My Original Burning Justice

Conrad had been practicing Haki for over a month. His Conqueror's Haki, which had originally erupted wildly in all directions, had shrunk to a six-and-a-half-point radius, though it remained an area-of-effect ability.

Consequently, he began training his Observation Haki and Armament Haki.

Observation Haki, as the name implies, is a form of sensory perception; when trained to a high level, one can even predict the future.

However, it seemed Conrad had possessed a sliver of this ability since infancy, often rolling away to dodge the grasp of adults trying to pet him.

During his youth, while exploring and practicing light-body techniques at construction sites, he had repeatedly encountered crises and narrowly escaped death, though that is a story for another time.

Thus, he could now vaguely sense the aura of his surroundings—for instance, someone approaching within fifteen meters.

At this moment, while fishing, he sensed someone drawing near, so he picked up a lobster from his iron bucket and flicked it behind him.

But the expected scream did not come.

Conrad was puzzled. Who else would sneak up on him from behind without saying a word, if not Kujaku? Had he hit the wrong person?

He turned his head and found himself staring into a pair of rose-red eyes.

Ain held the lobster in her hand, her gentle, soft face framed by the shadows of her sea-blue curls as she watched him quietly.

Conrad's face flushed, and he stood up with a start. "Sorry."

Ain clutched the lobster, walked to the shore, and crouched down, her sandals pressing against the edge of the reef. "Can I let it go?"

This was Conrad's only catch; he had intended to show it off when Kujaku arrived, but he still nodded and said, "Go ahead."

Ain released her grip. The lobster dropped into the seawater, flicked its tail, and darted away, vanishing without a trace. "Why did you ask for my name yesterday? What is your objective?"

"Objective?" Conrad hadn't thought that far ahead. He rarely overthought things; once a person's thoughts became complex, their movements tended to become clumsy.

He reached out his hand, baring his teeth in a grin. "Let's be friends."

Ain did not reach out. She looked at his fishing rod and asked, "Why do you fish?"

"To save money and add to my meals." Conrad retracted his hand. He would only offer his goodwill once; if the other party didn't appreciate it, he would withdraw it. This was the survival rule of an orphan.

The sea breeze, carrying the scent of volcanic ash, blew past, stirring the undulating waves. A flock of mottled birds flew overhead, and neither of them spoke again.

Time passed—a minute, an hour—until evening fell. Conrad packed his bucket and wound his line, but Ain remained seated by the reef, gazing toward the horizon of the sea.

Only when Conrad picked up his bucket to leave did Ain suddenly speak: "You didn't catch anything. Don't you feel like you're wasting your time?"

"You watched for the whole afternoon." Conrad walked away.

Ain suddenly looked lonely, murmuring as if in a dream: "I have plenty of time."

Conrad returned to the dormitory.

He knew Ain was dangerous.

As a user of the Return-Return Fruit, she could revert the state of anything she touched by twelve years. In other words, if she touched him, he might drop dead on the spot.

She was a student of Zephyr's final elite training ship class. Three years later, the entire ship would be slaughtered by a mysterious Shichibukai, leaving her as one of only two survivors.

Of course, Conrad wasn't the least bit intimidated about being on this ship. Three years was plenty of time—so much time that he felt he could roast a Blue Dragon and use it as seasoning.

He stretched, drank a large glass of milk and a full bottle of water; after all, if he didn't drink enough, he would wake up parched in the middle of the night, interrupting his sleep progress.

Hooking his legs onto the crossbar of the lower bunk, Conrad hung upside down and closed his eyes to sleep. It was crucial time for growth and development.

Whenever the blood rushed to his brain, he felt his wisdom surging, sparks of inspiration flying, and a profound sense of security.

--

--

The three residents of Dorm 108 left their room together for the first time in a long while.

They had all passed the first assessment.

Drake's Doriki was the second highest in the entire group, exactly four hundred, second only to the Prince. However, according to him, he had held back; he didn't want to be too flashy or attract too much attention.

