Chapter 4 – Expansion
Bounties have no necessary correlation with the strength of those they are assigned to – bounties are based on emotions and personal vendetta. Each ninja village held its own unique bingo book – and while some faces would remain consistent between villages, the majority of the book's contents would be similarly unique, based on the harm a person had done to that village or a person of importance. Sometimes the characters in the book weren't even shinobi – they were simply civilians who had trod on too-many toes. One time I even cashed in the head of a young man whose only crime was fooling around with the daughter of an Earth Nation noble – and the bounty I received was substantially larger than that of most ninja I killed for a reward.
However that is not to say bounties are not a good indication of strength. Itachi Uchiha, irrefutably one of the Akatsuki's strongest members, possessed a bounty which was markedly higher than that of our weakest member, Deidara. When people reach certain levels of strength – they become potential threats. Potential threats are feared, and quite often the trademark human paranoia will instinctually try and pre-emptively remove that threat. Kakashi Hatake possessed one of the highest bounties I had ever seen – but only in the bingo books of the Earth and Lightning Nation, who feared him as a weapon of their chief rival.
As such – my best indicator of strength at present is Wanted Poster referencing.
Conveniently enough, newspapers – delivered by strangely tamed seagulls – keep me up-to-date with the most wanted pirates and criminals roaming free upon the seas, and a subscription was dirt cheap. With that in mind I decided to set the first phases of my plan in motion. "These guys look stronger than our usual target's, Kaku-oji."
We were sitting in the cabin of a small schooner I chartered from Loguetown, to take us deeper into East Blue towards the nearest proximate island. Oil lamps line the wooden walls, filling the room with passable light – as well as the unpleasant scent of burning oil. Four newspapers lay, unread, before me – their wanted posters torn out and scattered in front of me.
"Call me that again and I'll kill you." Bonney lets out a squeak at the deadpanned threat, but remains close enough to scrutinise the posters that sit in front of me, even in the dim light. "If you have a question spit it out, I've no patience today."
"Why are we suddenly going after stronger people? I mean, this isn't even a small step up! There are a couple of extra zeroes on this guy's bounty!" she holds up a poster of a young man with raven hair and sulphuric yellow eyes, brandishing a sword eerily similar to that of those belonging to Kirigakure, albeit with a more western design, "50 million?! He'd slaughter us!"
"Your concern is touching, but unnecessary. While it is true that if I sent you against "Hawkeyes" Mihawk you would most likely perish, I don't doubt I could personally subdue him with relatively little strain." I cast a glance at his poster, "He does bare following though. Those eyes of his are strong." Bonney doesn't look convinced. "Tell me Bonney; if I am to become a pirate, what do I need?"
"… A ship?" the inflection suggests states it as more of a question than an answer, but I choose not to call her up on it.
"For one. And what do I need on the ship?"
"A crew?" again with an inflection, but a surer answer nonetheless. She blinks, as if coming to a realisation and begins looking from the wanted posters to my face quite frantically, "You're going to try and recruit these guys?!"
"Obviously. If I am to succeed in any way I require an able bodied crew to support me. However with this in mind I have several problems: firstly, the supply of people willing to be pirates – while large – is unquestionably weak. If I were to have recruited all of the fools I had let you subdue in the past I'd quite likely die of shame."
"That sounds like you're insulting me…" she mumbles, under her breath.
"I was, and be quiet," she squawks again, "And so I am left with the following options. Attempt to become the Pirate King on my own, with no crew at all," I shrug, "A tempting offer, but I have trepidation against facing the might of the entire world government by myself. Alternatively I seek out strong individuals. Individuals already known as pirates, or criminals, who are malleable enough to grow at a similar pace to myself. A mighty oak needs branches that grow in tandem, or else the other trees will overgrow it. What I plan to create I cannot manage on my own, as much as I wish I could. I sift through the pile – looking for the first ideal candidate.
Loyalty was a quality I desired – someone who would be cowed into service if I defeated them. But I also sought intimidation and physical prowess. They needn't be my strongest crew member, but they needed to be strong enough to stand on their own two feet from the get-go, unlike my current project who could barely breathe properly without my assistance.
A face stood out amongst the others. "What is this?"
"Hm? Oh, no! Don't go after one of them – they're all ludicrously strong!"
Dyran "Deep Diver" Sutton stood out amongst the other faces simply from his unusual features. While he looked nothing like him, my thoughts immediately went to Kisame of the Mist – whose entire family had such a high affinity with sharks that, some generations prior, they started to take on shark like features which instilled phenomenal power within them. Kisame himself, "The Beast without a Tail," was one of the most ridiculously powerful individuals I ever encountered. Dyran looked nothing like Kisame however – instead of blue skin and hair, sharp teeth and a sharp, pointed face, Dyran's skin was quite bald and coloured a speckled grey, possessed a round and angular face, and had a long, thin mouth that was curved into a frown. His form was slender and tall, put clearly powerful, and over his body we wore a navy-blue hakama. Held securely to his side was a long silvery-steel cutlass, and it was accompanied by five flintlock-pistols held in their own individual holsters.
Perhaps the most curious detail was the bone-like protrusion from his forehead, which had clearly been filed down to the point it looked like a strange white pumice-stone embedded in his head. Wanted for murder of naval officers, property damage, and piracy. Currently classified as a hermit, known to be a skilled navigator, rumoured to be last seen on Harkin Island, East Blue. Bounty of 40 million Beli.
