An unimaginable taste assaulted Nami's senses, flooding her mind with blank static. The sensation of something pressing against her throat triggered a gag reflex—not from disgust, but pure physiological reaction.
Tears welled in her eyes as she fought back the urge to cough. Compared to the hardships she'd endured, this discomfort was trivial. She steeled herself, determined not to show weakness.
Yet when it came to what followed, Nami was utterly lost.
She'd seen prostitutes in ports, overheard sailors boasting in taverns—but theory offered no guidance now. Frozen with inexperience, she simply held the foreign object in her mouth, unsure how to proceed.
After a moment's hesitation, she recalled fragmented memories and tentatively began moving her head.
"Ouch!" Ryuji winced as teeth grazed him. "Be careful with those!" He flicked her forehead. "No teeth! Just—ah, forget it."
Seeing her struggle, he took matters into his own hands—literally. Guiding her movements, he established a rhythm, adjusting angles until—
There.
Nami felt the intrusive presence shifting in her mouth. When her tongue instinctively twitched, another light smack followed.
"Use your tongue! And suction! Haven't you ever drunk through a straw?"
Though resentful, Nami obeyed. Her throat worked diligently as she held her breath, creating steady pressure. That clever tongue—the same one that'd bartered her way through a hundred ports—now explored with growing confidence.
True to her genius, adaptation came swiftly. Soon she required no guidance, anticipating needs before they arose. All Ryuji needed was an occasional push on her head to—
Gag!
—send her choking as he hit depths no "slow romance" could ever achieve.
This was the paradox of pragmatism. Emotional courtship might've stopped at playful licks. But desperation bred expediency—Nami's survival instincts accelerated her "education" in ways affection never could.
Not that it mattered. The ten-year contract was always a fiction. From the moment she'd knelt willingly, her life belonged to him. Bell-mère had known this. Known that no daughter of hers could endure such humiliation without psychological collapse.
Yet what choice remained? Arlong's shadow stretched too long. Without Ryuji's strength—without Bell-mère's resurrection—this bargain meant nothing.
But Arlong would die. That was certain.
Finally, with a groan, Ryuji seized her head. Scalding heat erupted down Nami's throat as he released his cum. She convulsed, tearing free just as—
Splurt!
White streaks painted her face, neck, and modest chest. Coughing violently, she expelled remnants through her nose while fiery droplets sizzled against skin.
"Ahhh! Much better!" Ryuji stretched contentedly. Robin might prefer traditional methods, but this—this spoke of absolute submission.
Their relationship was partnership.
This was ownership.
He grinned down at the splattered navigator.
"Now, lick it clean."
Ryuji propped his chin on his hand, watching with amusement as Nami coughed up saliva mixed with white viscous fluid. When she finally recovered, he pointed meaningfully at himself.
Nami's face twisted in displeasure, but she obediently picked up the now-softened dick and began diligently cleaning it with her tongue. Ryuji contentedly stroked her hair, then issued another command just as she prepared to spit.
"Swallow it."
Nami froze momentarily. Though visibly reluctant, she obediently gulped down all the cum under his watchful gaze.
"Excellent! Keep up this level of dedication!" Ryuji gave her an approving thumbs-up.
Truth be told, he found his current approach brilliantly effective - playing the ambiguous role between villain and benefactor. He could demand outrageous things while still maintaining a veneer of righteousness, enjoying both the girls' indignant expressions and their eventual devoted submission. The duality was intoxicating.
"You're such a jerk.", Robin commented as she stumbled out from nearby, though her tone carried more amusement than actual condemnation.
Given Ryuji's insatiable appetites, Robin understood his need for multiple partners. Ordinary women simply couldn't satisfy him. Still, his methods were so shameless they demanded commentary.
"It's simply more efficient this way," Ryuji countered with a grin. "If I asked you to service me orally, would you be this enthusiastic?"
Robin's face immediately contorted in disgust. "In your dreams."
