And so, in the days that followed, Aos poured most of his training into building his physique,
and while he couldn't compare to those "two-hundred-times-the-work" prodigies,
whether it was sniping, swordplay, or close-quarters, he could learn at twice the speed of a Shanks-tier genius—monster material by any measure,
so bringing his body and Haki online early mattered more than anything.
Time flashed by,
two months had passed since he left home, and Aos's days were full yet uneventful,
just after dawn, Buggy and Shanks yanked him up to clean the ship—since Captain Roger's bounty ticked up again last night, the crew threw yet another, another, another banquet.
Everyone drank themselves happy—except the so-called "Three Scoundrels under the King."
F*ck!
Who doesn't get mentally exhausted from partying every single day, huh!
Faced with this pack of hot-blooded knuckleheads—and Roger, whose temperament was a bit like Luffy's—Aos was helpless too,
not that he didn't want in; it's just that the so-called rum tasted awful. Aos, who wasn't a drinker, couldn't appreciate it.
This wasn't the roaring, high-octane Pirate King voyage he'd imagined; aside from the occasional squall, thunderstorm, hail, or hurricane, there was none of that so-called thrilling adventure,
Turns out the grand voyage of the Pirate King is basically a gentleman's club for top-tier bruisers.
They cleaned up till almost lunchtime before Aos and the others finally finished with the bottles and scraps,
about to shovel down a mountain of food before training,
when suddenly, Aos seemed to sense something. He froze and snapped his gaze to the distant sky,
Something was flying in!
Aos heard it first through Observation,
Buggy ran to the rail, squinted, and realized it looked like a cannonball!
Holy crap!
He looked out farther and spotted a white sail cresting the horizon,
Who the hell throws a cannonball from that far?
A missile?
Aos had a hunch who it was,
and without bothering to shout a warning—under Shanks and Buggy's tense stares—he whipped the long gun off his back and sighted the speck overhead,
and at the same time, Captain Roger's figure had somehow appeared at the prow, watching Aos take aim.
"Brat, that guy's shells are fast. Can you hit it?"
Roger bared his teeth in a grin, watching Aos fine-tune his aim,
Who do you think you're underestimating?
Maybe I can't beat him, but I can sure as hell shoot a cannonball!
Aos curled his lip, center dot on the speck, Observation assisting,
"Got it!"
In his Observation, the shell was tagged by his bullet a few dozen meters off the hull, drilled straight into the sphere's dead center,
except…
it hit, but didn't really hit.
To Aos's disbelief, the shell didn't detonate midair as expected; it batted his bullet aside like nothing and kept falling along its original track,
…great, this shell's a freak!
No—this is definitely a Haki-coated shell!
Seeing he couldn't do a thing, Aos holstered the gun and backed up behind Buggy and Shanks,
not panicking—if the sky fell, the tall ones would hold it up. It wasn't the three runts' turn yet.
Sure enough,
"Divine Departure!!!"
With Roger's thundered shout, a slash wreathed in black-and-crimson lightning tore across the sky,
as if the heavens themselves might split!
Beyond the one Aos had targeted, several shells following behind erupted midair before they could fall.
Aos was dazzled by that overwhelming strike,
sure, the anime made the move look wild, but seeing it live was something else entirely,
A single slash that cleaves the sky?
Divine Departure—yeah, that's one to learn!
Scalp tingling, drool nearly spilling, he used Observation to trace every motion as Roger unleashed it,
but maybe he was just too green—he could only feel a mighty power coursing in Roger's body; the finer points eluded him,
which left Aos regretful,
maybe like how the Sharingan can't copy forbidden techniques—your level's too low to paste it in.
Before he could dwell on it, Shanks and Buggy dragged him back behind the swarm of rushing crewmates,
"Hahahahaha!!! Lads, time to face the Navy!" Roger drew his blade, laughing,
"That mad dog—we finally shook him, and he's on us again in under two months?" tank-top Gaban growled, twin axes in hand.
"Let's send a greeting of our own," Rayleigh was far more direct—a single swing and a colossal blade of air split the sea,
which, as Aos expected, did nothing—an ebony fist from the battleship punched it apart!
Quick on his feet, Aos scrambled up to the lookout and waved at his sniper mentor. "Yo, Uncle Bittam!"
Bittam was hefty, but his reactions weren't slow. Seeing Aos climb up too, he chuckled: "Oh, it's you. Be careful—this time it's not small fry."
"I'll take care of myself," Aos smiled, then peered through his scope at a figure on the distant warship,
a short-haired, bearded hulk in a Vice Admiral's coat over a black suit, hefting a few shells in one hand,
the very shells that had stymied Aos earlier—thrown by hand.
If you asked Aos, cannons these days are pathetic—automatic can't even beat manual.
"Figures—that's the king's 'special' for you…"
"Oi, oi! You hear me, Roger? Surrender quietly!"
From far off, Garp was barking through a giant loudhailer.
"Hahahahaha, that won't do, Garp!"
Roger answered with a grin, and the two old rivals started trading long-distance banter.
A bromance-soaked classic opening volley.
What followed was the usual chase and trading of Conqueror-coated blows,
with so many heavy hitters on Roger's side and so much mobility, one Garp wasn't realistically netting them all,
and Roger and company weren't about to slug it out at sea with that hard bone to gnaw,
because if even a little advanced Conqueror's leaked out on both sides, you'd have ships wrecked, bodies intact—and everyone swimming to the next island.
Every now and then, some overconfident Marine would Moonwalk (Geppo) toward the Oro Jackson—only to be swatted into the drink by Rayleigh and the others, or get ambushed by Aos's sniper fire,
and among these hotheaded Marines, Aos's scope picked out an unusual figure,
a curly-haired beanpole.
"Oi, oi—this guy sneaking in among regular Marines? He's up to no good."
If Aos didn't recognize him, this youngster might've slipped by,
but an Ice-Ice Fruit user edging toward their ship? However you spin it, that's bad news.
Quietly, he pulled out the one and only Seastone round he'd sweet-talked out of Bittam, took aim, and a grin tugged at his lips,
a little welcome gift, then,
for the young "Sea-Ice"—Kuzan.