A/N: Between last update and this one had to go take the Submarine from Guam → Hawaii → Continental U.S.A. So that was fun. (Not Really). But I'm back now. Boat's gonna be in shipyard for a good long while so hopefully there won't be any more unplanned multi-month hiatuses.
Chapter 27
'Mist. Why is there always foggy-ass goddamn mist on nights like this?' Lieutenant Treacy clicked his tongue in annoyance. He's always hated standing lookout. Ever since his first week when he signed up with the Marines all those years ago. He couldn't stand it.
The waitin'. The roving up and down the ship, straining his eyes to look for something suspicious on the horizon that ain't ever there. Not that he even could see the horizon right now. What with all this late-night early-morning gods damned fog blocking his view. He'd have better luck trying to peer through a glass of milky water than see through this shit.
Normally he'd try and pass the time commiserating with the other poor souls who were awake and patrolling along with him. Not an option that was allowed tonight unfortunately. Not with everyone so rigid and high strung due to word that an enemy fleet was 'supposedly' heading this way. How he wished he could be like the others below decks, getting some last minute rest in before a possibly massive engagement.
The minutes tick by at a sluggish crawl until they've somehow turned into a few hours. It's just long enough that the first thin line of sun is discernible through the low-hanging clouds that Treacy thinks that just maybe his whole watch will have passed without incident..when a shadow appears among the mist.
The lieutenant leans across the brow, narrowing his eyes at the slightly darker blob in the blanket of white and grey. "...the hell is that?"
~...the sea be ours, and by the powers,~
~Where we will, we'll roam.~
Treacy slowly rears back, eyes widening as one shadow becomes dozens and the low rumbling of ten thousand voices singing together in bass and baritone manages to roll across the water.
~Yooooo, ho, aaaaall hands,~
~Hoist the colours hiiiigh,~
Up in the crows nest the alarm bell starts to sound as the sentry slams it back and forth.
~Heeeaaave ho, thieves and beggars,~
~Neeeever shall we diiieee,~
"Battlestations!" The word jumps from the officers mouth as an almost unconscious reflex. "All hands awake! Battlestations!"
~Yooooo, ho, haaaul togetheeerr,~
~Hoist the colours hiiiigh,~
Slyvaada Kingdom, Jack's Hotel Room
Like most people before they lay their head down each night I have my own evening ritual that I typically go through. It's nothing special. Might even be something quite similar to your own. It starts with a shower if that's available. Some may prefer to push that off until morning comes but I've always found it helps me sleep better to get a good scrub in before my head hits the pillow.
Next comes the dental care. Toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, a token amount of flossing that the dentists of my first life had beaten into me, you know how it goes. Then I'd fill a large bottle of water, throw a couple ice cubes in there, and set it by my bedside for when I inevitably wake up parched the next morning with a throat drier than the Sahara. The final step was to, of course, plug in the trusty ever faithful cell phone to get all charged up and enable an alarm to wake me bright and early in case the circadian rhythm fails.
Though sometimes I would forget that last bit.
Now obviously since arriving in this One Piece world I've had to tweak that routine a little. Not drastically mind you, the same skeletal outline is there, but it's different nonetheless. I still get to shower often enough, though there's quite the number of days where I end up camping outside on an island somewhere snoozing alongside Kiwi. Dental care is mostly unchanged. I carry the supplies with me everywhere in the hammerspace so there's no excuse not to use 'em. The water bottle's been replaced with a canteen and -unless I'm staying in a big city hotel like I did last night- I typically have to go without the small luxury that is ice.
But why the hell am I telling you all this? In what way does it possibly matter? It matters because of the very last part. The setting out of the phone. The part that I... sometimes would forget.
It's much easier to have it slip your mind here as opposed to on Earth. For one a Den-Den-Mushi is obviously not really comparable to a modern Earth cell phone. The snail isn't a distraction that can keep you awake into the wee hours past midnight. It can't play you a dumb internet video before you shut your eyes. It has no clock, no alarm, no anything really.
It's just a phone...that also happens to be a snail. It eats lettuce and it calls people. That's... all it does.
I do try and remember to take it out of the [Inventory] each night. You need to have people be able to reach you in case of emergency, even if that is something that only occurs in the tiniest fraction of a fraction of total nights.