"Fishmen are rare in these parts – they mostly stay in the Grand Line, unless they're forced to leave. And they generally don't like humans." Bonney explained.
"Fishmen… There are more people like this?" it had been a bloodline trait unique to Kisame's family back in the elemental nation.
"Hundreds of them. There's a whole city of them beneath the Ocean on the Grand Line. They live with mermaids." That sounded like a joke but she said it with such conviction I was inclined to believe her, no matter how ludicrous it was. "He looks like he's a Narwhal Fishman."
Narwhal? That would explain the forehead-protrusion. "How interesting…" I murmur. "Yes – he'll do just fine." I gather up the masses of paper and hand them to her, waiting till she clutches the bundle to her chest, "if his bounty is any indication he is far beyond your level. Regardless, witnessing our confrontation should we come to blows will likely be a rewarding experience." I motion to the stack of papers held against her bosom, "You can locate the next one, if you feel like it. Look for strength, and try and determine loyalty." I step out of the cabin, onto the deck. Wind batters the sails and rough grey waves sweep over the side of the boat, filling the air with the taste of salt. "Captain!" I yell at the helmsman, who nods in acknowledgment, "Set a course for Harkin Island!"
XXX
Birth is not supposed to define our destiny. From a young age we are told we are the masters of our own lives, and that if we work hard enough we can achieve anything. Even those who were born deep beneath the surface of the sea, where only slivers of sunlight reach, are filled with this belief. Fishman Island is truly an amazing place – and no kingdom like it exists elsewhere in the world. And Fishmen who leave it never forget it, even if they no longer have the option of returning. Within his fairly crudely built cabin, Dyran the Fishman massaged the mark on his left shoulder yet again – a brand mark which showed the symbol of a dragon's footprint.
Every mothing he mulled over the prospect of going back out to sea. Going back to the Grand Line, and venturing to Fishman Island. When he'd left it, swearing to make his fortune, he had not predicted the Tenryubito's fascination with Fishmen slaves would suddenly reach its peak. He and several others were taken, branded and turned into fetishized versions of themselves. Slaves. Escape had to be done alone – he wasn't strong enough to take the others with him. Or maybe he was just too cowardly. Either way, he couldn't return. Mark of shame notwithstanding, without his comrades he would be just as worse off.
Self-exile in East Blue was the only option.
Shaking himself from his reverie, Dyran rose to his feet and pulled his hakama sleeves up from his waste and over his arms thus covering the scar. He'd leave his hut and find a wild goat – then kill it, skin it and cook it. That would do him for the day, he supposed. He really yearned for some fish, but his nets weren't yielding any fruit. Hoisting up his belt he secured his arms to his hakama – a cutlass, two handy pistols in case, and a freshly sharpened stone shiv. He made a note to try and find some metal to craft a better one – having broken his old metal knife while skinning a previous hunt.
Wasting no more time he approached the door of his hut, ready to leave, then froze. He was no longer alone. Someone was approaching – no, two people. With trepidation he placed his hand on the door knob and opened it slowly, resting his other hand on the hilt of his cutlass. With bated breath he waited by the ajar door – grey eyes scanning the rows of forest while his damaged tusk conveyed broken sensory messages. It had been a nightmare shaving it down, and it had hurt like hell – the tusk in fact being a long and sharp tooth with just as much nerve endings – but it was far more practical and still operated enough to give him a short sensory range. Bounty hunters were a rare enough sight – generally speaking they preferred to go after cheap and quick targets, while Marines tended to have far more important targets on their agenda than him.
There they were. A man and a child, nothing more than a little girl. Lost travellers? Probably not – he wasn't so naïve to think children couldn't be dangerous. She was clearly young, perhaps eight or nine, with long pink tresses topped by a green foraging cap, a ragged white tank top that was far too big for her, and green shorts and boots (also too big for her). Her companion appeared equally odd – clad neck to toe in ragged brown robes, similar in appearance to a long poncho. With his matted brown hair, very dark skin and visibly scarred body – he suspected he may be a hermit as well. Those eyes though…
Red sclera and green irises – eyes like he'd never seen before. Dangerous eyes.
"Can I help you people?" he gestured with the hand not cradling his cutlass to the cabin and grounds surrounding it, "I wasn't expecting company so the place is a bit of a state." The man and child didn't answer. The man looked at the child and said something illegible – the child then nodded and stepped back a few paces while the man advanced forwards towards Dyran, flexing his fingers uncontrollably. "Hey there pal!" Dyran called out, this time with more edge in his voice, "This is my property. I'd be most obliged if you didn't trespass."
"Mr. Sutton, I presume." The man's voice was curiously deep and almost hypnotic. "I believe you will find this is not your property – living here does not make it your land. I would go so far as to say this is public land, considering this island is uninhabited and has no form of local government. Unless you are proclaiming to be the owner of this island," he chuckles as he gestures to the meagre hut, "Which appears unlikely."
On edge after his name was mentioned, Dyran crouched slightly – and drew his hand back towards one of the loaded pistols on his belt, "Did you just come here to insult me, buddy? Or do we have business?"
"Business, I'm afraid." He shakes his head, "There's no need to draw your gun Mr. Sutton. Not yet anyway. I'm not hear for your head – not in the way you are thinking anyway." The smile on his face looks twisted, especially with the strange stitches on the side of his mouth, "I'm here to ask you to join me. Become a pirate with me."
"Beg your pardon?" Dyran asks, incredulously.
