Chapter Eleven: Yearning

Devil Fruits.

If one were to choose the most distinctive and representative “local specialty” in this world, there is no doubt that it would be Devil Fruits. Some regard them as “power,” others as a “curse,” or perhaps they are both at once, but regardless, whether formidable or mysterious, Devil Fruits indeed grant a person extraordinary abilities. The price for such power is the inability to swim on a planet covered by oceans—one even more “watery” than Mercury, according to navigators. Given the environment, this risk is considerable; in a world where nearly all travel relies on ships, it is a grievous cost.

Ain is one of these “ability users.”

Several years ago, as she herself claims, she accidentally ate a fruit with a flavor described as “like durian boiled for three days with both peel and flesh, then deep-fried, steamed, mashed, mixed with raw lemon and green banana, further mashed, sprinkled with cumin, layered with fresh sweet sauce whose production date was ten years ago—a fruit with distinct, multi-layered flavors that linger endlessly.” Afterward, she acquired a power that did not belong to humankind.

This is perhaps the legendary “equivalent exchange”—one must eat a fruit that tastes like excrement to gain the ability to knock the excrement out of one’s enemies.

As for the Devil Fruit Ain consumed, its name should be called the “Regression Fruit,” and its power is to regress any object she directly touches backward by twelve years at a time.

With this ability, Ain can turn rocks back into magma, mature women into young girls, obese middle-aged men into chubby children, and so on. This manipulation of time is nearly a bug—one could say the unforgettable taste of the Devil Fruit, along with the loss of swimming forever, is compensated by the Regression Fruit’s value.

Regarding Ain’s claim of “accidentally,” while it sounds like a mistake, it was not so. Devil Fruits possess a strange allure for humans—their alluring colors and bizarre patterns compel people to succumb, unable to resist, ultimately consuming them.

Children, naturally, lack the will to resist the Devil Fruit’s attraction, and even with constant warnings against eating brightly colored things, they enjoy stuffing vibrant flora into their mouths.

From its name, one can deduce that Ain’s ability has considerable limitations; simply put, she can only regress time in twelve-year increments. This makes the power extremely dangerous—although regression can be applied and revoked, and objects regressed to their twelve-year-ago state will return to their original form when Ain lifts her power, nevertheless…

Those existences “erased” clearly cannot be restored.

Because “nonexistence” cannot be recovered; small can return to large, but nothing cannot return to something.

In his previous life, Qiubai had an impression of “Ain,” so when she suddenly gained her power, he immediately understood its essence, thus avoiding disastrous consequences from ignorance and loss of control.

Yet, nothing is absolute; accidents always happen… for example, this unfortunate robber who falsified his age.

He was not only dead, but utterly so—vanished without a trace from this world.

However, fundamentally speaking, Ain was not at fault here. If there was any error, it lay with the robber who committed the crime; Ain, at most, was guilty of excessive defense causing an accident… she never harbored murderous intent.

Still, this was something Ain had never experienced before. Though the two departed quickly, and Qiubai made a sincere and profound explanation, its effect was limited.

Having caused a death, she would likely remain in a state of gloom for quite some time.

But this was remorse for “taking a life,” not for the other’s “loss of life.” The robber, who targeted minors, even if not “deserving death,” certainly got his just deserts. Thus, neither intended to turn themselves in.

Objectively speaking, perhaps they even improved the town’s public safety.

...

Due to geographical factors, shipyards for building or repairing vessels are standard infrastructure on every island. For a relatively prosperous place like Baron Harbor, there is more than one shipyard, and Qiubai easily found such a place.

There was no shortage of ships on this island, but Qiubai’s problem was that he had no time to wait for a custom build. He lacked patience and needed a “ready-made” vessel.

Fortunately, there were ready-made ships. After some careful selection, Qiubai finally found a suitable one… to avoid buying a leaky boat, he was most diligent.

“This one, please. But I need a few modifications. Would you kindly remove the secondary mast and the jib, leaving only the main mast and aft sail?”

Qiubai did not insist on a new ship. He chose a nearly new, one-year-old second-hand twin-masted vessel, well-maintained and in excellent condition.

The price was also right… thus, Qiubai fulfilled his promise: the ship’s keel measured fifteen meters, no longer a “small” boat.

Of course, it couldn’t be called a large ship either. The only issue was its rather ordinary materials, likely with average resistance to sinking, but you get what you pay for—Qiubai couldn’t expect Adam’s Treasure Tree.

His request puzzled the shipyard manager:

“Only one main sail? Sir, forgive my bluntness, but that will impact the ship’s speed and maneuverability.”

The manager explained kindly.

Qiubai understood this, but insisted, “Five hundred thousand Berries, and I hope you can finish the modifications by tomorrow.”

