ONE PIECE: WORTHLESS PROGRESSION

__________________________________________________________________

___________________________________

The chapter got you itching for more? Read ahead and get exclusive content before anyone else? Join me on Patr -e-on! Your support would mean the world to me.

( | [email protected]/FictionGoat | )

. . . .

__________________________________________________________________

___________________________________

Dragon asked a few more pointed questions, each one met with a nervous but eager response from the captain. The man was more than happy to divulge everything he knew, clearly relieved that Dragon hadn't just left him and his crew to the sharks.

After a few more minutes of interrogation, Dragon nodded in satisfaction. "That's all I need. You're free to go." He gave a quick gesture to the crew, signaling for the pirates to be untied.

The captain scrambled to his feet, barely able to look Dragon in the eye. "T-Thank you," he stammered, his gratitude mixed with fear. "We'll be gone before you know it. I swear."

Dragon didn't reply, his focus shifting to the pirates' weapons scattered around. Dragon raised his hand and in an instant, a gust of wind swirled around the deck, lifting the discarded weapons from the ship and pulling them toward him.

Swords, pistols, axes...everything was gathered in the air, spinning in a controlled vortex above Dragon's outstretched hand. The weapons hovered for a moment.

Then dropping his arm, the weapons came crashing to the deck with a clank, the pile landing neatly in front of him. He looked at the crew. "Get these into the weapons area. Make sure they're properly stored and accounted for. We're gonna need them later," Dragon ordered, leaving no room for debate.

Some of the crew sprang into action, grabbing the weapons and heading below deck.

Toshi watched as the pirate crew scrambled going back onto their ship. It was strange, Toshi thought. A ship full of men that had once thought they were invincible, now reduced to nothing more than scared survivors.

They set sail, drifting into the fog, the world around them swallowed by a grey mist. It felt like they were vanishing from everything they knew—maybe even from everything that could find them. But as the ship cut through the quiet, something lingered at the back of Toshi's mind. ' Wouldn't they just go back to what they were doing before? '

The thought gnawed at him, unsettling in its simplicity. People didn't change overnight. Even if they disappeared into the fog, what was to stop them from coming back to finish what they started?

He glanced over at Dragon. "Hey, why didn't you just capture them? They're pirates, right? They'll just start up again."

Dragon didn't immediately respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, after a long moment, he turned his head slightly, just enough to meet Toshi's gaze. His voice was quiet, almost dismissive, but there was a certainty in it that made Toshi pause.

"No," Dragon said. "I could see it in their eyes. They're broken. They don't have the will to fight anymore."

Toshi blinked, taken aback by the answer. He had expected something else—maybe a strategic reason, or something more tactical. But broken?

"Broken?" he repeated, confused. "What do you mean, broken?"

Dragon's gaze never wavered from the horizon, his expression distant, almost unreadable. "When you've been through enough, you stop fighting," he said, before continuing. "It's not about dying anymore. It's about being too tired, too beaten, to fight. That's worse than any death or punishment. Their will's gone. There's nothing left for them."

Toshi stood in silence for a moment, the words hanging in the air like the thick fog that surrounded them. He tried to process what Dragon had said, but it felt heavier than he was ready for. 

"Guess that's one way to defeat someone," Toshi muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Dragon to hear. The idea sat with him, unsettling in a way he couldn't shake.

And just like that, they set sail, the ship cutting a slow path through the dense, suffocating fog.

. . . . .

____________________________________

_________________

[ Two Day's Later.... ]

*CLACK* *CLACK*

Toshi lunged forward, his wooden sword gripped tight in his hand. Each step reverberated through the worn floor, the wood creaking beneath his weight.

He swung upward, the blade cutting through the air with a focused, sharp motion. His target was clear—the red-haired woman standing before him. The tip of his sword aimed directly for her face.

But Rose was quicker. She stepped back, her body swaying slightly to the side as her head tilted just enough for the blade to whistle past her. The air hummed with the close miss.