So let me tell ya, when I woke up well-rested and refreshed to a half-dozen notifications telling me that I had forgotten once again... boy did I feel like there was egg on my face.
Alert! Your [Den-Den-Mushi] is ringing!
Alert! Your [Den-Den-Mushi] is ringing!
Alert! Your [Den-Den-Mushi] is ringing!
Alert! Your [Den-Den-Mushi] is ringing!
Alert! Your [Den-Den-Mushi] is ringing!
Alert! Your [Den-Den-Mushi] is ringing!
I blink away the last bits of sleep from my eyes and slowly toss the blanket aside to sit up in bed.
'Damn...six missed calls? The hell did I miss?'
Hours Later, Near the Isle of Mirifield
A stream of wind nearly dislodges me from Kiwi's back as we hover over the conflict below. My Sparrow flaps his wings twice, reasserting his position in the sky, and we're finally stable enough for me to look down properly at the two fleets currently shredding each other to pieces.
I raise the scope to my right eye, close the left, and all I see is...
Chaos.
A man with two hatchets and a scorpion tail brutalizes his way across the deck of a smaller Marine ship. Hacking away at the lower enlisted with bloodstained axes until a well aimed bullet finally splatters his grey matter across the floor.
Screeches of the dying cry out from a pirate vessel where both ship and crew are being slowly consumed by a growing rot of mold and multi-colored fungi. A single marine officer stands alone in the carnage, his palms spread wide as more and more spores populate off his skin.
A goliath-sized golem of green gelatin stomps around, swiping widely at those foolish enough to not flee from its range. Bullets and cannonballs continually pepper its surface but none seem to do any real damage as the projectiles simply sink past the constructs surface layer and get suspended in the inner goo.
The air is absolutely drowning in the sounds of swords clashing and small arms firing. When I called Mori in a worried panic after first waking he informed me the ships had been thankfully keeping their distance. Each fleet trying to weaken the other through cannons and other long-range armaments. Clearly that fell apart at some point while I was in transit. It can't have been too long ago either because a meat-grinder of this size is not capable of lasting for hours on end. Not with the rate the hordes of fodder are smashing into each other and littering the ground with bodies.
Like good god is it a fustercluck down there. It's like watching a miniature Marineford unfold right in front of me. I wouldn't be surprised if half the Devil Fruits in South Blue showed up to play.
Oh well. You know how the saying goes. In for a penny…
I dive off Kiwi's back and begin rocketing downwards to the nearest two vessels that have pulled up broadside against each other. One final pre-battle breath inflates the lungs in my chest and I feel my skin tighten as I draw upon the partial shielding of [Tekkai Kenpo]. It'll be a pretty big limiter on my speed but I'm just not comfortable going down there sans protection when so many bullets are flying in every fucking direction.
My boots slam down in the middle of two contestants charging each other and both visibly stagger back at my sudden intrusion. Both [Bullet Time] and [HP Regen] kick on from the minuscule fall damage and I dart my head between the two's titles.
A level 17 Chief Petty Officer amusingly named 'Cook' versus a level 14 Hornigold Pirate who's name I really couldn't give a shit about. To me he's just one of the thousands of grunts in the Sponge-Mans employ.
In truth, the Chief's... probably got this one handled.., but that doesn't stop me from rushing the pirate and spin-kicking him so hard his entire body goes spiraling. Two of the mans similarly-leveled cohorts run at me with sabers raised and it's frighteningly easy to catch their hands, twist their wrists until a terrible snap occurs, and then toss them aside like yesterdays trash.
With that done -and unfortunately not a drop of Exp to show for it- I give the somewhat gobsmacked Chief a quick nod and move on.
Today's gonna be a long day.
"Come on! Come on! Don't give up yet hahahaha!" Chevill cackled as his opponents strength began to falter. The cheap common-grade steel of the marines sword wriggled in the navy mans grip as it failed to hold back the ex-hunters much larger saw-like blade and soon the NCO was being pressed to one knee. "No no no...and you were doing so well too!"
The already bloodstained spike at the edge of Chevill's weapon made surface contact with the marines shoulder and that spelled the end of one mans desperate struggle. A small wince of pain and a sucking in of breath resulted in a small but critical weakening of an already crumbling defense. The spike drove deeper, allowing the rest of the jagged weapon to follow shortly thereafter and.. after a brief but nasty sound of flesh giving way.. that was the end of that.
