I lift my gaze to the horizon just as the sun begins its lazy descent, casting brilliant streaks of orange and violet across the sky. The evening air is thick with the scent of salt and summer, warm against my skin. I sit on the creaking dock, legs dangling over the edge, savoring the incredible relief of water from my canteen. Beads of sweat cling to my brow; I wipe them away, feeling both exhaustion and satisfaction from the day's training.
Training has eaten up the better part of the afternoon, but progress is finally within reach. The basics of the Shunshin technique have settled into muscle memory, at least the rough first version. Now, I'm focusing on shortening the distance and refining the burst so it surges through my feet with greater precision. I've started calling it Shunpo. I couldn't resist the Bleach reference. When I ignite the technique, there's a sharp heat in my calves, and the air seems to snap around me, a rush that leaves my joints tingling. The real challenge is using it in a fight. Each time I flicker forward, my senses lag, and for a split second, I'm blind and off balance. If I ever want to pull this off in real combat, I have to find a way to keep my awareness sharp and my head clear.
But it's more than just a combat challenge. Every misstep with Shunpo might delay the promise I made to protect my crew from looming threats. I've seen firsthand the devastating impact of being unprepared when it matters most, and I can't let it happen again. The weight of that promise pushes me forward, sharpening each practice session with urgency. I have to perfect this, not just for me, but for everyone who counts on me.
Shisui probably managed all this effortlessly with his Sharingan, a luxury I don't have. Then again, Minato pulled off something similar with his Flying Thunder God. Maybe the difference isn't just raw talent, but perception. Deep down, I've always sought a way to transcend my own limits, to become someone capable of altering fate when it matters most. It's a longing that has followed me even into this new life. If I want to bridge the gap, I'll need to sharpen my senses and push my reaction time to the limit. That's tomorrow's goal. For now, I let the thought linger as the sky darkens.
My eyes go distant as a familiar sensation flickers through me, the shadow clone's memories returning all at once. I sift through them, piecing together the clone's day: nothing surprising, just more of the same, except for a satisfying haul of weapons and treasure pilfered from the Marine base. Not a bad bonus.
Voices drift across the water, rough and cheerful, a familiar energy. I peer down the dock and catch sight of Luffy, his straw hat catching the sunset's glow, a vivid silhouette against the dimming sky. Beside him, a tall figure with wild green hair strides confidently, the distinctive clink of three swords at his hip echoing quietly with each step. That's got to be Zoro.
"Hey, Luffy!" I call out, grinning despite myself. He catches my eye and his face lights up, waving both hands above his head before practically launching himself in my direction, all boundless energy and enthusiasm.
"Daichi! This guy here is Zoro! He's our new crewmate!" I nod at him before turning towards Zoro.
"Name's Daichi," I say, offering a nod and a steady look. "I'm the first mate of the Straw Hat Pirates. I know I've got a long way to go, but I swear I'll get stronger."
Zoro sizes me up with a measured, almost challenging gaze, as if weighing my worth. In that moment, I feel a flicker of self-doubt, questioning whether I truly have what it takes to stand beside these warriors. But there's also hope, the possibility of learning from him, of proving myself worthy in his eyes. "You're alright, kid. Strength comes with time. But will, will's what counts. Show me that, and you'll earn your place soon enough."
Relief flickers through me at his answer. I offer a tentative smile, letting some of my nerves show. "If you're up for it, I'd like to train together sometime. I know I'm not a swordsman, but I can hold my own with a kunai in close quarters. Maybe we could spar, you might even teach me a thing or two about brute strength."
He studies my face, eyes narrowing just a bit, searching for something beneath the surface. After a moment, he shrugs, almost amused. "Sure. Ask anytime, and I'll put you through your paces."A breath I didn't realize I was holding escapes me. Training with Zoro means only one thing: my limits are about to be shattered, and that's exactly what I want. Yet, as the sun dips lower, the dock beneath me creaks ominously, a foreboding whisper of trials to come. The distant scent of rain lingers in the air, hinting at the stormy challenges that await on this rigorous journey.
I turn back towards Luffy, "I took the liberty of gathering supplies for the journey and sealing them away. I've also gathered some training supplies for myself, so if I do my own thing for a bit, please try not to distract me; it could literally blow up in my face."
He looks towards me with a slightly more serious expression than usual, as if appraising me. "Good work, Daichi, I can tell you've been working hard. You told me you were going to be training while we were on this island. And I can already see some improvement. Good work."
I stagger back a little, surprised. Luffy being serious and giving out an actual compliment like that. It's almost a never-occurring thing. "Thank you, Captain. I'll continue to improve."
