Chapter 2
The morning mist clung to the bamboo groves of Shimotsuki Village like a protective shroud, muffling the sounds of the waking world. For most of the students at the Isshin Dojo, this was the time for sluggish yawns and the reluctant transition from warm futons to the cold wooden floor. But for Aryan, sitting cross-legged on the weathered roof of the dojo, it was the moment of his first great ascent.
Raphael, he called out mentally, his voice steady despite the burgeoning excitement in his chest. It has been exactly three years since my arrival. One thousand and ninety-five days of patience. Is the system ready for the bulk sign-in?
Aryan took a deep breath, feeling the cool salt air of the East Blue fill his small lungs. Execute.
A cascade of golden and violet light seemed to explode within Aryan's mind, though to the outside world, he remained a statue-still toddler bathed in the grey light of dawn.
1. Physical Foundation: "Celestial Body Forging Technique" (Passive).
2. Weapon: "Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi" (Subspace Sealed - Growth Type).
3. Magic/Ability: "Spatial Domination" (Rank: Intermediate).
4. Template Advancement: "The Silver Swordsman" Integration increased to 15%.
5. Consumable: "Spirit-Calming Elixir" x10.
6. Mastery: "Full Proficiency in All Basic Sword Styles of the East Blue".
Aryan gasped as a searing heat rushed through his veins. The "Celestial Body Forging Technique" began to work immediately, restructuring his muscle fibers and reinforcing his bone density. It wasn't the bulky, unnatural growth of a bodybuilder; instead, his frame became lean, whip-like, and possessed a hidden strength that defied his three-year-old appearance. His skin took on a faint, healthy luster, and his senses—already heightened by his Haki seeds—sharpened until he could hear the individual heartbeats of the birds nesting in the eaves.
Raphael, analyze "Spatial Domination."
Aryan stood up, testing his new body. He felt light—impossibly light. He looked at his hands, which were now steady and possessed a grip strength that could likely crush a stone.
"Spatial Storage," he whispered.
A small, shimmering rift opened in the air before him, invisible to any eye not attuned to the spiritual. From within, he felt the resonance of the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi. It was currently in its "Sealed" state, appearing as a simple, elegant chokutō with a plain wooden hilt, but Aryan could feel the dormant power within it—a blade capable of cutting through the very concepts of the world as it grew alongside him.
"Bran! What are you doing up there?!"
Zoro's voice broke his concentration. The green-haired boy was standing in the courtyard below, holding two practice swords and looking up with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.
"Just watching the sun, Ren," Aryan replied. He didn't climb down the ladder. Instead, he simply stepped off the edge of the roof.
Zoro's eyes went wide. "Hey! You'll break your—"
Aryan landed as softly as a feather, his knees barely bending to absorb the impact. He didn't even make a sound upon contact with the dirt. He straightened his gi, looking perfectly composed, a small, charismatic smile playing on his lips.
Zoro blinked, rubbing his eyes. "How did you do that? You didn't even tumble."
"Balance is just a matter of understanding where the world wants you to be," Aryan said, walking past his stunned brother. "Are you ready for the morning session? I believe Master Koshiro mentioned we would be sparring with the older students today."
Zoro's shock immediately shifted to fierce determination. "I'm gonna beat every single one of them! Just you watch! I'll be the one they talk about, not you!"
Aryan chuckled, a sound far too mature for a child. "I hope so, Ren. I truly hope so."
The morning training was brutal. Koshiro, though always smiling, was a strict teacher when it came to the fundamentals. Fifty students lined the courtyard, their wooden swords rising and falling in perfect unison. One! Two! Three!
Aryan moved with a grace that drew every eye. While the other children were sweating and panting, he looked like he was performing a slow, elegant dance. Every swing of his wooden sword was mathematically perfect, a result of Raphael's constant corrections in his ear.
Aryan followed the instructions perfectly. To the senior students, it looked as if he weren't even trying, yet his form was more "correct" than even the most experienced disciples.
"Alright! Sparring time!" Koshiro announced, clapping his hands. "Zoro, you will face Haru. Aryan... you will face Kuina."
A murmur went through the crowd. Kuina was eleven years old, nearly eight years older than Aryan, and the undisputed top student of the dojo. She was already faster and stronger than many adults.
Kuina stepped forward, her dark hair tied back, her expression one of mild boredom. She looked down at Aryan, who barely reached her waist. "Master, are you sure? I don't want to hurt him. He's just a baby."
"He may be small," Koshiro said, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses, "but Aryan has a way of surprising people. Treat him as a warrior, Kuina."
Kuina sighed and raised her sword. "Don't cry if you get a bruise, kid."
Aryan bowed deeply, a gesture of profound respect that seemed to silence the whispers of the other students. "Please, don't hold back, Kuina-nee. It would be an insult to both of us."
The match began.
