The wind passed through the clearing like a whisper that had forgotten its words.
The trees watched.
They didn't speak. They didn't lean. But if one were to listen closely, they might hear the sound of leaves holding their breath.
Krishna stood motionless at the center, bare feet anchored in the dirt, arms folded behind his back. His breathing was so still it didn't ripple his chest.
Then—without signal, tension, or warning—he moved.
It wasn't speed. It wasn't flash.
It was absence.
In one moment he was there. In the next, a breeze fluttered where his body had been—and twenty meters away, he stood again, back turned, arms unchanged, as if he had never left.
Soru. Not as a technique. As a state. He had disappeared into rhythm.
When he reappeared twenty meters away, arms folded behind his back, the only sound was Luffy crashing into a tree.
"OW! That was cool—do it again!"
Ace grunted, rubbing his wrist. "That wasn't movement. That was teleportation."
Krishna tilted his head slightly. "That was the breath between footsteps. Learn it, and you'll never fall behind."
Luffy was already running in circles, screaming. "I wanna vanish too! I WANNA VANISH NOW!"
Sabo crouched nearby, silent and watching, lips twitching with thought.
Krishna returned to the center.
"Today, two techniques," he said. "Soru—Vanishing Step. Kami-e—Paper Body."
Sabo's eyes sharpened. Luffy sat cross-legged, pretending to meditate but clearly chewing on something he'd stolen. Ace was already cracking his knuckles.
Krishna drew in a slow breath, raised his arm, and let the breeze hit him.
But instead of bracing, he moved with it. His spine tilted, his ribs shifted just enough. His whole frame bent like a willow—soft, fluid, reactive.
"Kami-e is not dodging," Krishna said. "It is yielding without fear. You let yourself be carried."
Ace scoffed. "So it's flopping?"
"No," Krishna said. "It's understanding motion so fully that you don't resist it. You ride it."
Ace frowned. "That sounds stupid."
He turned. "Ace. Try to hit me."
Ace cracked his knuckles. "With pleasure."
He launched forward. His punch was clean—sharp, tight. He wasn't aiming to kill, but he wanted Krishna to move.
Krishna didn't move.
He wasn't there anymore.
His body flowed just an inch off-line, letting Ace's fist slide through empty space. Not a block. Not a parry. Just absence.
Ace stumbled forward.
"What the hell—?!"
"Again."
The second strike missed wider.
Third one missed entirely.
Another punch. Krishna flowed around it.
"No tension," he said. "No friction. Just listen to the motion, then follow it."
Sabo chuckled from the side. "Looks like you're punching paper."
Ace muttered something that probably shouldn't be printed.
Krishna pointed at Sabo. "You. Your turn."
Sabo stepped forward and began a light volley of strikes—not full force, but curious. Testing.
Krishna adjusted smoothly with each motion. Tilt. Curve. Lean. Flow.
Then Sabo stopped and backed up, blinking slowly.
"I see it," he said. "It's like… reading breath."
Krishna smiled faintly, and nodded. "Exactly. You're not fighting the strike. You're following its shape."
Then came Luffy.
He launched into a flying kick with no warning.
"RAAAGGHHH!"
Krishna stepped sideways.
Luffy missed. Flew past him. Hit a tree, and flopped down like melted candle. Again.
"Ow. I need more practice."
After that Luffy lunged in with a wild yell and tried to suplex a tree. No one stopped him.
The morning passed in waves.
Krishna demonstrated Kami-e without strikes—just breathing with the wind, weaving through falling leaves, swaying with branches.
Sabo picked up Kami-e fast. His movements were natural, flowing, aware.
He watched and mirrored. His learning style was fluid: not from copying, but from sensing. He absorbed rhythm, not instruction.
He moved like he belonged in the wind.
Ace… not so much.
He hated Kami-e.
"Why would I not punch the attack back?! That's just asking to get hit!"
"Because paper doesn't get torn if it moves with the blade," Krishna replied.
"I'm not paper."
"Exactly."
Ace grumbled. Tried again. And again.
And again.
His steps were tight, but his shoulders kept tensing. His reactions were sharp, but reactive. Not responsive.
He grew increasingly agitated.
His attempts were almost right—sharp turns, lean-back dodges—but his tension betrayed him. His frame resisted too much. His reactions flared rather than flowed.
"You're still trying to overpower the motion," Krishna said. "Let it carry you."
"I don't let things carry me," Ace snapped. "I carry myself."
Krishna said nothing.
Luffy, meanwhile, was developing a dangerous hybrid style of flailing so wildly that sometimes he accidentally performed perfect Kami-e through sheer chaos.
"I'M A GHOST!" he screamed as he flopped under a swinging branch.
Sabo paused beside Krishna, watching him dodge a flying squirrel.
"…Does that count?"
Krishna didn't answer.
Luffy was lying on the ground at that point, swaying back and forth, whispering, "I am the paper… I am the paper…"
By midday, Krishna shifted focus.
Next came Soru.
"Soru," he announced.
Eight steps. Compressed. Fired in rapid sequence. The key wasn't raw speed—it was directionless momentum.
Krishna demonstrated again. Not a blur. A blink.
"Mark your anchor point," he instructed, drawing lines in the dirt. "Then vanish between them."
Ace picked it up first. His footwork was surprisingly tight—refined from brawling, from desperation. Almost too tight. He burst forward in sharp eight-step compressions, but lacked grace. It was impact, not fluidity. His problem wasn't technique. It was trying to explode instead of vanish.
Sabo took longer to build speed, but his path was smoother—he flowed between markers, not stomped. He moved well. His body understood weight transfer.
