"Wow, they finally found the One Piece, huh!... By the way, these newspaper editors; they sure have omitted a lot of details. It's all kept vague. Nothing is mentioned about Roger's background, even his name is modified. Did the government put them up to this?"
Reading the news about One Piece being found, Sear felt truly part of this world.
"Sigh! Well, all things considered, compared to watching it through a screen, living this experience really is surreal. Though a certain somebody may not feel the same..."
His marine father stood at a distance, with a deadpan expression that didn't exactly pronounce enthusiasm.
"Hmm!! Not in high spirits, I see!!... What's the matter? Did a dog bite you?"
"????"
Standing before his deflated father, he questioned, pretending as if he was curious.
'This kid really has no filter.' Forced out of his stupor, Jacob thought at his son's audacity...
Despite the obvious sarcasm, the poor father decided not to cling to the matter. "Just shut your mouth! You sharp-tongued brat! I am not in the mood right now and, moreover, can't you read? I thought you learned to read and write when you were just three..."
"Oh, I read the newspaper. Heh, are you scared?" Sear asked with a sly smile, further annoying the other party.
"Hmph! Who's scared! It's just that this event will lead to more idiots going to sea, becoming pirates, committing crimes; looting, pillaging, seeking treasures and whatnot. Can you imagine how many lives will be destroyed?.. Though who am I even explaining this to? A brat like you wouldn't understand."
Jacob started to go on a tantrum. "Sigh! Those pirate bastards. Oops!!" Jacob promptly shut his mouth, thinking he had accidentally cussed before a seemingly impressionable kid, but safe to say, that only made him look goofy.
'I need to be more careful around him. If his mother were still alive, she would have killed me... Ooh, scary! Sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it...' he reprimanded himself silently.
The boy shook his head, honestly amused by his father who was at a loss for words.
Then, considering what Jacob had said:
"One's freedom is another's nightmare, huh?" he blurted out, unintentionally.
Like many other of his sporadic insights, he had only a surface-level understanding of this quote with no recollection as to who said it or where he learned it from, yet he felt that it perfectly resonated with the situation.
Jacob, hearing what his son said, was genuinely impressed. As a father, he could not help but praise.
"That's right, son! You likely heard that quote in passing somewhere, but having such a thoughtful side is great. So remember, as you get older, don't go around admiring criminal activities; become a marine like your father when you grow up, got it!?"
Being the brainwashed marine he was, he inevitably had to steer the topic into a marine recruitment ad.
But Sear wasn't persuaded. "Well, too bad, as if I would ever join that boring group!"
Hearing this, Jacob sighed regrettably. 'As expected, my attempt failed. Well, no sweat, there's always a next time...' Although disappointed, he hadn't given up. Nothing could dissuade the stubborn man.
And in spite of the rejection, being a father, he still patted his son's head.
"Well, it's an important decision; we can take it slow. Besides, I nearly forgot why I actually came to the village in the first place. I had come to meet Koushirou, heard he returned and has inherited the dojo recently... not to mention he will be your sensei in the near future."
He went on. "Matter of fact, it wouldn't hurt to let you meet him beforehand. We can go there, right now..."
. . .
Together, the pair arrived at the gates of the dojo and, without prior notice, seemingly barged inside the property. No permission, no formalities, no nothing.
The boy followed his father's lead, picking up these kinds of strange habits in the process.
—Unsprisingly, dojo master Koushirou wasn't very thrilled by the unannounced entry of the two, yet, surprisingly, he was relatively calm at the moment.
After listening to what Sear's dad had to say, he readily agreed to let Sear stay in the dojo. "Well, starting today, he can join the training in advance."
"Is that really fine?" Jacob asked, not having expected it to go so smoothly.
"Haha! It's perfectly fine. In any case, starting today, I will be guiding some new pupils; he will fit right in with them. As you know, we also function as a hostel for the disciples needing a home. Looking after one more child is perfectly manageable."