"Recent events have resulted in my changing profession. I have decided to enter the piracy business, and as luck would have it – you appear to be already acquainted with such a business. I could use a man of your talents, if I am to achieve my goal." He extends his arm towards Dyran, as if to shake hands, "Help me become the Pirate King, Dyran Sutton."
In the next few passing seconds, the tension is palpable. Unsure how to initially react to the out-of-the-blue offer, Dyran simply stares blankly. Then, "Get the hell off my property." In one swift movement, Dyran draws his pistol – taking aim at the suddenly moving man whose grin has not diminished. The bullet flies – after Dyran's wrist has been grabbed and wrenched up in the air, resulting in the bullet being sent off randomly.
"I expected this result, but the offer remains." He is close enough for Dyran to see the network of stitches reaching up just above the neckline, "We do not need to take this further, Mr. Sutton. After all – harming you would be counterproductive to my aims." Clicking his tongue, Dyran channels Haki into his arm and shakes off the dark-skinned stranger, leaping into the air and landing on the roof of his hut and discarding the now useless flintlock in exchange for the loaded one in one hand, and his cutlass in the other.
"And I'll answer you once again," his sword begins to glow with an unearthly green-light, "Fuck off and die! Tall Pesat!" filling his legs with strengthening Haki, he leapts forward and swings the blade in an arc. The green light sharpens and flies in tandem, setting loose from the blade creating a cutting air-blade. Bending back at an unearthly angle, the green blade passes over him and flies into a tree, cutting horizontally straight through the trunk.
"Your sword is sharp enough – that much is true. But so far I am unimpressed." Staring at him with an unearthly hunger, the stranger flexes his arms once again, turning the skin pitch black, "Show me the extent of your power, Dyran Sutton."
Both crouch slightly then leap forward, Dyran's blade clashing with the stranger's now hardened arms. "You seem to have me at a loss," the fishman grinds out, "You know my name, but I don't now yours."
"I am Kakuzu," grunts the dark skinned stranger, "But you may call me Captain," with some strain he forces back Dyran, breaking his guard and allowing him to step in and deliver a harsh blow to the face sending Dyran soaring back, crashing into his hut. Cracking his knuckles, Kakuzu calls, "You have shown yourself to be mediocre so far, Dyran Sutton. I honestly expected more."
From the rubble, Dyran rises – his body caked in sawdust and his hakama torn in more than one place. Mediocre? Okay, no more playing. Amidst the rubble, Dyran fished out a harpoon – used for spearing any of the fish he happened to catch in his net. "I'm out of practice, I'm afraid." Dyran's large round eyes become much colder, much like his tone, "But I hope this is enough to satisfy you, Captain Kakuzu." Holding the spear behind him and crouching down low, Dyran mutters, "Primer Lament de Pescador." The earth around him begins to quake ominously, and bits of rubble begin to shake. Eyes focused on Kakuzu, he spits out, "Frenesí."
Dyran disappears. As Kakuzu blinks in confusion, he suddenly chokes as the harpoon is thrust from behind him and pierces his shoulder, Dyran holding it in mid-leap. As Kakuzu recovers, Dyran rips the harpoon out – the barb leaving a nasty tare in the shoulder – and vanishes once again. And then like rain, blows rain down on Kakuzu – like thousands of needles piercing his body, sending blood flying everywhere and coating the ground a deep crimson. In a blur of speed Dyran reappears, twirling the harpoon around in his arm, hakama now lowered over his shoulders as he sweats with exertion. Kakuzu falls to his knees, panting heavily.
Looking over at the little girl, Dyran calls out, "I have no quarrel with you. You better leave now." She stares at him as if he has said something stupid. "I'm serious, I don't want to fight a little girl!"
"You should concentrate on your current opponent!" she yells at him while nodding, as though it is sage advice. Confused, he turns back to Kakuzu – only to see the dark skinned giant has risen to his full height and is no longer panting.
"Once again I let hubris get in the way. I apologise, Mr. Sutton." Discarding the ruined poncho top, leaving himself only wearing his ripped trousers and some strange masks sewn to his back, Kakuzu flexes his form once again. Before Dyran's very eyes the puncture wounds he inflicted begin to stitch themselves up, as though they never exists. "You managed to pierce my technique. That alone is impressive. And now, may I offer my retort?" Without warning, thousands of tiny threads explode from Kakuzu's form, each bundling together to form a strong tentacle.
Reacting in just enough time, Dyran channels Haki into his legs and weapon and dodges and slashes at the oncoming threads. Despite avoiding them for the most part – independently they veer off from the mass and pierce his body; resulting in every dodge he manages only mitigating the overall damage. While concentrating on this, Kakuzu's arms begin to move, forming complex looking hand signs. "Raiton," he raises one arm and points it at Dyran in a clutching motion, "Saigo no Sengou no Jutsu." In the blink of an eye, forked lightning shoots out of Kakuzu's arm, hitting Dyran in the shoulder but sending a jolt throughout his entire body. The paralysis induced from the lightning allows the thread-tentacles to catch Dyran and hoist him in the air, drawing him closer to Kakuzu.
"You are formidable, Dyran Sutton." From his ruined trousers he withdraws a now torn wanted poster, "And apparently clever. Your poster fooled me into thinking you were a swordsman." he sends a thread-tentacle to pick up the dropped harpoon, "I have never seen a style such as yours. A fighting style derived from diving and whaling, perhaps?"
