The way of the Giants (1)
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It had been a day since Shanks began his "training"—or as the Giants liked to call it, learning a few tricks. And after just one day, his body felt like it had been run over by a herd of ox.
His muscles screamed with every step. Even walking was a chore. Sitting? Pain. Standing? Worse. Lying down? Only slightly better.
At the moment, though, he had found some temporary relief in one of the many hot springs nestled near the edge of the Sun Village.
The steam rose in thick clouds, warming his face as he leaned back against a smooth stone. The water here was different—thick with magic. He could feel it seeping into his aching body, easing the strain.
He was alone, unsurprisingly. Giants couldn't fit into the smaller hot springs meant for people his size. Their version of a hot spring looked more like a lava lake from a distance. This one was quiet, calm, and most importantly—just for him.
Shanks let out a deep sigh of relief, the tension finally draining from his shoulders. "This really is the best," he muttered to himself with a relaxed smile.
That peaceful moment didn't last.
"That damn Rock," he groaned, his smile twisting into a frown. "Training me like I'm some kind of steel golem."
Despite the complaints, there was no real anger in his voice. Shanks was grateful—genuinely grateful. The Giants had no real reason to help him. No obligation. No benefit. And yet, here they were, welcoming him, training him, even guiding him.
His thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Rock—the Giant who had taken it upon himself to teach him
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"You're really taking time out of your day to train me," Shanks had asked, eyeing the massive Giant who had stepped in to speak with him not long after his spar with Crotch. "Just because one of the Elders asked you to?"
Rock chuckled. A low, rumbling sound that was somehow still warm.
"Yes," he said simply. "As I told you before. We Giants… we can sense the intent of others. And we can recognize the blood of our kind—even when it's diluted, buried beneath generations."
He paused, scratching his chin. "Besides, I don't really have much else to do these days."
Unlike his brother Crotch, Rock was calm, soft-spoken, and thoughtful. Where Crotch had been brash and explosive, Rock had a quiet strength. That made him one of the few Giants Shanks genuinely enjoyed being around.
"I see…" Shanks had said quietly, nodding.
Rock leaned on his massive club, watching him with something like curiosity in his gaze.
"Most Mages don't use weapons," the Giant had said. "To them, magic is everything. They think steel is unnecessary. But to us Giants… weapons are more than tools. They're our pride. Our history. Our will, shaped into form."
He tapped the end of his club against the ground, sending a small tremor through the earth.
"I can't teach you my Magic," he continued, "but I can teach you something else. A technique. One that you've likely been using already, just without understanding it."
Shanks raised an eyebrow. "A technique?"
Rock grinned wide, showing off his jagged teeth. His eyes gleamed with the same excitement Shanks felt when learning something new.
"It's called Haki."
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Back in the present
Shanks blinked, steam swirling around his face as he processed the memory again. That word had stuck with him.
Haki.
He was pretty sure he had heard the name somewhere. Perhaps from some other Anime or Manga he had read in his previous life.
He regretted not finishing the Mangas he had stockpiled. Even One Piece- a manga he genuinely enjoyed, he had only read up to Summit War and even that was just halfway through.
"Sigh." Shanks sighed and quickly eliminated those thoughts from his mind and just relaxed his body.
He took a deep breath, letting the magic in the hot spring seep into his muscles and bones. His body still ached, but his spirit felt renewed. Fired up. Hungry.
A smile curved on his lips again. "Alright, Rock," he muttered, eyes narrowing with determination. "Let's see what you've got for me next."
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The next morning
The sun rose lazily over the rocky cliffs that guarded the Sun Village. Its light spilled over the sleeping giants sprawled across the village square, snoring with open mouths and half-empty barrels of ale in their grip. The place looked less like a village and more like the aftermath of a battlefield of partying.
Shanks stood at the training grounds—a wide, flat clearing near the base of a sheer cliff where the ground had been flattened over centuries by Giant sparring sessions. It was still early. The air was cold and crisp, with a slight shimmer of magic dancing in the breeze.
He wore loose training clothes gifted by the Giants. Even though they were supposed to be for a child among their kind, they still hung off his frame slightly. A wooden practice sword hung at his waist. His real saber was back in his room.
Across from him stood Rock, arms crossed, expression neutral.
"You came early," the Giant rumbled, voice deep and steady.
"Couldn't sleep much," Shanks said with a shrug. "That hot spring worked wonders, but my muscles are still angry."
Rock gave a quiet hum. "Good. Soreness is a sign of growth. But pain also teaches you limits."
Shanks smiled faintly. "So... are you going to finally show me this 'Haki' technique?"
Rock nodded slowly, then pointed a massive finger at Shanks. "First, tell me—what do you feel when you fight?"
The question caught Shanks off guard.
"...I feel focused, I guess. I try to read my opponent, look for openings. I keep my distance when I can. Let my magic do most of the work unless I have to go close quarters."
"And when someone stronger than you stand in front of you?" Rock asked, voice like grinding stone. "When you know you're outmatched?"
Shanks hesitated.
"...Then I feel excited," he admitted. "Nervous, sure—but it feels like my body moves faster. My instincts sharpen. Like something inside me wakes up."
Rock grinned slightly. "Exactly. That is the beginning. That 'something' you feel... that's your will clashing with theirs. Haki, as we call it, is the power of one's spirit. It is not magic. It does not rely on Ethernano. It is something deeper. Something primal."
He stomped once, and the ground cracked slightly beneath his foot. "It is power born from resolve. It can make your blows hit harder. It can let you sense intent. And eventually... it can let you strike at the very soul."
Shanks' eyes widened.
"There are two main ways to use Haki - Observation and Armament."
Shanks blinked. That name sounded incredibly familiar, but he couldn't recall much beyond the phrase. He shook his head, focusing.
"Today, we start with Observation. Sharpen your instincts. Quiet your mind."
Rock gestured for Shanks to stand in the center of the training ground. He did.
"Now, close your eyes."
Shanks obeyed.
"Don't move. No matter what."
Shanks raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what are you—"
WHOOSH
A massive rock the size of a small boulder flew past his head, close enough that he felt the wind burn his cheek.
"WHAT THE—!?"
"I said don't move," Rock said calmly, already tossing another one.
Shanks cursed and ducked—but too late. The second rock grazed his shoulder, knocking him off balance.
"You're trying to dodge with your body. But that won't be enough. Your senses must anticipate, not react. Your spirit must feel the intent behind the strike before it happens."
"You're trying to kill me!" Shanks shouted.
"If I wanted to kill you," Rock chuckled, "you'd be dead already."
Another rock came flying, but this time, Shanks didn't dodge. He gritted his teeth and stayed still. The rock smashed into the ground just behind him, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"You have good instincts," Rock said. "But instincts aren't enough. Observation Haki refines those instincts. You'll begin to feel the air change. The shift in magic—not just from the Ethernano, but from will. That's how Giants fight. We feel our enemy's presence long before we see them."
Shanks nodded. He trusted the Giant.
...And thus, training continued.
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