Benimaru and Ryota stood across from each other in the sparring room. Ryota had a lollipop in his mouth, twisting it around casually without a single care in the world. On the other hand, Benimaru was covered in sweat, struggling to breathe properly from exhaustion.
Ryota eyed the tired boy in front of him and sighed internally. He never planned on actually training Benimaru seriously. Honestly, he'd wanted Benimaru to stay as far away from danger and combat as possible. Benimaru was the last family he had left, and the less chance he was near danger, the better Ryota would feel.
But the more he tried to advise Benimaru against going any further, the more persistent the boy became. He didn't want to stop training, didn't want to stop learning. No matter how hard Ryota tried to dissuade him, his efforts were useless. So he'd ultimately decided that training him properly was for the best since at least then Benimaru would have some chance of survival if things went wrong.
But as much to his disappointment, while Benimaru was incredibly persistent, the boy seemed to have zero combat talent whatsoever. Even teaching him just the basics over a month, Benimaru had barely improved. He struggled with grasping new concepts and had to stick to one routine for extended periods before he could even get it halfway decent.
"Come at me with everything you've got," Ryota said, settling into his stance. "Don't hold back."
Benimaru took a breath and exploded forward, his lead foot pushing off hard as he closed the distance. He threw a straight punch aimed at Ryota's chest but Ryota instead angled his body slightly, and the punch sailed past his ribs by inches without him even moving his feet.
Benimaru immediately followed with a left hook, trying to catch Ryota while he was turned. But Ryota ducked under it smoothly, his knees bending just enough to let the strike pass over his head.
Frustrated, Benimaru pressed forward with a combination of jabs, crosses, and low kicks. But Ryota flowed around them like water, with a small sidestep here, and a slight lean there. Every movement was calculated to use the least energy possible but be as effective as possible.
Benimaru tried to sweep Ryota's leg. Ryota lifted his foot just high enough to avoid it and immediately countered with a light palm strike to Benimaru's shoulder that sent him stumbling sideways.
Benimaru caught himself and reset his stance, struggling to breathe harder now. He changed tactics, feinting a high punch before dropping low for a takedown attempt. His hands reached for Ryota's legs—
But Ryota's knee came up, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to stop Benimaru's forward momentum completely. In the same motion, Ryota pushed down on Benimaru's shoulder, using his compromised position against him.
Benimaru hit the mat face-first.
He pushed himself up quickly, scrambling to his feet and charged again, this time mixing in the grappling techniques Ryota had taught him.
He threw a punch to draw Ryota's hands up, then shot in for a clinch. For a brief moment, he actually got his arms around Ryota's waist.
Then Ryota shifted his weight, and broke Benimaru's grip with a simple twist of his hips, and swept Benimaru's legs out from under him. Benimaru crashed onto his back, the air driven from his lungs.
"Get up," Ryota said calmly, not even breathing hard.
Benimaru rolled to his side and stood, his legs shaking slightly. His stomach wound ached from the impact. He tried again, attacking from a different angle, mixing in kicks and punches in combinations that should have created openings.
Ryota blocked a kick with his shin, slipped a punch by moving his head just enough, and countered with a quick jab to Benimaru's ribs that made him gasp. Not enough to injure, but enough to show the opening Benimaru had left.
Benimaru threw a wild overhand right, putting too much into it. Ryota sidestepped and swept Benimaru's front leg just as all his weight came down on it. Benimaru crashed to the floor again, his hands barely catching him in time.
"Again," Ryota ordered.
Benimaru got up, his frustration mounting. He tried to use his footwork to circle Ryota, looking for an angle. He feinted low and went high. He mixed his timing, trying to be unpredictable.
None of it mattered.
Ryota read every attack before it landed, his experience allowing him to see the small tells in Benimaru's movements, the shift of weight, the tensing of muscles, the subtle changes in distance and angle. He barely had to move to make Benimaru miss, and every counter he threw was precise and timed well.
