Rei reached the shore before the sun fully rose.
Mist still clung low to the rocks, rolling gently with the tide. The jungle behind him breathed softly, its sounds muted by distance. Ahead stretched the open sea, calm and wide, reflecting pale light that slowly pushed away the night.
He stood there without moving.
For the first time since arriving on the island, Rei felt no urgency to train. His body remained ready, balanced, responsive, yet his attention turned outward rather than inward. The island had shaped him enough. What remained now lay beyond the horizon.
He walked along the shoreline at an unhurried pace, letting the rhythm of waves replace the rhythm of breath. Sand shifted underfoot, mixed with smooth stones polished by water. Fragments of driftwood lay scattered where storms had left them behind.
Rei's gaze moved methodically.
Habit guided him more than intent.
That was when something felt wrong.
Not dangerous.
threatening.
Simply wrong.
He stopped.
Near a cluster of rocks, partially concealed by seaweed and damp sand, rested a fruit unlike anything the island should have produced. Its skin carried spiraling patterns that twisted inward endlessly, unnatural in their symmetry. The color shifted subtly under light, as if the surface responded to attention rather than sun.
A Devil Fruit.
Rei crouched and studied it carefully.
He did not touch it immediately.
Devil Fruits rarely appeared without consequence. Some fell from ships lost at sea. Others drifted across currents for weeks before reaching land. Their arrival never followed intention.
He reached out slowly and lifted it.
The weight felt ordinary. The presence did not.
"Mori Mori no Mi," Rei said softly.
The name settled naturally in his mind, accompanied by understanding rather than excitement. A fruit connected to growth and vegetation. Control over living plant matter. A power that could reshape terrain and battlefield alike.
Strong fruit.
Dangerous fruit.
Rei turned it slightly in his hands, examining the stem, the texture, the unnatural resilience beneath his fingers. He imagined what eating it would bring. Immediate change. New senses. New reach.
Imagined what it would take away.
Eyes drifted toward the sea.
The water lay close. Only a few steps separated him from it. Calm now, but always capable of turning hostile. Swimming remained one of his few reliable means of escape. Even a crude boat required the ability to survive sudden immersion.
Eating the fruit here would trap him.
Not physically.
Strategically.
"I do not rush decisions that shape the rest of my life," he said quietly.
He wrapped the fruit carefully, securing it in cloth scavenged from the abandoned camp long ago. The bundle went into his pack, placed where it would remain safe and untouched.
"Later," Rei said.
The word carried certainty rather than hesitation.
He sat on a smooth rock overlooking the water and allowed time to pass.
Thoughts surfaced naturally.
This island had served its purpose. Six months of isolation and pressure had forged control, endurance, and clarity. His swordsmanship had moved beyond the framework of his previous world. His breathing methods adapted perfectly to a growing body. The system worked silently, ensuring effort stacked without loss.
What the island could offer had diminished.
The world beyond it demanded structure of a different kind.
Rei considered pirates first.
Freedom. Chaos. Constant conflict. Growth through survival and theft. Many strong individuals walked that path, sharpening themselves through danger alone.
Rei saw the limits clearly.
Pirates trained through repetition born of necessity rather than refinement. Their strength came unevenly. Progress relied on circumstance as much as will.
The Marines offered something else.
Consistency.
Infrastructure.
Knowledge.
Training designed to produce reliable strength rather than lucky outliers.
Rei had lived long enough to value systems that worked.
Marine training focused on fundamentals first. Conditioning. Discipline. Team coordination. Technique refined under supervision before being tested under fire. Failures corrected rather than ignored.
And at the center of that structure stood Zephyr.
An instructor whose reputation extended across generations. A man who broke recruits without cruelty and rebuilt them stronger without shortcuts. Legends credited him for their foundations long before they earned titles.
Training under Zephyr meant flaws would surface immediately.
That appealed to Rei.
"I will join the Marines," he said quietly.
The decision came without hesitation.
Not for ideology.
For training.
The Marines offered the best environment to push his limits openly, with resources unavailable anywhere else. He could observe strong individuals up close. Measure himself properly. Learn without revealing everything he carried.
Piracy could wait.
Preparation began at once.
Rei returned inland, moving through familiar paths without nostalgia. He gathered what he needed methodically. The sword remained essential. The Devil Fruit stayed untouched and secured. Supplies remained minimal.
Near a stretch of rocky shore farther down the coast, he found what he had noticed weeks earlier but ignored until now.
A small boat.
Its hull showed age and neglect. Barnacles clung to the underside. The wood creaked when shifted. It had likely belonged to traders who abandoned it once repairs became inconvenient.
Rei tested it carefully.
Boat floated.
He spent the remainder of the day repairing it as best he could. Reinforcing weak points with scavenged materials. Sealing cracks with resin and fiber. Adjusting balance to reduce drag.
By dusk, it stood ready.
Rei stood beside it and looked back once toward the jungle.
The island remained silent.
He felt no attachment.
Stepped into the boat and pushed off.
Water accepted him smoothly.
The island began to recede.
The journey lasted days.
The sea tested patience rather than strength. Calm mornings shifted into rough afternoons. Rei maintained balance through technique rather than force. Breathing regulated fatigue. Awareness extended outward constantly.
When storms arrived, he adapted rather than fought them. He secured the boat and waited, conserving energy. When currents shifted, he adjusted course slowly rather than resisting.
Swimming remained his safety.
He never once considered eating the fruit.
Eventually, land appeared.
A Marine outpost rose from the horizon, its structure unmistakable. Clean lines. Orderly docks.
Rei guided the boat toward shore and disembarked without ceremony.
No one paid him immediate attention.
That suited him.
The Marine base moved with controlled efficiency.
Recruits trained openly on designated grounds. Officers observed from elevated positions. Logistics flowed without interruption. Everything carried structure.
Rei approached the registration desk calmly.
"I wish to enlist," he said.
The officer glanced up, eyes pausing briefly on Rei's age and condition.
"Name?"
"Rei."
"Background?"
"None," Rei replied honestly.
The officer studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"Training grounds are that way. You will be evaluated."
Rei stepped away without comment.
Evaluation came quickly.
Physical tests followed standard structure. Endurance. Strength. Balance. Coordination. Rei performed each task with controlled precision. He avoided standing out unnecessarily, maintaining results that exceeded average without approaching extremes.
Observers took note.
One instructor frowned slightly as Rei completed a conditioning exercise without visible strain.
"Interesting," the man muttered.
Rei said nothing.
By evening, Rei received temporary assignment among new recruits.
He sat quietly among them, observing.
Most carried ambition without direction. Some sought justice. Others sought escape. A few chased power blindly.
Rei listened and learned.
When night came, he lay on his bunk and stared at the ceiling.
The Marines would provide structure.
Zephyr would provide refinement.
The fruit would wait.
Everything aligned.
Rei closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, training would begin.