Chapter 5: Master | Disciple
Summary: Sengoku gets his Devil Fruit.
"Go, hide Sengoku! Don't let them find you!"
He stood frozen on the spot, the screams from outside like nothing he could have truly imagined. Worse than the time Moshe broke his ankle falling down the stairs. In Sengoku's ten years of life, he could not recall ever hearing anything that terrified him so deeply.
The screams of the villagers below the temple were a chorus for the cries from his Brothers and Sisters. How could this be happening? This morning, after the breaking of the fast, it was lessons as usual, meditation practice.
Master Bhiti shoved his shoulder, making him stumble backward. "Go!" he yelled just as a great cracking and rushing noise filled the air. The mighty stone lion's head at the gates crumbled to pieces.
His older Brothers and Sisters rushed towards the entrance, staves in hand. Without looking back, Master Bhiti moved to follow them, leaving Sengoku behind. The Buddha says the root of all suffering is attachment. Sengoku only now understood.
He scrambled to his feet, running. Running.
This was the oldest temple, said to be founded by the Buddha himself, where he lived and died. For over a thousand years, the temple has stood. Here, they farmed enough to live. Here, a village grew slowly around the base, men and women and children living their lives according to the dharma.
Sengoku's own parents were among them, himself the second born son. An honor for his family to become a monk, though he could hardly recall his mother's face. The village below was now just smoke. So thick, a coughing miserable mass of despair.
The temple was built slowly, by many hands. Maintained by ones like himself in-between lessons. Here he ran past the wing where he practiced kanji. Flames licked at the roof. There was where he took morning prayers. Rubble. Sister Medha lay on the ground, eyes staring sightlessly upward. Just yesterday, she was showing him yarrow in the medicinal garden.
Into the main temple and up the stairs. Up and up and up. Where could he hide? Everywhere was to ruin by the blood red ships in the harbor. Their living, breathing human contents swarming his home. They took the lanterns, the statues, the tapestries. All things sacred and precious.
Tears blurred Sengoku's vision, and it was then he fell. His foot had caught on the cracked remains of a stupa's walls, not even the monk entombed inside safe from this– this…
A wail tore from his mouth but it was lost in the cacophony of flames and violence.
There was nowhere he could hide. There was nowhere he could run. These invaders would take everything, including his life. Their treasures, their very lives to be ripped away! It was then something came over him. Later, much later, he would look back upon this moment as the closest and the farthest from enlightenment he would ever be.
"What is that, Master Bihiti?" he'd asked, as they entered the highest room of the temple. Carved into the mountain, lanterns gave the space a warm glow not unlike the dying embers of a cooking fire. A massive tiled depiction of the Buddha himself took up the far wall. And before him, on an innately carved wooden pedestal, sat an object he had never seen before. Strange golden swirls with multiple curling tendrils made up its shape. Like the Buddha's hands that grew in the gardens on the south slope.
"That is our most sacred treasure. The Buddha himself blessed this, and we are tasked with its safe keeping. One day, this too shall be your task, when you finish your studies."
Something filled the gaping hole of pain in his heart. He knew what he had to do, what only he could do. Sengoku raced for the top of the temple. These pirates may take their lives, their sacred objects, but they would not take this.
On he ran, past his desperate and fighting brothers and sisters. Past their sleeping rooms. Past where he had eaten breakfast this morning, a lifetime ago. Until he reached the door, just ahead of the invading force. Just ahead of their cackling laughter and the sound of shattered life. The lanterns in the room were still lit. The Buddha was gazing down upon him.
Time seemed to slow as he reached the dais, arm outstretched to take the Hand. It felt rough under his fingernails, the golden swirls pulsing in his vision. A crashing behind him as the door was carved in two, the metal of a terrible axe gleaming wickedly. Sengoku could not hope to fight them off. But that did not mean they would win. They would lose out on their greatest treasure!
Sengoku looked the first monster in the eyes, brought the Hand to his mouth, and took a bite.
Notes: There are a number of inaccuracies about Buddhism here. I was taking inspiration and trying to fit things into the world of One Piece.