Lazy justice si

by Dextrode

Posted for tts. Og on space battles. Not updating

"Here's another sexy lady with super big bazongas! Are you free tonight?"

Damn Kuzan, couldn't you have given me a better script to work with?

The man has good taste though, I'll give him that.

Anyhow, if my memory serves me right, Sanji and Usopp would butt in… right about now.

"What's the big idea, you tall lanky jerk?!"

"Pay attention you jerk!"

There it was.

And then my line was…

"Calm down guys, geez, I was only taking a scroll."

Something like that? I got less and less confident in my memory the longer the conversation went on, I was almost sure there were a few discrepancies, hopefully however they wouldn't be big enough to actually make a difference.

Lazily raising my face, I once again took in their appearances. A green-haired swordsman, a scrawny long-nosed boy, a black-haired archeologist, an orange-haired navigator, a blonde cook, a reindeer, and what brought it all together…

A small rubbery boy with a straw hat.

This was the savior, the messiah, the promised one or whatchamacallit.

I didn't see it.

Not one bit.

Maybe it was because I was over three meters tall now, but damn did they look insignificant.

Like sticks which would shrivel up and crack under the lightest winter breeze.

Weak.

But I'm sure that was just my inexperienced eyes fooling me.

Probably.

Although I retained most of Kuzan's memories and experiences, they functioned more as a movie that I had watched rather than anything I had emotion and connected with on a personal level. It was as if it had been sectioned off so that it didn't imprint in any way on the person I had been before transmigrating. Even if it had, I didn't notice it anyhow. We were of the same temperament even before this mumbo jumbo situation happened, so even if there were some slight changes, it wouldn't bother me much anyway.

We(?) were cool like that.

So, even if I had a decent idea of how I would go about handling myself in a fight, it would be wrong to say that I was at peak strength. It would be more accurate to liken my current situation to a good impersonation.

Mind you, that was in no way insignificant, few would be able to push me around as it stood, none who were in my near vicinity, so I wasn't stressing much about it.

Still, my sense of danger and power was probably the most out of whack, I gathered, I wasn't getting many signals from the straw-hats at all, only slightly more than the group of stranded civilians I helped reach a populated island just before heading back here.

They couldn't possibly be that weak.

Probably.

Though I can't claim to have finished reading the story, there was undoubtedly a happy ever after finish for this world as a consequence of these sevens' soon to be more adventures. This was the crew that would supposedly change the world for the better, once and for all. Going around helping kingdoms and taking down vile pirates and government operatives alike, they were the integral force which this worlds development revolved around, starring in the arguably greatest manga in existence, One Piece.

If there were any interaction I most definitely shouldn't mess up, it would be this one.

Although it should be noted that the ten days long battle with Sakazuki was also high up on that list, for other reasons entirely.

Actually… wouldn't it be alright to avoid that one altogether?

Yeah, let's just not.

Once more looking at the group, I noted that they all had bizarre expressions on their face, Robin the most obvious of them all, stuck terror-stricken. The rest of the groups relaxed mood had died an early death, most of them already standing at attention, ready for combat.

Ah.

Did I end up leaking some sort of bad intent during my reverie?

Probably.

They were staring.

"Arara?"

Kuzan used to say that a lot no? The perfect filler in a conversation, which would magically fix any awkward situation?

I saw a few twitched faces here and there, but they remained silent.

Well.

Off-road it was then, improvising was something I was good at, having become intimate with the way of life during my education from start it to finish. I only needed to scare them a bit, right? Help them learn to take future fights more seriously? And show Robin how fragile the group as a whole was? I think I can do that. Hopefully I don't embarrass myself.

"Actually, never mind."

With a dramatic wave of my hand, shifting my stance to a more serious one, I pointed one of my fingers up into the air, the gravitas of the situation growing heavy with the movement.

"Got orders from up above. You're all targets."

"Got orders from up above. You're all targets."

The words were uttered softly, but Robin was able to pick up on the icy intent hidden beneath right away. Though it had been a long time since they saw each other, the marine named Kuzan had made a deep impression on her. As the direct cause of death of her dear childhood friend Saul, and the only reason she managed to escape Ohara alive, saying that she had conflicting feelings regarding him would be putting it lightly.

In her years growing up, she had oft thought about him. Anger. Despair. Gratitude. Such sentiments were the most often felt. She had also pictured how their "reunion" would go about several times. Some were happy, some were sad.

Yet, in all of her daydreams, she hadn't ever imagined the detached expression currently adorning his face. As if this was just another day for him, and she was just an unknown pirate he had little to no attachment to. The thought left her despairing, what little hope she had gained in humanity since accompanying the straw-hat pirates cracking. Surely… he hadn't forgotten about her? For some reason, the possibility hurt her more than if he had been openly antagonistic.

That couldn't be the case however, he had been specifically sent after them. After her.

Him.

An Admiral.

Few knew the level of battle power such a figure represented better than her, combat bred things forged to fight the true terrors of the sea. If she were to be honest, she had trouble believing that they were the of same species, their feats so deity-like any comparisons were rendered mute, even other "superhumans" paled set up against their image.

And he was sent out here to pluck some unruly weeds, like some errand boy.

"Orders from above.", he had said.

The people in positions of power to do such things were few, first to mind was the fleet admiral, Sengoku. Her hunch, however, told her to look in the direction of the world government, and their ruling figures in the five elder stars.

Was she really that important, to warrant such cruel headhunting?

Was it so big a sin to be curious?

She didn't think so, and had never had bad intentions in her thirst for knowledge.

The world cared little.

She didn't know where her disposition and dreams originated from, not truly. They felt too strong and too right to have a flimsy starting point. It was something innate, which would tug at her strongly whenever her thoughts of abandoning her search for better safety.

She felt like she couldn't live without knowing, but if the world was to keep pushing her down like this, with her troubles and situation not even phasing the man who had unknowingly taken up a core part of her mind and heart, maybe it was to better to just… just…

Another tug.

No, that wasn't the answer.

Kuzan hadn't called her out by name, but she had felt his eyes linger on her frame for a second too long earlier. Would he have come to apprehend the pirate group had she not joined them? She didn't think so.

He had struck her as a compassionate man the last time they met, by marine standards anyhow. Though as aforementioned, a long time had passed. Maybe he had changed, maybe he only had a soft spot for children, it didn't matter much in the end.

She was grown now, with all that entailed.

With growth, came experience, and her experience was telling her that…

Battle was imminent.

"You think we're just gonna lie down and take it? Try if you can, you bum!"

Sanji.

"That's right! You think you can come here and threaten my crew just like that? I've got a bone to pick with you too!"

Luffy.

"I'll cut you."

Zoro.

All fools.

"Guys!" Robin all but screeched, her remaining composure dying an early death in the face of her companion's incomprehensible charge into danger, "this is not a fight you can win!"

She knew they must have heard her, for she saw the hardening of their features, as they once more committed themselves to their decision. The nervous gazes of the rest of the crew also zeroed in on her.

Luffy reared his head towards her, voice unusually gentle, "Robin, have some faith in your captain, alright?"

Sanji, not one to be outdone, quickly followed up "That's right, Robin-chan! You just sit back and watch the show!"

Zoro made that grunt of his, "If I die here, then I'm a man that could only make it this far."

At least he was realistic.

They were foolhardy and stubborn to a fault, and wore their heart on their sleeve. This was the type of crew she had decided to join up with. It was both their biggest strength and worst weakness.

They had made many mistakes and reckless decisions throughout their journey so far.

She had a feeling this one would be the last.

"If you're all done talking…" Like a boogeyman, Kuzan once more entered the picture, the almost touching scene breaking apart as he unleashed that intimidating aura of his.

Should she run?

Tug.

She had a feeling that was the wrong decision.

Without warning, the grassy plain in which they were occupying burst into white frosty terrain, cold snuffing out whatever semblance of warmth that had ever existed in the area. Hallowing winds erupted as a consequence of the temperature change, spawning white fogs in the process, ice particles flying within. It obscured much of the surrounding sight, leaving the pirate group in the eye of the storm.

Combat starting, Robins mind quickly turned analytical, terror momentarily set aside. She gingerly put her right hand inside the raging blizzard currently surrounding them, eyes widening not even a moment later. She hurriedly took it out, hesitantly touching the now almost frozen stiff limb, already almost numb to most senses.

Retreating seemed impossible. Never mind the normal body of her, Usopp, Chopper and Nami, even the fantastically rubbery body of her captain would probably find it a difficult thing to traverse the storm. Most important of all she had no way of knowing exactly just how large the thing was, sight impossible for more than three meters out into it.