Luffy was, like always, chaos incarnate. He kept appearing in trees, bushes, water buckets.
"Why do I keep ending up in the sky?!"
"You're skipping the second and fifth steps," Krishna muttered, helping him down from a tree branch.
"I'M FREE!!!"
The sun climbed. Shadows stretched long.
Krishna called a break.
Sweat gleamed on backs and arms. The dirt was littered with failed skid marks and collapsed leaves. Even Sabo was breathing hard.
They collapsed on the grass, panting, bruised, limbs twitching from overfiring nerves.
Krishna stood still, eyes half-lidded. He hadn't moved much. He hadn't needed to.
Sheshika sat nearby, watching from atop a tree branch. Her tongue flicked silently. Judging. Observing.
Medha's voice whispered into Krishna's mind.
"Ace's knee joints are overcompensating. Muscle strain at 36%. He has microtears. Sabo's breathing sync is stabilizing. His balance nodes are improving. Luffy… somehow inverted his ankle without damaging it and may have accidentally opened a chakra gate."
Krishna ignored that last part.
He said nothing.
But inside, he was thinking.
They weren't struggling because they were weak.
They were struggling because these were his techniques.
They weren't theirs yet.
He opened his eyes and turned to the others.
"Stop."
They looked up.
"You're doing it wrong."
Ace groaned. "We're following your steps exactly."
"That's the problem," Krishna said. "You're copying me. Not learning yourselves."
He walked to Ace.
"You're fire. You burn too hot to float like paper. But you're trying to flow like water. Instead, you can redirect like wind when you're grounded. Kami-e will never feel right until you sway like heat—rising and snapping."
He turned to Sabo.
"You're water already. You're in rhythm. Kami-e is in your bones. Flexible, balanced. You just need to trust your motion. Soru will come slower, but it will be clean."
Then Luffy.
"You're a mess."
Luffy grinned.
Krishna smiled back.
"You're… chaos. Pure, blessed chaos. You can't count steps. But instinctively, you're almost always where you need to be. You just don't know why yet. But if you trust your feet, you'll land exactly where you need to be. "
Luffy blinked. "So I'm doing it right?"
"You're doing it weird," Krishna said. "Which is… your right."
Ace squinted. "So we're not supposed to get it like you?"
"No," Krishna said. "You're supposed to get it like you."
"Kami-e and Soru are languages. I've been handing you a script. But what you need is a voice."
A pause.
Sabo breathed out. "I like that."
Luffy was already halfway to a tree. Again.
They began.
But this time, Krishna didn't lead.
He watched.
And slowly, something shifted.
Ace's dodges started to resemble fire flickering—not vanishing, but pulling away just in time. Sabo's Soru strikes hit smoother arcs. Luffy ran directly into a tree, bounced off, and somehow landed in the correct stance.
Krishna didn't smile.
He just breathed.
And within his breath, something clicked.
"Teaching isn't duplication," he thought. "It's rhythm. It's unlocking."
And Krishna… watched.
Not their speed.
Not their technique.
But their rhythm.
Something unspoken aligned.
And for once, it wasn't him teaching.
It was them revealing.
The session ended as the sun dipped west.
They sat on the grass, panting, sore.
And Krishna stood under a tree, eyes closed, the weight of the moment soft in his chest.
The god in him pulsed. But today… it had listened.
Afternoon settled like breath held in the forest's chest. The light shifted through the clearing like breath—scattered, golden, and alive.
The air was warm, but not heavy. It moved between the trees with a kind of softness that felt earned—like the forest itself was listening.
Krishna stood at the heart of the clearing. Barefoot. Eyes closed. Spine straight. The collar of his tunic shifted gently with the wind, like the cloth itself had learned to breathe.
No stance.
No threat.
Just stillness—perfect and unreadable.
His muscles were loose. Feet flat on the earth. Not bracing for attack. Simply waiting.
Today, no drills. No step markers. No explanations.
Just feeling.
The brothers circled.
Not as enemies.
As questions.
"Now," he said softly, "come at me."
They hesitated.
He didn't raise his guard. Didn't flare Haki. Just stood there, a flicker of wind dancing across his shoulder.
Sabo stepped forward first.
No tension in his shoulders. No charge. He moved with breath—not speed. His strike came low, then curved upward in a loose arc. Not designed to land. Designed to read.
Krishna tilted slightly.
Not a dodge. Not even a reaction.
A listening.
Just enough shift that the strike passed without touching.
Sabo tried again.
A jab. A sweep. A short kick meant to draw weight.
His palm missed him by a finger's width. Then again. And again.
Krishna flowed with each—never fully retreating, but never caught. He never stepped back. He shifted like silk—Kami-e in its purest form. Not as technique, but as intuition.
After a few more exchanges, Sabo stepped back, breath calm.
"You're reading more than motion," he said.
"I'm reading intention," Krishna replied.
"And letting it move you."
Krishna nodded.
"You're not supposed to resist what you feel. You're supposed to follow it until it breaks."
Next came Ace.
No calm.
Just heat.
He didn't hesitate. His fists were already glowing faintly—his Armament Haki had begun surfacing at the wrists, a subtle flex he barely noticed.
He closed the distance in a blink and threw a heavy hook at Krishna's ribs.
Krishna didn't block.
He bent with it. Stepped into the path. The punch missed, just barely—whiffing across a silhouette that had already moved.
Ace snarled. Spun, elbowed, jabbed.
Again.
And again.
Krishna ducked. Shifted. Flowed.
But Krishna never countered.
