Set Sail Together, IBM (Please Bookmark)

Buggy slapped Shanks on the shoulder with one hand and pointed at the sky with the other. As the rain intensified, a blurry outline became increasingly distinct.

A humanoid silhouette could vaguely be seen flapping its wings before vanishing once more.

"A Devil Fruit user?" Shanks muttered as he watched the sky.

Yet no matter how the two searched, they could not find where the invisible thing had come from or what it was connected to.

Half a day later, the rain stopped and the clouds scattered.

The setting sun hung low where the horizon met the sea, crimson clouds dyeing the sky.

The sails billowed in the wind with a constant whooshing sound. Standing by the railing, Wude caught a fleeting glimpse of an island they passed—and the sight of someone there left him dumbfounded:

A childish face, short black hair topped with two little white buns. Dressed in pink, he danced alongside a dance instructor, occasionally batting his eyes at the people around him in a sickening manner.

Huh, Bentham's profile said he was from the East Blue...

Could that really be him? At such a young age, his style was already this overpowering?

The sailboat sped ahead at full speed, returning to the Oykot Kingdom several days later.

After stepping onto the beach, Wude let the sea breeze brush against his face. He headed into the small island, passed through the forest, and ran along a path until he reached a villa.

"Come with me, cough cough..."

A hunched old man stood at the door. His aged hand beckoned to the newcomer before he turned and headed into the courtyard.

Wude followed him.

"You saw Roger die?"

"Yes."

The old man nodded, stared at the sky, and remained silent for a long time.

After a long while.

"I found you a teacher. He can teach you swordsmanship, marksmanship, and hand-to-hand combat. What you learn is your choice, and whichever path you take in the future is up to you."

"Thank you, Grandpa Greg."

The old man nodded faintly, hunched over as he slowly walked into the villa.

He suddenly stopped and hurriedly called out, "One more thing—make me a cup of tea."

Wude quickly went inside and made tea for the old man.

Just as the old man climbed the wooden stairs, he suddenly looked back at Wude. In that instant, he seemed to perk right up.

"Tonight, make steamed fish, shrimp with bok choy, hot-and-sour potatoes, spicy chicken, mapo tofu... A dozen or so dishes will do." The old man rattled off a long string of dish names in one breath. Only after seeing Wude nod did he happily go upstairs.

"..." Wude wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Sometimes, he truly wondered whether this was really a frail, sickly old man.

With an appetite like that, if Grandpa Greg said he had been a master in his youth, Wude would believe him.

After delivering the tea to the old man, Wude stood in the kitchen as the chopping sounds rang out.

When he had first awakened in this world, the "new memories" in his mind had contained another name.

But he still preferred using his own name. There was no dramatic "From now on, you'll be called XXX" development.

At dinner, Wude watched the old man cough while relentlessly sweeping through the dishes on the table, and once again imagined that he was some hidden powerhouse.

Nothing happened that night. The next morning.

A cool breeze drifted through the air as Wude sat by the window reading.

The courtyard's iron gate opened, and a burly figure strode inside. He stopped in the yard, dressed in a dark purple martial arts uniform, with gray-white hair combed back into a single ponytail.

Wude walked out of the house and approached him, recognizing him as the teacher Greg had hired for him.

"Hello, Teacher Upton."

"Mhm. What do you want to learn?"

Wude possessed a Famous Scene Check-In system. His first check-in had been Roger's death, and he had received the Demi-Human Bloodline.

Ajin were a new species from the anime Ajin that could not die.

Ajin could not be killed. As long as they died, they would be reborn and restored to their original state. Some big shots even used suicide to solve all sorts of problems.

For example, if someone hit them with a tranquilizer dart, they could simply raise a gun and shoot themselves, restoring themselves to normal.

They also possessed Black Ghost assistants, similar to clones—IBM, jokingly called Kuroh—with considerable combat strength.

Wude's Kuroh, however, was like that certain big shot's and possessed a pair of wings.

Still, from beginning to end, Wude believed that this was only one part of his strength.

He needed to train his own body, study martial arts to temper his will, reflexes, speed, and strength, and learn from his seniors to absorb their experience and lessons.

Only by combining that with his own abilities and fighting alongside Kuroh could he possess the strength he truly ought to have.

So his choice was... I'll learn it all!

Upton stood in the courtyard, watching the boy run laps around it, and nodded in satisfaction.

"After you finish running, take the bamboo sword I gave you. I'll teach you the basics of swordsmanship."

Sweating profusely, Wude nodded eagerly, full of motivation.

He remembered that final game of Yu Yu Hakusho he had played with his friend who had leukemia in his previous life.

Wude had button-mashed so wildly that he made his friend cry. Later, after his friend had "gone," Wude cried his eyes out while staring at the game cartridge.

He also remembered taking down the sword his grandfather had hung on the wall in his previous life and playing with it for a while.

Then his father had beaten him until he ran all over the village, wailing at the top of his lungs.

A fierce kick in combat, a flash of cold light from a sword swing—what young man did not love such things?

Day after day, under Upton's guidance, Wude poured all his energy into study and training, day and night.

Of course, combat techniques had priorities. Swordsmanship was his primary method, while fighting techniques served as support, making his attacks and defenses stronger and sharper.

"Temper your sword forms over and over again. Carve the fundamentals into your body until they become part of your reflexes. This is only the beginning!"

"Next, you need to spar with others, constantly discover your shortcomings, and wield your swordsmanship more flexibly."

Under the blazing sun, Upton watched Wude swing his sword again and again, correcting him as he did.

"A swordsman has strong arms. That is an advantage. To become stronger, you can try learning some fighting techniques as support."

Time passed, and four years went by in the blink of an eye.

Wude was now sixteen years old and stood 1.9 meters tall. In this world, that was neither tall nor short—perfectly unremarkable.

Upton had taught him everything he could.

Autumn winds sent fallen leaves fluttering down. A tall, upright young figure stood in the courtyard, a long sword hanging at his waist. He walked out and closed the iron gate.

The old man had passed away half a year ago. The day before, he had happily praised Wude's cooking. The next day, he had fallen asleep and never again tasted the boy's dishes.

At sunset, Wude stood before the old man's grave, while behind him stood his teacher Upton, coughing up blood without end.

His teacher was old as well. His body was no longer upright, old injuries had begun tormenting him, and he had grown thinner by the day since a year ago. The exhaustion in his eyes could not be hidden.

His teacher jokingly said, "I have to keep up with his pace."

"..." Wude looked at Upton, whose body was beginning to weaken. He was about to join the Navy, yet he could not stop worrying about him.

"...Sigh." Upton shook his head and sighed at the gravestone. His back bent a little further. "No one can escape birth, aging, illness, and death."

As he spoke, he lifted a leg and kicked Wude in the ass, driving him away.

"...Please take care of yourself." Wude took a deep breath, spoke to his teacher, then turned and left.

Smack!

"Ahh—"

Wude clutched his head and turned around, looking at the old man who had silently appeared behind him. The old man's aged hand was still held in the position of having struck his forehead.

"Ah, I really am old. You spotted the sneak attack before I even pulled my hand back." Upton grinned mischievously, then his expression turned serious. "Joking aside, your teacher has one last thing to say."

Wude nodded, hoping to hear a few more words.

"A swordsman is like a blade forged through countless hammerings. Every method and purpose is meant to ultimately refine the sharpest form."

"I look forward to the day you forge your strongest sword and make your name known throughout the world."

The young man left his second hometown. The cold wind filled the sails, making them flap loudly, while the old man's voice still echoed in his ears.