all the Berries, treasure, food—basically everything—sank to the bottom of the sea. We fought for half a day… and got nothing."
Roger's eyes widened slightly. He set down the barrel, pulled out a toothpick, then slapped his thigh so loudly the sound echoed across the deck.
> "You're right!"
Rayleigh, sitting nearby, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He'd clearly accepted long ago that this was the kind of logic he'd have to live with on this ship.
Roger suddenly leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
> "Kuhahaha! Little Kael, you've got good ideas! But money's a small matter! Your performance today was great—but still has room for improvement!"
I perked up a little despite myself.
> "Improvement?"
He raised one finger and wiggled it at me.
> "Your attack was flashy, but the power wasn't condensed enough! If you could add that… your power could double!"
My brain lagged a second.
> "That?"
Roger grinned like a man about to reveal the secret to the universe.
> "Haki! Armament Haki! Come on, I'll teach you right now! I'll show you what real power looks like!"
---
Roger's "Lesson"
Armament Haki. The standard for any true powerhouse in the New World. My heart jumped, my tiredness forgotten in an instant. I sprang to my feet, eyes shining like a kid at his first fireworks festival.
Rayleigh, however, did not look nearly as excited. He eyed Roger—whose cheeks were flushed from the rum—and the look behind his glasses screamed danger. He opened his mouth like he might protest, but in the end, he simply sighed, shook his head, and wisely took a few steps back.
Roger planted his feet wide, taking a horse stance, and inhaled deeply.
> "Watch closely, little Kael! Armament Haki… is like this—"
Black metallic sheen coated his fist in an instant, like someone had dipped it in molten steel and let it harden. Without hesitation, he drove it forward… directly into the hull of our own ship.
Hup!
Crack—Splish!
The sound made my teeth ache. Time seemed to pause. Then—whoosh!—a column of cold seawater burst inward like a liquid battering ram.
Roger froze, staring at the large, very real hole he had just punched through the ship. His drunken flush faded by half, replaced with a blank, slowly dawning realization.
I, meanwhile, went from awe to horror so fast I swore my soul almost left my body. My pupils shrank, my jaw dropped, and my entire expression twisted into something between shock and existential despair—the kind of look immortalized in that painting, The Scream.
> "You damn Captain—ahhhhhhh!"
I dropped to my knees and scrambled toward the hole, cold seawater splashing over my hands.
> "The ship's going to sink! We're done for!"
I tried to press my palms over the breach, but the incoming water blasted through with unstoppable force.
> "Ahaha… purely an accident…" Roger offered weakly, scratching the back of his head.
> "Accident your head! Who uses their own ship as a training dummy?!"
---
Emergency Repairs
The water kept gushing in, faster and faster. My mind raced. Then—a flash of inspiration.
I slammed both hands against the wood surrounding the hole.
> "Boba Fruit ability—activate! GET BACK… for me!"
Vibrations pulsed out from my palms, rattling the planks with a high-frequency tremor. The seawater fought back, but the shockwave repelled it, forcing it into a warped, temporary "wave barrier" that bulged outward from the hull.
Not stopping there, I gathered my strength, cupped my hands, and seized control of the water that had already made it inside. With a grunt, I hurled it back out through the hole in a single powerful stream.
By the time I finished, my shirt clung to me with sweat, and my breathing came in short bursts. The flood had stopped—for now—but the hole was still there, and it wouldn't take long before the sea found its way back in.
> "Hey! Rayleigh!" I shouted toward the mast.
"Stop watching the show! Get something to patch this up!"
Rayleigh exhaled slowly, set down his glass with a resigned air, and moved off to search for tools and planks. The look on his face practically said, I knew this would happen.
Roger, on the other hand, finally broke into helpless, roaring laughter.
> "Kuhahahahaha! Little Kael! You—hah—you were so funny just now!"
> "Laugh your damn ass off later! HELP!"
---
In the end, it took all three of us fumbling together to cobble together a patch. Several planks and far too many nails later, the leak slowed to a mere drip.
Exhausted, I collapsed on the damp deck like a washed-up fish, staring blankly at the glittering stars. The laughter from earlier had died away, leaving only the rhythmic lap of waves and the creak of patched wood.
I exhaled. My dreams of fame felt far away now.
Was it still too late… to get off this ship?
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