It wasn't that she couldn't accept it, but compared to using her mouth, she preferred another approach. After all, the mouth couldn't feel anything—it was purely for Ryuji's benefit.
If they were going to do it, might as well use the other entrance. At least then she could enjoy herself too.
Not that anyone could blame them. Given the world these women lived in and what they'd been through, being pragmatic was only natural.
"See? That's the problem."
Ryuji clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. If she wasn't willing, then there was nothing more to discuss—his needs were simply too great.
Though Robin could create clones, her own endurance was pitiful. Even with clones sharing the load, it barely counted as one person's worth. Only when she could remain completely composed would her clone ability truly shine.
But currently? She was far from reaching that level.
The slightest stimulation would make her whole body tremble, legs clamping together uncontrollably... Truth be told, Robin's body was indeed more responsive to these matters than Nami's—but that was largely due to their age difference.
Let's not forget—Robin was much older.
At twenty-eight, she was a full decade older than eighteen-year-old Nami. With just a bit of grooming and proper skincare, she could easily achieve that milky-white complexion from later years—with even more mature charm to boot.
To be honest, Ryuji did enjoy Robin's current appearance—that mature, tanned older-sister vibe she carried—but he had to admit that another version of Robin, with a different aesthetic, would be even more tempting.
Still, that wasn't a problem. If Robin kept developing her Hana Hana no Mi powers, she could potentially achieve something akin to a transformation ability.
It was just that, in the original timeline, Robin never prioritized improving her personal combat abilities. Otherwise, the true destructive potential of her fruit would be absolutely insane.
I mean, could you imagine what would happen if Zoro or Sanji had eaten the Hana Hana no Mi?
That wouldn't just boost their power—it would render things like the Nika Fruit irrelevant.
With that thought, Ryuji couldn't help but speak up.
"Looks like it's time for you to start training seriously."
"Huh?" Robin blinked, confused.
Still, her instincts told her this wouldn't be anything good for her—more like something that would benefit him most.
"Yeah. Your stamina is clearly lacking, and your Devil Fruit development is way behind. So…"
She immediately crossed her arms in front of her chest in an 'X' gesture.
"Don't you start with your weird ideas again! I'm not developing strange new techniques just to satisfy your pervy fantasies, you jerk!"
Her cheeks were slightly flushed. After all, she had started experimenting with unorthodox applications of her powers for his sake in the first place… and now this felt like calling the kettle black.
The worst part? She really had come up with some ideas already...
"Fine, suit yourself," Ryuji said with a shrug.
He handed a bottle of water and a towel to Nami. Though he'd been harsh with her earlier, he didn't mind showing a bit of concern now.
While Nami quietly composed herself and fixed her appearance, Roger finally returned—and the Buggy Pirates silently took their leave.
"Not going to have a heart-to-heart with your old crewmate?" Ryuji asked, curious. He was genuinely interested in what Roger and Buggy might have discussed.
"Eh, there's not much to say," Roger replied with a sigh. "That brat's completely lost his edge. His Armament and Observation Haki are rusty, and he just keeps saying 'Shanks is enough'..."
He paused for a moment, visibly disappointed.
"Even though the crew disbanded long ago, I still hoped he'd do something worthwhile with his life. So I sent him off to Rayleigh—assuming that old guy's still kicking around."
Roger's face was tinged with helplessness. Buggy, once so promising, had completely given up the fight. Back in the day, he'd at least worked on improving himself in pursuit of treasure. But ever since eating that Devil Fruit, something had changed.
Worse, he'd left his dream of becoming Pirate King to Shanks.
Roger didn't like judging other people's dreams, but the way Buggy was now… he was bound to get hurt someday.
So he sent him off to Rayleigh to retrain. With that, he might not surpass Shanks anytime soon, but taking down someone like a Warlord of the Sea? That shouldn't be a problem.
In a way, it was Roger's way of protecting him. After all, with Roger's reappearance, even if Garp helped cover for him, the World Government would still be sent into a frenzy.