Kuina moved first. She was a blur of speed, her wooden sword coming down in a sharp, vertical strike meant to end the match instantly. Most three-year-olds would have frozen in fear. Zoro, watching from the side, gripped his own sword so hard his knuckles turned white.
Aryan didn't move until the last possible microsecond.
Aryan didn't just dodge; he flowed. He slipped past Kuina's blade so closely that the wind of her strike ruffled his hair. Before she could recover, he tapped the side of her blade with his own, using her momentum to spin her around.
Kuina stumbled, her eyes wide with shock. She quickly regained her footing, her boredom replaced by a sharp, predatory focus. "You... you're fast."
"The world is large, Kuina," Aryan said softly, his voice carrying that magnetic, charismatic weight. "Speed is just a matter of perspective."
Kuina growled, her competitive spirit ignited. She launched into a flurry of strikes—a sequence known as the 'Falling Petals' style. Her blade seemed to come from four directions at once.
Aryan's eyes narrowed. Within his mind, Raphael was processing thousands of variables.
Aryan's wooden sword became a blur. Clack! Clack-clack! Crack! He met every single one of Kuina's strikes with the exact amount of force needed to deflect them. He wasn't using strength; he was using geometry and timing.
The students watched in stunned silence. A three-year-old was standing toe-to-toe with the dojo's best, and he wasn't even breathing hard.
"Enough!" Kuina yelled, her frustration peaking. She lunged with a powerful thrust, putting all her weight behind it. It was a move that would have knocked the wind out of a grown man.
Aryan saw the opening. He didn't dodge this time. He stepped into her guard, his small body slipping under her outstretched arms. He placed his hand on the hilt of her sword and, with a subtle twist of his wrist and a momentary flare of his Busoshoku Haki (Armament) seed, he neutralized her grip.
Kuina's sword flew from her hands, clattering across the wooden floor.
Aryan stood there, his wooden sword pointed at the ground, his expression calm and serene. The entire dojo was so quiet you could hear the distant lowing of cattle in the village fields.
Kuina stared at her empty hands, then at the small boy in front of her. Her lip trembled. It wasn't just that she had lost; it was that she had been completely outclassed by someone so young. All the things her father said—that a girl could never be the strongest because of physical limits—suddenly felt like a crushing weight. If a three-year-old could do this, what hope did she have?
Aryan saw the shadow crossing her face. He knew this look. This was the despair that led to her eventual "accident." He wouldn't allow it.
He stepped forward and picked up her sword, offering it back to her with both hands, hilt-first.
"You were over-extending because you were trying to prove something to yourself, not because you wanted to hit me," Aryan said, his voice gentle but firm.
Kuina looked up, tears stinging her eyes. "What do you know? You're just... you're a genius! You have what I'll never have!"
"I have nothing that you cannot achieve," Aryan countered, his 'Charismatic Presence' skill flaring, wrapping his words in an aura of undeniable truth. "You think strength is about muscle? Strength is about the will to impose your reality on the world. You have that will, Kuina. You just haven't learned how to breathe with it yet."
Koshiro stepped onto the mat, his expression unreadable. "Aryan. That technique... it wasn't something I taught you."
"I found it in the rhythm of the rain, Master," Aryan lied, his face a mask of innocent wisdom.
Koshiro looked at his youngest student for a long time, then turned to his daughter. "Kuina, go to the house. We will speak later. Aryan... follow me."
In the private meditation room, the scent of sandalwood incense hung heavy in the air. Koshiro sat opposite Aryan, a tea set between them.
"You are not a normal child, Aryan," Koshiro began, pouring a cup of tea. "Your brother, Zoro, is a monster of effort. He will reach the top through sheer, bloody-minded persistence. But you... you are something else entirely. You possess a 'King's Air'."
Aryan didn't flinch. Raphael, should I reveal it?
"I was born with a certain... clarity, Master," Aryan said, taking a sip of the tea. "I see the lines of the world. I see where the air moves and where the spirit hardens."
Koshiro's eyes sharpened behind his glasses. "The 'lines of the world'... you are describing the pinnacle of swordsmanship, Ryuo. To think you have touched it at such an age." He sighed, leaning back. "Aryan, I have a request. I want you to train with Kuina. Not as a student, but as a partner. She is losing her way. She believes her gender is a wall she cannot climb. Show her that the sword does not care who holds it."
"I intended to do so, Master," Aryan replied. "But I have a request of my own."
"And that is?"
"I need access to the village's old records. And... I need a boat. Not now, but in the future. I plan to visit the other islands in the East Blue once I turn seven."
Koshiro chuckled. "Most children ask for toys. You ask for the sea. Very well. If you can help my daughter find her smile again, the records and the boat are yours."
The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of activity. Aryan began his "dual life"—training the basics with the other students during the day to keep up appearances, and honing his true powers in secret at night.
