As soon as Aramaki consumed the Logia-type Devil Fruit, their sparring sessions shifted drastically. The new power granted him the near-complete immunity that all Logia wielders enjoyed—ordinary physical strikes passed harmlessly through his transformed body. To Jack, however, this wasn't a setback. In fact, it was liberating. Knowing that his blows could no longer accidentally kill Aramaki, Jack unleashed his full strength during every spar, hammering his comrade with devastating force.
One afternoon, Aramaki tested his growing abilities by towering over Jack, shaping himself into a massive form three times Jack's height. He wove the Devil Fruit into his fighting style, summoning great thorned trunks that lashed out like whips. With a roar, he swung one spike-covered trunk in a sweeping arc meant to crush Jack outright.
Jack, unfazed, drew his blade. He stepped into the attack with ruthless precision, cutting across the massive trunk. The clash was explosive—Aramaki's trunk was obliterated instantly, splintered into fragments. The impact sent Aramaki hurtling backward through the air, smashing into the forest with earth-shaking force. Before he could recover, Jack leapt high above him, sword raised, and came crashing down with terrifying ferocity.
Blow after blow rained upon Aramaki's tree-form body. Each strike hit with the force of a cannon, tearing apart his wooden defenses. Jack's assault was so overwhelming it seemed as though he would level the mountain itself. Aramaki, gasping under the relentless onslaught, was forced to use his Devil Fruit to regenerate the landscape Jack destroyed.
Yet, when they weren't sparring, Aramaki devoted himself to understanding the intricacies of his Devil Fruit. Through relentless experimentation, he learned new ways to weaponize his powers. He could drain the moisture from living beings, withering prey into husks—a technique he first discovered by hunting and testing on animals. He also learned to return that stolen water, giving him a terrifying balance between destruction and restoration.
Gradually, Aramaki's control grew more refined. He crafted sturdier tree-forms that could endure multiple strikes from Jack before collapsing—already a massive improvement from his earlier attempts. He discovered he could accelerate the growth of an entire forest, commanding it to sprout and expand within minutes. With practice, he learned to summon specific trees at will and even produce their fruits in a single day, ensuring he and Jack never ran out of food or resources.
Despite the versatility of his Devil Fruit, Aramaki never neglected his body. Jack constantly reminded him that a Devil Fruit's true potential could only shine when backed by a strong physique. Driven by that truth, Aramaki kept pace with Jack's punishing physical routines.
Meanwhile, Jack's own training had taken a new direction. Having long surpassed mere strength training, he focused on awakening his Observation Haki. He wrapped a thick blindfold around his head, refusing to rely on sight, and sparred against Aramaki in total darkness. At first, his strikes were clumsy, but within two days, he was already sensing Aramaki's presence. After a week, he could track every attack with consistency. From then on, Jack stopped removing the blindfold altogether, choosing to live as if blind—his reliance on pure perception reminiscent of the admiral Issho. Aramaki attempted to replicate the method, though progress came more slowly for him.
Jack's growth didn't stop there. Through his relentless cultivation of the Hercules Method, he advanced to a level where his body underwent an astonishing transformation. His skin hardened until it resembled the invulnerable defense of Big Mom herself. Ordinary blades could no longer pierce him; his flesh felt as though it were covered in impenetrable scales. In a single year, Jack had forged himself into a being whose durability and raw power rivaled monsters of legend.
Together, they pushed each other beyond human limits. Aramaki refined mastery over the forest itself, while Jack honed his haki and shaped his body into a weapon of war. What began as simple sparring had turned into the crucible where both men were being tempered into something far greater than ordinary pirates.
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Jack and Aramaki faced each other once again, both of them wearing blindfolds. By now, neither had removed them in weeks—Observation Haki had become their eyes. Without words, they sprinted forward, clashing in the middle of the training ground with unrelenting ferocity.
Aramaki was the first to act, summoning roots that burst from the ground like serpents. They slithered with eerie precision before striking straight like spears, aiming to impale Jack. In response, Jack's blade danced through the air. Unlike his earlier, brute-force style, his swordsmanship now carried a refined sharpness. Each swing cut with precision rather than impact, severing root after root before they could touch him.
Aramaki gritted his teeth and multiplied his assault, twisting the roots in coiling patterns to increase their speed. He was training not just his Devil Fruit control but also his Observation Haki, pushing himself to anticipate Jack's movements even without sight.
Jack, holding his sword with one hand, unleashed a flying slash that whistled through the air. Aramaki countered instantly, conjuring thick branches as a shield. The slash tore into them but failed to break through completely. At the same time, he sprouted a flowering plant that launched a storm of thorn needles toward Jack.
Jack didn't panic. Using his momentum, he spun midair with acrobatic precision, narrowly slipping through the hail of thorns. As he landed, he twisted his body and unleashed another strike, his sword aura sharper and more focused than before.
But Aramaki was ready. Quietly, he had extended roots behind Jack, waiting for the perfect moment. They lashed out like whips, aiming to ensnare him from his blind spot.
Jack sensed the danger at the last instant—his haki flared, warning him of the attack. He pivoted on his heel, blade flashing in a tight arc, severing the ambush before it could bind him.
The clash continued in this fashion, neither side giving an inch. Jack honed his cutting sword style, every strike clean and decisive, while Aramaki pressed the limits of his root manipulation and haki perception. To anyone watching, their sparring resembled a deadly battle rather than training, but for them, it was the crucible where they sharpened themselves into weapons fit for the New World.
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After weeks of relentless training and sparring, Jack and Aramaki finally decided to take it easy. The two were sitting on the shore, fishing rods in hand, the salty breeze brushing against their faces. For once, the air was calm, and neither of them was drenched in sweat or covered in dirt.
Aramaki leaned back, lying half-naked on a sun-warmed rock, basking under the light with a contented sigh. "I swear, I hope something interesting happens on this godforsaken island. It's too boring. We train, we eat, we sleep—repeat. That's all we've been doing."
Jack, sitting upright beside him, rested his chin on his fist as he watched the waves. "Yeah," he admitted, "it's been pretty dull. Same thing, day after day. No real challenges. Honestly, it's starting to feel more exhausting than the fights themselves."
Before Aramaki could reply, both of their rods suddenly dipped forward, lines tugging violently. Instinctively, the two pulled back in unison. The sea erupted as a massive Sea King burst out of the water, snapping its jaws. Without hesitation, they struck together—the beast was slain instantly, collapsing back into the surf with a thunderous splash.
"Guess that solves dinner," Jack said casually. He dragged the Sea King ashore, built a fire, and began preparing its flesh. The smell of roasting meat soon mingled with the salty air, but both of them kept fishing, rods lazily dangling back into the water.
It was then that Jack stiffened. His senses—refined through Observation Haki—picked up something unusual. A presence. Strong. Focused. Approaching. Slowly, he turned his gaze toward the horizon and spotted it: a small raft drifting toward shore, carrying only a single figure.
Jack's lips curved upward into a predatory smile. 'Finally, he thought. Something worth my time'