Dawn split the forest in half—light catching dew, wind slipping between the trees like breath between ribs.
The forest had stopped pretending to be quiet.
And in the clearing, fire had taken shape.
Not flame, not smoke.
Rhythm.
Four bodies moving—burning—becoming.
The rhythm of four boys reshaping themselves.
Krishna stood barefoot in the clearing, eyes closed, breathing even. The soft glow of dawn filtered through the canopy, casting long shadows on the training ground carved into the mountain's belly.
Around him, three pairs of footsteps fell into motion.
Ace struck again and again, his fists wrapped in cloth, knuckles raw. Each punch landed against a thick log half-buried in the ground, barely budging it. He darted between trees with raw speed, his shirt already off, skin gleaming with morning sweat. Soru cracked beneath his steps — not clean, not perfect, but undeniably fast.
Each impact echoed.
Soru. Step. Strike. Reset.
Sweat clung to his shoulders like armor. His breathing was loud. Focused. Almost angry.
Across the field, Sabo moved through Kami-e drills—barefoot, shirtless, ghost-like. Every breath flowed with motion. His arms swept like wind. His eyes never blinked. His fingers were bruised, knuckles taped. He moved not like a fighter, but like a shadow learning to fold into its caster. And when he struck with Shigan, even the trees seemed to wince.
Luffy did what only Luffy could.
Luffy ricocheted from branch to ground and back again, muttering names for his attacks as he moved. "Gomu Gomu no Kick-Punch—no, wait—Twist? Is that new?!" He fell, bounced, and landed with a grin.
A blur of Soru footwork mixed with wild punches, laughter, headbutts, and Gomu Gomu improvisation. He slipped, bounced, got up, yelled something about "techniques with cooler names," then sprinted again.
And Krishna?
Krishna didn't move.
Not yet.
He stood still.
Back straight.
Eyes closed.
Hands behind his back.
Breathing like the forest itself—slow, full, and completely unconcerned with effort.
Medha pulsed in his mind, gentle and unhurried.
"Armament flow stabilizing. You've officially entered base-stage hardening—coating conversion now functions under controlled focus. Conversion rate: 38% efficiency under pressure. Not yet emission-grade."
"Observation Haki passive radius holds at 90 meters. Internal grid remains flexible. Emotional clarity continues to rise."
"Conqueror's frequency: restrained. Controlled. Stable. Not yet Infusion."
Krishna opened his eyes.
Everything was quiet—but alive.
"Then let's begin."
He walked forward slowly, letting the others continue until he stopped at the center of the clearing.
They gathered.
No shouting. No dramatic start.
Just presence.
Krishna nodded once, and they fell into their daily rhythm — Soru laps, Kami-e drills, breath control, sparring rotations.
But today was different.
Today, he shifted the focus.
"Today we focus on refinement. Observation drills begin after the pulse test. We shift into early Armament refinement, and then reintroduce Rokushiki foundations."
Ace cracked his neck. "About time. My arms are going numb."
Sabo chuckled. "That's because you're hitting like a boar, not a human."
"I am a human, moron."
"Debatable."
"Shut up!"
Luffy fell backward dramatically. "Can we train and snack at the same time?"
"No," Krishna said.
"Please?"
"No."
Observation drills came first.
Eyes closed. Heart steady.
They formed a triangle—standing close, heads slightly bowed.
Krishna stepped between them like a quiet current.
"You're not trying to hear sounds. You're feeling intent. Even if it's quiet. Even if it's yours."
He flicked his fingers. A leaf fell. A pebble shifted.
Ace twitched first—too sharp, too reactive.
Sabo's posture held. Almost calm. His awareness brushed Krishna's aura and then withdrew.
Luffy… laughed.
"I felt it!"
Krishna turned.
"You're improving."
Sabo opened his eyes. "I felt you."
Ace frowned. "I felt something. Not sure what."
Krishna nodded. "That's the beginning."
Then he raised his arm.
Hardening flowed over his forearm—black, cracked, fragile. Not smooth yet. But present.
Ace blinked.
"You've reached it?"
Krishna nodded. "Barely."
Then turned to Ace.
"You're closer than you realize. But your flow is uneven. You're fighting it."
Ace scowled. "I'm hitting it."
"And that's the difference."
They shifted into Armament drills next.
Krishna walked them through stances. Focused breath. Internal compression.
He moved behind Ace first.
"You've been coating instinctively. But the flow is uneven. Let it settle, not surge."
He tapped Ace's wrist.
Ace frowned, focused — and for a moment, the faintest black sheen pulsed across his fists.
"Better."
Ace's arms shimmered briefly—a consistent sheen just under the skin. It wasn't hardening. But it held. More stable than before.
Then Sabo.
"You're flowing too much. Armament isn't about feeling. It's about pressure. Let it compress."
Sabo nodded, teeth gritted. His hand trembled, then briefly flickered with a silver-black tension. Not a coating. But the first step.
Sabo could manage tiny flickers—when his breathing matched his strike. No control yet, but promising.
Then Luffy.
Krishna tilted his head.
"Luffy, don't try to make it happen. Just… hold your breath. Then believe it will work."
Luffy frowned, eyes crossed. "Like when I stretch without thinking?"
"Exactly."
Luffy inhaled. Held. Focused.
His fingers darkened slightly—then popped back to normal.
"HEY! I—wait, did you see that?! I think I saw that!"
They all smiled.