Hearing this made Jacob overjoyed. "Thanks a lot. I really appreciate your help... you see, nowadays, I was even starting to consider whether I should take him to Loughton with me. I am stationed there, at the marine base. Till now, the villagers looked after him by taking turns. He is obedient and knows how to look after himself, but it doesn't seem right to burden them any longer."
Like that, Sear's admission to the dojo was jointly decided by the two adults. Jacob then left the dojo, entrusting the boy to Koushirou, saying he had some unfinished business for the time being before leaving.
After some time, the other pupils also arrived, thus commencing the training.
. . .
Sear and the other new students were gathered in the training hall. The floor here, like the rest of the house, was made out of wood. They stood in lines with sufficient space separating each trainee.
Their practice katanas were aimed at the front. That's the neutral posture before a strike, a steady stance, ready to either attack or defend. Both hands tightly held their practice katana, made entirely out of wood.
They closely followed dojo master Koushirou's instructions. At the moment, his voice was unusually commanding.
"First of all, root your legs to the land. Firm but flexible posture is one of the most necessary skills to have as a swordsman. Even a split moment of disbalance in your posture can be fatal during crucial situations."
When the normally gentle and soft-spoken dojo master talked in such a serious tone, it left a deeper impression, especially on the young minds, who were not very used to experiencing such a drastic shift in attitude.
They keenly listened as he spoke.
"Every blade has only a finite number of ways you can swing it, and using different combinations, every person develops a pattern to their blade; that is what you call a style. Naturally, our Shimotsuki dojo also has a distinct style. It's a swift and effective tool for vanquishing our foes, honed and time-tested through unique trials and errors."
"However, be that as it may, personal preference and habits have greater influence over each person's style. Simply put, the style is nothing more than a recipe; it can only act as a reference. So the training always has to start with the very basics."
"As there are only so many ways to swing a single blade, you will simply start off by learning how to perform each of the individual sword strikes. Those are the different diagonal, vertical, and horizontal slashes, as well as the various ways to thrust the blade forward to plunge it into your enemies."
Koushirou only took a few breaths while giving the speech; it was like he had already done this numerous times before.
Regarding the different sword movements, Sear wasn't alien to this concept. In his past life too, he had wielded a short blade, though its use was very limited in modern combat.
In particular, Sear had trained to swing the nine basic strokes to perfection.
Wielding a blade was a skill passed down through generations in his family. His own grandfather had been his teacher.
Being a sickly kid all his early childhood, his parents would be out for work, and he would be in the care of his grandpa. Those were some difficult but also memorable days of his life.
Growing up, he suffered from a plethora of health issues; difficulty breathing, getting tired quickly, etc. resulting in an overall weak physique. Therefore, his grandpa had helped him in strengthening his body.
The traditional swordplay of his family was one of the physical exercises he did. He still clearly remembered a fair number of things.
Having said that, his knowledge wasn't extensive. Far from a skilled sword wielder, he was essentially a glorified novice, so he needed to hone his skill a lot further if he wanted to survive in the harsh open seas. Not to mention the Grand Line and the New World; even the calmer East Blue was teeming with hidden dangers. It was very well possible for him to run into a big-shot pirate or marine and casually have his life shortened on a whim.
Learning everything possible from a master like Koushirou was a must. Therefore, from this moment, Sear was going to make it his utmost priority.
Meanwhile, the training went on as the new disciples steadily focused their body and mind.
"Haaaaaa!!!!!!" they shouted in unison as they vertically swung their swords forward. Arms and eyes focused straight, and every time they swung, their right leg took a small step and retreated afterwards as instructed.
Being that it was their first day, Koushirou had started off the training by instructing them on how to simply get a firm hold of a sword. He was delighted seeing their dedication; a smile tugged at his lips.
The practice included just them trying to master a proper single strike. Some may think such training was redundant — as what could a predictable straight-motion strike achieve in a real battle situation that is inherently unpredictable? However, know that practicality was not the goal of this specific training method.
It was discipline! In every field, repetition creates discipline, which in turn creates consistent results. Most fail right at this step. To be good at anything, mastering one's mind was essential.