Chapter 18 – Flying Slash: The Warship's Child Laborer!
Ever since Yoriichi Tsugikuni had learned the Navy's Six Styles from Aokiji, he'd been pestering the man endlessly for sparring sessions—determined to use sheer, relentless combat to make the techniques second nature to his body.
Though the Six Styles drained his stamina at an alarming rate, Yoriichi's recovery was extraordinary. After a short rest, he could regain enough strength to continue training again, each round pushing his mastery a little further.
As his understanding deepened, Yoriichi began to experiment—integrating Tempest Kick (Rankyaku) into his sword techniques, channeling compressed air through a blade instead of a leg.
Finally, around midday, his efforts bore fruit.
"Vmmm—"
A deep hum of cutting wind filled the deck as Yoriichi swung his bamboo sword. A formless blade of air shot toward Aokiji like a silent crescent.
The attack was fast—blindingly fast—and utterly silent. Fortunately, Aokiji had been relying on Observation Haki throughout their bouts. He sensed the strike the very instant Yoriichi unleashed it.
But even so, he hadn't expected an attack from such range. Unprepared to dodge, he reflexively triggered his Devil Fruit power, his body crystallizing into solid ice.
The next instant—
The invisible slash cleaved straight through him. Aokiji's torso split cleanly in half, his upper body slamming onto the deck with a solid thud!
"BOOM!!!"
The slash's force only slightly weakened after cutting through him—it blasted into the railing behind, tearing a gaping hole through the warship's side.
"Crack—"
The frozen admiral reformed his body, touched his abdomen where no wound remained, then turned toward the ruined railing, eyes widening slightly.
"That was… a flying slash!"
"A swordsman's technique!"
Yoriichi's eyes lit up. He tightened his grip on the bamboo sword and swung twice more.
"Vmm! Vmm!"
Two more invisible slashes burst forth—sharper, broader, and far more controlled.
If one could see them, they would have appeared as three-meter-long, half-meter-wide crescents of compressed air cutting straight toward Aokiji.
"Oi, are you trying to slice me in half for real?" Aokiji sighed, helpless. A faint breeze passed—and his figure vanished from sight.
With his Observation Haki primed, there was no chance he'd be struck again.
"BOOM! BOOM!"
Two deafening crashes shook the deck. The railing now sported two more enormous gaps, and the floor itself bore deep, jagged grooves several meters long.
"Not bad," Yoriichi said, satisfied. "I can finally feel my progress."
He lifted his bamboo sword again, excitement blazing in his eyes—ready to try once more.
But before he could swing—
A sandbag-sized fist came down on his head without warning.
"THUD!!"
"OW—!"
Completely caught off guard, Yoriichi dropped to his knees, clutching his head in pain.
A booming voice roared behind him:
"You little brat!!!"
"What do you think my warship is?!"
"Are you training—or trying to demolish it, huh?!"
Yoriichi turned around, dazed, to find Vice Admiral Garp glaring down at him, nostrils flaring.
"Uh… sorry," Yoriichi muttered sheepishly, rubbing his head. His excitement over the breakthrough had gotten the better of him, and he'd completely forgotten where he was. One look at the shredded railing and scarred deck made him wince with guilt.
After a pause, he gave an awkward smile.
"Um… Vice Admiral Garp, I… don't have any money to pay for this."
"Bah, don't worry," Garp snorted, digging in his nose with his pinky. "I'll make Zephyr handle the paperwork."
He leaned closer, grin widening.
"Now—go fix the mess you made. No dinner until it's done!"
Before Yoriichi could respond, Garp suddenly turned toward the ship's entrance.
"Oi! Kuzan! Don't you dare sneak off!"
Aokiji, who had been quietly tiptoeing away, froze mid-step.
"You're part of this too!" Garp barked. "You'll help fix the damage—no repairs, no dinner!"
Caught red-handed, Aokiji turned around with an awkward smile, then shot Yoriichi a withering glare that clearly said:
"This is all your fault."
"Tap! Tap! Tap!"
The sound of a small hammer echoed across the deck. Squatting by the railing, Yoriichi Tsugikuni carefully fitted a newly cut plank into place, securing it with neat, steady taps of his mallet.
To his credit, he was surprisingly adept at the work. During his years of seclusion in the mountains, he had often needed to craft his own furniture. While he wasn't skilled in fine carving, he was well-versed in the basics of mortise and tenon joinery.
"Tap… tap…"
Unlike Yoriichi's practiced rhythm, Aokiji's movements were clumsy and uncertain—one nail here, another there, the plank misaligned and uneven. The repaired patch stuck up awkwardly from the deck like a swollen bruise.
"Eh… good enough," Aokiji said at last, nodding in satisfaction. "Close enough counts."
Yoriichi turned his head, silently studying the lumpy "patchwork" on the floor. After a moment of painful hesitation, he sighed.
"…Forget it. Captain Kuzan, since I was the one who caused the damage, I'll redo it myself."
Aokiji glanced at his handiwork, grimaced, and admitted to himself that it really did look terrible. With a resigned shrug, he extended a hand—an icy blade instantly forming in his grasp. Using it like a chisel, he sliced away the excess wood until the surface sat flush with the rest of the deck.
"Oho~ Devil Fruit powers sure are convenient," Yoriichi remarked with an admiring grin, before turning back to his own repairs.
As he worked, he struck up conversation in the easy, natural way of someone used to quiet labor.
"So, Captain Kuzan—why did you decide to become a Marine?"
Aokiji paused for a moment, then chuckled softly. "You're Zephyr-sensei's disciple, right? We know each other now. No need for formalities—just call me Kuzan."
Despite his rank, Kuzan wasn't the type to act superior. They shared the same mentor, and from what he'd seen of Yoriichi's talent and Garp's fondness for him, the young man was someone worth treating as a peer.
"As for why I became a Marine…" He straightened up, hammer dangling loosely from his hand. "Do you even need to ask? Of course it's to uphold justice! Isn't that why you joined?"
When he said the word justice, there was a spark in his eyes—clear and earnest. Kuzan had entered the Marines driven by genuine conviction, with the idealism of a man who still believed the world could be changed.
"Uphold justice, huh… that sounds impressive," Yoriichi murmured, smiling faintly. "I'm not as noble as you. I just don't want to see ruined towns or good people dying needlessly anymore."
Kuzan froze for a heartbeat at that quiet confession. Then he looked at Yoriichi with a touch of gravity.
"What you're trying to do," he said slowly, "is far greater than what I am."
He paused, then continued in a tone somewhere between warning and admiration.
"The world's a big place, Yoriichi. What you want to change won't be easy. Even with strength—especially with strength—it's a hard path."
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Still, to think someone your age already carries such ambition…"
Then Kuzan laughed, light and genuine. "Hahaha, I get it now! I finally see why you're on this ship."
"Yoriichi, you and I are both lucky—to be under Vice Admiral Garp's wing."
Just as he finished speaking, Garp's voice boomed from across the deck:
"You two! Stop slacking off and get back to work!"
"…."
"…Right. Forget what I said," Kuzan muttered, shoulders slumping.
And so, under the watchful eye of the grinning old Vice Admiral, two of the Navy's most gifted "recruits" continued their punishment duty—one hammering, one chiseling—like a pair of carpenters pressed into service.
(End of Chapter)