"Pfeh," The 15 million Beri bounty hoisted his bloody weapon over his shoulder and spat to the side. "How annoying. Really thought that one would end up having some fight in 'im."
"Pardon me, Captain sir." His head lackey and weapons porter cleared his throat from behind him. "The ship is cleared. The men are wondering what is to be done with the supplies down in the hold."
Chevill stretched his neck out while running a gloved hand over his slicked back hair. "Leave 'em. Sadly there's no time for plunder right now. Rig some barrels and get ready to blow this carrack into driftwood. This was fun an' all but its time to sneak away and hole up somewhere low while everyone's preoccupied. With a bit of luck, whoever wins this bloody mess will be too busy with the aftermath to realize we dipped out early."
His porter shifted uncomfortably, the oversized knapsack of tools on his back rattling lightly as he did so. "Are you sure that's the wisest option sir? If Hornigold notices-"
"Do I pay you to backchat!" The pirate snapped with a sudden heated sideways stare. "Don't forget that just because you're ranked marginally above the other toadies in my employ that-"
A pain exploded in his side.
A powerful bludgeoning force that not only silenced whatever remained of his threat but actually lifted his feet off the ground before he even had time to register what was happening. The 20 or so seconds that followed were naught but a ringing white haze to the once upon a time bounty hunter. There was air rushing by. The world spinning. Stomach acid filled his throat. A sharp crack had his back screaming from suddenly bruised vertebrae. Did he crash into something? A mast maybe?
He pushed past the burning throb still screaming from his left side and managed to raise his head. Just enough of the white haze clearing from his head to recognize the whirlwind of a human tearing through his subordinates at the aft of the ship.
"Oh fuck me.."
His mumble was a soft one, definitely heard by none but himself, and yet it coincided perfectly with Jack fucking Sparrow spinning his head in Chevill's direction and narrowing his eyes.
"...knew this shit would end up.." he paused to cough up some blood while shakily forcing himself to his feet. "..being a terrible idea. Fuckin' Sponge-Man..never should have listened.."
Three gunshots blew small holes in his chest and the last thing Chevill the 'Bane of Zagoth' ever heard as his body slumped down again was his killer muttering some nonsense about a billion counter finally being 3/5ths of the way done.
"Well.." Curren starts with a tense grin. "Lets say you take the 10 on the left… while I try an' deal with the 10 on the right. That sound like a fair shake to you?" The Warrant Officer chuckles nervously, trying to hide with a joke how utterly screwed the two of them are.
Mori grips his sword tighter at the words of his long-time comrade. Part of him wants to crack a joke at their misfortune as well, to bark one of his signature short laughs, but even a distraction as small as that seems like it'd be too risky a gambit at the moment.
Holy fuck are they in trouble.
Mori had fought a Devil Fruit-user before. Well, he helped at least. Jack had handled the brunt of dealing with Jorgen both in and out of his old superior's Orangutan form. With the exceptions of one really solid assist involving a cannon, plus a smaller one with a sword, Mori mostly just served as a distraction that got uselessly battered around.
That was months ago. He was weaker then. Stagnant in his post. Just a small branch's Chief instead of a Master Chief with a slowly growing ambition. Curren, his longtime sparring partner standing next to him was a Master Chief instead of a Warrant Officer. They'd both pushed their physical training to new heights these last couple quarters. Every day a little faster. Every week a little tougher.
Yes it was certain. He was definitely stronger now than he had been back then.
So why did the second Devil Fruit-user he ever encountered seem like such a harder mountain to climb than the first?
The sallow, sickly looking man before them made another small grunt of exertion and a 21st and 22nd person joined the gathering crowd surrounding them.
Well. Sort of. In truth they seemed closer to mannequins or perhaps puppets than actual people. The skin shade was slightly off. A bit too pale and wooden to pass off as a convincing fake. Their blank eyes and expressionless demeanor's were more off-putting than threatening in Mori's opinion but that didn't change the fact that there was nearly two dozen of them now.
'Scratch that.' Mori thought grimly as numbers 23 and 24 just walked out of their opponents body, seemingly manifesting from nothing.
