Smoker, the One Left Behind

The hellish pure physical training lasted for two weeks.

When Chief Instructor Zephyr gathered the recruits, now noticeably more muscular, at the harbor, nearly everyone assumed an even crueler second round of physical hell was about to begin.

However, Zephyr pointed to a massive Navy transport ship beyond the harbor.

"Starting today, you will undergo two weeks of wilderness survival training on a deserted island, with no supplies!"

A map of a vicious-looking island lit up on the huge screen behind him.

"Our destination is the uninhabited island three hundred nautical miles southeast of Headquarters—Gigantia!" Zephyr stepped forward and pointed at the map with his riding crop.

"The voyage will take one day and one night. The island's climate is unpredictable, it is home to many unrecorded wild beasts, and occasionally, some fools of pirates use it as a temporary base."

"I'll make this clear first," Zephyr said in an icy, emotionless voice that sent a chill through everyone present. "We will take you to the island and immediately return. Two weeks later, we will come back here to pick up the survivors... or your corpses."

He swept his gaze over the crowd before adding the most crucial rule.

"For this training, everyone from Monster Class and Elite Class will participate. You will operate in teams of two or three. Anyone who has not found teammates before boarding will be disqualified and sent to Reserve Class!"

That final rule exploded through the crowd like a bomb.

The previously lifeless formation immediately erupted into commotion.

The strong began sizing each other up, searching for equally powerful teammates.

Those with average performances, meanwhile, looked anxious as they scanned the area.

Amid the chaos, a figure squeezed through the crowd like a startled golden retriever and hurried straight toward Rayne at the back of the formation.

"Rayne!" Rosinante stopped before him, panting heavily, his face full of nervous sincerity. "Um... have you... have you picked your teammates yet? If not, could you... could you team up with me?"

Rayne looked at his face, so sincere it was almost foolish, and nodded calmly without hesitation. "Sure."

He did not dislike this clumsy golden retriever who had such a warm heart.

Besides, having a harmless-looking teammate would make it easier for him to hide himself.

"Great!" Rosinante visibly relaxed, a brilliant smile spreading across his face.

That evening, in Dorm 307.

Rayne casually stuffed a few wilderness supplies into a backpack—rope, flint, water purification tablets, and so on. Naturally, this was only for show.

His real supplies had long since been stored in his Storage Ring.

Nearby, Smoker paced restlessly around the room.

During the afternoon's team selection, he had stood there with his arms folded, wearing an expression that said, "Which of you trash is worthy of me?" The result was that everyone silently avoided that "humanoid volcano" and formed their own teams.

After a long silence, Smoker finally could not hold back. He stopped pacing and stammered in an extremely unnatural voice, "Hey... Rayne, did you... find a team?"

Without looking up, Rayne checked the buckle on his backpack and casually replied, "Yeah. Rosinante invited me."

Smoker's face instantly turned livid.

He had assumed that with Rayne's solitary personality, Rayne would surely be the one left over too.

As though he had eyes in the back of his head, Rayne kept moving his hands as he hit the mark.

"Let me guess. Did you stand around for ages waiting for someone to beg you to team up, only to find that everyone except you had already formed a group?"

"Bullshit!" Smoker bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "It's because I think those worthless losers aren't fit to be on my team!"

The smile on Rayne's face deepened. He turned and leaned against the table beside the bed, looking at Smoker with an expression that said, "I get it," before drawling out his words.

"Oh? Is that so? Then why not go find your little sweetheart, Hina? From what I can tell, she's plenty strong enough to match you."

"You...!" Smoker's face instantly flushed as red as liver, veins throbbing at his temples.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles cracked, his eyes looking as though he wanted to devour Rayne alive.

But after recalling that punch to the stomach, Smoker still held himself back.

Rayne turned around and saw Smoker's aggrieved look—ready to explode but too afraid to provoke him—and secretly found it amusing. Still, he knew when to stop.

He shrugged and spoke as though talking to himself. "Still, our team is short one person. If you really can't find anyone and don't want to go to Reserve Class... I don't mind bringing along one more deadweight."

The dorm fell into a long, suffocating silence.

Just when Rayne thought the guy might stand there all night, Smoker finally moved.

He suddenly turned around, facing away from Rayne. As if sulking at the wall, he squeezed out a nearly inaudible, mumbled sentence through clenched teeth.

"...Then... count me in... all right..."

His voice was as faint as the buzz of a mosquito.

Rayne's hand did not pause as he turned a page, as if he had heard nothing at all.

Just as Smoker began to wonder whether Rayne had missed his request—

"Mm, no problem."

Early the next morning, the enormous Navy transport ship set sail on schedule.

After a voyage lasting one day and one night, a gigantic island shrouded in mist appeared at the edge of the recruits' vision.

The transport ship stopped several nautical miles from the island's shore.

"Attention, everyone!" Zephyr's voice echoed throughout the ship through the broadcast Den Den Mushi. "Now, take your backpacks, jump down, and swim to shore yourselves! Training begins at this very moment!"

The moment the order was given, the deck erupted into chaos.

Most of the recruits jumped into the sea without the slightest hesitation, like dumplings being dropped into a pot.

The handful of Devil Fruit users among them, however, stopped where they were with ugly expressions.

On this sea, the abilities they were so proud of had become their greatest burden.

In the end, every one of them relied on their teammates, using all sorts of methods to paddle awkwardly toward shore.

Only then did everyone truly understand the meaning behind Zephyr's rule requiring teams—on the sea, even the strongest ability user needed companions they could entrust their back to.

"Damn it!" Smoker stared at the bottomless sea, his face darkening to the extreme.

He could turn himself into an element and fly low above the water, but it consumed enormous stamina. If he ran out of strength and fell into the sea halfway across, death would be his only outcome.

While he was still hesitating, Rayne had already secured his backpack and said calmly, "Grab my shoulder."

Smoker's face instantly turned red as liver. "What the hell do you take me for?!"

"A landlubber who can't swim," Rayne answered simply. "Or are you planning to wait here for the instructors to throw you in?"

Smoker instinctively wanted to retort, but could not think of anything to say. In the end, he reluctantly stretched out his hand and placed it on Rayne's shoulder.

Seeing this, Rosinante offered to carry Rayne's backpack for him, but Rayne smiled easily and declined his kindness.

Dragging Smoker, the deadweight, Rayne jumped into the sea without the slightest effort and swam steadily and efficiently toward shore.

A few minutes later, the three of them successfully reached a beach on the island.

The moment he came ashore, Rosinante collapsed onto the ground from exhaustion, gasping for breath.

Smoker, meanwhile, knelt on one knee and coughed violently, spitting out the seawater he had swallowed.

As a Devil Fruit user, the sensation of being completely drained of strength after soaking in seawater was truly unpleasant.

Once Smoker had recovered a little, he glanced at the endless primeval forest before them. Then his gaze settled on Rayne, who looked utterly composed, as though he had merely taken a stroll, and he asked stiffly:

"Hey, what do we do now?"

Clearly, after this period of "friendly" interaction, he had already subconsciously regarded his seemingly "ordinary" roommate as the one with the final say in their three-man team.