Before Toshi could adjust, she was already moving. Lowering herself in one swift motion, she dropped beneath his swing, leaving him open and exposed. His balance wavered as he struggled to regain control, but it was already too late.

Rose's sword shifted forward, the tip darting into his gut with precision. The wooden blade met flesh, and Toshi's breath was stolen in an instant. The sharp sting of the strike flung him back, the impact momentarily leaving him breathless, vulnerable. He crashed to the floor with a thud, the impact knocking him flat on his back.

His chest heaved with each breath, air rushing in and out as his body fought to recover. Sweat drenched him, pooling beneath him on the floor, a clear indication to the exhaustion that had already begun to settle deep in his bones. His grip on the wooden sword loosened, and it clattered to the side, forgotten.

"I give up..." Toshi groaned, the words escaping him with difficulty. His body felt heavy, every movement sluggish and slow. The sting in his gut burned, and the ache in his chest was a constant reminder of how outmatched he was.

Rose stood over him, her face impassive, watching him as he lay there, struggling. Without a word, she extended her hand toward him, the gesture calm and patient. Toshi stared at it for a moment, unsure whether to take it or not.

Toshi winced as pain shot through his gut, making it hard to move. Every attempt to push himself up only made the discomfort worse. The thought of standing left him lightheaded, as if the floor was pulling him down.

"Nah... Nah, I'm just gonna stay here. It feels comfortable," Toshi muttered, weakly swatting at her hand. His arms and legs felt like they were made of lead, too heavy to lift, too sore to move. Being on the receiving end of a blow like that was no joke.

Rose didn't argue. She simply gave him a glance, a faint flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before turning away. "Alright," she said, her voice neutral, as she walked over to the bench. She picked up a bottle of water, uncapping it with a practiced twist, and tilted it to her lips.

His head turned, a slight shift of his neck as he looked at her back. She seemed unbothered, casual even, while he lay there, beaten and exhausted. Something about her calm demeanor made him feel even more worn down, the difference between them stark in that moment.

The silence hung heavy between them, broken only by the soft sound of Rose drinking, and Toshi's labored breathing.

 He hadn't really spoken to Rose beyond her constant corrections, her voice berating him each time he made a mistake, pointing out his poor form or the way his swing was clumsy...Or something on the lines of that BS.

At first, he found it frustrating, but he had learned to swallow his pride. It wasn't like he had the luxury of complaining, her criticism was the only way he was going to improve. Still, there was something about the way she never spared him any comfort that kept him on edge, like he was always just one step behind her.

Now, in the quiet of the moment, Toshi didn't know what to say. What could he say? The words felt stuck, lodged somewhere between his throat and his mind, and no matter how much he tried to form them, they never seemed to come out right.

Toshi shifted his gaze away from her, staring up at the ceiling, trying to find some focus outside of the frustration building inside him. 

Toshi let out a slow exhale, his eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling above him. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, wrapping around them both. The quiet seemed to make the weight of his own thoughts unbearable.

He shifted again, trying to find some comfort on the cold, unforgiving floor, but it didn't help. His body ached, and his mind was restless. Finally, he couldn't stand the silence any longer.

He glanced up at her, watching as she set the bottle back down on the bench. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and turned slightly, as if sensing his gaze on her.

"Why do you do it?" Toshi blurted out before he could stop himself. The question hung in the air, awkward and unplanned, but it was there now, and he couldn't take it back.

Rose raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and mild amusement. "Do what?"

"Why do you do this?" he asked, his voice hoarse from exertion. "Why do you train? Why swords?"

Rose froze for just a moment, her hand hovering near the bottle. Then she turned her head slightly, just enough to look at him over her shoulder. "Why does it matter?" she replied, her tone even, casual, as if his question were no more significant than idle small talk...well it was.