Even Ace.
Krishna only smiled faintly.
Next came Rokushiki foundations.
They returned to Soru and Kami-e drills first—sharpening what they already owned.
Krishna stood aside for a moment, watching each of them move.
Ace — aggressive. Momentum-led. He used Soru like a cannonball with legs.
Sabo — surgical. Precise. Used Kami-e and Shigan in tight patterns, minimizing space.
Luffy — unpredictable. Wild. His Soru was fast but messy. His Kami-e worked more on instinct than timing.
All three had reached battle-ready status in these techniques.
Not perfect.
But dangerous.
Then Krishna demonstrated.
Geppo — one step, no wasted effort. Lifted. Landed.
Tekkai — his back flexed once. A tree branch bounced off his shoulder like mist on steel.
"I'm not teaching these today," he said. "But your bodies need to know they're possible."
Ace watched intently.
Sabo nodded.
Luffy just shouted, "I wanna kick sky things!"
Training continued.
And Krishna guided each of them without flinching.
But inside, he felt the difference.
He wasn't learning this anymore.
He was recording it.
"Kāya Kalpa Sūtra(Scripture of the Eternal Body Refinement) adapting. Cellular reinforcement now scales with spiritual intake."
"Hridaya Tantra(Doctrine of the Heart) synchronizing with Armament compression response. Emotional memory loop detected."
"Cross-referencing Shanks' sparring data… Garp's kinetic field scans… internal reflex maps stabilizing."
Krishna exhaled again.
Not from strain.
From awareness.
His Martial God Body wasn't just learning.
It was deciding.
Training paused only when the forest light shifted toward noon.
They sat together in the shade. Breathing. Silent.
Ace was wiping sweat from his brow. Sabo flexed his fingers. Luffy lay on his back, blinking at clouds.
Ace noticed it first.
"Hey."
Krishna looked up.
"You're not even sweating."
Krishna said nothing.
Ace scoffed. "Are you even trying anymore?"
Sabo chimed in. "He's… not moving the way we are."
Luffy added, "He's like a mountain that's also… a river."
Krishna finally spoke.
"I'm still here."
Ace crossed his arms. "You sure? Feels like you're pulling away."
Krishna met his gaze.
"I'm not pulling. I'm drifting."
Later, they lined up for foundational drills on the remaining Rokushiki.
"Today: base form for Geppo and Tekkai. No jumps. No flex. Just rhythm."
Krishna demonstrated.
One step.
Weight lifted — not from force, but from precise recoil.
He hung in the air for a blink. Landed softly.
Ace went next. Too much leg tension. Not enough balance.
Sabo followed — Kami-e interrupted his launch rhythm.
Luffy? Somehow used Gomu Gomu no Rocket to do a weird spiral.
Krishna didn't sit.
Krishna watched it all. Patient. Calm.
Not because he was better.
Because he was listening.
Not to their flaws.
To their direction.
To their breath.
Their progress.
Their direction.
Medha whispered.
"This is where divergence begins."
"Their growth is effort. Yours is… rhythm."
"For you it's no longer a training arc. It's an ascension curve."
"And your pace… will leave records behind."
He opened his eyes.
And said nothing.
It began, as many legendary disasters do, with a scroll.
Three of them, actually.
Stuffed into a sack of rice crackers Luffy had mistaken for lunch, sealed with twine and rage. The note pinned to the top was written on a wrinkled napkin, stained with soy sauce, and read:
"IF YOU DIE BEFORE LEARNING THIS, I'LL DIG YOU UP AND PUNCH YOUR CORPSE, AND COME TO THE AFTERLIFE TO KICK YOUR ASSES. —GARP"
They'd found them three months ago, a week after Garp's last surprise drop-in.
The trio stared.
"Are these training scrolls?" Sabo asked, slowly untying his.
Luffy grinned. "Maybe they're maps to a secret dumpling stash!"
Ace snorted. "More like Garp's secret brain damage."
Ace had unwrapped one instantly.
"What the hell is this?"
Sabo peered over his shoulder. "It's...a diagram?"
Luffy tilted his head. "That's not a person. That's a potato with fists."
Ace read aloud: "STEP ONE: PUNCH THE GROUND SO HARD THE EARTH APOLOGIZES. STEP TWO: EAT RICE."
Sabo found another page: "IF YOU THINK THIS IS HARD, TRY FIGHTING A GOAT IN MATING SEASON."
Luffy flipped his scroll upside down. "Mine has a sketch of Sengoku with a beard made of noodles."
Krishna didn't speak. He opened one.
And blinked.
Inside was… chaos.
Diagrams. Words. Scribbles.
One section showed a stubby figure labeled "YOU" kicking another labeled "DUMBASS ENEMY" with an arrow pointing to the sky and the words: GEPPO — KICK AIR UNTIL IT CRIES.
Another page contained a child-like sketch of Sengoku—complete with exaggerated afro and goat beard—being punched in seven different vital points by a large fist labeled TEKKAI MASTER FORM (STILL LEGAL PROBABLY).
Ace burst out laughing.
"This one's got Sengoku getting drop-kicked with Rankyaku!"
Sabo read aloud: "IF YOU MISS SHIGAN, POKE AGAIN. IF YOU MISS TWICE, BITE."
Luffy held up his scroll upside down. "Mine just says 'EAT RICE, THEN PUNCH HARDER THAN REGRET.'"
Krishna unfolded the last page.
