Chapter 2:New Horizons and Training Days

Chapter 2: New Horizons and Training Days

The sun dangled low above Foosha Village, coating the sky with shades of gold and orange.

Long shadows spilled across the field of grass on which Monkey D. Tyson battled his older brother, Dragon. Sweat beaded on their brow, their heavy breathing puffing out in abrupt bursts after hours of intense training.

Looming above them was their father, Monkey D. Garp, his gigantic body casting a formidable shadow. For a change, his characteristic loud smile was missing, replaced by a very uncommon seriousness that sent Tyson's stomach somersaulting with interest.

"Listen up, you two,"

Garp explained, his deep rumble of a voice sounding like the growl of an approaching storm.

"I've received a directive from Marine Headquarters. Those accursed Rocks Pirates are causing trouble again—raiding Krisu Village in the North Blue for food provisions. The upper brass want me to go out there and put a stop to it."

Tyson's eyes went wide, a thrill of excitement running through him.

The Rocks Pirates! He remembered them from the One Piece manga he'd devoured in his previous life—a group of legends commanded by Rocks D. Xebec, a name that meant mayhem and ambition.

They were the kind who'd create the God Valley Incident in the future, but for now, they were real, breathing danger. And his father was going to challenge them.

Dragon moved beside him, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"How long will you be away, Dad?" he inquired, his voice steady but with a hint of anxiety.

Garp rubbed the back of his head, a self-conscious movement that was at odds with his serious expression.

"Difficult to predict, Dragon. It might be a few weeks, possibly a month or two.".

" Depends on how long it takes to knock some sense into those pirates."

He gave his sons a stern stare.

"When I'm gone, you two must watch each other's backs. Dragon, do you want me to remind you that you're the big brother—rise to the occasion. Tyson, don't play on your brother's patience, okay?"

Tyson grinned impishly, jolting Dragon with his elbow.

"No promises, Dad. You know I'm a handful."

A thunderous guffaw burst from Garp, ringing out across the field and sending a flock of birds flying from a nearby tree.

"That I do, you little gremlin! Just don't burn down the village while I'm away."

He leaned forward with a huge hand, mussing Tyson's hair so hard it almost knocked him over.

A loud, resonant horn blasted in the direction of the piers, shattering their guffaws. Tyson's head jerked toward the blast, his heart racing.

"That's the Navy vessel, isn't it?"

Tyson nodded, smoothing the sharp white Marine coat thrown across his shoulders.

"Aye, that's my ride. Come on, boys—see me off."

The three of them walked down the curving dirt road to the shore, sea salt filling their nostrils with every step. At the docks, Tyson's breath caught. A Navy ship bobbed in the waves, its white sails whipping in the wind, each bearing the Marine logo—a seagull proudly grasping a scale. On the deck was a great, imposing figure, his outline severe against the dying sun.

Tyson squinted, then let out a soft gasp.

"No way… is that Sengoku?"

Dragon shot him a curious glance, one eyebrow arched.

"You know him?"

"Not personally,"

Tyson said, quickly covering his slip-up. He couldn't exactly admit he knew Sengoku from a manga.

"I mean, I've heard of him. Dad's talked about him before, right? His buddy?"

Garp laughed, slapping Tyson on the back hard enough to make his knees wobble.

"Sharp as a tack, Tyson! That's Vice Admiral Sengoku—just promoted and already giving me grief. He's here to keep me in line, or so he believes."

Sengoku walked further toward the railing of the ship, his famous afro whipping about in the breeze. His resolute face broke into a small grin when he bellowed,

"Garp, you're behind schedule. The brass are riding me about those pirates, and I'm not the fall guy for your delay."

"Make 'em wait,"

Garp retorted, flinging a hand dismissively.

"I've gotta bid adieu to my boys first, you old goat."

Returning to Dragon and Tyson, Garp's face softened a brief, rare tenderness that made Tyson's chest feel tight.

"Okay, listen careful. I'll be home before you know it, but until I am, you're on your own. Train hard, be good, and take care of your mom. Got it?"

Dragon nodded seriously, his dark eyes meeting Garp's.

"We will, Dad."

Tyson couldn't help but smile.

"Kick some pirate butt for us, okay?"

Garp laughed again, loudly and ferociously.

"You bet I will, kid! And when I come back, you'd better expect to see some real progress on your part from both of you—no slackin'!

As he prepared to board, Garp hesitated, rummaging in his coat. He produced a heavy, leather-bound book and a disorganized heap of crumpled paper, shoving them into Dragon's hands.

