The moon hung high above the shoreline.
Silver light spilled across the sea.
Waves rolled lazily onto the sand.
And one stubborn green-haired boy continued running.
At first, Zoro had plenty of complaints.
Why am I running?
Wasn’t I supposed to be learning swordsmanship?
How does any of this make sense?
After a few laps, those thoughts became much simpler.
Keep running.
Don’t stop.
Just one more lap.
As exhaustion mounted, even those thoughts disappeared.
Only effort remained.
His legs felt like lead.
His lungs burned with every breath.
Sweat soaked through his clothes.
The wooden sword hanging at his waist somehow felt heavier than an anchor.
Still, he kept moving.
Because quitting wasn’t an option.
Because Ian was watching.
Because becoming stronger mattered more than comfort.
And because somewhere deep inside, his pride refused to let him stop.
One more lap.
Just one more.
Then another.
And another.
The beach became a blur.
The moon became a blur.
The entire world narrowed to the sound of his footsteps and the pounding of his heart.
Then—
His body finally gave out.
Zoro stumbled.
Tried to catch himself.
Failed.
And crashed face-first into the sand.
“Ugh…”
Everything hurt.
His arms hurt.
His legs hurt.
His back hurt.
Even blinking felt exhausting.
A shadow fell across him.
Ian.
The traveler glanced down.
“Twenty laps.”
Zoro groaned.
“…Mm.”
“Not bad.”
The boy’s ears twitched slightly.
A compliment.
Even a small one.
“You probably would’ve collapsed around fifteen.”
Ian crouched beside him.
“The last five happened because you forced yourself forward through sheer willpower.”
Despite his exhaustion, Zoro felt a spark of satisfaction.
Not enough to smile.
But enough to remember.
“Still,” Ian continued, taking a sip from his bottle, “it’s nowhere near enough.”
There it was.
The praise had lasted approximately three seconds.
“A swordsman isn’t supported by technique alone.”
Ian pointed toward the harbor.
“Power needs a body.”
“Speed needs a body.”
“Endurance needs a body.”
“Without a foundation, everything else eventually collapses.”
Zoro lay there quietly, listening.
This part made sense.
More sense than he’d expected.
“Right now, your body is weak.”
The statement was blunt.
Brutal, even.
But it wasn’t wrong.
The boy hated how accurate it was.
“Fortunately,” Ian continued, “you’re still young.”
“So you’ve got time.”
The sea breeze drifted across the beach.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Ian pointed toward the harbor.
“See those docks?”
Zoro squinted.
“Yeah.”
“What keeps them standing?”
The question felt completely random.
“Wood?”
“No.”
“Stone?”
“No.”
Zoro frowned.
“Then what?”
“The foundation underneath.”
Ian tapped the sand beneath them.
“Everything above ground exists because of what was built below it.”
His gaze shifted toward the exhausted boy.
“A swordsman is exactly the same.”
The words settled into the night air.
Technique mattered.
Talent mattered.
But without a body capable of supporting them, neither could reach its full potential.
For the first time, Zoro began to understand.
Maybe the running wasn’t pointless after all.
After several minutes of lying motionless, he finally managed to sit up.
“Then…”
His voice sounded terrible.
“What do I do now?”
Ian looked genuinely impressed.
“Still thinking clearly?”
Zoro shot him a weak glare.
“Barely.”
“Hah.”
The traveler laughed.
“Good.”
Then his expression became serious.
“From today onward, thirty laps.”
Zoro froze.
“What?”
“Thirty.”
“Every day?”
“Every day.”
The boy stared at him in horror.
“That’s impossible!”
“You just ran twenty.”
“And nearly died!”
“You didn’t die.”
“I felt like I did!”
“Close enough.”
The conversation wasn’t helping.
Zoro buried his face in his hands.
Thirty laps.
Every single day.
That sounded less like training and more like a particularly creative execution method.
Ian couldn’t help laughing.
The look on the boy’s face was priceless.
“Relax.”
He reached over and ruffled Zoro’s hair.
Again.
To the young swordsman’s eternal frustration.
“You’ll manage.”
The confidence in Ian’s voice was strangely reassuring.
Eventually, the traveler stood.
“One more thing.”
Zoro looked up.
“I never actually introduced myself properly.”
Fair enough.
“I’m Ian Gale.”
The sea breeze tugged at his white coat.
“A traveler.”
For some reason, the title suited him perfectly.
Ian glanced toward the horizon.
