There was a dull thud.
Zoro felt like he had slammed into a wall. His whole body flew backward out of his control, tracing an arc through the air before crashing into a sand pit several meters away, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"I told you, I am going to sleep."
Aren brushed off invisible dust from his hands.
"If you keep making noise, I will throw you into the shallows and let the Sea Kings have you."
Zoro spat grit from his mouth, then snapped up in a kip-up, ready to rush in again.
"All right, Zoro."
A gentle yet unquestionable voice came from the far end of the corridor.
Koushirou had opened the tearoom door at some unknown moment and was now standing under the eaves. His face still wore that familiar, mild smile.
"It is late. Do not disturb our guest's rest. Go and finish the one thousand swings you skipped in the back yard."
"But, Sensei..."
Zoro still wanted to argue, but under the gaze of those perpetually narrowed eyes, he finally swallowed his protest, reluctantly sheathed his bamboo sword, shot Aren a fierce glare, then turned and stomped off toward the back yard.
With one problem solved, Aren let out a quiet breath and was about to return to his room when he noticed that Koushirou had not gone back inside. Instead, he stepped aside, leaving half the doorway open.
"Aren, since you are not asleep yet, why not come in for a cup of tea?"
Koushirou's voice was soft, but there was something else in it.
"An old friend of mine is very interested in you."
Aren's step paused.
Through the half-open door, he could see a tall man in a dark green cloak sitting on the mat in the center of the tearoom.
Even seated, the weight of his presence almost seemed to spill out of the room.
So it is time already?
The thought flickered through Aren's mind. He adjusted his grip on the wine flask and walked up onto the corridor.
"Good timing. I drank a bit too much, a cup of tea should be legal."
He slipped off his sandals and entered. At Koushirou's gesture, he sat down opposite the man.
The tearoom was sparsely furnished, just a low table, a pot of clear tea, and a thin ribbon of sandalwood smoke curling upward.
Only when they were sitting face to face did Aren finally get a close look at the man who gave the World Government headaches.
Monkey D. Dragon's features were carved and resolute. His deep eyes were calm, yet currents moved beneath the surface.
The red, square tattoo on his left cheek caught the candlelight and took on a faintly mysterious air.
"Aren?"
Dragon's voice was low, like an ordinary neighborly uncle making small talk.
"Ten years old?"
"Eleven, if you count by full years," Aren said, pouring himself a cup of tea with a motion so natural it was as if this were his own living room.
Dragon watched the steadiness of the boy's hands.
"Just now in the yard, when you dodged that moss head's strike, you did not use your eyes," Dragon said, lifting his cup and gently blowing away the foam. His tone was certain. "That was Observation Haki, was it not? It is still immature, but it has definitely awakened."
Beside them, Koushirou only smiled without speaking, quietly refilling their cups.
"Maybe it was just instinct," Aren replied, taking a small sip. The tea was slightly bitter going in, but left a long sweetness on the tongue. "Out on the sea, anyone whose instincts are not sharp is already fish food."
He neither confirmed nor denied it.
"Instinct, hm... a fine talent."
Dragon set his cup down. His deep gaze suddenly fixed on Aren, and the previously gentle atmosphere shifted in an instant.
"To awaken this kind of power on your own, here in the East Blue, of all places... you really are a raw stone worth polishing."
His fingers tapped lightly on the tabletop. The small sound echoed once and again in the quiet tearoom.
"But the power to see through things is not enough."
He looked at Aren, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
"Too fragile."
The next second, a terrifying aura burst outward from him without warning, exploding through the cramped tearoom with Dragon at its center.