"Radiant Regenesis" is an enthralling tale of Kizaru, an individual reborn in a fantastical world teeming with power and conflict.
Radiant Regenesis
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Awakening Light
The cafeteria lights of Derry Community College were buzzing like wasps, so this is why Jake Epping had taken the job. He thought that if he worked in the basement, no one would see him. No one would know that the scholarship kid was working as a janitor.
Jake's pride was alive. It coiled around his insides and hissed at the thought of someone from school seeing him with his greased-stained apron on. When he got off work, he'd sneak through the parking lot and take a roundabout way back to his dorm. The fall air smelled like dead leaves and Jake's fear of getting caught.
Everything changed on a night like that. Jake had just rounded the corner of the science building when a gunshot cracked through the air. Before he could think, before it made sense, there was pain and then there was pavement.
Time stretched out slowly as molasses as Jake bled out onto the asphalt. Overhead, constellations spun uncaringly. In those last moments before shock gave over to cold death, he thought about who he loved—and who he didn't love enough. He'd never know what it felt like to hold a woman's hand or see his name printed below an associates'. Or maybe God just has a shitty sense of humor.
He expected gates or flames but got endless blank white instead; faith crumbled wet cardboard in shaking hands. If shapeless ghosts are meant to drift through blank canvases for eternity—well, fuck it all then.
Just as despair started licking its lips behind him, a notification pinged in Jake's ghostly mind: "The Store System," it said—a sentence straight out of those weird web novels he used to read during lecture halls & in between meals at dining halls & during life—but every bit of him tingled at possibility: if this is real—if he can really restart…
So with a flick of thought, he shed his old skin. He became Kizaru, that laid-back admiral from the manga he loved. No more hiding. No more cowering. In this life, he'd be the one in control.
The white space wavered and solidified in front of Jake's eyes. So instead of being afraid, he smiled a little. Death was only the beginning.
In Mariner's Haven, a loud port town where everything smelled like salt and sounded like boats banging into each other 24/7, there lived a boy named Borsalino Boromante. The locals knew him as an easygoing kid with an oversized yellow striped hat that bobbed through the streets.
He'd gotten his reputation for being laid-back at such a young age; people would often laugh to see such a carefree child wandering through streets where even rats seemed to move with purpose.
"Hey there, Borsalino!" called Tanaka, an elderly man who was having trouble with a box of fish. "Can you help me?"
The boy's smile grew bigger as he swaggered toward him. "Oh, that looks heavy, Tanaka-san," he drawled with a hint of laughter in his voice. He took one end of the crate without hesitation and his skinny arms trembled under it.
Mariner's Haven was a melting pot indeed; Marines stood shoulder to shoulder with merchants while pirates skulked in every dark corner. Young Borsalino watched it all with wide eyes, fascinated by the kaleidoscope of sailors that swept through the port like waves.
"Do you see that ship over there, kid?" a gruff voice asked. Borsalino turned to see Captain Garp, a Marine known for his strength and unpredictability. "That's a pirate vessel. Someday, you might have to face scum like that."
Borsalino cocked his head, the ever-present smile on his face never wavering. "But, Captain-san, don't they just want adventure like everyone else?"
As the sun began to set behind him and cast long shadows across the docks, Borsalino found himself wandering towards the seedier part of town. The air here was thick with smoke and secrets, and even the boy's carefree attitude couldn't fully release it.
"Well well well," slithered a voice from a dark alleyway. A man with a scar across his face stepped out into view, malice gleaming in his eyes. "If it ain't Boromante's boy?"
Borsalino didn't drop his smile, but something in his eyes went hard. "Oh? You know my father?" he asked lightly.
The man laughed; it was like gravel in a meat grinder. "Know him? Kid, everybody knows marine captain Boromante! And everybody knows about his biggest embarrassment-a son who can't tie his own shoelaces without taking a nap first!"
This had been among one of many things the college student had soon learned after becoming Kizaru. Kizaru was mentally tired all the time. It was simply a genetic condition of his body.
For an instant silence hung like a guillotine blade. Then something extraordinary happened. Borsalino started to glow. At first faintly. But then brighter. And brighter.
"Oi oi," he said flatly."That's not very nice is it?"
The man stared at him for only a moment then began scrambling away. "What... what are you!?"
Borsalino's smile grew, his teeth shimmering in the odd light coming off of him. "Me? Just a kid who likes to help out, ya know?"
And with that the man was gone. Fled into the night. Leaving young Borsalino there. A beacon of light against the encroaching dark.
At that moment it became clear. The laid-back boy from Mariner's Haven was on a path to something much greater than anyone could have ever guessed.
Flashback
Not long after sunrise little Borsalino Boromante found himself perched atop a stack of weathered crates near the docks. His eyes—hidden behind sunglasses several sizes too large for his face—lazily skimmed over the hustle and bustle of port. His trademark yellow-striped hat cast shadow across his face making him appear even more nonchalant.
"Oi, Borsalino!" called a gruff voice. "What're you doing up there, son?"
The boy's head lolled to the side; grin split wider when he saw who it was. Captain Boromante, his father.
"Just watching the world go by pop," he drawled.
Suddenly a commotion erupted at the far end of docks. A ship had dropped anchor. Its black flag gave away what kind it was. Rough looking men began disembarking. Eyes darting furtively.
"Pirates," Captain Boromante said, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword. He turned to his son with a grave expression. "Borsalino, do you know why we Marines exist?"
The boy cocked his head, his smile never faltering. "To catch the bad guys, right Pop?"
His father laughed dryly. "It's not that simple, son. We exist to maintain order, to protect the innocent. But sometimes... sometimes the difference between what is 'right' and what is 'wrong' isn't always as clear as we'd like it to be."
As if on cue, a squad of Marines appeared around them-–-surrounding the pirate crew. Borsalino watched lazily as his father shouted commands and pirates were put into handcuffs with little resistance offered by them.
"You know, Borsalino," Captain Boromante said softly, "being a Marine isn't just about physical strength. It's about justice; it's about making the tough calls."
The child nodded, never tearing his eyes from the sight before him. "Ah, I see," he whispered vaguely. Whether or not he truly did understand remained to be seen.
As night fell, the docks grew still save for the gentle lapping of waves against wood. Driven by a curiosity that belied his laid-back demeanor, Borsalino found himself on board the impounded pirate ship.
The vessel groaned ominously as he descended below deck with bare feet padding silently across worn planks. In the captain's quarters—lit only by a lone flickering candle—something caught his eye.
There sat on a velvet cushion a fruit unlike any other he had ever seen. Its surface was yellow and white and swirled together in patterns almost hypnotic in their beauty.
"Ah!" Borsalino breathed out as his hand reached for it without thinking. "What're you?"
In response, the fruit seemed to glow from within; light pulsed quietly beneath its skin. Without another thought, Borsalino raised it to his lips and took a bite.
Its flavor was indescribable: sweet honey mixed with sour lemon mixed with shit. As he swallowed warmth spread throughout his body starting at his core and radiating outward.
All of a sudden, Borsalino's body began emitting light—first dimly then increasingly brighter hues—until finally nothing remained but pure radiant energy where once stood him.
"Well now," he chuckled curiously behind an always-present grin (one that had changed slightly). "Wouldn't you look at this?"
Finally the manchild had found the Devil Fruit which he had been looking for. He wondered if he should have gone to The Store System and bought a way to find this Devil Fruit but it seemed he was fine.
End Flashback
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the secluded cove where young Borsalino Boromante stood. His oversized sunglasses reflected the dying light as he raised his hands, concentrating.
"Ah, let's see what you got today, huh?" he drawled lazily with an uncharacteristic determination in his voice.
Then light burst forth from his fingertips, twirling and dancing through the air before him. Rocks around him glowed as if absorbing it.
From behind a cluster of weathered boulders, Solara watched with wide eyes full of fascination. Her heart raced at the sight of her childhood friend manipulating light like putty between fingers.
"Borsalino," she whispered so as not to break his concentration. "You really have become something else."
As the display grew more intense, Borsalino's grin flickered for a moment. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he struggled to rein in overflowing power.
"Easy now," he muttered to himself. "Don't wanna accidentally turn an island into a lighthouse or somethin', y'know?"
Then an errant beam shot out from his hand and seared through a tree nearby. The smell of burnt wood wafted through the air.
"Oh," Borsalino drawled with a returning grin despite the near-miss incident. "That ain't good."
Unable to contain her awe any longer, Solara stepped out from behind her hiding place. "Borsalino! That was amazing!"
The boy turned toward her voice breaking concentration; light faded leaving only natural glow emitted by setting sun.
"Hey Solara!" he said, a bit of surprise—and something else? regret?—in his voice. "You shouldn't be here, you know? It's not safe."
Solara's face fell, her excitement snuffed out like a candle in the wind. "We used to play together all the time," she said, barely above a whisper. "And now you're always training. Don't you miss it?"
Borsalino's grin wavered; for a moment sadness flitted across his face. "Things are different now, Solara-chan," he said seriously, uncharacteristically serious. "I've got a responsibility, ne? Can't just go playing around anymore."
As they made their way back toward town the air was thick with quiet conversations and sidelong glances; news of Borsalino's powers had spread through Mariner's Haven like wildfire (turning the once-well known boy into the talk of the town).
"There he is," muttered a gruff fisherman as they passed. "The light boy."
"I heard he can move faster than the eye can see," added another voice; awe and fear mixed in equal measure coloring those words.
Borsalino seemed oblivious to this attention, his lazy gait unchanged—but Solara could see the tension in his shoulders, could see how his eyes darted about beneath those oversized sunglasses.
At the edge of town they encountered Captain Boromante: there were worry lines etched into that face which hadn't been there one week prior.
"Borsalino," called Captain Boromante with relief and exasperation both in his voice: "Where have you been? We need to continue your training!"
The boy grinned wider. "Ooh Pop!" he drawled lazily: "I was just showing Solara-chan my new tricks ya know?"
Captain Boromante's face softened as he looked at Solara, then hardened again as he turned back to his son. "You know the dangers, Borsalino. Your powers aren't a toy—they're a responsibility. And I've got to balance my duties as a Marine Captain with helping you control this... gift."
And so it was that night fell over Mariner's Haven—the same night which found young Borsalino lying on his bed staring at the ceiling; light filled from within.
"Oh," he murmured, barely audible: "what a bother ne?"
But even as he said it (even) there played across his lips a small smile—for Borsalino Boromante, a laid-back boy who had seemingly stumbled upon unusual power(s), life had grown infinitely more complicated… and (infinitely) more interesting too.
And so (Then) he drifted off to sleep with consciousness receding like light itself, wondering what could possibly come next.
As dawn's first pale touch snaked in through windowpanes and curtain-crack alike, Borsalino Boromante stirred beneath sheets; those ever-present sunglasses fluttered open behind which eyes of green-gold glinted uneasily.
A moment later a strange ethereal interface flickered into life before him: invisible to all but himself.
It was time.
Behind it lay The Store System; buying his first Power for Units required by said-store's ruleset; every day is random drop of units ranging from insane numbers to nothing & it's been 8 years since becoming Kizaru.
"Store System" was faintly glowing in the air. A list of options appeared below the label. Borsalino's fingers hovered over them, still emitting a dim light.
One option stood out: "Lex Luthor [Prime-Earth] Template - Experience and Abilities."
"Interesting, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, grinning even wider than before. He chose it lazily, waving his hand but being careful not to accidentally select the "memories" choice; he didn't want to become someone else.
A wave of intellect rushed into his brain—-intricate scientific theories tangled up with strategic thinking patterns around an otherwise laid-back attitude. Blinking rapidly to try and adjust to this new knowledge-overload, Borsalino hardly had time to think about how strange it all felt.
The sun was high in the sky when Borsalino reached the training grounds. His father and Solara were already waiting for him. Captain Boromante's face was etched with worry, while Solara's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"You're late, son," Captain Boromante growled, hand resting on his sword's hilt. "We've got work to do."
Borsalino didn't miss a beat. "Eh, sorry Pop. Got a little… sidetracked this morning, ya know?"
Solara perched on a nearby rock and leaned forward eagerly. "Show us what you can do, Borsalino!" she called out, excitement lacing her voice-—along with something else; maybe a touch of longing for the carefree days they had once shared.
Borsalino raised his hands and let light begin to dance between his fingers. But this time was different. The wild unpredictability of before was gone, replaced by a controlled almost surgical precision.
"Eh, let's try somethin' new, ne?" he drawled through an undertone of newfound confidence.
Suddenly beams of light shot out from his fingertips leaving trails that wove intricate patterns in the air around them. The light bent and refracted off itself creating fully 3D structures that shimmered and pulsed with energy.
Captain Boromante's jaw dropped. "Borsalino," he breathed out—-"how... how are you doing this?"
The boy's grin widened even more. "Just a lil' trick I picked up pop—nothin' ta worry about ya know?"
As Borsalino continued to put on display after display Solara watched in awe but also growing unease. He was still her friend right? The boy before her still wore that lazy grin and drawled his words like always but there was something else now: a sharpness in his eyes that had never been there before.
"Borsalino," she called out over the hum of light energy, barely audible-—"are you still... you?"
The boy paused and the light around them dimmed slightly. For a moment something like confusion or concern flickered across his face, but then the grin was back as bright as ever.
"Eh, Solara-chan," he drawled—"of course it's still me. Just... a lil' smarter now ya know?"
As the training session wound down Captain Boromante clasped a hand on Borsalino's shoulder; pride and worry fighting for dominance in his eyes. "You've made incredible progress, Borsalino," he said—"but remember: with great power comes-"
"Great responsibility," Borsalino finished with an uncharacteristic edge of sarcasm. "Eh I know pop, I know."
As they made their way back to town—Solara hanging back just slightly—Borsalino's mind raced with new possibilities. The Store System had opened up an entirely new world for him but at what cost?
Young Borsalino Boromante's eyes glowed with unnerving light as newfound knowledge and power swirled within him like a storm barely contained.
The laid-back boy from the docks was changing; evolving into something… more. And so night fell, leaving hanging in the air, unspoken but palpable: What would he become?
In the days following young Borsalino Boromante's room became a shrine to his newfound genius. Papers covered every surface; filled with intricate diagrams and complex calculations. The soft glow of his light powers illuminated space casting eerie shadows as he worked tirelessly through the night
"Ah, yes! This has a fair chance of success!" He said with a sharp-edged smile. His fingers left trails of light as they moved across a map of the Grand Line. "If we put our troops here and here… the pirates'll never know what hit 'em."
