Heaven Has No Limit Chapter 5 - Brainrot

Where does he get such nerve?

Saint Jaygarcia Saturn walked down the luxurious Jaygarcia Estate with his cane in his hand and the rare feeling of irritation in his throat. The servants bowed as he passed, and Saturn was quick to notice that every last one of the servants was of passable attractiveness. There was a surprisingly smaller number of male servants, the majority of whom were the guards.

Ignoring the detail, he glanced at the hallway, which was once filled with the portraits of his descendants, almost all of which had been removed, and replaced with varying images of his great-grandson, Noah, all striking varying poses. One was as though he were deep in thought, in another, he was overlooking a large chasm and a canyon with a walking stick in hand, in a third, his hand was outstretched, connecting with another version of him clad in white, surrounded by baby-faced angels carrying him, as though he were, fittingly, a true, proper god.

The artistic renditions and paintings were all made recently and unique, but such was not what made Saint Jaygarcia Saturn’s throat bubble with fire. Not even the removal of the portraits of the former members of House Jaygarcia was a matter of any real import to him, as all of them had little overall worth.

Rather, as he strode down the hallway, what had him furious was the report he had only recently received about the brief altercation between Sommers and his great-grandson three months ago. A report, which he had discovered, had led to his great-grandson Noah withdrawing from the public eye completely.

Saturn’s spies within the home informed him that the boy had not emerged from his constructed training room, not once, since returning. His meals had been brought to him directly there, passed through a hole he had installed on giant doors reportedly replaced with solid steel. Everything was passed through that space: his letters, messages, and even lessons.

In the report, Guernika, an agent of CP0, had taken up the role of being his great-grandson’s eyes, ears, and voice in lieu of his absence. What had Saturn even more displeased was that this CP0 Agent had been, reportedly, under Noah’s instructions, ordering around a Marine Vice Admiral and getting her to perform meaningless errands and fetch tasks for the King of the Germa Kingdom, all under Noah’s instructions to perform some project.

The Vice Admiral had complained to the Fleet Admiral, who had in turn questioned whether he was aware of anything regarding the topic, which Saint Saturn had not been. He had not even known that Noah was acquainted with Vinsmoke Judge. However, he pretended as though such a thing had his blessings and full support, because he would never side with an insect over his own flesh and blood.

Saturn wanted the boy to develop on his own before interfering, but he was concerned about the newfound isolation and was curious as to what exactly the boy was planning that required one of the world’s top scientists in Vinsmoke Judge. That man was high on the World Government’s watchlist along with all the former members of MADS. As the War God of Science, Saturn was well aware of the man’s capabilities, but he had not known his great-grandson was as well.

The truest reason for his irritation, however, was that he had heard Saint Sommers had given an instruction regarding the rumors spreading about his great-grandson and tasked Noah to address them, in what was all but a threat.

How dare he…?

Saturn did not know if this matter was related to Noah’s decision to isolate himself, and it was for that reason that he was going to make a first, formal introduction to his descendant.

“Open the doors.”

Standing in front of the giant, solid steel doors that had the words Limit Breaking Room atop them, Saturn, with both hands placed in front of him on his walking stick, gave the command to the guards.

“Yes, Saint!”

Three servants rushed forward, each one grabbing the large handles of the doors and pulling with all their might. 

Hm?

A minute passed, and another, and a third. Two more servants joined in, trying to pull the door as much as they could, only to falter as well. Five more joined in, all of them huffing and puffing and wheezing, yet the doors did not so much as budge.

“...What is the meaning of this?”

“S-Saint, this door—” One of the maidservants curtsied as she stood before him. “Saint Noah… had it built by the Fishman Slaves he collected. Even then, it took sixty-six of them to carry it and to install it.”

Saint Saturn remembered a vague report about that. His great-grandson had put out some game to find some Fishman or the other, and thus, the slaves of that race were delivered to him by the dozen. Clearly, he had used them to the fullest.

“Move aside.”

The guards and servants hurriedly retreated as Saint Saturn stepped forward. His hand reached toward the door and pushed.

Hm?

The weight was immense. Immense, even for him. He wagered that one would need strength surpassing a hundred of those Fishmen to be able to open it. Given that those lesser beings had physical strength in greater proportions than the average human, it was outright impossible for any normal human to open the door.

However, Saint Saturn was no ordinary human.

“Hmph!”