"It just does," Toshi said, pushing through the discomfort in his chest. "I mean... you're tough, but you don't talk about it. You're always pushing me, but I don't even know why you're here doing this in the first place."

Rose turned fully now, leaning against the bench with her arms crossed. She studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp and piercing. Toshi shifted under her scrutiny but didn't look away.

"Why swords?" she repeated softly, almost to herself. She let out a short breath, as if deciding how much to give him. "I guess because it suits me. A sword's simple, direct. It gets the job done without pretending to be anything else."

Toshi frowned, sensing something off. "That's not really an answer," 

Rose's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "It's the only answer you're getting," she said, straightening up. "Everyone's got their reasons, Toshi. Some of us don't feel the need to spill them all over the place."

"Fine," he muttered, shifting his gaze to the ceiling again. "I was just curious."

Toshi then shifted himself and got up off the floor. As he stood, his legs shook beneath him, but he stayed on his feet. The world around him tilted slightly, but he found his balance. He was still in pain, still frustrated, but he wasn't going to let it break him.

"You good?" Rose asked, her voice flat, as if she had expected nothing less.

Toshi nodded, breathing heavily. "Yeah..."

Toshi steadied himself, feeling the ache in his muscles but refusing to let it show. He glanced at Rose, half-expecting to see some sign of approval or maybe even a hint of satisfaction. But instead, her expression remained as unreadable as ever.

. . . . "I'm not doing this because I want to...I'm doing it because I'm going to get stronger, too." Rose said, without a trace of emotion. She met his gaze, her eyes staring directly into his soul. 

Toshi blinked, caught off guard by her words. "I know..."

"I don't think you know."She took a step closer. "I'm not training you for your sake. I'm doing it because I need to get better. I'm not some teacher. I'm just someone who happens to know more than you. And if I'm going to survive, if I'm going to be better than I was yesterday, I need to push you." Her eyes narrowed, the hint of something deeper beneath the surface. "And if you push back, I get stronger too."

It wasn't about him. It wasn't even about the progress he made. It was about her—her drive to be better, to push herself beyond the limits she set. And in some twisted way, that made him understand her better. She wasn't doing this out of kindness. She was doing it for her own survival, her own reasons, just like him.

He was starting to realize that most of what she said was what she'd been wanting to tell him all along. Toshi didn't mind—he preferred to keep things strictly business.

A new kind of understanding flickered in Toshi's chest, something that felt almost like respect. He wasn't just a tool for her training. She was using him to get stronger, too. And in that sense, they weren't all that different.

"Alright," Toshi said, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the pain. "Guess we're both in this together, then."

Rose didn't smile. Instead, she gave a single nod before sighing. "We'll see how long you can keep up." Rose gave him a brief glance before continuing. "Anyways, I've got things to do..." she said, her tone flat. "It's Sogeki's turn to train you now."

Toshi felt a wave of relief when he heard Sogeki's name. Training with the guy was easily the highlight of his day. It wasn't just that his training was less grueling compared to the drills the others made him go through...though that certainly helped.

No, it was the man himself. The man was a mess in all the best ways. Drunk ninety-nine percent of the time and somehow still sober enough to teach, Sogeki turned what should've been a slog into something he actually looked forward to.

Sure, Sogeki's technique wasn't exactly conventional. Sometimes Toshi wondered if the man even remembered half the things he said. But damn, when Sogeki got going, the guy had a knack for cracking jokes between instructions and exaggerated gestures that left Toshi choking on laughter when he should've been focusing.

'Training with him is almost too easy,' Toshi thought, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. 'But I'm not complaining.'

Rose squinted at him for a brief moment, almost sensing his happiness. But didn't wait for him to respond. She turned on her heel and walked away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the room as she left without a second glance. The door shut behind her, leaving Toshi standing there, the sting of the earlier fight still fresh on his skin.

