Beneath The Crimson Tides

Disclaimer:

"One Piece" and all related characters, settings, and concepts are the intellectual property of Eiichiro Oda, Shueisha, Toei Animation, and any other entities associated with the creation and distribution of the original manga and anime series. No copyright infringement is intended.
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The first rays of sunlight filter through the coral-patterned curtains of my room, painting everything in a soft, aquamarine glow. I'm already awake, my adult mind restless in this toddler's body. It's been this way since I opened my eyes in this new world over two years ago.

I sit up in bed, stretching my wings as I rise and walk towards my closet. As I dress, fitting my wings through the holes in the back of my specially made shirt, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. In the past two years, I've grown in many ways, the most visible being physical.

My wings have expanded to an impressive size, enough for short bursts of flight. The furry tail matching my checkered hair has grown as well. Initially, controlling these new appendages was challenging, but I've since become accustomed to them. I've also grown taller, though still extremely short at around 2 to 2.5 feet. My shoulder-length hair, which I usually keep slicked back, has grown too. While my facial markings remain unchanged, my horns have lengthened considerably, now adorned with white sea-like or cloud-like designs and tipped in black.

It's still jarring sometimes, seeing this unfamiliar and strange face instead of the one I wore in my past life. But this is who I am now - Lucian Lux Astra - and I've accepted that.

Finishing dressing, I leave my room and head down the hallway towards the kitchen. The house is quiet, but I can smell breakfast being prepared - a mix of land and sea cuisine that has become the norm in our household.

"Lucian? Are you up, sweetie?" My mother's voice carries from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mama," I call back, injecting just the right amount of childish enthusiasm into my voice. It's a constant performance, but one I've mastered.

As I enter the kitchen, I see both my parents. My Fishman mother is at the stove, while my father's large, muscular, furry frame dwarfs the table and seat where he sits, focused on the newspaper spread before him. His brow is furrowed as he reads, no doubt poring over the latest news following Roger's execution - information about the upsurge of pirates and probably some powerful rising rookies.

"Good morning, Luci," my father says, looking up from his paper with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

I toddle over to him, playing the part of the affectionate child while my mind races with possibilities. "Morning, Papa. What's for breakfast?"

As my mother sets a plate of cooked sea king meat and eggs with forest fruits before me, I sense a shift in the atmosphere. My parents exchange a look, one I've come to recognize over the past few days. They've made a decision about something.

"Lucian," my mother begins, her voice gentle but firm. "After breakfast, your father and I want to show you something in the dojo."

I nod, careful to keep my expression curious rather than knowing. As I start to eat, thoughts race through my mind. Although they don't think I do, I've heard their hushed whispers when they thought I was asleep, debating whether to start teaching me now, even while I'm so young. Obviously, worry about the increasing danger in the world after that bastard Roger started the Great Pirate Era with his death has gotten to them. This, coupled with my unusual maturity for a child, has led them to decide whether to start teaching me martial arts. It seems they've finally come to a decision.

To say the least, I'm eager about it. Despite having gained good control over this new body of mine over the past two years and learned to walk, I haven't started relearning boxing yet, even secretly. I didn't want to have to stay on my toes trying to keep it hidden from my parents, and I wanted to focus on whatever they would teach me without diluting it with whatever muscle memory I might have regained if I had started relearning boxing. Besides that, I'm very eager for my martial training to begin soon, as it represents my first step towards reaching the heights Roger has.

And although I hadn't started any physical training besides keeping my body limber, my control over my unique abilities had grown. The first and easiest to manage were my retractable and sharp black claws, which had also lengthened over the past two years. It wasn't easy, but with ample time and nothing else to do, I gained control over them, preventing accidental extensions and even mastering the ability to unleash a single claw if I wanted to. Besides that, I had developed decent control over my Electro and water-manipulating abilities.

What once felt like an alien power now came as naturally as breathing, likely due to my Mink heritage from Dad. I could now generate a steady current at will, strong enough to light up small objects or deliver a sharp shock. It was a far cry from the devastating attacks I'd seen the old man use, but it was progress.

Manipulating water remained the trickiest of my inherited abilities. While I could now do more than just make ripples in my bath water, controlling larger bodies of water still felt like trying to herd cats. I could create small whirlpools and manipulate the flow of water to a limited extent, but anything beyond that remained frustratingly out of reach, for now.

As we finished our breakfast, I followed my parents through our house. My wings twitched with anticipation, and I had to consciously control my tail to keep it from swishing excitedly. We walked down a hallway adorned with paintings of underwater scenes and mountain landscapes.

We stopped at a sliding door decorated with an intricate carving of waves and clouds intertwining. My father slid it open, revealing our family dojo. The room was spacious, with the middle have Tatami mats they're called if i recalled in the center of the room with the outer ring being polished wooden floors and large windows that let in plenty of natural light. One wall was lined with training equipment, while another displayed various scrolls with martial arts teachings.