"Sea-king hunting," Dyran corrects with difficulty, as the threads around his neck supress much speech.
"Fascinating…" murmurs Kakuzu, still staring at the harpoon. The tightness of the threads around Dyran's neck decreases. "I confess I was blunter than I should have been earlier. I wanted to goad you into a fight to gauge your abilities: so far I have been disappointed with the calibre of criminal I have encountered thus far. You surprised me, Mr. Sutton." His voice is far more level now, and almost calming. "I do not know of your past, Mr. Sutton – nor do I care to hear it. Your goals are your own, and as long as they do not clash with my own I am content for you to keep them private. But letting yourself rot in self-exile out here is a waste of potential. The strength in you that I see is vast, but untapped. Follow me and become a stronger person." The threads entirely release Dyran, letting him fall to the ground. "I witnessed the death of Gold Roger. I saw the pirate king make his successors declaration – One Piece is out there for the taking."
Kneeling down so he reaches Dyran, Kakuzu speaks in a softer tone, "I am not a kind man, Mr. Sutton. I am cruel, callous and will most certainly kill many people in the future. But I can make you this promise," Kakuzu's powerful eyes lock with the round onyx-eyes of Dyran, "Join me and you will be at the forefront of an empire which will shake this world to its core. Join me and become richer than your wildest dreams. It is a myth to say that money is not the root of salvation. Whatever goals you may have, whatever promises you made yourself that you desire to keep… You will be able to buy the answer to them. I will give you that power – the financial and physical power to accomplish all your dreams." He pats Dyran on the branded-shoulder, "In exchange – work with me, and help me accomplish mine."
Hearing that, in a tone which spoke of only conviction and truth, Dyran saw his future self. He saw himself at the helm of a grand pirate ship, returning to Fishman island with the fortune he promised his mother and father he'd return with. He saw himself buying the freedom of his friends – or better yet, having the power to force that freedom. He saw himself away from this accursed island, experiencing the adventure his heart so desperately desired when he first set out. Whomever this Kakuzu was – he spoke the truth when he made his promise.
"I shall ask again, Mr. Sutton. Will you join me?"
Reaching over to his harpoon and picking it up so it could act as a supporting stick, Dyran rose to his feet. The wind had been knocked out of him and his muscles ached and creaked, but he still found the strength somehow. With a deep breath, Dyran looked Kakuzu in the eyes and answered, "Aye, Captain."
Despite the pain in his body, for some reason he no longer felt a sting from the brand on his shoulder.
XXX
Choosing another candidate from the pile of posters she was supplied by Kakuzu was far more difficult than she first imagined. Wanted-posters were deliberately sparse on information to avoid this very scenario – pirates and criminals seeking each other out to band together using World Government information. The government enjoyed the luxury of a comprehensive criminal database which could provide any necessary information for their privateers and pirate hunters – thus the only ones who suffered from the lack of information were unlucky bounty hunters and pirates attempting to expand. The only thing that was supplied – and even then not always – were the criminal activities, last known location, and total bounty. "What am I looking for exactly?"
Kakuzu initially didn't respond – he instead continue to bury himself in the letters he had taken to writing lately. Every morning he would send off a stack of them to a myriad of people she'd never heard of, and when questioned about it he would answer in his usual harsh manner, "It is none of your concern presently."
Dyran joined her, glancing at several of the top posters. "I've been a hermit too long. Most of these people I don't recognise." He shuffled them about, looking at several others, "I was only a pirate for a couple of months – long enough to get me out of the Grand Line and into East Blue. But I do recognise," he picked one poster out, "This person. Ffion Owens. She was the Captain of the Black-Moon pirates – a martial artist last I remember. I was her navigator during her cargo run to East Blue." He let out a low hum, "Her bounty has doubled since I last saw her. She was basically a rookie when we met, and now she's already at 67 million. She had a nasty habit of pirating cargo from Naval Vessels – seemed to think the haul was worth the risk. I'd imagine she bit off more than she could chew; looks like she's been captured."
"You would be correct." Kakuzu finally spoke, but did not look up from writing his correspondence. "Ffion Owens conducted a raid with a fellow rookie, Gecko Moria, on a Naval convoy. It seems they misjudged the strength of the vessels they began attacking, and ended up being fired upon by two naval men-of-war. Moria and his crew managed to escape while Owen's crew vessel was sunk and her crew captured or killed. At present she is being transported on a prison ship – on a course about ten leagues from here." He cast an eye at Bonney and Dyran, "my correspondence includes 3 naval officers – working in bounty offices. They are not the most discrete and are invaluable information sources."
Letting his quill rest in the ink pot, Kakuzu folded his hands in front of his face. "If we did wish to recruit Ms. Owens we would first need to secure ourselves a ship. When we next call into port we will steal the schooner – it will suffice until we manage to procure something more preferable. Once we have the ship under our control we will be able to make our way to the Grand Line and can intercept the naval vessel at the Alabasta Naval Base."
"Wait, we're stealing the ship?" Bonney spoke with trepidation. While she wasn't particularly against theft – especially considering they were now technically pirates – but considering they'd been with the crew for a couple of weeks she had become slightly attached to them.
"You are still too soft…" Kakuzu murmured, casting a cold gaze at his prodigy. "Piracy, by its very nature, involves hurting people in some way. Consider all the bounties I've had you collect – do you think those people existed in a vacuum? They all had families and friends – who have been affected by our actions. Profit comes at someone else's expense – that is its very definition. These men will curse us, but they will survive. They are hardy folk. The alternative is killing them all right now." He holds Bonney's gaze, "Which would you have me do?"
