After lunch, Ron returned to training.
By now, after a full morning of practice, he could form the rune even with his eyes wide open. His focus was not perfect, distractions sometimes caused him to fail once or twice, but his casting time had already shortened to seven or eight seconds.
He kept at it. Again and again, shaping the rune in his mind, releasing the blade of wind, then sinking into meditation to recover.
Nine attempts. Ten. Eleven.
By the end of the afternoon, he had trained nearly thirty times. His Spirit was drained seven or eight times over, leaving him so fatigued he felt he could collapse at any moment. His body begged for sleep, his soul on the edge of exhaustion.
But the results were undeniable.
What once took ten seconds with his eyes closed now took only four seconds with eyes open. The Wind Blade was his, and it was becoming sharp.
…
Too tired to continue, Ron left training aside and walked into the kitchen humming. Half an hour later, several steaming dishes rested on the table.
"How's the taste? Can we call the lunch debt settled?"
Ron had already sampled his own cooking and was satisfied. Better than Nami's, at least.
Nami stared at the fish soup, scooped a spoonful, and sipped. She smacked her lips and muttered, "Hmm… average."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "That expression says it's delicious."
She didn't even blink. "You're mistaken. And since you used my ingredients, this meal counts as fifty Berries off your debt."
Ron fell silent.
Fine. At least it was something. In Nami's eyes, fifty Berries was worth a reindeer's worth of evaluation. That was high praise enough. He chuckled softly.
Nami blinked at his smile, then shrugged and wolfed down a third of the food. Standing, she declared, "Barely passable. You'll sleep on the sofa tonight."
The door shut behind her, leaving Ron staring at the ceiling, pondering a dangerous question. In this world, was fourteen considered legal? Or legal? Or… legal?
The answer was nowhere to be found. But perhaps it did not matter. After all, in two years… or six…
He shook the thought away, cleared the table, and returned to the sofa. His gaze lingered on the stack of charts resting in the corner of the room.
If I master second-tier magic, I should be able to crush Arlong.
Then Nami will not have to carry Cocoyashi Village's burden alone.
Since she was ten years old, she had borne that weight in silence. Forced into Arlong's crew, she never told the villagers the truth. She let their hatred burn against her while she alone carried the despair.
She was like a rainbow after the storm, pure and unbroken.
Ron could not bear to see her save up one hundred million Berries, only for Arlong to betray her, only for her eyes to drown in despair, waiting four long years for Luffy's arrival.
No.
He would be the one to save her.
And if it shattered the plot? If it tore apart the story he once knew?
To hell with the plot.
…
The next morning.
Ron stretched. His wounds had scabbed over, but dull pain still gnawed at his body, sharper than yesterday. He gritted his teeth.
He wanted to put points into Vitality, but he knew his path. Spirit was the road to power. Pain was nothing. He would endure.
He realized then that meditation could not erase true fatigue. Meditation recovered Spirit, but only sleep restored the soul itself. Sleep was absolute rest, a true reset.
So he had slept. And now he rose.
Two breakfasts were ready. He knocked on Nami's door.
To his surprise, she opened it at once, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She followed his gesture to the table and sat down.
Since Bellemere's death, it had been long since she had woken to a ready meal. Only at her sister Nojiko's house could she feel that warmth, but she rarely stayed there, not wanting to trouble her.
This time, she ate in silence. And when she finished, she did not return immediately to her room. Instead, for the first time, she spoke with Ron.
She asked about his past.
Ron faltered, then told her he had been aboard a merchant ship when pirates attacked. Everyone died. Only he had escaped by leaping into the sea.
Nami did not doubt him. The thought of pirates made her fists clench, her mind flashing to Bellemere's face.
Did she not hate Arlong?
Of course she did.
But hatred was powerless. Even a Marine Rear Admiral with a warship had been sunk by Arlong. Revenge was a dream too costly. Blind defiance would doom the entire village.
So she buried it. Buried her rage beneath a smile.
And yet, when Ron had said he would kill Arlong, a part of her had wavered. His voice had not been bluff or bravado. For a moment she almost believed.
But it was impossible. He was too weak. He could not even defeat her. Even if he were a noble from some faraway kingdom, he could never stand against Arlong. Even the Marines were helpless.
So she hardened herself once more.
She would save one hundred million Berries. She would buy the village back. That was her only hope.
She could not let herself think of what might happen if Arlong broke his word. That road led only to despair. She chose to believe in hope, even if it was fragile.
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