Her motions now more mechanical than anything else, she turned back around to the earlier resolute figures of her crewmates, now openly shivering, casting several glances around looking for the marine, Kuzan long since obscured by the blizzard.

Should-

Tug.

she-

Tug.

run?

Tug.

She lost her train of thought without reaching a conclusion, when she suddenly caught sight of several giant phantoms approaching from all angles, their terrifying visage managing to break through the storm. Their approach shook the ground, several sets of feet trampling the earth into smithereens. Howls were mixed with bloodcurdling shrieks as the wind surrounding them began to pick up to something even more fierce. One after another, they stepped into full view, solid crystalized form shown on full display. They stood sentinel, seemingly happy to stand as onlookers for now.

The scene caused the hearts of all of the pirates to pound, regardless of their own respective physical strength. The surrounding wind was growing more and more blurry. As for their expressions, no remaining hint of confidence could be found.

Materializing from seemingly nothing, Kuzan appeared in front of them once again. The same apathetic look present, the cold not fazing him in the slightest. "You aren't ready." He said despondently, as if it was a shame.

Sanji, being the closest, saw the chance for what it was. Within striking distance, discarded the surrounding frost which had formed around him, and hurriedly made to strike with his right foot.

Kuzan seemed to see the movement before it even happened, lazily raising his hand to block it, even before impact radiating a void coldness which made even Robin at a large distance pause in disbelief.

Sanji, being the closest, of course saw it too, but he could do nothing more than complete the movement, the force committed too much for him to pull back now.

He was pretty sure he should have felt pain, but all that remained was numbness, one second his foot was there, the next…

Gone.

Shattered.

To dust.

"SANJI!" Came the guttural collective roar of both Zoro and Luffy, incoherent cries coming out from the rest of the crew.

Robin saw that both Zoro and Luffy made to fight Kuzan, who himself had an absurdly strange expression on his face, but her mind was elsewhere.

SHE-

Tug.

HAD-

TUG.

TO-

TUG. TUG. TUG.

RUN.

Finally, she could feel something breaking inside her. She didn't know how or what, but something had changed. At first, she worried that it might have been some blood vessels, but the cracking, haunting sound that suddenly filled her ears sounded more like a carriage filled with glass getting run through by a sea-king. The world around her seemed to shift, distorting in a way only she seemed able to see. All of it was hard to process, but in those few blurry seconds after, all she was left with was an incredible sense of freedom. And with it-

She bolted.

Gone was any and all inhibition. Filled with new purpose and sense of autonomy, she charged through hellish surrounding blizzard with reckless abandon.

Immediately, she knew something was off. Though its appearance was the same, the temperature of the blizzard was much milder. While not comfortable, it didn't hurt her body in any impactful manner.

Despite the intelligent, sane part of herself telling her to just fully grasp this chance of escape, she ended up turning back towards Kuzan in bewilderment.

She was surprised to see him meeting the gaze, with an intensity she didn't know him capable of producing. Somehow, he managed to match her bewilderment, looking at her like one would while trying to finish a puzzle with missing pieces.

Once again, her emotions were made a mess. He obviously held her in some significant regard, which excited her in a way which she didn't know how to put in words. Her life, situation and issues mattered to someone who knew the whole of the person named Nico Robin.

He was looking after her, in his own way, it seemed. Did he not approve of her current companions? Did he want her to be alone? Did he orchestrate this for her to break free from that predestined path she had unknowingly been following?

She didn't know.

She didn't need to know.

For now.

She broke his gaze as soon as Luffy and Zoro entered into combat with him, surprisingly, he chose not to touch either, opting instead to dodge around in a seemingly endless dance.

She felt the need to turn and continue running, and feeling the thought having no outside influence, she happily gave in, not sparing anything else a second glance as she vanished from view into the blizzard.

So, I started this with the intent of it being a comedy, the starting thought was literally an SI having to say the phrase "super big bazongas", but it evolved/devolved into this thing as I wrote. It is intentional that the writing changes between the different points of views, intentionally being more relaxed and silly in first person, and more serious from other sources. The shift may be a bit too much though...? The change of mood seemed a bit too extreme even though it was intentional, but at the same time, straying from the original vision of the SI having some silly thoughts and not quite understanding the magnitude of his decisions would feel bad, and mess up quite a few future encounters I have thought out. This setup establishes early on that he's really in over his head, despite packing quite the punch, sometimes too much for his own good, as shown above. Though I feel odd about it, Im still happy with it, as it is. Still, curious how you all feel about it. I happily welcome all well-intentioned responses, thanks for reading.

142

Guthut

Jul 3, 2021

View discussion

Threadmarks Overwhelmingly Lazy Justice [One Piece SI] Ch 2

View content

Guthut

Guthut

Jul 10, 2021

#15

I retract my earlier statement.

Improvising was apparently something I was decidedly not good at; dare I say horrendous.

Should have figured that to be the case, really.

Being able to produce passable class presentations by the process of skimming through a few Wikipedia pages evidently didn't prepare me much when it came to altering worldviews and motivations of others through deceptive mortal combat.

Who would have thought?

Apparently not me.

Confidence was all well and good, there was a reason it was lauded both in this world and my former one, after all. But my most of the time vain baseless pride had a knack for putting me into some pretty uncomfortable situations, even by my standards.

This was one of them.

Robin having left to god knows where, and Sanji missing a leg. Either one of these would be a severe cannon divergence, and combined?

A guaranteed shit show, that's what.

I'd long since left the uninhabited island, leaving the pirate group post haste after Robin left, and reached marine HQ a few days ago. It didn't take much convincing for the first marine ship I came across to give me a ride, with the commanding officer nearly fainting at the sight of me waving from a patch of ice in the middle of the ocean, bicycle at the standby.

Speaking off, said bicycle ended up being an unexpected windfall I found as well. The miniscule power output necessary to keep a trail of ice even, constantly going and not stupendously large was a great way to train my control over the output of my devil fruit powers which I so obviously lacked; memories be damned. It certainly didn't help the matter that the former Kuzan no doubt pushed both his fruit and his bodies' ability to channel the fruit to its utmost limits, and then some. For some time, it left me feeling like a disgustingly roided up baby, all power and no control.

But, as aforementioned, I've gotten a lot better at it using the bike, the memories coming in handy to more quickly get a handle on it.

Though, it should be noted that I might have changed a few climates during my trials and errors, a panic application of my power usually the response when I messed up, not wanting to fall into the ocean. A few dozen large glaciers came into existence this way, which I honestly had no good frame of reference for how long would last. Hopefully they didn't obstruct some crucial trade routes, marine surveillance paths or the like.

If it did?

Well.

Were they going to come to my office, and complain?

To me, an Admiral?

Ha-ha.

Being so high up on the ladder in power was fun.

Still wanted to leave the marines though.

Yeah.

Not even including the element of unpredictability that's now in motion because of my actions, the Summit War of Marineford was a mess of indescribable proportions that most probably still is going to happen. Even though the Kuzan of cannon was able to come out of it relatively unscathed, recent experiences in mind, I would be a fool to think it would play out the same this time around. I could of course actively try to prevent it, but at this point I would rather try to preserve whatever semblance of predictability the world held for my safety in the coming months, which most definitely were the most turbulent in recent times.

Would preventing it possibly lead to an overall better world?

It could.

Would participating and actively trying to recreate the original events have a positive overall effect?

Probably.

Would I realistically try to achieve either?

No.

I believe myself to neither be an inherently evil nor good person. I actively do small acts of kindness as long as they are of no expense to me, and I'm capable of mustering great amounts of effort concerning matters dealing with people I hold in significant regard.

Did that mean I wanted to actively oppose the world government, knowing all the shady happenings in which they have a hand in?

No, not really.

I am a consciously selfish person. Sue me.

Still, just up and leaving the premise for a lengthy amount of time without telling anybody wouldn't really be appropriate either. It would raise more than a fair share of suspicion, and it would actively gain me enemies within the world government and marines. That was a big no-no.

That being the case, since arriving to HQ, I'd gone through all the painstaking effort and procedures necessary required to meet the most prestigious person inside the marines, the fleet Admiral, Sengoku, The Buddha. Leader of the organization which in practice functions as the muscles of the world government, the group which had a chokehold on the majority of the world.

All of this was actually quite the hurdle for most officers within the marines, most requests of audience needing one to two weeks of being processed, after which it was uncertain if it would be granted at all, and even then, it could require a time period of months to actually be realized.

Me though?

