Kyle and Roger's collision left an invisible mark on the Oro Jackson's deck.
It wasn't a trace carved by blades, but rather a seed called "aspiration" that had been planted deep in the hearts of two little brats.
After the battle ended, the crew went back to drinking and bragging, while Roger was getting his ear twisted by Rayleigh, who scolded him for using "Divine Departure"—a ship-wrecking move—on deck.
Roger stubbornly argued that it wasn't a technique, just a regular basic attack.
The two little guys, Shanks and Buggy, stood on Kyle's left and right, looking up with their small faces and unusually bright eyes.
"Big Bro Kyle!" Shanks spoke first. "That move just now... did the air explode? So cool! Can I learn it too?"
Buggy stared intently at Kyle's naginata leaning against the railing, his mental abacus clicking away.
He wasn't thinking about how cool it was, but rather—if he learned such an awesome technique, wouldn't he be able to skip picking locks when raiding treasure chests? Just one "BOOM!" and the gold coins would fly out by themselves!
"Want to learn?" Kyle wiped the blade's handle without even lifting his eyelids.
"Yes!" Both answered in unison, nodding their heads like garlic pestles.
Kyle finally stopped his movements, turned around, and looked at them with a beaming smile.
His gaze wasn't as passionate and bold as Roger's, nor as gentle and wise as Rayleigh's, but rather like an unfathomably deep ancient well that made the two kids feel inexplicably guilty.
"Why do you want to become stronger?" Kyle asked persuasively.
"I..." Shanks puffed out his chest, practically shouting, "I want to become as strong as Captain Roger! Then go find the world's greatest treasure—no, go on the greatest adventure!"
Kyle nodded and turned his gaze to the other one. "And you?"
Buggy licked his lips and shouted his life's ambition without hesitation: "This great lord will learn the strongest techniques, defeat everyone who gets in my way, steal all the world's treasure, and become the richest pirate!"
Very good! Very spirited!
"Excellent." The corner of Kyle's mouth curved into a barely perceptible arc. "But Roger and Rayleigh won't teach you."
"Eh?" Shanks was stunned.
"The captain will tell you, 'Gu ha ha ha, just do this and then that!' and then drag you off to drink. Rayleigh will lecture you with a bunch of theories you won't understand a single word of." Kyle mimicked their speech patterns perfectly.
Shanks and Buggy looked at each other because Kyle was describing exactly what they'd gotten from their past attempts at hints.
"So, you want me to teach you?"
The two nodded frantically again.
"It is about time... leave it to me!" Kyle agreed with unusual enthusiasm. When things seemed too good to be true, something was usually wrong, which made the two little guys' hearts skip a beat.
"But," his tone shifted, his smile taking on a dangerous edge, "my teaching methods are quite different from theirs."
Kyle's mind flashed to his own appearance when he first boarded the ship. So many tears to tell—back then, he was still so thin... The unreliable Roger and Rayleigh had created an inhumane training regimen, and somehow he'd survived it.
Ah, my lost youth!
Since he'd been rained on, he had to... tear everyone else's umbrellas to shreds!
"Follow me, choose your weapons."
Kyle led them into the ship's armory.
Shanks had almost no hesitation. He walked straight to a row of Western-style swords hanging on the wall and picked up a blade whose length and style were quite similar to Roger's "Ace."
He swung it a couple of times like Roger, his face glowing with admiration.
Oh oh oh, the true inheritor of Roger's legacy!
Buggy wandered around the armory. He found long swords too clunky and axes too barbaric, finally settling his gaze on a row of compact, efficient daggers.
He picked up two and weighed them in his hands, his face showing a satisfied smile.
Daggers were easy to conceal and quick to strike—whether for sneak attacks or threatening hostages, they were much more convenient than those big weapons.
Oh oh oh, truly worthy of being a cunning... *cough cough*!
"Made your choices?" Kyle confirmed.
"Mm!"
"Very good." Kyle nodded. "Starting tomorrow, your training officially begins."
Shanks and Buggy exchanged glances, both seeing burning flames in each other's eyes.
They thought they'd be receiving cool sword instruction and flashy technique tutorials.
However, reality slapped them hard in the face.
The next day, before dawn had even broken, while the two little guys were still dreaming of becoming world-class fighters, a tooth-grindingly sharp humming sound rang directly in their ears.