My mother knelt down beside me, holding out a small white gi. "This is for you, Lucian," she said softly. "It's time for you to start your training."

I took the gi, feeling the crisp fabric between my fingers. A white belt accompanied it, symbolizing the beginning of my journey. "Thank you, Mama," I said,a mix of genuine excitement but also nervousness in my voice.

After changing into the gi, I stood before my parents in the center of the dojo. They looked at me with a mixture of pride and determination.

"We'll start with the basics," my father said, his deep voice resonating through the room. "First, the horse stance. It's the foundation of strength and stability."

He demonstrated lowering himself in a wide stance as if sitting on a imaginary chair, and I mimicked him as best as i could sinking my weight down though my form was a little awkward at first my mother helped me adjust any kinks in it. My thighs began to burn almost immediately, but I held the position and held on as long as i could until finally i couldnt hold on any longer and dropped to the floor.

"Good," my mother nodded. "Now, let's work on some stretches."

We moved through a series of stretches, focusing on flexibility and preventing injury. This unlike the horse stance was something i was familiar as even though boxing and karate were vastly different in many ways keeping your body limber was a universal thing.

Next came the breathing exercises that werent that exciting but nonetheless good breath control is important and goes a long way even though it seemed like a minor thing.

My father then led me outside to our backyard. "Now for some endurance and strength training," he said with a grin that made me slightly nervous. We did push-ups, sit-ups, and laps around the yard. It was adjusted for my decidedly young age though i still struggled and was left on the ground dead tired at the end. 

Returning to the dojo, I wiped the sweat from my brow and tried to catch my breath. The intense training had left me both exhilarated and exhausted. My mother motioned for me to follow her to a quiet corner of the dojo.

The wooden floor was cool beneath my feet as we settled into the designated meditation area, a space marked by soft, woven mats and a gentle, calming ambiance. She took a seat on a cushion in the lotus position, her posture perfectly aligned, her eyes closed in deep focus. I mirrored her movements, crossing my legs and attempting to align my body as she had.

"A clear mind is as important as a strong body," my mother said softly, her voice steady and reassuring. She placed her hands on her knees, palms facing upward, and took a slow, deep breath. The rise and fall of her chest were almost hypnotic, a rhythmic reminder of the peace we sought to achieve.

"Close your eyes," she instructed gently, "and begin by focusing on your breath. Feel the air entering and leaving your body. Let each breath center you, and with each exhale, release the tension of the day."

I followed her instructions, inhaling deeply through my nose and feeling the cool air expand my lungs. As I exhaled, I imagined the stress and fatigue of our training drifting away like leaves on a breeze. My body slowly relaxed, sinking into the mat, the exhaustion fading with each breath.

"Now, imagine a tranquil lake," she continued, her voice a soft, flowing stream. "The surface is perfectly still, reflecting the sky above. Let your mind be like that lake, calm and clear. Let go of any turbulent thoughts and allow yourself to simply be in this moment."

Her words painted vivid images in my mind. I pictured the serene lake she described, the water's surface unblemished and peaceful. I visualized my thoughts as ripples that faded into stillness, allowing the calm to envelop me completely.

"Remember," my mother said, "meditation is not about emptying your mind completely, but about finding balance and clarity within it. It's a practice of patience and presence."

As we continued in this tranquil state, the dojo's surroundings seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle cadence of our breathing and the subtle harmony of our shared practice.

I am unsure how long I was in this deep meditative state, but it somehow felt both short and long at the same time. Finally, I felt a gentle tap on my forehead. I opened my eyes to find my mother standing over me, a soft smile on her face.

"Luci, it's time to wake up," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody that pulled me from my thoughts.

I blinked, slowly coming back to the present. As I stretched, I felt the remnants of my meditation settle into my muscles, a sense of calm and focus lingering. My mother's presence was comforting, grounding me after the introspective journey I had just experienced.

The afternoon sun shone through the window, casting a warm glow across the dojo. My mother glanced at the clock and then at me with a hint of excitement in her eyes. "It's time for your next lesson," she said, her tone carrying a blend of anticipation and encouragement.

We moved to the center of the dojo, where the tatami mats created a perfect practice area. The space was cleared, with just enough room for us to move freely. My mother gestured to the center, where she had set up a small area for practice, including a few dummies to illustrate some techniques.

"Today, we'll start with the basics of Fishman Karate," she began, her voice calm but firm. "This style is rooted in fluidity and strength, drawing on the natural abilities of Fishmen. It's important to master learn foundational techniques before progressing to the more advanced skills."

She demonstrated a basic stance, one I had seen Jinbe take many times: one hand cocked back into a fist near her hip, while the other was outstretched forward, facing the opponent. Her center of gravity was slightly lowered, reminiscent of the horse stance I had practiced earlier, with one foot positioned slightly forward and the other foot behind. The usual gentle smile i usually saw on her face was replaced by a determined and serious one matching her disposition as a serious Fishman Karate Practicioner.

