AN: Not gonna lie—I lost this chapter. Found it. Lost it again. Then I got pulled into other stuff. But we here now.
Added: literally confused on where exactly my notes and drafts are for this one. I feel like that meme with dude connecting dots going crazy. 13-15 has been a headache. 3 times I've done it. Smh goodluck and have a good day.
(At this point either the story is laughing or I went crazy. 13 has been 13 the entire. 14-15. Are 14. If you showed up after confusion. Ignore my headache. Holiday season is never nice.)
"Gururua—! To the kid, for returning his humiliation to the Marines!"
Newgate raised his barrel first.
Dozens of crew mates mirrored him, laughter and cheers rolling across the ship as they chugged their drinks in unison.
A majority of the crew was injured—or still missing—after the fight, but the mood tonight was pride. They'd heard the story in detail after Rocks demanded it from the kid himself.
And after that?
Rocks dragged him into the celebration like a trophy.
Some of the best nights to sail under Rocks were like this—when he cracked open his personal supply and banned fighting for the evening. No duels. No grudges. No blood.
Just victory.
Rocks lounged by the helm with Shakky in his arms, drink in hand, eyes bright with that dangerous kind of joy.
"I wonder if the news picks up on this," he said.
Shakky only nodded.
Shiki was louder than everyone.
"You bastards should've seen the island!" he shouted, arms wide, drunk and thriving. "From a distance you could see half the city burning while lava covered the ground! The sea was starting to turn to ice too! The Marines invested a lot in this operation—Xixixihi!"
More laughter. More drinks. More pounding feet.
John glanced around, squinting into the crowd.
"Where's the kid at?"
He looked again, then shrugged and chugged another drink.
I wasn't on the deck.
I sat on a rooftop, away from the noise, letting the cool night breeze hit my face while I drank in silence.
My body didn't feel right.
Not injured—those wounds were already closing.
It was deeper than that.
The fight replayed in my head… and every time I tried to relax, discomfort flared again, like my blood remembered something I didn't want to.
Ki and Devil Fruit together.
I could do it.
I could force it.
But it felt like I was burning something that didn't grow back.
"You're thinking in the right direction."
A voice stepped into the night beside me.
He looked more human than before—long red hair trailing so far it touched the rooftop stones, face half-covered in shadow.
That shadow wasn't a good sign.
Not for him.
Not for me.
"In my theories," he continued, "it's possible to push Devil Fruits to their extreme through Haki alone. But if we supplement that with life force—pure life force—then there's no telling how the fruit will react."
He glanced down at the ship's glow, at the celebration below, then back to me.
"Technically, you should've lost that fight in every clash. You survived because of their inexperience."
My jaw tightened.
"If Kuzan had been more direct, he would've backed you into a wall," he said. "And if Hina had landed her shot…"
He let the thought hang.
"Take it as a lesson. Push to be stronger. Once things hit the fan here, it'll be every man for himself when it happens."
I stared out into the night.
Then I asked the question that kept crawling under my skin.
"Why did you save that little girl?"
He didn't react right away.
Then his voice softened—just a little.
"Her older sister died in my arms," he said. "So if sparing an insignificant amount of ki… and giving her a way to defend herself… kept her alive as atonement…"
He looked away.
"I would make the choice again."
Something slipped.
A memory that wasn't mine crawled into my head like a blade sliding between ribs.
Scientists. Needles. A child screaming. A small girl using ki—something they believed was inherent to me—and the moment the lab realized it.
How they tried to extract it.
How they failed.
How they needed me alive to confirm my words were true.
How they didn't have the crucial key to let anyone step into ki properly—because me and the girl were wrong. Unique. Unrepeatable.
So they chose another method.
They used subjects.
Kids.
Test after test after test.
And when the mistake happened, the only fate left for them was the lab.
Rage swelled in my chest.
A pressure built.
I felt my Haki spike—felt it swell outward without permission.
Then I noticed Rocks sitting nearby on the rooftop edge, drinking from his bottle like he didn't care that my killing intent was bleeding into the air.
His eyes met mine.
"Once we're back at the base," Rocks said, voice flat, "you're heading out with Shiki for a pick-up."
I pulled my Haki back in hard.
Nodded.
"Yes, Captain."
"Of course you noticed."
Kong face-palmed so hard it sounded like a gunshot.
Across from him, the light-man stood with that lazy expression that somehow made everything worse.
"So I'm right," Kizaru said, hand on his chin. "It becomes a problem if the rest find out."
Kong's headache got bigger.
Now he had no choice.