It wasn't loud, but rather a brain-piercing resonance. What! The left brain is attacking the right brain!
"Who is it!" Buggy covered his head and angrily jumped out of bed.
Shanks also groggily opened his eyes to see Kyle standing before their beds, looking at them with an eerie expression.
"Heh heh heh, five minutes to assemble on deck. One second late and today's training doubles~" After saying this, Kyle turned and left, leaving two half-awake kids confused in the wind.
When they stumbled onto the deck, they weren't greeted with sword techniques but Kyle's ice-cold words.
"Hmm... run around the deck a hundred times to warm up!"
How can a 98.6-degree mouth speak such cold words!
"One... one hundred laps?!" Buggy's eyes nearly popped out. "That'll kill us!"
Kyle extended one finger and gave it a light flick.
"Whooom—"
An imperceptible shockwave precisely hit Buggy's rear, sending him charging forward uncontrollably like he'd been kicked.
"Ah! My butt!"
Seeing this, Shanks didn't dare delay and immediately started running on his short legs.
Thus, the Oro Jackson's morning featured a peculiar sight: two kids running desperately around the spacious deck.
Meanwhile, their "head instructor," Kyle, leisurely sat in a deck chair under the mast, holding a glass of orange juice and occasionally flicking his finger at Buggy whenever he slowed down.
"Bastard Kyle! This is child abuse!" Buggy cried as he ran.
Another stronger shockwave answered him.
"Ha ha ha ha ha, I said the same thing to Roger back in the day, and he responded with Divine Departure! Having energy to yell means you haven't hit your limit yet!"
"Wuu wuu wuu... Shanks, slow down a bit..."
"Can't do it, Buggy! If we stop, we'll get our butts smacked!"
Crew members gradually emerged from the cabin, laughing at the familiar sight.
Scopper Gaban walked over to Kyle: "You really have the heart to do this to them—they're so young."
"So what? The sea won't go easy on them just because they're kids." Kyle sipped his orange juice and said flatly, "Besides, this is how I came up."
After a hundred laps, the two little guys were exhausted like dehydrated salted fish, collapsed motionless on deck without even the strength to curse.
They thought it was over.
"Five-minute break." Kyle glanced at an hourglass. "Then, fifty frog jumps back and forth!"
"..."
"One hundred push-ups—no food until you finish!"
"..."
"Go lift the ship's anchor and hold it for ten minutes!"
"..."
Throughout the entire day, Shanks and Buggy experienced the darkest day of their short lives.
Kyle used practical action to perfectly demonstrate what "inhuman cruelty" meant, using his elusive Wave-Wave Fruit abilities to ensure they couldn't slack off.
By evening, when the sun sank below the horizon, the two little guys were finally allowed to rest.
Kyle: Be grateful! Back in my day, nighttime was Devil Fruit ability training time!
They collapsed in dining hall chairs, their hands trembling even while holding spoons.
Buggy ate with tears in his eyes, glaring viciously at Kyle—who was playing chess with Rayleigh nearby—with every bite.
Shanks ate quietly. Though his body was exhausted to the limit, his eyes showed no dimness but rather gained a toughness that hadn't been there before.
He could feel something within his small body struggling to break through the soil of painful cries.
"How do you feel?" Roger came over with a large plate of roast meat and casually sat between them.
"Kyle... is a demon!" Buggy mumbled his accusation.
Rather than sympathizing, Roger burst out laughing: "Gu ha ha ha! This is nothing! It doesn't even compare to the special training regimen Rayleigh and I designed for him back then!"
He grabbed the biggest piece of meat and stuffed it into Shanks' mouth, patting his head: "Kid, catching up to my back won't be easy! If you can't handle this little bit of suffering, what adventure are you talking about!"
Shanks chewed the meat forcefully, as if chewing through today's pain and exhaustion. He looked up at Roger and nodded firmly.
Kyle appeared focused on his chess game, but from the corner of his eye, he kept watching those two little brats.
He moved a piece to put Rayleigh in check, picked up his orange juice, and said softly: "Tomorrow morning, weighted running."
In the distance, Buggy's spoon clattered as it fell into his plate.
"Nooo~~" (Snowflakes falling~ north wind howling~)