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One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #5
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 03:39:32 +0000 UTCThe sea churned violently as the massive beast lunged, rows of jagged teeth snapping shut just inches from Gale’s face. He twisted his body, narrowly avoiding becoming seafood, and countered with a precise thrust of his rapier.
The blade cut through the water with ease, piercing just beneath the creature’s eye before he kicked off its scaly hide and darted back.
'Okay, maybe agreeing to fight a sea beast in its home turf wasn’t my smartest move.'
Bubbles escaped his lips as he let out a frustrated sigh. It had been over a year since he first woke up on the shores of Torino Island, and somehow, somehow, every day since had managed to be more grueling than the last. His initial training had been simple—just some stamina and strength exercises to get him into fighting shape.
Then, after choosing the rapier, weapon training was thrown into the mix.
Did that mean his physical conditioning was reduced to compensate? Hah! As if. No, Kiwanu just stacked more on top. Every night, Gale would stumble into bed, barely able to crawl under the covers, and yet… somehow, after just one night's sleep, he’d wake up feeling completely refreshed. It was unnatural. Frankly, it was kind of terrifying.
Gale had considered throwing in the towel more than once, but the results spoke for themselves. His body grew stronger by the day, and Kiwanu’s bizarre, borderline sadistic training methods meshed almost too well with his weapon practice.
Sometimes, wielding his rapier felt as natural as using his own hands. It was infuriating to admit, but the old man really was a genius. Not that Gale would ever say that out loud. The scientist was already insufferable enough as it was.
Just as he was about to dwell on how much of a pain Kiwanu was, the sea beast let out a deep, guttural roar and surged forward again, its long serpentine body twisting through the water.
Gale’s glowing blue tattoos pulsed as he instinctively moved to dodge, weaving around the beast’s powerful swipes. 'Alright, focus, Gale. Sea beast first, petty grudges later.'
The past few months had been the most intense yet. Kiwanu had finally deemed his rapier skills passable, and with that came a new form of training—combat theory. For two hours every day, Gale was forced to sit through Kiwanu’s endless hypothetical scenarios.
At first, he thought it was a waste of time, but to his horror, he soon realized that these lessons translated seamlessly into real fights. When Kiwanu started making him spar against Torino warriors, Gale had struggled.
Now? He could take on ten of them without breaking a sweat.
And yet, despite all that progress, this was his final test before the scientist would allow him to train with his Devil Fruit ability: a battle against a full-grown sea beast.
'Because sure, why not? It’s not like I’d rather be doing literally anything else.'
The beast lunged again, this time swiping with a massive clawed fin. Gale flipped his rapier in his hand and slashed, his blade slicing cleanly through the water and carving a deep gash along the creature’s limb. The beast recoiled, blood clouding the ocean around them.
That’s right, ugly. You’re not the only one who can fight down here.
Gale had to admit—he was stronger now than he had ever been, and he had Kiwanu’s relentless training to thank for it. Every second of grueling exhaustion, every ridiculous, over-the-top exercise, every condescending remark from that old bastard—it had all led to this moment.
And he’d be damned if he failed now.
He gripped his rapier tighter, his glowing tattoos pulsing like waves beneath his skin. The sea beast roared, thrashing in the water as it prepared to charge again. Gale smirked, leveling his weapon.
'Alright, big guy… round two.'
...
The waves lapped gently against the shore, a stark contrast to the tension hanging over the gathered crowd. A large group of Torino villagers stood in anxious silence, eyes fixed on the churning ocean. At the forefront were Kiwanu, Bartigo, and Shanba, all watching the water with varying degrees of concern.
“Well,” Shanba muttered, arms crossed over his barrel-like chest. “He’s dead.”
Bartigo let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Could you at least pretend to have faith in the kid?”
Shanba shrugged. “Not my fault. You saw the beast he went up against—it’s been haunting our shores for years. If it was something to be easily taken down, then we would have taken it down already...”
A beat of silence passed. Then, Shanba turned to glare at Kiwanu, who was… absentmindedly poking at something in the sand. “And you,” he grumbled, “you just sent him in there like it was nothing! What were you thinking?”
Kiwanu didn’t even look up. “I was thinking that he’d kill it.”
Shanba blinked. “That’s it?”
“Pretty much,” Kiwanu said, still prodding at whatever had captured his interest in the sand.
Shanba threw his arms up. “So that’s it? You sent the poor kid off to be eaten alive by a monster just because you thought he could kill it?!”