A knock on the door was all it required, if even that.

Which is how I found myself sitting face to face with the living marine legend in a divinely comfortable couch.

God, I was going to miss this part of the job so much.

It was a luxurious office by anyone's standard, much like my own, though with a few personalization differences. Though as with them both, it was predominantly occupied by sleek, high end wooden furniture exclusively in the colors of white and blue.

As for the man himself, he had an odd look on his face, face scrunched up in obvious distaste.

"Kuzan."

I raised my head from the base of my palm as he called my name, head ringing all the while.

"Yes, sir." I call back at him, a muted smile present on my lips.

That was the wrong answer, apparently, Sengoku's face distorting through a multitude of emotion, starting with anger, and ending at worry.

"You reek of alcohol. I haven't seen you like this since Zephyrs' retirement." He decided to say, voice even.

"Is that so." I answered. Whether it was a question or statement, I wasn't sure.

That was another thing.

I was of the opinion that both me and Kuzan were humans, people, despite our not often fluctuating emotions.

And whatever potential amalgamation of us certainly was too.

I would know.

That being the case, it should almost be expected that the entirety of my situation would induce quite the significant amount of stress.

Which I had a bad habit of dealing with from my past life.

Namely, drinking.

Nicely put, I was hobby drinker.

I gathered most would probably call me an alcoholic though.

Hmm.

I've mostly grown past it, but I relapse every now and then, despite my best efforts. Now was such a time.

Ignoring the mess that was my existence in and of itself, every time I would imagine the result of my every action and inaction, I would tense up. It was a strange feeling, knowing every piece on the chess board without being sure what move it would do- could do, and what consequences it would have down the line.

Only a complete sociopath would be able to shrug of the implications like they were nothing.

Yet, I was an honest man, with myself if no one else, and knew that my life was paramount.

The War was on the horizon, despite few people knowing yet. It was hard to guess how long it would take for the world government, and by extension marines to clamp down protectively over any and all resources it would need. If I remembered correctly, it was vice-admirals which were sent gather the Warlords, even the unruly ones, like Boa Hancock, which predictably needed either special circumstances or overwhelming force to secure them to comply. By that point, the admirals were most likely holed up securely within HQ, dissuading any and all attempts to pre-emptively strike at their greatest battle force.

Which is why I needed to leave, pronto.

One could call my approach reckless, hasty, and not well planned out. Worst of all, it would be a fair assessment, too.

Still, inaction wasn't an option either, because of the aforementioned reasons. It was now or never.

Adopting a depressingly familiar movement, the one which heralded the titanic mess my entry into this world was, I slowly raised a single finger into the air, my face turning solemn with the movement.

"We're both men who'd rather cut to the chase, Sengoku, so I'll be upfront with you. I've gotten orders from up above. I am to leave public view indefinitely to perform them."

Leading the marines was a thankless job, and most often a lonely one as well.

As its official zenith, he could suffer no weakness in the form of civilian relations, and he could have no equal. He was to be prime, spotless and a visage all younger generations of marines should strive towards becoming even a fraction of.

He had a heavy reputation, forged through many battles during his tenure of that which was called the The Great Age of Pirates. A reputation he had to wield actively to the masses, while still remaining unapproachable, infallible. Starting sometime in the last decade, he had begun to feel his figure become larger than the life it held. There existed very few people he felt a genuine connection and comradery to anymore, jaded as he had become in his later years. The number dwindled, most taken by age, others, pirates. Remaining was the buffoon Garp, the ever lovely Tsuru-

And Kuzan.

Admiral Kuzan, often called by the epithet Aokiji, was one such person.

Which was why it incensed him so that the government had apparently decided to further involve the man in more shady dealings.

Few high-ranking officers remained untainted from their touch, but Sengoku thought- no, knew that Kuzan had given his due, and then some. He had highly powerful and versatile abilities, which were constantly taken use of during his earlier years in the marines. Sengoku had thought him untouchable as he was, a bright beacon in the marines as an admiral, cherished among all but a few bitter old men, but it turned out not to be the case.

"Is that so?" He decided to say, intentionally mirroring Kuzan's own comment only moments prior. Though seemingly unperturbed, Sengoku had gained a golden sheen to his eye, the only indication of the raging Buddha within.

Close companions as they were few words were needed to communicate properly, hidden meanings within or not.

It was a good thing too, as he had recently started suspecting that his office had been bugged, his every movement and speech being monitored by the government. He had no concrete proof, and was always subtly looking for any, as it never hurt to be on the safe side.

They had taught him as much.

"Ha-ha." Kuzan chuckled, but unsurprisingly, Sengoku didn't sense a smidge of mirth within.

Seeing a dead end of questioning when presented with one, Sengoku changed route.

"Estimated length of leave?"

"Unknown."

"Sea of Destination?"

"Undisclosable."

"Paradise or New world?"

"Undisclosable."

"Nature of the mission?"

"Undisclosable. Subject to change."

Sengoku damn well near punched the man in front of him out of frustration, the entirety of his body now leaking out a subtle colour of gold, the only outwards indication of his slipping patience.

He knew however, that his current anger was misplaced, outrageously so even. Kuzan was more of a victim than he, his pale countenance and drunken form obviously in a state of great misery.

Yet, despite the obvious signals of distress his friend was sending him, he hadn't the faintest idea of how he could go about helping him.

A figure larger than life indeed.

The Buddha.

Powerless to help one of his few remaining friends.

Suddenly, a harsh knock resounded throughout the room. Moments later, a black-haired suit clad man entered the room, not bothering to pay any respect to his office in the process.

Sengoku would have called the man unremarkable, only out of many similar figures making up the grunt force of the government.

Fact was however, that he found them astounding, in how lacking each and every one of them proved to be in empathy. He likened their look as a god would gaze at a human, a human would an animal, and an animal would prey.

Disgusting.

"Admiral Aokiji. You have been summoned. You will come. Now."

Sengoku turned towards Kuzan, hoping to gleam his thoughts, ready to paste the demon wearing the guise of a human into a smear of blood on the wall given the right sign.

No such discomfort was shown however, Kuzan's features turning neutral as he mechanically made to move after the government operative.

Like a man walking towards his own execution.

Why did it feel like a goodbye?

Kuzan had sought him out, clearly in need of help, but he could do naught but watch as the door closed behind him, the tall, strong and reliable form of his favoured admiral and friend disappearing from view.

Sengoku once more evaluated the value of continuing this farce of peace and justice the government had forced over the world, cloaked in its lies and deceits.

One thing had come out of this however, though if it was a good or bad, was hard to say at the time.

He was indeed being monitored.

The timing of the agent was too perfect for anything else to be the case, probably sprinting over as soon as Kuzan made mention of his mission.

This day, he clearly felt his lack of agency.

Frankly, it didn't exist, practically powerless from those above him in the hierarchy.

Neither would they let him have it if he asked.

So, he would simply have to create it himself.

The framework had been laid out long ago, but he had needed a push.

Well, he had gotten it.

SWORD was to start its operations.

Right.

This.

Instant.

125

Guthut

Jul 10, 2021

View discussion

Threadmarks Overwhelmingly Lazy Justice [One Piece SI] Ch 3

View content

Guthut

Guthut

Aug 31, 2021

#30

Kuzan stood statue-still in the antechamber outside of the council room doors, waiting to be admitted. He had been forced to bath-though hurried along before he had the chance to shave his unkempt cheeks-and stood in his official marine wear, officer cloak hung fashionably over his frame, small parts of brilliant blue color highlighted by the pristine white which was present elsewhere.

After but a few moments, one of the council room doors soundlessly swung open, after which the same agent sent to retrieve him ushered him inside.

Five high-ranking individuals sat around a disproportionally small table, their relatively towering visages almost managing to make the otherwise serious scene comical, but no. As though cut from jade, their sharp and distinct features tore whatever sense of levity potentially present brutally down. Each of them represented a vital facet of the Government, each having responsibility for individual core functions within it. Yet, even while taking in all of the opinions from the lesser nobles-the royal families from around the world in support of the Government, they would together, with differing viewpoints hash out a plan in which was most just and fair for everyone involved.

Or, at the very least, that was the picture they intended to project towards the world at large.

They were deep in discussion, and initially, paid Kuzan no mind. The smallest of the five elderly men met his gaze briefly, and held his hand up, motioning for him to wait. Kuzan saluted slowly and incorrectly, earning a few irked eyebrows among them, yet, they made no move to include him in the conversation just yet.

