The recruits on the training ground stood in stunned silence. The healthy flush from their exertion had drained from their faces, leaving them pale.
They had initially assumed Ace was some kind of "ringer"—a secret weapon brought in by Vice Admiral Garp to shatter their morale, much like the elite officers who occasionally appeared for "inspirational" beatdowns.
Now, they realized how wrong they were.
"He... he really just *watched* once and..." a recruit stammered, his practice sword clattering unnoticed to the ground.
Koby cradled his broken finger, but his eyes burned with a terrifying, awestruck light. "He's incredible... Is this what a true genius looks like?"
In the ranks, the veteran who had mocked Ace earlier looked as if he'd seen a ghost. He stared down at his own calloused, trembling hands—hands that had only barely grasped a fraction of the Rokushiki after five years of hellish training. They felt utterly worthless in the face of that young man's casual prowess.
"We wake up at 4 a.m. every single day..."
"We throw ten thousand punches just to understand the most basic force application..."
"And he... he just *glanced* at it?"
The recruits' minds reeled. Their eyes were a chaotic mix of shock, bitter resentment, and a crushing sense of inferiority. The gap was simply too vast to comprehend.
At that moment,
Inside the Fleet Admiral's office, Sengoku was buried under a mountain of paperwork, a throbbing vein prominent on his forehead.
Suddenly, the door burst open and a panicked adjutant rushed in.
"F-Fleet Admiral! Reporting!" the adjutant's voice was shrill with disbelief. "That Fire Fist Ace... he..."
Sengoku didn't bother looking up, waving a dismissive hand. "What has he broken now?"
"He... he watched a single demonstration of the Rokushiki and... he's *mastered* it!" The adjutant swallowed hard. "The training ground is in chaos!"
*Clatter.*
The pen in Sengoku's hand fell onto the documents, a blot of ink spreading rapidly. He slowly raised his head, his face a mask of pure incredulity. "Say that again."
"Ace watched *one* demonstration and can now perform the entire Rokushiki flawlessly! Even Mr. Bogard has confirmed it!"
Sengoku's temple throbbed violently. "Preposterous! It takes our most gifted Marines *years* to fully master the Six Powers!" He shot to his feet. "He learns it by *watching*? How can such a monster exist?!"
The adjutant wiped cold sweat from his brow. "Vice Admiral Garp personally confirmed... he has never seen Ace train in the Rokushiki..."
Sengoku slumped back into his chair, his signature goatee seeming to bristle. He removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose, his mind struggling to process the information.
"Could it be..." Sengoku's voice held a rare tremor, "...that boy is truly a... once-in-a-century prodigy?"
Within moments,
The news that Ace had learned the Rokushiki in a single glance swept through Marineford like a tsunami. Officers gathered in hushed, anxious groups, their faces etched with disbelief.
"Did you hear? That Fire Fist Ace..."
"Learned the Six Powers by *watching*? You're joking!"
"Then what was the point of all our blood, sweat, and tears?!"
In a Vice Admiral's office, a teacup was slammed onto a desk. Vice Admiral Momonga's brow was furrowed, his normally stoic face contorted with anger. "Absurd!"
He stood abruptly. "The Rokushiki is the ultimate physical art, honed by generations of Marines with their lives! A pirate, utterly untrained, masters it by *observation*?!"
The reporting soldier flinched. "But, sir... the recruits on the training ground all witnessed it..."
"What do recruits know?!" Momonga cut him off sharply, his fingers unconsciously tracing the hilt of his sword. "Garp must have been teaching him in secret, and now they're putting on this charade..."
But as the soldier detailed how Ace had used a freshly-learned Shigan to shatter a veteran's finger, and then fluidly demonstrated the full repertoire of the Six Powers, Momonga's expression slowly hardened.
"Are you certain... he truly utilized both Tekkai and Kami-e?"
"Without a doubt, sir! Mr. Bogard was speechless!"
Momonga's pupils contracted. Years of battlefield instinct screamed that this was no simple matter. He snatched his marine cap from the desk. "Let's go! I will see this 'prodigy' for myself!"
His steps quickened in the corridor. If the rumors were true... if such a talent genuinely existed...
"A pirate, mastering the Marines' ultimate techniques..." Momonga's knuckles turned white, "What face would the Marines have left?!"
Soon, Vice Admiral Momonga arrived at the recruit training ground overseen by Garp.
Even from a distance, he could hear the constant buzz of excited shouts from within. He quickened his pace, a thought flashing through his mind: *Why is it so lively here today?*
Pushing open the heavy iron gate, the sight that greeted him made the battle-hardened Vice Admiral freeze in his tracks.
Ace stood at the center of the field, surrounded by a captivated audience of recruits. He was meticulously explaining the mechanics of Soru.
"The key is the instantaneous explosive power of the leg muscles," Ace demonstrated as he spoke. "It's not just moving fast. It's about kicking off the ground dozens of times within 0.36 seconds."
His figure vanished from his original position, only to reappear at the far end of the training ground in the blink of an eye, a cloud of dust rising in his wake.
Vice Admiral Momonga's eyes narrowed. That was textbook-perfect Soru.
And the fluidity of the movement was far beyond any beginner's level. He instinctively looked toward Garp, who stood at the sidelines, arms crossed, beaming with pride.
"Yo, Momonga! Perfect timing!" Garp's booming voice echoed across the grounds. "Take a look at this kid! Quite the talent, wouldn't you say?"
Vice Admiral Momonga strode to Garp's side, his voice low and serious. "Vice Admiral Garp. You are well aware of the implications of privately teaching the Rokushiki to a pirate." His gaze flicked to the faint marks left by Seastone cuffs on Ace's wrists. "Especially to a Devil Fruit user who is our prisoner."
"WAHAHAHA!" Garp's laughter seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. "Prisoner, schmisoner! Ace has applied for the Shichibukai! The Warlords are not our enemies!"
Garp's proud gaze settled back on Ace. "And besides, I didn't teach him a thing. The kid figured it all out on his own, just from watching." He grinned, a wide, unrepentant slash across his face. "You won't find another talent like him in all of Marineford!"
Vice Admiral Momonga's expression grew grave. He watched intently as Ace, in the center of the field, was now explaining the breathing techniques for Tekkai to a starry-eyed recruit. His demeanor was that of a seasoned master, not a novice who had just encountered the forms.
"Vice Admiral Garp," Momonga said, his voice deep and resonant. "The Rokushiki is a physical art refined through generations of brutal trial and error. It cannot be mastered by simply 'watching a few times.'"
He unfastened his Justice Cloak, letting it fall to the ground and revealing a physique honed by decades of war. "How about I, a Vice Admiral, personally test the validity of his 'instant mastery'?"
....
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