"Kid, that's no way to hold a sword!"
Roger stood with his hands on his hips, staring at Reith with an expression of utter hopelessness.
Reith was gripping a massive two-handed wooden sword almost as tall as he was. The tip dragged along the deck, scraping with a long shhh— sound.
"But big swords are cool!" Reith protested.
"One swing and both the enemy and their ship get blown away!"
In Reith's mind, real men wielded big swords.
Roger rubbed his forehead.
"…You're four years old. Do you want to launch yourself into the air with that thing?"
Rayleigh, lazily sipping sake nearby, added without looking up,
"You'd need terrifying physical strength to use a heavy sword properly. If you insist on this path, you'll have to double your strength training."
Roger fell silent.
Gaban burst out laughing.
"Let him try! If he falls, it'll hurt—good lesson. And when he swings and gets flung away with the sword—ha-ha-ha!"
Reith shot him an indignant glare.
"Brother Gaban, just wait. When I master it, you'll be the first one I cut down!"
"Alright," Gaban grinned, patting the axes at his waist. "I'll be waiting."
Roger sighed deeply and handed Reith his own sword.
"First things first. Learn how to hold a sword properly. Try this."
Reith took it, swung it a few times, then frowned.
"…Too light. No feeling at all."
Roger stared at him.
"You don't even know the basics, and you're already chasing giant swords?"
"But only big swords look impressive!" Reith argued.
"Those legendary swordsmen—didn't they wipe out armies with massive blades?"
Rayleigh adjusted his glasses.
"The 'legendary swordsmen' you're thinking of mostly exist in stories. Every real master has their own Meitō, and none of them are oversized slabs of iron."
Reith: "..."
Roger sighed again.
"Fine. Then we start simple."
He raised a finger.
"One thousand swings."
Reith: "?????"
None of that really mattered.
Two years passed in the blink of an eye.
What mattered was that the Roger Pirates—now four members strong—still didn't have a proper ship. That was unacceptable.
Over those two years, Reith trained relentlessly, practicing swings day after day with his wooden sword.
They survived by hunting pirates and occasionally clashing with Marine ships. Pirates were killed without mercy; Marines, when necessary. Every coin was taken..
By the age of six, Reith—the once snot-nosed brat—was actively applying to join battles.
"Captain," Reith said calmly, leaning against the railing and idly playing with mist swirling around his fingers. His scarlet eyes fixed on the pirate flag in the distance. "That ship is perfect for our next target."
"The Bloodaxe Pirates. Total bounty: forty-seven million beli."
Roger slammed the helm and laughed.
"Ku-ha-ha-ha! Little Reith is starting to look like a real pirate!"
Rayleigh adjusted his glasses.
"The estimate is accurate. This haul will bring us close to enough for a proper ship. If we're buying one, it has to be top-tier. Two hundred million should be sufficient."
(At that time, currency inflation hadn't gone wild—two hundred million beli could buy a lot.)
Gaban's grin widened, axes flashing coldly.
"Finally. Some decent loot."
Reith casually adjusted his cuffs as white mist drifted around him.
"Shall I prepare the battlefield?"
"No."
All three answered at once.
Reith blinked.
"Huh? Why all of a sudden?"
Roger slung an arm around his shoulders.
"Kid, today's a test."
Rayleigh smiled faintly.
"No abilities. No elemental tricks. You've already proven you don't rely solely on your Devil Fruit. Let's see your swordsmanship—only swordsmanship."
Gaban lifted an axe.
"If you embarrass yourself…"
"Five hundred extra push-ups," Reith finished calmly.
He drew his oversized wooden sword with a flourish. Armament Haki briefly coated the blade, then faded.
"Gentlemen," he said with a confident smile, "watch closely. My performance begins now."
As their boat drew near, the Bloodaxe Pirates burst into laughter.
"Four idiots want to rob us? And there's even a brat dressed like some noble!"
"Black hair, white clothes… could it be the Mist-Mist Fruit? Add a bit of fog and—damn, that's an unreal look!"
Reith liked that very much.
Stepping through the mist, he leapt lightly onto the enemy deck. The wooden sword spun lazily in his palm.
"Gentlemen," he said politely, stopping the blade three cun from a pirate's nose, "allow me to correct two things."
"First—we're here for the bounty."
He sidestepped a saber slash and struck the pirate's throat with the wooden sword.
"And second…"
"Just because I dress well doesn't mean I can't send you all to hell."
The pirate collapsed, weapon clattering to the deck.
"Excellent Observation Haki," Rayleigh commented calmly from nearby combat.
Reith moved like drifting fog across the deck, each strike clean and forceful, his sword whistling through the air.
Three pirates charged him at once.
Reith dipped low, blade sweeping in a crescent.
"Misty Moon: Three Stars in a Row."
Three pirates dropped, clutching their throats.
"Nice!" Gaban shouted. "But too flashy!"
"You just don't get it," Reith laughed.
"Looking cool is essential—"
His eyes suddenly sharpened.
Clang!
He blocked a massive axe flying at his back.
Captain Bloodaxe loomed behind him, face twisted with rage.
"You little—"
"Shh."
Reith raised a finger to his lips. Scarlet light flickered in his eyes.
"You're too loud."
If this were a real fight, Reith thought, the fog would already be eating you alive.
But his captain had forbidden abilities.
So he swung.
No technique. No flourish.
Just raw strength.
The wooden sword, coated in Busoshoku Haki, crashed down.
The axe shattered.
Captain Bloodaxe's massive body slammed onto the deck—lifeless.
Reith had already turned away, sheathing his sword and brushing imaginary dust from his clothes.
Today felt perfect.
Three future legends—the very peak of the world—had watched him fight.
What could be cooler?
Gaban suddenly looked up from counting the money.
"We've got it! Enough beli!"
Reith froze—then bolted over at full speed.
Finally. Their own ship.
South Blue Marine Branch.
Captain Groce stared at the freshly delivered bounty posters, veins bulging on his forehead.
"'Straw Hat' Roger—two hundred million beli…"
"'Dark King' Rayleigh—one hundred and fifty million…"
"'Ax Emperor' Gaban—ninety-eight million…"
"'Foggy Ghost' Reith—fifty million…"
"These lunatics!" Groce slammed the posters onto the desk.
"Their bounties tripled in three months! How many crews? How many warships have they robbed?!"
The adjutant swallowed.
"R-reporting, Captain… confirmed seventeen."
Groce exhaled sharply.
"Doesn't matter. Headquarters already dispatched a Vice Admiral."
"They won't run for long. Keep tracking them."
World Economy News Agency — Morgans
"EXTRA! EXTRA!"
"Is the endless sea about to witness the rise of its own king?!"