The weapons depot was towards the back of the Germa castle, next to the royal guard barracks, and what 427 thought was the labs. They'd been ordered not to speak of it, so no one ever did.
All the clones serving in the castle guard, directly under Judge and the Vinsmokes, were older and grizzled.
Perhaps the clones that survive long enough get transferred there?
Nine is probably among them too, now that I think about it.
One thing that shocked 427 was how normal the conversations were. Sure, there was still Germa glazing, but he even heard two of them talking about what to buy from the market for dinner. That's when everything clicked.
They learn, like AI.
No wonder 341 would just stare at him sometimes. He was learning, like the way kids pick up cues from their environment. Like the way babies stare at people as if they have demons inside of them.
Then where the hell did he get that sass from?
He really hadn't been fair to the clones. It seemed they were capable of thought, eventually. His perspective had just been skewed by the straight-out-the pods models. Now that he thought about it, they did cry at Sanji's "funeral", and celebrate at his wedding.
Speaking of which, I really need to figure out where in the damn timeline I am. Is Sanji still here? What year is it? Why don't they have a damn calendar in this place?
I really need to go over my knowledge from the series again. If I start forgetting things, what advantage do I have?
Still, the idea of the clones growing filled him with unease. While it would be easier to fit in amongst talkative people, them becoming more attuned to social nuance also made it easier for him to be exposed.
Still, it would be a while before that ever came into play. Until then, he was safe amongst the "babies."
As they marched towards the weaponry depot, 427 got more and more excited. He was finally stepping onto the path forward.
Stopping outside the entrance of what appeared to be a vast warehouse. The drill sergeant turned around to face them. From inside, distant clanging noises and echoes could be heard. There were noticeable waves of heat coming out as well.
Is this also where they forge them?
"Go pick a weapon. Swords and guns stay behind afterwards for specific training. Everything else, you will be provided with a manual." The drill sergeant was as eloquent as ever.
A manual? I have to learn from a manual?
As the clones walked into the sweltering, dry warehouse, they saw rows and rows of weapon racks. On the right, immediately upon entry, were swords. To the left were… vases? Explosive Laser cannons apparently, according to the sign above them. Bit of a mouthful. They were large and cumbersome, and only the bigger clones really walked towards them.
If he wasn't sure about the clones being programmed with their preferences earlier, he was now. Of the forty clones in their barracks, the vast majority of the balanced clones and dwarfs went to the swords, and all the giants went to the laser cannons.
Precisely five, including 341, headed deeper into the firearms area, presumably to find sniper rifles.
That left five, including 427, to go further into the cold weapons section. The distribution was too perfect for him to think it was unintentional. Whatever the case, it was clearly convenient for him, as he didn't stand out too much.
The coincidences were something he tried not to think about too much. If Germa really knew he was different, and was accounting for that, what could he do? One kick from nine, let alone a Vinsmoke, and he would be red paste.
Walking deeper he saw spears, maces, and other weaponry. He paused as he saw a dusty box labeled "gauntlets."
He wasn't expecting something high tech, even if the Vinsmoke quadruplets all used them as well.
Add high tech gauntlets to the list, along with devil fruits and sea king meat.
Honestly, he didn't really want them either. Okay, that was a bit of a lie, but realistically, they would hinder his growth in combat. He wasn't sure if the show was accurate to how strength increased in a fight, but he doubted random external tricks would be good for him in the long run.
It wasn't an unpopular choice. Including him, there were three clones looking at the box. It made sense, with how the commanders also used them. He raised his head, and saw the other two going for spears.
Because of Judge, most likely.
Shifting his attention back to the box, he opened it up, causing a cloud of metallic dust to billow.
Residue from the forge?
Inside were several gauntlets of varying design. One resembled wolverine's claws. Another had blades around 2 inches long at the tip of each finger.
His eyes settled on a particular one. Like the rest of the gauntlets, it was stark white - resembling their gloves - and went almost all the way up the forearm. The points of each finger were sharp, but not in an extended blade way.
The gauntlet itself looked like modernized plate armor.
It looks decent, but what the hell do I know?
Reaching into the box, he grabbed the pair he wanted.
Walking back to the exit, most of the recruits had already returned. The drill instructor looked at his choice, and nodded.
"Here," he said, handing him a small book titled Germa Style Hand Techniques.
"You're free to go for the rest of the day." With a nod, the sergeant refocused on the other recruits walking in.
Carrying the gauntlets under his left arm, he absentmindedly flipped through the book with his right. What he saw shocked him. It was a nascent soul level technique?
This is just some basic ass, swing-your-hand-this-way type shit. Are you serious?
He really needed to get that training from nine.
It wasn't that the book wasn't helpful, but how much could you really learn from a manual?
Regardless, he headed down to the training ground to practice some moves.
Pulling on the gauntlets, he squared up in front of a wooden post. He flexed his fingers a few times, feeling some slight resistance. The claws were heavy, but for a modified clone body? It was nothing.
Welp, here goes nothing.
Taking a step forward, he swung his right hand forward in a claw shape, the other hand up in a mock guard. The five gashes were satisfyingly deep, but it revealed the first problem.
The forearm and finger strength needed to maintain a clawed grasp while striking something solid was substantial. Not only that, the only claw technique in this universe he knew of, ryusoken, required immense grip strength to crush things.