Toshi exhaled as he walked over to the bench, his muscles aching from the morning's session. His throat burned, dry and scratchy, as he grabbed a bottle from the stack and twisted it open. Tilting it back, he drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing the fire in his throat.

When the bottle was empty, he let it drop to the floor with a dull thud, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ahh... That's better," he muttered, the words slipping out on an exhale. ( The janitor would clean it up later, DW. )

He turned his attention to the plain black shirt draped over the bench. It wasn't much, just a thin, worn piece of fabric, but it did its job. He slipped it over his head, the material clinging to his damp skin. The shirt hung loose, almost baggy, paired with his simple shorts that had seen better days.

His feet, however, were bare, as they often were during training. Shoes always felt like an unnecessary hindrance, something that slowed him down and dulled his connection to the ground. He preferred feeling the roughness of the floor beneath him, the way it forced him to adjust and improve his footwork.

And Rose even taught that to him, as it makes it easier to naturally know one's footwork.

Still, training was over for now. Toshi strapped the shirt tighter across his body and headed for the door. His boots sat waiting for him, scuffed and sturdy. He bent down, slipping them on one by one, the familiar weight settling on his feet.

Toshi straightened his back and pushed the door open. The training room fell silent behind him as he stepped into the hall.

There was still time before Toshi had to head out for training with Sogeki. No rush. Sogeki's idea of "training" was shooting at booze bottles lined up on the railing. The only challenge was trying to do it quicker each round without losing his patience. It was the same thing every time, but Toshi wasn't about to complain—at least it wasn't painful. Yet, surprisingly he found himself improving each time.

The rest of his evening was carved up between scarfing down dinner and prepping for the real nightmare... training with Troy.

Just thinking about Troy made Toshi's stomach twist. That guy was insane. All Troy ever wanted to do was spar. Spar, spar, and—guess what?—more sparring. For dessert? Even more sparring.

The guy was a beast in his own right.

" HA! "

"HA!"

"HA!"

The sound of loud, unified grunts echoed from somewhere down the hall, drawing Toshi's attention. His steps slowed as he walked towards the source. The muffled rhythm of voices came through the cracks of the door. Without thinking, Toshi reached for the handle and eased it open just enough to peek inside.

Through the narrow gap, Toshi caught sight of a group of trainees, their bodies drenched in sweat as they pushed themselves through a series of push-ups and sit-ups. It was like a furnace of pain and sweat, the air thick with the stench of pure hell. Toshi couldn't help but shake his head, a flicker of sympathy welling up inside him for their struggle.

Then at the front of the room, stood Ragnar. His arms were crossed, his eyes like steel as it swept over the trainees with an unsatisfied look.

And then Ragnar's gaze shifted.

Directly at him.

Toshi froze, heart leaping into his throat. The room seemed to fall silent, the intensity of Ragnar's stare pinning him like a trapped insect. Without a second thought, Toshi yanked the door shut, the sound of it slamming echoing down the hall.

"Shit."

He staggered back, goosebumps crawling down his spine. His hands trembled slightly, but he stuffed them into his pockets to hide it—even though no one was there to see.

"That guy scares me," Toshi mumbled under his breath. He turned on his heel and walked off, run walking in the opposite direction.

Ragnar was a 7-foot giant, his muscles bulging like tree trunks. The sight of him alone could make anyone feel small, but the thing that really got to Toshi was the way the man moved...unstoppable, like a force of nature. The kind of guy who could snap you in half without even breaking a sweat.

Toshi shuddered at the thought. "You gotta feel bad for anyone who's going up against him," he muttered under his breath. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like to take a punch from Ragnar. A single hit could probably send him flying across the room.

He wasn't sure what to do next with the free time he had. "I guess checking up on Finn isn't the worst way to kill time," Toshi thought, letting the idea settle into his mind.

TO BE CONTINUED.

_________________________________

________________________________________________________

Want to read ahead? Check out my P@TREON.

( Patre0n.com/FictionGoat )