"I though you said you liked buying things. That it was good for the economy!" she countered, recalling the time she asked him why he bothered buying food from that inn all those months ago. "Isn't your ideology full of contradictions?"
There was a pregnant silence that seemed to last far too long, and Bonney instantly regretted her challenge. "I commend you for your memory of my lessons – you have surpassed my expectations with that. However while you parrot my words, you still do not understand them. These sailors will go on to ferry more customers with this vessel, they will take cargo, they will make dealings from east to west. And they will remain forever locked in the same position – unchanging until they retire. Unless someone else steals this vessel, which they will. It is captained by weak individuals who could not fend off even the most meagre of pirates. And when this ship changes hands it will be used for an equally futile purpose. If I take this ship – the ultimate benefit that can be reaped is far greater. My trade is far more effective in stimulating economic growth. These sailors are offering a commodity that is unnecessary for us. Consider my generosity spent when it comes to these people – for the price I gave them for their time was more than fair. But I am not running a charity service, and I need a ship."
Bonney remained silent as his words hit like thunder, and once again she sees the monstrous look return in Kakuzu's eyes – the same look she had witnessed when he had first appeared on the Elegant Triumph.
"Never question my ideology, neophyte. You are centuries too young to even consider battling me on philosophical matters." He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, lowering the tension somewhat. "Their lives will continue, and we are short of time. This woman; do you think she looks worth our time? If so – every minute counts. Pirates are not treated with mercy, and as each minute passes she heads closer to the gallows. Roger was an exception – his death was ceremonial. Most pirates don't get that luxury and die painful, agonising deaths. So make your choice."
XXX
People don't relax enough. Everyone's always so concerned with one thing after another – they never take their time to simply sit back, and maybe close their eyes and just dream for a couple of hours. While Aokiji lazed back in his hammock on the deck of the WGS Tripwire, being rocked from side to side by the waves, he once again reaffirmed his own desire to make it a priority in his own life. In the opinion of most Naval Officers Aokiji had met; he was not fit for his job. "Lazy and halfwitted," he vividly remembered one Captain snidely remarking about him when he was under the impression Aokiji was out of earshot. He wasn't lazy – not really. When he knew something had to be done, he made sure it was done. But at the same time he appreciated that some of the simplest things in life had to be enjoyed – and always wondered if the tightly-wound nature of such officers was the real reason they too didn't partake in the luxury of sleep either.
"Hey, handsome!" Aokiji cast a half-lidded eye at his ward. Ffion Owens, chained at the wrists and ankles with thick sea-stone shackles, batted her long red eyelashes at him. "Don't suppose you could do me a favour and loosen these a bit, could you? I'll make it worth your while," she accompanies this with a wink and a torso jiggle that he supposed she was trying to make appear seductive. She was a beautiful lady – he didn't deny that: her hair was a deep crimson and fell back in thick locks, her skin was tanned and the scars that ran across her left cheek and littered her arms and legs did not detract from her beauty, and her violet eyes were deep and fiery. Aokiji did what he did best – and tried to go back to sleep, letting out a soft snore as he did so.
"Oi-oi! Don't ignore me!" her tone changes abruptly to one of annoyance, and with a surprising amount of force considering her chains she manages to lob her left boot at him through the cell bars and hit him dead in the forehead, sending him crashing down from the hammock.
"… You were much cuter a minute ago," he observed calmly, rising to his full height and dusting himself off. "Why did you have to resort to violence – couldn't you let me sleep in peace?" he shrugs, "You're not helping your position at all, you realise?"
"How could my situation honestly get any worse, Vice-Admiral? And what the hell d'ya mean 'resort to violence'?! That's my line you smug bastard! You and your bloody dogs killed my crew!"
Aokiji's expression didn't change; he remained cool and stared at her impassively. "You made the uneducated decision to attack a Naval supply fleet, and yet seem surprised by the consequences. We responded with appropriate force. Please be aware that your actions, which were not only illegal, resulted in the deaths of many fine men and women I too was friends with." He sat down on his hammock but continued to look at his prisoner, "I empathise with your situation. But I do not pity someone who chooses to deal out fire and steel for their own selfish purposes. Pirates claim to have vision of something greater than themselves, but in the end all you seem to be is thieves and killers." With a deep, drawn-out sigh he slid back into a resting position on his hammock and pulled some turquoise eye-covers over his face, "I don't understand your conviction at all."
"Elitist prick." Ffion spits out the words with vitriol, "Don't pretend we all have a choice in the way our lives go! Piracy isn't always someone's dream job, right?!"
"No – I'm sure it isn't. And I appreciate that we are not all equal when it comes to choice in the ways our lives can go, though I wish we did all have that luxury. If I had a choice I'd not be here with you right now; I'd be back in North Blue sleeping all day and night, and only getting up to drink ice tea. But I didn't have that luxury." He spoke without removing the eye cover, irking Ffion to no end, "acknowledge that not all Marine officers have a choice in their lives either. You join to achieve something, and in the end you're just a cog in a machine which is simply keeping the world in the dark. It's a system that one can grow to hate – but it's the only option we have. The alternative is Gold Roger's world – where anarchy rules and we let the murderers he loves run rampant on the weak. You may have had limited options in life – but in the end you still chose to become a pirate, you still chose to attack innocents, and you still took the lives of many good people. Please do not try and joke your situation is not one of your own creation." He pauses, "Or something like that. Whatever. I'm going to sleep now." As soon as he says it he begins snoring again, a bubble forming beneath his nose.