Captain Boromante positioned himself at the entrance, his face showing signs of worry as he observed his son. "Borsalino," he whispered tenderly. "It's late. You should go to sleep."
The kid flipped around; the oversized sunglasses on his head reflected the light from the lamp post. "Sleep, Pop? Oh, no time for that. Not now that we're this close to fixing the pirate problem for good."
His father furrowed his eyebrows. "Son, it's not that simple. The world isn't black and white. Not all pirates are–"
"Bad?" Borsalino cut him off with an uncharacteristically sharp tone to his voice. "Maybe not, Pop. But they're still a threat to justice, ne? And justice… Well, justice is absolute."
As dawn came over Mariner's Haven, Solara headed towards Borsalino's house with hope in her chest-—it had been days since she'd seen her friend anywhere but at some grueling training.
She found him in his room among plans and calculations like always––celestial bodies were drawn out across tables while mathematical equations were scribbled across others. "Borsalino?" she called tentatively.
He looked up from underneath a perpetually present smile upon noticing her figure in the doorway; it softened slightly at her sight. "Oh, Solara-chan…" he drawled lazily. "What'cha doing here so early?"
Her gaze shifted rapidly throughout the room-–feverish work everywhere she looked. "I... I wanted to see if we could play today," she began hesitantly. "Like we used to?"
For a moment there was something else behind Borsalino's eyes––a glimpse into what this all really meant: freedom. But then he glanced back down at everything before him again; conflicted. "Ya know what, Solara-chan? That sounds like a great idea. These plans… they'll still be here later, ne?"
Joy lit up Solara's face. "Really? You mean it?"
"Of course," he said with a touch more of his old laid-back charm than before. "Can't be all work and no play, ya know? That's no way to live."
And so they ran through the streets of Mariner's Haven, playing tag and hide-and-seek, until Borsalino felt lighter than air. His intelligence hummed just beneath his skin––right there where anyone who looked close enough could see it––but for now it was just him and Solara being kids again.
"You can't catch me!" she called out into the wind as they raced down another street.
"Ohh, is that a challenge?" His grin was wider than it had been in days. He could've easily caught her with his light speed; but what fun would that have been?
As the sun began setting and casting long shadows across town, Borsalino and Solara collapsed on the grassy hillside; breathless from their play.
"I've missed this," she said softly; turning her head to look at him.
Borsalino's eyes softened. "Me too, Solara-chan. Me too."
But even while he was laying there, simply enjoying friendship in its purest form—-part of Borsalino's mind never stopped working. Store System had given him something... a gift or maybe a curse that he couldn't turn off completely. Planning. Strategizing.
Night fell over Mariner's Haven as young Borsalino found himself between two worlds: The carefree manchild he had always been versus the brilliant strategist he was quickly becoming. Laughter echoed in his ears from that day while plans and calculations called to him within his room like sirens.
Borsalino was in his room, which was dark but for the dim light that shone from his hands. He looked into a mirror and saw himself smiling like always, but there was something different about those eyes behind the glasses this time: they sparkled with purpose.
"Man, this is so annoying," he muttered, then grinned wider. "But maybe... just maybe it could be... fun?"
Author's Notes: If you guys really like this story and want to see more of this quickly, I will be releasing multiple chapters everyday on my p- at - re- on. pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
Remove the spaces obviously and dashes. If not go to the site and type in Bosillic. Until we meet again.
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Jake's pride was alive. It coiled around his insides and hissed at the thought of someone from school seeing him with his greased-stained apron on. When he got off work, he'd sneak through the parking lot and take a roundabout way back to his dorm. The fall air smelled like dead leaves and Jake's fear of getting caught.
Everything changed on a night like that. Jake had just rounded the corner of the science building when a gunshot cracked through the air. Before he could think, before it made sense, there was pain and then there was pavement.
Time stretched out slowly as molasses as Jake bled out onto the asphalt. Overhead, constellations spun uncaringly. In those last moments before shock gave over to cold death, he thought about who he loved—and who he didn't love enough. He'd never know what it felt like to hold a woman's hand or see his name printed below an associates'. Or maybe God just has a shitty sense of humor.
He expected gates or flames but got endless blank white instead; faith crumbled wet cardboard in shaking hands. If shapeless ghosts are meant to drift through blank canvases for eternity—well, fuck it all then.
Just as despair started licking its lips behind him, a notification pinged in Jake's ghostly mind: "The Store System," it said—a sentence straight out of those weird web novels he used to read during lecture halls & in between meals at dining halls & during life—but every bit of him tingled at possibility: if this is real—if he can really restart…
So with a flick of thought, he shed his old skin. He became Kizaru, that laid-back admiral from the manga he loved. No more hiding. No more cowering. In this life, he'd be the one in control.
The white space wavered and solidified in front of Jake's eyes. So instead of being afraid, he smiled a little. Death was only the beginning.
In Mariner's Haven, a loud port town where everything smelled like salt and sounded like boats banging into each other 24/7, there lived a boy named Borsalino Boromante. The locals knew him as an easygoing kid with an oversized yellow striped hat that bobbed through the streets.
He'd gotten his reputation for being laid-back at such a young age; people would often laugh to see such a carefree child wandering through streets where even rats seemed to move with purpose.
"Hey there, Borsalino!" called Tanaka, an elderly man who was having trouble with a box of fish. "Can you help me?"
The boy's smile grew bigger as he swaggered toward him. "Oh, that looks heavy, Tanaka-san," he drawled with a hint of laughter in his voice. He took one end of the crate without hesitation and his skinny arms trembled under it.
Mariner's Haven was a melting pot indeed; Marines stood shoulder to shoulder with merchants while pirates skulked in every dark corner. Young Borsalino watched it all with wide eyes, fascinated by the kaleidoscope of sailors that swept through the port like waves.
"Do you see that ship over there, kid?" a gruff voice asked. Borsalino turned to see Captain Garp, a Marine known for his strength and unpredictability. "That's a pirate vessel. Someday, you might have to face scum like that."
Borsalino cocked his head, the ever-present smile on his face never wavering. "But, Captain-san, don't they just want adventure like everyone else?"
As the sun began to set behind him and cast long shadows across the docks, Borsalino found himself wandering towards the seedier part of town. The air here was thick with smoke and secrets, and even the boy's carefree attitude couldn't fully release it.
"Well well well," slithered a voice from a dark alleyway. A man with a scar across his face stepped out into view, malice gleaming in his eyes. "If it ain't Boromante's boy?"
Borsalino didn't drop his smile, but something in his eyes went hard. "Oh? You know my father?" he asked lightly.
The man laughed; it was like gravel in a meat grinder. "Know him? Kid, everybody knows marine captain Boromante! And everybody knows about his biggest embarrassment-a son who can't tie his own shoelaces without taking a nap first!"
This had been among one of many things the college student had soon learned after becoming Kizaru. Kizaru was mentally tired all the time. It was simply a genetic condition of his body.
For an instant silence hung like a guillotine blade. Then something extraordinary happened. Borsalino started to glow. At first faintly. But then brighter. And brighter.
"Oi oi," he said flatly."That's not very nice is it?"
The man stared at him for only a moment then began scrambling away. "What... what are you!?"
Borsalino's smile grew, his teeth shimmering in the odd light coming off of him. "Me? Just a kid who likes to help out, ya know?"
And with that the man was gone. Fled into the night. Leaving young Borsalino there. A beacon of light against the encroaching dark.
At that moment it became clear. The laid-back boy from Mariner's Haven was on a path to something much greater than anyone could have ever guessed.
Flashback
Not long after sunrise little Borsalino Boromante found himself perched atop a stack of weathered crates near the docks. His eyes—hidden behind sunglasses several sizes too large for his face—lazily skimmed over the hustle and bustle of port. His trademark yellow-striped hat cast shadow across his face making him appear even more nonchalant.
"Oi, Borsalino!" called a gruff voice. "What're you doing up there, son?"
The boy's head lolled to the side; grin split wider when he saw who it was. Captain Boromante, his father.
"Just watching the world go by pop," he drawled.
Suddenly a commotion erupted at the far end of docks. A ship had dropped anchor. Its black flag gave away what kind it was. Rough looking men began disembarking. Eyes darting furtively.
"Pirates," Captain Boromante said, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword. He turned to his son with a grave expression. "Borsalino, do you know why we Marines exist?"
The boy cocked his head, his smile never faltering. "To catch the bad guys, right Pop?"
His father laughed dryly. "It's not that simple, son. We exist to maintain order, to protect the innocent. But sometimes... sometimes the difference between what is 'right' and what is 'wrong' isn't always as clear as we'd like it to be."
As if on cue, a squad of Marines appeared around them-–-surrounding the pirate crew. Borsalino watched lazily as his father shouted commands and pirates were put into handcuffs with little resistance offered by them.
"You know, Borsalino," Captain Boromante said softly, "being a Marine isn't just about physical strength. It's about justice; it's about making the tough calls."
The child nodded, never tearing his eyes from the sight before him. "Ah, I see," he whispered vaguely. Whether or not he truly did understand remained to be seen.
As night fell, the docks grew still save for the gentle lapping of waves against wood. Driven by a curiosity that belied his laid-back demeanor, Borsalino found himself on board the impounded pirate ship.
The vessel groaned ominously as he descended below deck with bare feet padding silently across worn planks. In the captain's quarters—lit only by a lone flickering candle—something caught his eye.
There sat on a velvet cushion a fruit unlike any other he had ever seen. Its surface was yellow and white and swirled together in patterns almost hypnotic in their beauty.
"Ah!" Borsalino breathed out as his hand reached for it without thinking. "What're you?"
In response, the fruit seemed to glow from within; light pulsed quietly beneath its skin. Without another thought, Borsalino raised it to his lips and took a bite.
Its flavor was indescribable: sweet honey mixed with sour lemon mixed with shit. As he swallowed warmth spread throughout his body starting at his core and radiating outward.
All of a sudden, Borsalino's body began emitting light—first dimly then increasingly brighter hues—until finally nothing remained but pure radiant energy where once stood him.
"Well now," he chuckled curiously behind an always-present grin (one that had changed slightly). "Wouldn't you look at this?"
Finally the manchild had found the Devil Fruit which he had been looking for. He wondered if he should have gone to The Store System and bought a way to find this Devil Fruit but it seemed he was fine.
End Flashback
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the secluded cove where young Borsalino Boromante stood. His oversized sunglasses reflected the dying light as he raised his hands, concentrating.
"Ah, let's see what you got today, huh?" he drawled lazily with an uncharacteristic determination in his voice.
Then light burst forth from his fingertips, twirling and dancing through the air before him. Rocks around him glowed as if absorbing it.
From behind a cluster of weathered boulders, Solara watched with wide eyes full of fascination. Her heart raced at the sight of her childhood friend manipulating light like putty between fingers.
"Borsalino," she whispered so as not to break his concentration. "You really have become something else."
As the display grew more intense, Borsalino's grin flickered for a moment. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he struggled to rein in overflowing power.
"Easy now," he muttered to himself. "Don't wanna accidentally turn an island into a lighthouse or somethin', y'know?"
Then an errant beam shot out from his hand and seared through a tree nearby. The smell of burnt wood wafted through the air.
"Oh," Borsalino drawled with a returning grin despite the near-miss incident. "That ain't good."
Unable to contain her awe any longer, Solara stepped out from behind her hiding place. "Borsalino! That was amazing!"
The boy turned toward her voice breaking concentration; light faded leaving only natural glow emitted by setting sun.
"Hey Solara!" he said, a bit of surprise—and something else? regret?—in his voice. "You shouldn't be here, you know? It's not safe."
Solara's face fell, her excitement snuffed out like a candle in the wind. "We used to play together all the time," she said, barely above a whisper. "And now you're always training. Don't you miss it?"
Borsalino's grin wavered; for a moment sadness flitted across his face. "Things are different now, Solara-chan," he said seriously, uncharacteristically serious. "I've got a responsibility, ne? Can't just go playing around anymore."
As they made their way back toward town the air was thick with quiet conversations and sidelong glances; news of Borsalino's powers had spread through Mariner's Haven like wildfire (turning the once-well known boy into the talk of the town).
"There he is," muttered a gruff fisherman as they passed. "The light boy."
"I heard he can move faster than the eye can see," added another voice; awe and fear mixed in equal measure coloring those words.
Borsalino seemed oblivious to this attention, his lazy gait unchanged—but Solara could see the tension in his shoulders, could see how his eyes darted about beneath those oversized sunglasses.
At the edge of town they encountered Captain Boromante: there were worry lines etched into that face which hadn't been there one week prior.
"Borsalino," called Captain Boromante with relief and exasperation both in his voice: "Where have you been? We need to continue your training!"
The boy grinned wider. "Ooh Pop!" he drawled lazily: "I was just showing Solara-chan my new tricks ya know?"
Captain Boromante's face softened as he looked at Solara, then hardened again as he turned back to his son. "You know the dangers, Borsalino. Your powers aren't a toy—they're a responsibility. And I've got to balance my duties as a Marine Captain with helping you control this... gift."
And so it was that night fell over Mariner's Haven—the same night which found young Borsalino lying on his bed staring at the ceiling; light filled from within.
"Oh," he murmured, barely audible: "what a bother ne?"
But even as he said it (even) there played across his lips a small smile—for Borsalino Boromante, a laid-back boy who had seemingly stumbled upon unusual power(s), life had grown infinitely more complicated… and (infinitely) more interesting too.
And so (Then) he drifted off to sleep with consciousness receding like light itself, wondering what could possibly come next.
As dawn's first pale touch snaked in through windowpanes and curtain-crack alike, Borsalino Boromante stirred beneath sheets; those ever-present sunglasses fluttered open behind which eyes of green-gold glinted uneasily.
A moment later a strange ethereal interface flickered into life before him: invisible to all but himself.
It was time.
Behind it lay The Store System; buying his first Power for Units required by said-store's ruleset; every day is random drop of units ranging from insane numbers to nothing & it's been 8 years since becoming Kizaru.
"Store System" was faintly glowing in the air. A list of options appeared below the label. Borsalino's fingers hovered over them, still emitting a dim light.
One option stood out: "Lex Luthor [Prime-Earth] Template - Experience and Abilities."