It had a long rant—half Rokushiki, half food review of a fried tuna stand in Loguetown—and somewhere in the middle:
"IF SENGOKU READS THIS, TELL HIM I TAUGHT YOU ALL THIS JUST TO PISS HIM OFF."
That much, at least, was honest.
Garp had left them the Rokushiki scrolls not just to teach them powerful government techniques.
But to spite a system that would never authorize this training.
Especially not for kids.
And definitely not for these kids.
Krishna just sighed.
But then, he really looked.
Beneath the food rants, the insults, and the explosive drawings of "advanced fart stances," there were patterns. Posture cues. Directional flow. Pressure mapping. Even breath-control sketches hidden between doodles of dumplings.
He turned a page.
Traced a spiral hidden behind a crude drawing of Sengoku crying into noodles.
And felt it.
"Geppo," he murmured.
And on another—beneath a half-eaten cracker crumb and the sentence "TEKKAI IS BASICALLY FLEXING UNTIL REALITY AGREES"—a diagram Krishna recognized from Shanks' old sparring logs.
The structure of Tekkai. The bones of Rankyaku. The angle and tension of Shigan.
Not clear. Not elegant.
But real.
That night, they began.
The scrolls became legend. Luffy tried to copy the diagrams into his own book but ended up drawing Sengoku getting punched by a meatball.
Ace declared his page the "Holy Fist Gospel" and swore it was better than the Navy's whole manual.
Sabo made a second set of cleaned-up diagrams and labeled them "Idiocy Decoded."
Krishna?
He studied.
And then, that week, they began building foundations.
Soru and Kami-e had become familiar territory by then — battle-ready, if not flawless.
But the others?
They were alien.
Geppo was the first target.
"Lift, don't leap," Krishna had explained, stepping into the open clearing. "You're not fighting gravity. You're stepping on the air's intent."
Ace had tried first.
His legs flared. He launched six feet and hit a branch.
Hard.
Sabo used too little energy — barely left the ground.
Luffy, of course, spun upward, bounced off a tree, and came down yelling, "I almost kissed the sky!"
Krishna never corrected with scorn. Just repositioned them. Showed them. Let them fail.
Then try again.
And again.
And again.
Back in the present, training had reached the second phase.
Geppo. Tekkai. Shigan. Rankyaku.
They couldn't perform them fully yet—but the shapes had formed.
Today, the focus was on form. Not flair.
Tekkai: learning to tense without locking joints. Letting force flow without breaking structure.
Shigan: finger strikes at speed — targeting points of pressure, not just speed.
Rankyaku: practicing sweeping motions, even if they couldn't yet slice wind.
These were roots. Painful ones.
But the three boys had learned how to bleed without quitting.
Ace worked Geppo like a man launching rockets with his knees. His jumps had height, but no control. Still, the intent was strong.
Tekkai was easier for him. He could tense his muscles just short of rigidity—his body knew how to hold.
Sabo was clean with Kami-e already, and now practiced Shigan with disciplined thrusts—every strike more like a question asked of the air.
He couldn't generate wind blades yet, but the basic angle of Rankyaku was forming.
Luffy? He combined Gomu-Gomu techniques with Rankyaku in ways that would've made any CP9 assassin cry. One time, he kicked a tree while yelling "RANKYAKU GATLING" and the tree exploded. Not from the kick—he just knocked a wasp nest into Ace.
"RUN!" was his follow-up technique.
And in between all that?
There was Haki.
Observation Haki had awakened across ASL over the last few months—not from lectures, but from pressure.
From battles.
From moments where not-knowing would've meant getting hit.
Ace had been the first—his flare was instinctual. Rage-born. But now, he could sense intent, even subtle aggression.
He fought haki like he fought himself. Loud. Hard. Passionate.
His armament wasn't loud, but stable. His fists coated unconsciously during battle. No hardening yet—but the barrier was close.
Coating his fists. Wrapping around his forearms during strikes.
He didn't even realize how rare that was.
And when Krishna pointed it out, Ace just snorted.
"Guess I hit hard enough."
Krishna didn't argue.
Sabo's Observation was the sharpest.
He didn't flare it like a spotlight. He flowed it like mist. He could detect Krishna's presence without facing him. Could sense Ace's aggression before it surfaced.
He was quiet about it. Never boasted.
But even Krishna had noticed — Sabo's senses were whisper-close to refined. It guided his footwork, and occasionally, his Shigan placement.
His Armament was lagging, but slowly syncing with his breath.
Luffy?
Luffy was chaos-made-progress.
He had burst his Observation Haki one day during hide-and-seek, sensing a squirrel before it moved. "I felt his snack vibes!" he yelled. His Observation was instinctual — quick bursts that predicted movement by feeling rather than sensing.
His Armament flickered erratic—raw and volatile. Unreliable. But it came when it mattered.
And he worked harder than anyone.
Devil Fruit control. Sea water resistance trials. Observation games. Armament drills. Kami-e races.
He trained sea water resistance by submerging himself to the neck in cold barrels and letting Ace time him. "Twenty seconds without turning purple!" was his current record.
He trained like someone who wanted to make fun hurt.
And somehow… it worked.
And Krishna?
Krishna watched them from the shade.
He didn't interfere much anymore.
Didn't need to.
They were moving.
Each on their path.
Each catching rhythm.
And him?
He wasn't on a path anymore.
He was becoming the path.
His Observation didn't just sense. It resonated.