With the Color of Armament coating across his hand, he pushed. The door trembled. Air rushed in through a narrow gap smaller than the size of a stray, but then, the door, as if resisting the effort, did not budge even a bit further.

Hm? Not enough?

Saint Saturn had eaten a Mythical Zoan fruit. The overall boost such a thing gave to his strength was by no means minor, even in his old age. He had added Armament Haki atop that, and yet, it was not enough to get the door to open?

What trickery is this?

Saint Saturn took a step back and glanced at the door, and the door slammed with enough force to create a small shockwave that sent the servants and guards behind him reeling and careening over. The longer Saint Saturn stared at the door, the odder he found it. It appeared to be made of industrial-strength, fine stainless steel, but the strength required to open such a thing should have been absolutely nowhere near this much.

No material to his knowledge was this strong.

A crackling noise came from a broadcast-model Den-Den Mushi attached to the wall beside the door, and a voice followed.

“What do you want, Old Man?”

Saturn’s brow lifted. Old man?

“I’m currently in training. If there’s something you need from me, we can talk.”

Saturn had countless questions, amongst which was a desire to chastise the brat for his tone, but, rather than that, there was a sense of curiosity.

“That door. What is it made of?”

“Steel. What else?”

“Steel cannot be that strong.”

“It’s powered by brainrot.”

Saint Saturn lifted a brow. “What?”

“I meant hydraulics,” the boy said. “Do you know what a hydraulic press is?”

Hydraulics? He slowly stroked his chin. “And this makes the door hard to open… how? Explain.”

“Explain? Old Man, I’m not a— this is why I stopped bothering with the tutors. They were supposed to be the ones teaching me, but they kept asking me to explain things, even the dumbest, stupidest of things…”

Saint Saturn recalled those reports. He had heard, early on, from the boy’s tutors, that his great-grandson was a genius. An actual genius. In fact, Saint Saturn, too engrossed in the details of the boy’s Haki of the Supreme King, took for granted the fact that Noah could talk, walk, and move about from as early as two years old. It was something that was indeed the sign of a prodigy.

However, Noah was also a genius, reportedly, in varying fields of research, science, and technology. According to the tutors, the boy had unique concepts and ideas and a grasp of scientific notions that they had not heard of. That was not even getting into the claims of the boy’s mastery of the Rokushiki Arts at an age never before seen.

“Water doesn’t like being squished, Old Man. Take that concept and add a bit of tiny tunnels, and we can amp up the amount of force we can create to crush something… or open something. There’s a bunch of bolts sitting in a closed water chamber. If you try to move them, the water’s got nowhere to go, so there’s major resistance. It’s a hydro-lock.”

Saturn went quiet.

“...Did you come up with this yourself?”

“Who else?”

Saturn stared at the door for a long, long time in silence. He had lived a long time, but this was a first. A true, proper, genuine first.

“Why?”

“To train. Once I can open that door with one hand, I’ll come out.”

Saturn was perplexed. He had received reports about Noah’s odd obsession with training, pushing his body beyond its physical limits, but this went beyond his understanding. The level of strength required to do what he was asking was inhuman, even for the varying inhuman insects in the world. He doubted even a Giant could perform such a task.

“To what end?”

“Power.”

The answer was frank, and it was refreshing. Oddly simple and straightforward.

“There are easier ways to attain power. A Devil Fruit, for instance.”

“I don’t want power given to me. I want power that can’t be taken away at the whim of chance, nature, or by others.”

Saturn shivered. His breath hitched in his throat.

Power that can’t be taken away.

The words almost had Saturn trembling. He checked for a moment if that gaze was on him, but as he did not feel it with his Observation Haki, he knew the words had not brought His attention.

However, those words struck something in his chest. Something terrifying.

“And your alleged correspondence with the King of the Germa Kingdom? Is that also a ploy for power?”

“More or less.”

Saint Saturn stroked his chin.

“And regarding the task given to you by Saint Sommers?”

“You can handle it, can’t you, Old Man?”

This brat…

“Do you expect me to clean up after you?”

“I expect you not to want to lose face by having your descendant executed.”

“You’re mistaken if you believe such a thing affects me.”

“Does that mean the Shepherd Family dogwalks us whenever they want?”

“They do not. Nor can they.”

“Like I said… You don’t want to lose face. All gods are equal, but some gods are more equal than others.” 

Saturn blinked. Saturn chuckled. The boy had no idea just how true those words were.

“...But, I’ve got someone on it, just in case.”

“That CP0 Agent, I suppose?”