"Interesting, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, grinning even wider than before. He chose it lazily, waving his hand but being careful not to accidentally select the "memories" choice; he didn't want to become someone else.
A wave of intellect rushed into his brain—-intricate scientific theories tangled up with strategic thinking patterns around an otherwise laid-back attitude. Blinking rapidly to try and adjust to this new knowledge-overload, Borsalino hardly had time to think about how strange it all felt.
The sun was high in the sky when Borsalino reached the training grounds. His father and Solara were already waiting for him. Captain Boromante's face was etched with worry, while Solara's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"You're late, son," Captain Boromante growled, hand resting on his sword's hilt. "We've got work to do."
Borsalino didn't miss a beat. "Eh, sorry Pop. Got a little… sidetracked this morning, ya know?"
Solara perched on a nearby rock and leaned forward eagerly. "Show us what you can do, Borsalino!" she called out, excitement lacing her voice-—along with something else; maybe a touch of longing for the carefree days they had once shared.
Borsalino raised his hands and let light begin to dance between his fingers. But this time was different. The wild unpredictability of before was gone, replaced by a controlled almost surgical precision.
"Eh, let's try somethin' new, ne?" he drawled through an undertone of newfound confidence.
Suddenly beams of light shot out from his fingertips leaving trails that wove intricate patterns in the air around them. The light bent and refracted off itself creating fully 3D structures that shimmered and pulsed with energy.
Captain Boromante's jaw dropped. "Borsalino," he breathed out—-"how... how are you doing this?"
The boy's grin widened even more. "Just a lil' trick I picked up pop—nothin' ta worry about ya know?"
As Borsalino continued to put on display after display Solara watched in awe but also growing unease. He was still her friend right? The boy before her still wore that lazy grin and drawled his words like always but there was something else now: a sharpness in his eyes that had never been there before.
"Borsalino," she called out over the hum of light energy, barely audible-—"are you still... you?"
The boy paused and the light around them dimmed slightly. For a moment something like confusion or concern flickered across his face, but then the grin was back as bright as ever.
"Eh, Solara-chan," he drawled—"of course it's still me. Just... a lil' smarter now ya know?"
As the training session wound down Captain Boromante clasped a hand on Borsalino's shoulder; pride and worry fighting for dominance in his eyes. "You've made incredible progress, Borsalino," he said—"but remember: with great power comes-"
"Great responsibility," Borsalino finished with an uncharacteristic edge of sarcasm. "Eh I know pop, I know."
As they made their way back to town—Solara hanging back just slightly—Borsalino's mind raced with new possibilities. The Store System had opened up an entirely new world for him but at what cost?
Young Borsalino Boromante's eyes glowed with unnerving light as newfound knowledge and power swirled within him like a storm barely contained.
The laid-back boy from the docks was changing; evolving into something… more. And so night fell, leaving hanging in the air, unspoken but palpable: What would he become?
In the days following young Borsalino Boromante's room became a shrine to his newfound genius. Papers covered every surface; filled with intricate diagrams and complex calculations. The soft glow of his light powers illuminated space casting eerie shadows as he worked tirelessly through the night
"Ah, yes! This has a fair chance of success!" He said with a sharp-edged smile. His fingers left trails of light as they moved across a map of the Grand Line. "If we put our troops here and here… the pirates'll never know what hit 'em."
Captain Boromante positioned himself at the entrance, his face showing signs of worry as he observed his son. "Borsalino," he whispered tenderly. "It's late. You should go to sleep."
The kid flipped around; the oversized sunglasses on his head reflected the light from the lamp post. "Sleep, Pop? Oh, no time for that. Not now that we're this close to fixing the pirate problem for good."
His father furrowed his eyebrows. "Son, it's not that simple. The world isn't black and white. Not all pirates are–"
"Bad?" Borsalino cut him off with an uncharacteristically sharp tone to his voice. "Maybe not, Pop. But they're still a threat to justice, ne? And justice… Well, justice is absolute."
As dawn came over Mariner's Haven, Solara headed towards Borsalino's house with hope in her chest-—it had been days since she'd seen her friend anywhere but at some grueling training.
She found him in his room among plans and calculations like always––celestial bodies were drawn out across tables while mathematical equations were scribbled across others. "Borsalino?" she called tentatively.
He looked up from underneath a perpetually present smile upon noticing her figure in the doorway; it softened slightly at her sight. "Oh, Solara-chan…" he drawled lazily. "What'cha doing here so early?"
Her gaze shifted rapidly throughout the room-–feverish work everywhere she looked. "I... I wanted to see if we could play today," she began hesitantly. "Like we used to?"
For a moment there was something else behind Borsalino's eyes––a glimpse into what this all really meant: freedom. But then he glanced back down at everything before him again; conflicted. "Ya know what, Solara-chan? That sounds like a great idea. These plans… they'll still be here later, ne?"
Joy lit up Solara's face. "Really? You mean it?"
"Of course," he said with a touch more of his old laid-back charm than before. "Can't be all work and no play, ya know? That's no way to live."
And so they ran through the streets of Mariner's Haven, playing tag and hide-and-seek, until Borsalino felt lighter than air. His intelligence hummed just beneath his skin––right there where anyone who looked close enough could see it––but for now it was just him and Solara being kids again.
"You can't catch me!" she called out into the wind as they raced down another street.
"Ohh, is that a challenge?" His grin was wider than it had been in days. He could've easily caught her with his light speed; but what fun would that have been?
As the sun began setting and casting long shadows across town, Borsalino and Solara collapsed on the grassy hillside; breathless from their play.
"I've missed this," she said softly; turning her head to look at him.
Borsalino's eyes softened. "Me too, Solara-chan. Me too."
But even while he was laying there, simply enjoying friendship in its purest form—-part of Borsalino's mind never stopped working. Store System had given him something... a gift or maybe a curse that he couldn't turn off completely. Planning. Strategizing.
Night fell over Mariner's Haven as young Borsalino found himself between two worlds: The carefree manchild he had always been versus the brilliant strategist he was quickly becoming. Laughter echoed in his ears from that day while plans and calculations called to him within his room like sirens.
Borsalino was in his room, which was dark but for the dim light that shone from his hands. He looked into a mirror and saw himself smiling like always, but there was something different about those eyes behind the glasses this time: they sparkled with purpose.
"Man, this is so annoying," he muttered, then grinned wider. "But maybe... just maybe it could be... fun?"
Author's Notes: If you guys really like this story and want to see more of this quickly, I will be releasing multiple chapters everyday on my p- at - re- on. pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
Remove the spaces obviously and dashes. If not go to the site and type in Bosillic. Until we meet again.
Edit: For Royal Road's verification Bosillic's Profile | Royal Road
Last edited:
The Dawn of Absolute Justice
The sun was low in the sky, covering the training ground with long shadows. Captain Boromante and Borsalino were finishing another hard practice. Sweat dripped from the boy's forehead, and instead of his usual lazy grin, he had a look of fierce determination.
"Hey, Pop," Borsalino said slowly. His voice had a somber tone for such a young person. "I've been thinking. Maybe it's time we take my training to the next level."
Curiosity mixed with concern on Captain Boromante's face as he raised an eyebrow at his son's words. "What do you mean?"
Borsalino twitched his fingers and little sparks of light danced between them. "I think... that you should teach me Haki."
A flash of worry crossed Captain Boromante's face as his eyes widened in shock. "Haki? Borsalino, that is not something to be taken lightly! It is a power that-"
"That requires great discipline and control," Borsalino interrupted impatiently. "I know, Pop! But look at what I can do now."
With a swift flick of his wrist, an intricate lattice of light appeared before Borsalino's hand, weaving complex patterns that shimmered and pulsed in the twilight. Captain Boromante watched with pride laced with unease.
"Your Devil Fruit powers have improved greatly beyond expectations son! However Haki is different because it doesn't just need control but also..."
"Willpower," said Borsalino quickly as he let out a grin again. "The strength of one's spirit right? Ooh, I think I'm ready for this challenge pop."
While making his case part of him just wanted to reveal where all this came from—Store System: Lex Luthor Template which has sharpened his mind so much—but he remained silent knowing some things are best left unsaid.
Captain Boromante paced back and forth with a furrowed brow before speaking up. "Learning Haki at your age, Borsalino... it's not impossible but very rare. The strain on your body and mind-"
"I can take it!" Borsalino cut in, his voice sounding older than his years. "You always said a Marine should be prepared for anything didn't you Pop? Well, this is me preparing!" Nothing was said between them for a few long seconds except the cries of seagulls in the distance. Captain Boromante stared deep into his son's eyes hoping to see fear or doubt but there was only determination behind those ever-present sunglasses.
Finally, he sighed and smiled ruefully. "You're not gonna let this go are ya?"
Borsalino's grin grew wider. "Ooh you know me Pop! Like the tide ne?"
Captain Boromante chuckled softly before shaking his head. "Alright son we'll start your Haki training. But I'm warning you now it's not going to be easy; It will push you harder than anything else ever has."
"That's what I want," Borsalino replied with an intense glint that sent shivers down Captain Boromante's spine as they walked home together bathed in orange and purple light from the setting sun. It felt like he was sending him off on something irrevocable.
"Borsalino," he muttered, "agree with me about something."
"What's that, old man?" His smile was still a little less vibrant than before, but still definitely present.
"You can become stronger than any living creature. You can get any power you want… just remember who you are. That's the main thing."
For one small moment, Borsalino's wide eyes narrowed and his lips twitched down into an unfamiliar shape—a frown? A grimace? It was gone too quickly to tell.
"Sure thing, Pop. I'll always be me. Just… better."
When night fell over Mariner's Haven, Borsalino Boromante was still standing at the edge of his life. The Power of the Light burned in his veins, Lex Luthor's genius sharpened his mind, and now Haki was calling out to him.
In the middle of the night, when even the sea seemed to hold its breath, young Borsalino Boromante sat cross-legged on his bed with only a dim light coming from between his fingers. His sunglasses hide his eyes as they stare into space.
"Ooh, what do we have here?" He mutters quietly. "Damage Data Insight? Sounds... interesting." With a thought, he buys it and feels that familiar tingle as a new power settles into him. A grin spreads across his face wider than usual.
"This should make things real interesting."
With the first rays of sunlight over the horizon came Captain Boromante in the training yard, face set with equal parts determination and worry. "Borsalino," He calls across to him. "You sure about this?"
The boy saunters into view, grin perfectly lazy as always. "Ooh Pops I was born ready," He drawls out lazily stretching.
Captain Boromante narrows his eyes beneath tired lines carved by years at sea. "This ain't a game kid. Haki training is intense; it's gonna hurt."
Borsalino's grin widens impossibly further. "Pain? Ooh that won't be a problem Pop trust me."
And they begin pieces of training and Captain Boromante doesn't hold back. He worked through his son with each blow designed to shake something loose and bring something new out. Where there should have been screams of pain, there was only silence.
"Huh," Borsalino mutters calmly as another strike lands true. "Left shoulder, minor contusion. Muscle fibers strained but not torn."
Captain Boromante hesitates after a particularly harsh blow; confusion written in the lines etched onto his face by windstorms. "Borsalino? Are you... are you alright?"
The grin never falters."Never better Pops. Shall we continue?"
Hours pass and still he's standing absorbing punishment that would shatter grown men like glass. His father watches with a combination of awe and horror at the shell of what could be his son pushing beyond all normal bounds.
"Ooh that last one was interesting." Borsalino comments casually like commenting on the weather outside. "Hairline fracture left radius nothing to worry about though ya know?"
Captain Boromante stumbles backward, face ash pale. "This... this ain't natural Borsalino we need to stop."
But the grin only widens—a manic gleam behind those sunglasses. "Stop? But Pop we're just getting started."
The sun sets casting long shadows across the training yard and Captain Boromante finally calls an end to it for tonight, Borsalino stands before him body painted black blue purple red in patches yet no hint of stress in posture or smile.
"Kid," the head of the ship said, his voice full of worry, "What happened to you? This is not… this isn't regular."
Borsalino inclined his head. "Regular? Oh, I guess not. But then again, Pops, when have I ever been usual?"
In the dim light of dusk, Captain Boromante saw something in his son's eyes that made him shudder. It was more than just determination and thirst for power. It was icy and calculating—alien.
"What have you done to yourself?" Captain Boromante whispered.
The boy's smile is believed to have been impossible to be any bigger, a Cheshire cat grin that appeared to split his face in half. "Nothing to worry. Oh, father, we are only just starting. This is strength's future, you know? No pain, no limits… Just power."
As Mariner's Haven fell into nightfall, young Borsalino Boromante teetered on the brink of a change that would rock the world to its core. In his room, bathed in the soft light of his light abilities, he examined himself with detached precision.
"Oh, what a fun day," he said to himself, words biting enough to make even the most courageous Marine shiver. "I wonder… How far can I take this?"
It was then that Borsalino smiled—a smile in which there was no promise of joy.
The sun had not yet risen when Borsalino's eyes snapped open and a grin split his face like porcelain shattering. He sat up in bed and flexed his fingers; he could feel the new power coursing through him.
"Ohh," he said as his arm turned black with Armament Haki. "Would ya look at that?"
Captain Boromante burst into the room, eyes wide with disbelief. "Borsalino? I felt… Is that…?"
The boy turned toward his father; even in the early morning light, one could see the sparkles on his ever-present sunglasses. "Haki, Pop! Just like you and I wanted! Pretty cool, huh?"
Captain Boromante stumbled backward; never before had shock and awe so completely overtaken him. "But… how? It took me years to master Haki! Decades for some! And you've done it in… days?"
Borsalino shrugged—-an oddly fluid motion for such a young child. "Eh," he said. "I guess I'm a quick learner, huh? All that training must've paid off or something."
The Captain narrowed his eyes; for a moment, unease flashed across his face. "The training…" he said slowly. "Borsalino, what you went through… No child should have been able to survive it. That's not natural."
For the briefest of moments, Borsalino's smile fell and there was a flicker of something dark hidden behind his sunglasses. Then it returned—-wider than ever. "Natural?" he chuckled, stepping past his father with an odd grace.
"Since when has anything about me been natural?"
As his father stood rooted in the doorway, grappling with the implications of his son's actions, Borsalino slipped by him with an unearthly smoothness.
"Well," he said over his shoulder as he started down the street toward Mariner's Haven proper, "if yah don't mind, Pop, I got a friend t' find. Can't keep Solara waitin', ya know?"