His Armament no longer flickered—it flowed. Liquid-hard, not yet emission-tier, but building.
And his Conqueror's… held.
Waiting.
Medha's voice floated in again.
"Foundational traces integrating. Each student adapting in their own waveform."
"Ace: impact-first progression. High output, low refinement."
"Sabo: sensory-first. Flow-state entering predictive motion layers."
"Luffy: instinctual chaos. Fractured pattern-to-intent syncing."
"And you…"
Krishna waited.
"You're not syncing. You're resonating. They respond to you unconsciously. Even their haki tries to match yours."
Krishna said nothing.
Then, "Is that good?"
"It's dangerous. Because if you fall out of balance—so will they."
He didn't reply.
Just watched as Luffy accidentally flipped over backward trying Geppo.
Sabo caught him with Kami-e.
Ace yelled, "You idiot!" while catching Luffy's shoe.
Later that evening, they gathered around the scrolls again — rereading Garp's nonsense.
Ace read aloud: "TEKKAI IS JUST FLEXING SO HARD EVEN LIGHT GETS SCARED."
Sabo added, "SHIGAN IS BASICALLY POINTY PUNCHING. IF YOU MISS, TRY AGAIN WITH ANOTHER FINGER."
Luffy snorted with laughter, "WHY FIGHT WITH YOUR BODY WHEN YOU CAN FIGHT WITH YOUR APPETITE?"
Krishna just folded the parchment slowly.
Underneath all of it — the idiocy, the jokes, the chaotic scrawl —
There was concern.
Garp had left them these not just to teach.
But to protect.
To give them tools Sengoku would've forbidden.
To make them ready.
In his own twisted, violent, cracker-mouthed way…
He'd given them a future.
Krishna simply closed his eyes.
And smiled.
Because whatever Garp had intended—
This was working.
Eight months into the training arc.
The day was already heavy by midday.
Clouds hung low. The air was thick. Not with humidity — with pressure. With the kind of silence that always comes before something cracks.
The sky no longer watched them with curiosity.
It watched in silence.
Because by now, the wind knew what Krishna had become.
And what Ace was about to become.
Krishna could feel it.
Not through Observation.
Just… through the weight behind every step Ace took.
Training had ended early that day. Nothing left to teach—on the surface.
The boys sat under the large flamewood tree, chewing on grilled meat, joking about Luffy's latest failed attempt at Geppo.
Krishna sat apart, eyes half-closed, scanning the forest without moving.
His Observation Haki expanded outward like a web of quiet light—soft and absolute. Where once he could sense 90 meters… now?
He touched the edge of 180.
Birds nesting. Water trembling. A fox pacing behind a log.
But also—Ace's heartbeat.
Sharp. Fast. Erratic.
Too fast for resting.
Too heavy for peace.
Krishna stood slowly.
"Ace," he said softly.
The boy looked up, jaw tight. "Sparring again?"
"No drills. Just motion."
Ace stood. "Good."
"And don't go easy," Ace said, quietly.
Krishna raised an eyebrow. "I never do."
"I mean it."
"I know."
They faced off in the center of the clearing.
Luffy and Sabo sat nearby, watching with sharpened eyes and mouths full of roasted fish.
The tension wasn't between them.
It was inside Ace.
Krishna felt it. Not with Observation.
With presence.
He didn't announce his Armament Haki—he didn't need to. His fists were already blackened, hardened not with effort, but clarity. No longer just coating. Now solid.
His Conqueror's aura pulsed low—coiled, not flaring.
Still. Controlled.
Stable.
Ace didn't speak.
He just moved.
The first clash was clean.
Ace darted forward with a burst of Soru — sharper than ever. His Armament coating flickered around his fists, not hardening, but holding — a veil of black tension, stable under pressure.
Krishna intercepted. Their forearms collided. A ripple of Haki spread through the clearing.
Krishna parried.
Not hard. Not soft.
Just enough.
Ace twisted, kicked — Krishna blocked with a light elbow.
Ace threw a wild punch.
Krishna ducked it. Pivoted behind him. Tapped his shoulder.
"You're flaring," Krishna said softly. "Control your breath."
"I am."
"No. You're pushing."
Ace pushed harder.
Krishna adjusted his stance, shifted his elbow, deflected the strike without stepping back.
The second wave came faster.
More force. Less rhythm.
Krishna absorbed it with the calm of stone and the timing of water.
Ace growled. "Don't go easy on me."
"I'm not," Krishna replied.
Ace's eye twitched. "You're holding back."
"No."
"Liar."
Ace pulled back, fists up, breathing heavy.
His Observation Haki flickered — erratic.
Too much emotion.
Not enough rhythm.
He came again — faster, heavier.
Krishna met him again, not moving his feet.
Counter. Redirect. Tap. Breathe.
The rhythm was perfect.
For Krishna.
And that was the problem.
Ace snapped forward again. This time, his fist aimed for Krishna's jaw.
Krishna tilted just enough to let the strike pass by, then tapped Ace's chest with an open palm.
A clean blow.
Not painful.
But final.
Ace staggered back, fists trembling.
"You always win," he spat. "Always!"
Ace growled.
"Stop holding back."
Krishna shook his head. "I'm not—"
"STOP." Ace's voice cracked. "I can feel it. You're not moving like you do when we train the others. You're being careful."
"I'm being precise."
"No."
Ace stepped forward, Conqueror's Haki pulsing faintly.
