Chapter 7: A Test of Strength
The early morning light filtered through the mikan trees in the backyard of Nojiko and Nami's home, casting soft golden rays across the ground. Draven was already awake, beads of sweat rolling down his bare back as he worked through his exercises, pushing his body past its limits. His muscles rippled as he moved, each motion deliberate and powerful, driven by the same desire that had been burning inside him for years now: the pursuit of strength. He wondered just how far his body could be pushed, how many limits he could break.
The sound of birds chirping was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious knock on the front door. Draven paused, keeping an ear out. Even from the backyard, he could hear the commotion as Nojiko opened the door, with Nami standing cautiously behind her.
Standing outside were Kuroobi and Chew, two of Arlong's top lieutenants. They grinned maliciously, their sharp teeth glinting as they towered over the doorway.
"We know you've been housing an outsider," Kuroobi sneered, his voice low and threatening. "The villagers have seen him. Bring him out now, or we'll have to make an example out of your little village."
Nami's face paled with fear, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew exactly what Arlong's men were capable of, and she felt the icy grip of dread squeeze her stomach. But before she could say anything, she glanced over at Nojiko, who, much to her surprise, wore a calm, confident smile.
Nojiko hadn't seen Draven in any battles, but there was something about him—an undeniable strength in the way he carried himself, the conviction in his voice when he spoke. It wasn't just his physical presence; it was the quiet, dangerous confidence that seemed to radiate from him. Though she couldn't fully explain it, Nojiko instinctively knew that Draven could handle whatever was coming. It was as if he had faced far greater dangers before, and Arlong's men were just another obstacle in his path.
"Wait here," Nojiko said, unfazed by the fishmen's threats. There was a fire in her eyes now, a confidence she hadn't felt in a long time.
As she stepped into the backyard, she found Draven casually leaning against the house, clearly having been eavesdropping. His posture was relaxed, almost bored. Nojiko hesitated for a moment, taking in how unconcerned he seemed. "You don't look worried at all," she observed, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity.
Draven smirked, pushing off the wall. "Why would I be?" His tone was calm, almost amused, as if the thought of being worried never crossed his mind.
He tossed a towel over his shoulder and strode toward the front door without another word, his bare feet making soft thuds against the wooden floor. When he stepped outside, the bright sunlight illuminated his form, and the two fishmen took notice, their predatory grins widening.
"Well, well, looks like the rat came out of his hole," Chew snarled, cracking his knuckles.
Draven didn't respond at first. He simply scanned them with cold, calculating eyes, already assessing their weaknesses. To him, these fishmen were nothing more than prey—amusing to toy with for a while before putting them down.
Kuroobi, sensing Draven's lack of fear, lunged forward with a roar, his massive hand aiming to crush the boy's throat. But Draven was faster. His movements were effortless as he slipped past the fishman's grasp. Kuroobi's fingers closed around empty air, and Draven spun away, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips.
Chew, not to be outdone, launched a barrage of high-pressure water bullets, each one fast enough to tear flesh. But Draven moved like a shadow, each orb missing him by inches as he danced between them with ease. It was as if the water and fists were moving in slow motion, the fishmen's efforts laughably futile.
"Stand still, you little—!" Kuroobi snarled, swinging wildly again, his frustration mounting as his fists collided with nothing but air. Draven barely had to try. He weaved in and out of their attacks like they were part of a choreographed dance, his eyes gleaming with amusement as the fishmen grew more desperate.
The spectators—Nojiko and Nami—watched from the doorway, their eyes wide in disbelief. Draven seemed like he was untouchable. Nami's skepticism faltered as she watched him casually evade the strikes of two of Arlong's most dangerous men. Nojiko, on the other hand, felt a strange sense of reassurance—there was something terrifyingly capable about him.
After a few more moments of playing with his prey, Draven's amusement faded. It was time to end this farce. His movements shifted, no longer playful but precise—ruthlessly efficient. With blinding speed, his hands shot out, gripping both Kuroobi's and Chew's throats in an iron grip.
Their eyes bulged in shock, realizing too late that they had been outclassed from the start. They clawed at his hands, gasping as his grip tightened, crushing their windpipes in one swift, brutal motion. Draven held them for a second longer, watching their faces turn a sickening shade of purple before releasing them.
The fishmen dropped to the ground, their hands instinctively flying to their throats, desperately trying to suck in air. They writhed in agony, their chests heaving, but it was useless—their windpipes had collapsed, and no matter how hard they struggled, no air came. Panic flared in their eyes as their bodies convulsed, each gasp more desperate than the last.
Draven stood over them, watching with a detached curiosity as their struggles slowed. The fishmen's fingers clawed at their throats, their legs kicking weakly against the ground. But it was a futile battle. The air simply wouldn't come. Within moments, their eyes rolled back, and their bodies went still.
The fight had been over before it even truly began.
Nojiko watched in awe, her earlier confidence solidified. She had known Draven was strong, but to see him so effortlessly dispatch two of Arlong's top men… it was beyond what she could have imagined. There was something unsettlingly calm about the way he moved, like this was all just routine for him. Yet, as she watched Kuroobi and Chew writhe on the ground, gasping for air, she felt a strange, almost morbid satisfaction stirring within her. These men had terrorized her village for years, and now, to witness them die such a slow, agonizing death—it was… liberating. She didn't feel pity, only a deep sense of relief.