“He’s a good attack dog. He follows orders properly.”

Saturn’s lips twitched. Without a word, he turned around.

“You’re leaving?”

“Speaking to you in this manner has lost its charm,” he struck his walking stick on the ground. “Come meet me once you leave. I’ll test the merits of your… training personally. If it is dissatisfactory, I’ll have you select a Devil Fruit to consume.”

“I already said I don’t want a—”

“You garnered Saint Sommers’ attention. Either you prove you do not need one, or I will force you to eat one to avoid embarrassing yourself if need be.”

Saturn paused.

“I also wish to know the outcome of this project of yours with the Germa Kingdom’s King.”

“...Why?” 

“Any project that requires you to send people to retrieve items from Impel Down must have its merits. You are being praised as a genius by many already. I wish to see how true such claims are.”

Saturn departed without another word. Their first meeting had not gone at all as he had expected, nor anticipated, yet, Saturn could not say he was displeased.

This descendant of his, he truly, really, was a fascinating child. 

=====)+(=====

How did he know?

A giant steel tank stood in the center of a laboratory within the Germa Kingdom, and within it was a floating project, currently in a gestational period. The project did not require oxygen from a mask, as other clones did, given its Fishman origins, which ensured it could derive oxygen directly from the water around it. Quietly, Vinsmoke Judge clutched at the paper in his hand, the notes that had been stuffed into the mouth of a dead Fishman, and trembled at the information within it.

How did he know?

He had thought that the Saint was asking the impossible when he first read the information about the project, but the further Vinsmoke Judge read, and the crazier he found the request, the more logical the request sounded. 

Three of the things on the list alone were not things he had the authority to obtain himself, and were it not for Vice Admiral Tsuru going to Impel Down on his behalf and acquiring bits and pieces of blood and genetic material of the specific individuals and inmates mentioned, he would have had a much harder time succeeding. 

However, when one had the backing of a Celestial Dragon, and thus, the power and resources of the entirety of the Marines at one’s disposal, things which should be hard to get, if not outright impossible to obtain, no longer became a problem of difficulty, but of time.

Without Vice Admiral Tsuru and without the Saint’s personal word, which opened all channels, Vinsmoke Judge doubted six months would have been enough. He doubted six years would have been enough.

How did he know?

In the same chamber, another giant vat existed, and inside it was the Armored Stonefish, notorious for its poison, which could kill even a giant in minutes. In another vat, a large glob of corrosive, purple liquid, containing varying poisons, as well as the Lineage Factor and information of a man known as Magellan, serving currently as a Vice Warden in Impel Down. In another, was blood forcibly acquired from a notorious prisoner in Impel Down, with a Devil Fruit ability, and in yet another chamber, was a Devil Fruit that had taken considerable effort to hunt down and obtain, the Shiku Shiku no Mi.

All of these chambers connected directly to the central one, to the grand project growing, and successfully so. There was the crux of it. What Vinsmoke Judge still failed to understand was how Saint Jaygarcia Noah knew this experiment would be successful.  No one, not that fool Dr. Vegapunk, nor that buffoon Cesar Clown, would have ever dreamed that what he was about to create was possible. So how?

How did he know?

Vinsmoke Judge sought answers, yet in that regard, he found no luck. Celestial Dragons were not pirates, and they were not marines, and they were not common, ordinary thugs whose information could be bought by the highest bidder. Several of his contacts in the Underworld had almost blacklisted him entirely just for inquiring about a Celestial Dragon, and many had outright cut ties with him, fearing for their own safety in doing so, because they were aware that CP0 and the Marines monitored any topic to do with the Gods.

The information Vinsmoke Judge had been able to unearth was frighteningly little, and beyond a name and age, he knew absolutely nothing else of the child who had become his patron, besides the fact that perhaps that child was a genius of the likes the world had never before seen since Dr. Vegapunk himself.

His understanding of the concept of the Lineage Factor was terrifyingly accurate, though he had no understanding of why the boy kept referring to such things as DNA in the letter. Albeit lacking significantly the finer scientific detail and terminology, and many postulations were crudely explained, as though he had only been given surface-level or introductory-tier information on the matter, his ideas were revolutionary both in conception and abstraction.

