Chapter 51: The Seeds
Marine Headquarters - Training Ground - Afternoon
The sun beat down on the wide training ground, the air thick with the smell of dust, sweat, and metal.
"CLANG!"
A blade and a burst of fire collided, sending a shockwave of sparks across the field!
In the center of the ring, Ace's fist was wreathed in blue-white flame, while Law's sword, "Kikoku," coated in Armament Haki, cut cleanly through the air.
"Fire Fist!"
"ROOM: Amputate!"
The searing heat and the cold, spatial energy met mid-air, causing a violent tremor that cracked the ground.
"Hah... hah..." Ace wiped the sweat from his face, his expression ecstatic. "Now this is a real fight!"
"You're too loud," Law replied, his voice calm, but his eyes were more focused than ever as his "ROOM" expanded.
"Whoa...!"
The crowd of Marines backed away, their faces filled with shock.
"Those two kids... their combat power is already at an officer's level, isn't it?"
"That fire temperature is making the rocks at the edge of the field glow red!"
"And Law's 'ROOM' is so stable! He can keep expanding it in the middle of a fight!"
On the sidelines, Garp was sitting cross-legged in the sand, "training" Luffy (now 7) by... well, mostly just hitting him.
"Your fists need to be faster! Where's your Haki?! Use your Haki!"
"OWWW! Grandpa! That hurts!" Luffy yelled, running around and holding his head, though he could never dodge Garp's "Fist of Love."
"Bwahahaha! This is nothing!" Garp laughed. "Back in the day, your dad and your Big Bro Roy took way worse hits than this!"
Luffy's wails were so loud they were starting to distract Ace.
"Luffy! Will you shut up?!" Ace roared, his concentration breaking. In that instant, Law used his ability to wrong-foot him, forcing him back three steps.
"You shouldn't let your mind wander in a fight," Law said, his voice low.
Ace gritted his teeth, his flames erupting as he charged back in.
Just then, a familiar shadow fell over the field.
Roy, his hands in his pockets, walked onto the grounds, his gaze sweeping over the scene. He paused when he saw a familiar figure leaning against a tree in the shade.
It was Kuzan (Aokiji).
He was slouched against the trunk, his coat half-drawn over him, an eye-mask covering his eyes, seemingly asleep. But Roy knew he was watching.
"Kuzan," Roy said quietly, walking over. "What brings you to the training grounds?"
Kuzan lifted his mask, revealing one deep, calm eye. "Ara rara... Roy. Just passing by."
He watched Ace and Law for a few seconds, then said, "Are you... sure this is a good idea? Raising him like this?"
Roy knew who he meant.
He looked at the boy wreathed in flames. "Ace is a good kid," Roy said softly. "He shouldn't be defined by his bloodline. He's not the one who's wrong. The world that would condemn him... that's what's wrong."
The words hit Kuzan like a physical blow. He lowered his gaze, his mind flashing back to the fires of Ohara... to Saul's defiant, frozen smile.
"You..." Kuzan said, his voice low, "you've really got guts, kid. Do you have any idea what you're challenging?"
"Of course I do," Roy said with a calm smile. "But if we're not here to break those rotten systems, then what's the point of being a Marine?"
Kuzan didn't answer. He just let out a low, dry laugh. He looked at the children, at their pure, unrestrained power, and for a moment, he wasn't sure what he himself was fighting for—or what he was running from.
"I'm leaving," he said, brushing the dust off his coat.
"See you around, Kuzan," Roy said, watching him go.
Kuzan's steps faltered for just a fraction of a second, but he didn't look back. He just gave a small wave, his long shadow stretching out behind him.
"Still on the fence, huh... my senior?" Roy thought. "Well... that's fine. The future is still a long way off."
He turned back to the field. Ace's flames were burning brighter, Law's spatial cuts were sharper, and Luffy's wails were now somehow louder than Garp's laughter.
Under the sun, the Marine flag snapped in the wind. Here, new seeds of fire were being nurtured.
East Blue - Goa Kingdom - Night
In the wealthy High Town, the lights were bright. In the distance, the Gray Terminal was a dark, festering sore.
A small, thin figure was running for his life through the heaps of trash and ruined shacks. It was Sabo, a fresh bruise on his forehead.
"The burning... they're going to burn the 'trash'... they're going to kill everyone..."
His fists were white, his steps unsteady, but he didn't stop. He had to warn them.
But as he reached the dividing line, two guards blocked his path, shoving him back.
"Get lost! Trash isn't allowed near High Town!"
Sabo was kicked, and he fell into the mud. He tried to get up—
Suddenly, an unnatural gust of wind blew past. The guards froze, their eyes going blank as their rifles slipped from their hands.
Sabo stared.
A tall figure in a green, tattered cloak stepped out of the shadows.
He walked over to Sabo and knelt, looking at the small, mud-covered, furious child.
"The burning plan... what did you say?" Monkey D. Dragon's voice was deep, weary from a thousand battles.
Sabo's eyes trembled. "They're going to burn... everyone in the Terminal... just because the Celestial Dragons are coming..."
His voice cracked, turning into a scream. "They're going to kill them... just because the Celestial Dragons think this place is 'dirty'!"
He was sobbing now, his voice full of hate. "I hate this world! I hate being a noble! I hate having their blood!"
He finally collapsed, unconscious, into Dragon's arms.
Dragon held him, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were turbulent.
"So... this is the one."
He thought back to the private letter he had received from Marineford, weeks ago.
"In the Goa Kingdom, in the East Blue, there is a noble's son named Sabo. If you are looking for a seed to carry the will of the revolution, I suggest you take a look."
It was signed: Roy.
Dragon had kept the letter. This Marine Rear Admiral... he was no simple soldier. Several of the Revolutionary Army's most successful new strategies—the concept of autonomous revolutionary zones, cell-based infiltration—had come from "casual" suggestions Roy had made years ago.
He had trusted Roy's intel then. He would trust it now.
He held Sabo, his cloak shielding him from the wind. "...I will teach you how to tear this world down."
The next morning.
Sabo woke up in his own soft bed. His father, Outlook III, stood over him, his face like stone.
"Stop this foolishness. The Celestial Dragon, Saint Charlos, will be here today. You will attend the ceremony as my son!"
Sabo's eyes were dead. "This world... is hopeless."
Noon, at the port.
Sabo had managed to sneak away and steal a small fishing boat. He rowed frantically.
"Freedom..." he whispered. "I want to be free!"
But just as he was clearing the harbor, a massive, opulent ship sailed in. On its bow stood Saint Charlos, in his bubble helmet.
"Hmm? That little boat is unsightly," Charlos said, his voice nasal. "Sink it."
"Yes, holy one."
BOOM!
The cannon-fire vaporized the small boat, blasting Sabo into the cold sea.
As he sank, a green-cloaked figure (Dragon) moved like a storm across the water, snatching him from the depths.
In the Goa Kingdom, the nobles were raising their champagne glasses, making polite, false murmurs about the "unfortunate accident" at sea.
No one noticed as a gust of wind left the kingdom, carrying with it the seed of freedom.
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