The boy who had once burned his noble clothes to ash now stood before a line of straw dummies in a forest clearing. Sabo was no longer that frail child of Goa's High Town—he was now a soldier of the Revolutionary Army.
Hack stood beside him, arms folded. "Focus. Again."
Sabo, now around ten years old, nodded. He thrust his fist forward, his whole body twisting with the motion.
"Dragon Fist – First Form!"
His punch cracked the dummy's chest, splinters flying. Not enough to break it—but enough to show promise.
Dragon Fist was a martial art unique to the Revolutionary Army—taught directly under Monkey D. Dragon and Hack. It was based on flowing movement, grounded power, and explosive strikes.
For months, Sabo trained under Hack's sharp discipline. He learned to balance his body, perfect his strikes, and flow like water in battle. Dragon occasionally observed, silent but watchful.
By the time Sabo was twelve, his body had transformed. Lean muscle ran across his frame, forged through years of harsh training. He could now leap over twenty feet, break boulders with punches, and had sprinting endurance to run for miles without tiring.
Hack began pushing him harder. "Time to step it up."
Sabo now practiced the Dragon Fist – Second Form, which included spinning elbow strikes and short-range bursts of energy. His flexibility improved through rigorous stretches, and he began training blindfolded to increase his reaction time.
As his technique grew sharper, he was introduced to heavier weights and brutal sparring matches with fellow recruits. His fists were constantly bruised—but he never stopped.
"You never back down," Koala said once, watching him through the infirmary door as he bandaged his own knuckles.
"Because I don't know what quitting means," he said with a grin.
While Sabo was advancing rapidly, Koala was no less determined. Though not as physically strong as him, she excelled in speed, agility, and precision. Her fighting style focused on clean strikes to pressure points and swift disarmament techniques.
Koala trained relentlessly in the Fishman Karate style, modified for human use. Under Hack's guidance, she learned to sense water movements and how to redirect force. Her kicks could now break bones and her stance was firm as a boulder.
In the training courtyard, she once knocked a grown recruit flat with a swift upward palm strike.
"Nice," Sabo commented, clapping.
Koala smirked. "You're not the only one working hard, hotshot."
They sparred often, pushing each other, growing stronger not just as comrades—but as future leaders of the Revolution.
Dragon finally stepped in during Sabo's thirteenth year.
"You've earned the right to begin Haki training."
Sabo's eyes widened. "Really?"
Dragon nodded. "But be warned. This is not physical. This is internal. It requires patience, control, and clarity."
Sabo was taken deep into a canyon surrounded by silence. There, he sat cross-legged on a stone platform.
Observation Haki came first. He was taught to listen—not with his ears, but his senses. Hack guided him.
"Close your eyes. Count every living thing around you."
At first, all he sensed was his own heartbeat. Then, the chirp of birds. The breath of wind. And finally…
"There's a rabbit in the brush," he whispered.
Hack nodded. "Good. Observation Haki starts with presence."
He trained for weeks until he could track sparring partners blindfolded. He began noticing shifts in intent—feeling killing intent before blades were drawn.
Next came Armament Haki.
Hack struck his shoulder with a padded staff. "Harden your will. Visualize it."
He tried and failed for days. His arms would tremble, but the coating never appeared.
Until one day, while protecting Koala from an ambush during a mission, something surged in him.
He blocked a blade with his forearm—and the sword shattered.
A thin coating of black shimmered across his skin.
"Basic Armament…" Hack said with pride. "He's done it."
By fifteen, Sabo had begun going on solo missions. Rescuing slaves, gathering intel, infiltrating corrupt ports.
He didn't remember Ace or Luffy yet—but he felt a familiar ache whenever he saw siblings in pain.
Dragon once found him standing over a ruined shipyard, bloodied and grinning. "They were using children as workers," Sabo explained.
"You're reckless," Dragon said. "But your heart is in the right place."
They sat atop a hill that night, looking over the sea.
"Someday," Dragon said, "you'll be the chief of staff. My right hand."
Sabo blinked. "Me?"
"You have the heart of a warrior and the mind of a leader."
Sabo smiled. "Then I'll fight to change the world."
While the Straw Hat Pirates were still training on their ship, unaware of the revolution brewing, Sabo was shaping into a key player behind the scenes.
He never stopped training. He developed Dragon Fist – Third Form, incorporating air kicks that launched him mid-air. Combined with his growing control of Observation and Armament Haki, he was already stronger than many Marines.
But still… his dreams were hazy.
He saw two boys in flashes—one made of fire, the other stretching like rubber.
"Who are you…?" he would whisper at night.
Now – Baltigo Base
Koala sat beside Sabo, now 17. They overlooked the sea from a balcony at the Revolutionary base.
"Someday," she said, "you'll meet whoever it is you're trying to remember."
"I hope so," he whispered. "Because I have this ache in my heart… like I made a promise I never fulfilled."
Koala gently touched his hand.
"And we'll be there to help you when you do."
She smiled, and the wind ruffled his blonde hair.
For now, he didn't know the full truth. Not yet. But the boy who once burned his cage now burned with purpose.
And fate… was preparing for their reunion.