He walked through the streets with Lex Luthor's stolen brilliance filling his head with numbers and formulas—all made possible by those cold green eyes hidden behind familiar dark lenses.
Solara awaited Borsalino near the docks, as always. Her eyes sparkled with excitement when she saw him walking over. "Borsalino! You're back! How was the training?"
He paused briefly, remembering the pain that wasn't pain. It had never ended until it did. "Mm," he said after a moment, his grin sliding back into place. "'Enlightening,' I guess you could say. Lucky you weren't there—I think it would have put you off your breakfast."
Curiosity furrowed Solara's brow as she tilted her head at him. "What happened?"
Borsalino chuckled—though it sounded oddly hollow—and shrugged one shoulder carelessly. "Oh, y'know... this and that." He gave her a wink and nudged her side with his elbow. "But don't worry about it, okay? Old Borsalino's got everything under control."
They sat on the edge of the dock together, their feet hanging over the water, but something felt wrong to Borsalino—the sea breeze on his skin wasn't sharp enough, or maybe it was too sharp; the sun wasn't warm enough, or maybe it was too warm; Solara's laughter didn't sound right—it didn't sound like anything at all; everything felt muffled and dull like he was sitting on one side of thick glass while life went on around him on the other side.
For a moment, Borsalino thought of telling Solara everything. About the Store System, Lex Luthor's IQ, about Damage Data Insight that had let him surpass human limits. But he had seen her face and knew he couldn't.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky and created long shadows on the docks, young Borsalino Boromante sat with his friend across a gap of secrets. In his head, plans within plans unfolded, each bolder than the last.
"Hey, Solara," he said suddenly, his voice carrying an edge that could've made adults shudder. "What do you think about the future? About… changing the world?"
Solara laughed, oblivious to what was behind his words. "Change the world? That's crazy talk, Borsalino!"
But as Borsalino stared out at the horizon that seemed to stretch on forever—-his eyes hidden behind those ever-present sunglasses—-he knew it wasn't crazy anymore. The world didn't know what was rising in its midst: a force of light shaped by light itself; by borrowed intellect; by painlessness not understood by man.
The age of Kizaru was coming. And it would be blinding.
The sun sat low in the sky over Mariner's Haven and cast long shadows across its streets. Young Borsalino Boromante stood atop one such roof, a pair of sunglasses glinting in what little light remained. Below him walked a boy alone—-walking with purpose.
Borsalino activated his light powers with a thought-—his body becoming translucent—-and followed from shadow to shadow like this wasn't his first time doing it (which it was).
"This is almost too easy," he chuckled to himself. "Like a grown man stalking a child." He paused for dramatic effect before adding: "Oh wait! That's exactly what this is, ne?"
The boy below stopped in his tracks and looked around as if he could sense a presence. Borsalino held his breath, grinning wider than should be legally allowed.
Night had fallen by the time the boy arrived at an abandoned quarry. Borsalino watched from a cliff above, intrigued.
"Now what's a kid like you doing in a place like this?" he wondered aloud to himself.
And then the air around the boy began to shimmer with heat. Borsalino leaned forward, eyes widening behind his sunglasses.
"No…" he breathed. "It can't be…"
The boy clenched his fists-—and suddenly they were made of molten rock. Magma dripped from between his fingers and sizzled as it hit the ground.
Borsalino's grin spread impossibly wide. "Ooh, Sakazuki… or should I say Akainu? What a delightful surprise, ne?"
For hours on end, Borsalino watched as young Sakazuki trained himself to the limits of his magma powers. Every eruption of molten rock sent an electric thrill through Borsalino's body.
"My my," he murmured with excitement hanging off each word. "You always were my favorite, Akainu." He paused for dramatic effect (again) before continuing: "Even more than myself, can you believe that?"
As dawn approached, Sakazuki finally expended himself and fell to the ground breathing heavily—-steam rising from him into the early morning air. Borsalino stood up straight and stretched lazlly.
"Ooh what a show," he drawled with insouciance dripping out of every syllable. "I think it might be time we had a little chat, don't you?"
Borsalino appeared before exhausted Sakazuki in a flash of light-—the younger boy's eyes going wide with fear and shock.
"Wh-who are you?" Sakazuki stammered, trying to summon his magma but finding himself too drained.
Borsalino's grin broadened inhumanly. "Oh, just a friend. A person who recognizes real power when he sees one, you know?"
He bent down with his face inches away from Sakazuki's. "Tell me, Saka-chan, would you like to alter the world?"
Sakazuki's eyes narrowed; for a moment the future ruthless Admiral came out of him. "Alter…the world?"
Borsalino nodded; his smile never left his lips. "Yes sir! Me and you Saka-chan could fix this sorry justice system and build something… really absolute."
As the earliest beams of sunlight crawled over the horizon, two boys stood in a deserted quarry, smelling only sulfur and ambition. Borsalino Boromante, who would become Kizaru, stared down at Akainu-to-be Sakazuki, his mind racing.
"What do you say, Saka-chan?" Borsalino drawled, sticking out a hand. "Shall we show this world what true justice looks like?"
Sakazuki hesitated for a moment before taking Borsalino's hand. When their fingers touched, it was like a spark passing between them; a promise of the future that would shake the foundations of the globe.
Borsalino's grin widened impossibly. "Ooh, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, ne?"
It was then that history shifted course in Mariner's Haven; at once the pact was made under breaking dawn. Each boy carried with him knowledge and ambition far beyond their years—and set eyes upon an earth ready for conquering. The age of total justice had come to its birth; it would be too bright for anyone to see and too hot for anything to survive.
* * *
The sun beat mercilessly on Mariner's Haven but Borsalino Boromante didn't feel it. His eyes (always hidden behind sunglasses) were fixed on the boy beside him—-Sakazuki, future Admiral Akainu—whose very anger seemed controlled.
"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled, his grin wider than ever before. "Tell me about your parents again? It's such a... fascinating story."
Sakazuki's gaze hardened; magma simmered just below his skin. "They were good people, Borsalino," he said quietly. "Pirates took them from me."
"Simple?" Borsalino laughed quietly to himself—so quiet. "I don't think anything about you is simple, ne?"
Weeks turned to days and Borsalino peeled back the layers of Sakazuki's psyche; each new secret more delicious than the last. The loss of his parents was only a start—he knew there was something else; something that would push Sakazuki from justice to absolute.
"Say, Saka-chan," Borsalino said one evening as they watched the sunset over the harbor. "What happened after your parents died? Something... changed in you, didn't it?"
Sakazuki's fists clenched, steam rising from his skin. "That's... private, Borsalino."
Borsalino's grin widened impossibly. "Ooh, but we're friends aren't we? Best friends even—-no secrets between us, ne?"
For a moment—-just one single moment—-Sakazuki lost control and Borsalino saw the inferno burning inside him. It was glorious.
"Pop," Borsalino shouted out, his voice bouncing off the walls of the house. "I want you to meet someone."
Captain Boromante walked out of his study, deeply concerned as he took in Sakazuki. "Borsalino, who is this?"
"This," Borsalino said with a grin that stretched impossibly far, "is Sakazuki. My new... project."
The Captain's eyes narrowed. "Project? What have you gotten yourself into now?"
"Oh, nothing much," Borsalino drawled lazily. "Just reshaping how justice works for the next few centuries or so."
Sakazuki stepped forward, eyes burning with an intensity that even the old Captain had never seen before. "Sir, I want to learn. To grow stronger. To shield the innocent from those who would do them harm."
Captain Boromante looked at the boy hard for a moment, sensing something deep within him that was raw and powerful and untempered by time or training alone. "And what do you plan to do with that strength?"
"Destroy wickedness," Sakazuki stated without hesitation. "By any means necessary."
Captain Boromante's face went white as he realized what dangerous ground they were teetering on here—but before he could speak up in protest against such a path taken by one so young (let alone anyone at all), Borsalino cut him off.
"Now now Pop," he said lightly through his teeth; still smiling though it was barely there anymore—only evident in how tight his lips became around every word spoken after this point—"Isn't this what you've always wanted? To shape up Marines like never before then send 'em out into world ready for changing?"
Captain Boromante kept quiet for a while and stared at the two boys. What he saw in Sakazuki was nothing but a weapon that could be made better. But in his son, he saw something worse than that; he saw an eager hand that wanted to use it.
At last, sighing as if the whole world had been placed upon his shoulders, he said: "Fine then."
Borsalino's grin grew even bigger at this impossible promise; "Oh don't worry about us Pop! We'll be the most responsible little soldiers you've ever seen won't we Saka-chan?"
Sakazuki nodded gravely but there was a glint in his eye just like there was behind Borsalino's sunglasses.
As the night came down on Mariner's Haven two boys stood at the edge of everything. Borsalino Boromante who would become Kizaru and Sakazuki's future Admiral Akainu their fates tied together from here on out.
"This is it Saka-chan," Borsalino whispered eagerly. "The start of our great adventure! Are you ready to set the world ablaze?"
Sakazuki's reply was simple yet it sent shivers down Borsalino's spine with excitement.
"Always."
Author's Notes: If you guys really like this story and want to see more of this quickly, I will be releasing multiple chapters everyday on my p- at - re- on. pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
Remove the spaces obviously and dashes. If not go to the site and type in Bosillic. I currently have about 4 chapters on that site and more coming soon.
Until we meet again.
"Hey, Pop," Borsalino said slowly. His voice had a somber tone for such a young person. "I've been thinking. Maybe it's time we take my training to the next level."
Curiosity mixed with concern on Captain Boromante's face as he raised an eyebrow at his son's words. "What do you mean?"
Borsalino twitched his fingers and little sparks of light danced between them. "I think... that you should teach me Haki."
A flash of worry crossed Captain Boromante's face as his eyes widened in shock. "Haki? Borsalino, that is not something to be taken lightly! It is a power that-"
"That requires great discipline and control," Borsalino interrupted impatiently. "I know, Pop! But look at what I can do now."
With a swift flick of his wrist, an intricate lattice of light appeared before Borsalino's hand, weaving complex patterns that shimmered and pulsed in the twilight. Captain Boromante watched with pride laced with unease.
"Your Devil Fruit powers have improved greatly beyond expectations son! However Haki is different because it doesn't just need control but also..."
"Willpower," said Borsalino quickly as he let out a grin again. "The strength of one's spirit right? Ooh, I think I'm ready for this challenge pop."
While making his case part of him just wanted to reveal where all this came from—Store System: Lex Luthor Template which has sharpened his mind so much—but he remained silent knowing some things are best left unsaid.
Captain Boromante paced back and forth with a furrowed brow before speaking up. "Learning Haki at your age, Borsalino... it's not impossible but very rare. The strain on your body and mind-"
"I can take it!" Borsalino cut in, his voice sounding older than his years. "You always said a Marine should be prepared for anything didn't you Pop? Well, this is me preparing!" Nothing was said between them for a few long seconds except the cries of seagulls in the distance. Captain Boromante stared deep into his son's eyes hoping to see fear or doubt but there was only determination behind those ever-present sunglasses.
Finally, he sighed and smiled ruefully. "You're not gonna let this go are ya?"
Borsalino's grin grew wider. "Ooh you know me Pop! Like the tide ne?"
Captain Boromante chuckled softly before shaking his head. "Alright son we'll start your Haki training. But I'm warning you now it's not going to be easy; It will push you harder than anything else ever has."
"That's what I want," Borsalino replied with an intense glint that sent shivers down Captain Boromante's spine as they walked home together bathed in orange and purple light from the setting sun. It felt like he was sending him off on something irrevocable.
"Borsalino," he muttered, "agree with me about something."
"What's that, old man?" His smile was still a little less vibrant than before, but still definitely present.
"You can become stronger than any living creature. You can get any power you want… just remember who you are. That's the main thing."
For one small moment, Borsalino's wide eyes narrowed and his lips twitched down into an unfamiliar shape—a frown? A grimace? It was gone too quickly to tell.
"Sure thing, Pop. I'll always be me. Just… better."
When night fell over Mariner's Haven, Borsalino Boromante was still standing at the edge of his life. The Power of the Light burned in his veins, Lex Luthor's genius sharpened his mind, and now Haki was calling out to him.
In the middle of the night, when even the sea seemed to hold its breath, young Borsalino Boromante sat cross-legged on his bed with only a dim light coming from between his fingers. His sunglasses hide his eyes as they stare into space.
"Ooh, what do we have here?" He mutters quietly. "Damage Data Insight? Sounds... interesting." With a thought, he buys it and feels that familiar tingle as a new power settles into him. A grin spreads across his face wider than usual.
"This should make things real interesting."
With the first rays of sunlight over the horizon came Captain Boromante in the training yard, face set with equal parts determination and worry. "Borsalino," He calls across to him. "You sure about this?"
The boy saunters into view, grin perfectly lazy as always. "Ooh Pops I was born ready," He drawls out lazily stretching.
Captain Boromante narrows his eyes beneath tired lines carved by years at sea. "This ain't a game kid. Haki training is intense; it's gonna hurt."
Borsalino's grin widens impossibly further. "Pain? Ooh that won't be a problem Pop trust me."
And they begin pieces of training and Captain Boromante doesn't hold back. He worked through his son with each blow designed to shake something loose and bring something new out. Where there should have been screams of pain, there was only silence.
"Huh," Borsalino mutters calmly as another strike lands true. "Left shoulder, minor contusion. Muscle fibers strained but not torn."
Captain Boromante hesitates after a particularly harsh blow; confusion written in the lines etched onto his face by windstorms. "Borsalino? Are you... are you alright?"
The grin never falters."Never better Pops. Shall we continue?"
Hours pass and still he's standing absorbing punishment that would shatter grown men like glass. His father watches with a combination of awe and horror at the shell of what could be his son pushing beyond all normal bounds.
"Ooh that last one was interesting." Borsalino comments casually like commenting on the weather outside. "Hairline fracture left radius nothing to worry about though ya know?"
Captain Boromante stumbles backward, face ash pale. "This... this ain't natural Borsalino we need to stop."
But the grin only widens—a manic gleam behind those sunglasses. "Stop? But Pop we're just getting started."
The sun sets casting long shadows across the training yard and Captain Boromante finally calls an end to it for tonight, Borsalino stands before him body painted black blue purple red in patches yet no hint of stress in posture or smile.