With the Ancient Zoan Allosaurus fruit and a physique that was already two meters tall at nineteen, his strength was terrifying.

He was growing even faster than Conrad, who was still in his adolescent growth spurt, which didn't make much sense.

The three entered the training grounds. This time, the large plaza was much emptier. The Devil Fruit users and the marines were all standing in vertical rows beneath the oath-taking platform.

As luck would have it, Kujaku was standing to Conrad's left. She held her Combat Whip, snapping it with a rhythmic crack while giving him a mischievous, wicked smile.

Conrad knew full well that if he were struck by that whip, he would be forced to obey her commands, but he always had a stubborn streak—he wanted to use his own willpower to resist such crooked, deviant abilities.

Regarding this, he only had sixty percent confidence. Honestly, that was the lowest he had ever felt in his life; he usually had seventy percent confidence in his scratch-off lottery tickets, and he rarely ever walked away empty-handed.

Zzzzt~

The sound of a crackling microphone echoed.

"Testing, testing~ Boom!"

A tall, thin, dark-skinned man appeared at the north gate. He shouted twice, but despite the sound, it was as if no one heard him. He then slapped the microphone hard, the feedback screeching and causing everyone's eardrums to ache.

Only after hearing the sound did the man remove his earplugs and blindfold, walking step by step from the gate toward the oath-taking platform.

Yawning, legs dragging, he looked utterly listless and slack.

Standing in the center of the stage, he scratched his messy, curly hair and said, "I am Vice Admiral Kuzan, codename Aokiji. Just use the codename. I'll be in charge of the second and third rounds. Honestly, I didn't really want to take this job. What a drag. Sigh~"

Conrad didn't care for people who lacked professional conduct, as they tended to set a bad example for those who followed.

Yet, aside from Sengoku, the Aokiji before him was, without a doubt, the strongest person he had encountered thus far.

Even Zephyr, having retreated to the second line to focus on teaching for too long, would likely be no match for Aokiji.

Standing at two meters ninety-eight, in his prime at thirty-six years old, his body overflowed with invisible Haki. Paired with the amphibious Logia-type Ice-Ice Fruit, he had almost no weaknesses.

After Aokiji finished his introduction, the field fell silent. As he breathed, he exhaled icy mist that frosted his hair, and he even began to snore with a snot bubble, acting as if he had fallen asleep and didn't care about anything.

The Prince glanced at Conrad and saw him raising an eyebrow.

He had a hunch that the other man would definitely speak up to show off, so he decisively shouted first, "Sir! Please wake up! It's time to start the match!"

"Achoo!" Aokiji lowered his head and let out a sneeze, blasting a cloud of icy mist hundreds of meters that hit the Prince with pinpoint accuracy, freezing him into a block of ice.

He rubbed his messy hair and nose. "Where was I? Oh right, do you guys want to consider quitting now?"

At these words, the field erupted in an uproar, the marines bewildered and confused.

Fullbody raised a fist and said, "Sir! We worked so hard to pass the assessment, how could we possibly surrender before it even begins!"

"Young people are so hot-blooded. I used to believe in... Burning Justice, too." Aokiji straightened his suit shirt and stood up straight.

"The second round of elimination and the third round of practical sea combat are combined. In other words, those who pass must follow us to execute the mission for the third round."

"We are veteran marines who have been through many battles! We aren't afraid of practical sea combat; we've caught plenty of pirates."

A man dressed in foreign attire with a braided ponytail spoke up; his arms possessed two elbow joints, marking him as a member of the Longarm Tribe.

Aokiji rubbed his forehead, as if he had expected this, and said, word by word, "This practical mission isn't against ordinary pirates; it is a high-level mission for the Navy."

"We are heading to the West Blue to punish the Five Families of the Mafia." Ice crystals spread from the center of his leather shoes, and in the blink of an eye, the vast training ground was covered in frost, as if plunged into the dead of winter.