Not once.
"You're not fighting," Ace snapped.
"I'm not resisting," Krishna corrected.
Ace clenched his teeth. "You're just dancing."
"No," Krishna said. "I'm not trying to win."
The words landed harder than any punch.
Ace swung again, faster this time. Krishna stepped off-angle, arms loose at his sides.
It was elegant.
Too elegant.
Ace stopped. Breathing hard.
"What's the point of this?" he growled. "Is this supposed to teach us how to run away?"
"No," Krishna replied, eyes calm. "It's teaching you how not to get in your own way."
Ace turned and walked back without another word.
Luffy didn't walk in.
He didn't announce himself. He didn't circle.
He launched.
Krishna blinked.
"GUM-GUM—! Uh… I forgot the name for this! Surprise punch!"
He spun in mid-air, feet flailing, fists stretching.
Krishna didn't move. Then, precisely, he did.
He dipped. Swayed. Bent. Shifted.
Every one of Luffy's limbs missed by instinct—not calculation.
Luffy ricocheted off a branch, crashed to the ground, rolled, popped back up, and gave a thumbs-up.
"Almost gotcha!"
"No," Krishna said, "but you almost felt it."
They gathered afterward.
Sabo sat cross-legged on a tree root, wiping sweat from his brow.
Luffy climbed into a tree and immediately fell asleep in the wrong direction.
Ace sat apart, back turned.
Krishna remained in the center.
Still not tired.
Still not bruised.
Still silent.
Sheshika slithered into view, curling up on a nearby log.
"You didn't strike once," she said.
"I didn't need to."
"Not even to test them?"
"They weren't ready for force," Krishna murmured. "But they're beginning to feel."
"Even Ace?"
Krishna hesitated.
Then, "He burns too hot to listen yet. But he'll simmer. He always does."
Sheshika flicked her tongue. "Sabo's moving closer."
"Yes," Krishna said. "He touched something today."
"A heartbeat?"
Krishna's eyes shifted skyward.
"A thread."
Inside, Medha pulsed into his thoughts, her voice low and observant.
"Sabo's perception lattice is stabilizing. Prediction markers rising. He's not guessing anymore—he's anticipating. His motion harmonization is progressing. Ace is accelerating faster physically, but his intent signature is volatile. His aggression rhythm is unstable. Luffy… has entered some kind of chaotic flow-state I can't quantify."
Krishna smirked faintly.
"What's Luffy doing?"
"I believe he's asleep. Upside-down. Midair."
"Of course."
Later, when the light turned amber and long shadows returned to the clearing, Krishna sat alone near the stream.
Krishna didn't smile.
But he felt something.
"Softness," he said aloud.
"It isn't weakness," Sheshika murmured.
"No," Krishna said. "It's refinement. Not reaction. Anticipation through surrender."
He closed his eyes.
He let his Observation Haki stretch—not outward, but inward.
Not to scan.
But to listen.
A squirrel preparing to leap from a branch. A beetle changing course beneath the grass. Ace shifting his weight before frustration surged again.
He felt not movement, but intention.
Ace—simmering and still. Sabo—quiet and grounding. Luffy—wild and flickering like a dream that refused structure.
He could feel their emotions—not with precision. But with harmony.
His own heartbeat matched the wind.
Sabo.
Still.
His breath moved with the wind.
Not trying to sense.
Just being.
Krishna watched him with inner sight.
And then—
For one breath. One moment.
He felt something shift in Sabo.
A flicker.
A slip forward. A movement not made by the body, but by the will just before the body.
Not prediction.
Just flow alignment.
Towards Future Sight.
Something his brothers should never have reached so early.
Krishna inhaled slowly.
Then let the moment pass.
When the others rejoined him, he didn't tell them what he'd felt.
Instead, he stood.
Faced them.
"You all did well," he said.
Ace raised a brow. "Even Luffy?"
Luffy burped. "I didn't die!"
Krishna nodded. "Exactly."
Sabo chuckled. "We're getting better. But you didn't strike once."
"I didn't need to."
"Why not?"
Krishna looked at them all.
Then said, "Because sometimes, the best way to fight is to stop needing to prove you can win."
Ace looked away, jaw clenched. But he didn't argue.
Sabo nodded slowly.
Luffy fell out of the tree again.
Krishna breathed in deeply.
Tomorrow, they would face cold.
But tonight… they had felt flow.
And that was enough.
When they returned to camp, none of them spoke about the sparring.
They didn't need to.
The silence between them wasn't awkward.
It was growing space.
Sabo sat closest to Krishna that evening, watching the fire quietly.
Ace didn't brag about anything.
And Luffy didn't ask who won.
Because somehow, without victory, they all knew:
Today, they hadn't trained their bodies.
They'd trained their rhythm.
And Krishna—divine, distant, and listening—had taken one more step not toward dominance…
…but toward Sovereignty.
The mountain river cut through the clearing like a blade sharpened by silence.
It carved through the clearing like a silver blade, its water fed by snowmelt from peaks higher than clouds. Narrow, fast, and deathly still at its edges—like it was waiting.
No birds sang here. No wind whispered. Only the hush of water, gliding over stone like chilled breath against skin.
Krishna stood at its edge, barefoot and still.
He didn't say a word.
Didn't give a speech.
He didn't test the water with his toes. Didn't pause for mental preparation.
He walked in.
The current curled around his ankles like fangs disguised as silk. Up to his calves. Knees. Waist.
Then he sat.
Fully immersed. Cross-legged. Spine erect.
No shiver. No twitch. No words.
He inhaled once.