"You're afraid to hurt me."
Krishna didn't answer.
Not because he was guilty.
Because it wasn't untrue.
He stepped forward this time.
Struck once — open palm.
Ace blocked.
But the force rattled him.
He flew back, skidding across the field.
Not bruised. Not bloodied.
But beaten.
Again.
Silence.
Then, Ace stood slowly, his fists shaking.
His Conqueror's aura snapped.
The pressure lashed out like a wave — not refined, not shaped — just raw will.
Sabo dropped his food.
Luffy's hair blew back.
Krishna didn't move.
Even the trees rustled.
Krishna stepped forward calmly.
"You're flaring."
"Good."
"No."
"Then FIGHT ME FOR REAL!" Ace roared.
"I am."
"No! You're TEACHING me! You're OBSERVING me! You're not with me!"
The second wave came harder.
His Haki blasted outward — uncontrolled. Wild. The field shuddered.
Sabo instinctively used Kami-e to shield Luffy.
Ace dashed forward — pure fire in motion.
His Armament-coated fist slammed toward Krishna's face—
—and stopped half an inch short.
Because Krishna didn't dodge.
Didn't block.
Didn't flinch.
He just stood there.
Staring.
Not in arrogance.
In understanding.
And something in that stillness…
Stopped Ace.
"You're not losing to me," Krishna said quietly. "You're losing to the idea that you should be me."
Ace's arm trembled.
Krishna's voice dropped lower. "And that's not fair to you."
The fist fell.
Ace dropped to his knees, breath ragged.
His Haki flared a second time—hotter, sadder.
Then faded.
Krishna crouched beside him.
"Every time I grow, I hope you're proud. Not jealous."
Ace shook his head. "You grow without breaking a sweat."
"You're wrong."
Krishna placed a hand over Ace's fist.
Warm. Steady.
"Strength isn't always loud, Ace. Sometimes it's restraint."
Ace's voice cracked. "I hate this. I hate feeling like dead weight."
"You're not."
"I don't want to be second."
"Then don't follow me. Walk beside me."
Luffy wandered over, chewing loudly. "Did Ace punch the trees again?"
"No," Sabo answered. "This time he punched his soul."
"Cool."
They all sat down together.
Ace still looked embarrassed.
The silence that followed was different.
Not the kind before a storm.
The kind after.
Where the air has cleared. And breath returns.
Sabo walked over slowly. Luffy followed, fish still in hand.
They didn't say anything at first.
Then Sabo muttered, "You both suck at emotional stuff."
Luffy nodded. "You fight like moms. With feelings."
Ace barked out a laugh.
It broke something.
And fixed something else.
Sabo said nothing, but leaned back on his palms. Watching.
Luffy leaned against Ace's shoulder, pretending not to notice when Ace didn't pull away.
Krishna didn't move far away.
He just stayed next to him.
Close enough to remind him:
You're not alone in the fire.
Krishna let the silence hold.
Because sometimes the strongest form of Conqueror's Haki… is knowing when not to conquer anything.
In the background, Medha whispered:
"Conqueror's flare recorded. Existing Ace signature updated."
"Emotional stabilization detected. Internal resilience increased."
"Noteworthy: The fracture has deepened his lattice. He grows more defined each time he breaks."
"Krishna—your Observation range is holding at 180 meters. Armament: solid hardening achieved. Conqueror's field: stable. No leakage."
Krishna replied mentally, "It's not about breakthroughs anymore, is it?"
"No. It's about what survives after the break."
And Ace?
Ace didn't apologize.
Didn't cry.
Didn't retreat.
He just… sat there.
And that was enough.
For now.
Krishna closed his eyes.
Breathed.
And for once, his power didn't hum.
His presence did.
The next day, the clearing felt different.
Not just tired. Charged.
The kind of air that hums before lightning splits it.
Ace stood across from Krishna again.
Not angry this time.
Just ready.
"I'm not flaring," he said.
Krishna nodded. "I know."
"This isn't about winning."
"I know."
Ace smirked. "But I still want to."
That made Krishna smile.
The morning began with cold water and quiet breath.
Luffy sat half-submerged in a wooden barrel near the stream, arms draped over the sides, lips blue but grinning like he was having the time of his life.
"How long this time?" Sabo asked, stopwatch in hand.
"Thirty-eight seconds," Ace answered, chewing on grilled yam.
"Forty," Luffy gasped. "Don't cheat me!"
Then he slumped forward, unconscious and smiling.
Krishna walked by, towel in hand, and casually flipped Luffy out of the barrel one-handed.
"He lasted longer," he said softly. "His threshold's growing."
Medha hummed in Krishna's mind.
"Sea water toxicity diminishing. Neural disruptions localized. He's adapting."
"I've isolated the responsible element: pyrobloin."
"It's present in ocean water, condensed in Seastone. Anti-Haki lattice. Devil Fruit suppressor."
Krishna turned his thoughts inward.
"Countermeasures?"
"Already underway. I've synthesized pyrobloin particulate from trace minerals in the river. Low exposure trials ongoing."
"Luffy's resistance is developing. But your body…"
She paused.
"Your body isn't resisting it."
"No?"
"It's harmonizing."
Later that day, Krishna sat cross-legged in the riverbed, skin bare, water swirling with fine dust—pyrobloin suspended in the current, barely visible.
His Martial God Body wasn't rejecting the poison.
It was learning from it.