“You make it sound like I knew he’d lose.” Kiwanu scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Please, I’m a genius. I calculated the risks.”
Bartigo raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly did you do that?”
“I didn’t.”
Shanba’s eye twitched.
At that exact moment, a massive gush of blood surged to the surface of the water, dark crimson spreading like ink in every direction.
Shanba pointed wildly. “You see that?! That’s him getting eaten! I told you this would happen! We’re standing here watching a murder in real time, and—”
Another burst of blood shot up from below.
Shanba paled. “Oh, no. He’s getting shredded, the poor boy....”
Bartigo, who had been calmly watching, simply hummed in thought. “Well… he is putting up more of a fight than I expected.”
Kiwanu finally tore his attention away from the sand, glancing up just as another patch of dark red rose to the surface. “Huh,” he said. “That’s more blood than I expected.”
Shanba nearly lost his mind.
Just as he opened his mouth to demand that somebody do something, the water erupted.
The waves churned violently as something massive began to rise from the depths. A shadow loomed beneath the surface, and then, with a sudden swell, the upper portion of the sea beast burst out of the water.
Its monstrous head, gaping maw frozen in an eerie snarl, loomed over the villagers, water cascading off its scaly hide.
Shanba’s face drained of all color. He staggered back, jabbing a trembling finger at the creature. “It ate the boy!” he cried. “And now it’s pissed off so it’s gonna eat us too!”
A ripple of panic shot through the crowd. Villagers screamed, warriors grabbed whatever weapons they had on hand, and Kiwanu… just sighed, rubbing his temples.
Then, from ahead of the beast, another figure emerged.
Gale’s soaked form cut through the water, his grip firm around the sea beast’s corpse as he dragged it behind him. As he waded toward shore, the villagers’ fear turned to stunned silence, realization dawning like a slow-moving storm.
With one final heave, Gale pulled the massive creature onto the sand with a thud, its lifeless body sprawling before the gathered islanders. Water streamed down his face, his black hair slicked back, his glowing blue tattoos pulsing faintly beneath his soaked clothes.
He stood there, rapier still in hand, shoulders rising and falling with deep breaths.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then, without missing a beat, Gale flicked his rapier to the side, shaking off a few lingering droplets of blood. His voice was flat, utterly unimpressed with his own feat.
“That,” he panted, “was a pain in the ass.”
...
The village was alive with celebration.
Lanterns hung from wooden beams, casting a warm glow over the gathered islanders as music, laughter, and the scent of grilled meat filled the air. The remains of the sea beast had already been stripped down to its bones—its skeleton now stood near the village square as a monument to Gale’s victory, while its meat had been devoured in a feast that left no belly empty.
At the heart of the festivities, Gale found himself caught in the whirlwind of song and dance, arms linked with the villagers as they stomped and twirled in rhythm to the beat of drums and clapping hands. Voices rose in unison, carrying the tune of an old sea shanty through the night:
"I've been roaming all my life, and now I found a lady wife. I'm staying right here—"
"Oh, I won't be sailing anymore, I won't obey the ocean's call. I'm staying right here—"
Gale grinned as he sang along, his voice blending with the chorus of cheerful drunken voices. The rhythm surged like rolling waves, pulling him along with its infectious energy. Even Bartigo, the normally composed swordsman, was swaying back and forth, an arm slung around a fellow villager as he bellowed the lyrics with no regard for tune.
Eventually, Gale broke away from the dance, his chest heaving as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Snatching a drink from a passing tray, he made his way to an empty log near the edge of the celebration, plopping down with a satisfied sigh.
He took a long swig, savoring the burn of whatever homebrewed alcohol the villagers had concocted.
The festivities carried on without him, the villagers singing and dancing with undying enthusiasm. He watched them with a lazy smile, reveling in the warmth of the moment.
“Quite the feat you pulled off today,” a familiar voice spoke beside him.
Gale turned his head to find Kiwanu standing there, arms crossed, watching the celebration with an unreadable expression.
The old man’s ever-present smirk was in place, but there was something behind his eyes—perhaps approval, though Gale wouldn’t bet his life on it.
“How do you feel?” Kiwanu asked.
Gale exhaled, tilting his head back to gaze at the starlit sky. “Honestly?” He glanced at Kiwanu with a grin. “I feel great… all that soul-sucking training was actually worth it.”
Kiwanu let out a hum, nodding. “Good, good…” He took a pause, then added, “Because the fun part of the training is officially over. What comes next is hell...”