"Here. This is the Navy Six Styles: A Comprehensive Guide. And these "

he rapped on the papers

"are my personal notes. Learn 'em well."

Dragon accepted the offerings with a nod, but Tyson's curiosity was triggered. He ducked in closer, looking over the notes while Garp boarded the ship at the gangway. The script was surprisingly even—too neat for Garp's typical sloppiness. His gaze skittered down to the signature on the last page, elegant script spelling out: Sengoku.

Tyson snorted, elbowing Dragon.

"Check this out these aren't Dad's notes. They're Sengoku's! That sneaky old man must've swiped them."

Dragon's lips curled into a smirk.

"Sounds like Dad. Probably didn't even ask permission."

"Guess we owe Sengoku one,"

Tyson said, shoving the notes into the book.

"But hey, more for us to work with."

As Garp climbed aboard the ship, Tyson couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort. He'd always perceived his father as invincible, but the Rocks Pirates were anything but small fish. Sengoku's being on deck only added to the stakes the soon-to-be Fleet Admiral's severe presence foretold the gravity of the mission.

"Garp, don't be an idiot,"

Sengoku bellowed, his voice thick with frustration. "We can't afford to have you get yourself killed."

Garp waved him off with a grin.

"Relax, Sengoku. I've got this. Just make sure the brass doesn't stick me behind a desk when I'm done."

Sengoku sighed, shaking his head.

"You're impossible."

Tyson watched the banter, a smile creeping onto his face. Garp's carefree vibe clashing with Sengoku's discipline was comedy gold, and it swelled his pride for his dad.

As the ship sailed away, Tyson asked Dragon,

"Do you think Dad'll bring back anything neat? Like a pirate flag?"

Dragon snorted.

"If he remembers. You know how he is."

"Right," Tyson said,

still smiling wider. "But that would be sweet, right? Our own share of the adventure.

Dragon looked softer. "Maybe. But for now we've got our own battles to fight.

[System Alert: Emotional Points Gained! +10 EP courtesy of Monkey D. Dragon. Emotion: Resolve.]

The horn sounded a second time, and Garp waved one last time from the deck. "Take care, boys!" he yelled as the ship was swept away, sails filling with the wind. Dragon and Tyson stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes following until the ship disappeared as a speck on the horizon.

A gentle chime chimed In Tyson's head, and a pale screen glowed into existence.

[System Notification: Emotional Points Gained! +50 EP from Monkey D. Garp. Emotion: Pride.]

Tyson grinned. Even as Garp set sail, his pride at his sons was powering Tyson's enigmatic system. Convenient.

At their small house in Foosha Village, the brothers did not lose any time experimenting with their newfound treasures. The Navy Six Styles manual was a treasure trove—pages filled with illustrations and meticulous step-by-step instructions for techniques such as Shave, Iron Body, and Finger Pistol. Sengoku's annotations enriched it, dividing tricky moves into actionable steps, although Tyson could not help but laugh at the occasional cranky notes, such as

"Garp, quit hogging my snacks while I am writing this."

With Garp away, the house was strangely quiet, his larger-than-life personality creating a vacant space. It also meant freedom—freedom to train, discover, and perhaps fit in a bit of mischief. Tyson looked over at Dragon, who was already immersed in the book, his brow creased in study.

"So,"

Tyson replied, reclining in his chair,

"Dad's away battling pirates, and we've got the palace to ourselves. Why don't we take a break and go fishing? The ocean's right outside, and I want to see if my Cooking Mastery can handle it."

Dragon considered the suggestion.

"Fishing, you say? Okay, but we're taking the book with us. We can practice by the beach.

"Deal!"

Tyson jumped up from his seat, grabbing a couple of rickety fish poles from the shed. The brothers walked to the beach down the road, the salt breeze whipping through their hair as they established along the rocky shoreline. Tyson pitched his line with a flourish, the hook catching a sparkle as it splashed into the waves.

While waiting for a bite, Tyson brought up his system panel to review his stats.

________________________

[System Panel]

Name: Monkey D. Tyson

Age: 9

Skill: Cooking Mastery (200 EP)

Talent: None

Haki: None

Physique: Enhanced (Iron Body – 1000 EP)

Weapon: None

Devil Fruit: None

Crew Member: None

Bounty: 0

Berry Amount: 0

Combat Strength: Above Normal Adult

Total EP: 80 (after spending money on Cooking Mastery)

______________________

He knit his brow. His Emotional Points were low since he had spent so much on Cooking Mastery, but Garp leaving had helped give them a bump. Fishing wouldn't give him more EP, but it'd put food on the table—and perhaps impress Dragon enough to wring out a few extra points.

