[Note: What 'Leeks' means: Leeks are a type of allium vegetable, closely related to onions, garlic, and shallots that grow quickly and can be cut over and over again — just like people who are taken advantage of again and again without resisting.]
Morning broke over the deck, and two very different kinds of footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Kuro and Gin—bodies aching, legs trembling—staggered out of the training room like men returning from the battlefield. The dark circles beneath their eyes, the twitch in every muscle, told the whole brutal story of last night's "practice."
"Out of gas already?" Kuro drawled. He forced his spine straight, pretending the slightest breeze didn't make his knees buckle. With exaggerated nonchalance, he glanced at Gin, who looked one wobble away from collapse.
Gin bared his teeth. "This was nothing more than a warm-up."
Kuro's gaze dropped to Gin's vibrating calves. "Your legs disagree."
"Tsk."
Not that Kuro himself felt any better—he could hardly lift his arms—but pride was a powerful analgesic.
"Worry about yourself first," Gin shot back.
"Oh? Still feisty?" Kuro inhaled, willing the tremor out of his thighs. "Great. I was just thinking of knocking out two more sets on the bench press."
"Do it," Gin barked.
A familiar voice cut through the bickering.
"Senior, is the training room here?"
Zoro appeared at the hatch, bright-eyed and completely recovered after a single night's rest. The idea that a ship this small boasted a dedicated gym had shocked him so much that he sprinted here after he woke up. For a man set on becoming the world's greatest swordsman, nothing outranked training.
Kuro eyed the newcomer, recalling how Gawain had pounded him yesterday. He fought Gawain all day, slept once, and he's ready for more? Maniac.
Is he here for Gin? Or… for me?
Kuro and Gin exchanged a quick glance. Terror. Unspoken, mutual. Don't let the kid think we're weak.
Kuro cleared his throat and adopted an elder's tone. "This is the place, but you should balance work and—"
CLANG.
Zoro had already slapped a thirty-kilogram plate onto one end of the barbell. Testing the weight with one hand, he frowned—too light—and added another.
CLANG.
Kuro's liver quivered.
Beside him, Gin slipped back into the room, doubled the weight on his own bar, and began lifting with murderous resolve.
Kuro's plan to retreat evaporated. If Gin keeps this up he'll pull ahead, and that upstart kid Zoro… Gawain's words from yesterday resurfaced, filling him with dread. If the newbie surpasses me, Gawain will never let me live it down.
Grinding his teeth, Kuro re-entered the room and doubled his weight as well.
Zoro sensed the sudden tension. Two grown men who'd clearly trained all night had been about to leave—until he showed up. Was this some senior intimidation tactic?
Interesting, he thought, lips curling. But I'm no pushover.
He heaved the overloaded barbell, muscles bulging, every rep tearing the air with a whistle. Turning, he addressed the "Senior."
"If you're tired, you'd better rest. Overexertion is bad for aging bodies."
A vein popped in both foreheads.
"Aging?" they echoed.
"Arrogant brat!" Kuro snapped. "I'll show you the vice-captain's dignity. Gin, you don't want to be outdone by the rookie, do you?"
"Double it again!" Gin barked—though the current load already had him seeing stars.
Zoro's grin widened. So the ranking war starts now? Before I beat that monster Gawain, I won't lose to anyone else!
"Fine. I'll follow."
Ten minutes later, pained grunts—half lifting, half childbirth—rattled through the bulkheads. Passing crewmates paused to gape.
Nami, charts tucked under one arm, poked her head in and winced. "Men," she sighed. "There are better uses for a competitive streak."
"Big Sister Nami, you don't understand," a pirate whispered reverently. "This is… the passion of men."
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's sheer stupidity," she muttered, but left them to it—Gawain would only laugh if she tattled. Besides, she had navigation to handle; thanks to Gawain's trust, she now guided not only this ship but the Cat Brothers and Jango's patrols at Raven Harbor. In just two weeks she'd earned everyone's confidence.
Back in her cabin, she spread a sea chart, opened the porthole, and let the breeze spin the little windmill hanging there. Plucking an orange from Nojiko's potted tree, she peeled it lazily. Sweetness bloomed on her tongue, and contentment settled in her chest.
Night fell. Apart from the watch crew, the ship slept—or tried to. Deep in the gym, three warriors lay sprawled amid absurd mountains of iron, snoring like bears in winter.
Passing by, Nami gazed at the scene with a mixture of disgust and fondness. "Honestly," she whispered, "giant babies."
She fetched three blankets, draped them over the unconscious fools, and shut the door softly behind her.
Let them dream of victories; tomorrow they could ache together.