44
"We have to practice down here...why?" Gin asked dubiously, looking around Ends Justified's hold. Wasn't a lot of space, between the walled-off bits where the lab was supposed to be and all the cargo everywhere else.
Kaneki shrugged. "Something about keeping our actual fighting ability a secret. Captain doesn't trust the other crews, for all that we're supposed to be working together."
Gin snorted. "It's going to be a wonder if we don't end up turning on each other by the end of whatever fight we're being hired to participate in."
"Captain's making plans for when they try to stab us in the back," Kaneki confirmed. "We want them not knowing we've got armor on when they do...metaphorically speaking."
"Hmph. And I'm fighting the walking magnet why?"
"You are a silicate artillery piece," said magnet said brightly.
Kaneki sighed. "Glass cannon, C."
"That is what I said, yes?"
"I have a feeling I should be kind of insulted by that," Gin said. "Should I?"
Kaneki shrugged. "Insulted or not, doesn't change the fact that you still need to toughen up. Starvation sticks around, and we're trying to get you up to speed against the rest of the officers."
"Not the rank and file?" Gin asked dryly, taking out his tonfa.
Kaneki shook his head. "Out've them, pretty sure only Ostavila could take you in a fight. And that's because-"
"-she cheats," C and Gin said at the same time.
"Right. So, you're deadly enough to be officer material...but pretty sure Lauren or Jack could beat you out for toughness, if only because of their knowledge of Iron Body. So we're going to work on that. And C needs to learn combat in general, so you get to treat him like an indestructible test dummy."
Hmm. Gin nodded slowly, and cracked his neck. "When you put it like that, can't really object," he said, starting to spin his tonfa. C cracked his knuckles, and dropped into a boxer's stance.
"Thought you were a ranged fighter," Gin said casually, as his tonfa spun faster and faster.
"Brother says I must improve my non-Devil-Fruit abilities," the ghoul-clone said calmly. "So I am doing so."
"Heh. Suppose that's fair...Demon Dance!"
His legs launched him forwards fast enough to be mistaken for a Shave, and his tonfas swung, one from above, the other from the side.
C blocked the overhead strike, his crossed arms visibly bending under the blow, but the second tonfa caught him in the ribs, knocking him down.
Gin didn't let up. Any other opponent, he might've, but a ghoul would heal and get back up in moments. "Hell's Descent!" he shouted, bringing both tonfa down at once on his opponent before he could do more than get up on hands and knees. Bones cracked, and C was driven flat again. Gin backed up, keeping his tonfa rotating. He reminded himself that the purpose here was to teach C some fighting skills, not just crush him in a fight he wasn't suited for.
C's bones cracked again as his spine visibly reshaped itself under his thin shirt, and the ghoul got to his feet. "You are tough," he said calmly, returning to that boxing stance. "My turn now."
C was fast. Not as fast as Gin these days (something he had the captain to thank for...and maybe Kaneki, training sadist though he was), but a decent turn of speed, especially as he was lunging forwards. Good punch, too, solid form- not that it stopped Gin from sidestepping the attack, tonfa hafts lashing out. One on the elbow, the other on the forearm. He applied pressure, working against the joint, and C's arm crunched under the leverage.
Not that it stopped the ghoul's other fist from landing an uppercut against his jaw. Gin's head snapped back as stars scattered across his vision, but he grit his teeth and swung back. C was too close for his tonfa to build up a lot of speed, but the haft smacking into his chest forced him back a step, and gave Gin the room he needed to swing the other tonfa back around, slamming it into C's knee. The ghoul stumbled- and then flipped into a handspring, legs coming around in a motion that reminded Gin all too well of Sanji, forcing him to block or take a boot-clad foot to the temple.
Luckily, the packing crate interrupted his flight across the ship's hold.
"I think we'll call a halt here," Kaneki said mildly.
Gin groaned.
The ship's deck was empty.
Mists surrounded Ends Justified, only a small circle of water around the ship itself clear.
He looked up. The sails were tattered, bare fragments waving. What...what had happened? Where was everyone?
His nose found nothing, save the scent of the ship itself and the sea.
What was this?
"Boy."
No. No. Nononononononononono…
"Boy. Face me."
Herman's legs felt like lead, but he turned. And faced a walking corpse.
Wyald looked surprisingly good for a dead man. Someone appeared to have stitched his head back on, and even connected the halves of his torso that Amakatta had split open back together, thick black stitches straining against his bloodstained clothing.
"This is a dream," Herman said.
Wyald smiled. "Is it, boy?"
"Kaneki ate your corpse after I cut it apart, and while I'm fairly sure the captain could probably revive the dead he can't reconstruct a human from shit. So a dream. Or, a nightmare," Herman said with a calm he was certainly not feeling. He reached for Amakatta, and his hand grasped empty air.
Wyald's grin widened. "Looking for this?" he asked, hefting Herman's blade in one hand. "It suits me better, I think, boy."
Herman's knuckles cracked like gunshots as his hands clenched into fists. "You're a phantom. Nothing more."
"Am I? Tell me." Wyald waved the blade almost carelessly, and a line of fire carved itself into Herman's chest, sending him stumbling back. He put a hand to the wound, and his fingers came away bloody. He stared at the blood on his gauntlets. A weapon. He needed a-
In the blink of an eye, Wyald was in front of him, the massive man's hand on his throat, slamming him into the wood of the mainmast. Splinters dug into Herman's back, piercing his cloak and armor with ease.
"What are you, boy?" he growled. "A half-rate swordsman, a third-rate navigator, you don't even have a dream of your own! You have no ambition, no pride!" Herman's view began to narrow as Wyald's grip tightened. "What are you, boy? You aren't even the third-best fighter on your own crew, your job directing the ship could be taken over by any fool with a Log Pose, and you sure as hell can't cut steel...so what use are you, boy?"
Herman's breath burned in his lungs, fire spreading in his veins as his entire body cried out for oxygen. He couldn't-
"What use are you?!"
Couldn't-
"Herman!"
His vision was going dark-
"Herman!"
He was burning-
"Wake up, Herman."
Gah!
His eyes flew open, and he sat up. Walls. Ceiling. Floor. The lab. The captain. What.
"What-" He stopped, and coughed, his throat feeling like sandpaper. His entire body felt sore, but his airway was the worst. "What the hell…"
"Some short term memory loss, hmm…" the captain said. "How do you feel?"
Herman tried to take deep breaths, ignoring the gradually fading pain in his throat and lungs. "Like shit," he said flatly. "What happened?"
"You volunteered to test out one of Lauren's gas grenades. Which one…"
"The hallucinogenic one," Lauren- great, there she was, standing on the other side of the lab.
"Yes, that. Anyway, you started having muscle seizures, I administered the counteragent, and woke you back up. You remember anything about the hallucination?"
"It was...Wyald. Something about how I was useless," Herman said shortly, swinging his legs off the laboratory cot.
"Hm. A success, then."
Herman just growled. The captain chuckled.
"Hey, you volunteered for it. Not sure why, but you did. Actually, if you could tell me…"
"Last I remember was deciding to watch C sort cutlery with his powers," Herman said, trying to dredge up the memories the captain said should be there.
"Well, that was roughly...twenty minutes ago. So, your motives shall be lost. A pity," the captain said melodramatically.
"Captain…"
"Yes?"
"Next time I try to volunteer for something, don't let me. Now if you excuse me, I need to go hit something," Herman growled, standing and walking out of the lab.
He had training to do.