With the Celestial Body Forging Technique, his physical progress was exponential. He began to experiment with Spatial Domination, learning how to "blink" short distances. It was an exhausting ability, draining his stamina quickly, but Raphael was already working on a way to optimize the energy consumption by using his dormant Haki as a fuel source.
But his most important task was Kuina.
One evening, he found her sitting on the steps of the dojo, looking out at the stars. Zoro was nearby, swinging a heavy stone tied to a rope, his face set in a mask of grim determination.
"He never stops, does he?" Kuina asked as Aryan approached.
"Ren? No. He's fueled by the desire to catch up to you," Aryan said, sitting beside her.
"And you?" Kuina looked at him. "What fuels you, Aryan? You're already stronger than me. You're probably stronger than anyone in this village except maybe my father."
Aryan looked at his small, pale hands. "I'm fueled by the fear of being ordinary, Kuina. This world is a storm. If you aren't the one directing the wind, you're the one being blown away. I want to see the Grand Line. I want to see the islands in the sky and the cities under the sea."
Kuina's eyes widened. "Islands in the sky? That's just a myth."
"Is it?" Aryan smiled, and for a moment, Kuina felt as if she were looking at a king rather than a child. "I'll tell you what. Let's make a promise. Not just you and Zoro, but the three of us. We will all become the strongest. We will each hold a title that the world cannot ignore. And when we meet again on the Grand Line, we'll see whose dream was the brightest."
Kuina looked at Zoro, who had stopped his training to listen. The green-haired boy wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned. "I'm in! I'm gonna be the Greatest Swordsman! Aryan can be... I don't know, the King of the World or whatever!"
"And me?" Kuina asked softly.
Aryan stood up, his gaze fixing on her with an intensity that made her heart race. "You will be the Queen of Blades, Kuina. The woman who proved that the sword has no gender, only soul."
Kuina felt a surge of warmth in her chest, a fire that had been nearly extinguished by her father's words. She stood up, her posture straighter than it had been in months. "Alright. It's a promise."
Let's do it, Aryan thought.
Over the next year, the trio became inseparable. Aryan acted as the bridge. He pushed Zoro to his physical limits, helping him refine his "Three Sword Style" with Raphael's analytical insights. To Kuina, he taught the "Silver Swordsman" breathing techniques, a set of exercises he had adapted from his template that focused on internal energy rather than raw muscle.
By the time Aryan was five years old, the three of them were a force of nature.
One afternoon, a strange ship docked at the village harbor. It was a massive vessel with a black sail, and the man who stepped off it carried a massive black blade on his back. His eyes were like those of a hawk, sharp and piercing.
Dracule Mihawk.
The man had come to the East Blue out of boredom, following rumors of a "Dojo of the Sword" that produced interesting students.
As Mihawk walked through the village, he stopped at the gates of the Isshin Dojo. He felt a presence—a ripple in the air that shouldn't exist in a place as peaceful as the East Blue. He looked toward the training field and saw three children.
One was a green-haired boy lifting weights that would crush an adult.
One was a girl whose movements were as fluid and sharp as a mountain stream.
And in the center sat a young boy with grey eyes, surrounded by a faint, silver aura.
The boy looked up, his eyes meeting Mihawk's.
Aryan didn't flinch. He didn't show fear. Instead, he stood up and bowed politely. "Welcome to the Isshin Dojo, Sir. Are you here for a match, or are you just passing through?"
Mihawk felt a thrill he hadn't experienced in years. The boy's presence was small, but it was dense. It was the presence of a predator in the making.
"I was just passing through," Mihawk said, his voice like grinding stones. "But it seems I've found something worth watching."
I know, Raphael, Aryan thought, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and caution. This is where the real story begins.
Aryan smiled at the World's Greatest Swordsman. "Then please, stay a while. My brother and I were just about to start our afternoon session. Perhaps you can give us a pointer?"
Mihawk's golden eyes narrowed. He could see the seeds of greatness in all three children, but the boy in front of him... the boy was an enigma. He was a puzzle that Mihawk suddenly felt a desperate urge to solve.
"Very well," Mihawk said, stepping onto the training ground. "Show me what the East Blue calls strength."
The air in the dojo thickened. Zoro and Kuina stood behind Aryan, sensing the immense pressure emanating from the stranger. But with Aryan standing at their lead, they didn't back down.
Aryan reached into his spatial storage, pulling out a simple wooden sword. "Then, excuse our rudeness."
As he took his stance, the silver aura around Aryan flared. He wasn't just a child anymore. He was the Silver Swordsman, the host of Wisdom, and the brother of a legend. And he was ready to show the world that he was coming for the throne.
Status Check:
* Name: Aryan (Bran)
* Age: 5
* Template: The Silver Swordsman (15%)
* New Abilities: Spatial Domination (Intermediate), Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi (Sealed), Celestial Body Forging.
* Haki Progress: Kenbunshoku (10%), Busoshoku (5%), Haoshoku (2% - Passive).