One Piece: Fishing System

What truly thrilled Trace wasn't how much [Beast Breathing] enhanced his training with Tekkai.

After all—

Who actually uses Tekkai in real combat?

Not Trace!

He'd rather die!

Jump overboard? Sure!

But tank an enemy's attack head-on with Tekkai?

Never!

Truth be told, Trace didn't care much for Tekkai itself.

What he did care about…

Was the Armament Haki it symbolized!

That was the real prize.

As his teacher Kaido once said:

"Haki… is the power that transcends everything."

And Trace agreed with that wholeheartedly.

Even if…

He hadn't even unlocked his Haki attributes yet.

After running a few tests on Tekkai in his cabin—practicing the small tips Instructor Shuzo had mentioned—Trace finally paused his training.

He stood in the middle of the room, steadied his breath, then shouted:

"Tekkai!"

A huge gulp of air rushed into his lungs.

His blood flow surged like a torrent, veins bulging under his skin.

Muscles tightened, flushed red.

A thick mist of heat and sweat steamed off his body.

Thanks to the foundation built by [Beast Breathing], it took him less than half an hour to reach the threshold of Tekkai!

He hadn't mastered it yet—but it was a solid start.

Unfortunately, the [Iron Body] state lasted only a few seconds before he had to release it.

His entire body was flushed red, like a freshly boiled shrimp.

"Huff… huff…"

Bent over, hands on knees, Trace struggled to catch his breath.

Tekkai was still too much for him physically.

Partly because his [Endurance] was only D-rank—barely enough for entry-level practice.

And partly because maintaining Tekkai required full use of [Beast Breathing], which drained him rapidly.

In short?

More body training needed.

After several minutes of recovery, Trace finally stabilized his breathing.

He decided to stop his Tekkai practice for the day and seek out professional instruction tomorrow.

A quick glance at the time—still not noon.

He recalled his original schedule for today and decided to leave his room.

Just as he stepped outside, his feet turned on impulse.

He headed toward the infirmary.

He'd nearly forgotten about checking in on his… well, "defeated opponent."

---

Marine Battleship – Infirmary

Smoker lay on the medical bed, groggy and vacant-eyed, staring blankly at the white ceiling.

The crimson imprint of a fist still glowed faintly on his cheek, and his expression looked utterly wrecked—like someone whose soul had left their body.

Trace hadn't done much physical damage.

But psychologically?

The hit was devastating.

Especially after Instructor Shuzo had just come by to deliver Zephyr's punishment orders…

Smoker's mood was in the dumps.

Why did I lose?

How did I get knocked out like that?

Why, as the loser, do I also get slapped with extra punishment duty?!

He just couldn't understand it.

Sure, he could accept losing to a "man who once faced Kaido."

But not like this!

Getting dropped by a punch?

Wasn't his Plume-Plume Fruit supposed to be Logia-type?

Or had he misunderstood all along, and it was secretly a Paramecia?

Smoker began questioning his entire existence.

Hina sat beside the bed, quietly trying to comfort him—hoping to lift the spirits of her old academy friend.

But no matter what she said, Smoker remained completely silent.

That's when Trace entered the room.

Hina leapt up immediately, eyes bright.

"Trace, you're here! Hurry and check on Smoker—I think you punched the brain right out of him!"

Trace froze mid-step.

And Smoker, who had just tried to sit up, nearly fell off the bed.

"Hina! I'm fine!"

Smoker said seriously, though the big red fist mark on his face made him look unintentionally ridiculous.

Trace, trained to maintain composure, didn't laugh.

Hina, on the other hand, had to duck her head, shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles.

Smoker: "…"

Ignoring the mood-ruining Hina, Smoker turned to Trace, eyes sharp.

"Let's fight again!"

"Ahem!"

Trace coughed to hide the chuckle threatening to escape.

This… is perfect!

Another volunteer D-rank punching bag?

Sign him up!

"I've got no objections," Trace said with a straight face. "But… Smoker, are you sure you're ready?"

Smoker frowned. "I've prepared everything! I won't be careless like today again!"

But I'm not ready!

If we fight again now, I might actually lose!

Trace kept those thoughts to himself.

He had no intention of rejecting the rematch—but not yet.

He was about to enter the training camp officially.

Armed with [Primal Body] and newly equipped with Tekkai, he was headed for a growth spurt.

Best to play it safe first—then smack Smoker down.

Er, no—then accept Smoker's honorable challenge.

"Before today's battle, you probably thought the same thing," Trace said solemnly.

"That you were fully prepared.

That you wouldn't underestimate your opponent just because you ate a Logia fruit.

That you'd stay sharp the whole time…"

Smoker was left speechless by the barrage of words.

Hina, off to the side, was practically glowing.

A man who speaks with conviction… is just too cool!

Trace, unaware of Hina's sparkling gaze, continued in a sincere tone:

"Reflect carefully on everything that happened today.

When you're truly ready, challenge me again."

Smoker opened his mouth, as if wanting to speak.

"I'll be officially joining the training camp tomorrow," Trace cut in.

"One week from now—during the weekly combat assessment—if you don't challenge me… I'll come for you."

Smoker nodded seriously, etching the date into his mind.

One week.

Trace silently marked it too.

How much stronger will I be by then…?

---

Leaving the infirmary, Trace headed to his originally planned destination: the battleship's firearms training room.

Guns weren't exactly prized in the One Piece world.

Trace knew this well.

In a sea full of monsters, ordinary firearms just weren't threatening enough.

Only true masters of Haki could make guns deadly.

Use Observation Haki to lock on.

Use Armament Haki to enhance the shot.

At that point, the gun was just a delivery system.

The real power came from the Haki.

Once again—

Haki is the force that transcends all.

Still, Trace had his reasons for visiting the shooting range today.

Sure, some of it was just a man's instinctual fascination with guns and explosions.

But more than that—he believed firearms still had value, especially early on.

At the very least, he didn't want to be completely ignorant of how guns worked.

With that in mind, Trace stepped into the shooting range.

Because of how underwhelming guns were in this world, low-ranking marines still trained with them, but elite trainees rarely bothered.

The range was fully equipped with a wide array of guns and tools—but it was practically deserted.

Trace didn't mind. He wasn't here to grind stats.

He just wanted to have fun shooting.

And if I happen to unlock a [Marksmanship] skill while I'm at it…

All the better.