"...I don't really care for conflict." The user of the Doppel-Doppel Fruit spoke with a sour look, appearing all around just unhappy to be there. "And I'm really not all that talented with my power..." The melancholic man continued before loosing a depressed sigh. "But Captain Valerie will punish me if I don't participate. Could I just ask you guys to I dunno..." he scratched sheepishly at the back of his head "..die quickly? I promise to try and make it clean. Honest."
Curren opened his mouth, a verbal riposte no doubt on his tongue, when the assembled doppelgängers suddenly lurched. Throwing themselves forward with blocky, shamble-like movements. Mori's saber flashed upwards, blocking a jerky swing from the first sword to reach him, and then twisted left as a second went low, aiming to pierce his side.
The Master Chief's response is swift, his weapon slicing deeply across the chest of the nearest puppet in range... only to reel back as the.. thing.. just kind've ignores it and reaches out to grab at his face. The lifeless fingers manage to brush up against his chin, almost finding purchase in a strong grip, when suddenly the limb drops after a flash of steel.
"Aim to disable." Curren bites out quickly, hurriedly pulling his personal sword back up to parry a blade coming straight for his face. His leg comes up, kicking away the faux-pirate in the chest and knocking it into a trio of its clones. The more veteran marine looks like he has a second comment to follow up with but abandons it when he whirls around to sever the raised arm of one of two puppets that have circled behind him.
"Right...disable," Mori murmurs as he reorients himself on the seven or so assailants gathering 'round. It was fortunate that they only seemed to be semi-autonomous. They're spastic movements may be just about impossible to predict but at least they weren't all working in concert. An intelligent coordinated assault by things that didn't even bleed would see him skewered in seconds. "Easier said than done.."
The third from the left suddenly flies forward! It's torso coming in first while its sword arm winds up behind it. Second to the right meanwhile gets jolted into action by its compatriot. As do two others in the lineup swiftly thereafter. A straightforward jab is the first to reach him and Mori involuntarily sucks in his stomach as it narrowly passes by. By sheer muscle memory he bashes the mannequin above its lips with his elbow, a trained move meant to shatter an opponents nose, but instead only gives slight physical knockback to a puppet that really couldn't care less.
His sword scrapes along the edge of another blade as he just manages to put it in the way in time. With a yell he pushes off the attacker and uses the momentum to twirl on his heel where another one is lunging for his waist. There's surprising only light resistance as his blade parts the top half of the dummy's head with its lower...and then a whole lot of resistance when the mostly headless construct continues with its grapple anyway.
"Gah-! What the-" Panic floods his system as the tackle knocks him to the floor, effectively killing his mobility. Another blade comes straight down for his head and it's only the weeks of recent reflex practice that get him to roll a half-turn out of the way in time. The half-headed doll at his waist releases one arm from its hold and reaches up for the Master Chief's face.. only to then have its pale hand blown apart at the wrist by a sudden bout of gunfire from left-field.
"Knigge! Rose! Get that thing off the Master Chief!" A Petty Officer barked to a duo of following Seamen as he holstered his still smoking gun. "Wellerman! Juro! Form up with me and keep close!"
"Ugh man really? Reinforcements?" The Fruit-user put his head in his hands and loosed a frustrated sigh. "Why is it always gotta be reinforcements with you people? Every time Valerie has me fight you Marines this happens!" Six, seven, eight, nine more mannequins manifested out of the mans body. "Just stop already! I don't even want to be here."
Dodge right. Kick her in the stomach. Backflip away. Hop over the sword. Boot to his face. Snatch the weapon. Launch it at the guy at my 2:00. Drop below the axe. Uppercut big boy on the way back up. [Soru] away from the three taking aim. Springboard off the mast. Reappear aft of them. [Rankyaku] to the groups back. Spin around to my six. [Tobu Shigan] the one hefting the cannon. Exhale for a moment and take a goddamn breath.
Good lord this shit is annoying. How did I get stuck cleaning up fodder? I was trying to find Hornigold -or perhaps some other leading figure of this stupid mess- and somehow ended up clearing almost an entire shipful of low-tier grunts. This isn't where I need to be. The stupid marine I was trying to save didn't even make it out. Suicidal moron was too busy watching me bounce around trying to bail his ass out and he ended up taking a knife in the upper back. Why the hell was he even here? Boarding an enemy vessel alone without any of the strength to back it u-
My sixth sense flares at the sound of air being displaced and I slide out of the way just as a rather prominent great-axe comes crashing down into the spot I was previously standing, violently splitting the wood upward with the force behind it's throw. A second shadow in my periphery springs from a hidden corner and it's a narrow miss that I avoid a clawed hand trying to rake across my back or find purchase in my shoulder.
