Normal Treatment

The next day.

The Grand Line's sea lay tranquil, sunlight cutting the wave crests into shards of silver.

A small warship sailed steadily onward. It should have been an utterly ordinary day—

Until a commotion suddenly erupted inside the cabin.

"Hey—kid! Don't run around!!"

"Your wounds haven't healed yet!!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—how is this brat so strong?!"

"Stop him! Don't let him rush onto the deck!!"

Hurried footsteps, crashing impacts, and sharp intakes of breath mingled together, as if something feral had ripped apart the order of the ship.

On the deck.

Rock lounged in a sun chair, sunglasses on his face and a glass of juice in hand, looking as relaxed as if he were on vacation.

Not far away, Sakazuki stood bare-chested before a Seastone training post.

"Bang."

"Bang."

"Bang."

His fists struck again and again, each impact muffled and restrained.

The skin over his knuckles had long since split open. Blood dripped through his fingers onto the deck and scattered in the sea breeze, yet he did not pause even once.

Just then—

"Boom!"

The cabin door was violently smashed open.

A small but exceptionally sturdy figure burst out of the chaos.

His hair was cropped short, and bandages covered his upper body. Blood still seeped from his wounds.

It was Bullet.

Like a beast that had just broken out of an iron cage, he scanned his surroundings with wary, savage eyes. The instant he spotted the leisurely white-clad figure at the far end of the deck, he bolted straight for the railing without hesitation.

More than ten Navy soldiers immediately moved in to surround him, but their reactions were clearly half a beat too slow.

—He was a child.

—And a child with severe wounds that had yet to heal.

They did not dare strike with