He knew the advantage of more sails, but the problem was they were only two people: one to steer, one to handle the sails. There was no extra manpower for a second sail.

After handing the money to the manager, the latter could only comply with Qiubai’s requirements—perhaps this customer simply disliked fast ships.

Indeed, drunk sailing and racing boats are both inadvisable.

Most of the money they’d just acquired was spent, but Qiubai didn’t mind; after all, exchanging a single sword for a nearly new ship was a good deal.

After instructing a few other matters, the two left the shipyard.

“My third ship, I shall name it ‘Caesar’… what do you think?” Qiubai turned to Ain behind him.

He was clearly unaffected by the robber incident, already naming his new vessel.

…A note here: Qiubai’s first ship, the one that capsized, was called “King Kong.” The second “ship,” the life-saving plank salvaged from King Kong’s wreck, he dubbed “Sora.” Now, with Caesar, one sees his naming pattern.

King Kong, Caesar, Sora—these names come from three famed mountain gorillas, each representing the highest human virtues:

Courage, Wisdom… and Integrity.

“All right, Captain.” Surprisingly, Ain did not retort… though she rarely objected to such trivial matters, this time she was especially listless.

Clearly, she was not as carefree as Qiubai.

“Don’t call me Captain, call me Commander.” A two-person crew, with a commander—who would command whom?

Fortunately, Ain ignored him.

With the ship under renovation and docked at the shipyard, the two prepared for their voyage, buying many supplies, including but not limited to food and fresh water.

By the time their errands were done and they returned to Ryoma’s old house, the day was already over.

Evening had fallen.

Qiubai, carrying the sword case, entered the house with Ain, then they went their separate ways.

Qiubai walked to the innermost room, where a sword stand rested on the table, and upon it lay a blade… the black sword “Autumn Water.”

Qiubai placed the sword case on the table, opened it, then carefully placed Autumn Water inside—the black sword was heavy, and his movements were cautious.

When he emerged carrying the case again, Ain was already waiting at the door.

The two left the house, walked several kilometers further inland from the coast, reaching a gentle mountain slope covered with sparse broadleaf trees and dense shrubs of unknown species.

That was unimportant; what mattered was that a stone slab grave had already been prepared in the woods.

Arriving at the grave, Qiubai jumped in, placed the sword case properly, then reached up to receive the urn Ain handed him.

He set the urn in the center of the grave, knelt down, and placed his right hand upon it.

“Ryoma… teacher,” the last two words were spoken for the first time, leaving Qiubai unaccustomed.

“Thank you, very much.”

To impart knowledge is no simple thing, so Qiubai’s gratitude was heartfelt.

If this were a tale of sword masters, Ryoma might require a grand portrayal, but unfortunately… it is not.

Thanks to what Ryoma taught him a month ago, Qiubai’s swordsmanship had advanced rapidly. That is not to say he became powerful overnight, but he had finally found the right path; all that remained was to keep walking it.

Ryoma, the sword master, in his final days, played the role of “guide” for Qiubai—indeed, the most suitable guide. Perhaps Qiubai had been mistaken before; in this life, a single teacher was enough.

“Though Wano seems not to practice cremation, believe me, burning you to ashes is truly for your own good,” Qiubai whispered.

Though it sounded dubious, even mischievous, cremating Ryoma was done in good faith—to prevent the vile scenario where a sword master is resurrected after death.

Should a tale of master and disciple tragedy unfold… it would become an entirely different story.

“Then… rest in eternal peace.”

Qiubai’s hand left the cold urn, and he climbed out of the grave.

The two began to cover it with earth.

A sword master like Ryoma lived a grand life, but faded away in obscurity, which evokes a sense of melancholy.

For Qiubai, the reasons were many, but the most important was that Ryoma was a great sword master, but not the greatest in the world.

Witnessing the end of the sword master’s life, Qiubai’s only sentiment was a firmer resolve: having come here, he must shake this world to its foundations.

“Calmness” is a word forever out of his reach.

Thus, it was for this reason that he sailed out into the sea on a tiny boat without any guarantee of safety… much like many famed pirates.

For they, too, are “impatient” with this world.

The grave became a mound of earth—the final resting place of a man.

“By the way,” Qiubai, about to leave, suddenly turned as if remembering something.

Before him was a gravestone, bearing only the name of its owner: Ryoma.

“Afraid of being accused of being shallow, I seem never to have mentioned my real name. ‘Qiubai’ is merely part of it; my full name is…”

“Shichimiya Aut Haku… From here, my journey will continue.”

Qiubai felt gratitude toward Ryoma, but none toward this place. The next day at noon, “Caesar” set sail…

Toward the unknown, distant sea.