We continue to move into the boat, making sure everyone has enough space. "Is everything alright with Coby? Haven't seen him since you guys left this morning."
Luffy nods with a big smile on his face. "Yeah, I punched him so the Marines knew he wasn't with us and they accepted him!"
I deadpan at him. "There were probably easier ways to do that, but as long as everything worked out all right."
Zoro looks towards us, "Probably didn't have to hit him that hard either."
Suddenly, I hear footsteps and turn towards the dock as we drift away. Coby is running towards the edge, panting as he runs.
"Luffy! Daichi! Thank you for everything!" He bows towards us. As he stands there bowing, all the other marine soldiers walk beside him and bow as well.
I wave back silently with a knowing look. We'll see each other again. And next time, we'll all be stronger.
The boat rocks gently beneath us as I grip the oar, squinting at the horizon and doing my best to keep us on course for Orange Town. My navigation skills are basic at best, half memory, half guesswork, but with enough luck, we should get there before nightfall. Luffy sprawls across the bow, hands clutching his stomach, groaning dramatically. "I'm starving! Daichi, you got any more meat?" he whines, voice echoing over the waves. I shoot him a flat look. "You already ate the last of the salted pork an hour ago." Luffy pouts, rolling over to stare at the sky. Zoro, meanwhile, is dozing against the side of the boat, snoring softly. The scene feels almost peaceful, but I know what's coming. Luffy needs to get grabbed by that giant bird for the story to stay on track.
I glance down at the balloon in my hand, its neck snapping with a sharp pop as my concentration slips yet again. Frustration knots my brow, the half-soggy balloon taunting me with every failed attempt. For the past hour, I've been trying to get the chakra rotation right, molding it, coaxing it, willing it to spin evenly. The water inside sloshes uselessly, a testament to hours of practice slipping through my grasp like sand. Days of perseverance, and I'm still stuck on the basics. The Rasengan might be infamous for its difficulty, but I thought I'd at least manage the first stage by now. With each failure, a vivid memory haunts me: the moment I lost someone dear because I wasn't strong enough, and that pain drives me to master this technique. Instead, it feels like the harder I try, the less progress I make.
I can sense my chakra spinning, almost there, but never quite enough force. It's not just about control; I'm lacking raw output, the volume needed to burst the balloon. That's just step one. If I can't manage this, how am I supposed to move on to the following stages? The doubt gnaws at me, but I grit my teeth and keep at it.
It only gets more challenging from here, each step a higher wall to climb. Resigned, I let out a long breath and stash the balloon back in my pack. The only real way to build up my reserves now is through meditation, focusing on expanding my chakra network and sharpening my senses. Today, though, I felt a small surge of energy, a brief heartbeat longer than yesterday's. It's not glamorous, not yet a game-changer, but it is a reminder that progress is real, even if slow. It's the best use of my time while we drift.
Of course, someone has to steer, and my options aren't great. Luffy gets bored after five minutes and would probably try to catch fish by hand rather than watch the water. Zoro? He'd steer us in circles, convinced he's heading the right way even as the sun sets in the east.
I settle down cross-legged on the deck, letting the rhythmic splash of oars and the distant cries of gulls lull me into focus. In the original story, Luffy and Zoro just drifted aimlessly until fate (and a giant bird) set them on course. If I meditate now, maybe things will unfold just as they're supposed to. At least, that's the hope.
Closing my eyes, I reach inward, steadying my breath, gathering my chakra, letting it circulate in smooth, deliberate waves through my system. Bit by bit, I can feel the changes: my channels widening, the energy moving just a fraction more freely than before. Patience is key. Growth is slow, but it's there.
The world fades away as I focus, sound, scent, and sensation slipping into the background. All that exists is the ebb and flow within me, the steady pulse of chakra as I refine it, shaping myself for whatever comes next.
Gradually, the sounds of seagulls and distant shouting draw me back to reality. The boat is still, bumping gently against the dock. For a moment, confusion hits me; there's no sign of Zoro or Luffy, the air oddly quiet. Did I zone out that long? I must've really slipped into a trance. I make a mental note to stay aware, even when I'm deep in meditation.
I climb out of the boat and scan my surroundings. The remains of Orange Town sprawl before me, buildings splintered and stone scorched black. Windows are shattered, walls caved in. The infamous Buggy-Ball's handiwork, just like in the original tale. The devastation is even more jarring up close.
I remember the Buggy pirates Zoro left in the other boat; they're waiting for Nami. But I decide to deal with them when the time comes. Not like they were really doing much.
