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Xebec stayed for three weeks.
For three weeks, the island was no longer a silent, isolated place; it was a home. It was loud, chaotic, and full. The days fell into a new, energetic rhythm. Mornings were for Aster's training, a brutal and exhilarating session with his father. Afternoons were for family, for Eris's quiet lessons, and for simply being together.
The training was unlike anything Aster had experienced. His "Inferno Slash" had proven his potential, but Xebec was a harsh realist.
"That cannon-shot is a parlor trick," he declared on the first day, standing on the beach, his arms crossed. "It's what you use to end a fight, not win one. You use that move twice, you're asleep on the ground, and your enemy cuts your throat. It's useless if you're not strong enough to survive long enough to use it."
His father's method was not about unlocking new, flashy powers. It was about sustainability.
"You've got the power, kid," Xebec growled, parrying a swing from Crimson Abyss with nothing but a piece of twisted driftwood. "What you lack is stamina. The style. You fight like a berserker, all in, all at once. You need to learn to breathe. To last. Your 'Soul Heat' is good, but you're using it like a bomb. It needs to be an engine. A low, steady thrum, not a full-blast explosion."
So, they fought. For hours, every single morning. Xebec, using only his driftwood and his overwhelming Haki, was an impossible, unmovable wall. He was a terrifying, relentless, and brilliant teacher.
"You're relying on the 'Soul Heat'!" he would bark, the driftwood thwacking against Aster's Haki-covered arms, sending him stumbling. "It's a crutch! Your muscles are burning, fine, but your form is sloppy! Haki first! Your body first! The fire is a tool, not the foundation!"
Aster, for the first time, learned to truly fight. He learned to weave, to parry, to use Crimson Abyss not just for one apocalyptic strike, but for a thousand small, precise, probing cuts. He learned to sustain his Soul Heat at a low, simmering burn, keeping his muscles warm and fast without incinerating his stamina. He learned to flow his Armament Haki from his hands, to his axe, and back to his body in a fluid, defensive-offensive wave.
His father pushed him, mercilessly, from sunup to sundown. And at the end of every session, Xebec would crouch, his wild eyes full of that fierce pride, and tend to Aster's bruises himself, his huge, scarred hands surprisingly gentle.
But during these weeks, Aster's hyper-aware Observation Haki, sharpened by his mother's "absence" drills, noticed something else.
His mother.
She was... different.
She got tired more easily. She, who was the very picture of fluid, powerful grace, seemed... slower. Sometime in the second week, he saw her stumble as she stepped off the porch, a thing he had never seen her do. She often rested her hand on her stomach, a new, protective, unconscious gesture. Her appetite had changed; she ate small, strange things at odd hours.
And her song... the one he heard with his Voice... it was different. It was still the same clear, strong, silver note, but now, there was a... a tiny, faint, echo inside it. A new, fragile, flickering spark of life that he didn't understand.
He found her in the garden one afternoon. Xebec was on the far side of the island, roaring at the ocean in what he called "Conqueror's endurance training" for the sea kings. Eris was alone, kneeling by the vegetables, but she wasn't weeding. She was just... still, her eyes closed, one hand on her stomach, a small, secret, private smile on her face.
"Mom," Aster asked, his voice quiet as he approached. "Are you sick? Your song is... echoing."
Eris's eyes snapped open. The smile vanished, replaced by a flash of pure, startled shock. She looked at him, her Haki flaring in surprise, her mind clearly racing. Then, slowly, she smiled again. It was the same secret smile.
She looked around, her gaze sweeping the treeline, ensuring his father was truly out of earshot. She pulled him close, her voice a low, urgent whisper that thrummed with a strange, new joy.
"No, little one. I'm not sick. But... you're right. I'm... different. And it has to be our secret."
"A secret? From Dad?" Aster was confused. They were a unit. They didn't have secrets.
"Especially from your father," she said, her grip on his shoulders tightening. Her eyes were serious, but shining. "You... you heard him, Aster. You heard what he told me on the beach. He has... his issues to solve. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders. This... this new echo..." her face softened. "This is a happy thing, Aster. The happiest thing. But it's... our little secret. For now."
"Why?"
"Because," she whispered, "if he knows... he won't go. He'll stay to protect us. And right now, the world is moving. He has to go. He has to do what he's planning. This... this would just... increase his pressure. It would chain him here, and he's not a man who can be chained, Aster. Not even by this."
Aster didn't fully understand the adult complexities, the 'pressure', or the 'plans.' But he understood the command. His mother was never wrong.
A-HA! I KNEW IT!
Flamey's voice suddenly roared in his head, the spirit clearly having listened in.
THAT'S WHY HER AURA IS ALL... HEY, I KNOW WHAT THAT IS! IT MEANS SHE'S--
No.
Aster's mental voice was a cold, sharp, and absolute stop.
Mom said no. It's a secret.
There was a long, baffled, mental silence.
...But... but... I'm not him! I'm not a person! I'm just your power! I can just tell--
You're not. But I am. And Mom said no. It's a secret.
Flamey let out a long, suffering, fiery groan.
...FINE! Your mother and her... her... rules. You are the most boring vessel in all of history. You're no fun at all.
Aster just nodded, his promise kept, and went back to his training.
The three weeks passed in a heartbeat. The morning of his father's departure was heavy and gray, the perfect, polished sea reflecting the mournful sky.
They stood on the beach. Xebec was in a new set of dark, simple clothes Eris had made for him, his iconic, tattered coat slung over his shoulder. He looked... refreshed. The dark, betrayed energy from his arrival had faded, replaced by the warm, solid, content presence of a man who was, for a short, precious time, home.