And his soul?
His soul was folding pyrobloin's weight into its rhythm.
Becoming immune not by shielding—but by absorbing truth.
That afternoon, Ace and Krishna stepped into the clearing again.
No tension. No anger.
Only purpose.
"Again?" Sabo asked.
Krishna nodded. "Controlled clash. No impact. Just pressure."
Ace cracked his knuckles. "I'll hold longer this time."
They stepped toward each other.
No signal. No stance.
Just stillness.
Then—
Impact.
Not physical.
Spiritual.
Two Conqueror's Haki fields exploded into each other — not wild, not aimless.
Purposeful.
Controlled.
And massive.
The forest bent.
Leaves shredded from trees. Rocks cracked. The very air pulled away from the space between them.
Birds scattered. A deer in the distance collapsed in unconscious terror.
Sabo staggered, but held ground, bracing with Kami-e.
Luffy's popcorn flew into the sky as he was blasted backward and caught by a surprised Sabo.
"SUGGEEE!" Luffy yelled, upside down.
Ace leaned forward, eyes locked with Krishna.
His Haki was hot. Forceful. Personal.
Krishna's was cold and precise — the kind of presence that didn't push, but drew the world in.
They met between them—two waves, two wills—slamming together.
The field exploded with pressure.
Wind sheared trees.
Rocks split down the middle.
Birds scattered in flocks, crying.
Luffy, halfway through a rice ball, dropped it as the shockwave hit.
"YES!" he yelled, flying backward again.
Sabo caught him. Again.
Ace's teeth clenched.
His legs held.
Krishna's expression never changed.
His eyes didn't glow.
But the air around him trembled.
And still—he pulled back.
Not because he couldn't win.
But because Ace was holding.
Not perfectly.
But without breaking.
Ace let his fall, too.
Not because he was tired.
Because he'd held.
And Krishna had felt him hold.
The clash ended with no victor.
No need for one.
Silence followed.
No cheers.
No declarations.
And in the distance, a fox passed out from sheer terror.
Sabo helped Luffy up, coughing.
"...So that's what real Haki pressure feels like."
Luffy was grinning, dazed. "I wanna do that!"
Krishna walked over, extending a hand.
Ace took it.
No words.
But Krishna's gaze held something different now.
Recognition.
Later that day, the training split again.
Each of the ASL boys now followed a path uniquely their own.
Ace moved with power.
Geppo and Tekkai were starting to sync with his physical instincts.
His Armament was more than stable—nearly always present in a fight.
He focused hard on Conqueror's control now, no longer flaring unintentionally.
Observation was present but secondary.
Sabo refined flow.
His Observation Haki had grown sharp and consistent.
Kami-e and Shigan were beginning to link through reflex, not drills.
Armament was coming—slow, deliberate, like mist forming into rain.
His power was patience.
Luffy trained like a storm with a soul.
He continued on all fronts.
He'd started calling it "Balance Style."
His sea water resistance drills had given him a new edge—less fear, more resilience.
Observation flared in bursts—often while dodging falling food or flying tree branches.
Armament came in fits, but he was learning to call it without effort.
Soru, Kami-e, Geppo—chaotic, but effective.
And Krishna?
He didn't train anymore.
Not like them.
His soul, his Haki, and his Martial God Body were growing together—beyond the rhythm of repetition.
He didn't just execute.
He resonated.
His Observation Haki held a passive radius of 200 meters now—emotion, intent, pulse, breath—all part of a quiet web.
His Armament hardened like liquid metal—dense, flowing, adaptive.
His Conqueror's Haki did not flare. It settled.
And Medha's whisper followed him even through stillness.
"Ace's Conqueror's lattice signature has evolved and stabilized. Updated resonance logged."
"Sabo's predictive rhythm nearing future-flow potential. His sensory lattice nearing adaptive foresight threshold."
"Luffy's resistance to Conqueror's pressure increased by 30%. Muscle memory adjusting to field trauma. His resilience spike correlated to sustained pyrobloin exposure."
Krishna stood in the river, eyes closed.
Armament hardened over his shoulders like obsidian. His Observation expanded in all directions like breath.
His Conqueror's Haki pulsed once—calm, controlled, and aware.
"...You are nearing Sovereign Will."
He opened his eyes.
"Not yet."
"But soon."
He moved further into the river.
Not fighting the water.
Letting the poison sing to him.
Letting the divine soul listen.
That night, they sat around the fire.
Luffy wrestled a raccoon out of the rice pot.
Sabo read a weather book upside-down.
Ace carved small notches into the handle of his sparring gloves.
Krishna sat beside them.
The fire between them crackled low.
But it wasn't weak.
It was tempered.
And deep inside the Martial God Body, Krishna's soul pulsed quietly.
Not because he'd won the clash.
Because he hadn't tried to.
The wind shifted that evening.
The breeze changed before the leaves did.
A sudden hush passed through the forest — not fearful, but alert. It wasn't a storm front or the coming chill of nightfall.
It was familiarity.
A presence moving through the trees like a relic refusing to creak.
Boots crunched on dry twigs.
Not loud.
But loud enough.
Ace glanced up mid-punch. Sabo blinked mid-form. Luffy sniffed the air.
"Grilled snacks... and violence?" he said.
Then Garp stepped out of the underbrush, grumbling, broad-shouldered, unchanged — and watching.
He didn't announce himself with a boulder toss this time.
Didn't yell.