Some things, Vinsmoke Judge did not understand and needed to infer through context, but once he did, they were terrifyingly accurate. The child was a genius, and he had a genius mind and a genius education, no doubt, because whereas the vast majority of the world did not even know what the Lineage Factor was, this child was already forming ideas as to what it could do. Judge had been part of the team that discovered it. He, alongside Dr. Vegapunk, had been the ones pioneering this never-before-seen field of science, yet this child seemed to have already not only discovered what it was, what it did, but also provided a large list of potential possibilities applicable for its utilization, many of which made Vinsmoke Judge break out in cold sweat.

How did he know?

The boy mentioned methods using names that Vinsmoke Judge had never found. One, for example, he called the Methuselah Method, required the use of clones as ‘backups’ to store information and thus allow for a form of functional immortality. It even cited the potential applications of something like the Soru Soru no Mi or Kage Kage no Mi to eject souls and shadows from a body, and forcibly make individuals make a recurrent payment called a subscription to allow them to exist in their own body. Another, he called the Silverhand Survival, theorized creating something called an ‘engram’ of an individual using their Lineage Factor, which could be inserted directly into a host body and assimilate it, taking it over as though it were a virus. 

The theories alone made Judge have countless sleepless nights and made him wake up from sleep drenched in cold sweat. What sort of mind could conjure such a thing? What sort of person could envision such methods? What type of brain was capable of formulating these ideas?

That alone, the notes on possibilities of cybernetic augmentation by first ‘feeding’ a Devil Fruit to a prosthetic limb and then surgically implanting that limb into a body. Thus, one would have the benefits of being a Devil Fruit User, but, theoretically, without necessarily the downsides of an inability to swim. 

It was true that Devil Fruits could be ‘eaten’ by objects… but that was something that Dr. Vegapunk had only just theorized was possible. Dr. Vegapunk had first posited the possibility during their time at MADS together, but he had only just, mere weeks ago, published a theory that suggested that it could feasibly be done. Meanwhile, this child was already ahead, aware that it was feasible, and suggesting transplanting that Devil Fruit-empowered object? 

Even madder, the notes had gone as far as to predict potential possibilities of a body’s rejection of the implants, and advised the creation of immunosuppressants to prevent an individual with such implants from going ‘psycho.’

Just the ideas alone were centuries ahead of anything Vinsmoke Judge thought possible, and they just kept coming. 

Biometric verification….

Lineage Factor as a Storage Mechanism…

Lineage Factor Copy Protection to prevent unauthorized cloning…

Lineage Factor Watermarking, adding ‘bar codes’ to enable permanent tracking… 

Lineage Factor hacking and targeting, creating room for the development of biological warfare…

Vinsmoke Judge left the room and left the experiment gestating. He walked down the corridors of his lab, towards the most heavily protected region, where three guards stood on interchanging shifts, and walked into a room where the pristine white Den-Den Mushi he had kept in a sealed case, carefully protected as though it were his most priceless treasure.

Three months ago, Vinsmoke Judge dreaded the task he was given and had been thinking of how to avoid being blackmailed and threatened by a Celestial Dragon. But now?

Now, Vinsmoke Judge would do anything for this boy to call him, to share more of his ideas with him, to provide him with more information, concepts, theories, and things that Vinsmoke Judge could never have fathomed, and that brought a newfound spark to his passions both as a scientist and as a King.

With just half of the information already given, half of the ideas, putting some of them into practice would make the Germa Kingdom be on its way to being the most technologically advanced Kingdom in all Four Blues, if not the world. Vinsmoke Judge was like a blind man who had been given sight; he was like an astronomer gazing into the stars and then receiving a message from beyond, from above, divine inspiration poured and anointed upon him directly.

…How did he know?

It was as if the child had lived a different life, as though he had come from the far future, and thus saw things in a manner no one else did and no one else possibly could. For the first time, he had Vinsmoke Judge truly believing it—

Believing that the Celestial Dragons were gods.

How?

At the end of that letter that had been inside the Fishman’s mouth, there had been a line saying, no matter what, Vinsmoke Judge was not to contact him until he was successful with the project. A line saying, if he wanted to know more, if he sought more, then he had to first offer a ‘tribute’ as proof of his sincerity, and stated that only one thing would be accepted as tribute. 

Departing from the room, Vinsmoke Judge called his eldest child and only daughter into his private study and spoke frankly to her.

“...I have an important mission for you, Reiju.”

“A mission, father?”

“One you must begin training for, and one that only you can perform.”

He cherished his daughter; that was true. However, between creating a legacy and keeping a daughter, Vinsmoke Judge knew which was more important. No scientist would ever give up their thirst for knowledge, and no King, none who would ever be remembered in history, would place their daughter’s happiness above the future of their Kingdom.

