What Happened to the Three Instructors?

Early in the morning three days later, Jack pushed open the training room door.

The corridor was empty. Hairt leaned against the wall at the corner, holding his Iron Whip. When he saw Jack emerge, he switched the whip from his left hand to his right and started walking without a word. Jack followed him through the main building's lobby and out the training camp's back entrance.

The enclosed testing facility stood north of the training camp, a separate gray-white building with no windows in its outer walls, only a heavy iron door. The door had two layers, iron plating outside and rubber inside, which blocked most sounds when closed. Hairt unlocked it, pushed it open, and stepped aside to let Jack enter.

The testing facility was much larger inside than Jack had imagined. The rectangular space was roughly half the size of a soccer field. All four walls were covered with equally thick layers of rubber, and several rows of fluorescent lights were set into the corners, casting a stark white glow. The ceiling was high, at least eight meters, with a row of ventilation fans humming overhead.

Tsuru was already standing in the center.

She had traded her white officer's uniform for a dark blue Marine training uniform, with one collar button undone and her sleeves rolled up to her forearms. Her hair was still pinned at the back of her head with that black hairpin, a few loose strands hanging beside her ears. She held a clipboard with a form attached, and a pen was tucked behind her ear.

Two record keepers stood beside her, holding stopwatches and notebooks.

Jack entered the facility and stopped three meters in front of Tsuru. Hairt went to a corner and leaned against the wall, his Iron Whip tucked under one arm and his arms folded across his chest.

Tsuru's pen paused over the paper. "We originally arranged for three instructors. But when Garp heard you wanted to graduate early, he took over. He wants to test you himself."

Jack's eyebrows twitched ever so slightly, but Tsuru caught it. The corners of her lips lifted. Little brat. So much for acting cool. She closed the clipboard, tucked it under her arm, and turned toward the small door at the side of the facility.

The door opened.

Garp stepped through with a rice cracker between his teeth. He wasn't wearing his uniform, just a gray sleeveless tank top that exposed two absurdly thick arms. His muscles gleamed darkly under the lights, and old scars covered his skin—horizontal, vertical, diagonal—as though something had hacked at him over and over.

He chewed the rice cracker, the crunching unusually clear in the quiet facility. Stopping beside Tsuru, he stuffed the last piece into his mouth, chewed twice, swallowed, then brushed the crumbs from his hands.

"So you're that Jack." Garp's voice rumbled from his throat, carrying a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny. His gaze swept Jack from head to toe, as though inspecting a weapon for wear.

Tsuru opened her clipboard and set her pen to the paper. "The rules are simple. Three minutes. Knock Garp down, or last three minutes without losing consciousness. Then you pass."

Jack looked at Garp, and Garp looked back. Five meters separated them. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and air whispered through the vents.

"Knock Garp down? Is that even a reasonable thing to say?"

Garp assumed no particular stance. His hands hung at his sides, his knees slightly bent and his center of gravity lowered. He looked casual, like someone waiting for breakfast in the kitchen after a nap.

"You've practiced the Six Powers?" Garp asked.

"Yes."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

The corner of Garp's mouth shifted slightly. Then his foot moved.

"Let's test them."

Soru.

Garp vanished from five meters away and appeared in front of Jack. Before Jack's eyes could process it, Garp's fist was already upon him.

Jack instinctively raised his arms to block.

The fist slammed into Jack's arms.

At the instant of contact, Jack heard a dull boom, as though something had been compressed to its limit and burst. His body sprang off the ground, both feet lifting as he flew backward more than ten meters and slammed into the rubber-covered wall. Under his weight and the force of the impact, the padding caved in deeply with a heavy crash.

Fuck. Taken out in one hit.

He slid down the wall and dropped to one knee, bracing a hand against the floor as pain surged through his back and chest. Hardened skin had blocked the punch's direct damage, but the impact had passed through his skin and muscles to strike his bones. His breastbone ached as though something had rammed it hard, and his ribs made faint scraping sounds when he breathed.

He lifted his head and looked at Garp, who stood where he had been a moment ago.

He had taken plenty of punches, but never one like that. Garp's punch had no flashy technique, no Devil Fruit ability, not even Haki. Pure physical strength, a pure fist, pure impact.

Jack stood. His knees buckled briefly, then straightened.

Garp stood five meters away, watching him with his head tilted. "You can still stand? Not bad, then."