“Whether you become my student or not is still your choice.”
“I don’t stay anywhere forever.”
“Teaching you isn’t some great responsibility.”
“It’s simply something I decided to do.”
The words were casual.
Almost carefree.
Yet somehow that made them feel more genuine.
Zoro listened in silence.
Then Ian tossed him a bottle.
The boy barely caught it.
“Drink if you want.”
Ian stretched and yawned.
“I’m going to sleep.”
And with that, he headed back toward the ship.
Moments later, the cabin door closed behind him.
Leaving Zoro alone beneath the stars.
The boy stared down at the bottle in his hands.
Alcohol.
His previous experience with it had been…
Unpleasant.
Mostly burning.
A lot of burning.
Still.
He was thirsty.
Very thirsty.
“Just one sip.”
A phrase responsible for countless poor decisions throughout history.
After several seconds of internal debate, Zoro uncorked the bottle and took a cautious drink.
Warmth slid down his throat.
Not painful this time.
Not even close.
Instead, it felt…
Comfortable.
The warmth spread through his exhausted body.
His aching muscles relaxed slightly.
The fatigue didn’t disappear, but it became easier to tolerate.
His eyes widened.
“…Huh.”
He took another sip.
Then another.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
“This is good.”
A revelation had occurred.
An important one.
Possibly a disastrous one.
“Now I get it.”
The future swordsman stared at the bottle with newfound respect.
“No wonder adults drink this stuff.”
Far away inside the cabin, Ian slept peacefully.
Completely unaware that he had accidentally introduced Zoro to one of his future favorite hobbies.
Somewhere in the distance, fate quietly laughed.
The next morning, Ian stepped onto the deck and immediately spotted an empty bottle lying in the sand.
He picked it up.
Shook it.
Nothing.
Not a single drop remained.
Ian blinked.
Then blinked again.
“The kid drank all of it?”
That was impressive.
Concerning.
But definitely impressive.
He chuckled and tossed the bottle into a storage crate.
“Maybe I should keep an eye on that.”
The village was already awake by the time he arrived in town.
Merchants opened their stalls.
Children ran through the streets.
The scent of breakfast drifted through the morning air.
As usual, Ian’s first priority involved acquiring supplies.
More specifically—
Alcohol.
A traveler had standards.
Not long afterward, he received an unexpected invitation.
“Mr.
Ian!”
The village chief waved him over enthusiastically.
The elderly man wore a warm smile and carried the relaxed confidence of someone respected by everyone around him.
Ian pointed at himself.
“Me?”
“Of course you.”
The chief laughed.
“You’ve become quite popular around here.”
“Well.”
Ian grinned.
“Who am I to reject hospitality?”
“Excellent!”
The old man looked genuinely delighted.
“My wife has been cooking all morning.”
Now that was impossible to refuse.
Lunch turned into a long and enjoyable conversation.
The food was excellent.
The company even better.
As often happened in small villages, the discussion wandered naturally from topic to topic.
Fishing.
Trade.
Travel.
Weather.
Village gossip.
Eventually, they arrived at the subject Ian had been quietly waiting for.
Isshin Dojo.
“Koushirou has been unusually busy lately,” the village chief said.
“Though I expect he’ll have more free time soon.”
Ian sipped his tea.
“Koushirou seems highly respected around here.”
The chief laughed.
“That’s because he earned it.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.”
The old man leaned back comfortably.
“Students come from all across East Blue to learn from him.”
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Ian’s smile widened slightly.
“Maybe I should pay him a visit.”
“Oh?”
The chief looked surprised.
“You’re interested in swordsmanship?”
“A little.”
That was technically true.
Three days ago, he knew almost nothing about swords.
Now he possessed enough knowledge to qualify as a legitimate swordsman.
Life moved quickly.
“I’ve heard he’s skilled.”
The chief chuckled.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Ian’s eyes gleamed.
Ever since arriving in Shimotsuki Village, Koushirou had occupied a special place in his thoughts.
The Legendary Navigator System practically screamed that the dojo master was important.
If meeting Zoro had granted fifteen percent progress, then meeting Koushirou would almost certainly be worth even more.
And beyond that—
Ian was genuinely curious.
Swordsmanship Level 5.
Assassin Seven Sword Intent.
A hidden master living quietly in East Blue.
How did he measure up?
There was only one way to find out.
The sea was filled with stories.
And Ian intended to experience every interesting one he could find.