I woke up early, today more careful with breakfast than usual. Pancakes, stacked neatly, syrup drizzled. A chilled bottle of champagne set aside for the evening.
It was Dr. Martinez's birthday. Seventy-seven. He liked the number, said it was lucky. His plan was simple: casino after breakfast, party at home after.
Last month was my birthday. I barely mentioned it, but he remembered. Invited Issho, bought me new clothes and shoes, even ordered pizza. That had stuck with me. So today, I wanted to repay him properly.
After we ate, Martinez left for the casino. I stayed behind to tidy the house and prepare for tonight. Then it was time for my real morning ritual. Training.
Issho was waiting for me at the clearing.
"Alright, Reed," he said, his tone calm but serious. "I want to see how you fare with your eyes open before we go deeper into Observation Haki."
I nodded, drawing my knife. It wasn't much—just my regular blade, sharp enough for chores but not enough to threaten him. Still, it felt right in my hand.
We squared off. His sword stayed sheathed at his waist, but I knew that meant nothing.
I lunged first, aiming for his chest with a thrust. Metal rang out as he unsheathed in a blink, deflecting the strike. His counter came instantly—an overhead slash. I ducked under, spun, and threw my left fist toward his jaw.
He only smiled, stepping back with fluid ease before charging forward himself.
This time, I met his blade with mine. The clash rattled my arm. I focused too much on the sword, though—I never saw his foot coming. His kick slammed into my abdomen, knocking me to the ground. By the time I looked up, his blade hovered at my neck.
"I yield," I said quickly.
Issho's expression softened. He offered me his hand. "Color me impressed, Reed. I knew your body was disciplined, but those knife drills taught you more than I expected."
I took his hand, pulling myself up. "Thank you. I've just… put a lot of time into it."
"Hah! Keep this up and you'll surpass me someday." He gave a short laugh. "Now get ready—we're doing it again."
We kept sparring until the lesson ended. By the time we walked back toward the city together, sweat was dripping down my neck and every muscle burned. Final score: 67–0. Fujitora, of course.
Still, I'd earned every bruise.
That evening, the house filled with voices. Including me, there were ten people crowded around the table. Every one of them was past seventy—except me and Issho. It didn't matter. Seeing Martinez grinning, surrounded by friends, was worth it.
By midnight, the others had shuffled home, leaving just the three of us. Martinez and Issho sat in the corner, laughing and rambling like old men. I slipped away to fetch the champagne and three cups.
I poured for each of them, raising my glass. "Doctor. Issho. Before I came to this island, I had no one. Nothing. But you two… you gave me friendship. A place to belong. So tonight, I just want to thank you both—for everything."
For a moment, silence. Then both men smiled and raised their glasses.
"To friendship," Issho said softly.
"To friendship," Martinez echoed.
We clinked cups and drank.
And for the first time since being thrown into this world, I felt almost at peace.