Didn't grin.
Just stood, arms folded, and took them in.
Ace, shirtless and battle-worn, exhaled steam after a clean Geppo landing.
Sabo, perfectly balanced in Kami-e recoil, reset his footwork silently.
Luffy, stuck upside down in a tree, gave a muffled: "Hey, Gramps!"
And Krishna — Krishna didn't turn.
He'd felt him from the moment the leaves bent.
He stood there, calmly beneath the tree, barefoot in the dirt, arm glowing faint with Armament, eyes closed.
Garp blinked.
And that was saying something.
"No one's dead," he grunted.
Sabo smiled. "We were just taking bets."
Luffy shouted, "I bet Garp would come back smelling like seaweed and snacks!"
"I win!" He ran up and sniffed. "Snacks!"
Garp smacked him lightly with a wrapped rice ball. "Still stupid."
Luffy beamed. "Still fast!"
"And i learned to breathe underwater for twenty whole seconds! Kind of!", Luffy shouted.
Garp barked out a laugh and tossed a rice ball at his head.
Luffy caught it with his face.
Ace dropped to the ground and looked Garp in the eye.
No bravado this time.
Just strength. Earned.
Sabo approached slower, but stood taller.
Even his stance was different—less defensive, more centered.
Garp looked at all three.
And then—
His gaze moved to Krishna.
Who hadn't spoken.
Or moved.
But Garp could feel it.
A shift.
Not in weight.
In gravity.
Krishna finally turned, calm as moonlight.
Garp looked at him.
Then blinked.
"You're taller," Garp muttered.
Krishna nodded.
"You're stronger."
Another nod.
"You're... not normal."
Silence.
Then Krishna said, "No."
Garp grunted.
"Didn't think so."
They walked together later, out toward the old ridge. It was routine now, this quiet between them.
Old warrior and young... something else.
The moon hung low over the trees. Garp's arms were behind his back. Krishna's were at his sides.
"You still hear the others while you walk?" Garp asked.
"Yes."
"Observation range?"
"Two hundred meters. Constant."
Garp grunted again. "And your Armament?"
"Solid."
Garp gave a low whistle. "And your Conqueror's?"
Krishna didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
They reached the edge of the cliff, where the view split into water and flame — the moon catching both.
"Eight months ago, I left some dumb scrolls. Figured you'd laugh at them, maybe get a bruise or two."
"They worked," Krishna said.
Garp grunted. "Of course they did. I wrote them with purpose and rage."
"And Sengoku doodles."
"That's part of the purpose."
Then Garp spoke again.
"You know," Garp began, "when I left you those scrolls, I told Sengoku I was giving you all early retirement training."
Krishna raised an eyebrow. "That a lie?"
"It was mostly a spite letter and a crude drawing of his goat in a Marine hat."
Krishna smiled. "I saw that drawing."
"I knew you would."
Then Garp's tone changed.
"Truth is... I gave you those scrolls not because you needed them."
He looked down at the fire where Ace and Luffy were mock-wrestling and Sabo tried not to look like he was enjoying it.
"I gave them to you because they did."
A pause.
"You know what it's like to train soldiers. But raising boys like this? It's war of a different kind."
Krishna looked out.
"They're not behind me," he said.
Garp turned.
"They're not in front of you either."
"No."
"They're with you."
Krishna nodded once.
They reached the ridge overlooking the valley.
The moon cut silver across the water.
Garp didn't look at Krishna.
He just said, "You're not like them."
"I never was," Krishna answered gently.
"That's not what I mean."
"I know."
Another pause.
Then, "I've trained monsters before," Garp said. "Watched boys turn into demons. Saw power twist their backs until they forgot why they started swinging."
He looked at the fire far below, where Ace and Sabo were play-wrestling and Luffy was trying to roast a whole watermelon.
"But you…"
He exhaled.
"You're not a soldier. Not even a fighter."
"You're a mirror."
Krishna blinked. "Is that bad?"
"It's dangerous."
Garp scratched his beard.
"They orbit you. Their haki shifts around you. Their rage calms around you. Hell, their laughter sharpens around you."
He turned fully now.
"But what happens when you lose balance?"
Krishna's gaze didn't waver.
"Then I rise again."
A long breath passed between them.
Not confrontation.
Recognition.
Then Garp chuckled, low and quiet.
"When Sengoku hears I handed you brats classified Rokushiki notes, he's going to have a stroke."
Krishna tilted his head. "That was the plan?"
Garp shrugged. "Part of it."
"Mostly… I was scared."
He paused.
"They're not going to have easy lives. Not Ace. Not Luffy. Not even Sabo. The world's changing. You're part of that."
Krishna didn't answer.
Because Garp had said what mattered.
They stood in silence as the fire below burned warm and red.
Luffy's laugh echoed.
Ace barked something about cheating.
Sabo groaned in mock defeat.
And Krishna watched it all—
Not as a god.
But as a brother.
Garp finally said, "I don't get you. Still don't."
"Don't need to."
"But I trust them."
"And they trust you."
"That's enough."
They returned to camp, the fire warm and steady now.
Krishna stepped into the firelight again.
The boys didn't question it.
They just made room.
Luffy yelled, "GRANDPA! You smell like fish and explosions!"
"I am fish and explosions, brat!"
Sabo grinned. "You here to evaluate?"
"Nope."
Then Ace questioned, "Then why?"
Garp dropped a cloth-wrapped bundle.