"Kid," the head of the ship said, his voice full of worry, "What happened to you? This is not… this isn't regular."
Borsalino inclined his head. "Regular? Oh, I guess not. But then again, Pops, when have I ever been usual?"
In the dim light of dusk, Captain Boromante saw something in his son's eyes that made him shudder. It was more than just determination and thirst for power. It was icy and calculating—alien.
"What have you done to yourself?" Captain Boromante whispered.
The boy's smile is believed to have been impossible to be any bigger, a Cheshire cat grin that appeared to split his face in half. "Nothing to worry. Oh, father, we are only just starting. This is strength's future, you know? No pain, no limits… Just power."
As Mariner's Haven fell into nightfall, young Borsalino Boromante teetered on the brink of a change that would rock the world to its core. In his room, bathed in the soft light of his light abilities, he examined himself with detached precision.
"Oh, what a fun day," he said to himself, words biting enough to make even the most courageous Marine shiver. "I wonder… How far can I take this?"
It was then that Borsalino smiled—a smile in which there was no promise of joy.
The sun had not yet risen when Borsalino's eyes snapped open and a grin split his face like porcelain shattering. He sat up in bed and flexed his fingers; he could feel the new power coursing through him.
"Ohh," he said as his arm turned black with Armament Haki. "Would ya look at that?"
Captain Boromante burst into the room, eyes wide with disbelief. "Borsalino? I felt… Is that…?"
The boy turned toward his father; even in the early morning light, one could see the sparkles on his ever-present sunglasses. "Haki, Pop! Just like you and I wanted! Pretty cool, huh?"
Captain Boromante stumbled backward; never before had shock and awe so completely overtaken him. "But… how? It took me years to master Haki! Decades for some! And you've done it in… days?"
Borsalino shrugged—-an oddly fluid motion for such a young child. "Eh," he said. "I guess I'm a quick learner, huh? All that training must've paid off or something."
The Captain narrowed his eyes; for a moment, unease flashed across his face. "The training…" he said slowly. "Borsalino, what you went through… No child should have been able to survive it. That's not natural."
For the briefest of moments, Borsalino's smile fell and there was a flicker of something dark hidden behind his sunglasses. Then it returned—-wider than ever. "Natural?" he chuckled, stepping past his father with an odd grace.
"Since when has anything about me been natural?"
As his father stood rooted in the doorway, grappling with the implications of his son's actions, Borsalino slipped by him with an unearthly smoothness.
"Well," he said over his shoulder as he started down the street toward Mariner's Haven proper, "if yah don't mind, Pop, I got a friend t' find. Can't keep Solara waitin', ya know?"
He walked through the streets with Lex Luthor's stolen brilliance filling his head with numbers and formulas—all made possible by those cold green eyes hidden behind familiar dark lenses.
Solara awaited Borsalino near the docks, as always. Her eyes sparkled with excitement when she saw him walking over. "Borsalino! You're back! How was the training?"
He paused briefly, remembering the pain that wasn't pain. It had never ended until it did. "Mm," he said after a moment, his grin sliding back into place. "'Enlightening,' I guess you could say. Lucky you weren't there—I think it would have put you off your breakfast."
Curiosity furrowed Solara's brow as she tilted her head at him. "What happened?"
Borsalino chuckled—though it sounded oddly hollow—and shrugged one shoulder carelessly. "Oh, y'know... this and that." He gave her a wink and nudged her side with his elbow. "But don't worry about it, okay? Old Borsalino's got everything under control."
They sat on the edge of the dock together, their feet hanging over the water, but something felt wrong to Borsalino—the sea breeze on his skin wasn't sharp enough, or maybe it was too sharp; the sun wasn't warm enough, or maybe it was too warm; Solara's laughter didn't sound right—it didn't sound like anything at all; everything felt muffled and dull like he was sitting on one side of thick glass while life went on around him on the other side.
For a moment, Borsalino thought of telling Solara everything. About the Store System, Lex Luthor's IQ, about Damage Data Insight that had let him surpass human limits. But he had seen her face and knew he couldn't.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky and created long shadows on the docks, young Borsalino Boromante sat with his friend across a gap of secrets. In his head, plans within plans unfolded, each bolder than the last.
"Hey, Solara," he said suddenly, his voice carrying an edge that could've made adults shudder. "What do you think about the future? About… changing the world?"
Solara laughed, oblivious to what was behind his words. "Change the world? That's crazy talk, Borsalino!"
But as Borsalino stared out at the horizon that seemed to stretch on forever—-his eyes hidden behind those ever-present sunglasses—-he knew it wasn't crazy anymore. The world didn't know what was rising in its midst: a force of light shaped by light itself; by borrowed intellect; by painlessness not understood by man.
The age of Kizaru was coming. And it would be blinding.
The sun sat low in the sky over Mariner's Haven and cast long shadows across its streets. Young Borsalino Boromante stood atop one such roof, a pair of sunglasses glinting in what little light remained. Below him walked a boy alone—-walking with purpose.
Borsalino activated his light powers with a thought-—his body becoming translucent—-and followed from shadow to shadow like this wasn't his first time doing it (which it was).
"This is almost too easy," he chuckled to himself. "Like a grown man stalking a child." He paused for dramatic effect before adding: "Oh wait! That's exactly what this is, ne?"
The boy below stopped in his tracks and looked around as if he could sense a presence. Borsalino held his breath, grinning wider than should be legally allowed.
Night had fallen by the time the boy arrived at an abandoned quarry. Borsalino watched from a cliff above, intrigued.
"Now what's a kid like you doing in a place like this?" he wondered aloud to himself.
And then the air around the boy began to shimmer with heat. Borsalino leaned forward, eyes widening behind his sunglasses.
"No…" he breathed. "It can't be…"
The boy clenched his fists-—and suddenly they were made of molten rock. Magma dripped from between his fingers and sizzled as it hit the ground.
Borsalino's grin spread impossibly wide. "Ooh, Sakazuki… or should I say Akainu? What a delightful surprise, ne?"
For hours on end, Borsalino watched as young Sakazuki trained himself to the limits of his magma powers. Every eruption of molten rock sent an electric thrill through Borsalino's body.
"My my," he murmured with excitement hanging off each word. "You always were my favorite, Akainu." He paused for dramatic effect (again) before continuing: "Even more than myself, can you believe that?"
As dawn approached, Sakazuki finally expended himself and fell to the ground breathing heavily—-steam rising from him into the early morning air. Borsalino stood up straight and stretched lazlly.
"Ooh what a show," he drawled with insouciance dripping out of every syllable. "I think it might be time we had a little chat, don't you?"
Borsalino appeared before exhausted Sakazuki in a flash of light-—the younger boy's eyes going wide with fear and shock.
"Wh-who are you?" Sakazuki stammered, trying to summon his magma but finding himself too drained.
Borsalino's grin broadened inhumanly. "Oh, just a friend. A person who recognizes real power when he sees one, you know?"
He bent down with his face inches away from Sakazuki's. "Tell me, Saka-chan, would you like to alter the world?"
Sakazuki's eyes narrowed; for a moment the future ruthless Admiral came out of him. "Alter…the world?"
Borsalino nodded; his smile never left his lips. "Yes sir! Me and you Saka-chan could fix this sorry justice system and build something… really absolute."
As the earliest beams of sunlight crawled over the horizon, two boys stood in a deserted quarry, smelling only sulfur and ambition. Borsalino Boromante, who would become Kizaru, stared down at Akainu-to-be Sakazuki, his mind racing.
"What do you say, Saka-chan?" Borsalino drawled, sticking out a hand. "Shall we show this world what true justice looks like?"
Sakazuki hesitated for a moment before taking Borsalino's hand. When their fingers touched, it was like a spark passing between them; a promise of the future that would shake the foundations of the globe.
Borsalino's grin widened impossibly. "Ooh, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, ne?"
It was then that history shifted course in Mariner's Haven; at once the pact was made under breaking dawn. Each boy carried with him knowledge and ambition far beyond their years—and set eyes upon an earth ready for conquering. The age of total justice had come to its birth; it would be too bright for anyone to see and too hot for anything to survive.
* * *
The sun beat mercilessly on Mariner's Haven but Borsalino Boromante didn't feel it. His eyes (always hidden behind sunglasses) were fixed on the boy beside him—-Sakazuki, future Admiral Akainu—whose very anger seemed controlled.
"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled, his grin wider than ever before. "Tell me about your parents again? It's such a... fascinating story."
Sakazuki's gaze hardened; magma simmered just below his skin. "They were good people, Borsalino," he said quietly. "Pirates took them from me."
"Simple?" Borsalino laughed quietly to himself—so quiet. "I don't think anything about you is simple, ne?"
Weeks turned to days and Borsalino peeled back the layers of Sakazuki's psyche; each new secret more delicious than the last. The loss of his parents was only a start—he knew there was something else; something that would push Sakazuki from justice to absolute.
"Say, Saka-chan," Borsalino said one evening as they watched the sunset over the harbor. "What happened after your parents died? Something... changed in you, didn't it?"
Sakazuki's fists clenched, steam rising from his skin. "That's... private, Borsalino."
Borsalino's grin widened impossibly. "Ooh, but we're friends aren't we? Best friends even—-no secrets between us, ne?"
For a moment—-just one single moment—-Sakazuki lost control and Borsalino saw the inferno burning inside him. It was glorious.
"Pop," Borsalino shouted out, his voice bouncing off the walls of the house. "I want you to meet someone."
Captain Boromante walked out of his study, deeply concerned as he took in Sakazuki. "Borsalino, who is this?"
"This," Borsalino said with a grin that stretched impossibly far, "is Sakazuki. My new... project."
The Captain's eyes narrowed. "Project? What have you gotten yourself into now?"
"Oh, nothing much," Borsalino drawled lazily. "Just reshaping how justice works for the next few centuries or so."
Sakazuki stepped forward, eyes burning with an intensity that even the old Captain had never seen before. "Sir, I want to learn. To grow stronger. To shield the innocent from those who would do them harm."
Captain Boromante looked at the boy hard for a moment, sensing something deep within him that was raw and powerful and untempered by time or training alone. "And what do you plan to do with that strength?"
"Destroy wickedness," Sakazuki stated without hesitation. "By any means necessary."
Captain Boromante's face went white as he realized what dangerous ground they were teetering on here—but before he could speak up in protest against such a path taken by one so young (let alone anyone at all), Borsalino cut him off.
"Now now Pop," he said lightly through his teeth; still smiling though it was barely there anymore—only evident in how tight his lips became around every word spoken after this point—"Isn't this what you've always wanted? To shape up Marines like never before then send 'em out into world ready for changing?"
Captain Boromante kept quiet for a while and stared at the two boys. What he saw in Sakazuki was nothing but a weapon that could be made better. But in his son, he saw something worse than that; he saw an eager hand that wanted to use it.
At last, sighing as if the whole world had been placed upon his shoulders, he said: "Fine then."
Borsalino's grin grew even bigger at this impossible promise; "Oh don't worry about us Pop! We'll be the most responsible little soldiers you've ever seen won't we Saka-chan?"
Sakazuki nodded gravely but there was a glint in his eye just like there was behind Borsalino's sunglasses.
As the night came down on Mariner's Haven two boys stood at the edge of everything. Borsalino Boromante who would become Kizaru and Sakazuki's future Admiral Akainu their fates tied together from here on out.
"This is it Saka-chan," Borsalino whispered eagerly. "The start of our great adventure! Are you ready to set the world ablaze?"
Sakazuki's reply was simple yet it sent shivers down Borsalino's spine with excitement.
"Always."
Author's Notes: If you guys really like this story and want to see more of this quickly, I will be releasing multiple chapters everyday on my p- at - re- on. pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
Remove the spaces obviously and dashes. If not go to the site and type in Bosillic. I currently have about 4 chapters on that site and more coming soon.
Until we meet again.
A Crucible of Light and Magma
The horizons grew dark as clouds started gathering when the sea churned ominously. Borsalino Boromante was on the highest view in Mariner's Haven, his ever-present grin stretched across the face. Next to him, the much younger Sakazuki narrowed his eyes, peering into the waters as if trying to see further through them.
"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled. "I think our little paradise is about to get a wakeup call, ne?"
Sakazuki's hands clenched into fists, and through his skin wisps of steam erupted. "Pirates," and he spat it like a venomous word.
As if summoned by his frustration, rounding the bend was one giant ship with sails of bloody red, a grinning skull wreathed in fire at their center—the sigil that had spent a week standing out like a beacon in his mind, associated with the infamous Bloody Scourge pirates.
"My, my," Borsalino chuckled, his voice laced with anticipation. "If it isn't Captain 'Hellfire' Hank and his merry band of murderers. What a delightful surprise."
Sakazuki turned to him, eyes burning with fury. "You know them?"
Borsalino's grin widened impossibly. "Oh, I know of them, Saka-chan. They're quite the celebrities in certain circles. Known for their… thorough approach to pillaging."
Captain Boromante jerked out of his office, sour expression twisted up as he eyed the incoming threat. "Boys!" he barked. "Get to safety. This is no place for children."
Borsalino cackled, his laugh rang hollow, unnaturally loud across the harbor. "Ooh, but Pop, we ain't just any children, remember? We're the future of justice! Right?"
The Captain narrowed, feeling a cold shiver down his spine at the gleam in his son's eyes. "This is not a game, Borsalino. These pirates are-"
"Monsters?" Sakazuki interrupted, his voice horribly calm. "Good. It's time they met some real monsters."
Chaos reigned the moment the ship belonging to the Crimson Scourge dropped anchor in the harbor. The pirates converged on the streets, with the enormous figure of 'Hellfire' Hank leading the charge. Laughter burst from the pirate captain across the harbor as his Logia fire Devil Fruit powers set buildings ablaze.
"Get the civilians to safety!" Captain Boromante charged into the thick of it, his sword flashing in the firelight. "I'll deal with Hank!"
Borsalino watched further as the carnage unfolded, not losing his grin for one heartbeat. "Ooh, Saka-chan, isn't it wonderful? This destruction. This injustice. Begging to be corrected."
Sakazuki nodded, his eyes mirroring the flames that consumed their home. "Let's show them what true justice looks like."
As Captain Boromante clashed with 'Hellfire' Hank, trading blows that shook the very foundations of Mariner's Haven, two small figures darted through the chaos. Borsalino moved like light itself, appearing and then disappearing in flashes that left pirates stumbling and confused. Sakazuki was a force of nature, his fists coated in magma that melted through weapons and flesh alike.
