Chapter 48 – Teacher (Patreon)

The clash between Kyle and Roger had left more than just a mark on the Oro Jackson’s deck. It wasn’t a cut or dent from a blade, but something far subtler—a seed called “Aspiration”, deeply planted in the hearts of two young brats.

After the battle, the crew drank, boasted, and laughed heartily. Roger, however, found himself lectured once again by Rayleigh, who tugged firmly on his ear. “Captain, you shouldn’t use a ship-wrecking move like God Avoidance on the deck! The ship isn’t indestructible!”

Roger stubbornly argued, waving a hand dismissively. “It wasn’t a move! Just a normal… normal attack!”

Meanwhile, two small figures stood before Kyle, each barely reaching halfway to the railing, their bright eyes shining with anticipation.

“Brother Kyle!” Shanks spoke first, his voice full of excitement. “That move just now… was that an air explosion? So cool! Can I learn it too?”

Buggy, on the other hand, stared intensely at Kyle’s naginata, calculation running through his mind faster than lightning. He wasn’t thinking about whether it looked cool—no, he was already envisioning the treasure chests he could crack with a single swing of such power. Gold coins flying out with a bang… what a glorious scene.

Kyle, nonchalantly wiping the hilt of his blade, lifted not even an eyelid.

“Want to learn?”

“Yes!” Both shouted in unison, nodding their heads vigorously, as if pounding garlic.

Kyle finally stopped his motions, turning to face them. A smile curved on his lips, subtle yet deep. His gaze was unlike Roger’s unrestrained enthusiasm or Rayleigh’s gentle wisdom; it was like staring into a bottomless, ancient well. The brats felt a strange mixture of awe and guilt just by meeting his eyes.

“Why do you want to become stronger?” Kyle asked patiently.

Shanks puffed out his chest, almost shouting. “I want to become as strong as Captain Roger! Then I’ll search for the greatest treasure in the world—or no, embark on the greatest adventure!”

Kyle nodded. His gaze shifted to Buggy.

“And you?”

Buggy licked his lips, voice booming with determination. “I want to learn the strongest moves, defeat anyone in my way, and snatch all the treasures in the world! I want to be the richest pirate!”

Very good. Very spirited.

“Good,” Kyle said, a faint curve at the corner of his mouth. “But don’t expect Roger or Rayleigh to teach you properly.”

“Huh?” Shanks blinked, confused.

Kyle imitated the voices of his mentors perfectly: “Roger will just go ‘Kuhahaha, do this, then that!’ and drag you off to drink. Rayleigh will lecture with long-winded reasonings that make no sense to a child.”

Shanks and Buggy exchanged glances. Kyle’s words were disturbingly accurate. Every failed attempt to learn from Roger and Rayleigh flashed before their eyes.

“So, you want me to teach you?” Kyle asked.

They nodded frantically, hearts pounding.

“It’s about time… leave it to me!” Kyle agreed, unusually ready, making the two young pirates’ hearts skip a beat.

“But,” he added, a dangerous gleam in his smile, “my way of teaching is not like theirs.”

Kyle’s mind drifted back to his own first days aboard the Oro Jackson. He had been scrawny and fragile, subjected to Roger and Rayleigh’s brutal training plans. And yet… he had survived. He had endured rain, pain, and near-starvation.

If I endured that… then tearing others’ umbrellas to shreds is only fair.

“Come with me. Choose your weapons.”

The armory was a treasure trove of steel and wood, gleaming under the lantern light.

Shanks walked straight to a row of Western-style longswords, eyes immediately catching a saber reminiscent of Roger’s own Ace. He swung it twice, mimicking Roger perfectly, his face filled with longing. The inheritor of Roger’s legacy had begun his journey.

Buggy wandered. Longswords felt cumbersome, axes too barbaric. His gaze finally settled on a set of short, nimble daggers. He picked up two, weighing them in his hands with a self-satisfied grin. Quick, agile, perfect for ambushes and treasure raids. The schemer within him was alive.

“Chosen?” Kyle asked.

“Mm!” they both confirmed.

“Good,” Kyle nodded. “Starting tomorrow, your training begins officially.”

The two brats exchanged a glance, flames of rivalry and excitement burning in their eyes. They imagined a morning of dazzling sword techniques, incredible moves, and heroic lessons.

Reality, however, had other plans.

The next day, before dawn, a subtle, teeth-grinding buzzing jolted them awake. It wasn’t loud, but it resonated directly in their brains, as if the left hemisphere was attacking the right.

“Who is it?!” Buggy yelled, covering his head.

Shanks blinked groggily, only to see Kyle standing beside their bed, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Hehehe, five-minute deck assembly. Be one second late, and today’s training doubles,” Kyle said, turning to leave, leaving the brats bewildered.

By the time they stumbled onto the deck, there were no flashy moves waiting. Instead, Kyle’s cold words hit them like icy water.

“Run a hundred laps around the deck to warm up!”

Buggy’s eyes nearly popped. “O-one hundred laps? I’ll die!”

Kyle extended a finger, flicking it with precision. Buzz! A subtle shockwave hit Buggy’s backside, propelling him forward like a cannonball.

“My butt!” Buggy screamed.

Shanks, seeing no choice, ran after him, short legs pumping furiously.

Thus unfolded a peculiar sight on the Oro Jackson: two tiny brats running desperately while their “chief instructor” lounged under the mast, sipping orange juice, flicking his finger when Buggy lagged.

“This is child abuse!” Buggy cried, puffing along.

Kyle chuckled. “Back in the day, I told Roger the same thing, and he gave me a God Avoidance in return. If you have energy to shout, it means you haven’t reached your limit!”

Shanks whimpered. “Wuwuwu… Buggy, slow down!”

“I can’t! If I stop, I’ll get spanked!”

Crew members began emerging, laughing at the familiar chaos. Jabba approached Kyle. “You really have the heart for this. How old are they?”

Kyle sipped his orange juice casually. “What about it? The sea doesn’t go easy on anyone, not even kids. Besides… this is how I trained.”

After running a hundred laps, the brats collapsed, exhausted as two dehydrated salted fish. They thought it was over.

Kyle’s eyes gleamed as he glanced at the hourglass. “Five minutes rest. Then fifty frog jumps back and forth!”

“…What?”

“One hundred push-ups! No eating until finished!”

“…Go lift the ship’s anchor for me and hold it ten minutes!”

The two brats endured, learning firsthand the meaning of “inhuman” training. Kyle’s mastery of the Boba Fruit ensured no slacking was possible.

Evening arrived. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky crimson. Finally, the two were allowed rest.

Kyle leaned back, thinking, Be grateful. Back then, my evenings were filled with Devil Fruit training.

Buggy, tearfully shoveling food into his mouth, glared at Kyle, who was calmly playing chess with Rayleigh. Shanks, exhausted, ate silently, a newfound toughness burning in his small frame. He could feel power struggling to break free inside him, a fire ignited by pain and perseverance.

Roger, arriving with a platter of roasted meat, laughed heartily. “Kyle… is a devil!” Buggy muttered weakly.

Roger chuckled. “Kuhahaha! This is nothing! Not even close to the training Rayleigh and I had in store back then!”

Shoving the largest piece into Shanks’ mouth, Roger patted his head. “Kid, adventure isn’t easy. If you can’t endure this, you won’t survive the seas!”

Shanks chewed, nodding, taking today’s pain as a first step toward his dreams.

Kyle, focused on chess but keeping an eye on the brats, casually moved a piece. “Tomorrow morning… weighted running.”

Buggy’s spoon clattered onto his plate. “Noooooooo—!”


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