Kuzan briefly entertained the idea of listening in to what they were talking about, but found himself unable to, only incomprehensible murmurs without any rhyme or reason entering his ears. It didn't feel natural, but he couldn't be bothered to do much about it.

The hurried fashion in which he was hunted down and rushed here was starkly contrasted with the time it took for him to actually be addressed. Minutes passed and still- still, they did not acknowledge his existence with more than a passing glance. It didn't take a lot of brainpower to conclude it was a powerplay of sorts.

Good thing then, that Kuzan's nerves were frayed to the point that the bothersome treatment he was getting not only didn't faze him, but allowed him to better gather his thoughts and control his emotions.

Small mercies and all that.

"We are in agreement, then," said the visibly youngest looking member of the group, his blonde hair still present among the otherwise white- and bald-headed men. His words were met with a combination of nods and muttered affirmations, some of which were happier sounding than others.

As if on cue, the five of them turned to stare at him, coldly appraising him. Kuzan resisted the impulse to look away.

"Admiral Aokiji," the blonde said, by way of greeting.

"Elders," was Kuzan's somewhat flippant answer, spoken without hesitation.

"The admirals are the World Government's finest," the blonde continued, the only one of the group unperturbed. "They act as a unit as our strongest bulwark against both the savages at sea, and any unrest from within. And yet…" he paused briefly, "I've heard that your last mission ended in failure. The pirate; Nico Robin, The Devil Child. She still eludes our grasp?"

"Correct," said Kuzan.

"Correct," the elder repeated. "And same with the rest of the pirate crew, which you've been made aware of has several high priority targets, all managed to flee?"

"Correct," said Kuzan.

"Correct," the elder once more repeated, a tinge of annoyance marring his tone. "I would not have thought a man as capable as yourself would find it so difficult a task to tackle, hatchlings as they are."

Kuzan firmly stared forward, face stoic.

"Well, some stuff happened, I guess."

"..You guess?!" another elder spat, as if the words were poison, destroying the picture he otherwise maintained as a calm monk.

The blonde elder gave a noncommittal grunt, full of judgment. His eyes moved briefly to a paper parchment situated on the central table, before once again resting on Kuzan. "But this was not the reason we summoned you," he said. "In light of your good service the last decades, the aforementioned mistakes wouldn't have warranted a meeting like this, a small reproach, perhaps, if even that would have sufficed."

"However, we've come to know that you've invoked our authority to leave for unknown amount of time, and worse- to an undisclosable destination?"

Kuzan straightened his usually slumped posture, sensing the severity of the situation. "That is incorrect."

The elders collectively clenched their jaws.

The monk abruptly glared at Kuzan, his eyes wild.

"If this is your idea of a joke, know that it is in. Very. Poor. Taste." He snarled. "It has come to question whether to not you have the governments best interest at heart."

"Er," said Kuzan, seemingly caught off guard. "It's true that I've gotten orders from above to do just those things, just not…" Kuzan petered off, eyeing the still present government agent, the very same who fetched the admiral earlier that day.

"Speak." The blonde elder prompted.

Kuzan, still looking uncharacteristically hesitant remained silent, eyes rapidly switching between the increasingly tense agent and increasingly agitated group of elders.

"Now." The blonde followed up, losing his patience despite his best efforts to keep it in check. Their foreknowledge of the admiral's character ended up doing little to prepare them for the meeting. Calm and serene group of people though they usually were, not a single one of them remained unbothered.

Kuzan gave a terse nod, raising one of his arms, he pointed a single finger into the air. "I repeat: I have truly gotten orders from above. Just not from any of you. We are…" Kuzan hesitated, "We are both aware that you are not at the top of the food chain, are you able to admit as much?"

The room -which had warmed up considerably during their heated conversation, seemed to freeze over in an instant, and for once, not through Kuzan's powers, but words.

Ragged breaths escaped several of the elders, their wide eyes and otherwise still frames clear visual tells of the shock received.

As for the agent, he could well and truly only be described as a mess made flesh. The earlier arrogant figure was nowhere to be seen, the only remains a shivering figure on the ground, which slowly -oh so slowly kept inching towards the doors, his quivering appendages doing a poor job in making it a subtle escape.

It wasn't to be a long struggle however, as not even a moment later, the blonde elders' right hand blurred fiercely, unleashing a dozen or so aerial finger bullets, all directly hitting vitals.

What a waste.

Such were the thoughts of all five the elders. Truth of the matter was that the recently deceased agent was one they actually favoured quite a lot. Born as a fifth prince with six brothers, and three sisters, he had an extremely adaptable disposition, with great enough skills and knowledge of social interaction to never step out of line with anyone of importance, yet still doing whatever job assigned competently.

He knew what information was acceptable to know, and what was not. His feeble attempt at leaving proved as much.

If allowed to grow, he would have no doubt occupied a reasonably powerful desk job within the government. A station which would have eclipsed the reach and power of the kingdom which he originated from- a place he abandoned originally, where his destiny would amount to being nothing more than a wallflower with no real power to his name.

Kuzan briefly glanced at the now rapidly cooling corpse behind him, before moving his gaze forward once more. "Well?" he further questioned.

The eldest looking elder, a relatively tall man with both white long hair and beard, shakily answered. "Y-Yes."

Kuzan nodded, looking satisfied.

"Then, need I say more?"

The elders all briefly met each other's eyes, if only to make a token show of discussing. Though none of them knew how the two of them had come into contact, and for what purpose, they all knew not to hamper, interfere or question their lord's motive and plans.

Earlier generations of elders had done just that.

All of which were dealt with.

Which made the next words a matter of course.

As though rehearsed, a chorus of solemn voices rang out.

"No, you need not."

Merchant Thorpe Morn had a strong feeling that this would be the last week of his life.

One way or another.

He had a few years ago entered his fifth decade of life, as evidence by the many grey hairs sprouting from his head. He had a below average height and a scruffy appearance, wearing clothes which would not be out of place on a homeless person. It would be easy to mistake him as such, but, clinging to his last vestiges of pride, he still viewed himself as a merchant, though mockery of one he may well currently be.

He and his remaining family of three were currently stationed in Yuba, one of the more newly built cities in the kingdom of Alabasta. He had moved here seeking business opportunities in the wake the of the warlord, Crocodile's defeat. It briefly functioned as a stronghold to the rebellion, but as it was, it had no real niche or established economic ecosystem built. Blinded by avarice, he sold off their then current establishment and took off. Even before the whole disaster that was Crocodile, the area of Yuba and its surroundings were well known to contain its fair share of bandits and other unsavoury people. However, the word of mouth in Alubarna, the capital city of Alabasta, was that in the aftermath of the tyrant's demise, they all but disappeared. He believed it.

He shouldn't have.

He knew that now.

Rather than disappear, they merely adapted, hiding behind loosely made laws, made by and for their kind of people. The city was a significant amount of land away from its ruling capital, so the means to which to get help through proper channels were few and far between. The life of the average man wasn't too bad, but if you had ambitions to make it either politically or economically, you either had to have a different reputable gang backing you, or you bent down to the first one which came knocking, with all that entailed. He didn't.

He should have.

He knew that now.

Most of his earlier contacts, which had faithfully traded wares with him for years now, had suddenly stopped responding. And only a month ago, his last remaining one, which was an out of country deal, suddenly told him the trade route which stopped by Alabasta no longer would, because of several gigantic glaziers slowly drifting about in its path.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He had many times settled for doing both.

Instead, what became his new forced way of getting anything was through the very same gang who had a chokehold on his living conditions. They would supply him both with money through loans, and wares sold directly by them.

With both ridiculous conditions and prices, of course.

He had been unable to pay enough money back recently.

It was in this predicament he had met an extremely tall and intimidating man, who he originally assumed was their executioner, but ended up willing to pay him a preposterous amount of Belly for the simple service of lodging and food. He wore unassuming dark clothes, together with a beanie and a pair of sunglasses. He was tan, so he might've been a local, but he had never heard of such a person before.

He had no choice but to accept the money, his situation being what it was.

Still, he had a lot of reservations regarding letting the man within a touching distance of either of his children.

Though, it seemed to be going okay so far…

"Uncle Ao, I learned subtraction today!" Sofia Morn, his four-year-old daughter.

She spoke proudly.

"Hoho. Well done." The extremely tall and sturdy man, who presented himself as Ao.

"Test me! Give me a problem!"

"You're sure? Alright, then…"

For a moment Ao reared his head back, as if in thought.

"What's ninety-seven minus fifty-six?"

"...Ah?"