Held it.
Then exhaled — slow and steady, steam rising — as though cold meant nothing.
Behind him, chaos erupted.
"ARE YOU INSANE?!"
Ace stood at the bank, one foot in the water and already regretting life, and flinched backward from the riverbank like it had tried to bite him.
"That's not cold! That's weaponized snow!"
Sabo crouched next to him, dipping a finger in and pulling it out like he'd touched acid. "I think my bones just apologized to me, and I can't feel my nail."
Luffy?
Luffy had already sprinted straight in — and was now screaming.
"AAAAHHHHHH!! THIS IS WHERE FISH COME TO DIE!! I'M DYING!!!"
Krishna didn't react.
He didn't even blink.
Eventually — through shame, pride, or sheer idiocy — all three entered the water.
Somehow.
Sabo went first. Breathing in rhythm. Every motion careful. Methodical. He had inched in slow, one limb at a time, using breath drills to hold composure.
Ace, of course, stormed in yelling, "I'M NOT AFRAID OF ROCK WATER!" and regretted every second after.
Luffy had no strategy. He'd simply shouted, "FREEDOM!!" and bellyflopped. He flopped into the shallows, rolled like a noodle, and began chanting, "I'm brave! I'm brave! I'M DYING!"
They all regretted it.
The water wasn't just cold—it was soul-freezing. The kind of cold that crawled into your bones and whispered, give up.
Krishna said nothing.
His stillness had not changed.
Luffy, after ninety seconds, fled the river shrieking "I CAN'T FEEL MY BRAIN!"
He scrambled out, blue-lipped and steaming, on his back facing the sky.
"I… I saw… the other side…"
Sabo lasted three minutes before frost kissed his lungs. He shivered the entire time, but his breathing stayed calm. Focused.
He pulled himself out calmly.
When he stepped out, he didn't speak, face pale but breath measured. Just nodded to Krishna once, and promptly passed out for a bit.
Ace, of course, refused to be outdone.
Ace gritted his teeth and endured nearly six — before his teeth started chattering so hard it sounded like drumrolls, and his full-body trembling made him slip under and resurface cursing ice gods that didn't exist.
When he got out, he muttered, "Not that cold," then promptly passed out for forty seconds, beside Sabo.
Krishna remained seated.
Eyes closed.
Breathing shallow. Steady.
And no one noticed:
The water around him was colder than theirs.
Because while the others endured the trial…
The water wasn't cold enough for him.
And Krishna had made it worse for himself.
His nano-machines didn't warm him.
That would've betrayed the point.
No, he used them to subtly lower the water temperature around his body—ten degrees colder, edge to edge.
Not to prove dominance.
Not out of arrogance.
It was purpose.
To make the discipline honest.
He would never lessen the pain.
He would never cheat the trial.
But he would always raise the ceiling.
Only deepen the threshold.
Even if no one else knew.
For himself.
And never mention it.
Sheshika floated by on a curved bark boat, lounging like a queen.
"I would like everyone to note I'm participating."
Krishna opened one eye.
"By floating?"
"I am in the presence of adversity," she said smugly. "And I'am cold-adjacent. That counts."
She drifted past with regal indifference, humming something ancient.
Medha's voice entered Krishna's mind without warning.
"Core temperature of subjects stabilizing. Luffy's metabolic spike was irrational. Ace's thermal nerves are adapting. Sabo's inner organ stress was precise and efficient. Impressive."
Krishna said nothing aloud.
But he felt it.
Cold wasn't the enemy.
Cold was the silence beneath reaction.
He wasn't resisting the pain.
He was listening to it.
Fifteen minutes passed.
The brothers sat by the fire again, wrapped in blankets Makino had smuggled into their packs secretly. Steam rose from their skin. They huddled like survivors.
"I can't feel my nose," Luffy mumbled. "Do I still have a nose?"
"You didn't have a brain," Ace muttered, "and that didn't stop you."
Sabo added sticks to the flames, silent as ever.
Krishna walked out of the stream, finally, thirty-four minutes after entering.
Steam rolled off him like mist around a mountain.
His hair was soaked. His eyes calm. His breath even.
He sat near the fire and didn't say a word.
Didn't gloat.
Didn't judge.
Just closed his eyes, folded his legs again, and simply sat by the fire and resumed stillness in warmth.
As if it had never ended.
Sabo glanced at him, respectful.
Luffy peeked at him through the blanket folds.
"…You're crazy."
Ace looked away.
But he felt it too.
Krishna hadn't endured more.
He had welcomed it.
And something in his silence softened.
Krishna wasn't trying to win.
He was just… there. Constant. Composed.
Like the river had nothing to take from him because it had never touched his will.
Later, as the fire turned orange and the wind picked up, Krishna stood alone near the stream again.
Medha pulsed gently into Krishna's thoughts.
"Your core temperature has dropped 0.7 degrees. You've increased your frost threshold by twenty percent. Your lungs compressed without panic. Your divine nervous system now records adaptive flow under sub-zero duress. Muscle resilience has climbed. Pain-response has decoupled from stress signals. You're evolving."
Krishna opened his eyes.
"It's not about pain," he said. "It's about… stillness beneath pain."
"Most break before finding it."
"I know."
"Why raise the cold?"
"So their normal becomes stronger than yesterday's extreme."
A pause.
"That logic sounds like Garp."
Krishna almost smiled.
Then he stepped back into the water.
Just once more.
Because pain faded.
But discipline remained.
Krishna inhaled.
Let the frost in his bones sink deeper.
It was quiet there.
Quiet enough to hear growth.
