Chapter 11

-And that fist had actually remained an inch away from him the whole time.

"What you lack isn't strength. It's knowing how to use it."

The little girl standing before him sounded rather pleased with herself.

As Rossi rolled over and sat up, looking ready to listen seriously, her eyes curved into crescents, and she continued explaining with gestures:

"Technique can multiply limited strength, even let you do things you couldn't otherwise."

"With that punch just now, the power rose from the soles of my feet, passed through the twist of my waist, and only then reached my fingertips.

That's why even a child can strike hard enough to tear through the air."

"And you? Not only have you failed to master your body's rhythm, but when you get nervous, your movements go awry and leave even bigger openings."

Sister Tsuru, did you see that?

I can teach someone properly too-

"What are you hanging around with that little runt for?"

After the lesson, Doffy looked up from the nautical chart he was studying in the cabin at the bow.

Rossi pushed the door open and entered, soaked through, his bangs plastered to his skin.

The brows behind the sunglasses furrowed.

"Don't underestimate her. Right now, she's stronger than we are.

Maybe someday..."

She'll be stronger than you, too.

"So what?"

The boy in sunglasses pulled a glass bottle from his clothes and shook it in the light. "Found it among the navigator's old things.

Tested it on rats. Colorless, odorless. Mix it into the food-"

"Stop."

Rossi pulled a towel off the wall and scrubbed his face hard.

"Don't take things that far.

We might have dealings with her again."

"Besides, that ** last time-we won in the end because of my idea, right?"

The ship rocked. Rossi let go of the towel and sank his teeth into a piece of dried meat.

A salty, fishy taste spread across his tongue.

If he hadn't opened the lower hold ahead of time to release the prisoners, then fired several shots from the shadows when the navigator shouted, "Clear the field,"

they would have been the ones floating on the sea now.

Space was tight, and the piled-up remains would rot sooner or later.

So a great many bodies that had lost their warmth were pushed into the waves to become a feast for the fish.

"I don't expect you to do everything my way,"

Rossi said, swallowing his food. "But don't touch anyone else on this ship-as long as they haven't bared their fangs."

The sailors left on deck were ordinary people who wanted nothing more than food and shelter.

After the navigator fell in a pool of blood, no one dared defy Rossi and Doffy again.

The passengers huddled in corners, hoping only to reach land soon and end this nightmarish voyage.

In truth, the ship was already in their hands.

To put it bluntly-everyone with both courage and ability had already become fish bait.

The only two they needed to watch were the scruffy swordsman and Gion, the girl in the pink hood.

"Threats should be rooted out early."

Doffy adjusted his sunglasses.

To him, sharing a room with someone stronger was a danger in itself.

"But if Gion hadn't stepped in that day, the navigator's dying counterattack might well have injured us."

Rossi stretched his arms, soundless ripples already covering the surrounding cabin walls. "As long as 'that identity' stays hidden, ordinary people won't pick a fight with us. The Marines certainly won't."

In this era, the Marines still represented order most of the time.

And Gion was undoubtedly one of them.

That day, she had plunged into the fight and severed the navigator's arm and head with a flash of her blade-looking back now, he was almost certain it had been the technique called "Soru"

at work.

After seeking her guidance over the past few days, Rossi was even more certain she knew another technique: Kami-e.

Because even when he used his silence ability to launch a surprise attack, he had never so much as touched the hem of her clothes.

"Doffy, not everyone in this world is an enemy. There are people we can stand beside..."

"You're still the same, Rossi."

The corner of Doffy's mouth twitched.

The past several years had already twisted his understanding into a misshapen knot. "There are only family and enemies in this world."

"I promise I won't touch those passengers and sailors."

"But expecting me to mingle with them and laugh like you do-"

He shook his head. "I can't."

Rossi tried to picture Doflamingo throwing an arm around an ordinary person's shoulders, then gave up.

It really was hard to imagine.

"Since you brought up 'family,' it's time we thought about recruiting people."

He looked out the porthole at the rolling, ink-dark sea.

The ship docked at dusk.

Rossi stood by the railing, his gaze sweeping over the ordinary sailors on deck.

These people couldn't stay any longer-the suspicion in Doflamingo's eyes had already flared into fire. If this dragged on, no one knew when blood might spill.

He trusted no one but Rossi now.

We should be meeting those four soon, shouldn't we?

The sticky one, the gravel-voiced one, the flashy swordsman, and the silent stick.

The names rolled across his tongue before he swallowed them back down.

By the time night crept in, the deck had been scrubbed until it shone.

Rossi sat on an overturned wooden barrel as figures gradually gathered around him.

Passengers, sailors-even Doflamingo stood with his arms folded in the mast's shadow, his lips pressed into a line.

"...The sea king could find no further excuse, so he ordered his guards to bring out a nine-pronged steel fork.

The captain took it, weighed it in his hand, and flicked his wrist, making its points hum.

'Light.'

He shook his head. 'Too light. It doesn't suit my hand.'

"The Dragon King laughed from his throne. 'Captain, that fork weighs thirty-six hundred jin. Only three or five people beneath the sea can wield it.'

"But the captain merely waved his hand. 'It doesn't suit me, and that's that.'"

His voice drifted through the evening breeze.

He was telling them how a navigator who had eaten a mythical Zoan Devil Fruit and become the Great Sage Equal to Heaven had crossed the waves in search of a master and thrown the Four Blues into chaos.

This world had no shortage of News Coo or Image Den Den Mushi, but good stories were rare-even the Marine publicity team's production, "Sora, Warrior of the Sea," could keep the North Blue talking for half a year. Naturally, his hodgepodge of Eastern myths held everyone's attention.

