Chapter 25: Coating the Path Forward

The docks were quiet in the glow of the fading sunlight, a soft breeze rustling through the masts of anchored ships. Rayleigh stood at the edge of the pier, waiting with his arms crossed and his gaze steady as he watched us approach. Even without speaking, his presence carried an unspoken authority, a kind of calm, quiet strength that demanded respect.

"Glad to see you're punctual," he greeted, his voice carrying over the sounds of the waves lapping against the pier. "Let's not waste any time. I'll need to inspect your ship first."

We boarded, and Rayleigh took his time inspecting every detail of the ship, examining its structure with a critical eye. His hands moved with practiced ease, assessing the strength of the wood, the curves of the hull, the layout of the deck. I stood nearby, watching his every movement, taking in every technique and method he used to evaluate the ship.

"Good frame," he remarked finally, giving a nod of approval. "Sturdy enough to handle the pressure, but there'll need to be some adjustments. If we're coating it to withstand the depths of Fish-Man Island's waters, the job has to be flawless."

I stepped forward, intrigued as he began gathering tools from his workbag, tools I hadn't seen before. Each was crafted for a specific task, each movement deliberate, purposeful. He caught me watching, his eyebrow lifting with a flicker of irritation.

"Think you've seen enough?" he asked, a faint edge to his tone.

"Not yet," I replied, meeting his gaze. "But I'd like to."

For a brief moment, I saw the faintest flash of impatience in his eyes. He had clearly dealt with more than enough overconfident young pirates in his time, people who sought to rush the process without respecting the skill it demanded.

"Coating isn't something you learn by watching once," he said, his voice stern. "It takes time, practice, and precision, three things you're unlikely to grasp in a single session."

Undeterred, I stepped closer, keenly observing his every movement as he began the coating process. Rayleigh shot me a sidelong look, a mix of curiosity and annoyance in his expression, but he continued, explaining as he went.

"You have to coat it slowly, building layer by layer," he said, his hands working methodically. "This isn't like any ordinary sealant, this coating is designed to withstand extreme depths and temperatures. It's more art than science."

His hands moved with care, layering the protective resin over the hull in a slow, even motion. The fluid created a shimmering, almost glass-like surface as it spread, sealing the wood with a light-reflecting barrier that seemed to absorb the sunlight.

As I observed, it became clear that every aspect of the coating process was connected, every tool, every precise motion, and each layer depended on the one before it. I memorized his rhythm, his timing, and each minor adjustment he made. But as I watched, ideas began to spark, small improvements I could visualize, adjustments to make the process more efficient, even enhance its strength.

Curiosity compelled me forward. When Rayleigh paused, I saw an opportunity and began applying the next layer, adapting the angle of the brush with a slight tilt to enhance coverage. His gaze shot over to me, a glint of irritation flashing in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice edged with disbelief.

"Improving the coverage," I answered calmly, finishing the stroke before meeting his gaze. "It's a minor adjustment, but it helps distribute the coating more evenly."

Rayleigh's expression shifted, a mixture of irritation and something else, something close to surprise. He watched intently as I applied the next layer, and though he didn't say a word, I could sense his scrutiny, feel his assessment in every glance.

For a moment, he remained silent, observing my movements as I continued the work. Then, as if testing me, he nodded toward the next section of the hull.

"Fine. Show me what else you think you know."

I took it as permission and moved along the hull, adjusting the pressure and angle with each layer, keeping the coating smooth, even, and perfectly timed. With each pass, I could sense his eyes on me, watching, evaluating every movement, his initial irritation giving way to something more focused, more interested.

After a time, Rayleigh took a step back, crossing his arms as he observed my work. "You pick things up fast, I'll give you that," he muttered, though his voice held a note of caution. "But improvement isn't the same as mastery."

I inclined my head, respecting his authority on the matter. "Understood. But improvement has to start somewhere."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, though his tone remained gruff. "Cocky, aren't you? But I suppose there's skill to back it up." He paused, and I saw the faintest glint of something close to respect in his eyes. "Ever done this before?"

I shook my head, and he seemed to answer his own question, muttering, "No… no, this is real."

Rayleigh continued watching as I worked, his expression thoughtful, almost distracted as he leaned against the hull. He was silent, but his thoughts were evident on his face.

....

'He's good, too good for someone untrained. Reminds me of that boy…' His mind wandered, tracing back to the young man he'd been training here on Sabaody, Luffy, whose raw determination and natural intuition had surprised him time and again.

But unlike Luffy's reckless drive, there was something calculated, methodical in the way this young man approached things. It was a stark contrast to the wild, unrestrained energy that defined the boy who trained day and night in the grove, throwing himself headfirst into Haki training with a fiery determination.

'The world keeps producing new ones, doesn't it?' he thought, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

....

Rayleigh's attention returned to me, and he watched in silence as I moved with fluid precision, adapting the process to increase efficiency without sacrificing quality. The focus in my eyes mirrored a different kind of ambition, one that respected the process as much as the end result. He found himself intrigued, perhaps even a little impressed.

Mirabel, who had been watching the exchange, smiled slightly, stepping closer as Rayleigh finally broke the silence.

"You're relentless, I'll give you that. But this coating isn't a simple task, and it's more than a skill you can pick up in a few hours. There's an art to it, a rhythm you have to feel, not just observe."

I looked up, meeting his gaze, my voice calm. "That's why I'm here, Rayleigh. Not just for the coating but to understand what's needed to push forward. This journey requires more than brute force or talent, it demands control, understanding. That's what I'm after."

He held my gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly, and for a long moment, there was only the sound of the waves, the quiet creaking of the ship as it settled in the water. Finally, he nodded, his expression shifting, an acknowledgment of something he'd seen in me.

"Well, let's see if you can keep up, then." He handed me one of his finer brushes, the tool resting in my palm with surprising weight. "Finish this side."

As I moved along the hull, my focus sharp, I could sense Rayleigh's approval building, though he gave no outward sign of it. Mirabel joined in, observing both of us with a faint smile, and together we continued the work until the entire hull gleamed in the soft light of the sunset, perfectly coated and ready for the depths.

Rayleigh gave a nod of satisfaction, crossing his arms as he looked over the finished product. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

There was a weight to his tone, an acknowledgment that was subtle yet unmistakable. He didn't offer praise lightly, and I knew that every word, every nod, had been earned.

As we packed up the tools, he turned to face me, a faint smile playing at his lips. "You remind me of someone, you know. A certain stubborn kid who's out there pushing his limits every day… learning to harness his own strength."

His words lingered, hinting at something deeper, a connection to a story that was still unfolding, a legacy being forged even now on that very island.

"A lot of people pass through Sabaody," he continued, his tone thoughtful, "but only a few understand that reaching the New World requires more than just talent. It's a path that demands everything you've got… and then some."

I nodded, a quiet understanding settling over me. "Then that's exactly what I'll give."

Rayleigh's gaze held a rare softness, as though he were seeing something beyond the present moment, a future only he could glimpse. But as quickly as it came, the look faded, replaced by his usual calm expression.

"Best not to keep Fish-Man Island waiting, then," he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. "You're ready now, but remember, the New World is a place that tests even the strongest."

With a final nod, he turned, leaving us with our newly coated ship, a vessel prepared for the depths that lay ahead. And as the last light of the day glinted off the shimmering hull, I felt a renewed resolve, an anticipation for the journey that awaited.

The New World was close, close enough to taste.

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