When the others had fallen asleep in their blankets, Krishna returned to the river.
Alone.
No witnesses.
No comparison.
The water, still black under the moonlight, welcomed him like an old foe.
He walked back in.
One step. Then two.
Then sat again.
Sheshika watched from a branch above.
"You're not competing with them," she said.
"No."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Teaching my body to listen where others panic."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Your soul's evolving again."
"I feel it."
"And?"
"I'm not ready for it yet."
She hissed softly. "Sssensible."
Then added, "You know Ace will try to match this tomorrow."
"I know."
"And fail."
"He won't break."
"No," she agreed. "But he'll suffer."
Krishna didn't answer.
The moon rose higher.
And the boy in the water didn't tremble.
He simply breathed.
The air cracked.
There was no warning.
No thunderclap. No haki tremor. No birds scattering.
Just impact.
A sonic boom split the treetops. Birds exploded into the sky. Dirt flew. A crater exploded at the edge of the training ground—ten meters wide, four meters deep, and radiating menace, dirt flung skyward, dust rippling outward like a small-scale earthquake.
And from its center, rising through the settling smoke like a sleepy titan,
"WHO'S SLACKING OFF IN THIS DAMN FOREST?!"
The silhouette rose from the smoke, chewing something loudly.
"YOU CALL THIS TRAINING?! I'VE SEEN SLOTHS MOVE WITH MORE PURPOSE!"
Ace choked on his breakfast rice.
Sabo instinctively dropped into a low stance.
Luffy screamed, "GRANDPA!" and launched himself toward the crater.
He was intercepted mid-air by a fist the size of his dreams.
"NOT EVEN A 'HELLO', HUH?!"
Luffy pinged off three trees and landed in the same bush as last time.
Sheshika sighed from a branch. "Ah. Chaos returns."
Monkey D. Garp emerged, cracking his neck and tossing peanut shells over his shoulder. He looked like a retired war god dressed in retirement clothes or a villain from a bedtime story gone horribly wrong.
He looked older than last time—more wrinkled, more scarred—but somehow bigger. Like the years had carved mountains into his back.
A sack of crackers hung from his shoulder.
He took one out. Bit it. Chewed with judgment.
"You lot look like soggy goats."
"We trained in the river," Ace grumbled, brushing dirt from his shoulder.
"Ah," Garp said, nodding. "So Krishna tried to drown you again. Good."
He threw a sandal at Ace's head.
It connected with perfect precision.
Krishna stood where he was, calm.
Unblinking.
As if he'd known.
He'd felt the haki spike mid-descent.
And he hadn't moved.
"Why do you look so calm?" Garp grumbled, stepping into view, bag of crackers in one hand, sandal missing. "I fall out of the sky, and you just keep breathing like a monk."
Krishna inclined his head politely.
Luffy crawled out of the bush, dizzy. "I missed you!"
Garp stared. "You have snot on your cheek."
"Thanks!"
He flicked another peanut at Luffy's forehead.
Moments later, the training ground was alive with chaos.
Sabo tried to stand formally. "Sir, we were just—"
Garp cut him off. "Training soft. I can smell the comfort."
Ace bristled. "We just finished cold-water resistance—"
Garp swung his bag of crackers like a hammer. "Cold-water what? I trained in lava once!"
Krishna raised an eyebrow.
"No, really!" Garp shouted. "Didn't last long. But it built character."
Sheshika whispered to Sabo, "That explains many things."
Training paused.
Garp sat on a rock that didn't belong there five minutes ago.
He waved a fish around like a conductor's baton while scolding each of them.
"Luffy, your stance is garbage. Ace, you're too tight in the shoulders. Sabo, you look like you've been reading instead of punching. Krishna…"
He paused.
Then squinted.
"…Why do you even calmer now?"
Krishna didn't reply.
Garp huffed and bit into the fish.
"Right then!" Garp barked. "If you think you're done, let me test it."
And proceeded to attack all four of them at once.
With the fish.
Without warning, he hurled a sandal skyward — and vanished.
What followed was less training, more ambush comedy.
Garp didn't spar. He descended upon them like a one-man typhoon.
Sabo got hit first. Garp blurred into motion and swatted him with a clean overhand fish-strike that left a perfect scale-shaped imprint on his cheek—and was hurled into a barrel of river fish. "TASTE NATURE!"
Ace tried to retaliate with a burst of Soru, only to be caught mid-step and launched skyward with a flick to the chin.
Luffy launched with Gomu Gomu no Bazooka — and got caught mid-stretch, tied into a pretzel, and left hanging on a tree like laundry.
Then came Krishna. He moved last.
Garp feinted left, swung wide with the fish, and—
Krishna vanished.
Soru.
Then Kami-e.
The fish missed air.
Krishna reappeared six meters behind Garp, crouched, balanced.
Eyes narrow.
"Hmm," Garp muttered. "You're not flinching."
Krishna didn't answer.
Garp struck again. This time he went high.
Krishna flowed.
Kami-e. One slip of the ribcage.
Another blow. Krishna shifted off-axis, no exertion.
A feint. A low swipe with a rock.
Krishna… vanished.
Soru. Reappeared ten meters behind.
No words.
No strain.
Just effortless control.
Garp paused mid-spin.
"Well well…"
The storm didn't end. It just… changed shape.
Garp spent the next hour teaching through chaos.
To Ace: "Stop gritting your teeth when you dodge. You're fighting tension, not me. And don't sprint through the punch. Sprint with it!"
To Sabo: "Your breath is your recovery. It should lead your movement, not chase it."