She took deep breaths in and out as she moved through the forms and foundational techniques of Fishman Karate. Her movements were smooth and controlled, featuring simple yet powerful punches and kicks interspersed throughout.

"Fishman Karate involves harnessing and channeling water around your body or from the sea. You use that fluidity to enhance your strikes and movements," she explained.

I watched intently, trying to absorb the essence of her movements. After finishing, she let out a deep sigh and turned to me with an encouraging smile. "Now it's your turn. Start with this stance and try to mirror the movements as closely as possible."

I took a deep breath and assumed the stance, concentrating on mimicking her form. As I began going through the motions and learning the stances, she offered corrections and guidance along the way. Despite the difficulty of adapting to this new martial art, which was vastly different from boxing, I felt a genuine elation and excitement at learning it the feelings invoked within me the same as the day my grandfather had started teaching me boxing. 

"Remember, Luci," she said softly, noticing my struggle with a particular move, "Fishman Karate is about harmony with your body and the water. Don't rush; let the technique come naturally."

With each attempt, I could feel my body gradually adapting to the new movements. Although challenging, the sense of progress was rewarding. My mother's patient corrections and supportive words made each step more manageable, and I began to feel a growing connection between the fluidity of Fishman Karate and the meditation I had practiced earlier.

Afterwards, I began practicing the forms and movements my mother had taught me earlier on one of the training dummies. I relished the satisfying thud and the feeling of my punches and kicks connecting with it.

By the end of the session the sun was starting to set and I felt very tired but invigorated. My mother's proud smile and words of praise filled me with a deep sense of accomplishment. "You did well today, Luci," she said warmly. "Keep practicing, and you'll continue to improve."

I nodded, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction as we started heading back into the house. My mother's warm smile and the pride in her eyes were a comforting reminder of how far I had come.

As we stepped through the door, the rich aroma of a meal in progress wafted through the house. My father's voice carried from the kitchen, his gruff yet affectionate tone cutting through the calm atmosphere. "Ah, you two are back! I'm just about finished with dinner. How was your practice?"

My mother chuckled softly. "Lucian did very well today. We worked on the basics of Fishman Karate, and he's making excellent progress."

I could hear the clinking of pots and pans as my father moved about in the kitchen. "Good to hear," he replied. "I've got a hearty stew on the stove, and it should be ready soon. Why don't you both wash up and join me at the table?"

The familiar sound of the kitchen—pots bubbling, the sizzle of ingredients, and the comforting smell of a home-cooked meal—filled the air, creating a sense of warmth and belonging. My mother and I made our way to the bathroom to freshen up, and soon we were gathered around the dining table.

As we sat down, my father served the meal with his usual care, placing steaming bowls of stew in front of us. "I thought you could use a good meal after a productive day," he said, his eyes softening as he looked at me.

A mischievous smile appeared on his face as he added, "By the way, Luci', tomorrow we'll dive into the basics of the Astra Discipline next, so get some rest tonight."

The smile on his face sent a shiver down my spine, hinting at the challenges to come.

We spent the rest of the evening enjoying the comforting meal and each other's company. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and a warmth that I had missed dearly. As we finished dinner, I could hardly fall asleep, excited not only about what tomorrow might bring but also about the future.

...

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The next morning began just like the previous one. I woke up, ate breakfast, and headed to the dojo, where the white gi awaited me. After putting it on, I started my routine physical training with the horse stance, followed by stretching, breathing exercises, endurance, and strength training which was finally followed by meditation until the next lesson.

This time, instead of my mother, it was my father who stood ready to begin the next part of my training. His presence was overwhelming, with his lean and toned muscles visible even under his thick, furry whitish-grey hair. Towering at least 6 or 7 feet tall, with curved horns on his head, he cut an imposing figure. Yet, despite his somewhat intimidating appearance, his face held a gentle but serious expression as he addressed me.

"Today, son," he began, his voice steady and commanding, "we start your training in the Astra Discipline."

I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was the moment I had been anticipating. Unlike Fishman Karate, which I had knowledge of from seeing Jinbe use it in my past life, my father's martial art was entirely new to me.

"First, assume this stance," he instructed.

My father took a stance that exuded confidence. He planted his front foot firmly with his toes facing forward and bent his knee slightly for stability. His back foot was angled to provide balance, poised for quick movement. His legs were spread to offer both strength and mobility, with his body lowered slightly to enhance balance. His torso was upright but relaxed, ready for swift adjustments. One hand was raised to shoulder height, with his sharp claws extended, while the other hand stayed close to his body for support. His head was held high, eyes focused straight ahead.