Another combination from Benimaru but Ryota blocked the jab with his forearm, deflected the cross with his palm, he was already out of range when the uppercut came, and checked the low kick with his shin. Then he tapped Benimaru's extended leg with his foot and gave him a light push.
Benimaru stumbled backward and fell onto the mat once more, landing hard on his tailbone.
He lay there for a moment, chest heaving, sweat dripping onto the floor. Every muscle burned. His hands were shaking from exertion and from the soreness from training.
Ryota walked over and extended a hand. Benimaru took it, and his uncle pulled him to his feet.
"You did well," Ryota said.
Benimaru wanted to laugh bitterly at that, but he was too exhausted. "I didn't land a single hit."
"No, you didn't," Ryota agreed honestly. "But a month ago, you wouldn't have known how to even attempt half of what you just did. Your form is getting better for a beginner."
Benimaru nodded and thanked him for the compliment before immediately changing the topic. "So you're leaving for the Grand Line in a week, right?" he said, walking over to a bench and grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off.
Ryota sighed and nodded. "Yeah..." He took the lollipop out of his mouth, and his tone immediately shifted to a deeper one. "Don't worry, like I promised you, I found a base to take you in as a new recruit. It was hard since they already had their slots full, but the captain owed me a favor and agreed to take you in."
Once a year, Marine bases can recruit a new slot of people, typically between ten to thirty recruits or more depending on the base's size, funding, and strategic importance. The recruitment cycle is strictly regulated by Marine Headquarters to maintain quality control and ensure proper resource allocation. Larger bases in more dangerous areas like the Grand Line get higher quotas, while smaller North Blue outposts like the one near Benimaru's island get fewer spots.
"The base I'm sending you to is Branch 58th in the North Blue," Ryota continued, sitting down on the bench beside him. "It's a mid-sized facility, they usually take about fifteen recruits per cycle, but he might have more. The captain there, Captain Kirano, runs a tight base. He's old-school, believes in the fundamentals and basics... Which is exactly what you need."
Ryota looked at his nephew for a brief moment, visibly trying to hold himself back from saying something, but eventually he broke. "Are you sure this is what you want, Benimaru?" he asked again, needing to be absolutely certain.
Benimaru nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I'm very sure..."
"I can take you to Marineford where you'll be safe. I promise you..." Ryota said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
But Benimaru wasn't interested in living at Marineford. He needed to get stronger. He needed to hunt down those fucking pirates and make them pay for what they did.
"I'm fine, uncle. You can stop asking. This is something I'm willing to do," Benimaru said firmly, meeting Ryota's eyes with determination that left no room for argument.
Ryota held his nephew's gaze for a long moment before finally nodding in reluctant acceptance. He sighed heavily, the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders.
He didn't want to leave Benimaru behind, especially not right now. The boy had just lost his entire family, his mother, his stepfather, everyone he'd ever known. Ryota was the only person Benimaru had left in this world and leaving now would only be worse for the boy.
But Ryota also needed to hunt down those pirates. He needed to find whoever was responsible for the raid and bring them to justice. And he couldn't take Benimaru with him while doing that, it would be far too dangerous for someone with barely a month of training.
Part of him wanted to bring Benimaru to the Grand Line, to keep him close where he could watch over him. But even that was too dangerous. He knew what lurked in those waters, There was no telling what might happen there, and Benimaru simply wasn't ready.
So this was the compromise. The marine base would keep him in the North Blue, give him structure and training, and most importantly, keep him away from danger. It wasn't perfect, but it was the best option Ryota had.
"So you're ready to become a Marine like your old man, eh?" Ryota said with a small smile, punching Benimaru lightly in the shoulder.
Benimaru raised an eyebrow. "Yeah..."
It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. Becoming a Marine would give him what he needed and the fastest way to get stronger and start hunting down the pirates that raided his village.
If Ryota wanted to believe it was about following in his father's footsteps and upholding justice, then fine. Let him believe that.
Ryota's smile widened, genuine warmth in his eyes. "Your father would be proud, you know. Daichi too. They both wanted you to find your own path, but I think they'd be happy knowing you chose this one."