"Don't bullshit me, you shitty marine! Undo these chains and say all that again! Come on, put your fists where your mouth is ya weevil-eating, slovenly, mangy excuse for shark bait!" Without saying anything Aokiji visibly withdrew some ear-muffs from the table next to him and slid them over his ears, making no other indication he heard her insult. "Oh – you are really trying to piss me off you scurvy-ridden flea-biscuit!" she continued to insult him, her voice rising in volume every time he ignored her – which he perpetually continued to do – eventually resulting in a hammering from above as several other marines yelled at her for quiet. "Damn it all to hell," she murmured, quieter this time. "Fucking Moria welching on us like that. That slimy, backstabbing shit-bag will get what's coming to him…" the sea stone shackles – having been fastened to her for days now – were finally beginning to drain her strength to a meagre trickle, to the point where even if she somehow managed to remove them and tried to stage an escape she wouldn't even have the strength to fight off a couple of grunt's. "Like I'm gonna end it here…" she growls finally, slamming the wrist shackles into those bound on her ankles, showing no indication of damage but letting out a loud and unpleasant clang, "This ain't gonna be the end for me – no way! 'Quicktrigger' Ffion's gonna fight another day!" despite her promises in her heart of heart's she didn't really believe it.
An explosion echoed outside the cabin. From above Ffion heard angry shouting and yelling – and the sound of gunfire. A Lieutenant-Commander slammed open the door of the cabin, "Vice-Admiral Aokiji!" the admiral, unable to hear him, continued to sleep until the Lieutenant-Commander stormed over and shook him awake. "We're being attacked, Vice-Admiral! 3 Pirates have stormed the deck!"
Aokiji's eyes widen, "Just 3? Why's there a problem?"
"There are only 3 of them – but they're easily storming through the men! One of them must be a fruit user!"
With a solemn nod, Aokiji rises and casts aside the eye-cover and ear muffs. Pulling on his trade-mark marine hoodie and bandana, and covering his eyes with small round sunglasses, he casts a final glance at Ffion, "Watch her – she's still dangerous." Mind then focuses he strode out the cabin and towards the chaos on deck. It was a sight to behold. Several marines were shambling around hunched over – having aged to become decrepit – while others were bawling on the deck having been turned into toddlers. Amongst them was a little girl with long pink hair, who despite her obviously young age was doing a very good job in beating the still-adult marines to a pulp, disarming them, and then shooting the next-nearest. Further from her was a bald, grey fishman with what looked to be a shaved horn – who was skewering his men with a harpoon, diving back into the sea and then shooting back out like a torpedo to tackle an unsuspecting victim.
Finally there was the apparent leader – who wasn't attacking anyone. He seemed content letting the little girl and the fishman take care of the underlings while his eyes were focused solely on Aokiji. Whenever a marine would approach him or try to shoot him we was swatted aside like a fly or taken care of by one of the other two – the bullets that did hit him seemed to leave him completely unfazed. A fruit user, and perhaps a Haki user too then. With a single bound Aokiji leapt across the deck and landed a few feet in front of the pirate leader. At this range it was revealed they seemed to be the same height – quite unusual for a regular human to measure up to him. "You caught me while I was napping. You realise that's the height of bad manners?"
Without warning the leader's arm exploded into a framework of thread – the disembodied hand and arm shooting forwards with the trail of grey following behind like an eerie ragdoll. Unfazed, Aokiji let the hand make impact directly on his chest – securing his body and planting himself securing on the deck with his Haki. He was pleased to note that the figure seemed quite surprised at the lack of damage his attack did. "Was that your move? My turn then. Ice Time." Mist began to from bellow Aokiji, and frost rapidly formed across his torso, instantly covering the arm and beginning to flow across the thread.
Obviously surprised, the dark skinned man fully detached his arm and the stray threads, letting the fully detach limb crumble into frost-bitten snowflakes. "If that's the extent of your abilities then you've made a grave mistake coming here today." Aokiji's tone remained as uncaring as ever, and yet somehow still managed to sound threatening.
"I believe you are the first real obstacle I have encountered on my journey so far." He spoke in a deep voice with an equally stoic tone. "But no – that is not the extent of my abilities." More threads shot out the stump of his arm towards the dead body of a nearby marine. Displaying their apparent sharpness they severed an arm from the corpse and burrowed beneath the flesh – pulling the limb towards him and somehow expanding it and changing its skin tone. By the time the arm had reached the main body it was an exact replica of the one that had been lost.
"That seems a bit like cheating." Aokiji commented, though his guard was now notably raised. "Name's Kuzan. Everyone calls me Aokiji, if you care."
"Kakuzu. Should you survive this, do well to remember it." As soon as the words left his mouth threads exploded from his back and curved round, forming into malevolent wing-like protrusions. Kakuzu began an assault of thread – sending a cascade of hardened and sharpened threads at the vice-admiral. In response the body of the Vice Admiral turned a pale cyan – effectively becoming entirely ice. The threads which made impact were frozen on contact and became useless, resulting in Kakuzu discarding them and withdrawing his thread. "So physical attacks are largely ineffective."