He demonstrated the position himself, his movements precise and fluid, each part of his body aligning perfectly to showcase the balance and power of the stance. I mirrored his posture, focusing on getting every detail right.

He walked around me, adjusting my form with a practiced eye. "Good," he said, nodding in approval. "The Astra Discipline is about adaptability and taking advantage of our Mink tribe's natural weapons alongside our natural agility. Strike out with your claws or feet, and always be prepared to use either to keep your opponent guessing."

We spent the next hour going through the basics. My father demonstrated various kicks and claw strikes, some of which were so acrobatic and required such dexterity that I ended up falling on my ass a few times. Despite my mistakes, my father didn't get angry or reprimand me too harshly. Instead, he helped me up and corrected whatever I had failed on with gentle but firm instructions.

It was very different from Fishman Karate, to say the least, though not weaker at all. If I had to compare them, Fishman Karate was like a sturdy tank, attacking with stable and heavy strength. In contrast, the Astra Discipline was more free-flowing, almost like a bird in the sky, combined with the ferocity of a leaping tiger.

Practicing and pushing myself to meet my father's expectations, I gradually began to grasp the essence of the Astra Discipline. I learned how to seamlessly flow between combinations of kicks and claw attacks though i could still tell i had a long road ahead.

As the training session continued, I pushed myself to keep up with my father's pace. His encouragement and guidance were invaluable, and by the end of the session, I felt a deep sense of accomplishment.

"Well done, son," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You've made a good start. Remember to practice these basics every day, and soon you'll see significant improvement."

Aftwe we finished up the training session, the tantalizing aroma of dinner wafted through the dojo. My mother's voice called from the kitchen, "Dinner will be ready soon! I'm making something special tonight—your favorite spicy seafood stew with Thunder Leviathan meat."

The thought of the stew, with its electrifying and spicy kick, made my mouth water. The Sea King Thunder Leviathan was a rare and formidable sea creature known for its zesty flavor and lightning abilities, reminiscent of an electric eel but on an entirely different level. Its electric properties infused the meat even after death, adding an extra layer of spice that made the dish a fierce point of competition between my father and me. My father and I exchanged eager glances and began racing into the house to quickly wash up and dive into the meal.

We gathered around the table, where bowls of steaming stew and freshly baked bread awaited. The stew's vibrant red broth crackledd with lightning a few times, and the first taste was a delightful explosion of heat and flavor, with a subtle, electrifying tingle that enhanced the spiciness left me almost ascending to heaven.

As we enjoyed the meal, the warmth of the stew and the comforting bread made the evening feel even more special. The joy of sharing the meal with my family, combined with my mother's proud gaze and my father's encouraging words, made the stew taste even better than it otherwise would have.

...

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Lying in bed, I felt utterly stuffed from the hearty meal, the remnants of the Sea King Thunder Leviathan stew making me wish I hadn't indulged quite so much. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the window, mingling with the first hints of dawn that were gently illuminating the island. As I lay there, my stomach pleasantly full but heavy, I sighed and muttered to myself, "I'm never eating that much again."

But almost immediately, a grin crept onto my face as I added, "Well, maybe I am. That stew was just too good to pass up again."

As I lay there, contentedly full, I couldn't help but reflect on the past two days of training. Despite the physical exhaustion, I found myself genuinely enjoying every moment. The soreness in my muscles was a testament to the rigorous training I had undergone, and it filled me with a sense of accomplishment and excitement.

Learning these techniques gave me a tantalizing glimpse of the fighter I could become. My mind began to race with possibilities, fueled by the unique advantage of my knowledge from my previous life - an edge I fully intended to exploit. I knew about the various martial arts that existed in this world - Fishman Karate and the astra discipline which i was now learning, Rokushiki used by Cipher Pol, Hasshoken, and so many more.

A feeling of delightful greed washed over me as I realized I didn't want to stop with just Fishman Karate and the Astra Discipline. The potential of combining these techniques was intoxicating, especially considering how they could be enhanced by my control over water or electricity - or perhaps even both. In that moment, I made up my mind: whatever shape my dream would take in the future, I wanted it to be one where I could not only use my martial abilities but also travel around this beautifully dark world, learning more martial arts to add to my repertoire.

With this new resolve burning inside me, I closed my eyes, my mind still buzzing with ideas and plans. As sleep began to claim me, one last thought drifted through my mind: could I bribe my mom for more Thunder Leviathan stew?

...

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Authors Note: 

Thanks for reading the chapter :) If you have any thoughts/criticisms you'd like to share or ideas for the story be it ideas for powers/techniques, characters, plot points or anything else let me know in the comments, ill try to get to them. Also for any if interested this is Crossposted on webnovel, wattpad, scribblehub, AO3 and fanfiction.net though webnovel is the one i mainly use and have in mind. ill try to post images for characters or gifs for techniques on the sites that will let me. Anyway Bye!

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