'"What the hell?!" Hank roared as his concentration was broken, for a second, from his duel with Boromante. "Since when do Marines use child soldiers?"
The pale face of Captain Boromante watched as his son and Sakazuki carved their way through the pirate ranks. "No. Boys, stop! This isn't-"
But his words were drowned by Borsalino's laughter and the screams of burning pirates.
Unsurprisingly, that Battle was soon to be shifted. The Crimson Scourge, despite their astonishing brutality, stood no chance against the unholy combination of Borsalino's speed and Sakazuki's blunt destructive power.
"Pop!" came the cheerful sound of Borsalino amidst all the carnage. "We are in good hands here. Why don't you show Captain Hank what a real Marine can do?"
Boromante stumbled, proud of his son's prowess, and horrified at the ruthlessness on display. But as Hank launched another fiery assault, he steeled himself and charged forward.
At last, it was almost anticlimactic. 'Hellfire' Hank lay defeated at Captain Boromante's feet, his crew either captured or scattered to the winds, and all was quiet. But as the dust settled and the fires smoldered, an eerie silence fell over Mariner's Haven.
Borsalino and Sakazuki stood dead center in the wreckage, their little forms casting long shadows as the sun fell. Captain Boromante approached them carefully, his face twisted with so many mixed emotions; it looked like it might split at the seams.
"Boys," he began, voice hoarse. "What you did today was."
"Justice," Sakazuki responded with such an air of firmness, his eyes still blazing with that intensity.
"Ooh, more than that, Saka-chan," drawled Borsalino, his grin ever wider. "It was absolute justice."
Nightfall had spread its cloak over the scarred ruins of Mariner's Haven. Captain Boromante gazed down at the two boys before him: one his son by blood, and the other swiftly becoming a son in spirit. He saw in them the future of the Marines—justice itself. Only for the first time, within the lengthened perspective of a long career, he glimpsed a flicker of fear at what that future might bring.
"C'mon," he finally said, turning toward home. "We have a lot to discuss."
Borsalino and Sakazuki fell in, their small forms silhouetted against the burning horizon. The age of absolute justice reared its head for its virgin, blood-slick steps, and the world would never be the same.
The aftermath of the Crimson Scourge's attack hung over Mariner's Haven like a pall. Alone in his study, Captain Boromante sat at his desk, his lined, leathered face filled with worry as he looked down at the two before him: Borsalino's ever-present grin seemed to mock the gravity of the situation at hand, while Sakazuki's eyes smoldered with barely contained fury.
"Boys," the Captain began, his voice heavy, "what went down yesterday… it wasn't right."
The smile, impossibly, grew wider as Borsalino's head tipped back impossibly. "Ooh? But Pop, we saved the day, didn't we? Isn't that what justice is all about?"
Behind those guileless orbs whirred a mind centuries older, more calculating. Borsalino Boromante was no mere 8-year-old prodigy; to Dependency, he was a man out of time and space, his mind transplanted into this young body with the puppet master Lex Luthor. The irony, he almost wanted to laugh, around how he found himself playing at being a child whilst carrying worlds in his head.
"It's not that simple, Borsalino," Captain Boromante sighed. "The level of violence you both displayed… it's just not normal for children your age. I'm worried about what this might be doing to you. To both of you."
Sakazuki stepped forward, the small frame radiating an intensity that belied his years. "With all due respect sir, we did what was necessary. The pirates were a threat and we neutralized that threat. Isn't that what the Marines stand for?"
Captain Boromante's frown deepened. "The Marines stand for justice, Sakazuki. But there's a fine line between justice and vengeance. I fear you boys might be straying too close to that line."
Borsalino's laugh echoed unnaturally in the small room. "Oh, Pop, you worry too much! We're just eager to learn, to become the best Marines we can be. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
He fixed his gaze on his son's face, narrowed, for something—for some glimpse of the innocent child slowly leaving him, maybe. But all he could see was that chilling smile and impassive eyes behind the everlasting sunglasses.
"I want you to grow up to be good men," he slowly went on. "Men who understand the weight of their actions, the responsibility that comes with power."
Sakazuki nodded seriously. "We understand, sir. We will be more careful in the future. Right, Borsalino?"
"Ooh, absolutely!" Borsalino chirped, his voice oozing sincerity that only an adult mind could conjure up that perfectly. "We will prove to be the most responsible little Marines you ever did see. No more gratuitous violence, cross our hearts!"
For a moment, Captain Boromante looked at the two boys before him, and his instinct battled to win over his will to trust them. He sighed at last. "Okay, boys. I believe both of you. But remember being a Marine isn't by strength alone; it also entails wisdom, compassion, and wisdom to show mercy."
And as though on cue, a Marine came tumbling through the open doors of the study. His face was bone white, and he wore the expression of a man panicked. "Captain! It's 'Hellfire' Hank! He's escaped!"
The room fell into instant silence as the weight of the new threat sank in over them like a shroud. Captain Boromante leapt to his feet, barking orders as he rushed out the door.
Amidst the chaos, Borsalino now wore a grin more predatory than ever as he turned to Sakazuki. "Ooh, Saka-chan, looks like our little game's not through yet. Now, what do you say we go hunting?"
Sakazuki's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Any time."
Night came down on Mariner's Haven, and the whispers just started to rise up once more about 'Hellfire' Hank and his escape. For all his scurvy renown, that pirate captain had vanished into thin air. Only a cryptic warning in his own bloody hand, sprawled across his cell wall—marking his passage: "The fire rises. Be ready."
Two small figures slipped away from the Boromante household into the night. Of a madman's pace was Borsalino's mind—plans within plans unfolding.
"Nee, Saka-chan," he drawled as they made their way towards the docks, "what do you say we make things a little more. interesting?"
Sakazuki's answer was a grim smile that promised retribution. "I'm listening."
As the stars blinked into existence above them, an anticipatory shudder ran through Borsalino. The game was finally afoot, and he was supposed to be in full control.
The night was but young, and the hunt was on.
The heavy night smelled strongly of scorching wood and flesh. Streams of water trickled down the eyes of Captain Boromante as the acrid smoke, from 'Hellfire' Hank's smoldering fingertips, consumed the old, wooden fibers throughout the long-abandoned warehouse. The blaze was entrapping.
"Well, well, Captain," rasped Hank, a cruel smile tugging at his already scarred features. "Looks like the tables of fate have indeed turned, eh? None of your precious little monsters to come save you now."
Boromante coughed up blood, the look in his eyes defiant. "They ain't monsters, Hank. They're kids. And they're more man than you'll ever be."
Hank laughed and the sound bounced off the grimy walls. "Kids? Oh, Captain. You really have no idea what you're dealing with, do you?"
A few towns over, Borsalino jerked his head up, grin faltering for the first time in years. Something was wrong. He could feel it in the air, a power, a disturbance in the very fabric of the world he had come to manipulate.
"Saka-chan, we need to move. Now."
Sakazuki appeared at his side, eyes already blazing with anticipation. "What is it?"
"Pop's in trouble. I can feel it." Calculations and chances ran through his mind behind eyes that seemed all too young. "Hellfire's made his move."
Street lamps whipped past in a blur as they sprinted through the Mariner's Haven night, the whispers of panic and bitter acrid scent of smoke on the wind. Rounding a corner, Borsalino skidded to a stop, his blood turning to ice in his veins.
There, underneath the flickering street lamps, was a body—charred beyond identification, except for a single lock of golden hair.
"Solara," Sakazuki breathed, voice strung taut with shock.
Borsalino knelt beside the body, and his mind flashed back to expressions of mirth shared silently, clichéd stolen glances, a sweetness that had also cut straight through to his jaded adult awareness: Solara, the baker's daughter, never looking at him with avarice or suspicion, never really wanting anything out of this cruel sham of a game.
For an instant, for a moment, his slow mask fell. Rage, cold and awful, twisted Borsalino's features into something nonhuman. His hand shook as he reached to shut Solara's still-open, terror-filled eyes.
"Borsalino," Sakazuki's voice cut through the haze of fury. "We need to keep moving. Your father—"
"Yeah," Borsalino interrupted, standing. The smile was back in place, but now it held an edge that would have chilled even the bravest soul. "Yes, we mustn't keep Pop waiting, ne? After all, we have so much to discuss with our dear friend Hank."
As they kept on running on the darkened streets, Borsalino's mind was in an absolute whirl. Plans that he'd put so carefully together, the long-game strategy he'd been playing since coming into this world, it all threatened to unravel in the wake of this sudden, unforeseen loss.
"Saka-chan," he said, voice low and controlled. "When we find Hank, I want you to promise me something."
Sakazuki glanced at him, curiosity warring for a moment with the ever-present anger in his eyes.
"What?"
"No matter what happens, no matter what you see or hear, you follow my lead. Can you do that?"
For a moment, Sakazuki hesitated. Something was different about his friend, and he felt it, even at that tender age. But then he nodded, resolute. "Always."
That put a fuller grin on Borsalino, which was an ugly thing in the shifting flicker of shadows. "Good. Because tonight, Saka-chan, we're going to teach Hellfire Hank the real meaning of justice."
Approaching the warehouse district, with the sounds of struggle ringing through the air, Borsalino felt the familiar thrill of anticipation stir in his veins. The game had changed; the stakes were higher than he had imagined. But that only made it more exciting.
Poor Hank, he thought, as his mind already began to work out a thousand exquisite torments. You have no idea what inferno you have just stepped into.
Here the night lay before them, pregnant with possibility and violence.
The sprawling shadow of the warehouse loomed before them against the star-sprinkled sky. Borsalino and Sakazuki crouched in the darkness, their young bodies racked by a mixture of anticipation and dread.
Inside they could hear the struggle, muffled but plainly continuing, punctuated by Hellfire Hank's grating guffaws.
"Remember, Saka-chan," Borsalino was muttering very lowly now, the grin gone from his face, replaced by a thin, taut line. "We can't rush in. One wrong move, an' Pop's—"
"I know," Sakazuki growled, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles showed white. "But how long do we wait?"
Before Borsalino could answer, Hank's voice suddenly boomed out, as if he'd been waiting for this very moment. "Come on in, boys! I know you're out there. Let's have a little chat, shall we?"
Swallowing hard, the two youths entered the warehouse. The scene before them was similar to something from a nightmare. Captain Boromante was hung out in the middle from the rafters, a bloody, battered mass. Hank stood by him, one flaming hand resting in the air beside the Captain's face.
"Ah, here they are!" Hank cackled, "The little monsters themselves. So tell me, boys, what's it like to be the heroes of Mariner's Haven?"
Borsalino's mind raced as he realized he was not fast enough yet to strike Hank down before the pirate could do damage to his father. Worse, he could sense the crackling energy of Haki surrounding Hank—a power that would outmatch his for now.
"Let him go, Hank," Borsalino said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "This is between us now."
Hank's face split into an awful grin that pulled his scarred face out of shape. "Ah, but you're wrong, light. This? This is about potential. Destiny."
Hank began to pace, his eyes never leaving the boys. "You see, I've been seen you two. The things you've done, the power you possess—it's extraordinary. But, sandbagged, tethered, hog-tied by grandmothers' stories of doing good."
Captain Boromante struggled weakly against his bonds. "Don't… listen to him… boys."
"Quiet, old man," Hank snarled, but he was already turning back to Borsalino and Sakazuki. "Think about it. With your powers, your intellect—you could reshape this world. No more corrupt governments, no more pirate scum. Just pure, unadulterated order."
Borsalino felt Sakazuki go very still beside him. His friend was listening, maybe, too closely.
"But there's one thing holding you back," Hank continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "One last tie to your old, weak selves." With a sudden, violent motion, Hank's flaming hand plunged into Captain Boromante's chest.
Time seemed to slow. Borsalino watched—his adult mind screaming in horror behind the façade of a child's face—as his father's eyes widened in shock, in pain. Captain Boromante's mouth opened, but no sound came out—merely a tiny trickle of blood.
"Pop!" Sakazuki's anguished cry cut through the warehouse like a knife.
Hank withdrew his hand, letting Captain Boromante's lifeless body swing gently from the rafters. "There," he said, almost gently. "Now you're free. Free to become what you were always meant to be."
For a moment, silence reigned. Then, with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the warehouse, Sakazuki exploded into action. His body transformed, magma flowing from his skin as he launched himself at Hank.
Borsalino then just stood paralyzed at that mix of emotions; grief, rage, and another element, a cold calculating fury that could consume him whole. His thoughts were running amok while Sakazuki wrestled Hank, filling their room with steam and the smell of burnt flesh, something in Borsalino seemed to snap there.
His grin sprang back, wider and more terrible than before. Light began to gather around him, pulsating with an intensity that drove the shadows scurrying towards the corners of the warehouse.
"Ooh, Hank-san," he called out, his voice dripping in a sweetness that belied the horror about to come. "I reckon it's the only time we showed you what our real potential is."
The warehouse turned into an arc furnace right alongside the small figure of Borsalino, jittering with unrestrained power. The battle that would come to pass speaks whispers of itself; it is a tale of two children who, one terrible night, become the monsters they had always been fated to be.
The warehouse became a heel pit of light and magma, air so thick with smoke and the acridly salty smell of burning flesh. Borsalino and Sakazuki fought with a fury that belied their times being young, small bodies pushed to the very limits of endurance. "Come on, boys!" taunted Hank, blocking Sakazuki's magma fist with a Haki-infused arm. "Is this all the potential you have? Show me what you're really capable of!"
Borsalino's chest heaved with the discharge of yet another barrage of light beams. "Ooh, Hank-san," he panted, his ever-present grin now a rictus of pain and determination. "You may want to be careful what you wish for."
Each time he fired an assault, Hank would be returning with a counter. One step ahead, he moved with this fluid grace, instinct honed by endless years of combat experience.
"You see?" Hank laughed, ducking under Sakazuki's berserker swing. "THIS is power. This is what you could become!"
Time lost all meaning in the inferno of their battle, as hours passed—or perhaps it was only minutes. Borsalino felt his strength waning with each moment that passed, his light growing dimmer. Beside him, Sakazuki's magma had cooled and cracked, revealing the child beyond.
"I have to admit." painted Hank, who was barely out of breath, "You've impressed me, but you're still not there yet. You need more."