"...The queen leaned close to the Dragon King's ear. 'Husband, this captain strikes me as no ordinary person.'

'Isn't there an iron pillar holding the sea steady down in the depths? Just give him that.'

"The Dragon King frowned. 'That's an object for anchoring the sea. It's monstrously heavy. How could it serve as a weapon?'"

"The queen's eyes curved. 'Didn't he complain it was too light? Let him try.'

'If he can't move it, he'll be too embarrassed to pester us again. If he really does move it...'"

His voice stopped there.

Rossi hopped off the barrel and brushed the wood shavings from his trouser legs. "That's all for today."

A chorus of subdued tongue-clicking rose around him.

The story had stopped at the most tantalizing point, but the storyteller had already turned away. With their heads full of the Golden-Hooped Staff and the Dragon Kings of the Four Blues, everyone could only head into the cabins in twos and threes.

The deck soon emptied, leaving only the sea breeze moaning through the rigging.

Doflamingo stepped out of the shadows, casting him a sidelong look from behind his lenses. "A waste of breath.

What good does getting friendly with these people do?"

"It's not a waste."

Rossi shrugged. "Gion agreed to teach me hand-to-hand combat on the condition that she got to hear stories."

However formidable a little girl might be, deep down she still craved stories.

He looked toward the pitch-black sea. The distant harbor lights flickered like shattered stars.

The night was thick as ink, and a dull thud came from the deck.

The boy in sunglasses lay flat on his back, his chest heaving.

Silence shrouded the area, an invisible force swallowing every sound without disturbing those sleeping soundly in the cabins.

"I won."

Sitting nearby, Rossi panted, sweat dripping from his jaw.

He turned his head to look at Doffy lying on the deck.

"Now you should understand this isn't pointless."

Neither of them had ever received systematic combat training before. Every confrontation had relied on instinct.

Against untrained sailors, they could still gain the upper hand through speed and ferocity; against a truly trained opponent, however, things would be entirely different.

"Brute strength and courage alone won't take us very far."

Their physiques were outstanding among their peers, but compared with the monsters in the rumors-such as "Big Mom," who supposedly had never been wounded,

or Kaido, born with prodigious strength-the gap was as vast as that between clouds and mud.

For the weak to challenge the strong, they needed skill as well as willpower.

Willpower was something they had never lacked.

Skill, however, couldn't be acquired overnight.

"We'll have to find a teacher who knows what they're doing."

Rossi looked out at the pitch-black sea.

At most, he could learn a few basics from Gion.

Even if she was only a young girl, she couldn't possibly pass on everything she knew of secret teachings like the "Six Powers"

to them.

Besides, by his calculations, the ship would reach its destination in seven days at most.

However hard he worked over those few short days, he could only scratch the surface.

He thought of those pirate crews he had heard about-most of their members had received instruction from strict teachers since childhood and built solid foundations.

The current "Family,"

however, consisted of only two boys swinging their fists wildly through sheer ferocity.

By comparison, their situation was truly dire.

Several days earlier, there had been a brief discussion about that story.

"Besides, having a story to listen to gives everyone else a distraction."

That was what Rossi had said then. "Sailing is too dull. If they have nowhere to expend their energy and cause trouble, it won't do anyone any good."

"They'd dare?"

Doffy had sneered.

He had dared scheme against even those three difficult characters aboard the Pinta, let alone the small fry now on this ship.

"It's not about whether they'd dare. There's simply no need."

Rossi rubbed his chin. "Speaking of which, weren't you pretty absorbed in it yourself?"

"Hmph. I was merely looking for references for future operations-"

Attack the world's ** and ascend the Red Line.

If there was any lesson to draw from that story, perhaps it was to beware of opponents calling in help like "Tathagata"

after their defeat?

Rossi had rolled his eyes then, clenched his fists, and taken a stance.

"Come on, Doffy."

"Spar with me, and you'll know whether any of this has meaning."

Now, both boys on the deck were silent.

The sea breeze brushed past with its salty, fishy scent, and the mast creaked faintly.

At last, Doffy sat up, his sunglasses reflecting a faint gleam in the darkness.

"A martial arts instructor..."

He repeated the words softly. "Where do we find one?"

"We'll find a way."

Rossi stood and brushed nonexistent dust off his trousers. "Until then, we'll have to figure things out ourselves."

He held out his hand.

Doffy stared at it for two seconds, then took it and pulled himself to his feet.

"Keep going?"

The voice from behind the sunglasses betrayed no emotion.

"Keep going."

Silence settled over the deck again, broken only by the faint swish of fists and feet through the air and the occasional stifled grunt.

The night deepened, and sparse starlight fell over the two of them, stretching their shadows until they overlapped, then parted again.

The distant horizon remained pitch-black, like a lurking beast.

The ship rocked gently with the waves, carrying the two boys on a voyage into the unknown.

The deck rose and fell slightly beneath their feet, the sound of waves enveloping the ship from every direction.

The blond boy lay on his back, his chest rising and falling with his breath.

That last throw had left a dull ache in his back, but what occupied him more was the overturning of something he had understood.

So the way one moved one's feet, the degree to which one twisted one's waist, the path one's arm took as it swung-these subtle adjustments, added together, could actually produce such a vast difference.

He sat up and ran his fingers into his hair, the sea breeze stirring its tips.

The figure he had once needed to stand in front of could now knock him down.

The change had come too quickly, too quickly to adjust to.

"It's not just about attacking head-on."

The figure leaning against the wooden railing spoke, his voice mingling with the wind. "Change the angle, use your opponent's strength, and a lot of things will be different."

Doflamingo said nothing.