To Luffy: "You're thinking about meat again, aren't you?! Stop thinking about meat while fighting. Think about meat after!"
To Krishna?
He said nothing.
But watched.
Every time Krishna dodged, repositioned, or didn't flinch, Garp's eye twitched slightly. Not with irritation.
With recognition.
Something in the old marine — that primal sense honed from decades of war — understood this wasn't just talent.
This was something else.
Time passed, and they collapsed in the grass.
All except Krishna.
He stood, untouched, watching clouds pass over the treetops.
Garp cracked a fresh rice cracker and chewed loudly.
Then, "You're not just strong anymore."
Krishna looked at him.
"You're something else," Garp muttered. "Something I've never seen."
He didn't say it as a compliment.
More like a warning.
Krishna didn't respond.
He simply bowed, slightly.
Respectful.
Not submissive.
Just aligned.
Later, they sat around the training fire.
Krishna stood off to the side, silent. Watching flames, listening to the wind.
Luffy was eating something that may or may not have been real food.
Sabo cleaned a scrape on his arm.
Ace sat, arms crossed, gaze flickering between Krishna and Garp.
The old man chewed slowly, then leaned toward Ace.
"You're pissed at him."
Ace tensed. "No, I'm not."
Garp slapped the back of his head.
"You're jealous, kid. And that's good."
Ace blinked.
Garp folded his arms, voice lower now.
"That boy's walking a path even I can't follow. Don't let that make you feel small. Let it sharpen you."
"And you think you're being left behind."
Still nothing.
"That boy's not in a race with you," Garp said, quieter now. "He's in a race with the sky. You're not supposed to catch him."
Ace looked up. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do?"
Garp smiled, oddly soft. "Punch higher."
Ace smirked.
Then, "Thanks, Gramps."
"Now go fetch my sandal. I lost it when I kicked that tree."
"It's in the canopy."
"Then climb."
Luffy climbed onto Krishna's back uninvited. Krishna let him.
Sabo laughed for the first time that day.
Garp sat back and looked at the fire.
Then at Krishna.
The divine child didn't glow.
He didn't radiate power.
He just… was.
Perfect posture. Quiet breath. Eyes deeper than they should've been.
And Garp felt something ancient crawl up his spine.
A question he couldn't name.
And a whisper he didn't like,
"He's not what we're used to."
That night, after training.
Luffy fell asleep curled around Sheshika, who hissed constantly but never moved away, instead moved closer.
Sabo sat near Krishna, quietly patching a tear in his sleeve.
And Krishna?
He watched the stars.
His Observation Haki pulsed faintly, not to scan—
But to feel the ripple left behind by Garp.
That man—coated in idiocy, steeped in unpredictability—was still formidable.
Still wise.
Still dangerous.
And yet…
Krishna wasn't afraid of him.
He was listening.
And somewhere inside, the Martial God Body recognized the old man's strikes—not as threats…
…but as gifts.
Medha whispered through Krishna's thoughts.
"Garp's eye movement patterns recorded. Spikes of tension registered."
"He's reading me."
"He doesn't understand what he's reading."
Krishna looked at his hands.
"I'm still grounded."
"Barely."
He smiled faintly.
Then said nothing.
Because this wasn't a fight.
It was recognition.
And Garp?
He'd just glimpsed something holy, hiding in flesh.
Not loud. Not wind-swept.
Just a low, steady hum — as if the world itself had exhaled and decided to listen.
The fire had dulled to embers.
No crackle, no pop. Just the steady breath of dying flame. The clearing was wrapped in a silence that wasn't empty—it listened.
The boys sat in a rough circle, each a different shadow against the glow.
Krishna stood alone, lit by orange glow and moonlight.
His voice, when it came, was soft—but it carried through the clearing.
"Tonight, we stop."
Ace looked up mid-stretch. "Stop what?"
"Everything."
Luffy blinked from inside a pile of blankets. "Even thinking?"
"That too."
"You've run," Krishna said softly. "You've burned. You've drowned. Now… sit."
Ace grunted. "What kind of training is this? Meditation?"
"No," Krishna said. "Alignment."
Sabo was already sitting cross-legged. He didn't ask why.
Krishna stepped forward and motioned.
"Sit. Spine tall. Hands light. Let the world arrive."
They gathered around the fire—Ace begrudgingly, Luffy giggling, Sabo already stilled.
Krishna moved between them like drifting mist. He adjusted their posture—not like a drillmaster, but like a monk tuning strings. Tilted hips. Realigned spines.
A gentle press between Luffy's shoulder blades.
A tilt to Ace's pelvis, enough to ease tension in the hips.
A tap to Sabo's wrists, unclenching invisible worries.
He didn't correct. He re-tuned.
Ace groaned. "Feels like my back's trying to escape."
"Good," Krishna replied.
"That's not a good thing!"
But he stayed seated.
Then Krishna returned to his place and folded his legs.
"Close your eyes."
They did.
And the silence returned.
Not quiet.
Silence.
Not rigid. Not forced.
Stillness, here, wasn't still.
It moved — gently, beneath the surface — like water held in a perfect bowl.
Luffy fidgeted for the first two minutes. Then stilled.
Sabo settled in like he'd been born to it.
Ace lasted longer than expected without complaining.
And Krishna?
Krishna, at the center, closed his eyes.
And the world stopped needing to be loud.
Krishna didn't enter meditation.
He was meditation.
He extended his Observation Haki.
Not to reach outward.
But to feel within.
Not far.
Not wide.
Deep.
He didn't reach for life signs or threats or heartbeat patterns.
