The Young Monk Among Marines

Marineford buzzed with life as young recruits bustled about, their wooden swords clashing in practice duels and their boots pounding rhythmically on the training fields. Among them, a lone figure stood out like a candle in the dark—a boy of six years old, wearing a saffron kasaya draped over his small frame. Prayer beads hung loosely around his neck, swaying gently as he walked with slow, deliberate steps.

Tenzin moved through the training yard with an aura of calm that seemed almost surreal amidst the clamor. His head was freshly shaven, gleaming in the sunlight, much to the ongoing frustration of his father. Sengoku had long since given up on convincing him to grow his hair out, and even now, the Fleet Admiral watched from a distance with a resigned sigh.

"Still bald, huh?" muttered Zephyr, standing beside Sengoku with his arms crossed. The former Admiral and head instructor of the Marine Academy was an imposing figure, his muscular frame and stern expression radiating authority. "And what's with the robes? I've seen priests with more battlefield readiness."

Sengoku pinched the bridge of his nose. "Trust me, I've tried. The boy's stubborn. Says the robes are part of his 'vows.' He refuses to wear anything else."

Zephyr chuckled, a rare sound from the usually serious man. "Well, if he's anything like you, stubbornness runs in the family."

Tenzin approached a group of young recruits sparring under Zephyr's watchful eye. His hands were clasped in front of him in eternal prayer, his eyes shut as if oblivious to the world around him. Yet, as the clatter of wooden swords grew louder, he opened his eyes and stepped forward.

"Good morning, Instructor Zephyr," Tenzin said, bowing respectfully.

Zephyr turned, his stern gaze softening slightly. "Tenzin. Punctual, as always. Are you ready to train?"

Tenzin nodded. "Yes, Instructor. Though I believe training the body is only half the battle. Training the mind and spirit is equally important."

A chorus of muffled snickers erupted from the nearby recruits. Among them, a teenage Smoker crossed his arms, the unlit cigars in his mouth bobbing as he smirked.

"Training the spirit, huh? Is that why you're dressed like a monk?" Smoker quipped, earning a few more laughs from the group.

Tenzin turned to face him, his calm demeanor unshaken. "The spirit guides the body. Without balance, one cannot find true strength."

Smoker rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, monk boy. Just don't trip on your robe."

Before Zephyr could reprimand him, Hina, another teenage recruit, stepped forward, her sharp eyes narrowing at Smoker. "Smoker, that's enough," she said. "He's not bothering anyone."

Smoker shrugged, though he looked slightly chastened.

Tenzin offered Hina a small bow. "Thank you. It is kind of you to speak up."

Zephyr clapped his hands, commanding the attention of the group. "Enough chatter. Everyone to your positions. Sparring drills, now!"

As the recruits scrambled into pairs, Tenzin joined them, his kasaya swirling slightly as he moved. His sparring partner, a wiry boy named Takashi, gave him an uncertain look.

"Uh, are you sure you can fight in those robes?" Takashi asked hesitantly.

Tenzin smiled gently. "Clothes are merely an extension of the body. They do not determine one's ability to act."

Takashi raised his practice sword uncertainly, and the two began.

Despite his unassuming appearance, Tenzin moved with remarkable grace and precision. His movements were fluid, almost meditative, as if each strike and parry were part of a deliberate rhythm. Takashi struggled to keep up, his strikes clumsy in comparison.

Zephyr observed from the sidelines, his sharp eyes narrowing in approval. "He's got good instincts," he muttered to himself. "And that calm… it's not something you see every day in a boy his age."

The sparring match ended with Tenzin disarming Takashi, his wooden sword spinning out of his hand and clattering to the ground. Tenzin stepped back and bowed, his hands returning to their clasped position.

"Well fought," Tenzin said. "But remember—strength comes from focus, not force."

Takashi blinked, his face red with embarrassment but also respect. "Thanks… I guess."

As the training session wound down, Tenzin sat cross-legged under a tree near the edge of the yard. A few recruits gathered around him out of curiosity, their expressions a mix of amusement and intrigue. Among them were Hina and a still-skeptical Smoker, who leaned against the tree with his arms crossed.

"So, what's with the whole 'prayer' thing?" Smoker asked bluntly. "You don't seriously believe that stuff helps, do you?"

Tenzin opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "Prayer is not about asking for strength or favors. It is a way to center oneself, to find balance and clarity amidst chaos."

Hina tilted her head, intrigued. "Balance? You mean like… inner peace?"

"Precisely," Tenzin said. He reached for the prayer beads around his neck and held them up. "These remind me of the cycles of life. Each bead represents a step on the path to enlightenment."

Smoker snorted. "Sounds like a bunch of fluff to me."

Tenzin turned to him, his gaze steady but kind. "Tell me, Smoker—what drives you to become a Marine?"

Smoker blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What? I… I want to fight for justice, of course. To protect people from scum like pirates."

Tenzin nodded. "A noble goal. But justice without balance can become tyranny. Remember that strength is not measured by the enemies you defeat, but by the peace you create."

The recruits fell silent, each of them pondering his words. Even Smoker looked thoughtful, though he quickly masked it with a scowl.

Hina broke the silence. "Do you think we'll ever see a world like that? A world of peace?"

Tenzin clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. "Perhaps. But it will not come easily. The path to harmony is long and difficult. Amitabha."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Sengoku arrived to retrieve Tenzin. The boy was seated under the same tree, his small form silhouetted against the fiery sky.

"You've been busy," Sengoku remarked as he approached.

Tenzin stood and bowed. "Father. The training was enlightening."

Sengoku chuckled. "You're an odd one, Tenzin. But Zephyr seems impressed, and that's no small feat."

As they walked back toward their quarters, Sengoku glanced down at his son. "You know, you don't have to take all this so seriously. You're still a child."

Tenzin looked up at him with a serene expression. "Every moment is an opportunity to grow, Father. Even in childhood."

Sengoku sighed, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and admiration. "You're going to give me gray hair before my time."

Tenzin smiled softly, his hands once again clasped in prayer.