Jack drew a deep breath. The pain in his chest remained, but his breathing wasn't obstructed. He rolled his shoulders, and his hardened skin clicked softly at the joints. His right fist clenched and relaxed, his knuckles cracking twice against his palm.

"Here I come," Garp said.

His foot moved again.

This time, Jack caught it through Kami-e.

He slipped half a step to the right. Garp's fist brushed the fabric over his left shoulder, its wind snapping his uniform. Letting the momentum of his dodge turn his body, Jack clenched his right fist and swung back at Garp's side.

When his fist was ten centimeters from Garp's ribs, Garp vanished. Soru activated again, and he appeared three meters behind Jack.

"Good Kami-e," Garp's voice came from behind him. "Still too slow."

Jack didn't turn around. His foot drove against the floor, activating Soru. He vanished from in front of Garp and appeared on his left, his right fist carrying his whole body's momentum toward Garp's shoulder. As the fist descended, Garp raised his left hand and opened it, palm facing Jack's knuckles, as though catching a thrown ball.

The fist struck his palm with a dull thud. Garp's hand didn't budge, his shoulder didn't dip, and his balance didn't shift. His palm absorbed Jack's impact as though Jack had punched a mountain.

Jack didn't stop. He used the recoil to retreat, twisting in midair and kicking his left foot against the air to activate Geppo. He sprang three meters above the floor, kicked again to move to Garp's right, then clenched his left fist and aimed for Garp's temple.

Garp tilted his head slightly, and Jack's fist brushed past his hair. The wind lifted it without touching his skin.

Jack landed, bending his knees slightly to steady himself. His breathing had grown a little heavier, the injury on his back still throbbed, and his breastbone made faint scraping sounds with every breath. But he didn't stop. Activating Soru a second time, he appeared directly in front of Garp and thrust his right fist forward.

Finger Pistol.

He pressed his index and middle fingers together and stabbed toward Garp's chest. His fingertips shot out with a sharp whistle, as though something had been torn apart. Garp didn't dodge. Jack's fingertips struck his breastbone as though hitting a steel plate.

His fingers bounced off. The instant his hardened skin met Garp's chest muscles, Jack felt a tremendous recoil travel through his fingers into his wrist, jarring his forearm numb. His index and middle fingers were uninjured, but fine white marks appeared in the hardened skin over his knuckles, as though it had been rubbed with sandpaper.

Garp raised his right hand, spread his fingers, and slapped Jack's shoulder.

Jack flew from the spot, rolled twice across the rubber floor, and landed on his knees. His left shoulder hurt as though something had struck it hard. The joint clicked, then settled back into place.

"Your Finger Pistol packs a decent punch." Garp stood in the center of the facility, hands hanging at his sides.

How did that saying go? An old man toying with a little kid.

Jack raised his right fist, a pale red light spreading over his knuckles. The Blade of the Ruined King activated. He pushed off the floor, used Soru, and appeared at Garp's right.

He was noticeably faster than before. With Ghost activated, his movements became smoother, as though something were pushing him forward. He flashed from Garp's right to his back, from his back to his left, then from his left to his front. His movements followed no pattern, like a lynx leaping around an iron cage.

Garp didn't move. He remained where he was, hands at his sides, watching Jack flicker around him. Whenever Jack approached, he shifted slightly or raised a hand to deflect his fist. His movements were small, barely perceptible, yet every one blocked Jack's attack with precision.

Jack's fists struck Garp's palms, the backs of his hands, and his forearms, only to bounce away each time. But the Blade of the Ruined King's passive effect was working. With every punch he caught, Garp felt a faint trace of life energy being drawn away. The loss was almost imperceptible, as though something inside him were slowly seeping out. Garp narrowed his eyes, glanced down at his palm, then looked back at Jack.

"That ability of yours," Garp rumbled, "is interesting."

Jack's fist came again. This time he aimed for Garp's ribs, opening with Finger Pistol before changing to a punch midway, driving the pale red glow of Decay toward Garp's right ribs. Garp turned slightly and raised his left hand from below, pressing his palm against his side to block Jack's fist.

His hand was pushed back one centimeter. It was a tiny movement, but it had moved.

Jack kicked his left foot against the air, activating Geppo and springing from in front of Garp to above his head. He raised his right leg and kicked at the back of Garp's neck. Rankyaku. A blast shot from his foot, its vacuum blade slicing through the air toward the side of Garp's neck.

Garp tilted his head left. The vacuum blade grazed his right shoulder and opened a slit in his tank top. The torn fabric curled back, exposing a faint white mark on the muscle beneath.

