One Piece: The Dharma of the Sea

The sound of the ocean's waves crashing against the shores of Marineford served as a steady rhythm, a reminder of the vast, unpredictable world beyond the fortress's walls. In a quieter corner of the training grounds, Sengoku stood waiting, his imposing frame casting a long shadow across the sparring field.

Tenzin approached with steady, measured steps, his kasaya flowing gently in the breeze. His head was freshly shaven, and his prayer beads clinked softly as he walked. He clasped his hands together and bowed respectfully to his father.

"Amitabha. You called for me, Father?"

Sengoku nodded, his arms folded across his chest. "I did. It's time we started your training in earnest."

Tenzin tilted his head slightly, curious but calm.

"Haki isn't just about potential, Tenzin," Sengoku began. "It's a skill that grows with use, like any other technique. The more you push it, the sharper and more advanced it becomes. But there's only one real way to accelerate that growth—battle."

"Battle," Tenzin repeated, his tone neutral.

"Experience is the fastest teacher," Sengoku said. "Each fight forces you to reach deeper into your reserves of willpower and instinct. Haki thrives on that challenge."

Tenzin considered this, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "Then we will spar?"

Sengoku smirked faintly. "We will. But I'm adding a condition. You're to keep your eyes closed for the entirety of the session. Observation Haki isn't just about sensing your surroundings; it's about trusting that sense completely. Relying on your sight will only hold you back."

Tenzin nodded without hesitation. "Understood. I'll do it."

As he spoke, a spark of determination lit in his mind. If training his Observation Haki was his goal, then why limit it to the sparring sessions? He would take this exercise further.

"I'll keep my eyes closed beyond the training grounds," he added, surprising Sengoku. "All day, every day. Observation will be my vision."

Sengoku raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. "That's... ambitious."

Tenzin smiled faintly, clasping his hands together again. "If I am to master this power, I must be fully committed."

The sparring match began without further preamble. Tenzin stood still, his eyes shut, as Sengoku circled him. The boy's focus was razor-sharp, his breathing steady. His father's movements were like ripples in a pond, faint impressions in the flow of the world around him.

"Let's see how much you've learned," Sengoku said, his tone calm but firm. He darted forward, his speed impressive for a man of his size and age.

Tenzin's head turned slightly, sensing the incoming strike. He shifted to the side, narrowly dodging the open palm aimed at his shoulder.

"Good," Sengoku said, immediately following up with a low sweep aimed at Tenzin's legs.

This time, Tenzin jumped, avoiding the attack with an almost preternatural grace. But as he landed, Sengoku was already there, pressing the advantage. A palm strike to the chest connected, sending Tenzin stumbling back several feet.

Tenzin grunted but steadied himself quickly. He clasped his hands together, his breathing deep and controlled. "Your movements are... precise. Controlled. I cannot keep up."

"Of course you can't," Sengoku replied bluntly, standing tall. "You're six years old. Your body isn't ready to match mine, and it won't be for years. But that doesn't mean this training is meaningless. Observation Haki isn't about physical strength."

Tenzin nodded, adjusting his stance. "Then I must try again."

The sparring continued, with Tenzin evading as best he could while Sengoku pushed him relentlessly. The boy's awareness was remarkable, but there was no denying the gulf between them. Each time he managed to dodge a blow, Sengoku followed up faster, forcing him to react on instinct alone.

By the time they paused for a break, Tenzin was sweating and breathing heavily, though his composure remained intact. Sengoku, by contrast, seemed as calm as when they had started.

"The gap between us is vast," Tenzin said, breaking the silence.

"It is," Sengoku agreed, sitting down on a nearby bench. "And it's not just because of your age. Experience, strength, strategy—these things take years to develop. Decades, even."

Tenzin sat cross-legged on the ground, his beads clicking softly as he adjusted his posture. "I've heard whispers of your Devil Fruit ability. The Buddha. Does it not go against the natural order?"

Sengoku raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question. "You mean because of your beliefs?"

Tenzin nodded. "Amitabha. To manipulate one's form in such a way... it seems unnatural."

Sengoku considered this for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps it is. Devil Fruits are mysterious things. Their origins are unknown, their powers often defy logic. But in this world, power is necessary. Without it, you can't protect what matters."

Tenzin tilted his head slightly, his expression contemplative. "Power... does it not corrupt?"

"It can," Sengoku admitted. "But it doesn't have to. It depends on the person wielding it."

The boy fell silent, turning his thoughts inward. The idea of wielding such power clashed with his monk's principles, yet the world he lived in demanded strength. It was a conflict he would have to reconcile in time.

As they prepared to resume their sparring, Sengoku stood and dusted off his uniform. "We'll continue to train your Observation Haki. Your progress is remarkable, but there's still a long way to go."

"Will you also teach me the other forms of Haki?" Tenzin asked, rising to his feet.

Sengoku smiled faintly. "In time. For now, let's focus on honing your senses. Remember, Tenzin—power isn't an end in itself. It's a means to an end. Never lose sight of your principles."

Tenzin clasped his hands together and bowed deeply. "Amitabha. I will not stray from my path."

The next day, the training grounds buzzed with activity as cadets practiced their drills. Tenzin stood in the center of a small circle, facing off against two young cadets a few years older than him. His hands were clasped in front of him, his eyes shut as if in prayer.

Hideki leaned against a post nearby, watching with curiosity. "He's doing it again," he said to no one in particular.

Another cadet beside him chuckled. "Of course he is. Tenzin always wins. The real surprise is that he's doing it with his eyes closed this time."

In the circle, one of Tenzin's opponents lunged, aiming a punch at his midsection. Tenzin sidestepped gracefully, his movements smooth and deliberate. He pivoted and delivered a light palm strike to the boy's shoulder, sending him stumbling back without injury.

The second opponent took his chance, sweeping low in an attempt to trip Tenzin. Without hesitation, Tenzin jumped, flipping neatly over the attack and landing softly. Before his opponent could recover, Tenzin tapped his side with an open palm, ending the match.

The small crowd of cadets erupted into murmurs of astonishment.

"How does he do it?" one whispered.

"It's like he knows what we're going to do before we do it," another said.

Hideki grinned, folding his arms. "It's not luck, that's for sure. He's been like this since I met him."

Tenzin opened his eyes briefly and bowed to his sparring partners. "Amitabha. Thank you for the match. Your efforts will bear fruit with time and patience."

The defeated cadets nodded respectfully, though their expressions were a mix of frustration and awe.