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And just like that, a week and a half slipped by in a blur of sweat, bruises, and pain. Each day followed the same routine that felt more like punishment than anything. For Toshi, it was nothing short of hell—a cycle of merciless training that began at the break of dawn and ended only when his body refused to cooperate any longer.
Every morning, his muscles aching and mind still half-asleep, he was thrown straight into Ragnar's training. By the time the muscle training was over, his body felt like it was falling apart. But there was no time to rest...not for someone like him. The rest of the day was filled with fighting drills and sparring that left him bruised and questioning his life choices.
His swordsmanship had gotten... better. Not by much, but enough to notice. He didn't drop the damn thing anymore, at least, and his swings were less clumsy. But that was about it.
His footwork? A disaster. His balance? All over the place. He moved more like someone trying not to fall off a ship than an actual swordsman. Rose had no problem telling him just how bad he was, either...her blunt critiques hitting almost as hard as her sword.
Still, he kept at it. What else could he do? The pain was constant, and the progress was barely there, but he couldn't stop. He had to get better. And maybe, just maybe, he could see the tiniest sliver of improvement in himself. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him going. For now.
On the other hand, shooting came more naturally to Toshi. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress. Now, he could hit a bottle every two or three misses, a huge step up from where he'd started just a few days ago, when hitting anything felt like blind luck. He was starting to get a feel for the weight of the gun, the timing of his shots, and how to steady his aim under pressure.
Hand-to-hand combat with Troy, however, was another beast entirely. Sparring with Troy forced Toshi to think fast, react faster, and endure more pain than he thought he could handle. Each day left him bruised and battered to the bone, but it sharpened him in ways he didn't expect. He was getting quicker on his feet, more aware of openings, and better at staying on his toes.
But no matter how much he improved, there was one thing Toshi couldn't do....land a hit on Troy. Not once. Every punch or kick he threw was met with either a dodge, a block, or a smirk.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Toshi was granted a single, glorious day to rest his battered body. ["A day of recovery is vital for muscle growth," Ragnar had said in his usual gruff tone.] At the time, those words were almost poetic to Toshi. The thought of not being pushed to the brink of collapse for once felt like salvation itself.
Even better, he hadn't seen any of them all day. Not Ragnar, not Troy, not Rose, and definitely not Sogeki. It was like a vacation. If this was what freedom felt like, Toshi could get used to it. Truthfully, if he never had to face those monsters again, he wouldn't lose a wink of sleep.
Still, something about the quiet nagged at him.
' What if they're pranking me? ' he wondered, his brow furrowing. A shiver ran down his spine at the idea of them bursting out of nowhere with some sadistic "training" surprise.
' No... surely not, ' he thought, shaking his head. But the thought refused to leave him, gnawing at the edges of his peace. Toshi sighed, staring at the ceiling, trying to push the idea out of his mind. ' For once, let me have this. ' clasping his hands together into a prayer.
For now, Toshi lay sprawled out on the worn couch in the lounge room, an apple juice box resting lazily in his hands as he sipped from it. The window in front of him was wide open, letting the ocean breeze flow through. The once pungent salty sea air was something he was starting to get used to during his time at sea. It carried a strange comfort, a sense that reminded him just how far he was from where he started.
The afternoon sun poured through the window, bathing him in a soft, golden light that gave his skin a warm glow. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a moment and letting out a contented sigh. "Ahhh," he breathed, savoring the rare moment of peace. Nothing could ruin this. Nothing at all.
But as he stared at the sky through the window, his hand tightened around the juice box, squeezing it slightly. A bit more juice rushed through the straw, and he froze.
"Raoul… please still be alive," he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible even to himself.
The thought of Raoul lingered like a weight on his chest. He couldn't be dead...he shouldn't be dead. Raoul had done nothing but try to help him, even when the problems weren't his to bear. And yet, the nagging thought of what might have happened wouldn't let go. With him dead, Toshi knew there was only one person to blame... himself.
If he hadn't gotten involved with those guys in the first place, if he'd just stayed out of trouble, maybe things wouldn't have spiraled into this mess. Maybe Raoul wouldn't have paid the price for his mistakes.
Toshi exhaled, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the guilt. But it clung to him, heavier than the salty air. The apple juice in his hand felt almost too sweet, too undeserved. Still, he drank. There was nothing else to do.
Maybe Raoul would still be alive right now… and for that, Toshi could never forgive himself. Just as the thought threatened to consume him, the door to the lounge burst open with a deafening...
*WAM*
Toshi jolted, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest as Troy walked in, that devilish grin stretched wide across his face. The sunlight streaming through the window caught Troy's teeth just right, giving them an unnervingly bright sparkle that made Toshi's stomach churn.
