Chapter 3

The sea was vast, and Kurumi Tokisaki-or rather, the girl wearing her skin-was impatient.

Sitting in a tavern in Loguetown, the "Town of the Beginning and the End," she stared at a recruiting poster tacked to the wall. Join the Marines. Justice needs you.

She took a sip of water, her mismatched eyes narrowing. Her fight with the Alvida pirates had been a wake-up call. Yes, she had the knowledge of a thousand masters. Her mind knew the perfect angle for a sword strike and the exact torque needed for a roundhouse kick. But her body? It was soft. It lagged behind her brain by milliseconds-a fatal delay in the Grand Line.

Furthermore, she had a bigger problem: Information.

"The Devil Fruit encyclopedia," she murmured, tracing the rim of her glass. "The Marines have the most comprehensive records of Devil Fruits in the world. If I want to find my fruit-the Time-Time Fruit, Model: Zafkiel-I need to know where the World Government last saw it."

Going solo as a bounty hunter would take too long. She needed a hyperbolic time chamber. She needed the Marines' resources, their weights, their instructors, and their food.

She stood up, smoothing down her gothic dress. "Time to enlist."

Marine Base, Loguetown Branch

The recruitment officer, a burly Lieutenant with a scar running down his neck, looked up from his paperwork and blinked.

Standing before his desk was a girl who looked like she belonged in a porcelain doll shop, not a boot camp. She wore a complex red and black dress with frills, her hair in long twin tails.

"Name?" the Lieutenant grunted, suppressing a laugh.

"Kurumi," she said, her voice a polite, melodic chime.

"Listen, miss," the Lieutenant sighed, tossing his pen down. "The Marines aren't a social club. We deal with pirates who would snap those pretty wrists of yours like twigs. Go home."

Kurumi smiled. It was the smile of a predator watching a rabbit. "I am aware. That is why I am here. I wish to kill them."

The room went quiet. The other recruits-muscular men with tattoos and scars-snickered.

"I have a proposition," Kurumi said, stepping forward. "Pit me against your best instructor. If I land a single hit, you enroll me. If I win, you fast-track me to the elite training corps."

The Lieutenant scoffed. "You want to fight Master Sergeant Ripper? He's a swordsman."

"I insist."

The Training Grounds

Five minutes later, a crowd had gathered. Master Sergeant Ripper, a man twice Kurumi's height holding a wooden bokken (training sword), looked annoyed.

"I won't hit a little girl," Ripper grumbled.

"Please, don't hold back," Kurumi said. She picked up two short wooden batons, mimicking her dual flintlock style, though she held them like daggers. "I would hate for you to be embarrassed."

Ripper's eyes flashed. "Fine."

He lunged. It was a standard vertical cleave-fast, powerful, designed to crush a novice.

Kurumi didn't blink. In her mind, the encyclopedia of combat flared to life.

Analysis: Opponent is overcommitting. Right side exposed. Center of gravity shifted too far forward.

She didn't block. She didn't have the strength to block a man of his size. Instead, she flowed like water. She stepped into his guard, the wooden sword whistling past her ear, displacing a lock of her black hair.

Using the momentum of her entry, she hooked her leg behind his knee-Judo Trip: Osoto Gari-and simultaneously drove the tip of her wooden baton into the soft spot under his armpit.

It wasn't a knockout blow-her body lacked the power-but it was agonizing.

"Argh!" Ripper stumbled, his arm going numb.

He spun around, angry now, swinging wild, horizontal slashes.

Kurumi danced. That was the only word for it. She was applying the footwork of Bagua Zhang, moving in circles, constantly staying in his blind spot. She was breathing hard, sweat beading on her forehead-her stamina was still pathetic-but her technique was flawless.

Left. Duck. Spin. Strike the wrist. Strike the neck.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Every time Ripper swung, he hit air. Every time he recovered, he felt a sharp rap of wood against his joints.

Finally, Ripper roared and thrust the sword like a spear. Kurumi saw it coming. She dropped to the ground in a split, the sword passing over her head, and kicked upward with both feet, landing a clean hit on his chin.

Ripper stumbled back, dazed, dropping his weapon.

Kurumi stood up, dusting off her dress. She was panting heavily, her legs trembling from the exertion. She hadn't defeated him with power; she had dismantled him with pure skill.

"The body is weak," she admitted to the stunned Lieutenant, holding out her trembling hands. "But the mind is ready. Give me the weights. Give me the diet. Give me the discipline. I will be your strongest weapon within a year."

The Lieutenant stared at the small girl who had just humiliated his instructor. He saw the fire in her mismatched eyes. It wasn't the look of a recruit. It was the look of a conqueror.

"Get her a uniform," the Lieutenant ordered, his voice gruff. "And get her double rations. We're sending her to Headquarters."

Kurumi bowed theatrically, lifting the hem of her skirt. "You won't regret it."

Step one complete, she thought, a dark grin hidden from view. The Navy will build the body that will wield the power of Time. And when I am strong enough… I will take what is mine.