Benimaru said nothing. His hand unconsciously touched the origami swan in his pocket.
"I know," Benimaru replied quietly.
Ryota studied his face for a moment, then clapped him on the shoulder again. "Good. We'll dock at the Marine base in a few days. Get yourself ready."
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[A FEW DAYS LATER]
. . . .
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The weather had been perfect for sailing with clear skies, calm seas, and winds that pushed them steadily forward without being too rough. The ocean stretched endlessly in every direction, the water a deep blue that sparkled under the afternoon sun. Seagulls circled overhead, their cries echoing across the deck as marines went about their duties.
Benimaru had spent most of those three days on deck, watching the horizon and folding paper when his hands got restless.
But on the third day, everything changed.
"Land ho!" a lookout called from the crow's nest.
Benimaru pushed himself up from where he'd been sitting and walked to the bow of the ship. At first, all he could see was a dark line on the horizon. But as they drew closer over the next hour, that line grew and grew until it became something massive.
The island was huge.
Even from the deck of Ryota's battleship, which was easily one of the largest vessels Benimaru had ever seen, he couldn't see where the island ended. It just kept going, stretching left and right until it disappeared beyond his view.
As they drew closer, the sheer scope of the island revealed itself.
The harbor was utter heavy ship traffic that never seemed to stop. Massive merchant vessels with sails as tall as buildings were being unloaded by teams of dockworkers, crates stamped with symbols from kingdoms and trading companies across the East Blue. Some cargo was mundane, having barrels of salted fish, lumber, or bags of grain. But other crates were marked with warnings or sealed with elaborate locks, their contents valuable or dangerous enough to warrant armed guards standing watch.
Fishing boats by the dozens came and going in a constant flow, their hulls painted in bright colors with nets still dripping seawater as fishermen shouted prices and haggled with merchants right there on the docks. The smell of fresh catch mixed with salt air and the faint stench of fish guts being cleaned and tossed into the water, where seagulls dove and fought over the scraps.
And then there were the luxury vessels. Ships that looked like they were built more for show than function, their hulls painted white and gold, sails made of fine cloth that probably cost more than an entire fishing boat. Rich merchants and minor nobles lounged on their decks, servants attending to them while they sipped wine and enjoyed the view. Those ships had their own dedicated section of the harbor, kept separate from the working docks like they were too good to mix with common trade.
Scattered throughout the harbor were the smaller Marine patrol boats, sleek, fast vessels designed for quick response rather than heavy combat. They moved in pairs, their crews watching the incoming ships, checking for smugglers or pirates trying to slip in among the legitimate traffic. Every so often, one would break away to intercept a suspicious vessel, orders shouted through speaking trumpets as they moved to inspect cargo and papers.
Benimaru was absolutely stunned, not having expected the sheer size of the island. He'd never left his little island before, he never knew just how massive this world actually was.
'If I remember correctly, doesn't the One Piece world have like twenty million islands...? Just how big is this world? ' he wondered, the thought almost overwhelming. But he shook it away as the ship began pulling into the dock.
When the ship finally docked and the gangplank was lowered, Benimaru grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. Inside were the only a few changes of clothes, and other useful necessities.
Ryota was waiting for him at the bottom of the gangplank, his white Marine coat billowing slightly in the sea breeze.
"Alright, kid. Listen carefully," Ryota said, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his coat. "The Marine base is at the far back of the island, probably a few minutes walk from here if you take the main road. I've got something to do, so I can't take you there myself right now."
Ryota reached into his coat and pulled out another folded piece of paper, then handed both papers to Benimaru. "This is your recruitment authorization, signed by me. Show it to the guards at the base entrance, and they'll direct you to the recruitment office. Show them the letter, and they'll let you in."
Benimaru took the papers and tucked it into his pocket.
"I'll meet you there later tonight after I'm done with all the bureaucratic nonsense," Ryota continued. "And then I'll have to leave to the grand line...so this is probably the last time I will talk to you for a while, so do you need anything else?"
