We had just docked.
"Not a bad place." Beckman said, glancing around.
"Yeah, it's nice." I replied, and we began walking through the town.
As we moved forward, a child who had been playing suddenly bumped into me by accident.
"Sorry, mister—whoa, you're so... strange." the kid said, tilting his head up in surprise. Then, with a smile, he added, "Here, take an orange to say sorry!" He tossed it toward me and ran back to his friends without waiting for a response.
I caught the orange mid-air and took a bite. 'Refreshing.'
We continued walking.
The village was far from isolated. Kokoyashi was bustling with life, filled not only with the local townsfolk but also with travelers, foreigners.
After getting a feel for the place and exploring the streets, we eventually found a quiet spot just outside the busier areas where we could settle down and train. It was a wide clearing near the edge of town, partially shaded by trees, with flat terrain, perfect for practice.
On the way there, we passed by a group of young Marine recruits in uniform, fresh-faced and likely not long out of training.
"Well, well." Mihawk said, eyeing them.
"Exactly what we needed." Beckman added with a smirk.
"Indeed." I said, watching the group. "They'll point us to the 16th Branch base."
"But before that, we need to train." I said, my voice calm but firm. "Lately, we've only done it at sea—"
I glanced at Mihawk and Beckman.
"—which limits your movements... unlike me."
Mihawk crossed his arms, slightly narrowing his eyes. "Tss. You're right."
Beckman gave a slow nod, a faint smile on his lips as he lit a cigarette. "Fair enough. I've been feeling a little too... buoyant lately."
I stepped into the open clearing and looked over the space.
"Then let's make the most of the land while we have it."
And just like that, we started to spar. No words, no signal.
In an instant, it turned into a two-against-one. Them, Mihawk and Beckman, against me.
Mihawk moved in first, blade flashing with precision. I ducked under it, only to find Beckman already circling, using his rifle to limit my space.
"Hah... you're serious," I said under my breath, blocking Mihawk's strike with my forearm while spinning to avoid Beckman's shot.
"You said train, didn't you?" Beckman smirked, accelerating the pace.
Beckman was firing faster now. Each time I dodged Mihawk's blade swipes, a bullet would follow close behind, forcing me to twist, duck, or absorb the impact.
Mihawk kept the pressure up. His strikes weren't wild, every slash was measured. He was forcing me into a specific rhythm, creating openings Beckman could exploit from range. It was coordinated. These two weren't just sparring, they were hunting me like a wolfpack.
Still, I held my own.
I moved through Mihawk's attacks, parrying with my forearms, legs, even redirecting his blade with the flat of my hand. I was stronger, more durable. I landed a few clean hits, enough to stagger him or force him back. But every time I thought I could press in, bang!, Beckman's rifle would bark, and I'd have to disengage.
Tss, I clicked my tongue, ducking under a shot that barely got me. 'If I don't close that gap with Beckman soon, I'll be stuck dancing like this forever.'
I made a decision.
I caught Mihawk's next strike, not with my hand, but by stepping into it, forcing it to get stuck in the ground, followed by a kick to Mihawk's stomach, it gave me the opening I needed,
I used the momentum to twist around, my body low, and burst forward like a cannonball, straight toward Beckman.
His eyes widened just slightly before he fired again.
I knocked the shot off-course with my forearm. Then I was on him.
He tried to step back, reload, but I grabbed the barrel of his rifle and yanked it aside. My fist was already flying toward his gut—
—when Mihawk's blade came singing toward my back.
I twisted mid-strike, ducking again, this time I headbutted him, that stopped him. "Not bad at all." I say.
Mihawk smirked faintly, blade low. "You're not bad either… Captain."
Beckman sat up, lighting another cigarette with his usual calm. "That was intense." he said, exhaling smoke. "But we're getting better."
As we caught our breath, Mihawk spoke up, his voice as calm and analytical as ever.
"Your skin." he said, eyeing me with that sharp gaze of his. "It's gotten tougher. But at the same time… it still has that soft, almost oily texture to it. Makes it hard to pierce cleanly with a blade."
I looked down at my arm.
"Yeah." I muttered. "I've noticed that too. Blades tend to slide more than they sink."
Beckman chuckled lightly, wiping sweat from his brow as he leaned against a tree. "Durable skin, some kind of natural resistance. You can tank hits like that and still charge straight through."
"It's a gift." I said with a faint grin. "But I'll need more than thick skin."
Mihawk nodded once. "True. But it's a start."
I felt the fire in my blood still burning. "Anyway, let's go get something to eat." I said, glancing up at the sky, now painted in deep shades of navy and purple. The buzz of the village had quieted into a calmer evening hum.
The transition from bright day to night had crept up on us. We'd been training for hours.
"Yeah." Beckman stretched his arms behind his head, his movements lazy but satisfied. "I could eat a whole damn sea king right now."
Mihawk sheathed his blade, his expression as composed as ever. "I know a place. Passed it earlier near the market square. Looked clean... and had wine."
"Lead the way then." I said, rotating my shoulder with a grunt.
We started walking down the torch-lit streets of Kokoyashi, the scent of grilled fish and spiced broth wafting through the air. The lanterns hanging from stalls danced with the ocean breeze, and in the distance, the laughter of villagers drifted through the night.