Hancock left after breakfast without ceremony, her footsteps fading across the deck until only the sea remained. The ship felt quieter once she was gone, emptier in a way Ren hadn't noticed while she was there.
Ren stood beneath the open sky, bare feet planted firmly on the deck, shoulders loose and breath steady. He closed his eyes and focused inward, imagining the Nimbus not as a summon, but as balance made visible.
A faint warmth gathered beneath his feet.
Slowly, hesitantly, an orange-red cloud formed below him. It wavered like a newborn flame, unstable but real, responding to intent rather than force.
Ren opened his eyes and shifted his stance as the Nimbus dipped.
"So it works in human form too," he muttered.
Maintaining it demanded constant focus, like holding a thought without blinking. He stepped forward carefully, practicing basic footwork while keeping the cloud intact beneath him.
Every movement threatened collapse.
Minutes stretched into hours as sweat formed along his neck and back. His breathing settled into rhythm, muscles loosening as the Nimbus stopped trembling and began responding more naturally.
When he felt ready, Ren reached up and plucked a strand of his hair.
It hardened instantly, twisting and extending into a familiar staff. The moment it finished forming, the Nimbus shuddered violently and dissolved, dropping him back onto the deck.
Ren exhaled sharply and rubbed his shoulder.
"So splitting concentration destabilizes it," he said quietly.
He tried again.
This time the Nimbus formed thinner, weaker, barely supporting his weight. He didn't rush, lifting the staff slowly and beginning controlled swings.
The cloud flickered but didn't vanish.
Hours passed unnoticed.
By midafternoon, the Nimbus no longer collapsed outright. It destabilized with each movement, but recovered faster every time.
Ren's footwork sharpened. His staff strikes grew smoother. His body adapted instinctively, refining balance rather than forcing it.
When the sun dipped lower, he shifted into his Human-Beast form.
Power surged through him as he leapt from the ship, Nimbus reforming instantly beneath his transformed body. He shot across the Calm Belt like a streak of flame.
Sea Kings rose to challenge him.
They fell quickly.
Staff strikes cracked skulls with precise force. Golden-red flames flared as he devoured them, energy flooding that strange inner space without resistance.
By the time evening approached, twenty… maybe thirty Sea Kings were gone.
Ren returned to the ship, muscles humming with stored power. He resumed practice immediately, alternating between human and beast-human forms, refining transitions and tightening movement.
Only when darkness crept across the sea did he finally stop.
After washing salt and sweat from his body, Ren entered the kitchen and began preparing dinner. His hands moved with practiced ease, mind drifting as he worked.
Halfway through, he paused.
A faint, inexplicable feeling tugged at him. Ren frowned, then sighed and added extra portions to the pot.
"Just in case," he muttered.
If she came, he wouldn't be able to refuse. Her ship. Her kitchen. Her ingredients. The logic annoyed him, even as he accepted it.
Right on cue—
"Hmmm. Looks like the food is ready."
Ren didn't turn.
Hancock leaned into the doorway, eyes immediately flicking to the extra dishes. Her smile curved, unmistakably pleased.
"Are you expecting guests?" she asked lightly.
Ren glanced at her.
"Well," he said flatly, "aren't you here?"
Her smile didn't fade.
"Oh? I only came to inform you that the strongest Kuja Haki users will begin training you tomorrow."
She stepped inside, eyes gleaming.
"And here I thought you were planning to eat with this Empress. How bold."
Ren stared at her, mind stalling for a heartbeat.
Why did I trust that feeling? he thought grimly. I'm not some protagonist with women showing up for meals.
He inhaled slowly and replied, "No problem. I can eat several Sea Kings. One extra portion won't kill me."
Hancock's smile sharpened.
"Well, since it's already prepared, wasting it would be a shame."
She took a seat without waiting.
Ren screamed internally.
You shameless woman. You were absolutely here for the food.
If this was just a message, you'd have sent someone.
He plated the dishes in silence and set one in front of her before sitting down himself. His eyes lingered longer than intended.
She noticed.
It didn't bother her.
Hancock ate calmly, watching his irritation simmer beneath a carefully neutral expression.
This is far more entertaining than expected, she thought.
Ren ate mechanically at first, irritation dulling his appetite. Then his gaze drifted, unbidden, tracing her posture.
She wasn't wearing the exaggerated outfit he remembered from stories. The cheongsam was still red, still slit high, still marked with the Kuja emblem—but tailored differently.
Elegant. Controlled. Powerful.
Not the caricature he'd expected.
This one… he thought slowly, this one's better.
He stiffened immediately.
No. Stop. Why am I thinking about her?
Focus on literally anything else.
But it was hard.
There was something dangerous about her presence. Not just power, but the way she filled space effortlessly, watching him without shame or restraint.
Ren swallowed.
How is one woman this lethal to my mental stability?
I fought Sea Kings all day, and this is worse.
Across from him, Hancock sensed no lust in his gaze. Only conflict, embarrassment, and reluctant admiration.
She smiled to herself.
This, she decided, could become very interesting.
---