The bounty board was crowded that morning.
Ryu noticed it from halfway across the street.
It wasn't the board itself — it was the people.
Villagers stood in tight clusters, voices low, expressions uneasy. Some leaned in close, others kept their distance, as if whatever was posted might reach out and grab them.
Ryu slowed his steps.
Kenji noticed immediately. "That's never a good sign."
They approached together.
The moment Ryu saw the paper, he stopped.
Not because of the number.
Because of the name.
---
**RYU — alias "GREY KNIFE"
Bounty: 4,700,000 Berries
Alive or Dead
Reason: Interference with Marine operations. Armed resistance. High-risk individual.**
---
Below it—
---
**KENJI — alias "RED BLADE"
Bounty: 3,500,000 Berries
Alive or Dead
Reason: Interference with Marine operations. Armed resistance.**
---
For a moment, the world went very quiet.
Ryu stared at the poster, his mind struggling to catch up with what his eyes were seeing.
"That's…" Kenji began, then stopped. "That's not small."
Ryu didn't respond.
He stared at his own face printed in black and white. The sketch wasn't perfect, but it was close enough to make his stomach tighten.
Grey Knife.
The name felt strange.
Unfamiliar.
Like something that didn't belong to him.
"Alive or dead," Kenji muttered. "That part I don't like."
Ryu finally exhaled. "They really didn't like us interfering."
Kenji barked a quiet laugh. "That's one way to put it."
Around them, the villagers whispered.
Some stared openly now. Others avoided looking at them at all. A few stepped back without realizing they were doing it.
The distance was already forming.
Ryu felt it.
Not fear.
Caution.
He folded the edge of the poster down gently, careful not to tear it.
"We should go," he said.
Kenji nodded.
They left without a word.
---
They didn't speak until they reached the edge of the village.
The sea stretched out before them, calm and indifferent.
Kenji leaned against a post, arms folded. "So… we're officially wanted."
Ryu stared at the water. "Not criminals."
Kenji snorted. "That's not how the Marines see it."
Ryu knew that.
The Marines didn't care about intent. Only outcomes.
They had interfered.
Twice.
That was enough.
"You okay?" Kenji asked.
Ryu hesitated. "I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."
Kenji exhaled slowly. "Same."
They stood there in silence.
Then—
"You're thinking about it too, aren't you?" Kenji said.
Ryu nodded. "We can't stay like this."
Kenji turned to him. "Like what?"
"Unprepared," Ryu replied. "We got lucky."
Kenji frowned. "You don't think we could—"
"I know we could," Ryu cut in. "That's the problem."
He clenched his fists.
"We won because they underestimated us. Because we weren't who they thought we were."
Kenji's expression darkened. "And now?"
"Now they're watching."
---
The old man appeared that evening.
Not dramatically.
Not announced.
Just… there.
Ryu noticed him first, standing near the edge of the dock, staff resting lightly against the wood.
Jiro.
He hadn't changed. Same worn clothes. Same unreadable expression.
Ryu approached him slowly. "You knew this would happen."
Jiro didn't deny it.
"The world doesn't like unpredictability," he said. "Especially when it comes from people without banners."
Kenji crossed his arms. "So what? We're supposed to stop helping people?"
Jiro's gaze shifted to him. "No."
"Then what?"
Jiro turned back to the sea. "You're supposed to understand the cost."
Ryu frowned. "We already do."
Jiro shook his head. "You understand the *risk*. Not the weight."
Ryu waited.
"You acted," Jiro continued. "And the world reacted. That's how it works. Every move you make now echoes farther than you think."
Ryu's jaw tightened. "So what are we supposed to do?"
Jiro finally looked at him directly.
"Train," he said simply.
Ryu's breath caught.
"For real this time."
Kenji stiffened. "You mean—"
"I mean you stop guessing," Jiro said. "You stop relying on instinct alone. And you start learning why your body moves the way it does."
Ryu's heart pounded.
"You'll teach us?" he asked.
Jiro paused.
Then shook his head. "No."
Ryu frowned. "Then what—"
"I'll correct you," Jiro said. "When you're wrong."
Silence fell.
"That's it?" Kenji asked.
Jiro smiled faintly. "That's more than most get."
---
Training began the next morning.
Not with sparring.
Not with drills.
With stillness.
Jiro made them stand on the shoreline as the tide rolled in and out.
"Feel the water," he said. "Not with your feet. With your balance."
They stood for hours.
When they shifted too much, Jiro tapped them with his staff.
When they focused too hard, he shook his head.
"You're listening for noise," he said. "Not intention."
It was exhausting.
Frustrating.
And somehow… clarifying.
By nightfall, Ryu felt different.
Not stronger.
Sharper.
As if the world had turned its volume down just enough for him to hear what mattered.
When they finally stopped, Kenji collapsed onto the sand.
"This is worse than fighting," he groaned.
Jiro chuckled. "Good."
Ryu sat beside him, staring at his hands.
Grey Knife.
The name echoed in his mind.
A label.
A warning.
The beginning of something he couldn't undo.
Jiro looked out at the dark sea.
"From now on," he said quietly, "every step you take will be watched."
Ryu nodded.
He already felt it.
---