Sofia's pupils momentarily trembled, and gained a glossy shine, as if they were preparing to cry. She hesitantly raised her fingers, attempting to count using them, but quickly found out that she didn't have ninety-seven of them.

"Th-that's…" she suddenly choked out.

The man called Ao quickly became flustered, or his equivalent anyhow. Thorpe had so far found him to be a laidback and calm individual. In fact, this was the most emotion he had seen from him so far.

"Ai. Ah. Ah. I mean, I misspoke. What I meant to say was: what's seven minus two?"

Sofia eyed the man warily, before once again slowly raising her small pair of hands, concentrating on lifting and closing her fingers.

After a few moments, she let them down, after which she let out a meek-sounding answer.

"…Five."

Ao at least seemed to have been around children enough to realize what was appropriate now, and was quick to praise.

"Woah. That's correct. You learn quick, don't you?"

"Ehehe."

Thorpe bristled when the man lifted his gigantic hand closer to his daughter, but all that came of it was a harmless head pat, which his daughter seemed to like well enough, if the happy giggles were anything to go by.

He hadn't been with them for a week yet, but potential trouble down the line ignored, the man had been a well-needed breath of fresh air. It had been so very long since he had seen his daughter smile and laugh like today. Ao had briefly mentioned that studying was the cheapest way to raise one's worth, something which his daughter had clung on to, having already sensed the poor state of house, and wanting to help out.

And so, without much fanfare, he started teaching her about a several things, first of all letters and numbers.

It wasn't a bad sight.

His son however…

He had been very cross with both him and his sister as of late. It had been bad in the years before, but the sudden dire situation the family found itself in seemed to be the tipping point for him. He hadn't seen him since last week.

Garm, his son, was thirteen this year, and he was seriously starting to worry about the direction his life was heading.

His wife died in labour while having Sofia. They ignored the medical warnings about possible complications that came with age, and paid the price for it. It pained him greatly at the time, and still did. But, as one should with life, he learned to live it. He didn't fault Sofia one bit either.

Garm did.

As a consequence, there was a rift between brother and sister which he as a parent wasn't able to mend. It wasn't as if he didn't see where his son was coming from, and so, while they were affluent, he tried to endlessly fulfil his sons every wish and desire in the hopes of filling in the void where a mother's love should have been, with his overflowing own.

It didn't work.

Yet he kept wanting to make it all better, which was why he became addicted to making money, for his family's happiness. It was what moved him to act on his thoughts to move their business to Yuba in the first place, without proper planning or research.

Such was his desire to see their family whole again. Or, at least, as whole as it could get.

Still, he didn't fault his son for it, as may should have. No, his guilt was too large, feeling responsible for the entirety of the situation.

He loved both his children fiercely, and though a welcome respite the man named Ao was, he would be the first to step up and punch the man should he ever become an enemy to them.

He really didn't hope it came to that though.

He'd rather not break his fingers in the attempt.

Once again, thank you all for your continued interest. Looking forward to seeing what you think. Until next time :)

104

Guthut

Aug 31, 2021

View discussion

Threadmarks Overwhelmingly Lazy Justice [One Piece SI] Ch 4

View content

Guthut

Guthut

Nov 30, 2021

#39

I don't like sand.

It's coarse.

And rough.

And irritating.

And it gets everywhere.

Then, why did I decide to station myself in a Yuba, a town located on the outer ridges of Alabasta, which was built on what was aptly named the Sandy Island?

It's simple, really.

Like really simple.

Stupidly simple.

The Kuzan from my vague and ever-decreasing memories of his life abhorred it too. I've no clue what's caused the sudden fracture of memories, but trying to remember more than a vague picture of specific things started to become impossible at some point. It felt like grasping at straws. Despite of this, his detest of sand was something firmly implanted, to the degree that he actually let the people around him know, which was a rarity.

So, if they started searching, they probably wouldn't come to look for me here, right?

It also helped that the state of the country was something predictable, where I had knowledge that the ruling family wouldn't make matters troublesome for some stupid reason. Regardless of this, I didn't want to take the chance and stay too close to the capital either, on the off chance that someone knew Kuzan well enough to connect my current undignified appearance to the legendary Admiral Aokiji.

I didn't have much else to go on in choosing a location, truth be told.

However, despite my uneasiness, other than dressing in somewhat concealing clothing, I didn't go out of my way to act a certain way to avoid attention. While I'm sure a lot of people would argue that the key to hiding was to avoid any and all notice, I personally found the plan naïve. Obviously suspicious and isolated behavior only required one mishap to be in jeopardy, whereas someone who acted as themselves in an environment they were meant to be in much easier went under the radar.

If you wanted to infiltrate a marine base, you can enlist as a soldier, or a scientist involved with their arms development. In the same vein, I was a vagabond without much of a goal or aim, traveling and settling down based on my own interests.

Nothing unordinary.

As for my current resting place, I happened to come across someone willing to house me without asking too many questions. As of right now, it should be about two weeks since I started living here. It also helped that I found the pair of father and daughter pleasant to be around. There should have been a boy too, apparently, but I hadn't seen him yet.

Speaking of said missing son…

"So, sir Ao, if you could help me look around the city for my son, I would be in your debt. Please!"

Such was the plea of a worried parent.

We were speaking in his office. Messy and out of shape it may have been, it was still the best place in the house to converse. The sky had turned dark a few hours ago, right around the time when Sofia went to sleep for the day.

Thorpe Morn had seen better days, rarely was this fact as apparent as it was today.

His skin was pale as snow, with his hair disheveled, falling off in noticeable quantities in patches surrounding his head. Ragged clothes clung to his body, a hunched and skittish figure revealing his insecurities and worries for the world to see.

"I-I don't think he wants to see me, or hear much from me at all. But I've heard some unsavory rumors surrounding him and his current companions and I just… can't sit still any longer," Thorpe grimly remarked.

I of course had an inkling to the situation Thorpe found himself in, but I could do no more than pay the man handsomely for the hospitality, 'lest I wish to lose the life of a vagabond, and be forced to flee. Major actions would leave ripples.

It was aggravating.

Thorpe's eyes momentarily left his feet and briefly met with my own. "I know- I know… that you are a guest and have no obligation to help. But, I'm at my wits end running around on my own… I haven't seen him in over two weeks."

Thorpe's brows furrowed as he forced out the next few words, "If you're not willing, I've saved up some money… in case of emergencies. It's not mu-"

"No, no. That's not necessary." I interrupted.

This. This I could help with.

Thorpe's face lit up, seemingly surprised.

"Garm, was it?" I murmured, "Do you have something that can help me identify him?"

Thorpe quickly scrambled to a nearby withering wooden desk, which was worn by time and misuse. From one of its four compartments, he pulled out a stack of a dozen papers.

Overcome with emotion, Thorpe explained its contents, "Yes! Garm had a passion drawing in his developing years, he was quite skilled at it too! He drew several portraits of our family, both as a whole and separately!" he then deflated, not unlike a balloon stung by a needle, "…never his sister though, he also stopped drawing my wife after… too."

I took the heap of papers, slowly sifting through the bunch.

They were similar, father and son. A younger, healthier version of the man I conversed with painted the pages in my hands, head full of rich black hair.

Seeing the melancholic air hanging around Thorpe's head, I gave a small nod, leaving him behind to search for his wayward son through the night.

One night, about a month after Juro started working at the tavern "Shady Retreat", a large crowd of spirited customers arrived mere moments just before it was supposed to close. It was a rare occurrence for such a big group to arrive this late into the evening. Working at the counter, he knew his numbers. Making a quick headcount, the number of newly arrived visitors entered the twenties.

Juro peered at the single other occupant behind the bar, Furuya, his boss and owner of the establishment, a middle-aged chubby man with dark brown hair.

Juro knew his boss to be an extremely stingy character, always trying to shortchange him with his paychecks.

Which was why his next words and actions caught him off guard as much as it did.

"The Vipers," Juruya sneered, "Don't charge anything."

Not given the order to kick the patrons out as he had expected, but instead be told to offer their services for free, it took him a good few second to actually process the words.

Juro had been born and raised in a civilian family, who all enjoyed stress free lives as subordinates instead of owners. As such, none who he knew personally had to deal with the infamous four ruling gangs which held a chokehold on the city of Yuba.

Their names, however, had been taught to him early on.

They weren't to be offended.

Still, even amongst them, there was one group who was widely regarded as viler than the rest.

Quick to anger, both cruel and sadistic.

That would be The Vipers.