The sea stretched out calm and endless, the gentle slap of waves against the rocks a soothing rhythm. After a while, Dragon's line jerked, and he reeled in a plump, silvery fish with smooth precision. Tyson whooped, clapping him on the back.

"Nice one, nii-san! Guess I've got to step up my game."

Waiting for a bite, Tyson questioned Dragon's mind.

"Hey, Dragon, what do you want to do when you grow up? Join the Marines like Dad?"

Dragon's line bobbed as he considered it.

"I don't know. Dad's way is. full-on. I respect it, but I think there's more in life than simply killing pirates."

"Like what?"

Tyson asked, curious.

"Like figuring out why people go for piracy," Dragon said, his eyes glazing off into the distance.

"Why they choose freedom over rules. There's a larger picture, I think."

Tyson nodded, feeling the beginnings of Dragon's revolutionary destiny.

"Heavy stuff. Me, I just want to be free, make a name, and have good food."

Dragon smiled. "Straightforward ambitions. I can stand for that."

[System Notification: Emotional Points Won! +5 EP from Monkey D. Dragon. Emotion: Amusement.]

Dragon smiled, putting the fish down. "You'd better. I'm not eating raw fish because you can't keep up."

Tyson grinned, concentrating on his own line. A few minutes later, he felt the tug and pulled hard, landing a squirming mackerel. "Ha! Take that!"

They fished for an hour more, accumulating a small pile of catches as the sun edged lower. Tyson constructed a fire on the beach, his Cooking Mastery dictating the movements of his hands as he gutted, seasoned, and cooked the fish over the spitting flames. The smell drifted through the air, rich and meaty, and Dragon's nod of approval as he bit into the fish sent a little shiver through Tyson.

[System Notification: Emotional Points Gained! +10 EP from Monkey D. Dragon. Emotion: Satisfaction.]

"Alright," Dragon said, wiping his hands on his shorts. "Break's over. Let's head to the forest tomorrow and start training for real. We've got the Six Styles to master."

Tyson grinned, licking fish grease from his fingers. "You're on."

The following morning, the brothers walked into the dense woods surrounding Foosha Village, Navy Six Styles book and Sengoku's notes safely stashed beneath Dragon's arm. The atmosphere vibrated with life—pine and earth mingling with bird songs above them. They spotted a secluded glade, its moss-covered floor and solid trees providing a natural training ground.

Dragon placed the book on a flat stone, opening to the first chapter. "The Six Styles are all about body control," he told him, his voice gaining a serious tone. "Sengoku's notes indicate that it begins with muscle strength and control. Without fundamentals, we'll never get away with moves like Shave or Moonwalk."

Tyson nodded, cracking his knuckles. "So, where do we begin?"

Dragon pointed to a diagram of bodyweight exercises—push-ups, squats, planks—designed to build raw power. "These. Then we'll work on muscle isolation. Dad always said strength without precision is just noise."

During muscle control drills, Tyson fumbled with his bicep. "This is tricky," he muttered, his arm jerking awkwardly.

Dragon placed a hand on his shoulder. "Think of your muscle like a guitar string. Pluck one, not the whole chord."

Tyson closed his eyes, imagining it. Gradually, his bicep flexed by itself—a small success that made him whoop. "I did it!"

Dragon grinned. "Good. Now quicker."

They practiced for hours, Dragon forcing Tyson to hone his control. By lunchtime, Tyson could select muscle groups with reasonable accuracy, although his calves remained problematic.

"You're getting it," Dragon said, wiping away sweat. "Let's do something else. Sengoku's notes say 'Shave'—explosive speed. But we have to have stronger legs first."

Tyson groaned. "More squats?"

"More squats," Dragon agreed, smiling.

They dropped into position, thighs searing through set after set. Tyson's Iron Body kept him going, but the effort was real. Still, he matched Dragon rep for rep, collapsing onto the moss in a heap when they were done.

"Think… we're ready… for Shave?" Tyson panted.

Dragon laughed, winded. "Not yet. But we're getting there."

[System Notification: Emotional Points Gained! +15 EP from Monkey D. Dragon. Emotion: Respect.]

