With their decision to live together made, Jack wasted no time in introducing Aramaki to his training regimen. The moment Aramaki saw it, his jaw dropped.
"You call this training?!" he blurted. "This is insane—no, it's suicide!"
Jack only grinned in response. He led Aramaki to a massive boulder, weathered and scarred from years of use. "This is the one I started with," he explained.
Aramaki's eyes widened. The stone towered higher than Jack's own height. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, already regretting his decision. Still, he swallowed hard and tried to push it. He strained, his feet digging into the dirt, but the boulder didn't budge an inch. His arms shook with effort before he finally slumped, panting.
"Impossible…" he muttered under his breath.
Jack chuckled. Without another word, he walked to an even larger boulder—twice the size of the first—and hoisted it onto his shoulders. "Surpass your limits," he said with a grin. "You won't get stronger by complaining." With that, he sprinted off, carrying his burden uphill as if it were nothing, leaving Aramaki gaping in disbelief.
Determined not to be left behind, Aramaki returned to his own boulder. No matter how he pushed, pulled, or leveraged his body, it refused to move. Hours passed. Sweat poured down his face, his hands blistered, and his knees ached. Meanwhile, every so often, he caught sight of Jack climbing up and down the mountain with his colossal boulder, moving like a machine.
By evening, Aramaki was still struggling with his stone, his muscles screaming in protest. Jack returned, balancing two massive boars on top of his training rock as though they weighed nothing.
"Dinner," Jack said casually. He butchered and prepared the boars, setting them over the fire. As the meat cooked, he sat in meditation, conserving his energy. Aramaki, however, refused to stop. His heart thundered in his chest, his lungs burned, but he kept pushing at the stubborn boulder.
'I need to prove I'm not worthless, he thought fiercely. Even if it kills me, I'll move this stone. I have to…'
With a final roar of effort, he threw his entire being into one last push. His legs shook, his arms screamed, and his vision blurred—but finally, blessedly, the boulder shifted. Just a little. It scraped against the earth, leaving a shallow track.
Aramaki collapsed instantly, falling to his knees, gasping for breath. Sweat drenched his body, but a triumphant smile spread across his face as he stared at the faint trail his effort had carved into the dirt.
Jack approached, his expression calm but approving. "Congratulations," he said, smiling at Aramaki.
Aramaki grinned back, pride shining in his eyes despite his exhaustion. Jack gestured toward the fire. "The boars are ready. Come eat."
They shared their first meal together. Aramaki ate cautiously, chewing slowly and saving every bite as though afraid the food might run out. Jack noticed and chuckled.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'll handle the hunting for now. But when you're strong enough to carry that boulder, I'll expect you to bring home dinner, too."
Aramaki nodded firmly, determination already burning anew in his gaze.
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Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as Jack and Aramaki trained together, forging not only their bodies but also their bond. Jack was relentless in his approach, always looking for ways to push Aramaki beyond his limits. Sparring became a regular part of their routine, and Jack often chose the cruelest timing—right after Aramaki had exhausted himself trying to push the massive boulder. The fights were never easy for Aramaki. During the first three months, he would frequently faint mid-spar, collapsing onto the dirt as Jack looked on, urging him to rise stronger the next day.
But slowly, change began to show. Instead of fainting, Aramaki would now simply fall to his knees, breathless but conscious, his strength gradually catching up to his willpower. Inspired by Jack's example, Aramaki attempted to imitate parts of his training. One day, he tried Jack's unusual practice of meditating while lifting the boulder. It looked simple enough from afar, but Aramaki lasted less than an hour before his arms gave out and the boulder slipped from his grasp. Still, he persisted, and Jack acknowledged his effort with a rare smile.
Yet training wasn't the only thing they shared. Aramaki, who had once survived on the streets, also began teaching Jack about the ways of the city. He led him to the bustling plazas of Taya Kingdom, where syndicates prowled and preyed on the weak. Aramaki showed Jack how to identify criminals, how to move unnoticed, and even how to pick targets worth robbing.
Jack was skeptical at first. "Why do we need money? We already have food and shelter," he asked, watching Aramaki slip a purse of coins from a thug's pocket.
Aramaki gave him a deadpan look. "Are you serious? Money is everything here. Don't you want to explore the seas one day? If we have enough, we can buy a real ship."
Jack smirked, unimpressed. "If we need a ship, we'll just take one. Why waste time saving?"
That answer left Aramaki blinking. "Hah… and here I thought you were squeaky clean. Looks like you've got some villain in you after all."
Jack's tone sharpened. "I won't steal from the innocent. But if it's scum—bandits and slavers, I won't hesitate. I'm not here to play the hero. I'll be a pirate."
Aramaki grinned and extended his hand. "Then I'll be your first mate." The two clasped hands tightly, a pact sealed without hesitation.
Soon after, they spotted a group of rugged men harassing a merchant in the plaza. Jack and Aramaki exchanged a knowing look and silently tailed them back to their hideout—a massive warehouse crawling with thugs.
"Hahahahaha! Those spineless fools won't ever report us. And even if they did, the Marines are already paid off!" one of the men boasted loudly, drawing laughter from his gang.
Jack and Aramaki waited for the right moment, then struck like shadows. Their ambush was sudden and merciless. Jack's raw strength allowed him to mow down his opponents swiftly, while Aramaki displayed surprising agility and precision, dancing between older, heavier fighters with sharp, methodical strikes.
The battle turned dangerous when one thug grabbed a flintlock pistol and aimed at Aramaki. Jack reacted instantly. He snatched a discarded gun from the floor, raised it, and fired without hesitation. The shot rang true, dropping the man where he stood.
Lowering the weapon, Jack felt an odd familiarity with it. The weight, the aim, the recoil—everything felt natural, as if his hands had always known how to kill with a gun. The thought lingered in his mind, but he didn't dwell on it. To him, such men were no different than beasts. They weren't people, not anymore. They were animals to be culled. It was the same way he imagined he'd someday view the Celestial Dragons.
When the last of the thugs fell, the boys looted the warehouse. Each took a flintlock pistol and a rifle. Aramaki claimed a sword, testing its balance in his hand, while Jack simply holstered the pistol as though it already belonged to him. They also gathered sacks of coin, glittering jewelry, and other valuables—spoils of their first real raid together.
For the first time, they weren't just training to survive. They were building something greater.