Rosinante was twelve years old that year—just the same age as Yoriichi.
His full name was Donquixote Rosinante. That's right—he was the younger brother of Donquixote Doflamingo.
The Donquixote family once lived among the Celestial Dragons in the Holy Land of Mariejois. But Rosinante's father chose to renounce his status and relocate to an island nation in the Grand Line.
However, once the locals discovered they were ex-Celestial Dragons, they retaliated with brutal vengeance.
Stripped of their divine status, the Donquixote family was "judged" by the common people. Just as disaster was about to befall them, the young Doflamingo awakened his Conqueror's Haki.
That "natural-born demon" blamed their downfall on his father, and in cold blood, carried his father's severed head back to Mariejois, begging to be reinstated as a Celestial Dragon. He was turned away.
Rosinante, who had miraculously survived, was rescued by Sengoku—and later adopted as his foster son.
Rosinante's early life was a chaotic blend of fortune and tragedy. His idealistic, pacifist father had imparted a rare kindness to him—one that few Celestial Dragons ever possessed. The calamities he endured had dulled his innocence, but not his goodness.
Yoriichi could feel that.
Ever since meeting Rosinante, life had become a bit more colorful for Yoriichi.
Because of their age, neither of them had been formally enrolled in the Naval Academy, nor were they officially recognized as Marines.
Sengoku was fiercely protective of Rosinante, and only a handful of his closest confidants even knew the boy's true background.
Most days, Yoriichi would stay at home reading books with Rosinante. Sometimes they would wander casually around the residential quarters. Slowly, the two boys became fast friends.
And each evening, when Zephyr returned home, he would share amusing stories from the Naval Academy. As for Yoriichi's own "learning progress," Zephyr couldn't have cared less.
Those peaceful days had a rare, serene charm to them—like a fleeting return to Yoriichi's school years.
But peace doesn't last long.
Two weeks later, everything changed with the completion of the dojo.
Zephyr had commissioned it specifically for Yoriichi. Once it was finished, Yoriichi's life took a sharp turn.
"Hey! Yoriichi, Yoriichi!"
"I'm coming!"
"C'mon! Let's go! Today, I'm gonna show you what I'm made of!"
At the crack of dawn, Rosinante burst into Zephyr's house, bamboo sword in hand. The moment he stepped into the yard, he was shouting excitedly.
He'd known since yesterday that the dojo was finished, and had been itching to "teach" Yoriichi a thing or two about kendo. While he wasn't officially in the Navy, Sengoku had occasionally guided him in his training.
Rosinante did have some foundational kendo skills… though "foundational" might be generous.
"Hm?"
"Oh! It's the little brat from Sengoku's household! Hahaha—you're here!"
Just then, Zephyr emerged from a side room. It was a rare day off for the Naval Academy, and Zephyr had stayed home. With the dojo finally completed, he planned to spend the day drilling Yoriichi properly.
Seeing Rosinante dash into his house uninvited, Zephyr wasn't angry. On the contrary, he laughed heartily.
He had always been patient and affectionate with young Marines outside of training—and Rosinante, as Sengoku's foster son and a friend to Yoriichi, was no exception. In fact, he was Yoriichi's very first friend of the same age in the Navy.
"Uh—Admiral Zephyr!"
Rosinante quickly straightened up and greeted him with respectful formality. At that moment, Yoriichi emerged from his room, dressed in loose-fitting training robes.
Seeing Rosinante, a smile lit up his face. He called out cheerfully, "Hey, kid, you made it."
"Come on—let's hit the dojo!"
He'd taken to calling Rosinante "kid" affectionately. The boy was all skin and bones—hardly a match for the average child. Also, since Rosinante's identity was secret, Yoriichi had never once addressed him by name while the Navy craftsmen were constructing the dojo.
"Damn it!"
"Don't call me 'kid!' I have a name!"
Rosinante yelled, flushed with indignation. The workers were gone—only trusted people were here now, so there was no need to hide anything.