Nami, on the other hand, stood frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had never seen anyone challenge Arlong's crew and live, let alone come out completely unscathed. A shiver ran down her spine as she watched their tormentors, once so invincible in her eyes, claw helplessly at their throats, the life draining from their eyes. Part of her was horrified, but another part—a darker, quieter part—couldn't help but feel vindicated. These monsters were finally getting what they deserved.
Draven glanced at the two bodies on the ground, completely unfazed, before turning back to the girls with a casual smile. "Well, that was fun."
Nami found her voice, though it was shaky. "You… you just killed them… so easily."
Draven simply shrugged, as if what he had just done was no more significant than swatting a fly.
Nojiko stepped forward, her expression one of admiration. "Looks like you really are going to be my captain soon."
Draven's smile widened, and he gave her a playful wink.
But as the bodies of Kuroobi and Chew lay motionless on the ground, the reality of what he had done began to sink in for the villagers that bore witness. Arlong would not let this go unanswered. Draven had thrown the first stone, and now it was only a matter of time before Arlong himself would come looking for retribution.
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The sun dipped lower in the sky over Arlong Park, casting long shadows that stretched across the ground like claws. The oppressive heat of the afternoon settled over the domain of the fishmen, and a thick tension hung in the air. Arlong stood at the gate, staring out at the distant horizon, waiting for his men to return from their task. His sharp eyes narrowed as he thought about the news Commodore Nelson had brought. A boy, a potential threat hiding within his territory. At first, he had brushed it off as a mere nuisance. But now, with the sun beginning to set and no sign of Kuroobi and Chew, a slow, simmering rage began to build in his chest.
The minutes stretched into an hour, and still, there was no sign of his crewmates. His gills flared with frustration, and his fingers tapped impatiently against his muscular arm. He knew his men were strong—far stronger than any human scum on this island. For them not to return was an insult he could not ignore.
The gates creaked open as Hachi, the octopus fishman, nervously approached. "Arlong," he called out tentatively, his voice wavering. "Kuroobi and Chew haven't come back yet. Do you think—"
"They're probably dead," Arlong growled, cutting him off with a snarl. His jagged teeth glinted in the fading light, and a low, guttural rumble vibrated through his chest. "That boy… Nelson wasn't just spouting nonsense. He's a threat—a real one."
Hachi's eyes widened, his tentacles twitching nervously. "You think he actually…?"
Arlong didn't answer right away. His eyes were cold, calculating. He had underestimated this boy, whoever he was. But he wouldn't make that mistake again. Slowly, he turned away from the gate and headed toward his private chambers, his heavy footsteps echoing through the park. "Stay here," he barked at Hachi. "And get the others ready. We're going hunting tonight."
Inside his chambers, the walls were decorated with maps of the East Blue, charts showing his ambitions to expand his territory and tighten his grip over the surrounding islands. A large desk sat against the far wall, cluttered with papers, treasure maps, and trinkets. Arlong moved with a predatory grace, his eyes narrowing as he approached the desk. His fingers ran over the surface before he pressed a hidden latch underneath.
With a soft click, a hidden compartment slid open. Inside was a small, intricately carved wooden box. Arlong opened it with a careful yet deliberate motion, revealing a small bag filled with red and blue checkered pills. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, and a malicious grin spread across his face, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.
"Energy Steroids," Arlong muttered to himself, his voice laced with dark amusement. "Been saving these for a special occasion."
The pills were rare and dangerous. Their effects were potent, exponentially increasing a fishman's strength for a short time—at a severe cost. But that didn't matter. If this boy thought he could come into Arlong's territory, kill his men, and walk away unscathed, he was dead wrong. This time, Arlong would crush him—personally.
He slipped the bag of pills into his pocket, a sinister grin spreading across his face. The boy wanted a fight, and Arlong would give him one. But he wasn't taking any chances. He had faced troublesome humans before, but something about this one was different, he could feel it.
Arlong turned and bellowed toward the door, his voice booming through Arlong Park. "Hachi! Get everyone ready! We're moving now!"
Hachi, along with the remaining crew—Pisaro, Shioyaki, and a handful of other members—scrambled into action. They recognized this side of Arlong, the side that only appeared when he was truly enraged, ready to kill. They knew better than to hesitate.
Arlong stormed out of his chambers, his powerful legs propelling him forward with a sense of purpose. The air around him felt charged, the tension palpable as he surveyed his crew. His eyes gleamed with cold fury, his voice rumbling as he addressed them.
"Listen up!" Arlong roared. "That boy… that human… he dared to kill our brothers. He thinks he can walk into our seas, into our territory, and challenge us? We'll show him. We'll make him regret ever stepping foot here."
The crew roared in agreement, their voices filled with bloodlust and loyalty to their captain.
"We're not just gonna kill him," Arlong continued, his voice low and venomous. "We're gonna make sure anyone who crosses us remembers this night. We rule these seas, and no human, no matter how strong they think they are, can change that."
The fishmen erupted into cheers, their anticipation for violence rising. Arlong could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling his fury. He glanced at Hachi, who was already barking orders and organizing the crew for their assault. The path to Cocoyashi was clear. Draven wouldn't be hiding for long.
As they marched toward the village, Arlong's hand brushed the bag of pills in his pocket, his grin widening. "You think you can get away with killing my people, boy?" he muttered under his breath. "Fuckin' human." He spat with contempt.
The fishmen advanced like a storm over the land, their steps heavy, their purpose deadly. Blood would be spilled tonight, and Arlong was certain it wouldn't be his.