Gale frowned. “Oh, come off it. What could possibly be worse than what I’ve already been doing?”
Kiwanu’s grin widened—sharp, knowing, and just a little sadistic. “You’ll see.”
With that, he patted Gale on the shoulder, then rose to his feet. “Enjoy yourself while you still can,” he said, before walking off, whistling a jaunty tune as he disappeared into the crowd.
Gale watched him go, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. He took another sip of his drink.
Somehow, he had a bad feeling about this.
...
The next morning, Gale found himself back at the training grounds, standing barefoot in the sand with the sun beating down on him. Despite the feast and celebration from the night before, Kiwanu had dragged him out at dawn, shoving a cup of something foul-tasting into his hands and declaring, "Drink up, boy. You’ll need it."
Now, with his stomach full of regret (and possibly whatever that drink was), he stood facing the elderly scientist, hands on his hips.
“So,” Gale said, stretching his arms, “what kind of fresh hell are we doing today?”
Kiwanu grinned. “We’re refining your control over your Devil Fruit ability.”
Gale’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh? I didn't think we'd go at it immediately...”
“Who do you think I am, boy? I've been preparing for this moment months ago...” Kiwanu continued, “You’re going to increase the density of your muscles alone. Not your bones, not your skin—just the muscle fibers.”
Gale blinked. “...That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Kiwanu confirmed.
Gale snorted. “Hah. Easy.”
It was not easy.
For the past year, he had trained his body relentlessly, pushing it beyond limits he never thought possible. That same training had given him an absurd level of body awareness—he could feel the shift in his muscles when he moved, knew exactly how each part of him worked together.
It was something he had never thought about before, but thanks to Kiwanu’s insane methods, he had developed an almost instinctive familiarity with his body’s structure.
So, in theory, isolating his Devil Fruit’s effect to only his muscles should have been simple. In theory.
Gale took a deep breath, focusing. He activated his ability, willing his muscles to become denser while keeping everything else untouched. His tattoos pulsed faintly as he directed his power inward.
And it worked... after an hour of trying and failing.
For a glorious moment, he could feel it—his muscles tightening, his strength increasing without his body gaining any unnecessary weight. It was a rush, like flipping a switch and unlocking an entirely new level of power.
Then pain exploded through his right arm.
With a sharp POP, his shoulder gave out, and Gale collapsed onto the ground like a sack of bricks.
"AAAAAAGH!" he yelled, clutching his arm. “WHAT THE HELL?!”
Kiwanu strolled over, completely unfazed by Gale writhing in agony. “Ah. As expected.”
"As expected?!" Gale gaped at him. "You knew this was going to happen?!"
“Of course,” Kiwanu said matter-of-factly. He crouched beside Gale, inspecting the limp arm. “You see, all that training of yours has strengthened your muscles significantly. Constant sparring and fighting? That also reinforced your bones.”
Gale grit his teeth. “Okay… and?”
Kiwanu poked at Gale’s shoulder. “The problem is that your connective tissues remained the same.”
Gale blinked. “...Come again?”
“While your bones can handle the increased strength of your muscles, your tendons and joints can’t,” Kiwanu explained cheerfully. “So what happens when your muscles get significantly stronger but the connective tissues holding everything together don’t?”
Gale groaned, realization dawning. “They get ripped apart?”
Kiwanu gave him a thumbs-up. “Dislocated, to be exact! But there's no need to worry... the medicine I gave you will ensure you suffer no permanent damage...”
“Fantastic,” Gale deadpanned. “This is exactly what I wanted.”
“Good,” Kiwanu said. Then, without warning, he grabbed Gale’s arm and snapped the shoulder back into place.
A sharp jolt shot through Gale’s body as his vision briefly whited out. “AAAAAAAAAARRRRGH! YOU COULD HAVE WARNED ME...! Son of a bitch...”
Kiwanu patted his arm as if he hadn’t just brutally realigned it. “Come, let’s try again.”
Gale panted, his forehead against the sand. “You are actually trying to kill me.”
“Nonsense,” Kiwanu replied, standing up. “I need you alive long enough to see the extent of your devil fruit ability.”
Gale groaned. “I should’ve let that sea beast eat me.”
With a wicked grin, Kiwanu extended a hand. “Now, get up. We’ll keep at this until the rest of your body learns to keep up.”
Gale stared at the offered hand, then let his head drop back against the sand with a defeated sigh.
This was going to suck.