"But once we hit the next island, we'll need to part ways," Roger added, looking at Ryuji. "Otherwise, things will get very messy for you."
He had no intention of dragging Ryuji or Buggy to the grave with him. Roger was a man already marked by death.
"I see..." Ryuji nodded, understanding perfectly. If he wanted to sail freely, he'd have to keep his distance from Roger, meaning Roger needed to vanish from his path for a long while.
"Oh, right," Roger suddenly said. "Kid, interested in learning some Haki techniques from me?"
Ryuji thought about it seriously for a moment—then shook his head.
To most people in this world, the Pirate King's Haki was something they couldn't even dream of refusing. But Ryuji was different.
He had too many abilities already—several similar to Haki. If nothing else, the powers from the Arad world were leagues above what this world could offer.
Right now, he was still laying his foundation. He understood his own path clearly. His current priority was building physical strength and sharpening his fundamentals.
As for Haki? Once he fully mastered Life Return, it would fall into place naturally.
But the more advanced Haki techniques? Those took years of deep immersion to master. And honestly...
Arad's techniques were more refined, more efficient, and more rewarding. Even the sword style passed down in Rias's family was a better fit for him than the swordsmanship of this world.
It wasn't that Ryuji looked down on One Piece's world—far from it. In terms of fame and popularity, Arad wasn't even on the same level. But the power systems in Arad could clearly reach godlike domains.
He may not have god-tier talent, but under Seria's guidance, he could still reach the first level of awakening—and was already progressing toward the second.
Admiral-level strength in this world was about on par with the destructive power of a first awakening. Maybe borderline second awakening.
Sure, humans in this world had slightly better endurance and recovery than those in Arad. But when it came to true high-level combat, putting them up against the ancient demons and monsters of Arad's divine era? That was a joke.
Yes—Ryuji firmly believed Arad was a divine-era world. Whether it was Apostles walking the earth or adventurers strong enough to slay them, there was no question they had reached godhood.
Slicing through space with a blade, manipulating time itself, or controlling the blood inside an enemy's body—these weren't legendary feats in Arad. They were just… average.
Compared to that, the "techniques" of this world? Ryuji had only scratched the surface, and already he found them lacking.
Brutal, yes. Efficient, maybe. But they were simple. Crude.
What made them powerful wasn't the techniques themselves, but the strength of the bodies and wills behind them. If you had the physical and mental foundation, you didn't need to learn them—they came naturally. And if you didn't have that foundation, learning them was a waste of time.
In contrast, even basic blood-energy techniques in Arad required finesse. You couldn't just brute-force them.
And honestly…
Would hard training in One Piece world really yield results? Or just get you killed?
"You've got a point," Roger said, nodding thoughtfully. "Stuff like that shouldn't be taught anyway…"
He understood where Ryuji was coming from. Flashy techniques weren't the point—you picked them up in the heat of battle. Training them like school subjects was a waste of time. If your raw strength wasn't up to par, it was all for nothing.
You didn't become a master swordsman by grinding through drills. You had to be able to hear the voice of the blade.
And that kind of thing didn't come from practice alone—unless you were a genius.
Anyone who focused only on technique without getting into real fights? They were just a showpiece.
Ryuji was right to focus on building his body. In this short amount of time, he wouldn't get far just training skills anyway.
Still…
There was one exception. A technique that, if Ryuji learned it, would make Haki development much easier down the line.
"Well, I suppose there's not much else I can teach you," Roger said with a grin. "But there's one move I think you really should see."
He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Problem is, using it without a proper opponent would be rude. Originally, I was gonna show it off to Buggy, but oh well. Let's go—I'll use this Arlong guy to demonstrate it instead."
Ryuji raised an eyebrow. "What move?"
Roger chuckled.
"Let's just say… I'm pretty proud of this one."
His grin widened as he declared:
"Divine Departure."