"Fine. You're going to Tsuru's squadron," Kong groaned. "I wanted you with Zephyr."
Kizaru's eyebrows lifted slightly, as if that sounded like work.
Kong leaned forward, voice dropping into something sharp.
"Don't mention this to anyone else. Unless you're ordered by me personally. This operation is under wraps. Any leakage…"
His eyes hardened.
"…and heads will go missing."
He rang a bell. A receptionist entered.
"Send word to Tsuru that Kizaru will be joining her squad," Kong ordered. "He's still an admiral candidate. Minimize his exposure to certain things."
The woman nodded and left.
Kong stared at the desk, exhausted.
The news had already leaked pieces of what should've stayed buried—three rising admiral candidates getting embarrassed, Devil Fruit details, the public humiliation.
The Elders had reprimanded him for it.
And now he had to tighten the leash.
"Akainu, you need to relax."
Hina watched him swing a weighted pile again and again, sweat rolling down his face, jaw clenched like he was chewing glass.
"Overworking yourself will only hurt you more."
Akainu didn't answer.
He just swung again.
The humiliation had sunk deeper than the bruises.
He'd grown arrogant—used to being untouchable because few people could withstand his heat. Used to being the main threat in every room.
Then Crow treated him like a side character.
Ignored him.
Focused Kuzan instead.
And worse—
Crow put the spear down before putting him out of the fight.
That memory burned hotter than magma.
Akainu kept swinging.
"He's still going?" Kizaru walked into the training ground, staring like he'd found a rare animal.
Akainu didn't even look at him.
Kizaru sighed.
"Scary."
"Haha! Get a look at this, Rayleigh!"
A man in a straw hat shoved a paper into his vice-captain's hands like it was the funniest thing he'd seen all week.
"The new kid on Rocks' crew fought the Marines' star cadets… and won!"
Rayleigh looked up from his cards slowly, eyes narrowing.
He didn't laugh.
"Garp, this is serious! We need you back in the East Blue!"
The Den Den Mushi shouted.
Garp stared at it for two seconds… then cut the call off mid-sentence and tossed the snail into the sea.
"I heard Roger is in nearby waters!" Garp shouted, turning back to his crew like a kid offered candy. "Let's go say hi, boys!"
Cheers erupted from the deck.
"So, Shiki… what do you think?" I asked.
We flew through the sky on a floating fortress, scenery shifting beneath us like a moving map. I held a drink in one hand, my spear strapped behind me.
"Should I give up the spear, or stick with it?"
Shiki didn't look away from the horizon.
"Using a weapon or not depends on how you want to fight," he said. "You're only using the spear because you found one while escaping. If it doesn't fit you, drop it."
I nodded slowly.
"Captain mainly uses a sword," I admitted. "I figured it'd be better to learn from him. If I don't like it, I can go back to the spear later."
Shiki took a drink.
"Knock yourself out," he said. "You're young enough to dabble. And Rocks isn't stupid—reckless, sure, but not stupid."
He glanced at me.
"Once you harness those flames properly, you'll be terrifying."
My fist clenched.
"Well," I said quietly, "help me get better. I'm still a long way from competing with monsters like Newgate. When I have to leave… I want to be able to defend myself."
Shiki nodded.
"Sure. Just don't die to Rocks first."
He walked off.
"Add flame training to your routine," he called back. "You'll see results fast."
That left me alone.
I focused on my flames.
Martial arts and Haki were improving steadily.
But my Devil Fruit control was borderline basic.
Mythical Zoans weren't supposed to be like this.
They could mimic other fruit categories—powers resembling Logias, while retaining a Zoan body.
So why give me this fruit?
And why couldn't I remember eating it?
I raised my hand.
A fireball formed above my palm—small, unstable, flickering.
I tried to hold it.
It collapsed.
I tried again, pushing harder.
It swelled—then exploded in my face.
Laughter came from Shiki's crew watching below.
I ignored them and tried again with less energy.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
The longest I'd managed was half a minute.
I rubbed my forehead in frustration.
Then a quiet thought slipped through—my other side.
It's better he learns some things on his own.
I didn't sense him appear.
He watched from a rooftop as I tried again and again.
I gave up on duration and tested scale instead—forcing the flames to balloon until they filled the courtyard sky like a newborn sun.
Then I cut the supply.
The flames died instantly.
The voice sighed.
If he can handle the insanity of the dark origins… then I can finally pass on.
There was defeat in it.
As if he'd cost himself something by choosing to be normal this life.
You're good to post this and move on.
Fixing numbering later is editor work, not writing work—don't let it slow you down.