Benimaru shook his head. "No, I pretty much have everything I need so I'm good."
Ryota studied his face for a moment, then nodded. "Alright then. Head straight down the main road and don't cause any trouble. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Good. I'll see you soon." Ryota gave him one last pat on the shoulder, then turned and headed off in a different direction, his coat swaying behind him as he disappeared into the crowd of marines moving through the docks.
Benimaru stood there for a moment, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder. Then he turned toward the main road and started walking.
The main road cut straight through the center of the island like an artery, wide enough for multiple carriages to pass side by side. It was paved with cobblestones, worn smooth by years of foot traffic and wagon wheels.
The docks district was exactly what Benimaru expected from a port town as it was just completely packed with people. Warehouses lined the waterfront, their doors open as workers hauled crates and barrels. Sailors stumbled out of taverns even though it was barely afternoon, already drunk and laughing too loud.
Street vendors had set up shop along the main road, calling out to anyone passing by. They mainly sold grilled fish on sticks, meat skewers sizzling over charcoal, and steamed buns wrapped in paper. The vendors competed with each other, shouting prices and promises that their food was the best on the island.
Children ran through the streets, weaving between the crowd of people. Some were playing games, chasing each other with wooden swords. Others were working, delivering messages, carrying packages, earning a few berries however they could.
Laundry hung from lines strung between buildings, colorful clothes swaying in the breeze like flags. Women leaned out of second-story windows, chatting with neighbors across the narrow gaps between structures while keeping an eye on the street below.
As Benimaru walked further inland, the docks district gradually gave way to the merchant quarter. The buildings here were nicer with actual shops with painted signs and glass windows instead of the rough wooden structures near the water. He passed stores selling all kinds of goods: exotic spices from the Grand Line, fine fabrics in colors he'd never seen before, weapons and armor hanging in displays.
Restaurants with proper seating areas had tables set up outside, where well-dressed merchants sat eating lunch and discussing business deals. Guards stood posted at the doors of banks, their hands resting on sword hilts as they watched everyone who passed with suspicious eyes.
The people here were different too being much cleaner, better dressed, and walking with the kind of confidence that came from having money. Merchants in fine coats haggled with each other over prices. Women in elegant dresses walked the streets while their servants behind carried all their lugage around.
Further along, the merchant quarter transitioned into residential areas. Multi-story buildings packed close together, with families living above shops or in dedicated housing blocks. These weren't mansions, but they weren't slums either, just regular homes for regular people trying to get by.
And beyond that, separated by a stretch of open ground, were the wealthy estates. Mansions with gardens and walls, where successful merchants and minor nobles lived far enough from the smell and noise of the working districts.
But Benimaru kept walking, following the main road as it cut straight through all of it.
And finally, at the very back of the island, the Marine base came into view.
It was massive, an entire compound surrounded by high white stone walls. Guard towers stood at regular intervals, their watchmen visible as tiny figures scanning the area. Cannons were mounted along the walls, pointed both toward the sea and inland, ready to defend against threats from any direction.
The main gate was wide enough for three wagons to pass through side by side, with Marines in full uniform standing guard on either side. Flags bearing the seagull-and-scales symbol of the Marines flew from every tower, snapping in the wind.
Through the open gate, Benimaru could see inside the compound that had training grounds where dozens of recruits were running formations, barracks buildings that could house thousands, administrative structures with official-looking facades, and at the very center, a fortress-like headquarters building that dominated everything else.
Benimaru stopped at the gate, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the recruitment authorization Ryota had given him.
The guards noticed him immediately, their eyes sharp and assessing.
"State your business," one of them said.
"I'm here for the recruitment," Benimaru replied, holding up the paper. "Commodore Ryota sent me."
The guard took the paper, scanned it quickly, then handed it back. "Head straight to that building on the left...the one with the blue roof. That's the recruitment office. They'll process you there."
Benimaru nodded and walked through the gate.
. . . . .
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