"Can I use it?"
The question came out before Hina could even open her mouth. Kuina's voice carried that same calm but eager energy Jin had come to recognize all too well—the kind that meant she'd already made up her mind.
Her eyes gleamed with quiet determination, reflecting the flickering lamplight inside the ship's cabin. "If the potion works the way you say it does, I should be able to accelerate my progress with Rokushiki. Right?"
Across the table, Hina sighed, crossing her arms. "You're really something, you know that? The captain literally just told you to rest your body, and here you are asking for shortcuts."
Kuina turned her head slowly, her tone dangerously calm. "Shortcuts? You want to run that by me again, Hina?"
"Oh, come on," Hina replied with a teasing grin, leaning back on her chair. "You heard him. You've been moving like a snail lately."
"Snail?" Kuina's tone sharpened like drawn steel. "You did not just call me that."
Makino sighed softly as she poured another pot of tea. "Here we go again…"
Jin pinched the bridge of his nose. "You two really can't go a day without trying to kill each other, can you?"
He looked toward Makino helplessly—his silent plea for rescue. She met his gaze, a faint amused smile curving her lips. She'd seen this exact argument at least fifty times before.
Without missing a beat, Makino set her teapot down and said in a honey-smooth tone, "Kuina, Hina—since you're both so energetic, why don't you help me test a new recipe I've been experimenting with? I found a strange type of chili in Cocoyasi Village. Thought I'd try something spicy."
Jin froze mid-sip. His eyes widened. Oh no. Not again.
A shiver went down his spine as a familiar, bone-deep chill crept into the room. He wasn't the only one—both Kuina and Hina turned pale at once.
"Ahaha—" Hina's forced laugh sounded more like a plea. "Th-that's great, Makino, but… I've been on a strict no-spice diet lately! You know, high-protein, low-heat regimen! Doctor's orders!"
Kuina quickly followed, her voice unusually high. "Same here! I've been focusing on—uh—meat-based recovery meals! Yeah, I can't risk messing with my energy flow. Sorry, Makino!"
The captain of the Eternal Life slowly turned his head, barely suppressing a grin. He wanted to applaud. The survival instincts on these two were impeccable.
Makino, meanwhile, tilted her head with a gentle, knowing smile. "Oh, what a shame," she said sweetly. "I suppose I'll just have to test it on Jin instead."
Bang.
Jin's heart metaphorically exploded. His smile froze.
"Wait—what?"
"You don't have to thank me," Makino continued, voice soft as silk. "You're always volunteering yourself for the good of the crew."
"I—uh—yes, but…" Jin tried to find an escape route. "See, the thing is, I've already had a long day forging and—"
"Perfect," Makino interrupted, still smiling. "A tired body needs a warm meal."
From across the table, Hina and Kuina chimed in at the same time, faces glowing with malicious glee.
"Wow, Captain, you're so lucky."
"So blessed to be her taste tester."
"Yeah, blessed," Jin muttered under his breath, eyes deadpan. "If I die, bury me with my blade."
Bear, who'd been sitting cross-legged near the galley entrance, clapped his massive paws together. "Boss, you're so lucky! I wish I could try Makino's new dish first!"
"You can have my portion," Jin said dryly.
Everyone laughed—except him.
The light mood eventually shifted as the plates were cleared. Jin sat back, serious now, fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. "Alright, back to business."
Kuina straightened immediately. Hina crossed one leg over the other. Makino's eyes softened but remained attentive.
Jin's gaze landed first on Kuina. "You'll hold off on the Bloodgrass elixir for now. You're still growing. Push too fast, and your bones will develop unevenly. Even if you recover quickly, the foundation will suffer—and that means cracks in your swordsmanship later."
Kuina looked disappointed but didn't argue. "Understood."
Jin nodded approvingly. Then he turned to Bear. "And you. How's your control training?"
Bear scratched the back of his furry head. "I'm getting there, boss. The crazy energy inside me doesn't take over anymore. I can meditate like you taught me, but…"
He hesitated, looking sheepish. "It's really boring."
Jin chuckled. "That's meditation for you. It's supposed to be boring. If you're comfortable, you're not growing."
Makino smiled at that, leaning her chin on her palm. "You should write that on the ship's mast. 'If you're comfortable, you're not growing.'"
