It was the start of a new day, and more importantly, a new day as a Marine.
Yesterday, Ryota had visited him after finishing whatever business he'd attended to. He'd come to express his goodbyes before leaving that same night, and ultimately heading off to the grand line.
Which meant Benimaru was officially alone now and all on his own.
The early morning light filtered through the small window of his barracks room as Benimaru counted off push-ups on the wooden floor. "...forty-seven... forty-eight... forty-nine... fifty." His arms trembled slightly as he pushed himself through the last rep, sweat already beginning to form on his brow. He'd woken up early to get his training in before the official day started and warm up a bit.
He stood up, breathing heavily, and wiped his face with his forearm. Benimaru rubbed at the bags under his eyes, dark circles that had become a permanent fixture on his face. He still barely got any sleep last night or any night over the past two months, really. The nightmares from the raid haunted him constantly, pulling him awake in cold sweats with images of blood and screaming burned into his mind.
But even though he had less time to sleep, it made more room for training, which he'd been doing a lot of. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well make himself useful.
Turning to the little wooden desk in his room, Benimaru looked at his training uniform laid out neatly. It was a simple gray pants and a white shirt with the Marine insignia emblazoned on the chest.
"I don't want to be late on my first day, right?" he said, more as a joke to himself than anything, before quickly changing into his training uniform.
The fabric felt stiff and new against his skin. He adjusted the shirt, made sure everything fit properly, and caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. He looked... different.
Over the past two months, between his recovery and Ryota's training, he'd put on some muscle. It wasn't anything crazy, but it was there.
He gave the mirror a little flex, examining his arms, before ultimately sighing. "...But after two months, I could've put on a little bit more muscle," he said to himself, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice at his slow growth.
'Didn't Luffy go from East Blue level to fighting Warlords and even participating in the Marineford War in like two months...' Benimaru grumbled internally.
Well, he wasn't entirely upset since he knew he couldn't match up with Luffy's stupidly crazy genetics and plot armor. And on top of all that, Luffy had one of the most broken Devil Fruits in the entire world. So it wasn't fair to compare himself to someone like that.
He then headed for the door and pulled it open, stepping into the hallway. Other recruits were already storming through, heading outside with varying degrees of confidence and nervousness on their faces.
"Yo! Beni."
Benimaru turned to see Troy pop up beside him with an energetic grin.
They headed outside together, joining the stream of recruits making their way to the training grounds. The morning sun was already beating down as they emerged into a large dirt area. In the middle, recruits were huddled around a makeshift platform—just a solid piece of flat wood elevated slightly off the ground.
"Yo," a voice called out as Kai pulled up beside them, followed quickly by Marcus who gave a casual nod.
"Hey guys," Reina said, coming from the opposite direction to join their group.
"Oh crap!" Troy suddenly said, his eyes going wide.
Everyone's gaze immediately landed on a man walking toward the training area, his eyes fixed on a wristwatch with an especially grumpy look on his face.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with a weathered face that spoke of years spent at sea and in combat. His hair was cropped short and graying at the temples, and a jagged scar ran down the left side of his face from eyebrow to jaw. He wore the standard Marine officer uniform, but it had a slight change as the sleeves were cropped to his elbow. His expression was set in a permanent scowl, the kind that suggested he'd seen too much incompetence in his career and had zero patience left for it.
Immediately, everyone scrambled into formation in a single horizontal line facing the wooden platform. The casual chatter died instantly, replaced by the sound of boots hitting dirt as recruits rushed to their positions.
Benimaru quickly ran over, realizing he was missing something important. He slid into position just as the instructor's eyes swept across the formation.
The man stepped up onto the wooden platform, and immediately his scowl deepened even further as he checked his wristwatch. "It's 0502 hours. It took you people two minutes to be in proper formation and be quiet..." His tone was flat, cold, and carried across the entire training ground without him having to raise his voice.
He placed both arms across his chest in a tight cross. "But it was better than last week, so I'll let it slide for this one time... because we have some new recruits joining us." His eyes swept across the formation, landing on a few faces he didn't recognize, including Benimaru, who felt the weight of that gaze like a physical thing.
"So for those of you who don't know, my name is Instructor Voss... I'm your physical conditioning intructor." He paused, letting that sink in. "That means my job is to break down every muscle in your body until you're so sore you want to quit, then build you back up into someone who won't embarrass this uniform." he tugged at his shirt.
"I don't tolerate excuses. I don't care about your feelings. I don't give a damn if you're tired, sore, or having a bad day. When I tell you to do something, you do it. When I tell you to stop, you stop. If you have a problem with that, there's the gate." He gestured vaguely toward the base entrance. "No one's forcing you to be here."
Silence.
Voss's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted. "Good." he said, letting the word hang in the air for a moment. Seeing a few recruits visibly relaxed, thinking they'd dodged a bullet.
