Chapter 31: The Prodigy's Pace
Soon, Satoru stood alone in the training hall. The only cadet he'd used Infinity against was Chris, the speedster. For the rest, it had been pure, hand-to-hand combat. Yet, not a single blow had landed on him. His Six Eyes provided a 360-degree, flawless view. No matter the angle or trickery of their attacks, he saw the openings and countered with precision.
By the time the last cadet hit the floor, the hall was a field of groaning bodies.
Zephyr walked back in, right on cue. He showed no surprise at the scene. After testing Satoru himself, he'd expected nothing less. If Satoru had struggled here, it would have meant he was holding back.
"Well," Zephyr sighed, surveying his unconscious elite class. "It seems today's group training is cancelled."
He gestured to the shadows. "A few of you, get them to the infirmary."
A squad of Marines, who had been observing from the sidelines, hurried in and began carrying the defeated cadets away. This was part of Zephyr's lesson, too. His elite class had grown complacent, their egos inflated by their status. They needed a reminder: there was always someone stronger, a higher mountain to climb.
"Well done, boy," Zephyr said, turning to Satoru.
"It couldn't be helped," Satoru replied, his tone deceptively mild. "They were just too weak. I didn't even use a tenth of my power."
Zephyr's eye twitched. He was proud of these students. Having them dismissed so casually was a blow to his pride as an instructor.
Ahem. "Master, don't misunderstand," Satoru added, seeing the darkening expression. "I'm not implying anything about your teaching..."
But the damage was done. Zephyr's face was thunderous, his already tanned skin seeming to darken further.
"Enough," Zephyr grumbled, steering the conversation forward. "Since group training is out, we begin your personal regimen. Frankly, I have little to teach you about physical conditioning. Your own method seems perfectly tailored."
He paced, thinking aloud. "Power techniques? Your 'Black Flash' surpasses any striking art I know. Defense? Your 'Stopping Force' renders most techniques moot."
"What I can impart," Zephyr stated, stopping before Satoru, "are combat fundamentals and technique. Specifically, the Rokushiki, the Six Powers of the Navy. You saw glimpses of it today. Used correctly, they significantly enhance combat prowess."
Satoru nodded. He'd seen pieces of all six styles during the brawl, though no single cadet had mastered them all.
"First, the simplest: Geppo (Moon Walk). The principle is—"
"Master," Satoru interrupted politely.
Zephyr paused, frowning. "What is it?"
"I don't think I need to learn Geppo."
"Why not?" Zephyr's expression soured further, suspecting arrogance.
"I observed it earlier. It's a skill for aerial mobility. But that's not a challenge for me."
As he spoke, Satoru simply... lifted off the ground. He rose smoothly into the air, standing as if on an invisible platform.
Zephyr stared, his lecture forgotten. He knew of Sky Walk techniques, but this was effortless, silent levitation.
"So," Satoru said, taking a few casual steps mid-air, "no need for Moon Walk, correct?"
Zephyr could only nod, dumbfounded.
"Soru (Shave) for speed, Tekkai (Iron Body) for defense, Kami-e (Paper Drawing) for evasion... you don't need those either," Zephyr muttered, listing them off as he connected Satoru's existing abilities. Instant movement, an immovable defense... the utility of those three Rokushiki was nil for him.
"That leaves only the two offensive techniques: Shigan (Finger Gun) and Rankyaku (Storm Leg)."
Zephyr's focus returned. "Watch closely. These, at least, should be practical for you."
He demonstrated Shigan first. His index finger shot forward like a piston. THWIP! A perfectly round, finger-sized hole was punched clean through the reinforced training wall.
"This is Finger Gun. Concentrated piercing power. It can be a surprise finisher against a stronger foe."
Even as Zephyr moved, Satoru's Six Eyes were recording everything—the minute muscle contractions, the shift of weight, the channeling of force.
"Now, Rankyaku."
Zephyr pivoted, his leg becoming a blur. He snapped it outward. A crescent of compressed air, sharp as a blade, shrieked across the room and sliced a clean, deep gash into the far wall.
"That's Storm Leg. A ranged cutting attack."
Zephyr turned back, ready to launch into a detailed explanation of kinetic theory and muscle control. "Now, I'll explain the power mechanics behind these two. Mastery will depend on your talent and—"
"No need, Master."
Huh? Zephyr's lecture died in his throat.
He watched as Satoru assumed the Shigan stance, index finger extended. The boy's form was a mirror image of his own.
"Shigan."
Satoru's finger thrust forward. There was a softer thud, not the clean puncture Zephyr had made, but a noticeable dent appeared in the wall. It hadn't pierced through, but the impact was undeniable.
Without pausing, Satoru shifted stance, pivoting on one foot.
"Rankyaku."
His leg flashed out. A thinner, less defined arc of force flew from his kick, scoring a shallow crack in the wall instead of a deep cut.
The power was nascent, unrefined. But the technique was there. Executed flawlessly on the first attempt, after a single demonstration.
Zephyr's jaw hung slack. He felt the world tilt slightly. He'd dedicated decades to mastering these arts, to teaching them. This boy had just... copied them.
"Satoru," Zephyr managed, his voice strained. "Tell me the truth. Did Garp... already teach you the Rokushiki?"
"Nope."
The single, simple word echoed in the silent hall. Zephyr stared at his new apprentice, the reality of what he was dealing with finally, fully dawning on him. This wasn't just talent. This was something else entirely. A chasm had opened between the realm of prodigy and the being before him, and Zephyr was left standing on the mortal side, utterly humbled and awed.
(End of Chapter)
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