"Sure thing, kid," Yoriichi replied, grinning. Naturally, he kept using the nickname, leaving Rosinante speechless.
"Alright, get ready to be amazed! I'll show you why you shouldn't underestimate me!"
Rosinante brandished his bamboo sword energetically.
Influenced by Sengoku, his dream was to become an exceptional Marine. Ever since arriving at Marineford, he had worked hard toward that goal.
And if becoming a Marine meant mastering combat, then training was non-negotiable. When he heard Zephyr was building a dojo for Yoriichi's training, he immediately proposed that they train together and grow stronger side by side.
"Sounds good," Yoriichi said, amused by Rosinante's enthusiasm. The two entered the newly built dojo.
The dojo was spacious—nearly a hundred square meters. Aside from several bamboo swords propped against the walls, it was bare. Simple, yet perfect for Yoriichi's purposes.
Barefoot, he stepped inside, casually grabbed a bamboo sword from the wall, and gave it a few test swings. The air whistled sharply with each motion.
"Not bad," he murmured.
"Come on, kid," he called, smiling at Rosinante, who followed him in, sword in hand.
Zephyr trailed behind them and sat down cross-legged in the open space, beaming.
"I'll be your referee!"
"Do your best, both of you!"
He knew full well that Rosinante didn't stand a chance against Yoriichi—but he loved watching this sort of friendly sparring. Youthful camaraderie through competition—that was something he cherished.
Gaps in skill didn't matter. Even a huge gap could be overcome. That's what friends were for.
"Begin!" Zephyr announced in a booming voice, playing the referee in earnest.
The moment he gave the signal, Rosinante lunged in with a powerful downward swing, aiming straight for Yoriichi's head. The wind whistled violently—he wasn't holding back.
"Your footwork's sloppy, and your intent is too obvious."
"You've got a long way to go, kid."
Yoriichi immediately saw through the attack. A novice's move—no probing, no restraint, just a reckless rush with his guard wide open.
Effortlessly, he parried with a flick of his sword, then thrust forward with a clean, controlled motion—tapping the tip of his bamboo sword against Rosinante's chest.
The force was minimal. It was all technique.
Rosinante gasped and stumbled back three steps before regaining his footing.
"You're dead," Yoriichi said with a smile, like he was humoring a child.
"Again!"
Rosinante rubbed his chest, eyes gleaming.
So this guy had real skills, huh? This might actually be fun!
Ten minutes later, the fun was gone.
Rosinante had assumed Yoriichi only knew a bit of swordsmanship. Turns out, he knew a bit too much.
Every single one of Rosinante's attacks was neutralized with a single move—and countered just as quickly.
Each exchange ended the same way: one strike, and Rosinante was "dead."
Fortunately, Yoriichi was careful not to hurt him. Despite being hit repeatedly, Rosinante wasn't injured.
But being defeated in one blow, over and over? That was just demoralizing. Like playing a game where you get shot the second you spawn—where's the fun in that?
Zephyr, watching from the sidelines, couldn't stop laughing.
"Aaaaaghhhh—enough! I'm done! I can't beat you!"
"Yoriichi, you never told me you were trained in kendo! If I'd known, I wouldn't have sparred with you. This is one-sided and boring!"
After a few more minutes, Rosinante threw down his sword and collapsed onto the tatami, soaked in sweat and completely spent.
"That's it? You're giving up already?"
"Come on, get up. I haven't even warmed up yet."
Yoriichi looked down at him, exasperated. Now he understood why this kid, despite being raised by Sengoku, ended up so hopeless in the end—no Haki, no Rokushiki.
No wonder he only ever made it to the rank of Commander.
Honestly, even Tashigi from Loguetown could probably beat him.
"Nope. I can't let him slack off. He needs this training."
"I can't access Haki yet anyway, and my physical growth needs to be gradual. Might as well drag this kid along for workouts."
"That way he won't get wrecked by Vergo in the future and embarrass Sengoku's name."
"Hell, if people ever find out he trained with me and still sucked, it'd ruin my reputation—even if I don't have one yet."
(End of Chapter)