Keeping low, I slip through the shadows, moving from alley to alley before vaulting up onto a low rooftop. I leap from tile to tile, eyes scanning for anything useful, unspoiled food, stray utensils, anything that might help us or the townspeople. My movements are silent, every sense attuned to the ruined city's uneasy quiet.
Eventually, I reach a vantage point atop the highest roof, the wind tugging at my hair as I peer down at the chaos below. Laughter and shouts echo through the plaza, Buggy's pirates carousing, oblivious to the mess they've made. I crouch low, watching the scene unfold from the shadows.
Down below, Zoro strains to lift a massive iron cage. Luffy's voice rings out from inside, demanding to be let out. Nami darts forward, nimble as ever, swiping a key from a distracted pirate before sprinting after the others. Buggy's men shout curses, stumbling in every direction. I smirk, admiring Nami's quick thinking and agility. She's even faster than I imagined, and her method of using chaos to her advantage is impressive in a way that makes me pause. As I prepare to do some looting of my own, a thought tugs at my mind. Nami operates with a speed and efficiency that hint at sharp pragmatism, prioritizing immediate gain. It makes me wonder about the balance between my own code of honor as a shinobi and the sometimes harsh and pragmatic steps necessary for survival in this world. With all eyes on the chaos, now's my chance to secure a little extra treasure for our journey. Still, her actions serve as a reminder: my path as a shinobi and our code of survival may sometimes walk a fine line.
Sticking to the shadows, I use my cloak's camouflage, its dull gray seeming to shift to match the stone behind me. I slip past the main throng, circling toward a squat building on the edge of the festivities. Two pirates stand guard at the entrance, laughing and tossing dice. I close my eyes, stretching out with my senses. There's someone inside, the chakra signature heavier and larger than the rest, maybe a bodyguard, or just a big man with a big appetite. I file it away for later. Haven't had a chance to test my detection on someone like that before.
I hug the wall, keeping my steps light as I circle to the back of the building. Sure enough, there's a window cracked open in the far corner, almost inviting me in. I stifle a snort. Pirates: either careless or cocky. Probably both.
Slipping through the window, I land with barely a whisper. The room smells of sweat and cheap rum. The big guy inside doesn't even flinch; he's a mountain, built like a sumo wrestler with arms like tree trunks. He stands guard over the loot, oblivious to the world.
Working quickly, I unroll my scroll and start sealing up the treasure, one silent swirl of chakra at a time. I keep glancing at the brute; he's just scratching his belly, totally unaware. When the last coin vanishes, I shoot him a wry grin (not that he notices) and slip back out the window into the night.
With the loot secured, I head for the cluster of signatures I sensed earlier; they must be the townsfolk. In a quiet alley, I unseal a hefty bag of coins and valuables. I'll keep a share for the crew, but this should be plenty to help these people pick up the pieces. As I place the bag down, an elderly woman steps forward, her hands trembling. She reaches for one of the coins, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you, thank you," she whispers, pressing the coin to her heart as if uttering a silent prayer.
I drop down into the middle of a ragtag group, some standing, some huddled on crates or broken benches. It looks like this was once a market square. Their eyes go wide at my sudden appearance, so I raise my hands in a nonthreatening gesture and clear my throat. Time to get this over with.
"Alright, who's in charge here?" My voice carries across the square. After a moment's hesitation, a young man with mousy brown hair steps forward, eyes wary but determined. He looks about my age, maybe a little younger, regular guy, nothing flashy. I can relate.
"The Mayor's out right now," he says, voice steady but a bit nervous. "I'm Terry, his grandson. I handle things when he's not around."
I nod and heft the bag, letting it thud onto the ground between us. "This is a chunk of what Buggy and his goons stole from you. My crew and I are around to set things right. Once Buggy's out of the picture, this should help you folks get started again."
For a second, Terry stares, mouth working soundlessly. The rest of the crowd murmurs, shifting in disbelief. "Wait… you're actually helping us? A pirate?"
I give him a small, crooked smile. "Yeah, a pirate. But not all pirates are like Buggy. We've got our own code. Just… maybe don't run us out of town when we're done? We'll be gone soon, but I've got someone to say goodbye to first."
He bobs his head up and down, too flustered to say much else. "Y-yeah, of course! Thank you! Really, thank you!" I flash him a quick grin and vanish in a swirl of smoke, feeling lighter than I have all day. Doing a little good goes a long way.
I reappear at the docks, and it appears my control over the jutsu got a bit better. Is it because of my long meditation session?