Juro was sure this hadn't been mentioned while negotiating his recruitment. Not that he had asked that many questions, stable work was hard to come by, after all. He had thought it a relatively safe place to work too, there were remarkably little skirmishes.

Now he knew why.

Not many were foolhardy enough to step on the viper's tail.

As they filled in the now cramped little tavern, kicking and slapping the frail wooden furniture without thought in their humor, he tried to steel his heart for the coming hours.

In spite of this, his erratic footsteps toward the entourage easily exposed his nerves to anyone actually looking at him.

He did find some comfort though, pitiful though it may be.

It came from the fact that he definitely wasn't the one having the worst time in this room. One look at the haggard black-haired teen acting as the gang's pack-mule was enough to decide that.

His day must've been shit.

Today was shit.

Garm felt this thought came far too often for his liking recently.

Being pulled and kicked around each day every day was starting to grow old. After painstakingly proving himself to a higherup in The Vipers, he thought his life was going to change for the better.

Instead, he found no respect, no comrades and no opportunity to rise into any position of power within the organization. He had joined the most infamous of the groups, intent on reigning control over the shop his father governed.

Leaving wasn't an option. They knew his personal life, including his family for whom he…

Cared for.

Immensely.

Truth be told, he had been antagonistic the first year following his sister's birth. The following year he had actually mellowed out greatly, but his stupid childish pride didn't allow him to close the rift. At some point around her third birthday, it hurt to even look at her, but for all the wrong reasons.

His mother met an extremely untimely demise, this was something which he had struggled to accept years after its occurrence. Which was why when he found out that his sister was on track to become a carbon copy of her, all sorts of complicated emotions emerged inside him, which he didn't know how to deal with at all.

He felt he had dug himself too deep, and so, he decided to keep going down in an effort to come out on top on the other side.

Now though, situation being what it was, it was surprisingly easy to be honest with himself.

He had inwardly justified the trouble he put his father into for many years now, but now faced with a seemingly dead end, it was clear that he was just running away.

That was the reality.

A pathetic one, by anyone's standards.

Resigned, Garm huddled up in one of the corners of the bar, forcefully keeping both his eyes and ears open should any of the members call him to perform commands.

Then, while alert, heavy steps sounded from the path outside. The door creaked open, its rusty hinges almost breaking from the pressure. The figure, taking the first steps into the tavern made the floorboards groan. The room immediately turned quiet in response.

Garm felt his jaw go slack in surprise. The newcomer was the tallest person he'd ever seen, his head scraping the ceiling as he rose to his full form.

The figure was dressed in inconspicuous clothes, some baggy dark cloth-work with a beanie and sunglasses adorning his head, his afro leaking in lumps around the back.

The barkeep, a young man probably not many years Garm's senior, raised his hand and called to the figure. "Sir, anything I can help you with?"

The figure nonchalantly looked around, scanning the faces of the people within. Garm could have sworn his look lingered on himself a few seconds longer than the rest, but he was probably only imagining things. He had nothing to warrant any such interest.

"…Sure, hand me a drink. Any drink," the tall figure answered.

He sat down on one of the benches, one of the few things in the room able to seat him, and didn't make much noise until he thanked the young barkeep as he arrived with his beverage, which was a staple in the area, nothing uncommon.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the general noise in the room increased again, reaching its earlier levels, and then some.

Garm kept a close eye on the newcomer. While he didn't look out to do any trouble, it nevertheless remained his job to be on the lookout. Once again, in the few moments he looked away, he could have sworn he felt the mans gaze turn to him, analyzing him.

At this point, however, he couldn't be bothered to think too much about it. The setting allowed him to introspect, instead, something which he hadn't been able to lately because of how ruthlessly they were ordering him around.

This wasn't what he wanted. Not even close.

He idolized strength, power and control. The Vipers seemed to embody them, so he sought them out.

And this was where that led him.

Making sure a couple of run of the mill low lives were able to drink in peace.

Fuck.

He'd laugh if it happened to someone unrelated to him.

He wasn't that nice of a person.

Couldn't be, willingly going into this trade.

Still, it sucked being in the middle of it all.

Shaken from his reverie by some sudden noise, he moved his gaze to the sound.

Some of the rowdier members of the group were making movements toward the stranger. It was well into the night, so they'd had ample time to build up their courage with alcohol. Their steps were shaky, but determined.

They went as a group of five, exterior friendly, but their eyes betrayed their intentions.

Disregarding. Malicious. Ambitious.

Garm had seen this scene before, the aptly named act of "aggressively recruiting". Not everyone had to go through the hurdles he had to join. The difference was his was voluntary, whereas the people scouted rarely had a say in the matter. The recruiters got a bonus based on what kind of people they managed to drag in. Emboldened by the beverages, their caution must have run out. It wasn't often people refused either, their track record further waning any reservations about staying in their lane. The last one to decline ended up a dead man. Most of the time any confrontation was done without much of a hassle. His painfully sober gut however was telling him this was not going to be one of them.

Despite this, Garm didn't even consider looking away, a morbid curiosity taking root in his mind.

Though stumbling, their walk eventually came to a stop in front of the unknown man. "Stranger, are you affiliated with any gang?" one of the men asked.

The stranger didn't answer, despondently staring at the bottom of the now empty cup in front of him, seemingly contemplating something.

"Is that a no?" the man repeated impatiently.

Finally, the unknown man gave a reaction. Turning his broad and big body to face the men. "…I have some bothersome ties, but I'm not connected to a local gang, no." he finished, a small smile taking place on his lips, as if in on a joke only he would understand.

Regaining his momentum, the man asked, "Then, have you heard about The Vipers?"

The stranger seemed to consider something, "A thing or two."

"Then, do you know what this is?"

"More or less."

"Then…?" The recruiter leaned over the table, smile widening.

"No thanks."

The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, as if storm was gathering. Garm knew such a remark wouldn't fly. It would come to blows.

And that it did. The Vipers' reputationwas well earned. If nothing else this proved as much.

No sooner than a moment after the rejection was given, the recruiter threw the first punch.

Garm, hyper focused on the situation as he was, saw that the movement hadn't gone unnoticed by the tall stranger, yet he chose not to dodge.

It didn't make sense.

Until it did.

Contact was made, a snap was heard, a scream resounded.

Yet it did not come from the stranger.

The recruiters arm bent at an unnatural angle, with the fingers even worse off.

Garm only saw bits of the ensuing "fight", forced to hide under a table to escape the notice from the onslaught of drunk gang members rising up in anger against the stranger. He didn't want to provide them with another target to lash out their frustration against, as they had done several times in the past. Grunts and yells, broken arms and ribs. Mustering his courage, he stood up to get a better view and he saw-

Power.

This.

This was what he wanted.

A slap. Brush of a hand. Or just standing still.

It was an effortless stance, without care nor worry, but it all ended with downed enemies around him.

Seeing the unbothered figure of the stranger, the loyalty of the few remaining members evaporated. This wasn't a winning battle, even their drunk-addled mind was capable of reaching that conclusion. They ran in a hurry, stumbling and pushing each other down in an effort to get ahead.

Garm was entranced.

Every detail. He wanted to catch them all.

As he heard the last tiny scream slump down unconscious on the ground, he was taken back to reality, once again made aware he was within walking distance of a being capable to putting down what he once thought of as a considerable fighting force without any effort.

The man then caught sight of Garm. His eyes scrunched up for a few seconds, as if annoyed. "Boy," he called. "Come sit," he called once more.

With great caution and trepidation, he did just that.

After a brief detour to the half-wrecked bar, he sat down together with Garm, putting two different bottles down. The expensive kind, he numbly noted. He shed his beanie and sunglasses, too.

His mind was a hot mess, he couldn't imagine it getting any worse.

"I was sent here by your father."

It got worse.

"Wha-Ho-Wh?!"

"Drink first," the stranger interrupted.

"…That's not recommended for someone my age." Garm weakly protested, if only to cling to some semblance of normalcy.

He met his gaze. "Has that stopped you before?" He raised an eyebrow, if it was knowing or actually curious, I couldn't tell.

Garm looked away. "No."

"Then," he raised one of the bottles, prompting Garm to do the same. No glass was in sight, and as Garm was starting to look for one, he opened the bottle and started drinking from it directly.

"Huh." Garm scoffed at the absurdity of it all, and followed suit.

After a sizeable chug, they both dropped the bottles.

"I go by Ao." The man now named Ao introduced himself.

"Garm. But you probably already knew that." He said in turn.

He looked at me for a few seconds, considering, before nodding softly.

"So," the older male started.

"Why are you messing about with these morons?"

The question stumped him, with how direct it was.