"I would," Jin replied, "but Bear would probably try to eat the carving knife."
"Hey!" Bear pouted. "That was one time!"
Hina snickered. "One time too many, fuzzball."
Once the laughter died down, Jin's tone shifted again—lower, deliberate. "Bear, your next goal isn't strength. It's control. You're already powerful enough to shatter boulders with a sneeze. What you need now is precision. I'll find someone… or something… for you to spar against. Something that can push you into awakening your Armament Haki."
Bear's eyes lit up. "You mean I can finally—"
"—not yet," Jin cut in, raising a hand. "Be patient. For humans, awakening Armament Haki is about spirit and willpower. For beasts, it's more primal. It's instinct—pure survival drive. I've been researching it for weeks, but…" His jaw tightened slightly. "No concrete answers yet."
Kuina frowned. "So you're saying his body meets the requirements, but his instincts haven't clicked?"
"Exactly." Jin looked at her, impressed. "It's not about strength—it's about awareness. The body knows, but the mind hasn't caught up. When those two meet, that's when Armament manifests."
Bear nodded slowly, absorbing every word. "I'll keep training, boss."
"Good," Jin said, relaxing slightly. "And when it happens, it'll be on your own terms. Remember, the goal isn't to force evolution. It's to become it."
Makino smiled faintly. "You sound more like a philosopher every day."
Jin laughed softly. "Maybe I'm just getting old."
"You're fourteen," Hina deadpanned.
"Exactly." He smirked. "Tragic, isn't it?"
The laughter returned briefly, echoing against the wood-paneled walls.
Then silence fell again—comfortable, heavy with the sense of family.
Makino poured another round of tea, her movements graceful. The faint scent of citrus and iron filled the room. "You've been running yourself into the ground lately," she said gently, setting a cup in front of Jin. "When was the last time you actually rested?"
Jin arched an eyebrow. "You're starting to sound like my conscience."
"I'm serious," she said. Her gaze softened, but her tone was firm. "You act like you don't feel pain anymore. That's not strength, Jin."
For a heartbeat, his mask slipped. He stared at his reflection in the tea—his eyes dark, unreadable.
Then he smiled, faint and tired. "Pain's easy. You just learn to move with it."
Makino reached out and touched his wrist lightly. The simple contact froze him for a moment. "And when moving with it stops being enough?" she asked softly.
He looked up at her—then, unexpectedly, smiled. "Then I'll keep moving anyway."
Their eyes lingered just a little too long before Hina cleared her throat loudly. "Alright, that's enough whatever that was. Can we get back to business?"
Makino rolled her eyes, pulling her hand back with a knowing smile.
Jin chuckled under his breath. "Fine. We'll wrap it up."
He stood, resting one hand on the table. "Starting tomorrow, we resume full training. Kuina—focus on mastering Shave and strengthening your core. Hina—start pairing your Moon Step with rapid directional shifts. I'll personally test your reaction time."
Hina groaned. "Every time you 'personally test' me, I end up on the floor."
"Then stop falling," Jin said without missing a beat.
Even Makino couldn't help but laugh at that.
As the meeting drew to a close, Jin moved to the deck, the sea breeze catching his dark hair. The others followed, their silhouettes outlined against the moonlit waves.
Below them, the water from the newly split mountain shimmered, flowing freely toward Cocoyasi's fields—a reminder of what they'd built together.
The night was calm, but in Jin's heart, there was a quiet fire burning—a certainty that this peace wouldn't last.
He could already feel it: the pull of the Grand Line, the distant hum of chaos waiting beyond the horizon.
"Soon," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the stars. "This small sea won't be enough."
Behind him, Hina leaned against the railing, arms folded. "Already thinking ahead again?"
"Always."
She smirked. "You're impossible, Captain."
"Maybe," he said, turning slightly to meet her gaze. "But you still follow me, don't you?"
For once, Hina didn't fire back. She just looked away, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Makino watched them from the doorway, her expression unreadable, a mix of pride and worry.
Family. That was what they'd become—an odd, mismatched, powerful family bound by faith, fire, and the sea.
And though Jin Akasa smiled as he looked at them, part of him already stood somewhere far away… staring into the storms of the Grand Line.
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T/N :
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