They plunged in, the ground of the forest their gym. Tyson's improved body, thanks to Iron Body, made him a competitor, but Dragon's innate ability kept him one step ahead. Push-ups turned into a quiet competition, their breathing in tandem as they fought beyond exhaustion. Tyson's arms shook at the fiftieth rep, but he clamped his teeth, not willing to let Dragon have the upper hand.

"Show-off," Tyson growled as Dragon reached sixty without skipping a beat.

Dragon smirked, still going. "Keep up. You've got Iron Body—use it."

Tyson growled playfully, digging deeper. His muscles screamed, but he felt them adapting, the system's enhancements meshing with his effort. After push-ups, they tackled squats, then planks, Dragon occasionally checking the notes to tweak their form.

Hours ticked by, the sun rising high. At one point, Dragon had Tyson sit beside the stream running through the clearing. "Now for the meat," he said, pulling out Sengoku's notes. "Muscle control. It's a matter of isolating groups—such as your biceps or quads—and being able to move them at will. Watch."

Dragon flexed his arm, and Tyson gasped as individual muscles quivered in order, a wave of control that seemed almost supernatural.

"Whoa," he whispered. "How do you do that?"

"Focus," Dragon replied.

"Feel the muscle, then move it. Try your forearm."

Tyson looked at his arm, willing it to comply. After a few awkward twitches, his forearm flexed—a small, jerky movement, but a triumph. "Ha! I did it!"

Dragon nodded, a slight smile pulling on his lips. "Good. Keep going. It's the key to things like Finger Pistol."

[System Notification: Emotional Points Earned! +10 EP from Monkey D. Dragon. Emotion: Encouragement.]

The day dragged on, with practice and fine-tuning. Tyson's control tightened step by step, his body moving more easily. As twilight approached, his belly growled, so loudly it chased a passing squirrel.

Dragon chuckled, an unusual sound. "Already hungry? Let's go find something to hunt for dinner. A pig sounds good. Mom would love some pork stew."

Tyson's face lit up. "Oh, hell yes. Let's put our skills to the test."

They crept further into the woods, senses heightened. Tyson led the way, his augmented body allowing him to move silently even though he was raring to go. Before long, he caught sight of a large wild boar digging in the undergrowth, its bristly coat reflecting the dying light.

"There," he breathed, dropping low. "Think we can take it?"

Dragon sized up the creature, then gave a nod. "Yeah, but it's hard. We'll apply what we've learned. You divert its attention—I'll strike the legs."

"Got it." Tyson moved into the open, clapping his hands. "Hey, pork chop! Over here!

The boar's head jerked up, beady eyes fastening on him. With a snarl, it lunged, tusks shining as they plunged toward Tyson's abdomen. He hesitated, waiting for the perfect moment, then stepped aside with a split second to spare, his Iron Body taking the glancing impact as the boar's shoulder scraped across him. "now, Dragon!"

Dragon darted in, kicking hard at the boar's hind leg. But the creature twisted, quicker than he'd anticipated, swinging its tusks. Dragon rolled out of the way, just avoiding them. Tyson took advantage, focusing his energy into his hand. He hadn't perfected Finger Pistol, but he'd make do. Charging, he poked his fingertips into the boar's neck, thrusting through the hide with a wet squelch.

The boar squealed, thrashing wildly. Dragon sprang up, landing a flurry of kicks to its legs, hobbling it. Together, they wore it down—strike by strike—until it crumpled, heaving its final breath.

Tyson wiped sweat from his brow, grinning. "We're badass."

Dragon clapped him on the back, panting. "That finger jab was slick. From the manual?"

"Sort of," Tyson said, flexing his hand.

"Made it up on the fly."

[System Notification: Emotional Points Gained! +20 EP from Monkey D. Dragon. Emotion: Admiration.]

They hauled the boar back to the clearing, where Tyson's Cooking Mastery came into play. He cut the meat with skill, roasting it over an open flame until the air grew thick with mouthwatering scents. They sat under the starry sky, the crackling fire casting a warm glow upon their faces.

"You know,"

Dragon said, chewing thoughtfully,

"we're a good team."

Tyson nodded, savoring the tender pork.

"Yeah. With Dad gone, we've got to stick together. Who knows what's next?"

Dragon's gaze lifted to the sky, stars glinting in his eyes.

"Whatever it is, we'll face it. Like Dad taught us."

[System Notification: Emotional Points Gained! +15 EP from Monkey D. Dragon. Emotion: Camaraderie.]

It's that I have realized that I not alone in this world, now I have family as well.