I right my position with a quick spin to look at the two newest opponents… and can't help the small cheeky smile from curving up on my lips. "Well would you look at that?" I voiced with a light snicker, taking in two faces I never quite expected to see again, let alone at the same time. "Didn't I already turn you two idiots in? Got payed for it and everything as I recall."
Garna, a strongly built, broad in every way barbarian-like woman who served as First Mate aboard Captain Ingrid's Wretched Widow. Bounty: 9.1 million.
And Zōken, a complete small-timer who lived under the radar until he maimed a marine Ensign after consuming the Bobcat-Fruit. Bounty: 6 million.
The cat-man's short fur bristles as he drops into a battle stance next to his new cohort. "Hornigold attacked the prison ship transporting us to Impel Down." he helpfully informs as his claws begin to glint with an unnatural sharpness.
"That's right." Garna chimes in, hefting her massive weapon out of the deck. "And whilst my true loyalty will always be to my first Captain, I will happily serve under any man if it means finding another chance to swing at you!"
A second hand grips tightly down on her axe and the woman charges with a rather fervent battle roar. A simple and direct attack that befits her nature well. Zōken meanwhile dashes to the side, intent on trying to be just a little craftier. Planning to strike from an oblique angle or wherever he perceives a good opportunity.
The first decapitation strike comes and -though there's a tiny part of me that wonders if the partial shielding of [Tekkai Kenpo] could stop her blade flat- I'm not feeling moronic enough to test it out. A simple bending of the knees drops me low and a solid palm strike to her sternum as follow-up sends the larger woman hurtling away into the nearest wall.
A four-legged feline springs at -what I'm sure he believes- is my unprotected back and then develops a look of shock -shock I say- when I casually reach behind me, catch him by his wrist, and then fling him at his partner who is only now starting to extricate herself from the collapsed cabin she had crashed into.
Amazingly, the blatant reminder of the gap that exists between us doesn't seem to dissuade them any. If anything, they look even more determined now. Even more resolute that I represent some obstacle that they have to push to overcome. The duo dust themselves off, brandish their chosen weapons once more, and spring back into action.
'I wonder if my Billion Beri [Quest] will let me double-dip on their bounties?' I idly wonder as I dip away from a far too choreographed swing. 'It says 'capture or kill' and these two did legitimately escape after I cashed in on the 'capture'. Perhaps I should opt for the more permanent solution this time around.'
[Kami-e] bends me away from Zōken's low swipe and then Garna's downward cleave as well. It's funny, I realize somewhere in the back of my mind. Even though our initial encounters so long ago were brief I can still tell they've gotten a little better. Their movements are just a smidgen more fluid and crisp. Their attacks swinging with a touch more speed and power behind them than their past selves had.
'What a shining example of living in a shōnen universe. That two nobodies like this can grow and improve just from the determination to defeat the one who bested them. Training for a rematch that by all odds and good fortune was really rather unlikely to actually even happen.'
But while their levels have noteworthingly gone up three or four since we last saw each other...I meanwhile have gained closer to about 20.
And I just can't spare them anymore of my time.
Dropping [Tekkai Kenpo] for a brief moment the restrictive penalty on my DEX evaporates and I blitz away as nothing more than a blur of dark lines.
Garna's axe halts halfway through her next swing and the barbarian woman blinks dumbly at my disappearance. It's an expression that doesn't last more than a moment though as its soon replaced when my holding-nothing-back fist crashes into her left cheek. Her skin ripples along the blow while her neck jerks around to a sickening angle. An ugly crack occurs when it spins just a bit too far and with only one hit the prison-ship escapee crumbles to the floor.
+340 Exp!
Unsurprisingly Zōken jumps in for one final attempt, a maneuver almost identical to his opener only this time from the other side. As if just changing something small like that would make it suddenly work out for him. His half-cat half-human snarl is violently distorted as my elbow crumples his nose into his face and then slams him downward. His back bounces off the deck, a pained gasp sputtering from his bloody mouth as he does so, and-'! ! !'