As soon as his eyes locked onto Troy, an icy wave washed over him. Goosebumps rippled across his skin, and before he could even think, he flung himself over the back of the couch, landing in a crouch behind it like his life depended on it.
"NOPE! NO WAY!" he shouted, his voice cracking slightly. His wide, fearful eyes peeked over the edge of the couch as sweat trickled down his forehead. "Y-YOU GUYS SAID I COULD HAVE A BREAK TODAY! I'M NOT GOING!"
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he clutched the couch for dear life, trembling like a cornered animal. He felt utterly betrayed. ' This was supposed to be my day! They promised! '
"They lied… they betrayed me," he whimpered under his breath, his chest tightening as his worst fears came true right before his eyes.
Troy chuckled, his grin widening. "Heh, nah, no training today… sadly." He let out a theatrical sigh, stretching his arms high above his head before flopping down onto the couch directly in front of Toshi.
Toshi blinked, then let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, wiping at his forehead as if removing a waterfall of sweat. "Thank God," he muttered before hopping back onto the couch and sprawling out flat.
Troy smirked, resting his chin on his fist. "But… why not spar? Since you've got nothing bett—"
"Hell no!" Toshi cut him off, not missing a beat. "I'm gonna enjoy my day off." His voice was almost desperate, clinging to his hard-earned rest day. He'd been dreaming of this moment since day one. Only an idiot would willingly give it up.
Troy shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright… suit yourself. Oh!" He suddenly sat up straighter, as if remembering something. "I forgot to tell you—we're stopping by a nearby island to gather supplies."
Toshi raised a brow, mildly intrigued but still skeptical. "We've been sailing for a week and a half now… When are we even gonna reach the Grand Line?" Skipping right over Troy's words, cutting straight to the bigger question weighing on his mind.
Troy tilted his head lazily. "Not sure, but I heard the island we're stopping by is close to it." He stretched out further on the couch, closing his eyes.
"For real? Which island is it?" Toshi asked, leaning back into the couch.
Troy scratched his chin, his face scrunching in thought. "Uhh, I'm not sure. Ragnar told me, but… it was called… Logo Town? Nah, that's not right…" He trailed off, staring at the ceiling as if the answer were written there.
"Loguetown," Toshi said, his voice a bit shaky as he sat forward.
Troy's eyebrows shot up, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening in surprise. "Yeah! That's it! Loguetown! You know, the Pirate King got executed there? Crazy, right?" Troy grinned, leaning back into the couch as if it wasn't anything extraordinary. He closed his eyes, settling into a comfortable slouch.
Toshi froze. Slowly, he sat upright, his body stiffening as a flood of thoughts rushed through his mind. ' What am I doing? Taking a break? ' His fingers clenched tightly against his knees, his nails digging into his skin.
' What have I done to deserve a break? '
Raoul's face flashed in his mind. The only person who had cared...gone. And why? Because of Toshi's selfishness, his utter lack of strength. The bitter taste of regret swirled in his mouth as he clenched his jaw.
' I am weak. Pathetic. ' His stomach churned with disgust with himself. How could he lounge around like this when he was still so powerless? Toshi's chest tightened with the weight of his failures, his breath hitching. ' No more breaks. No more excuses. '
Toshi's voice, low and hoarse, broke the silence. "Hey, Troy…"
Troy opened one eye lazily, peering at him with mild curiosity. "Yeah?" he replied, his tone casual.
"I'll take you up on that sparring offer," Toshi said, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles turning white.
For a moment, Troy didn't respond, his usual grin slipping as he looked at Toshi's face. Then, as if his entire demeanor changed, a massive smile spread across his lips, brighter and more excited than ever. "Alright! Now we're talking!" he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly.
He jumped to his feet, his excitement practically vibrating off him. "You're finally ready to go at it, huh? I knew you had it in you, Toshi!"
Toshi didn't respond immediately. Deep down, he didn't feel ready. But waiting wouldn't make him stronger...only taking action would.
"Let's just get started," he said. He unclenched his fists, his hands trembling slightly before he stuffed them into his pockets to hide the shake. Troy clapped him on the back with enough force to send him stumbling forward a step. "That's the spirit! Let's hit the deck. Time to show me what you've got!"
Toshi nodded stiffly, following Troy out of the lounge. His muscles were still sore from days of training, but he pushed the thought away. This was the first step. He couldn't stop now. Not anymore...
. . . . .
The wooden deck of the ship creaked underfoot as Toshi and Troy squared off, the salty sea breeze whipping past them. A few trainees loitered nearby, leaning on barrels or perching on crates.