Then Voss continued.
"Oh..you remember when I said I'd let your late formation slide this time?"
Everybody froze...
"I lied."
. . .
"Everyone. Five laps around the track. Now." His tone was flat, and matter-of-fact with no room to talk back. "I didn't like how slow you were getting into formation. Let's see if running helps you move faster next time."
A wave of silent frustration rippled through the formation. Everyone was immediately annoyed, but none of them dared show it outwardly. Since it would only amount to more laps or even worse.
"This fucking sucks..." Troy grumbled beneath his breath, quiet enough that only those immediately next to him could hear.
The instructor didn't dismiss them with words, he simply gestured with his hand, and the recruits immediately broke formation, starting to jog toward the track that circled the training grounds.
Benimaru could feel several glares pressing against his back as he began running. A few other recruits shot him looks that made it clear they blamed him for their extra work. He partially felt bad since it kind of was his fault for being slow, but at the same time, he didn't really mind it. Since more running meant more training, and more training meant getting stronger faster.
. . . .
Finishing the laps wasn't that hard, but it had left Benimaru gasping for air by the end. His chest burned, his throat felt a little itchy, and sweat dripped from his face onto the dirt. As he looked around at some of the other recruits, he noticed that many of them barely seemed out of breath, like the five laps had been nothing more than a casual morning walk.
'I'm out of air already..?' Benimaru thought, with a slight frustration gnawing at him.
He'd done this kind of running back in the village, hell, he'd done more than this on some days. But after two months of recovery an injury had completely tanked his stamina.
Yet as he looked at a few of the other recruits a few of them looked strong, and couldn't help but wonder. 'How strong are these guys? Are any of them going to become important later?...But, I don't recognize any of them.'
Benimaru inwardly sighed to himself. He was starting to regret not becoming like those crazy-ass MCs who just got stronger because of the plot. Maybe if he'd actually exploited his meta-knowledge of this world earlier, things would've been much different.
But the canon timeline was still far away. Most of his knowledge about future events was pretty useless at the moment since everything important would be happening in several years.
His thoughts were cut off by a hand on his shoulder.
"You good, bro?" Marcus asked, his expression showing genuine concern.
Benimaru nodded, taking in one deep breath. For some reason, it felt like it might be his last deep breath of fresh air for a while. "Yeah, I'm good."
"Alright." Marcus patted his shoulder once before moving back to his spot in formation.
Instructor Voss stepped back onto the platform, his eyes sweeping across the assembled recruits who were now reformed into their lines. "If you new recruits didn't understand what kind of instructor I am," Voss said, his tone as flat as before, "you should know now."
He then began pacing along the platform, with his hands clasped behind his back. "Physical fitness isn't optional in the Marines. It's not something you can ignore or half-ass. When you're on a ship in the middle of a storm, hauling ropes and adjusting sails for hours, you need endurance. When you're in hand-to-hand combat with a pirate twice your size, you need strength. When you need to chase down a criminal through three city blocks, you need speed. And when all of that happens in the same day...which it will, you need stamina."
He then stopped pacing and turned to face them fully.
His eyes swept across the formation again, and this time there was something almost clinical in the way he looked at them, like he was mentally cataloging who would make it and who wouldn't.
"Some of you are already in decent shape. Good. You'll improve faster. Some of you..." He gestured vaguely at the group, "...are not. That's fine. Everyone starts somewhere. But remember this...you're a 'recruit' and not even officially Marines yet. So if you don't prove fit to be in the Marines, then you will be kicked out." His tone became more emphatic. "I've already explained this, but I have to put great emphasis on that... don't mess around and give it your all in the upcoming months."
Voss tried to give what Benimaru thought was supposed to be a motivational speech, but with his incredibly stone-faced expression, it was quite difficult to tell if he was being encouraging or threatening.
Voss crossed his arms again. "Now, today's training will consist of the following... After sparring assessment, we'll do strength conditioning, push-ups, pull-ups, squats, core work..excetera. Then we move onto combat drills. Then a final endurance test....We'll be here for the next six hours. Anyone who can't complete the full session can leave now."
Again, no one moved.
"Outstanding." There might have been the tiniest hint of approval in his tone. Maybe. "Now, before we get to sparring, I need to see your current baseline. Everyone, drop and give me fifty push-ups...If I see anyone slacking, we start over from zero. Begin."
The entire formation immediately dropped to the ground as one. Benimaru's arms were already tired from his early morning workout and the run, but he got into position anyway. Around him, dozens of other recruits did the same.
And just like that, his second day passed by hellishly slow.
By the end of it, Benimaru had been pushed to his absolute limits, he'd vomited three times and passed out once. His body had simply given out during the final endurance test, and he'd woken up in the medical bay with a concerned medic shining a light in his eyes.
Training was proving way harder than he'd actually thought it would be.
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