My palm spins out behind me '[Tekkai]!' and it's a frame perfect maneuver that lets me catch the surprise fist the very second before every muscle locks rigidly into place. A small ring of displaced air echoes out as the tremendous hit meets the somewhat immovable object and I stare up at the Huge-Human that by all accounts should not have been able to sneak up on me like that.
Fumori, Captain of the Fumori Pirates, Lv. 53
I glance over his title as a low throbbing snakes its way throughout my arm. A peculiar type of ache that I recognize as my 'Iron Body' being strained to its upper limit. Whatever this guys STR stat is it's fucking high, even for someone with giants blood.
More important than my best defense being tested though is the two questions vying for attention at the forefront of my skull. What exactly was that...feeling.. just now that let me know the punch was coming? It wasn't me reading a move, I've done that plenty of times before but I didn't even hear this dude let alone see him moving. No, that just now was something...different.
'Could that have been my first brush of Haki? Or would that just be wishful thinking? I didn't get a [Skill] for it. A precursor perhaps? A sign I'm on the cusp maybe?'
Well. We'll devote some time to pondering that one later. I think the other question is going to take precedence right now. Namely, how in the actual fuck did I almost get sucker-punched by someone almost thrice my own height?
Fumori grits his teeth in unnatural silence as he continues to press down against my unmoving statue-like form. Perhaps if he had just a few more brain cells to rub together he'd realize that just changing the angle a little would let him smash me through the wooden floor as opposed to - 'Oh...well I'll be damned.' I realize as I finish my [Observe] of this profile.
"The Calm-Calm Fruit huh?" I spoke with a little exhale, letting my [Tekkai] fall away and holding his fist at bay with naught but my own herculean STR stat. The pressure behind Fumori's arm momentarily weakens as the pirate balks in surprise at my words and I take the opportunity it gives to slip my revolver from its holster. "That Fruit's got a real interesting history y'know." I continue while aiming the gun behind me.
"Excuse me a moment," I intone lightly before discharging the weapon twice at the slowly recovering Zōken.
+220 Exp!
I'm well-versed in the durability of Zoan's by this point. You gotta make sure when you get 'em down they actually stay that way or else they'll just keep on kickin'.
"Now..as I was sayin' my oversized friend. A real interestin' history. I'm willing to bet there's more than one powerful person in this world that would be.. annoyed.. to see it fell into hands as unremarkable as yours once it respawned."
The worlds newest Soundless-Human lets his power recede and I can finally hear his angry snarl. "What are you even talking about you upjumped little shit? This power's been mine for the better part of a decade. Near worthless that it is."
'In your hands maybe. Not so much Donquixote Rosinante's.' "Kudos to you then for managing to keep a low-profile on having it for so long then. All while operating in waters relatively close to Sengoku's hometown too. I bet if he'd even caught a whiff of some oversized shitstain using that Fruit he'd have had agents dragging you to the gallows within a fortnight."
Fumori's brow continues to furrow at my words. Confusion about what the hell I'm going on about clearly plastered over his ugly mug. When the 'shitstain' comment hits his ears though it becomes obvious he's decided he no longer cares. His eyes narrow as lips turn downward. Muscles tense as his fingers curl and it just makes everything...so so predictable.
A simple hop upward lets me avoid the massive meathook smashing into the deck. Everything up to his forearm disappearing through the floor from the intensity with which the fist was thrown. When taken in a vacuum, its rather an impressive feat to make an entire ship ripple with just a punch alone, but honestly..not really anything I haven't seen before.
Nothing I haven't beaten before.
A [Rankyaku] strikes him right in the center of where his oversized forehead ends and the bridge of his nose begins. The flying kick isn't perfectly horizontal, even with the [Skill] being maxed out that still manages to elude me now and again, but it doesn't need to be to have the tips of its cutting power get him right in the-
A guttural scream tears its way out of his throat as he stumbles onto his ass clutching at his face. "MY EYES! You - - - - ck - - - - - - SHIT!" Blood seeps through the ridges of his fingers and a red-stained hand leaves his face just to blindly swipe at where he thinks I am. "- - - - - rip out - - - - - - - squash - - - - -ing but dust!"
