The training grounds of Marineford always woke earlier than anywhere else.
At the break of dawn, when the sea breeze still carried the chill of morning dew, Ain was already standing in the familiar training zone.
She had changed into her light training clothes, her short dark-blue hair tied back with a headband, revealing a smooth forehead.
The bandages on her right arm had been mostly removed, leaving only a faint mark around her elbow, the last trace of the previous battle.
Gripping her sword, her fingers gently traced the familiar texture of the hilt. She took a deep breath and swung the first strike of the morning.
A few hours later, the arc of her sword cut through the air, but half a beat slower than usual.
Her muscles hadn't fully recovered; there was still a faint soreness in her right arm whenever she swung. She frowned slightly, stumbling a bit as she withdrew her blade.
"Still too hasty."
She muttered softly, wiping the thin layer of sweat from her brow.
The usually sharp and decisive Rear Admiral now looked more like a cautious student, every movement tentative and measured.
Just then, she heard faint, unhurried footsteps from the edge of the training field.
Ain didn't turn around, she knew that pace too well. Slow, like someone afraid to crush the dew beneath his feet; every step carrying a trace of reluctance. No one but Renzo walked like that.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure appear under the shade of a tree.
Renzo leaned against the trunk with his arms folded, clutching a weathered copy of Atlas of the Four Blues' Currents. He had clearly decided this would be his new napping spot.
He found a patch of sun-warmed grass, lazily spread out his thin blanket, and used the book as a pillow. Within moments, the sound of calm breathing filled the air.
Ain looked away and lifted her sword again.
At first, she didn't pay it any mind, but gradually, her movements began to change.
Her once ragged breathing grew steady, her control over her swings became precise, and even the dull ache in her right arm seemed to ease.
Now and then, soldiers jogged past the edge of the training field, their footsteps and chatter carried faintly by the sea breeze. Yet somehow, all the noise felt distant, muffled, as though sealed behind an invisible barrier.
Ain could hear only the whistle of her sword cutting the air, could feel the minute pull of muscle as her wrist turned. Thoughts of loss, of what she'd once failed to protect, quietly receded.
"Strange…" she murmured, lowering her sword, glancing toward the shade.
Renzo was still in the same position, a page of his book draped over his face. Only the rise and fall of his chest showed he was awake, or not fully asleep.
She suddenly remembered the cup of hot milk from the medical center, and the chocolate lava cake he'd once handed her at the pier. Somehow, this man always brought calm, in the laziest, most effortless way possible.
She didn't go over. Instead, she adjusted her breathing and raised her sword once more.
This time, her strikes flowed smoothly. Slash, parry, deflect, each motion firm and balanced, sunlight flashing rhythmically across the blade.
Eventually, her arm began to tire. She walked to the rest area to take a sip of water, but her gaze drifted again to the tree.
Renzo had rolled over at some point, the book slipping to the grass and revealing a faint frown, as if even in dreams, something was troubling him.
Ain hesitated, then took out a small red bean pastry from her pocket.
The mess hall auntie had given it to her that morning, saying it was good for recovery.
She walked over and gently placed it beside Renzo, then unscrewed her water bottle cap and set it near his hand, in case he woke up thirsty.
Just as she turned to leave, her clothes were tugged slightly.
Ain looked back. Renzo had half-opened his eyes, his voice hoarse with sleep: "Sweet?"
"Mm. Red bean filling," she said softly. "The mess hall lady gave it to me. If you don't like-"
"Like it," he interrupted, releasing her sleeve and fumbling for the pastry. He unwrapped it and took a bite.
The gentle sweetness of red bean spread across his tongue. He smiled faintly, eyes half-closed again. "Water…"
Ain handed him her bottle.
Renzo drank two swallows, gave it back, and within moments, his breathing evened out again, this time completely at peace, his brow smooth and untroubled.
Ain held the bottle, her fingers still warm where his had brushed.
Watching him sleep, she felt something inside her ease, a quiet corner of her heart softening.
When she trained before, Zephyr-sensei would always be there offering guidance, and the students would crowd around her discussing sword techniques, all noise and energy.
But now, this silent companionship felt… safer.
By afternoon, Ain hit a wall in training.
She couldn't properly block the strikes from the wooden sparring machine; her arm grew red from repeated hits.
After several failed attempts, frustration crept in. She kicked the ground lightly, sweat dripping from her forehead and soaking into her shirt.
"Don't rush."
The lazy voice came again.
Ain turned, Renzo was now sitting against the tree, eating another red bean pastry. Clearly, he'd helped himself to the rest she'd left him.
"The wooden dummy's too fast," she explained, sounding a little defeated.
Renzo didn't reply. He just glanced once toward the machine.
Ain didn't expect help, and prepared for another round, but when she lifted her sword, she realized the dummy's strikes had slowed slightly.
Not broken, just… gentler. Each swing perfectly spaced, giving her just enough time to see and respond.
She looked back in surprise. Renzo had already lain down again, showing her only the back of his head.
Ain took a steadying breath and resumed.
This time, she dodged every blow precisely, her parries crisp and clean. Even the ache in her arm seemed to fade.
By sunset, her training was done. She sheathed her sword and walked over, Renzo was still asleep, a crumb of red bean on his lips.
Ain chuckled softly, took out a tissue, and brushed it away.
Her fingers brushed his cheek, and Renzo stirred, opening his eyes. "Finished?"
"Yeah. I'm heading back," Ain replied with a nod.
Renzo sat up slowly, packing his blanket and book. He handed her the water bottle she'd left behind.
They walked back together toward the dorms in comfortable silence, only the sound of their steps and the whispering sea breeze between them.
At the fork in the path, Ain stopped. "Tomorrow… will you come again?"
Renzo paused, then realized she meant the training ground.
He thought for a moment, the morning shade had been nice, and Ain always brought sweets. He nodded. "Depends. If the mess hall still has strawberry mochi, I'll come."
Ain's eyes brightened, a soft smile curving her lips. "I'll go early and save you some."
Renzo grunted in acknowledgment and wandered off toward his dorm. Ain watched him until he disappeared around the corner.
The evening breeze brushed past, carrying the scent of grass and the faint sweetness of strawberries. She touched the remaining red bean cake in her pocket, her heart quietly warm.
For so long, sleepless nights had been filled with memories, fallen comrades, Zephyr-sensei's empty sleeve.
But ever since she'd started meeting Renzo here, those tangled thoughts had grown fewer.
He never pried, never comforted with words. He just… stayed. Quietly. And somehow, that was enough to keep the world's noise and grief at bay.
Ain looked down at her right hand, the one that had once trembled in fear of losing again. Now, it held her sword steady.
She knew healing would take time.
But with this quiet companionship, the path ahead didn't seem so hard anymore.
The next morning, Ain indeed went to the mess hall early and carefully packed freshly made strawberry mochi in a small box.
When she reached the training grounds, she saw him already there, lying under the same tree, clutching The Atlas of the Four Blue's Currents, fast asleep.
Ain placed the mochi beside him and whispered, "I'm starting training now," before turning toward the field.
The morning light fell on both of them, the swordswoman in motion, and the man napping beneath the tree.
The sea breeze drifted past, carrying the scent of grass and strawberries.
Everything was peaceful, perfectly so.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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