Another thing to add to the table. I'll need to practice claw moves without the gauntlets too.
He would rather not have to wear the thing at all, but without haki he would have no way to block swords and the like.
Would it restrict his growth speed, like training wheels? Possibly. Would it keep him from being maimed and crippled? Also possible.
On a whim, he tensed his finger and jabbed the wood. Nothing. He'd have to figure out Shigan and Tekkai later.
The problem is, where do I train?
Every inch of the kingdom was under surveillance. If he started attempting the marine's six styles, they'd probably lock him up immediately. Not that it would happen for a long time. The level of strength needed was far beyond his current self.
If he did reach that level, he'd have to hide it, and practice while out on deployments. Those were the only "free periods" he would get.
Putting his mind back on the post, he started going through every move listed in the book. Not to perfect all of them, but just to get a feel of it.
There was the regular swipe, two-handed, and various stabs. Nothing revolutionary, just enough to make sure he wasn't slapping the post with his palm.
The idea of replicating the Raikage's Nukite stuck with him, but it was honestly useless until his strength hit superhuman levels. Still, he would try to use more stab techniques where he could.
After a few hours, he grabbed lunch and left the gauntlets in his tent. Heading to the weights, he did his whole workout regime, but with added forearm exercises. Finger curls, resistance tools, forearm curls, the works.
He wanted to rock climb, but they didn't exactly have cliffs on the back of the snails. Climbing the castle? He didn't even dignify the thought with a response.
Still, it worked. In addition to his whole body shredding itself apart, he could no longer hold his spoon properly at dinner. 341 stared at his hand as he lifted the spoon, shaking half of the contents back into the bowl.
"You…" He didn't finish his statement, just shook his head and went back to his bowl. 427 was too focused on getting the last quarter-spoonful to his mouth to ask him what he was trying to say.
After that tedious meal, he decided to stretch. He didn't see any characters doing it in the show, but honestly, a training montage where they start doing yoga? He was glad they didn't. The clone body was surprisingly flexible, possibly because the joints had zero wear on them.
Factory new!
After a surprisingly good stretch session - which he planned to continue in the future - he turned in for the night.
The next day once again brought firearms training and sparring. Firearms training gave him the pleasant surprise of the seventh ring, though he could tell further improvement would be an uphill task.
Sparring was where the fun really was. 427 didn't even bother attempting the claw techniques without the gauntlets. Instead, he focused on defense.
His last attempt at sparring against a giant clone had made him see stars. It was a sobering realization that until he got fast enough, he wouldn't always be able to dodge.
Blocking was fine, but he wasn't trying to build his body to tank hits. Instead, he focused on redirection. The only martial art in the series that had something similar was fish-man jujutsu, which wasn't even worth considering. It barely appeared in the series, compared to the more attack focused fish-man karate.
He didn't need to learn an established art, but he did want inspiration. That inspiration came from something very similar to fish-man jujutsu: Flowing Water, Crushing Rock from One Punch Man.
He wasn't sure it was replicable at the stage he was in, but wasn't Haki a pathway to abilities many consider unnatural? Half the moves in One Piece made no sense!
What kind of Haki creates a galaxy when you punch? There were stranger things out there than a blue trail following his hands.
Still, using redirection instead of brute-force blocking helped him survive more hits than expected. That was entirely because of how mechanical the clones were in their moves. Against an actual fighter, the "martial arts style" he was practicing would be like the flailing of a child.
It would take years of actual experience for it to flesh itself out into a usable technique.
After the hand to hand, it was time for dulled weapons sparring.
Pulling on some gauntlets, he faced off against a tall, lanky clone with a sword. He instantly knew he was at a disadvantage. Longer weapon, longer arms, if he could even get close enough to attack it would be a shock.
While he could probably block the sword with his gauntlets, he didn't want to get in the habit of it. Until he got armament Haki, any blade above skillful grade would go through the gauntlets like a hot knife through butter.
Yeah, they were incredibly rare, but what was he going to tell his hands if he did run into them? Sorry and goodbye? He was too attached to let them go.
With a whistle, the match started.
My only real option here is a blitzkrieg, isn't it?
He burst forward towards the opponent. He wasn't sure, but he felt a bit faster today - though, for all he knew, it could just be placebo.
The opponent instantly outed himself as a midwit by swinging vertically downward. The strike itself was textbook, nothing wrong with it, but sidestepping it was laughably easy.
Dumbass.
A horizontal swing would have been much harder to dodge, forcing him to step back or duck, interrupting the forward momentum. As it was, he continued forward.
99% of gamblers quit before they hit it big!
Throwing defense to the wind, he used both hands to lash out, like a leaping tiger.
Damn, I feel badass.
It worked, and a score of gashes opened on the clone's torso, sending it stumbling back. Just as he was about to continue, a whistle brought the match to an end.
What? That's it?
Though, upon further reckoning it made sense. If the gauntlets weren't dulled, the lanky clone would have been shredded to bits.
With a sigh of disappointment, and a wistful look up to the sky, 427 fell back in line with the rest of the clones.
The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Dinner, weight training, late night goop snack, yadda yadda yadda.
The final day of briefing was upon them. Deployment was imminent.