"You wanna run that by me again big guy?" I ask with a light little guffaw in my throat. Sure its a little cruel to taunt him like this -certainly not gonna earn me any good karma points- but if I'm remembering my bounty posters right then this guy's noted for slowly crushing his victims to death so honestly, fuck 'im. "I think you lost control of your Fruit for a second there. I only got like..a third of that maybe."
There's probably a joke somewhere about how the only response the 'Soundless-Human' gave to my statement was more incoherent cutting-in-and-out rage paired with blindly swiping limbs again but honestly I just can't think of it.
"Oh quit your caterwauling." I voice as a single [Soru] positions me behind his neck with my Meito in hand. "You've done far worse than just take someones eyes. Besides-" The Huge-Human freezes up as he feels the tip pressing softly against his nape. "-give it 10 seconds and it won't be your problem anymore."
All sound from the world vanishes as his shoulders twist for one last desperate strike and -while I'll admit he's quicker than the other 'Huge-Humans' I've encountered in the past- it's rather pointless when all I have to do is-
+1,305 Exp!
-press down and have Kugizume come out the other side. The titan of a man spasms as it does so. His final act of defiance being aborted halfway by the lethal blow and with still nary a sound he faceplants into the half-destroyed ship we'd been standing on.
The roar of battle enters my ears once more as the silencing effect fades and I calmly pull my weapon free. "Alright," I glance around for a new target and notice the giant golem of gelatin a few ships over is still raging unencumbered. "You'll do for next."
'Just what the hell kind of rules were these things operating on!?' Mori wondered with exasperation. Decapitation wasn't lethal. Bisection through the waist didn't stop them. But somehow cutting in twain diagonally from shoulder to hip did? And if you got rid of both arms then the puppets would fall down and fade away into nothingness when those without heads kept on fighting? How the hell did that make any sense?
Mori pushed his arms harder as he continued to swing his swords in a flurry. Both his own blade and the one he picked up from Wellerman after the boy went down. One by one the doppelgangers fell under his frenzied dance to stay alive but with each casualty another mannequin would just step into its place. It seemed like there were more than ever now!
He didn't know where Curren was. He didn't know where any of his fellow Marines were! All around him was just a sea of the same expressionless pale wooden face. Why did the blasted things have to be taller than him? If he just had a few more inches he might be able to see over them and spot his allies. 'If there's even any left besides Curren that is..'
The Master Chief chuckled ruefully to himself as a self-deprecating thought hit his mind. If Jack were here he'd probably be able to cut this crowd down to size without even drawing a weapon. Take 'em out five or six at a time with those crazy energy kicks of his. Those Ran- whatever they're called. He'd only actually seen them demonstrated once.
A shallow cut manages to get him just above the eye when he fails to dodge quite right. It's a minor wound but one that 's indicative of a rather major problem. He's getting slower. His breath, which a few minutes ago was steady as he razor-focused on the battle, is now progressively growing ragged. Not to mention the troubles this new injury brings with it.
With so many blood vessels being near the surface of the skin, facial wounds have this nasty tendency to bleed a lot. As a result it's really only a few moments until the constant dripping of red has impaired Mori's vision on his left side.
"Fuck.." With a shout he throws himself back into the fray. If he keeps moving they can't effectively surround him. If he keeps swinging he can push past the burning in his muscles. So long as he never stops. If he stops, if he ever tries to work in a breather, well..its not worth thinking about.
Another foe is felled and for a brief moment -just before another duplicate steps into its place- he catches sight of the real enemy. The still unnamed user of the doppelgänger fruit is sweating, looking distinctly unhappy and more sickly than before as yet more living pictures step out from him to fill the ranks.
"Curren!" Mori roars above the ambient blare of the battleground. "It's taking him more and more effort to spawn them!" he pauses to parry a blade at this right and kick the offending creature away. "We just have to win the attrition war! Do you hear me! Curren! Keep fighting!"
"Ahhh...so loud." A voice he wasn't expecting responds back to him. "What is it with you people in uniform always yelling things?" The Devil Fruit user peaks directly at him through a gap between two of his look-alikes. "Barking orders. Screaming everything you do. It's so loud out here already. Would it kill you not to add to it? Besides," A figurative parting of the sea occurs behind Mori and the marine can't help but glance back at it. "...you're not even talking to anyone." The pirate finishes.