He listened for presence.
For pulse echoes.
For the soft vibration between soul and breath.
One by one, he felt them.
Each breath from his brothers echoed differently.
Luffy was chaotic—spiky energy, pulses that surged and vanished. But somewhere under that storm was stillness, buried and sacred. A drum with no rhythm, yet somehow in perfect time.
Sabo was water—gentle flow, barely touching the banks. His breath didn't move. It swept. A breeze that didn't move leaves but whispered across them.
Ace was fire—rising, breaking, holding. But tonight… it was quiet. Flickering. Trying. A fire that didn't flare, but coiled like a hot coal, waiting.
And Krishna…
Krishna felt himself between them.
Not above. Not ahead.
Just between.
A bridge.
He felt his own breath loop outward.
Then come back through them.
No longer separate.
Not ahead. Not above.
But among.
Medha's voice hummed in his mind.
"You're harmonizing."
"I'm not trying."
"Exactly."
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time bent in silence.
The forest shifted around them, not with wind—but with awareness.
The moonlight softened.
And Krishna felt the bond form—not like an explosion.
Each boy's energy — their haki, their rhythm, their raw self — began to settle not like dust, but like roots.
Reaching. Twisting. Finding each other under soil.
Sheshika watched from above.
Her tongue flicked once.
She whispered: "Is this a technique?"
"No," Medha replied, unheard by any but Krishna. "This is communion."
"Looks like stillness."
"It's not. It's deep motion without movement."
Something shimmered in the stillness.
Not haki.
Not divinity.
Presence.
Ace's pulse slowed to match the breeze.
Sabo's mind dissolved into his breath.
Luffy… stopped moving.
Even the world hushed.
And Krishna?
Krishna opened his eyes.
But not to see.
To feel.
Each of them was still breathing—but not separately.
They were breathing with him.
For one perfect moment…
They were one.
When the fire finally cracked again, no one flinched.
Krishna opened his eyes.
The fire was nearly out.
But the air around it pulsed with quiet power.
He looked at them — Ace, Sabo, Luffy — and didn't see students.
He saw mirrors.
Not of him.
Of each other.
Of the path they were forging, side by side.
He stood slowly.
Sabo opened his eyes first.
Then Ace.
Then Luffy.
All three looked at Krishna.
He said nothing.
Because he didn't need to.
They broke formation gently. No one spoke of what had happened. No one needed to define it.
But they felt it.
A shift.
Not in strength.
In weight.
In how it felt to sit beside each other.
Ace didn't ask what had happened.
Sabo didn't need to.
Luffy just grinned and said, "That was kinda nice."
Later, Krishna sat alone beneath the same tree he always returned to.
Sheshika slithered nearby, silent.
Medha whispered through his mind,
"Ace is syncing. Sabo's breath now harmonizes with peripheral motion. Luffy's instincts are aligning with external flow."
"And me?" Krishna asked.
"You've stopped teaching."
Krishna tilted his head. "What does that mean?"
"It means they're not learning from you anymore."
"They're learning through you."
He closed his eyes.
And smiled—softly.
Not from pride.
From peace.
Later that night, when the others had fallen asleep, Krishna sat beneath a tree, eyes skyward.
He didn't train.
Didn't flex haki.
Just breathed.
And felt the current beneath all things.
A current not of power.
But of connection.
And somewhere, deep within his divine core, the Martial God Body listened to the three resonances it now considered kin—
And began to prepare for the next threshold.
Not in solitude.
But in rhythm.
Krishna didn't sleep that night.
He didn't train either.
He sat, knees tucked to his chest, beneath the great flamewood tree that bent toward the river. The water shimmered like ink in the moonlight. Somewhere in the darkness, frogs murmured. Leaves danced, whispering secrets only those who listened deeply could hear.
The fire from earlier had burned out.
But something inside him had not.
It was pulsing.
Quietly.
Like the breath of a mountain waiting to rise.
The forest was no longer asleep.
It watched.
It breathed.
Somewhere beyond the trees, the moon hovered low, casting a light so gentle it felt like memory. The river glistened. The fire had long since died. But Krishna hadn't moved.
He sat cross-legged beneath the flamewood tree, eyes half-lidded, palms resting softly on his knees. Breathing not as habit — but as ritual.
Not meditating.
Not recovering.
Just… listening.
Medha broke the silence, her voice low, crystalline in his mind.
"You haven't moved in three hours. And yet every system in your body is accelerating."
He didn't answer.
"The Martial God Body is now adapting without instruction. You no longer require stimulus. You're evolving through stillness."
Still no reply.
"Krishna. At this pace… you will exceed my predictive matrices in under ninety days."
Now he opened his eyes.
They glinted faintly — not with power.
With presence.
"Is that fear, Medha?"
"It's caution." A pause. "You're not learning anymore. You're becoming."
He looked down at his hands.
They weren't glowing.
But the space between each finger felt charged.
Not electrically. Not spiritually.
Resonantly.
As if his body were slowly tuning itself to an orchestra only he could hear.
A divine pitch rising beneath the bones.
Not loud.
Not sharp.
Just true.
But his skin felt... empty. Like the body was lagging behind what was growing inside.
A divine dissonance.
A tide swelling under the surface.
He wasn't straining. He wasn't pushing.
He was drifting.
And with every passing day, the gap between what he was and what he was meant to be was closing.
Faster than prophecy.
Faster than design.
He thought about the training.
About Ace's defiance softening into self-trust.
About Sabo's breath syncing with wind.
About Luffy's instinct no longer being chaos—but intuition.
They were catching fire.