"Pretty much," answered Aokiji, his body returning to normal. "You could always surrender now and come with me into custody-"
"Katon: Yaketsuku yōna kanketsusen no Jutsu." After blitzing through eight hand seals, Kakuzu spat a stream of white hot flames from his mouth, which set the deck ablaze as what seemed to be liquid fire shot towards the shocked Aokiji.
"Ice Cave." Great shards of ice broke through the wooden deck and jutted up at crossing angles around Aokiji, surrounding him entirely in thick and solid ice. The flames seared over the conical defence, wrapping around it and letting out a loud hiss as the cold came into contact with the hot. Steam billowed upwards – and when it cleared only a smoking puddle and singe marks remained when Aokiji once stood.
With a slight grin, Kakuzu began to walk towards the prison-cabin, "A fool and his grave are early bedfellows." He murmured, grinning at his own witticism. His grin remained even as the spear of ice pierced fully through his body – going right through his left breast and staining the cyan an ugly red. "… What?" he vocalises his surprise with a gasp.
"Kakuzu!"
"Captain!"
Both the little girl and the fishman halted their assault to cast a panicked look at their leader. Aokiji stood behind him, expression unchanged. "You shouldn't be so quick to assume victory. Arrogance will be every pirate's undoing."
"… Arrogance was my undoing." It becomes Aokiji's turn to look surprised as Kakuzu rises, slowly pulling the spear out of his chest and letting the wound stitch itself up. "Wind is gone for now. I've not yet had time to research finding a replacement – I promise when we next meet I will not be as ill-prepared as I am now. This venture was a mistake on my part; you are indeed correct. I was arrogant to assume I could overwhelm you easily. However by the same token," the gaze Kakuzu sends him is filled with promises of fire and brimstone, "You are equally arrogant to assume such a cheap trick could properly end me." From his back three masks – held aloft by vast quantities of dark thread – begin to separate, the thread pooling away forming three distinct bodies. Meanwhile, Kakuzu performed several more handseals – a sign which caused Aokiji to tense, "Katon:"
A different, slightly more snide but equally deep, voice echoed Kakuzu's words, "Raiton:"
"Moeru Matsuri/Kenmeina Oiwai no Jutsu!" the mask creaked open at the mouth – and from within a torrent of red and yellow light danced in a malevolent jagged spiral, combining with the blue and violet flames which cascaded out of Kakuzu's own mouth and forming a single spiral beam of radiant light. The wooden decking bellow was torn asunder as the light rushed forwards towards Aokiji, who only had enough time to yell, "Ice Age!"
From a great distance away people could have seen it – as an iceberg instantaneously formed at the bow of the ship, toppling it over due to the uneven weighting. Marines screamed as they fell to the water bellow – while several including Bonney and Dyran managed to secure themselves to the deck and hang on for life. Kakuzu and his masked cohorts miraculously clung to the near-vertical surface with their feet alone. Almost as quickly as it formed the iceberg began to melt, revealing a wounded Aokiji. Breathing heavily he clutched his heavily bleeding right shoulder, cradling a wound which seemed to have burned a large chunk of the right side of his body. His feet were frozen to the deck, securing him in place.
"Well done – without that defence I doubt you would have survived that." A he spoke the ship groaned and creaked as it was forced to sustain pressure that went out with its design. With an almighty crack it fell back to its regular position as the last of the ice melted – but upon impact a crevice formed in the hull of the ship letting in water fast. "Dyran, Bonney – find Ms. Owens." The pair, who still seemed to be recovering from the shaking boat and seeing their Captain miraculously shrug off a fatal blow; hesitantly make their way to the stern of the ship towards the cabin where Ffion was being kept.
The four giant masked figures began to melt into threads which wormed their way back towards Kakuzu's body, latching onto the skin and burrowing beneath flesh until all 3 were fully incorporated back into his body. During this process he slowly advanced towards Aokiji, who was still clutching his wound and unmoving. When they were merely a few feet apart he halted his advance and stared down at the kneeling Vice-Admiral. "Arrogance was the undoing of the both of us this day, Vice-Admiral Kuzan Aokiji. Perhaps if the situation had been different our battle would have been far more entertaining." His arm caught alight though he showed no signs of pain, and his skin blackened to a dull charcoal with what Aokiji could only assume was the Colour of Armaments Haki. "If you are prepared there will be no sorrow," Kakuzu raised his blazing arm.
"Flash freeze." Before Kakuzu could attack the officer's body dissolved into a flurry of snowflakes and fluttered off on the breeze.
"Katon: Gōryūka no Jutsu!" frantically blitzing through handseals, Kakuzu mustered up chakra in his lungs and exhaled a jet of bright orange flames which quickly morphed into the shape of a fearsome oriental dragon. The snow danced and weaved in the wind, and Kakuzu could make no proper verdict on whether Aokiji had perished or not – though from a guess he would assume he survived and was retreating to lick his wounds. "I have no doubt we will meet again, Vice-Admiral Kuzan Aokiji."
Ffion meanwhile had undergone what could only be classified as a turbulent experience. Her guard had quickly abandoned his post to aid whatever threat his comrades were facing – resulting in her swearing after him for abandoning her alone – then the boat had basically turned vertical, leaving her dangling by her chains like a useless marionette, and finally it had come crashing back down leaving her slightly concussed and trapped in a room that was taking on seawater. While it seemed her situation couldn't get any worse – when she saw the shadows of people approaching she feared just that. However she was pleasantly surprised to recognise one of the newcomers.