Six bodies in bloodstained blue & white are laying peacefully next to each other. All neatly arranged in a row despite the horrible wounds adorning them. The two Seamen that helped him up. That Petty Officer who saved his ass he never got the name of and oh...
Curren died.
A while ago by looks of it.
That was...
He should be distraught over that shouldn't he?
That was for all intents and purposes his workplace best friend. He...he had had that man over for dinner with his wife probably a dozen times in the last two years. Shouldn't he be.. less..numb.. over his death?
Something more than a clinical observation that he was alone and almost assuredly next?
"If its any consolation I kept my promise. I kept it clean. Well, for three of them at least. I did try for the others." The pirate spoke in weary tone. "Now would you please stop?"
A horrible fatigue began to bear down at Mori at the mans words. Not necessarily because of them but rather due to the simple fact he had stopped fighting to listen. Were his arms always this heavy? Why was it taking so much effort to hold them up? And his knees. Surely they weren't going to buckle just from this right?
Damn.
He knew he shouldn't have stopped.
Though...he didn't do too bad though right?
Made it farther in life than most did didn't he?
Growing up he wasn't completely talentless but he was never one of those who could be described as 'gifted'. All his life he'd just been...middling. Not great, not terrible. An average sort of man with just enough skill to rise half a step above the pedestrian masses.
He'd never really minded it. Was there a reason why he should have? He had his wife. His daughter. Money had never been a great issue. The job sometimes sucked but hey, so does everyone's every now and again. Why should he be anything but content with how life had turned out?
And he was content. Satisfied with where he was. At least until..a few months ago.
The incident with Jorgen...his promotion...meeting Jack and seeing all the crazy powers he got by just endlessly pushing himself foward. They awoke something in Mori. Not a great inferno of ambition like some people seemed to possess but enough to make him..dissatisfied.. with where he was.
He doubted he could ever catch up to his bounty hunter friend. He couldn't fly or do those weird energy kicks or make his skin hard as stone. Hell even when Jack explained the principles behind them to Mori they still seemed only a quarter step below outright impossible.
Though there was that one trick he'd thought might someday be in his reach.
Opponents closed in around him as Mori's swords clattered uselessly to the ground. He doubted he could do it. He'd never gotten it right in practice. And to be honest he really didn't practice all that much.
Still... life and death adrenaline is a hell of a thing.
His chest heaving, his face bleeding, his swords too heavy to pick back up, Mori opened his mouth and bellowed his demand to the world. An official notice to the powers that be that he would be average no longer.
"SORU!"
For the first time in what would be many in his life the world disappeared into a blur of racing lines around Mori. Objects in his periphery zooming past him as he was propelled forward by a sudden gushing force. He blew past the mannequins, knocking them aside through sheer explosive momentum, straight towards the sickly bastard responsible for their creation...and then promptly tumbled across the wooden deck when he tripped over his own feet.
And yet.. the angle was workable.
One quick, perfect draw from his sidearm at the pirates backside and-
"Ah.." the unnamed Devil Fruit-user inspected the red lake forming on his chest. "..well that wasn't supposed to happen." the pirate mumbled as he staggered forward with unsteady steps. Like puppets with their strings cut, each of the automata around him began to crumble. "I.. I hope Captain Valerie doesn't find out. She'll.." he fell to his knees as a lightheadedness overtook him. "She'll be mad at me. I don't want.. to be punished."
One by one the toppled mannequins slowly lost tangibility. Becoming less and less corporeal as the power that birthed them left the newest corpse on the battlefield and reincarnated on a mulberry tree well over a thousand miles away.
Just another one of dozens of powers that would be reassigned to new wielders in the wake of one bounty hunters butterfly effect on history.
A/N 2: I've got several more scenes already mostly written but I decided to move all those to a new document for the next update. If I don't then I wouldn't be able to get this chapter out today which is something I told myself I was going to do.
A/N 3: Had more than one ask for a discord. Sure. No skin off my bones. Talk or post pictures or whatevs suits your fancy. I'll poke my head in every now and again to answer questions. Server code: .gg/2tMbwRza
A/N 4: No idea which of you silly gooses went out of your way to make a TvTropes page for this story but...thanks I guess? Glad you've been enjoying it enough to go an' do that.