Breakfast ended in chaos.
After breakfast, Ace and Luffy insisted on going out for some exercise.
Ace took two simple weighted leg wraps from the wooden shelf by the door, skillfully wrapped them around his calves, and then wrapped them around Luffy's as well.
Ace Luffy him quickly and gave him a sharp tap on the head.
"Does Sister Kuina want to come along?"
Ace turned around and asked, his tone polite but his eyes holding a hint of probing—he was also curious about this suddenly appearing kendo girl.
Kuina glanced at Roy instinctively.
Roy leaned back in his chair, holding his teacup, and nodded slightly to her, a faint smile playing on his lips as always.
"Go ahead, go and see for yourself."
Kuina stood up, politely thanked Rouge, and followed the two boys out the door.
The morning light had completely bathed the stone-paved roads of the Foosha Village.
Luffy ahead, Ace yelled at him not to run too fast or he'd fall, and Kuina followed at the very back, keeping a distance of about ten steps.
Her observation began the moment she stepped out the door.
These two children are physically superior to their peers.
Luffy power is unlike that of a six-year-old child; every step he takes leaves a shallow mark on the dirt road.
Ace wasn't fast, but his rhythm was extremely steady, and his breathing and footwork were coordinated to a very high degree.
This cannot be explained by talent; it is the result of meticulous refinement.
Garp?
Kuina silently memorized the name.
Her knowledge of the navy was limited to the few words her father occasionally mentioned.
But the trainer who could give these two children such a physical foundation at such a young age must not be an ordinary naval instructor.
The training grounds on the back hill had clearly been used repeatedly.
On a bare patch of ground, several crooked wooden stakes stood, along with a few weight-bearing stones of varying sizes.
The ground in the center of the open space was lower than the surrounding area—a dent carved out by countless falls.
Today's goal is --
Ace stood in the center of the open space, hands on his hips, and announced,
"First, run five laps around the mountain to warm up, then do one hundred sit-ups, and then practice physical skills together."
Whoever loses has to carry the stones down the mountain.
"I will absolutely not lose!"
Luffy had already taken off his jacket, revealing a wrinkled red vest underneath, and looked as spirited as a young rooster just out of its burrow.
Kuina found a crooked tree at the edge of the clearing, turned over and sat on the lowest branch, placed the wooden sword across her lap, and began her observation.
Less than 300 meters into the warm-up run, she noticed something more.
Ace's running form is extremely standardized. Every push-off, arm swing, and breath carries a precision beyond his years, a trace etched into muscle memory by repeated practice.
Luffy, on the other hand, had a completely different style—his running movements were haphazard, his arms swung like a windmill, and his steps were inconsistent in size, yet he managed to catch up with Ace and even took a few steps ahead in the middle of the race.
Chaotic, but fast.
It was completely haphazard, but its instincts were extremely sharp.
Kuina frowned. She had seen all sorts of students in the dojo: talented ones, untalented ones, hardworking ones, and lazy ones.
But she'd never seen anyone like Luffy before.
It's not that he's strong, but rather that his body seems to be bypassing all the rules in its own way while still achieving the same effect.
After warming up, we begin physical training.
Ace and Luffy stood facing each other and gave each other a standard naval salute.
Then Luffy pounced on him—without testing the waters, without feinting, he went straight for the head.
"Idiot! Who told you to headbutt me!"
Ace cursed as he dodged to the side, grabbed Luffy's arm with his left hand, hooked his ankle with his right foot, and slammed Luffy to the ground with a clean and decisive motion.
Luffy bounced on the ground once, really once, then rolled over, got up, and pounced again, this time with his fist.
Kuina watched this "physical training," her confusion deepened.
Ace's wrestling skills clearly show naval influences; his foundation is solid, his movements are precise, and every grappling and counter-grappling is clean and beautiful.
Luffy 'Luffy fighting style is entirely driven by instinct, without any set patterns, but his ability to quickly learn while being beaten reminds her of Zoro.
Zoro is that kind of person too.
He gets knocked down, gets up, gets knocked down again, gets up again, and after falling eight hundred times, he will find that he has unknowingly mastered seventy percent of his opponent's moves.
Is this what Mr. Roy asked me to see?
Kuina fiddled with the wooden sword on her knee, her eyes darting back and forth between the two boys.
She saw talent, she saw hard work, and she saw the subtle bond between a precocious child and a reckless one.
But Pirate King?
She simply couldn't reconcile the two kids, still arguing about "who should carry the stones down the mountain," with the title that embodied Roger's will.
What exactly does Roy mean?
Kuina leaned against the tree trunk, a wooden sword slowly spinning between her fingers. Her calm eyes reflected the figures of two boys sweating profusely, her mind filled with unsolved mysteries.
Kuina stayed on the back mountain until the sun was high in the sky, filled with questions.
Ace and Luffy's training ended in a very ceremonial way—the two stood face to face in an open space, bowed to each other, and then Luffy cheered and rushed down to the stream, plunging into the water to cool off.
Ace, meanwhile, was adjusting his weighted leg wraps on the spot, his movements slow and methodical, even the way he folded the straps had a fixed habit.
Kuina jumped down from the tree branch, her wooden sword slung diagonally at her waist, and her gaze lingered on the two children for a few seconds.
She's seen enough today, but the answer to that core question—who is the Pirate King —remains shrouded in mystery.
Meanwhile, Roy followed Rouge out of her house and slowly walked along the village's stone path toward the Makino Tavern.
Rouge changed into a simple and elegant coat, and her hair was loosely tied back with a light blue hairband. As she walked in the morning light, she exuded a calm and composed aura.
Having lived in the Foosha Village for so many years, she had long since become one of the villagers, and people kept greeting her along the way.
" Rouge! Are you going to help out at the tavern today?"
"Hey! Keep an eye on the lunch market for Makino for a bit. Is your husband out fishing today?"
Rouge responded familiarly to each question, her voice both gentle and crisp.
Roy walked beside her, hands in his pockets, looking at the peaceful scene, and felt a rare sense of relaxation.
While the New World is rife with conflict and bloodshed every day, this small fishing village in the East Blue is so peaceful that you'd want to stay a few more days.
The Makino Tavern is located at the corner of the main street at the entrance of the village; it is a two-story wooden building.
The sign at the entrance was slightly curled at the edges by the sea breeze, and it read "PARTYS BAR" in white paint. When Rouge pushed open the door...
The wind chimes above the door jingled with a series of clear, crisp sounds.