The uninhabited island was nothing short of a monster's paradise.
From the moment Kuzan set foot on its dense, humid soil, he realized this wasn't some tropical getaway — it was a survival zone straight out of a nightmare. The trees towered hundreds of meters high, vines coiled like serpents, and the distant roars of beasts echoed through the canopy.
Zephyr had dropped him off there without ceremony, leaving behind only a warship and a few words:
"Train until you're satisfied. Then come back."
Kuzan had muttered, "That could take a while…" but Zephyr was already gone.
Days blurred together. Kuzan trained until the sun dipped low and rose again. His fists split, his arms bruised, his Haki sharpened.
He'd stopped relying on his Devil Fruit — Zephyr's rule. "If you can't fight without it, then you don't deserve to wield it."
And so, when a massive serpent — easily five meters thick — slithered out of the forest, Kuzan didn't freeze it. He clenched his fists and smiled.
"Well… guess it's just you and me, buddy."
The snake's scales shimmered black — Armament Haki.
Before he could react, its tail whipped through the air like a battering ram and sent Kuzan flying through three trees.
"Ah… yeah, that stung."
The serpent hissed, sensing prey. Kuzan wiped the blood from his lip and stood again, grin curling on his face.
"Good. You'll do just fine for training."
The fight raged through the forest — a blur of crashing trees, snapping jaws, and fists slamming into scales. Every time Kuzan struck, the blow scattered uselessly across the serpent's slimy armor. Every time it hit him, he felt the impact in his bones.
By the time the beast slithered away, Kuzan was half buried in dirt and sweat-soaked.
He laughed weakly. "Alright… you win this round."
He lay there for a minute, catching his breath, then stood and trudged toward the smell of smoke — a herd of giant wild boars snorting nearby.
"Guess it's dinnertime."
The boars charged the moment they saw him, tusks like spears. Kuzan didn't move. He let the first one close in, coating his fist in Armament Haki, and punched.
The impact cracked like thunder. The beast's skull split, but the blow sent Kuzan tumbling backward into the mud.
"Ugh… not bad."
He exhaled, flickered with Soru, and reappeared above the herd, landing a sharp kick on another boar's spine. Bones cracked.
Dozens more came. He couldn't dodge them all — one slammed into his ribs, another clipped his leg. The forest floor erupted in dust and pain.
But Kuzan kept fighting, grinning through every hit.
It wasn't about winning. It was about feeling. The rhythm. The will.
Hours later, surrounded by silence and the smell of blood, Kuzan dropped to a knee. His arms shook from exhaustion, but the beasts were down — all of them.
He built a small fire and began roasting a slab of meat, shaping a blade of ice to slice it cleanly.
"Not bad, Kuzan," he muttered to himself, flipping the roast. "If you don't die out here, you might actually become an admiral one day."
The forest rustled behind him. Kuzan turned — the massive serpent had returned.
It didn't attack this time. Instead, it swallowed two boar carcasses whole, then slithered off again with two more dangling from its jaws.
Kuzan blinked. "…You've got some nerve, pal."
The serpent ignored him completely.
"Fine, whatever," Kuzan sighed, turning back to his food. "But if you eat my dinner again, I'm freezing your tail."
He flipped the meat — and realized it was burnt black.
"…Ah, damn it."
That night, Kuzan carved out a hollow in the trunk of a massive tree and sealed it with ice, leaving small vents to breathe. He lay inside his sleeping bag, listening to the forest shake and roar with life.
When beasts came too close, the tree would rumble — until a layer of frost spread across it and silence fell again.
Wrapped in that chill, Kuzan drifted into sleep.
Morning came, and with it, more battles. The island teemed with predators, each fiercer than the last. But with every bruise, Kuzan's body hardened. His instincts sharpened. His Haki grew more focused.
He began experimenting with Life Return — controlling his body's energy to recover faster. Pain turned to rhythm; exhaustion turned to fuel.
And somewhere along the way, that massive serpent started following him — not as an enemy, but as a companion of sorts.
When it stole his food, Kuzan scolded it. When it smacked him with its tail, he laughed.
He even gave it a name.
"Snowy," he said one evening, resting against its warm scales. "You've got a terrible personality."
The serpent flicked its tongue in response.
Kuzan smirked. "Yeah, yeah. I like you too."
---
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San