Jack, Gibbs, Pintel, and Ragetti stood in a miserable line inside the dojo courtyard, wrists freshly unbound but still sore, clothes still caked with salt, soot, sweat, and the lingering regret of every decision they had made since leaving port. The air smelled clean—wood, grass, discipline—which made them smell even worse by comparison.
Around them stood the students.
They were arranged neatly in rows, boys and girls of varying ages, all wearing clean uniforms, swords resting at their sides, backs straight, feet perfectly aligned. Not a single one fidgeted. Not a single one slouched. Their eyes followed the pirates with curiosity sharpened by caution, like a pack of well-trained cats observing four very questionable rats.
Jack glanced left. Then right.
Then leaned slightly toward Gibbs, lowering his voice. "I don't like this place."
Gibbs didn't even look at him. "If you have not noticed, this place doesn't like you either."
Jack nodded. "That's fair."
At the front of the courtyard stood Koushirou. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked neatly into his sleeves, expression calm in a way that made Jack deeply uncomfortable.
"Other than your appearance," Koushirou said evenly, "you do not look particularly threatening."
There was a pause.
Pintel gasped like he had just been stabbed emotionally. "Oi! What's that supposed to mean?"
Ragetti nodded vigorously beside him. "We're very threatening!"
They both puffed out their chests in unison.
Koushirou turned without warning and slapped them both.
The sound cracked sharply through the courtyard.
Pintel flew sideways and collapsed in a heap, arms flailing. Ragetti spun once, lost track of which way was up, and fell flat on his back with a dull thud.
The students did not react.
Koushirou returned his attention to Jack and Gibbs as if nothing at all had happened.
Jack blinked. "He does that a lot, doesn't he?"
Gibbs hissed, "Stop talking."
Koushirou studied them again, gaze lingering on posture, stance, weight distribution—things Jack had never once considered important in his life.
"You are pirates," Koushirou said. "But you do not act like pirates. Even a normal woman could beat you."
Pintel groaned from the ground. "That's because we haven't eaten properly."
Ragetti added weakly, "Also we're tired."
Koushirou ignored them completely.
"We are a particularly new pirate crew." Jack said.
Gibbs cleared his throat. "If we're not threatening," he said carefully, "why bring us here?"
Koushirou did not answer right away. Instead, he turned slightly toward his students.
"Untie them."
The courtyard stiffened.
Some students exchanged glances. Others instinctively tightened their grip on their swords.
"They are pirates," one boy said quietly.
Koushirou's presence sharpened instantly.
"Untie them."
The students moved.
Ropes were loosened and pulled away. Jack rolled his shoulders and flexed his wrists with exaggerated relief. Gibbs did the same, eyes sharp, already mapping exits out of habit. Pintel and Ragetti stood very still, hands glued to their sides, having learned a valuable lesson about sudden movements.
Koushirou's gaze dropped to Jack's waist.
"The cutlass," he said. "Do you know swordsmanship?"
Jack straightened instantly. "Of course."
Gibbs turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing.
Jack drew the cutlass with a flourish—one that would have looked impressive if his feet hadn't landed slightly wrong and his shoulders tilted at an odd angle. He struck a pose meant to convey confidence, charm, and experience.
Koushirou saw everything.
The grip was wrong. The stance was wrong. The balance was wrong. Jack held the blade like a man who had watched sword fights and decided to cheaply imitate it.
Koushirou said none of this.
Instead, he gestured to one of his students. A boy stepped forward, no older than Jack, expression calm and focused.
"Fight him," Koushirou said.
Jack's confidence doubled immediately. "Now hold on," he said, holding up a hand. "I might hurt the kid."
The students bristled.
Koushirou smiled faintly. "He will be fine."
Jack hesitated. "…Your words."
He crouched slightly and lowered his voice toward the boy. "No hard feelings, alright? I'll go easy."
The boy nodded respectfully.
They bowed.
Then the boy moved.
Jack barely saw it.
The wooden sword snapped against Jack's wrist, sending the cutlass flying. A second strike tapped his shoulder. A third swept his legs clean out from under him.
Jack hit the ground flat on his back, staring up at the sky.
The entire exchange took less than five seconds.
Silence followed.
Pintel's eyes bulged. "He slipped!"
Ragetti nodded eagerly. "Yes! Slipped on… honor."
Jack scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt off his coat. "I let him win."
The boy blinked. "You did?"
"Yes," Jack said firmly. "Confidence-building exercise."
Pintel pointed at Jack. "See? Strategy."
Gibbs buried his face in his hand.
Koushirou studied Jack with renewed interest.
"You have potential," he said.
Jack lit up. "I do?"
A quiet voice stirred again in Koushirou's mind.
Teach him.
Koushirou exhaled slowly.
"From today," he said, "you will call me your teacher."
Jack froze.
"…Sorry?"
"You lack foundation," Koushirou continued calmly. "But you have instinct. That is dangerous without guidance."
The students murmured.
"You will stay," Koushirou said. "You will train."
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it. "Do pirates usually have teachers?"
Gibbs muttered, "This is worse than prison."
Koushirou turned to the students. "You may spar with them," he said. "You may not maim them."
The hesitation vanished.
Smiles appeared. Sharp ones.
Gibbs felt a chill.
Pintel swallowed. Ragetti whimpered.
Jack smiled uncertainly. "This feels less like hospitality."
Koushirou folded his hands into his sleeves once more.
"Training begins tomorrow," he said.
Jack Sparrow, captain of the Caribbean Pirates, realized far too late that plundering an island had led him straight into discipline—and he had never been less prepared.