The treehouse was still cool in the early morning, its wood damp with dew and the leaves overhead glittering with soft gold light. Gwen arrived first this time, a paper bag in one hand, her hoodie sleeves pulled over her fists.
To her surprise, Luffy was already there, legs crossed, hunched over his sketchbook.
"You sleep here or something?" she teased, plopping down beside him.
"Almost," he grinned. "Couldn't stop drawing."
She handed him the bag. "Peanut butter and jelly. And a banana. You better eat."
He accepted it with a grateful nod. "Thanks, Captain."
A pause lingered. The weight of last night's revelations still hung between them—but not in a heavy way. More like the silence between notes in a song.
"So…" Gwen nudged his shoulder. "What does Haki training even look like?"
Now a few weeks into their tenth year, their bodies were adapting, but their teamwork still had a long way to go.
Luffy's eyes lit up. "Ava, activate Training Protocol Alpha."
Ava shimmered into form and floated above them. "Initializing beginner simulation mode."
A low hum buzzed through the wood as tiny glowing spheres materialized in the air—soft blue and green lights that darted slowly around the platform.
Gwen's mouth fell open. "Whoa. You've got a floating video game?"
"It's how I train Observation and movement," Luffy said, standing up and doing a light stretch. "Watch."
He moved in a sudden blur—arm stretching out, then his torso following in a spring-like arc as he tagged five spheres in mid-air before landing gracefully on the edge of the platform.
"Not bad, huh?" he grinned, panting slightly.
Gwen gawked. "You've been doing this every night?"
Ava confirmed. "His average reaction time has improved 17%. But his pacing is unsustainable without a partner."
Gwen smirked. "Then I guess it's time I stopped watching and started punching lightballs."
Ava shifted to a lower intensity. "Level One: Reaction Grid. Gwen, begin."
A sphere floated toward her.
She lunged—and missed.
Another came in from the left. She swiped late. Missed again.
By the fifth attempt, she was grumbling. "These things are rigged."
Luffy chuckled. "Don't chase it. Anticipate. Feel where it wants to go."
Gwen paused, exhaled, and watched the next sphere. She struck early this time—and hit it dead center.
"Nice!" Luffy cheered.
She straightened proudly. "Told you. Just needed a warm-up."
Ava flickered. "Noted. Adjusting speed. Beginning partner synchronization."
Gwen blinked. "Wait—partner?"
New spheres appeared, lined in red and blue. One for each of them. They had to hit them in sequence, trading off.
Luffy moved fast. Gwen hesitated. They missed several pairs.
"Sorry!" Gwen said. "I keep going too early."
"It's not your fault. I'm rushing," Luffy said. "Let's slow down. Try again."
They focused. Breathe. Move. Trust.
They hit the next pair perfectly.
Ava pulsed with simulated approval: "Coordination improved. Emotional bonding contributing to improved reflex sync."
Then another.
Then four more.
By the end, they were laughing, leaping together like a well-rehearsed dance.
Ava beamed. "Crew coordination level: early stage, but promising."
Luffy turned to Gwen with a grin. "Wanna see something cooler?"
"C'mon, you just bent time to slap glow balls. How do you top that?"
Luffy walked to the edge of the treehouse. "Ava, gear mode. Minimal safety protocol."
"Confirmed."
He exhaled and bounced slightly. Then, in a blur of movement, his feet compressed the platform—and he launched himself high into the air, limbs whipping like elastic ropes. He rebounded off a nearby branch, hit a wall with his heel, flipped, then landed beside Gwen with a huff.
"You just parkoured through physics," Gwen gasped.
Luffy laughed breathlessly. "That's the Devil Fruit training. Gear control is still hard. But I'm getting there."
Ava displayed a side window showing Luffy's heart rate and body elasticity metrics. "He's mastered 3-meter launches. Working on directional rebounding next."
Gwen stood. "Teach me. Maybe not the rubber part, but... the movement. The intent."
Luffy extended a hand. "Alright. Project Dawn, Day Two. Let's go."
They spent the next hour alternating between simulation drills and agility work. Gwen learned to flip, to roll, to breathe through jumps. Luffy coached her gently, never too much, never too fast.
Ava adjusted the simulation mode several times—adding target tracking, balance beams, and light-sprint circuits that reacted to their footsteps. Gwen wiped sweat from her brow and said, "This is better than gym class."
Luffy grinned. "Way more fun too."
Then came Ava's final challenge: stealth pulses.
"Move without making the sensors ping," she said. Red light lines began sweeping in slow arcs.
Gwen crouched low, crawling across the floor in silence. Luffy tried bouncing from beam to beam. They got caught a dozen times.
But eventually, they figured it out—working together, whispering cues, hand signals. Gwen even drew a chalk path on the wooden floorboards to strategize.
"Nice work, ninja duo," Ava chimed when they finally made it through without a single ping.
Once, Gwen slipped. He caught her. Their eyes met, and she laughed nervously. "Guess we still need Ava's safety net."
Ava: "Engaged at all times."
Eventually, they collapsed again, Gwen sprawled out on her back, panting. "I feel like pudding."
"Strong pudding," Luffy added.
"You know," Gwen said softly, "I used to think being a hero meant having powers."
"You don't believe that now?" Luffy asked.
"I think it's about what you do with what you've got."
He smiled. "Then you're already halfway there."
Ava projected a still image of Gwen mid-leap from earlier, her eyes shining. "Exhibit A."
Gwen flushed. "You better not post that."
"No promises," Ava teased.
As the sky turned brighter, they sat up.
"Let's do this every day," Gwen said. "Train together. Keep getting better."
Luffy nodded. "We need a name for it."
Gwen thought for a moment. "How about… Project Dawn?"
Luffy opened his sketchbook again. He drew three small figures on a sunlit rooftop—one with bright hair mid-jump, one stretching across the frame, and one glowing above them.
Beneath it, he wrote: Frame 005: Project Dawn.
Ava chimed gently. "Now we rise together."