I make my way towards where I can sense five signatures, one of which is smaller than the others. Must be Luffy, Zoro, Nami, the Mayor, and Chouchou the dog.
I'm barely halfway to the group when Luffy spots me and nearly leaps out of his skin. "Daichi! There you are! Zoro said you went into a coma or something, I thought you'd turned into a ghost!" He bursts into wild laughter, rolling on the grass.
I give him a deadpan look, but the corner of my mouth twitches. "Not dead, just meditating. Someone's got to plan ahead around here." I turn to the Mayor, bowing my head slightly. "I left your people a stash of treasure. Should go a long way once we're done trashing Buggy's crew."
The Mayor blinks, eyes rimmed red. "You… you really did that? For us?"
I shrug, a little embarrassed. "Hey, it was yours to begin with. Just putting things right."
Nami pipes up, incredulous and a little impressed. "Wait, so you actually stole from Buggy? And just handed it over?"
I nod before turning towards Luffy with a confused expression. "Who is she?" Luffy turns with a confident grin, radiating his usual boundless energy. "She's our navigator! Isn't she awesome?" he declares, emphasizing his role as captain with a thumbs-up gesture, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Luffy's eyes light up. "She's our navigator! She's awesome!"
I nod solemnly, playing along. "Welcome aboard, Miss Navigator."
Nami throws her hands up, glaring daggers at Luffy. "I never said I was joining! You idiot!"
She socks Luffy over the head, twice for good measure, while I try to ignore the comedy routine. "Hey, has anyone seen Zoro? I could've sworn he was nearby."
Nami finally pauses, arms folded. "Zoro's hurt, the Mayor hid him at his place so he could rest. Don't expect him to do much sword-swinging right now."
And suddenly a Buggy ball comes flying through the air, slamming straight into the Mayor's house. Dust and debris fly everywhere, cluttering the streets and blinding for a moment.
I head off before Nami can protest, but her muttered complaints follow me. As I move, a thought crosses my mind: Buggy's crew won't hesitate to unleash another Buggy Ball if we don't act fast. I catch a glimpse of her fiddling with the lock, only to leap back as a lion suddenly barrels in and smashes Luffy's cage to pieces. Typical chaos.
I head off before Nami can protest, but her muttered complaints follow me. I catch a glimpse of her fiddling with the lock, only to leap back as a lion suddenly barrels in and smashes Luffy's cage to pieces. Typical chaos.
Turning back to the house, I start digging through the rubble when a familiar voice grumbles, "Great. Just what I needed." An arm sticks out from the debris, Zoro, ever stubborn. I coat my arms with chakra and haul him free."You always know how to make an entrance, huh?" I say, setting him down gently on solid ground. I spot the stab wound at his side and quickly unseal some bandages, getting to work patching him up.
He grabs my wrist, stubborn as ever. Our eyes meet, and we share a knowing look without words, a subtle gesture that mirrors his silent determination. I continue my task, nodding slightly as if to echo his unspoken resolve.
He grunts, which I take as permission to keep going. Once I've finished, I step back. "There. Should hold for now. Maybe avoid getting sliced again?"
He nods, muttering something about "bad luck" and "crazy clowns." I leave him to it and head back toward Nami and the Mayor.
"Is Luffy still fighting that lion?"
They nod, their faces a mixture of awe and fatigue from everything that's happened. I draw a quiet breath and crouch beside Chouchou, the little dog's body trembling as he stares at the charred remains of his home and shop, his life's work, reduced to splinters and ash. The scent of smoke lingers in the air, faintly mingling with the singed smell of fur, amplifying the loss that hangs over us like a thick, suffocating veil. His cries are soft but heartbreaking, each whimper carrying the weight of loss. Gently, I place a hand on his head, feeling the wiry fur beneath my palm. Slowly, I begin to pet him, channeling a gentle current of chakra into his small frame. I hope it soothes him, even just a little. He leans into my touch, his sobs subsiding to quiet sniffles, and I feel a faint sense of relief as his grief eases, if only for a moment.
I linger there beside Chouchou, letting the silence settle around us, broken only by his occasional sniffles and the distant crackle of smoldering wood. His grief is raw and honest, and I feel it echoing inside me, tugging loose old memories, faces, and places I'll never see again from my last life. My chest tightens, the weight of loss both familiar and fresh. Chouchou, as if sensing that he's not the only one hurting, shifts closer and climbs shakily into my lap. I wrap my arms gently around his small, trembling body. For a while, neither of us moves. We sit there, two souls bound by pain and memory, drawing quiet comfort from each other in the ruins of what once was.