"Dinner."
He moved and sat down beside them, grunting as he crossed his legs.
Luffy climbed onto his back like a monkey and started trying to braid his mustache.
Sabo passed him a bowl.
Ace handed him a roasted yam.
Krishna poured him tea — perfectly steeped, perfectly timed.
Garp blinked at it.
"Did you just—?"
"Yeah."
"Damn, you're worse than Dragon."
They sat like that for a while.
Garp telling stories they'd heard before but still laughed at.
Luffy asking him if he could beat a Sea King in a staring contest.
Sabo arguing about shipbuilding materials while secretly watching Ace.
Ace quietly leaned into Krishna without realizing it.
Krishna never said anything.
He just let it be.
At one point, Luffy declared, "GRANDPA IS OUR EVIL TRAINER!"
To which Garp responded by pile-driving him into a pillow and declaring, "AND YOU'RE MY DUMBASS LEGACY!"
They all collapsed laughing.
Even Krishna.
And Garp just sat there afterward, staring at the fire like it was telling the truth.
"They're not soldiers," he finally said.
"They're... something else."
Krishna nodded.
"They're brothers."
Garp looked at him again.
"What are you?"
Krishna met his eyes.
"Their shadow. Their fire. Their mirror."
Then softer.
"The one who doesn't burn so they can learn to."
And Garp — for the first time in a long time — didn't have an answer.
Just a quiet smile, too small for his face but too honest to ignore.
And he passed Krishna the last rice ball without a word.
And Garp watched across from them.
Not as a teacher.
Not as a Marine.
Just…
As a man, as a grandpa, watching a future that no longer belonged to him.
But he was proud of it anyway.
The sky above Mt. Hakobe was different now.
Not because it was darker.
Because it watched.
Two years had passed since the forest first bent under their footsteps.
Now?
It stood still in reverence.
A burst of flame split the ridge.
Ace blurred forward in Geppo, his body no longer just moving — it detonated into velocity.
His fists were coated black — not just coated, hardened, flexing mid-motion with adaptable control. Armament flowed across his shoulders and into his strikes like liquid fire.
His Conqueror's Haki didn't flare anymore.
It shaped the field.
Invisible, constant — like heat rising from stone.
He landed.
And smiled.
"Still too slow," he muttered.
Sabo reappeared beside him, no sound, no motion trail — just there.
Observation Haki laced through the wind like fingers on a harpstring. His foot barely touched the ground before redirecting.
Shigan was no longer a drill — it was a whisper.
A warning.
His Armament was lean, flexible — designed for cutting, not bruising.
"Too fast for you to see, huh?" he grinned.
Ace scowled. "I felt you."
"Close enough."
Then—
A tree bent unnaturally as something crashed through it.
"GOMU GOMU NO—WAIT—CRANE HEAD RUSH!"
Luffy flew overhead, hit a boulder, bounced off it like a spring-loaded cannon, and somehow landed in a perfect crouch.
His Observation had evolved into instinctual foresight — not quite future sight, but the kind of sixth sense that let him punch while laughing.
His Armament? Unpredictable. Wild. But it wrapped around his fists and legs like part of his soul now.
His sea water resistance?
He hadn't passed out in three plunges this week.
Progress.
"Guys!" he yelled, covered in dirt. "I added crane noises!"
Sabo and Ace facepalmed in sync.
The air shifted.
All three stopped.
Not because they heard something.
Because something stopped hearing them.
The world held its breath.
Then—
He stepped into the clearing.
Krishna.
Taller now. Leaner. Still barefoot.
But every step landed like a silent drumbeat — too heavy to be ignored, too smooth to be seen.
He didn't glow.
He didn't flare.
But the air bowed back from him.
Sabo whispered, "He's not walking."
Ace muttered, "He's descending."
Luffy's jaw dropped. "That's the coolest cape I've ever seen!"
Krishna wasn't wearing a cape.
It was just his aura.
Black and red lightning danced in his eyes — not around him, not crackling from the sky.
In his eyes.
Each flicker of Conqueror's Haki was like a divine heartbeat echoing from his bones.
No sound. No rage.
Just presence.
No one spoke.
Not even Luffy.
And for a brief second—
Even the mountain held still.
Two years began with one broken fist and a heart too proud to say "wait for me."
Now?
One walks with thunder in his eyes.
Three walk with fire in their veins.
And a mountain watches — not with judgment, but awe.
This wasn't just a training arc.
This was the day legends stopped crawling.
And began to walk toward the world.
Author's Note:
Yo, divine degenerates and dharmic dreamers—
This one cracked my bones in the best way.
Ace broke—but not to lose. To burn better.
Sabo found his rhythm—not in strength, but in silence.
Luffy… well, he yelled "Crane Head Rush" and somehow created a combat style based on snacks and instincts. So basically, he's winning.
And Krishna?
He stopped being a prodigy.
And started becoming a problem.
A divine, red-and-black-eyed, gravity-breaking problem.
The clash with Ace was the emotional core—but that final entrance?
That was pure aura farming. You know it. I know it. The mountain knows it.
If this chapter made your pulse skip, drop a comment, whisper "I see the lightning," or just send a seastone-scented rice ball into the void.
Next chapter?
The mountain will fall.
—Author out.
(Garp cried during the Conqueror's clash. He claims it was "smoke in his eye." Sabo collected it in a bottle. Luffy named it "Grandpa Water." It is now sacred.)