"…Revenge." He muttered, the wind already out of his sails.

He'd heard a lot of people say that revenges leave someone incomplete, devoid of meaning after its completion.

He believed them to be wrong. The people spouting such lies were those who never managed to dig the blade deep enough in the neck of their enemies.

The gang in charge of his fathers' shop had wronged him, his family, and made an already difficult home to navigate several times worse.

The rest of the world could burn, it had done him no good.

But family was family. Everyone else… was everyone else.

As it apparently was someone his father sent after him, he expected to be lectured.

Ao did no such thing however, merely letting out a lazy "Ha," sound.

It seemed he didn't think it a bad idea? His now drunk mind was grasping at straws, when he came up with an idea.

"Can you train me?"

Perhaps he could gain a big benefactor.

"No."

He was shot down.

Emboldened by alcohol and frustrated he kept trying.

"Why?"

He tried to negotiate.

"I don't like you."

He was shot down, again.

He deflated.

"…Then, why are you here?" Garm asked.

"Because I admire your father, and your sister is pleasant enough to be around," Ao grunted. "And because of the trouble you're creating for both of them without anything to show for it."

That was fair… he supposed.

"Though… while I won't train you, I can share some rudimentary experiences in getting stronger. This bo- my body remembers it well enough," Ao petered off, "I get annoyed just looking at you being so useless."

Ouch.

His pride hurt, but he was long past refusing any kind of help.

Ao looked down at his body, seemingly reminiscing about a distant past, "Punish yourself, then indulge yourself, after which you intoxicate yourself. Make improving yourself an addiction. All at once, you need to be a masochist, narcissist, and an addict."

It was… vague. But he managed to make sense of it.

"As long as you stay at your house, I can… watch over and encourage you, I suppose." Ao painfully forced out, looking as unhappy as I had ever seen him after having finished his sentence.

It was a chance. An olive branch stretched out that had the potential to get his life on the right track again.

But…

"That's... my sister and father…"

Ao's face scrunched up.

"I really don't like you. Just come home, you're making it far more complicated than it has to be. Your father will welcome you back with open arms while apologizing as if he's the only one in the wrong." Ao continued, getting somewhat heated.

It looked uncharacteristic of the man, and Ao even seemed surprised by himself, but he had drunk quite a lot throughout this whole evening, and continued on.

"And your sister will too, treat her as a decent brother for four to six months and she will probably forget every bad thought surrounding you. She's at that age. Once she grows older, she's going to treat her family like poop floating down a river. Treasure it."

And now he was just ranting, Garm felt.

But what he said made sense.

Well, most of it.

Releasing a heavy breath, Ao calmed down. "For now, go back and live at your house. Focus on improving your body, and help out whenever possible."

"As for these clowns," Ao gestured to the bodies on the floor. "Do as I did tonight. Don't punch down, don't punch up…"

He met Garm's gaze.

"Punch back."

And so the slovenly and o-so ambiguous journey continues. Let me know what you think, it is greatly appreciated. Thanks.

Last edited: Nov 30, 2021

88

Guthut

Nov 30, 2021

View discussion

Threadmarks Overwhelmingly Lazy Justice [One Piece SI] Ch 5

View content

Guthut

Guthut

Jul 18, 2022

#50

The surrounding area was a flat, barren thing, depressing in its scarcity of life. Sand, rock, cacti, more sand. Kuzan lazily panned his gaze across it all, before finally looking back at the heap of flesh currently struggling for breath beside him.

Kuzan sighed, looking at the body not unlike one would at a pet one was considering putting down.

"Garm, every moment I spend with you is one I wish for you to cease disappointing me. Every moment, that wish disappoints me further."

The body- Garm, recoiled and shivered upon hearing the remark.

After reconciling with his family, Garm had excitedly pestered Kuzan to join him on a trip out to oversee his training. Though reluctant, Kuzan was a man of his words, and followed along without putting up too much of a fight.

They had been out for about an hour.

An apt amount to time for a harsh reality check.

If Kuzan were to compare his physical ability, he would liken it to the gang members he smacked around in the bar. Considerable put side to side with a normal human, but nothing close enough to be called an actual combatant in this insane world.

Though, looking at Garm's face, unbidden tears of frustration running down his cheeks, Kuzan had to admit the earlier comment was over the top. Though annoying, Kuzan felt he let it affect himself to an unreasonable degree, often of no fault of the teen. Was he projecting?

Hmm.

Garm muttered something, coughing while his cracked lips moved as if possessed, barely no more than a whisper. "W-water…"

Suddenly feeling a bit sorry, Kuzan wordlessly handed over a bottle of chilled water.

Garm watched the offering, hesitating, before timidly receiving it.

"Thanks," Garm said, taking a sip.

Kuzan's eyes squinted in annoyance, at himself, this time.

"…Don't mention it," Kuzan petered off.

Kuzan started to think he should approach this differently. Was he really such a petty person?

A speech from Kuzan's old teacher, Zephyr, quickly sprung to the forefront of his mind. It was something so firmly implanted and integral to the person named Kuzan that it withstood the strange fragmentation and decay which had plagued the majority of his other original memories the last few weeks.

"Garm," Kuzan exhaled. "There comes a time in a man's life, where he has to make a decision of whether he just aims to survive, merely getting by, or wants to thrive, and win.

"As is, you're doing just enough to make some meager gains, nothing substantial enough to deter the enemies eyeing you and your loved ones. You're lying to yourself if you think this is enough, and I would be lying to you if I let you get away with it.

"Crying in pain today, or crying in anguish in an uncertain tomorrow, surrounded by the fractured and destroyed visage of what you hold dear. Which do you prefer? Do you want to cry tomorrow?

"Your current state is the one best fit to break your limits, don't rest. Your body will not betray your efforts. Trust it, if not me."

Kuzan wasn't sure if his words registered, but he hoped his words would reignite some of the boy's spirit.

Sure enough, Garm rose on unsteady feet, rigged and stiff movements marred by painful gasps of air.

Garm faced Kuzan, and was surprised to see the man smiling at him, as if in approval.

It was the first he'd gotten from him.

…Garm liked seeing that smile.

Not the unconditional and selfless one which he so often received from his father, but affirmation and respect originating from an outsider with a negative disposition towards him, commending him for his efforts in spite of it.

He wanted to see it more often.

And so, roaring in defiance against his battered and bloody flesh, Garm fought on.

Sitting on one of the many wooden barrels scattered around the multiple docs of Water 7, Luffy's eyes scanned the black ocean ahead of him, which mirrored the clear night sky. The sloshing of waves against the shoreline the only sound present, Luffy felt himself untensing.

It was nice to get away once in a while.

Gave him space to think too, which he belatedly realized he had been doing a frightening amount of lately.

Luffy liked to imagine himself a jolly person. Sociable too! Strong, caring, fun and fair. These were the words Luffy had long liked to describe himself as.

His sense of self had been challenged recently though.

Starting from when his crew met… him, he could feel everything starting to fall apart.

Nami's eyes and voiced had long ago turned into a hollow and lifeless mockery of their former shine and passion. Luffy had accompanied her shopping some time ago, and nearly fell over in shock when she bought everything at set price, without even mentioning the possibility of haggling. A small thing for most people, but Luffy knew Nami well, and because of it felt the absurdity of the situation. At least Luffy liked to believe he did.

However, this proved only to be the start of the abnormalities within his crew.

Chopper did his work as a doctor perfectly, yet it was clear that he carried himself in a manner much more solemn. The childish naivety Luffy always associated with the young reindeer had died.

Sanji…

…

It wasn't good.

His vice-captain Zoro had been a rare sight the last few weeks. Ever since the.. incident, he had been constantly going into isolated training sessions. It was a rare occurrence to catch the swordsman in-between his seemingly never-ending workouts. Luffy had followed him the other day, both out of worry and curiosity.

Luffy liked to imagine he took his workouts pretty seriously, but the intensity and doggedness in which Zoro executed his exercises left even him in awe. As aforementioned, Luffy worried over it. But no matter the method in which his crewmates wanted to vent and deal with their feelings, Luffy would allow.

Truth be said, he was no better state himself, after all.

This had a lot to do with another c- previous, crew member. Or, two previous crew members he supposed. Though one hurt substantially more than the other.

Usopp.

Luffy felt a surge of anger and frustration swell up inside him even just thinking of the name.

After it was made evident that the Going Merry wouldn't be able to follow them along further on their journey, Luffy had made the heart wrenching decision of abandoning it. He likened the feeling of leaving it to losing a crew member, a feeling he was growing depressingly familiar with other the past few weeks.