Vinsmoke Judge was going to monopolize him. He was going to make an investment early and throw all his chips behind this child. He was certain, truly, that Saint Jaygarcia Noah—

He would be the one to shape this Era.

=====)+(=====

Within the Limit Breaking Room, Noah idly watched through the visual Den-Den-Mushi as the Old Man, Saint Saturn left, and he turned his attention back to the door, which had actually been moved just a little bit.

That old man’s got some serious fucking juice…

One of Noah’s viral videos was called Hydraulic Press vs Starving African Children. The title had been clickbait, clearly, and the thumbnail had been a clickbait picture of ten crying African kids placed under a giant hydraulic press. The children weren’t really starving, though. Noah had given them all a Happy Meal during shooting. That was just to ragebait some idiots to pour into the comment section and drive up his engagement.

Noah got the inspiration from the endless videos of a hydraulic press crushing shit. Watermelons, action figures, toys, candles, balloons, bullets, rubber-band balls, bowling balls, and more and more. For whatever reason, people really loved fucking watching a Hydraulic Press crush things. It made the monkey-brain really, really happy.

Well, brainrot had been the word of the year for a fucking reason...

Noah took that idea and turned it on its head, having a bunch of kids try to compete against a Hydraulic Press in a ‘break shit’ contest. Who could break stuff faster, a machine outputting ridiculous amounts of force, or kids desperate to escape poverty?

Spoiler: the Hydraulic Press won.

The content he made wasn’t supposed to be surprising; all it needed was to gather views, and that was what it did. No one in their right mind would think a bunch of African Children would outperform a hydraulic press, but they’d still click on that video because, well, what if they fucking did? Wouldn’t that be something to see?

The problem with that particular video had demanded him to get access to Hydraulic Press, and most sane, reasonable, and responsible owners of one absolutely would never let him borrow one. He’d been too much of a cheapskate at the time to buy one outright, so ultimately he ended up getting a bunch of crackpot redneck engineers to build one for him from scratch for payment in pizza, weed, and beer. However, because they were crackpot redneck engineers, Noah had to study a bunch of unnecessary things about hydraulic engineering to make sure the machine was functional, because he didn’t absolutely trust they wouldn’t fuck up the construction job, given how baked they were for most of it.

To think all that boring shit I learnt in school about Pascal’s Law would actually be useful in real life… 

Noah stretched his arms, took a deep breath, and waved his hand about in the air, performing a bunch of Tai Chi motions. Slowly, then, he inhaled and watched as a tiny droplet of water accumulated from the moisture in the air and floated between his palms. Gently, he made a finger-gun motion and then aimed for a steel target in the center of the pool.

“Noah Style Karate: Glock.”

CRACK!

The droplet of water shot out, shattering the sound barrier, connecting dead center in the middle of the solid steel target and piercing through it. It sped onwards, impacting against the seastone reinforced walls and leaving a clear, clean hole straight through it, and flying off to only god knows where.

Noah grinned.

He had always known humans could learn Fishman Karate, because he remembered Nico Robin was both capable of it as was the ex-slave, Koala. Thus, with many, many Fishman slaves that were brought to him in his search for Fisher Tiger, he had always asked if they knew Fishman Karate, and asked what Dan they were. If they did, he would ask them to fully write, draw, and describe all techniques they knew and everything they understood about the Martial Art, before he set them aside for future use. If they didn’t know any Fishman Karate, their usefulness would end, there and then.

In that manner, the information he had about it slowly accumulated, from beginner levels, the lowest Dan, to those of higher and higher levels, painting a fuller picture of the entire martial art. 

Noah had dabbled in MMA. It was unavoidable, given the sheer number of people who had wanted to kick his teeth in given the chance, and given the sort of controversial individuals he had collaborations with, and given the amount of cocky shits who kept saying they’d beat his ass if they ever met him in person. It was almost a rite of passage for every controversial content creator to make an MMA appearance. He was no top-tier fighter, by any means, but he knew just enough to get by.

Thus, he wasn’t starting from absolute zero when learning Fishman Karate. Combining the knowledge he had with what he already knew was possible from his metaknowledge?

He could be considered a ‘self-taught’ Martial Arts Master.

What surprised Noah was that Fishman Karate was a ‘fluid’ style, which was designed to allow the incorporation of the different sub-types and specialties of the Fishmen, just as how Rokushiki was also capable of being altered depending on the Devil Fruit Abilities of the user, such that each individual had their own unique ‘styles.’