He held Eris for a long, long time. He said nothing, simply burying his face in her light, wavy hair, his eyes closed. Aster could feel the war in his aura, the pull of the world, the need for his grand, chaotic ambition, and the overwhelming pull of the small family he was about to leave.
"We'll be here, Xebec," Eris whispered, her voice strong, her own Haki a warm, silver blanket around them. "We'll be safe. You know my power. You know his. We are not defenseless."
"Vohahahaha..." his laugh was a low, rough, broken sound. "You are the two most terrifying people in this world. It's the world I worry about, not you."
"Go," she said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "Do what you have to do. Settle your ghosts. We'll be here when you're done. Just... come back in one piece, you hear me?"
"I always do," he replied.
He released her and crouched in front of Aster. He placed his massive, scarred hands on his son's small shoulders.
"You're strong, Aster," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "You're stronger at three than I was at ten. But the world... it's full of monsters. Monsters like me. And monsters like Herald. Don't stop. Ever. You protect your mother. You protect this island."
"I will," Aster said, his voice firm. He met his father's gaze.
"Good. That's my boy." Xebec ruffled his hair, a chaotic, affectionate gesture. "I don't know when I'll be back. The world is on a knife's edge. But I will be back. You wait for me."
He stood, gave Eris one last, hard, desperate kiss, and with a final, booming "Vohahaha!" that was meant to sound joyful but felt... heavy, he turned, dove into the water, and swam.
They watched until his trail, and the overwhelming, chaotic power of his presence, was gone. The island's silence, once peaceful, now felt empty.
That night, the cottage was too quiet. The bad quiet. The empty quiet. Aster sat at the table, pushing his food around his plate. His mother sat opposite him, her gaze distant, her aura a soft, gray blanket of sadness.
Finally, she spoke, her voice soft in the dim, lamp-lit room. "Aster."
He looked up.
"I told you I had a secret," she said, a small, tired, but very real smile touching her face. "A happy one. And now that... now that your father is gone, I can tell you."
She stood, walked over, and took his small, calloused hand. She placed it gently, flat, against her stomach. "You... you're going to have a little brother, Aster. Or a little sister."
Aster froze. His hand was flat against her. His Haki, his Voice, which had only felt a faint, flickering echo before, now... felt it. It was real. A tiny, warm, alive song, nestled right next to his mother's.
A brother. Or a sister.
His mind, which processed Haki principles and advanced battle-tactics with ease, struggled to grasp the concept.
A new... person? A... a small one? Like him?
"When?" he whispered, his golden eyes wide with a shock that eclipsed any Sea King or Devil Fruit.
"In about... seven or eight months," Eris said, her hand covering his. "It will be... just us. To welcome them."
Aster looked at his mother's hand. He looked at her stomach, where the new, tiny song was playing. He looked at her face, her beautiful, strong, tired face.
He understood.
His father was gone. The world was full of monsters. And his mother... she was alone. But she wasn't. She had him.
He slid off his chair, his expression set. He walked to the corner of the cottage and picked up a heavy basket of firewood. It was a load his mother usually brought in. He grunted, his small 'Soul Heat' thrumming to life to help with the weight, and carried it steadily to the hearth.
Eris watched, her eyes wide. "Aster...?"
He turned and looked at her, his face set in its old, serious, determined scowl. "You need to rest, Mom. I'll do it."
From that day, life changed. His training became a relentless, self-driven obsession. He was no longer just training for himself, or for his father's approval. He was training to protect. His Haki drills were no longer just lessons; they were a duty. His axe swings were no longer just practice; they were a promise.
But his first priority was his mother. He became her small, silent, unyielding shadow. He did every chore she would let him. He hauled the water from the well. He weeded the entire, sprawling garden himself, his small hands becoming calloused and tough. He stood guard on the beach, his new axe, Crimson Abyss, at his side, his Observation Haki a constant, vigilant sphere, while she took her now-frequent afternoon naps.
He was no longer just a warrior in training. He was a protector.
The months bled into one another. Seven. Eight. Aster was now almost four. He was bigger, stronger, his movements with the massive Supreme Grade axe no longer just practiced, but fluid, graceful, and deadly. He could sustain Soul Heat for nearly five minutes straight, and his Armament Haki could coat parts of his body in a visible, black sheen for a few, precious, powerful seconds.
He was on the beach, practicing his forms, the afternoon sun hot on his back. Eris was sitting on the cottage porch, her body now heavy and round, watching him. She smiled, a calm, maternal, waiting smile, and rested a hand on her swollen belly.
Suddenly, her eyes went wide. She let out a sharp, sudden gasp.
It wasn't a gasp of pain. It was one of pure, startled surprise. A second later, it was followed by a joyous laugh.
Aster's Haki felt the spike of emotion, and he was at her side in an instant, a blur of motion. He skidded to a halt on the porch, his axe in hand, his golden eyes scanning the sea for a threat. "What is it? A Sea King?"
"No, no..." Eris laughed, her eyes shining with tears. She grabbed his free hand, his small, tough, warrior's hand, and pressed it firmly against her stomach.
"Aster..." she breathed, her voice full of a sudden, new urgency and a bright, vibrant joy. "I think... I think your sibling is as impatient as your father."
He held his hand there, his eyes wide. And then... he felt it.
A sharp, distinct kick against his palm.
"It's time," his mother said, her smile bright and strong. "It's time."
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