In the blink of an eye, six quiet years had passed.
A small, empty boat drifted ten nautical miles off the coast near the 521st Naval Base. The only living thing on board was a golden canary, perched at the bow in silence, staring off into the horizon.
Then, the canary opened its beak wide—and from within, a young man in a white suit stepped out.
It was Yahn.
Serene.
That was how Yahn had spent the most precious six years of his life: in utter serenity. Other than his appearance growing sharper and his presence more refined, little had truly changed about him. He still looked just like that youthful eighteen-year-old boy of years past.
"It seems about time… troublesome pirates."
Yahn yawned, rubbing his half-sleepy eyes as he muttered to himself.
Not long after, a filthy, menacing pirate ship came into view, sailing slowly toward the 521st Base.
Over these six years, with Yahn presiding over the seas, the waters under the 521st's watch had known unprecedented peace. At the same time, the Revolutionary Army had quietly used the base as its center, spreading its flames across the entire North Blue. This, in turn, made the islands near the base thrive and prosper like never before.
But just as starving hyenas are drawn to the scent of meat, greedy pirates always flocked toward that prosperity, hoping to tear off a piece for themselves.
So far, however, not a single pirate crew had ever managed to set foot on the 521st's island.
After all, even a peaceful life needed the occasional bit of "entertainment."
For Yahn, fishing at sea was one such pastime.
And his Observation Haki—so deeply tied to one's spirit and soul—had grown so vast that even Yahn himself no longer knew where its limits lay. Covering the entire sea before him posed no problem at all.
"I wonder whose range is wider… mine, or the future admiral Fujitora's?"
"After all, he can drag meteors down from the sky with Observation Haki alone. Compared to that, maybe I'm the lesser monster."
Yahn smacked his lips, unease rising in his chest. This sea seemed to breed monsters without end. Looking back, his so-called "victory" years ago against the heavily wounded Golden Lion Shiki felt less and less like an achievement worth boasting about.
His thoughts meandered idly as he watched the pirates' ship crawl forward under the wind's push. Eventually, impatience began to creep in.
"So slow…"
As the distance closed, the pirate flag finally came into clear view.
Yahn accepted a wanted list that little gold spat out, flipping through the names until he found the match.
"The 'One-Legged Pirates'… what a ridiculous name. But yes, this crew is infamous for its captain's sick obsession with gold. They plunder without restraint, hunting down gold wherever it lies."
Yahn snapped the list shut with a quiet murmur.
"Well then… no point in talking with scum like this. Better to handle it the assassin's way: a single, clean strike."
He drew the Zanpakutō at his waist and chanted softly:
"Bankai… Jakuhō Raikōben!"
In an instant, golden light spiraled around him. The blade dissolved, reshaping itself around Yahn's arm into something massive—a missile-like golden whip, larger than the boat beneath his feet, like the stinger of some colossal wasp.
The moment Yhan willed it forward, spiritual pressure surged. The weapon fired with a thunderous roar, the recoil blasting his small boat backward hundreds of meters as the golden missile screamed toward the pirate ship.
"BOOOOM!"
A deafening explosion tore across the sea. A mushroom-shaped shockwave blossomed where the One-Legged Pirates had been, the blast rippling the waves for miles around.
---
At the port of the 521st Naval Base, townsfolk glanced up at the echoing thunder, muttering among themselves.
"Commander Yanh's out blowing up fish again."
"Yeah. He used to just fish quietly when he went to sea. But this past year, he seems to prefer blasting them instead."
"Could it be… Commander Yahn's gotten more short-tempered?"
"That can't be right. He's always been kind and easygoing. Doesn't seem like a hothead at all."
"Then maybe… he's just holding it in too long? I mean, he has been single all this time…"
"Now that you mention it, that sounds likely. Perhaps my daughter should make more visits to the base, to ease his loneliness."
"Forget it. Your girl's only eighteen—still no charm. Better let me go instead."
"???"
Everyone turned to stare at the burly, bearded man who'd spoken.
"…What? I meant my sister, obviously."
---
Yahn, of course, knew nothing of the gossip in town. He simply gazed at the empty stretch of sea where the pirates had been, before letting his Bankai fade with a faint trace of dissatisfaction.
Ever since his birthday, when he'd awakened this Bankai—Jakuhō Raikōben—he had fallen in love with it completely.
It lacked the gaudy flamboyance of Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.
It wasn't as clumsy or overbearing as Kokujō Tengen Myō'ō.
No, Raikōben was different. It was pure assassin's art: the joy of a one-hit kill, devastating recoil, and the destructive force of a living missile.
"Yes… art is the one-hit kill. Art is the explosion. Art… is yield!"
The only regret was that, so close to the 521st Base, he had to restrain its power every time, lest he risk causing a tsunami. Each shot was always held back, dulled, never allowed to reach its full, intoxicating might.
Suppressing that urge, Yahn sighed softly. Sweeping the surrounding seas once more with Observation Haki and confirming no other suspicious vessels lurked nearby, he decided to head home.
"Seems today's catch ends here."
He muttered the words, then nodded toward the canary.
The little bird obediently clamped the rope at the bow in its beak, wings beating furiously as it dragged the small boat back toward the port.
"Faster, Goldie. You'll get an extra snack pack tonight."
"Chirp-chirp-chirp!"
The bird redoubled its effort, towing the boat like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.
By the time they reached the harbor, Yahn casually picked up an oar, pretending to row a few strokes, before docking the boat with practiced ease.
---
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