Faster still, even beyond what had surprised Borsalino, Hank closed the distance. His wreathed fist in flames and Haki connected with Sakazuki's jaw. The boy flew across the warehouse, crashing into a stack of crates with a sickening crunch.
"Saka-chan!" Borsalino cried, his mask of calm cracking.
Turning to Hank, light began gathering around his fists. "You'll pay for that, Hank-san."
But he was already moving, a vicious knee to the stomach causing all the breath to leave Borsalino's lungs. He gasped for breath as Hank took him by the throat and hoisted him off the ground.
"Hmm," Hank mused, face millimeters away from Borsalino, half-scarred, the other half gleaming dully, "I think I miscalculated. You might not be the right guy to handle this much power, after all. Maybe. I should just put an end to this here and now."
Borsalino weakly struggled, the edges of his vision darkening. He felt the heat from that free hand of Hank's, the killing blow almost certainly about to come. At that moment, Borsalino felt something he hadn't experienced in a very long time—fear.
"Ready to say those final words, light-headed?" Hank jeered.
Borsalino gave a weak smile. "Just one moment. Hank-san. Duck."
Confusion flitted over Hank's face, but an instant later, a massive fist exploded from his chest in a spray of blood and bone.
"Looks like I made it just in time," Garp growled, his knuckles dripping with Hank's blood. "You boys alright?"
Borsalino couldn't answer. The world sped up around him, darkness lapping at his vision from the edges of his eyes. And then, there was Sakazuki, bloody and battered, crawling towards him.
"Borsalino." Sakazuki rasped.
Borsalino was oddly relieved to see the world fade to black, though he was tired beyond belief. His was a searing quest for retribution, coupled with the will he longed for in order never to feel so impotent again.
After that terrible night, as Mariner's Haven smoldered and two young boys lay broken in body yet not in spirit, a seed was planted, a seed that would later bloom into something very horrible indeed, far greater than anything Hellfire Hank could have dreamt up.
Author's Notes: Happy Late 4th of July. If you guys want to show support and not one day see this story dropped. Support me on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled. "I think our little paradise is about to get a wakeup call, ne?"
Sakazuki's hands clenched into fists, and through his skin wisps of steam erupted. "Pirates," and he spat it like a venomous word.
As if summoned by his frustration, rounding the bend was one giant ship with sails of bloody red, a grinning skull wreathed in fire at their center—the sigil that had spent a week standing out like a beacon in his mind, associated with the infamous Bloody Scourge pirates.
"My, my," Borsalino chuckled, his voice laced with anticipation. "If it isn't Captain 'Hellfire' Hank and his merry band of murderers. What a delightful surprise."
Sakazuki turned to him, eyes burning with fury. "You know them?"
Borsalino's grin widened impossibly. "Oh, I know of them, Saka-chan. They're quite the celebrities in certain circles. Known for their… thorough approach to pillaging."
Captain Boromante jerked out of his office, sour expression twisted up as he eyed the incoming threat. "Boys!" he barked. "Get to safety. This is no place for children."
Borsalino cackled, his laugh rang hollow, unnaturally loud across the harbor. "Ooh, but Pop, we ain't just any children, remember? We're the future of justice! Right?"
The Captain narrowed, feeling a cold shiver down his spine at the gleam in his son's eyes. "This is not a game, Borsalino. These pirates are-"
"Monsters?" Sakazuki interrupted, his voice horribly calm. "Good. It's time they met some real monsters."
Chaos reigned the moment the ship belonging to the Crimson Scourge dropped anchor in the harbor. The pirates converged on the streets, with the enormous figure of 'Hellfire' Hank leading the charge. Laughter burst from the pirate captain across the harbor as his Logia fire Devil Fruit powers set buildings ablaze.
"Get the civilians to safety!" Captain Boromante charged into the thick of it, his sword flashing in the firelight. "I'll deal with Hank!"
Borsalino watched further as the carnage unfolded, not losing his grin for one heartbeat. "Ooh, Saka-chan, isn't it wonderful? This destruction. This injustice. Begging to be corrected."
Sakazuki nodded, his eyes mirroring the flames that consumed their home. "Let's show them what true justice looks like."
As Captain Boromante clashed with 'Hellfire' Hank, trading blows that shook the very foundations of Mariner's Haven, two small figures darted through the chaos. Borsalino moved like light itself, appearing and then disappearing in flashes that left pirates stumbling and confused. Sakazuki was a force of nature, his fists coated in magma that melted through weapons and flesh alike.
'"What the hell?!" Hank roared as his concentration was broken, for a second, from his duel with Boromante. "Since when do Marines use child soldiers?"
The pale face of Captain Boromante watched as his son and Sakazuki carved their way through the pirate ranks. "No. Boys, stop! This isn't-"
But his words were drowned by Borsalino's laughter and the screams of burning pirates.
Unsurprisingly, that Battle was soon to be shifted. The Crimson Scourge, despite their astonishing brutality, stood no chance against the unholy combination of Borsalino's speed and Sakazuki's blunt destructive power.
"Pop!" came the cheerful sound of Borsalino amidst all the carnage. "We are in good hands here. Why don't you show Captain Hank what a real Marine can do?"
Boromante stumbled, proud of his son's prowess, and horrified at the ruthlessness on display. But as Hank launched another fiery assault, he steeled himself and charged forward.
At last, it was almost anticlimactic. 'Hellfire' Hank lay defeated at Captain Boromante's feet, his crew either captured or scattered to the winds, and all was quiet. But as the dust settled and the fires smoldered, an eerie silence fell over Mariner's Haven.
Borsalino and Sakazuki stood dead center in the wreckage, their little forms casting long shadows as the sun fell. Captain Boromante approached them carefully, his face twisted with so many mixed emotions; it looked like it might split at the seams.
"Boys," he began, voice hoarse. "What you did today was."
"Justice," Sakazuki responded with such an air of firmness, his eyes still blazing with that intensity.
"Ooh, more than that, Saka-chan," drawled Borsalino, his grin ever wider. "It was absolute justice."
Nightfall had spread its cloak over the scarred ruins of Mariner's Haven. Captain Boromante gazed down at the two boys before him: one his son by blood, and the other swiftly becoming a son in spirit. He saw in them the future of the Marines—justice itself. Only for the first time, within the lengthened perspective of a long career, he glimpsed a flicker of fear at what that future might bring.
"C'mon," he finally said, turning toward home. "We have a lot to discuss."
Borsalino and Sakazuki fell in, their small forms silhouetted against the burning horizon. The age of absolute justice reared its head for its virgin, blood-slick steps, and the world would never be the same.
The aftermath of the Crimson Scourge's attack hung over Mariner's Haven like a pall. Alone in his study, Captain Boromante sat at his desk, his lined, leathered face filled with worry as he looked down at the two before him: Borsalino's ever-present grin seemed to mock the gravity of the situation at hand, while Sakazuki's eyes smoldered with barely contained fury.
"Boys," the Captain began, his voice heavy, "what went down yesterday… it wasn't right."
The smile, impossibly, grew wider as Borsalino's head tipped back impossibly. "Ooh? But Pop, we saved the day, didn't we? Isn't that what justice is all about?"
Behind those guileless orbs whirred a mind centuries older, more calculating. Borsalino Boromante was no mere 8-year-old prodigy; to Dependency, he was a man out of time and space, his mind transplanted into this young body with the puppet master Lex Luthor. The irony, he almost wanted to laugh, around how he found himself playing at being a child whilst carrying worlds in his head.
"It's not that simple, Borsalino," Captain Boromante sighed. "The level of violence you both displayed… it's just not normal for children your age. I'm worried about what this might be doing to you. To both of you."
Sakazuki stepped forward, the small frame radiating an intensity that belied his years. "With all due respect sir, we did what was necessary. The pirates were a threat and we neutralized that threat. Isn't that what the Marines stand for?"
Captain Boromante's frown deepened. "The Marines stand for justice, Sakazuki. But there's a fine line between justice and vengeance. I fear you boys might be straying too close to that line."
Borsalino's laugh echoed unnaturally in the small room. "Oh, Pop, you worry too much! We're just eager to learn, to become the best Marines we can be. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
He fixed his gaze on his son's face, narrowed, for something—for some glimpse of the innocent child slowly leaving him, maybe. But all he could see was that chilling smile and impassive eyes behind the everlasting sunglasses.
"I want you to grow up to be good men," he slowly went on. "Men who understand the weight of their actions, the responsibility that comes with power."
Sakazuki nodded seriously. "We understand, sir. We will be more careful in the future. Right, Borsalino?"
"Ooh, absolutely!" Borsalino chirped, his voice oozing sincerity that only an adult mind could conjure up that perfectly. "We will prove to be the most responsible little Marines you ever did see. No more gratuitous violence, cross our hearts!"
For a moment, Captain Boromante looked at the two boys before him, and his instinct battled to win over his will to trust them. He sighed at last. "Okay, boys. I believe both of you. But remember being a Marine isn't by strength alone; it also entails wisdom, compassion, and wisdom to show mercy."
And as though on cue, a Marine came tumbling through the open doors of the study. His face was bone white, and he wore the expression of a man panicked. "Captain! It's 'Hellfire' Hank! He's escaped!"
The room fell into instant silence as the weight of the new threat sank in over them like a shroud. Captain Boromante leapt to his feet, barking orders as he rushed out the door.
Amidst the chaos, Borsalino now wore a grin more predatory than ever as he turned to Sakazuki. "Ooh, Saka-chan, looks like our little game's not through yet. Now, what do you say we go hunting?"
Sakazuki's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Any time."
Night came down on Mariner's Haven, and the whispers just started to rise up once more about 'Hellfire' Hank and his escape. For all his scurvy renown, that pirate captain had vanished into thin air. Only a cryptic warning in his own bloody hand, sprawled across his cell wall—marking his passage: "The fire rises. Be ready."
Two small figures slipped away from the Boromante household into the night. Of a madman's pace was Borsalino's mind—plans within plans unfolding.
"Nee, Saka-chan," he drawled as they made their way towards the docks, "what do you say we make things a little more. interesting?"
Sakazuki's answer was a grim smile that promised retribution. "I'm listening."
As the stars blinked into existence above them, an anticipatory shudder ran through Borsalino. The game was finally afoot, and he was supposed to be in full control.
The night was but young, and the hunt was on.
The heavy night smelled strongly of scorching wood and flesh. Streams of water trickled down the eyes of Captain Boromante as the acrid smoke, from 'Hellfire' Hank's smoldering fingertips, consumed the old, wooden fibers throughout the long-abandoned warehouse. The blaze was entrapping.
"Well, well, Captain," rasped Hank, a cruel smile tugging at his already scarred features. "Looks like the tables of fate have indeed turned, eh? None of your precious little monsters to come save you now."
Boromante coughed up blood, the look in his eyes defiant. "They ain't monsters, Hank. They're kids. And they're more man than you'll ever be."
Hank laughed and the sound bounced off the grimy walls. "Kids? Oh, Captain. You really have no idea what you're dealing with, do you?"
A few towns over, Borsalino jerked his head up, grin faltering for the first time in years. Something was wrong. He could feel it in the air, a power, a disturbance in the very fabric of the world he had come to manipulate.
"Saka-chan, we need to move. Now."
Sakazuki appeared at his side, eyes already blazing with anticipation. "What is it?"
"Pop's in trouble. I can feel it." Calculations and chances ran through his mind behind eyes that seemed all too young. "Hellfire's made his move."
Street lamps whipped past in a blur as they sprinted through the Mariner's Haven night, the whispers of panic and bitter acrid scent of smoke on the wind. Rounding a corner, Borsalino skidded to a stop, his blood turning to ice in his veins.
There, underneath the flickering street lamps, was a body—charred beyond identification, except for a single lock of golden hair.
"Solara," Sakazuki breathed, voice strung taut with shock.
Borsalino knelt beside the body, and his mind flashed back to expressions of mirth shared silently, clichéd stolen glances, a sweetness that had also cut straight through to his jaded adult awareness: Solara, the baker's daughter, never looking at him with avarice or suspicion, never really wanting anything out of this cruel sham of a game.
For an instant, for a moment, his slow mask fell. Rage, cold and awful, twisted Borsalino's features into something nonhuman. His hand shook as he reached to shut Solara's still-open, terror-filled eyes.
"Borsalino," Sakazuki's voice cut through the haze of fury. "We need to keep moving. Your father—"
"Yeah," Borsalino interrupted, standing. The smile was back in place, but now it held an edge that would have chilled even the bravest soul. "Yes, we mustn't keep Pop waiting, ne? After all, we have so much to discuss with our dear friend Hank."
As they kept on running on the darkened streets, Borsalino's mind was in an absolute whirl. Plans that he'd put so carefully together, the long-game strategy he'd been playing since coming into this world, it all threatened to unravel in the wake of this sudden, unforeseen loss.
"Saka-chan," he said, voice low and controlled. "When we find Hank, I want you to promise me something."
Sakazuki glanced at him, curiosity warring for a moment with the ever-present anger in his eyes.
"What?"
"No matter what happens, no matter what you see or hear, you follow my lead. Can you do that?"
For a moment, Sakazuki hesitated. Something was different about his friend, and he felt it, even at that tender age. But then he nodded, resolute. "Always."
That put a fuller grin on Borsalino, which was an ugly thing in the shifting flicker of shadows. "Good. Because tonight, Saka-chan, we're going to teach Hellfire Hank the real meaning of justice."
Approaching the warehouse district, with the sounds of struggle ringing through the air, Borsalino felt the familiar thrill of anticipation stir in his veins. The game had changed; the stakes were higher than he had imagined. But that only made it more exciting.
Poor Hank, he thought, as his mind already began to work out a thousand exquisite torments. You have no idea what inferno you have just stepped into.
Here the night lay before them, pregnant with possibility and violence.
The sprawling shadow of the warehouse loomed before them against the star-sprinkled sky. Borsalino and Sakazuki crouched in the darkness, their young bodies racked by a mixture of anticipation and dread.
Inside they could hear the struggle, muffled but plainly continuing, punctuated by Hellfire Hank's grating guffaws.
"Remember, Saka-chan," Borsalino was muttering very lowly now, the grin gone from his face, replaced by a thin, taut line. "We can't rush in. One wrong move, an' Pop's—"
"I know," Sakazuki growled, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles showed white. "But how long do we wait?"