And then, Usopp had the gall to tell him he didn't care for it.

Usopp challenged Luffy to a duel, then and there, for the right to possess the ship.

Even at the time, Luffy knew that trying to talk it out would be the best. Attempting to make Usopp understand the futility of using a ship destined to fall apart.

He didn't, however.

Luffy was no saint, he was well aware of this.

No, he was, in fact, a man striving to become the King of Pirates. Albeit he liked going around without causing other people too much trouble, he was hardly the perfect picture of patience.

And so, Luffy and Usopp fought, under the dispirited and exhausted gaze of this other crew members.

Let it be known that Luffy massively enjoyed his role in his crew. Both the official one as captain, and the informal one shaped by his own personal flair. Both came extremely natural to him, as if it was something he was born to excel unnaturally at. Elevating the mood at every opportunity, creating the harmonious and fun atmosphere he had imagined having in his crew for most of his life.

However, during their fight, Luffy felt something… darker, take helm.

Luffy won, of course.

But.

Truth be told, he hit much harder than necessary.

If questioned, Luffy would deny taking any enjoyment out of the ordeal. However, silently, to himself, he would admit that it allowed him to quench some of the bubbling and growing stress and sense of wrongness that had formed during the tail end of their journey.

Ever since… that, the beginning of the end, everything- every movement felt… wrong.

WRONG.

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.

It plagued him even now, sitting by his lonesome trying to gather his thoughts. Like an endless barrage of ants crawling beneath his skin. Luffy felt that he should be somewhere else, doing something else. It was what found him this peaceful part of the city in the first place; his fruitless search for the right thing to do- the right place to be.

He briefly ventured through a place which was called home by a rag-tag bunch of people who called themselves the Franky Family. Though he felt some sort of connection to the place, as if it was a place where he had a purpose at, he ended up leaving not long after arriving after finding the Franky Family disagreeable at the best of times.

This wasn't the state things were supposed to be. He knew that, he felt it down to his every bone.

Should he go back? It beat lounging around doing nothing, he supposed.

It was his only lead, if nothing else.

Luffy was broken out of his stupor, as he suddenly heard the shrill cry of Nami calling his name.

"-uffy! Luffy! Luffy! Luffy!"

It contained much more energy than he could recall Nami showing these past few weeks, which gladdened him. However, the desperate and hysterical tone which it carried quickly turned him apprehensive.

Regardless, his next course of action was clear.

Donning his trademark smile, he hauled himself to his feet. His face somewhat pale he stepped into Nami's view.

"Nami!" Luffy called out. "What's up?"

Upon seeing him, Nami's face ended up going through a multitude of emotions.

Relief, at finding him.

Exhaustion, at the time it took.

Hesitation, for what she was about to do.

Resolution, realizing the necessity.

Luffy, naturally, witnessed the emotional roller-coaster his navigator and dear friend underwent. His meager happiness at hearing her energetic calls dwindled further, while the pit in his stomach painfully grew.

"..Nami?" Luffy called out in confusion.

Wordlessly, Nami handed over a newspaper, which Luffy only just now realized was on her person.

Nonplussed, Luffy received it reflexively.

Though he was not academically inclined, Luffy nonetheless knew how to read.

This piece of paper made him wish he did not.

Re-reading the headline plastered upon the paper, Luffy shakily looked back towards Nami, finding her eyes. It was a silent request for confirmation, the content on the page too cruel for Luffy to dare believe.

Luffy wanted to hear her deny it, more than anything else in the world right now. He wanted her to start laughing and confirm it was naught but a mere joke. Albeit it would be a bad joke- terrible, even, he much preferred that to the possibility of the words written on paper being real.

Nami gave him no such solace, averting her eyes in lieu of an answer.

Luffy had no barrier to block the sudden sense of dread and unease developing.

His stomach seemed to drop even further, something he didn't think possible considering the turmoil it had underwent these last few weeks.

He was beginning to question if it would ever recover.

Slowly walking back from the training, day had long ago turned to dusk.

Garm was slumped over my shoulder, exhausted beyond understanding, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only indication he was alive.

Images flashed in my mind, of past, present and potential future accomplishment which Garm could achieve. The boy who left his house today was almost unrecognizable to the one returning home.

I had wanted to motivate him to improve, light his fire, if you will.

It was hard for me to accept the results, even now.

Garm's rapid increase in strength after his breakdown beggared belief.

Though not enough to be qualified as 'superhuman' in this world yet, he wasn't too far off it.

Something which just shouldn't have been possible.

It made me begin to seriously question the laws which ruled this world. As of now, they seemed a little extreme and oddly rewarding for specific actions.

I had a hunch I had nailed one of them down.

Though it was only a speculation, I had attributed and justified Garm's increase through connecting it with the act of thoroughly 'surpassing one's limits'. It was something thematically common in the series, and if it was actually a force of the world, some of the characters' progression suddenly started making a lot more sense.

Coby's sudden rise to power quickly came to mind.

It wouldn't surprise me if Garp repeatedly put Coby through several such gruelling experiences, taking advantage- knowingly or not, of the laws of the world to turn him from a wimpy nobody to a respectable marine officer.

Though, even if that should be the case, it didn't matter that much in the end.

I didn't mind Garm benefitting from our deal more than I had originally intended. I had started to respect the teen.

He was an alright lad. Not perfect, but who was?

Not me, that's for sure.

Ha.

I continued walking, quelling any useless thoughts.

Not before long, I found myself a few hundred meters away from the house.

I was about to continue closing the distance, but halted my step when I realized the picture painted by my form. The bloodied and almost motionless body of Garm slung over my shoulder…

Well, I suppose there was no getting around it.

I continued my stride over to the quaint but homely house.

Sometime along the way, the door of the house flung open with considerable force, upon which the visage of Thorpe, Garm's father, sprinted at a speed not commonly seen in a man his age.

He originally held on to a piece of paper, a newspaper, my mind absentmindedly supplied, but he lost his grip of it during his reckless charge.

"Garm! Garm! Ao!? What!?" Thorpe shouted while running, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

Stopping right in front of me Thorpe worriedly scanned the bloodied form of Garm.

I saw it as much as I felt it.

The winding of the arm, the tensing of the fists, and the surprising surge of killing intent spilling out in waves.

As if in preparation to punch me.

There was something to be said about a parents love here.

I hurriedly raised my arms and explained the circumstances, slowly laying Garm on the ground in the process.

Thorpe still looked uncertain, but calmed down upon finding his sons pulse flowing without issue.

"So, it was like that…" Thorpe muttered, tired, once more looking his age.

As if called on, Garm seemed to wake because of the commotion. A weak smile present on his face, Thorpe finally managed to calm down.

Most likely also woken by the noise, Sofia soon too joined the gathering.

It turned quite wholesome. It made a nice picture.

One whose frame I didn't fit in.

Silently removing myself from the scene, I made to move to the house, intent on sleeping.

On my way, I stumbled into the newspaper Thorpe dropped on his way out.

I picked it up without much thought.

I had made a habit of keeping up with the news since my arrival. Though it was monopolized by the news co and no doubt had a bunch of government aligned propaganda within, it nonetheless allowed be to keep up with much of the happenings of the world. Also, given my knowledge of the government's involvement, it allowed me to filter out the most obvious of the articles.

I usually read through the papers without much thought, nor emotion.

The headline of this edition made that impossible.

It made me pause. For a long time.

…

The more things change, the more they stay the same…

Or something like that?

…

This world was beyond a doubt, utterly bizarre and mad.

But I was still alive.

Somewhere along the line… I had begun doubting if this was a positive thing.

"FIRE FIST ACE APPREHENDED. PUBLIC EXECUTION TO BE HELD AT MARINE HEADQUARTERS; MARINEFORD."

Not sure how the reception will be on this one. Honestly. I had always imagined this fic to present an unravelling and shakeup of the plot, where small waves coalesce to form real impactful changes. Humour was always intended to be served alongside this grimmer new reality though. Not sure how well I managed that this chapter. Did anyone laugh? Ha.

Concerning the developments of the Straw Hats, it is something I view as realistic, if not an excessively grim take on how the consequences of chapter one would evolve. Without Robin's capture acting as a unifying force, coupled together with the heightened negative emotions and meta/story dictating world I'm trying to convey, I find it reasonable enough. It's open for debate, of course, but for the purpose of the story I have in mind it's feasible, and I'm personally happy with the chapter, sans the departing element of humour.

Regardless, thank you for reading. Rate and review.