Each in their own way.
Medha continued, her tone more analytical now.
"Passive absorption cycles have increased exponentially. The data you've internalized from Garp's movement, Shanks' old sparring patterns, and even Ace's emotional bursts — all of it is being folded back into your soul lattice."
"I designed the Martial God Body to grow. But not to interpret emotion as data. Not like this."
Krishna exhaled slowly.
"Then it was never just the body."
"No," Medha admitted. "It's your soul."
"The divine fragment embedded at rebirth — it's waking up."
He stood.
Not with force.
But like a wave pulling itself from the sand.
No strain. Just motion.
The air around him shifted, subtly, like the space itself was adjusting to make room.
Krishna didn't flex his Haki.
Didn't summon anything.
But still, the ground beneath his bare feet felt more rooted.
More aware.
He walked to the riverbank.
Kneeled.
Touched the surface.
The water rippled — not from his hand.
From his resonance.
Medha's voice was quiet now.
Almost reverent.
"Krishna… this isn't just evolution. This is acceleration into divinity."
"And you're not pushing."
"You're being drawn."
He nodded.
Eyes on the stars reflected in the water.
"I can feel it."
"You should be years away from where you're standing."
"I know."
"You were never supposed to be ready this early."
He looked back at the camp, at the three curled silhouettes by the fire.
"I'm not ready."
"You say that… but your soul disagrees."
Across the field, Ace was half-sitting in his sleep again — like he always did when he'd fought something inside himself during the day.
Sabo lay near the tree roots, one arm behind his head, breathing steady.
Luffy had somehow crawled into Krishna's old blanket roll and was now wrapped like a noodle.
Krishna watched them with something almost like… reverence.
Not because they were weaker.
Because they still burned slow.
And fire that burns slow lasts longer.
He would need them.
To remind him of time.
Of breath.
Of being mortal.
They were sleeping.
But Krishna could feel them.
Their pulses.
Their rhythms.
Their growth.
And something else.
Trust.
He stepped away from the river.
Let the water slide from his hand without tension.
Medha's voice returned.
"Observation Haki nearing long-range refinement. Emotional signature readings fully mapped. Armament pathways stabilizing. Conqueror's output maintaining flow without spikes."
"And?"
A pause.
"You're starting to glide, Krishna. You're no longer walking forward. You're being pulled forward by resonance."
He turned his face to the stars.
Eyes half-lidded. Silent.
"The paths are calling you."
The Five Divine Paths — Anantadeha Mārga (Path of Infinite Body), Asi Kriyā (Divine Sword Ritual), Hridaya Tantra (Heart's Weave), Kāya Kalpa Sūtra (Scripture of Body Transformation), and Padanyāsa Vidhi (Pilgrimage of Feet) — were no longer just disciplines.
They were symptoms.
Of something deeper.
And Krishna was no longer the boy choosing them.
He was becoming the one they chose.
Not just strength.
Not just flow.
But source.
The bridge between divine soul and physical vessel had grown shorter. And every breath brought him closer to unlocking the evolved states of haki that were only whispers now:
Flow Sight[More Advanced than Future Sight].
Armament Flow[More Advanced than Ryou and Internal Destruction].
Sovereign Will[More Advanced than Conquerors Infusion].
They were still out of reach.
But no longer distant.
Like standing before a door you know will open—but not yet.
Not tonight.
He returned to the tree.
Sat beneath it.
But this time, the stillness didn't feel like peace.
It felt like waiting.
The kind of quiet that comes before a storm you're not afraid of — only because you know it belongs to you.
He closed his eyes again.
And drifted.
Not into sleep.
But into rhythm.
Into a space beneath sound, beneath thought.
Where his brothers' growth beat like a distant drum.
Where the world began to tilt toward him, just slightly.
Where destiny — not fate, but earned path — began to thread itself through his spine.
And in that silence, the soul moved.
Not loudly.
But with purpose.
A breeze swept through the forest then.
Cool.
Wordless.
Carrying no scent, no warning, no message.
But Krishna felt it.
In his bones.
In his breath.
In his soul.
It wasn't change.
It was readiness.
And far beyond, buried beneath sky and sea and empire—he felt it.
Conflict.
The next great thing coming.
It would hurt.
And it would shape him.
He stood.
Let the breath out slowly.
Looked up.
The stars didn't blink.
And neither did he.
The fire is not always loud.
Sometimes, it burns in silence—beneath still hands, behind closed eyes, beside brothers who don't yet realize they've begun something sacred.
Tonight, the world did not shift through force or fury.
It shifted through resonance.
And Krishna?
He didn't rise as a warrior.
He drifted as something more.
Author's Note:
Yo, divine degenerates and dharmic believers—
This part was a quiet storm.
We didn't see Krishna clash blades or conquer foes.
We saw him wait.
And through that waiting, the truth emerged:
That strength isn't always forged in blood. Sometimes it's grown in breath, in stillness, in the wordless pact of brothers learning to listen to one another—beyond pride, beyond power.
Ace began to trust.
Sabo began to sense.
Luffy began to align.
And Krishna?
He's not racing anymore.
He's being pulled—by something older, deeper, and more divine than even he understands.
Medha can't calculate it. Garp can't name it.
Even we don't have to.
All we have to do is feel it coming.
If this part resonated, drop me a review, whisper "I see the drift," or offer a cracker to Garp in ritual sacrifice.
Next chapter:
Pain. Power. Progress.
We break.
Or we burn.
—Author out.
(Sheshika now believes she's developed a new serpent breathing technique. Ace swears she hissed in rhythm.)