In other words, he could use both simultaneously and combine their strengths. He was likely, perhaps, the first and only Rokushiki and Fishman Karate dual-user in the world.

Together, they formed the basis of his own, unique Martial Arts Method:

Noah Style.

His first successful technique was using Shigan to amplify the force of a traditional projectile, the Uchimizu, or Water Shot, used by Hody Jones and Jinbe, which created what would be his newfound signature move:

Glock.

The power was enough to punch through both steel and seastone with ease, and the speed was supersonic, surpassing Mach 2, meaning it was outright impossible to evade without Observation Haki, or without being fast enough to dodge modern-era bullets.

With Observation Haki, people can sense it coming… because Observation Haki is such bullshit that lets people fight against someone who moves at the speed of light… 

What I need is to figure out a way to curve the shot and add variables to it…

Noah was going to pull a Wanted and learn how to curve the path of the projectile. More than that, however, Fishman Karate relied on using the water in one’s surroundings in varying ways, and Noah had no shortage of ideas available.

In addition, Noah was working his way up to learning Fishman Jujutsu.

Fishman Karate and Fishman Jujutsu were separate martial arts, as the former relied on striking, while the latter relied on throws and grabbing, and was basically the difference between karate and judo.

These Fishmen are fucking waterbenders… 

Water was the one thing that was overabundant in this world, as the sea was the greatest weakness of all Devil Fruit users. The fact that there was an entire Martial Art dedicated to manipulating water, yet no one had thought about how this was such a hard counter to neg most enemies, was something Noah would never understand.

“Rerorerorerorero.”

Noah turned towards a White Den-Den Mushi and moved to grab it.

“Is it done, Guernica?”

“Yes, Saint Noah. The slaves worked quickly. They found three girls from the Isle of Women, and they match the description you gave.”

“Good. Kill the rest.”

“...Saint?”

“Any slave spreading word about me being the Saint of Liberation. Kill them,” Noah paused. “About a few hundred or so should do. Make sure you tell them exactly why they are being killed, and tell the rest to stop spreading those rumors. They must know. Got it?”

“As you command, Saint Noah.”

Noah cut off the call, letting out a breath.

Fucking Sommers. Wanting to aura check me? 

Noah grinned.

Don’t you know, the fastest way to make something spread is to try to cover it up? Ever heard of the fucking Streisand Effect, you pimp-ass fuck?

What Saint Sommers wanted was for him to put an end to the rumors, but Noah really, really did not like bastards telling him what to do. So, on the surface, he was going to do just what he asked, all while giving the man the middle finger, and allowing the rumors to spread bigger and bigger. However, if asked, he would point his finger and say, ‘Look! I killed the slaves spreading it! I don’t want it to spread, but, oh no, what else can I do? Help me, senpai! Boo-hoo!’

At that point, bothering him about the matter further would look bad on Sommers and appear either personally or politically motivated and look like nothing other than a man bullying a child, because after all, Noah had, on the surface, really tried to put an end to it. 

I used to work retail before I blew up, asshole. I could write a How-To-Guide on Malicious Compliance.

If you look up ‘Plausible Deniability’ in the dictionary... you’d see ME!

However, to avoid any unnecessary complications, Noah had let the Old Man, Saint Saturn, be aware of the matter. He got to know his stance on it. Fortunately, that tribal brained Us Vs Them mentality still worked even for the geezer, and in this case, the Us was the Jaygarcia Family, and the them was the Shepherd Family. No doubt, he didn’t want someone from the Shepherd Family flexing on his own family members, which meant, if push came to shove, Noah knew the Old Man had his back.

But the geezer wants to aura check me as well… 

Well, he’s going to be in for a fucking surprise…

Noah would only use Rokushiki openly for now. He wanted his training on the Noah Style to remain a secret, hence the big-ass door and the privacy. He didn’t want to let all his cards be put on display too early. Which was why his side-project with Vinsmoke Judge was important as a good smoke-and-mirror. 

Until the Noah Style was properly refined, he would keep it as close to his chest as possible.

Once he learned Fishman Jujutsu, stacked it atop Fishman Karate, and atop Rokushiki, then added in Haki, his Noah Style would be elevated to the absolute pinnacle.

It would, without a doubt, be the Greatest Mixed Martial Art of All Time.

Worthy of the GOAT.