Troy cracked his knuckles, his grin wide, the kind of grin that made Toshi's fist tighten. "Alright, kid," Troy said, bouncing lightly on his toes. "Let's see if all that sweat and pain paid off. Show me what you've got."
Toshi swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the cool air. He lowered into the stance that had been drilled into him over the past grueling days. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, fists up. It wasn't perfect, but it was better. "Fine," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's get this over with."
Troy didn't wait. He lunged, his fist cutting through the air like a whip. Toshi barely managed to raise his arms in time, blocking the blow, the impact rattling his bones. He staggered back, his footing faltering, but he caught himself before falling.
"Look at you, I can barely tell if you're trying to fight or just stand still and get hit," Troy taunted in his childish voice, circling Toshi.
Toshi gritted his teeth and shifted his weight, adjusting his stance. Another punch came, this one aimed at his ribs. He twisted, but he was a beat too slow...the blow grazed him, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his side.
"Damn it," he winced, pushing back to create distance.
Troy didn't let up, his punches relentless, his footwork effortless. Toshi blocked one blow, ducked another, but the third slammed into his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance again.
Toshi exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Troy's movements. He started to notice the subtle shifts in Troy's stance...the way his weight shifted slightly before each strike, the faint telegraph of his punches.
The next punch came, and this time, Toshi sidestepped, the blow missing him by inches.
"Better!" Troy said, grinning as he pivoted into another attack.
Toshi ducked, blocked, and without thinking, threw a punch of his own.
..It connected...
The sound of Toshi's fist hitting Troy's face was dull but satisfying, like a stone striking solid ground. The feeling of Troy's flesh beneath Toshi's fist was oddly satisfying.
"Well, I'll be damned," Troy said, stepping back with a laugh. "You actually hit me. Not bad, . Not bad at all... But you're gonna pay for that. "
Toshi's heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He'd landed a hit. A real, solid hit.
But Troy didn't give him time to savor the moment. He came at Toshi harder, faster, his punches more aggressive. Toshi blocked, dodged, and absorbed the blows that slipped through, each one a painful reminder of how far he still had to go.
Yet, something was shifting. Toshi's movements became less clumsy, his blocks more precise. He started to read Troy's attacks better, dodging punches that would've floored him days ago. His stance felt more natural, his feet moving instinctively to keep him balanced.
Troy lunged forward, his right fist hurtling straight toward Toshi's face. Shakily, Toshi tilted his head to the side, narrowly dodging the blow as the air rushed past his cheek. But Troy wasn't done, he twisted his core, sending his left fist toward Toshi in a fluid follow-up. Panicking, Toshi wobbled backward, just barely pulling his head away as Troy's knuckles grazed the tip of his nose.
Staggering, Toshi quickly brought his right foot back to plant himself. He inhaled, his chest heaving as adrenaline pumped through his veins. Then, he lunged forward. His hand cocked back, he threw his fist with everything he had, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle before it connected squarely with Troy's face.
*WAM*
The impact echoed through the area as Troy's face scrunched up from the blow, Toshi's fist firmly planted against his cheek. Time seemed to freeze for a moment. Toshi's eyes widened in disbelief, his breath caught in his throat.
"I did it... again!" Toshi gasped.
Then, Toshi felt a sudden, heavy impact under his chin. The world around him blurred into a smear of light and sound, ringing with a sharp, disorienting pitch. For a moment, everything went dark. When his senses returned, he found himself sprawled on the wooden floor, staring up at the open sky. The ship's mast swaying above him, framed by clouds lazily drifting by.
His head throbbed as he clutched it, groaning softly. Slowly, he sat up, his vision refocusing. Across from him stood Troy, his grin wide and mocking, with his hands planted on his hips.
"That's what happens when you stop paying attention," Troy said, laughing heartily.
Toshi rubbed his jaw, wincing at the sharp ache as he climbed back to his feet. "Fair... fair," he muttered, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. Despite the pain, a grin crept onto his face, growing wider as he shifted into his stance. "But if we keep going, I feel like I might actually win one for once."
Troy raised a brow, his grin never wavering. "Oh, really? Feeling cocky now, huh?" He adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders. "Alright then, hotshot. Let's go. Show me what you've got!"
. . . .
Toshi did not, in fact, win even once. What followed was less of a spar and more of a one-sided massacre. Troy used him like a personal training dummy, battering and tossing him around the deck as if he weighed nothing. Every punch, every kick, and every hit drove home the sheer gap in their abilities, each impact leaving Toshi almost unconscious.
By the time they were finished, Toshi was sprawled out on the wooden deck, barely able to breathe, let alone stand. He felt like every muscle in his body had been replaced with lead, his limbs heavy and barely able to move.
TO BE CONTINUED.
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