Jack landed and bent his knees slightly to steady himself. His breathing was much heavier now. His back still hurt, and his left shoulder joint made tiny sounds whenever he exerted himself. But his eyes never left Garp. Kami-e remained active, his body sensing Garp's every breath and every muscle contraction.

Two minutes had passed.

Garp took a step forward, his first deliberate advance. He went from stillness to motion in an instant, like a stone shot from a slingshot, appearing in front of Jack. He opened his right hand, held his fingers together, and drove his palm toward Jack's chest.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, activating hardened skin and Iron Body at once. Garp's palm struck his forearms with a dull boom, sending Jack sliding two meters across the rubber padding with a piercing squeal of soles against rubber. His arms went numb, and fine cracks appeared in the hardened skin on his forearms.

But he didn't fall.

He stepped half a pace back to steady himself. Then he moved, activating Soru and appearing at Garp's left, his right fist driving toward Garp's ribs. Garp deflected it with his left hand, but even as Jack's right fist bounced away, his left was already rising toward Garp's chin.

Garp leaned his head back, and Jack's left fist swept past his chin without touching it. But Jack had already raised his right foot. Rankyaku burst out at point-blank range, its vacuum blade slicing toward Garp's abdomen.

Garp slipped half a step backward. The vacuum blade cut through the tank top over his stomach, opening a slit that exposed the skin beneath.

"You've got enough power," Garp's voice came from ahead. "But you're running out of stamina."

Jack knew. His breathing grew heavier and heavier, the pain in his back worsened, and his left shoulder joint made a sound every time he exerted himself. The Blade of the Ruined King continued to work, but Garp's vitality was too powerful. The percentage-based drain would have seriously injured anyone else, yet to Garp it was barely a scratch.

He couldn't stop. He couldn't retreat. He had to last three minutes.

His body sprang off the floor. Activating Geppo, he kicked repeatedly through the air, rising from three meters to five, then from five to eight. He changed direction in midair and plunged downward, his right fist carrying his full weight toward the top of Garp's head.

"Take this! Infinite Fist Bone!"

Garp looked utterly baffled. If yours is Infinite Fist Bone, what's mine supposed to be?

Garp didn't dodge. He raised his right hand, spread his fingers with his palm facing upward, and caught Jack's fist. Jack's impact struck his palm like a rock hitting water, sending out an invisible ripple. Garp's hand sank half an inch, then stopped.

Jack hung in midair, his fist supported by Garp's palm, unable to move forward or back. He swung his left fist at Garp's temple, and Garp raised his left hand to catch that one too.

Both fists were trapped in Garp's hands, like two flies pinched between his fingers. Jack struggled in the air, his feet kicking against it as he tried to break free, but Garp's fingers didn't budge.

Just as Garp raised his right foot to give Jack a kick.

"Time's up." Tsuru's voice came from the edge of the facility, quiet but perfectly clear.

Garp released him. Jack dropped from midair and landed on both feet, his knees bending before he straightened them. His hands hung at his sides, fingers trembling slightly and arm muscles twitching. He breathed as heavily as though he had just run a marathon, his chest heaving and a dull ache pulsing through his injured back with every breath.

Garp looked down at his tank top. The slit Rankyaku had cut across his abdomen was still there, its edges curled outward. Then he examined the white marks on the back of his hand, faint traces left by Jack's Decay, as though something had lightly scraped him.

He turned, walked over to Tsuru, pulled a rice cracker from his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed twice before heading toward the small door. At the doorway, he stopped without looking back.

"After he graduates, send him to me for a few days first."

Tsuru stood at the edge of the facility, holding her clipboard as she wrote a few words. She capped her pen and looked up at Jack.

"You passed." Her voice was level. "Your transfer orders will be issued tomorrow. Headquarters captain, special duties."

Jack stood in the center of the facility, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the rubber padding. His arms still trembled, his back still hurt, and his breathing hadn't fully settled. But he stood straight, knees unbent and shoulders squared.

Hairt came over from the corner with the Iron Whip in hand and stopped in front of Jack. He studied him for two seconds, then rested the whip on his shoulder.

"I thought you wouldn't last." Hairt's voice was quiet.

Jack didn't answer.

Jack was the only one left in the facility. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and air whispered through the vents. He stood in the center, sweat dripping from his forehead onto the floor.

He looked down at his hands. His fingers still trembled, though less than before. He clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking twice. Then he opened them and clenched them again.