"Dyran Sutton. You are a sight for my salty old eyes." She flashed him a half-hearted grin, and cast a glance at his companion. "Who's the kid? I didn't know you liked them young, Dyran." The girl in question shrieked and glowered furiously.
"I'm your salvation you old hag!"
"Hag?! Come here and say that, bubble-gum head!"
Letting out a sign, Dyran snatched a knife from his belt, wedged it in the locks on her cell door and with a couple of shimmy's managed to break one of the chain links letting them fall to the ground uselessly. Ffion held up her sea-stone cuffs, "That knife ain't gonna cut it on these. Don't suppose you have a key?" Cracking her knuckles with gleeful pleasure Bonney confidently strode into the cell and placed her hand on the woman's head. "H-Hey! What the hell are you-?" she stopped the moment she realised her voice was changing and her arms and legs were shrinking. Eventually the cuffs simply slid off the wrists of the now seven-year old Ffion. "What the actual fuck…?" her voice was so much higher. "Why is my chest so flat?! What did you do to my boobs?!" crossing her arms over her chest and sending a scandalised look at Bonney.
Bonney allowed herself a cheeky grin and let loose a loud snigger, "Fufufu… Who's the brat now, eh?" she rarely was allowed to have any fun when around Kakuzu – in the brief moments she had a degree of freedom she leapt on the opportunity for mischief.
"Bonney, turn her back." Kakuzu stooped to enter the cabin. Ffion may have been a child physically only – but after the stern look she received from the dark skinned stranger with those strange, cold eyes she felt like a child on the inside too and simply mouthed her words in fright. Her confidence returned somewhat as a begrudging Bonney waved her hand in Ffion's direction and her body seemingly filled with air and inflated to its normal size. "Ms. Owens – we can introduce ourselves later. Suffice to say my reasons for this visit are to bring you under my employ; Dyran offered me a glowing resume on your behalf, and we can talk details at a later time. However as the ship is sinking fast I would recommend we evacute to my ship as soon as possible."
"W-wait! What about Aokiji?!" cried Ffion in panic, remembering the monster who demolished her crew with little more than a gesture.
Kakuzu stopped his retreat and set his gaze upon her again, causing her to cower somewhat. "Temporarily indisposed."
At that moment a breeze carrying a grey storm came to rest on a shore miles away – where Aokiji fully formed, breathing heavily. That last attack resembled something from Borsalino's repertoire, and seemed just as effective on him. He had little doubt the mark on his neck and shoulder would leave a scar he would be forced to carry with him for the rest of his life. Aokiji had never been in this position – had never experienced a loss of this scale and felt the weight of this many dead comrades on his shoulders. He had failed them. With a rare display of emotion tears formed in the eyes of the Vice-Admiral, and with fury in his voice he growled, "Kakuzu… You are far too dangerous to be left alive. I swear upon all that is righteous – you will face my justice."
XXX
Tall Pesat – (Catalonian) – Heavy Cut – Haki empowered Sword Slash.
Primer Lament de Pescador: Frenesí – (Catalonian) – Fisherman's First Lament: Frenzy – channelling Haki to the legs and through the spear, the user circles the single foe and rains blows upon them. The piercing power is dramatically increased. More effective when used underwater.
Raiton: Saigo no Sengou no Jutsu – Lightning Release: Final Flash – a paralysing jolt which attacks the nerves of an opponent it comes into contact with. Can be resisted if used to experiencing lightning chakra, or through force.
Katon: Yaketsuku yōna kanketsusen no Jutsu – Fire Release: Searing Geyser – stirring up chakra in the stomach, the user emits a liquid at boiling temperature.
Katon: Moeru Matsuri – Fire Release: Blazing Celebration – a cascade of blue and violet flames. When used with its lightning counterpart makes a more powerful Light Release technique.
Raiton: Kenmeina kānibaru no Jutsu – Lightning Release: Enlightening Carnival – a cascade of yellow and red electricity. When used with its fire counterpart makes a more powerful Light Release technique.
Katon: Gōryūka no Jutsu – Fire Release: Great Fire Dragon – a fire-breath attack which takes the form of a ferocious dragon. Long range and high power.
XXX
Fight scenes are harder to write and I'm not sure I do them very well at my current stage. I think this is largely due to action being a bit of a visual medium, but I'll read a few Kenchi618 stories and hopefully improve my style in this area. The fact this chapter felt like filler didn't make the procedure enjoyable either.
Sorry for pelting you with OC's – if I can help it I'll try and keep them on the down low, or at least do the anime-cliché of bringing in characters referenced in other literature (I think there might be an anime/manga drinking game where you take a shot every time you find a series with Alice in Wonderland elements in it…) Initially I was planning on introducing the majority of the crew after a timeskip – then I realised that might be a copout. And considering there's quite a lot of stuff I can do before then – I'll make use of the time I've got to try and establish the characters early. Do let me know if I'm lining up to jump the shark – I'd like to avoid that if possible :p
On the flipside I really enjoyed writing Kuzan – he's a fun character to write and watch, and allowed me to put some pressure on Kakuzu's character by extension. I don't want people to feel he's cakewalking his way to One Piece. Much like Coby, Garp and Helmeppo he embodies a side to marines that isn't often seen – someone who believes in justice but not with the dogmatic way the majority of them do.
Let me know your thoughts – tell me how you feel about my characterisation of the OCs in particular, considering your opinions on them are based solely on my writing. If it's considered poor I'll try and improve it next time.
Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far as well – I've enjoyed reading them all, and they genuinely motivate me.