Before Borsalino could answer, Hank's voice suddenly boomed out, as if he'd been waiting for this very moment. "Come on in, boys! I know you're out there. Let's have a little chat, shall we?"
Swallowing hard, the two youths entered the warehouse. The scene before them was similar to something from a nightmare. Captain Boromante was hung out in the middle from the rafters, a bloody, battered mass. Hank stood by him, one flaming hand resting in the air beside the Captain's face.
"Ah, here they are!" Hank cackled, "The little monsters themselves. So tell me, boys, what's it like to be the heroes of Mariner's Haven?"
Borsalino's mind raced as he realized he was not fast enough yet to strike Hank down before the pirate could do damage to his father. Worse, he could sense the crackling energy of Haki surrounding Hank—a power that would outmatch his for now.
"Let him go, Hank," Borsalino said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "This is between us now."
Hank's face split into an awful grin that pulled his scarred face out of shape. "Ah, but you're wrong, light. This? This is about potential. Destiny."
Hank began to pace, his eyes never leaving the boys. "You see, I've been seen you two. The things you've done, the power you possess—it's extraordinary. But, sandbagged, tethered, hog-tied by grandmothers' stories of doing good."
Captain Boromante struggled weakly against his bonds. "Don't… listen to him… boys."
"Quiet, old man," Hank snarled, but he was already turning back to Borsalino and Sakazuki. "Think about it. With your powers, your intellect—you could reshape this world. No more corrupt governments, no more pirate scum. Just pure, unadulterated order."
Borsalino felt Sakazuki go very still beside him. His friend was listening, maybe, too closely.
"But there's one thing holding you back," Hank continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "One last tie to your old, weak selves." With a sudden, violent motion, Hank's flaming hand plunged into Captain Boromante's chest.
Time seemed to slow. Borsalino watched—his adult mind screaming in horror behind the façade of a child's face—as his father's eyes widened in shock, in pain. Captain Boromante's mouth opened, but no sound came out—merely a tiny trickle of blood.
"Pop!" Sakazuki's anguished cry cut through the warehouse like a knife.
Hank withdrew his hand, letting Captain Boromante's lifeless body swing gently from the rafters. "There," he said, almost gently. "Now you're free. Free to become what you were always meant to be."
For a moment, silence reigned. Then, with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the warehouse, Sakazuki exploded into action. His body transformed, magma flowing from his skin as he launched himself at Hank.
Borsalino then just stood paralyzed at that mix of emotions; grief, rage, and another element, a cold calculating fury that could consume him whole. His thoughts were running amok while Sakazuki wrestled Hank, filling their room with steam and the smell of burnt flesh, something in Borsalino seemed to snap there.
His grin sprang back, wider and more terrible than before. Light began to gather around him, pulsating with an intensity that drove the shadows scurrying towards the corners of the warehouse.
"Ooh, Hank-san," he called out, his voice dripping in a sweetness that belied the horror about to come. "I reckon it's the only time we showed you what our real potential is."
The warehouse turned into an arc furnace right alongside the small figure of Borsalino, jittering with unrestrained power. The battle that would come to pass speaks whispers of itself; it is a tale of two children who, one terrible night, become the monsters they had always been fated to be.
The warehouse became a heel pit of light and magma, air so thick with smoke and the acridly salty smell of burning flesh. Borsalino and Sakazuki fought with a fury that belied their times being young, small bodies pushed to the very limits of endurance. "Come on, boys!" taunted Hank, blocking Sakazuki's magma fist with a Haki-infused arm. "Is this all the potential you have? Show me what you're really capable of!"
Borsalino's chest heaved with the discharge of yet another barrage of light beams. "Ooh, Hank-san," he panted, his ever-present grin now a rictus of pain and determination. "You may want to be careful what you wish for."
Each time he fired an assault, Hank would be returning with a counter. One step ahead, he moved with this fluid grace, instinct honed by endless years of combat experience.
"You see?" Hank laughed, ducking under Sakazuki's berserker swing. "THIS is power. This is what you could become!"
Time lost all meaning in the inferno of their battle, as hours passed—or perhaps it was only minutes. Borsalino felt his strength waning with each moment that passed, his light growing dimmer. Beside him, Sakazuki's magma had cooled and cracked, revealing the child beyond.
"I have to admit." painted Hank, who was barely out of breath, "You've impressed me, but you're still not there yet. You need more."
Faster still, even beyond what had surprised Borsalino, Hank closed the distance. His wreathed fist in flames and Haki connected with Sakazuki's jaw. The boy flew across the warehouse, crashing into a stack of crates with a sickening crunch.
"Saka-chan!" Borsalino cried, his mask of calm cracking.
Turning to Hank, light began gathering around his fists. "You'll pay for that, Hank-san."
But he was already moving, a vicious knee to the stomach causing all the breath to leave Borsalino's lungs. He gasped for breath as Hank took him by the throat and hoisted him off the ground.
"Hmm," Hank mused, face millimeters away from Borsalino, half-scarred, the other half gleaming dully, "I think I miscalculated. You might not be the right guy to handle this much power, after all. Maybe. I should just put an end to this here and now."
Borsalino weakly struggled, the edges of his vision darkening. He felt the heat from that free hand of Hank's, the killing blow almost certainly about to come. At that moment, Borsalino felt something he hadn't experienced in a very long time—fear.
"Ready to say those final words, light-headed?" Hank jeered.
Borsalino gave a weak smile. "Just one moment. Hank-san. Duck."
Confusion flitted over Hank's face, but an instant later, a massive fist exploded from his chest in a spray of blood and bone.
"Looks like I made it just in time," Garp growled, his knuckles dripping with Hank's blood. "You boys alright?"
Borsalino couldn't answer. The world sped up around him, darkness lapping at his vision from the edges of his eyes. And then, there was Sakazuki, bloody and battered, crawling towards him.
"Borsalino." Sakazuki rasped.
Borsalino was oddly relieved to see the world fade to black, though he was tired beyond belief. His was a searing quest for retribution, coupled with the will he longed for in order never to feel so impotent again.
After that terrible night, as Mariner's Haven smoldered and two young boys lay broken in body yet not in spirit, a seed was planted, a seed that would later bloom into something very horrible indeed, far greater than anything Hellfire Hank could have dreamt up.
Author's Notes: Happy Late 4th of July. If you guys want to show support and not one day see this story dropped. Support me on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
The Dawn of Yellow Light
It had been eleven long years since that fateful night in Mariner's Haven. Now nineteen, Borsalino Boromante had hardened into a seasoned Marine Captain, his immense, hulking frame silhouetted against a setting sun as he stood atop the training grounds of Marineford. Beside him, Vice Admiral Garp watched with a mix of pride and concern as Sakazuki—now a Commodore—cut loose with a torrent of magma against a reinforced training dummy.
"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled, grin firmly in place. "You might want to dial it back a notch. We wouldn't want to melt the entire island, now would we?"
Sakazuki's response was a grunt, focus unwavering as he continued his assault. Garp sighed, shaking his head.
"You two have come a long way," the old warrior mused. "But sometimes I wonder if I've created monsters instead of Marines."
Borsalino turned to his mentor; his ever-present smile took on a razor-sharp edge. "Now, now, Garp-san. Monsters are exactly what this world needs to maintain order, wouldn't you agree?"
With the sun dipping below the horizon, Borsalino retired to his quarters. The room was sparse except for a single photograph placed on the nightstand—a smiling young girl whose hair was as golden as sunlight. Solara. His first friend and what could've been his future love was merely another casualty of that horrific night.
"Ooh, Solara-chan," Borsalino said with a murmur, his fingers tracing the outline of the frame. "If only you could see us now."
A knock at the door broke into his reverie. "Enter," he called out, his voice slipping immediately back into its normal lazy drawl.
Sakazuki stepped in, his face set in its perpetual scowl. "Borsalino," he growled. "We need to talk."
Borsalino lifted an eyebrow. "About what, Saka-chan? Your inability to smile? I keep telling you, it's not that hard. Just lift the corners of your mouth, like this." He demonstrated, his grin widening to almost impossible proportions.
Sakazuki's scowl deepened. "This isn't a joke. Your power. it's growing too quickly. The others are starting to notice. To fear."
The grin never wavered from Borsalino's face, but something cold and calculating flickered in his eyes. "Ooh? And what exactly are they afraid of, Saka-chan? That I've mastered Haki faster than anyone in Marine history? That I can use Conqueror's Haki with a thought?"
To drive the point further home, he released a pulse of Conqueror's Haki that was subtle enough not to alert anyone outside the room but strong enough to make Sakazuki stumble.
"Or maybe," Borsalino continued, his voice dipping down to a whisper, "they are afraid of this." He raised his hand, and the air about it seemed to ripple like light bent, wrenched, curved in impossible patterns as through his light powers simulated his Damage Data Insight
Sakazuki's eyes widened. "What. What is that?"
Borsalino grinned, his smile going a little feral. "Just a little something I managed to pick up. Call it 'Damage Data Insight.' It lets me analyze and predict damage patterns with near-perfect ease. Combine that with my… shall we say, improved mental faculties, and well…" He allowed the rest of the implication to dangle and neglected to mention that he no longer felt any pain, as this replaced his pain receptors.
Sakazuki's head was shaking, his eyes a mix of awe and fear. "Borsalino. What are we becoming?"
A momentary lapse of control and Sakazuki saw hidden behind the mask: hurt, anger burning as brightly as ever. "What we were always meant to be, Saka-chan. Instruments of absolute justice. The monsters who will reshape this world."
As he turned his back on him and turned away, the attention of Borsalino worriedly turned again into the picture of Solara. "Soon," he choked out, barely a whisper. "Someday, we shall have a world where no one else needs to go through the same things that we have. No matter what it takes.".
Before the full-length mirror in his quarters, Borsalino Boromante stood, a wry smile playing upon his lips. The gangly, awkward youth with the perpetual squint was gone, in his place a man of striking beauty, his features chiseled and refined, his eyes bright with an otherworldly intelligence.
"Ooh, Rey-chan," he murmured to his reflection, "you've certainly made quite the difference, haven't you?"
It was through the Store System that he encountered when he was dead and was able to afford any new template with the Units he saved up, all with Rey Palpatine, also referred to as Rey Skywalker's abilities and experiences. The power brought a tint of physical change along which barely left him recognizable.
A knock at the door broke into his thoughts. "Enter," he called, his voice a lazy drawl that belied the sharp mind behind it.
Dr. Vegapunk, the Marines' chief scientific officer stepped into the room. The elderly scientist's eyes widened at the sight of Borsalino's new appearance. "Captain Boromante? Is that really you?"
Borsalino's smile broadened. "Flesh and blood, Doc. Or should I say, new flesh? Now, shall we discuss those improvements to the Pacifista project?"
The scientific wing of Marineford bustled with activity as the strutting figure that was Borsalino turned heads at every step. Scientists and technicians alike found themselves drawn to his magnetism that contrasted so greatly against the awkward young man before them.
Entering the main laboratory, half-filled with incomplete projects and experimental weaponry, Borsalino was washed through by both Rey's bond to the Force and his inner genius to see all sorts of patterns and possibilities where others saw chaos.
"Gentlemen," he addressed the assembled team, his voice carrying an authority that silenced all chatter. "I believe we've been thinking too small. Why settle for human-sized Pacifistas when we could create something… Grander?"
He approached a holographic display, his fingers dancing across the controls with inhuman speed and precision. The image shifted, morphing into a massive, mountain-sized weapon.
"Imagine," Borsalino went on, his eyes flashing with an enthusiasm that was at the same time both exhilarating and nightmarish. "A mobile command center. A battle station with the power to destroy whole islands at a single blast. We could call it… the Death Star."
The room erupted into gasps and murmurs. Dr. Vegapunk stepped out ahead, his face suddenly bloodless. "Captain Boromante, what you're saying here. It's something so beyond anything we have ever tried. Resources required, the ethics involved."
Borsalino smiled never flinching as he did so at the scientist. "Ooh, Doc, don't you see? This is how we bring absolute justice into the world. No more chasing pirates across seas and whatnot. No more prolonged battles. Just swift, decisive action."
By the afternoon, Borsalino's presence had swept through the scientific branch like wildfire. Ideas now developed into projects revolutionized old ones, enhanced by Rey's memories of advanced technology from another galaxy.
But with every hour that passed, something seemed to grow in the shadows behind his eyes. The playful drawl became tinged with something colder, more calculating.
It was late, the vast majority of the staff retired for the night, when Borsalino stood alone in the lab, staring into the holographic plans for his Death Star.
"You know," a gravelly voice came from behind him, "power like that tends to corrupt."
He turned to find Vice Admiral Garp standing in the doorway.
"Ooh, Garp-san," Borsalino breathed, his laughter still light, though his voice was silk, his eyes hard like crystal that could shatter and scatter into a thousand pieces. "Corruption implies a fall from grace. But what if this is exactly what I was meant to become?"
Garp took a step forward; his massive frame somehow managing to cast a shadow over the younger man. "Borsalino, my boy, I've watched you grow. Seen the pain you've carried. But this path you're on. it's dangerous."
Something in his eyes riffled, like the boy he once was, a scared, angry kid, then was gone, replaced by a cold calculation that belied a man who had tasted true power.
"Dangerous?" Borsalino laughed, the sound holding little real amusement. "No, Garp-san. What's dangerous is a world where pirates run free, where innocent people suffer as I once did. What I'm creating here. it's the key to true peace."
As Garp left, the weight of the foreboding sense in his stomach, Borsalino turned back to the hologram. His handsome features were illuminated by the blue glow, casting eerie shadows across his face.
"Soon," he whispered. "Soon, the world shall know the might of the light."
The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the bloodstained deck of the pirate ship. Marine Captain Borsalino Boromante stood amidst the carnage, his normally lazy grin replaced with a look of cold satisfaction.
"Ooh, Saka-chan," he called out, his voice carrying across the silent vessel. "What's your count for today?"
Commodore Sakazuki came from below deck, his fists still smoking from the heat of magma-based attacks. "Seventeen," he growled, his eyes scanning the bodies strewn about. "You?"
Borsalino's smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Nineteen. Looks like I win again, ne?"
As they made their way back to their Marine vessel, the two officers continued with their macabre tally. It had become a ritual for them—counting lives snuffed out in the name of justice.
"You know," Borsalino drawled, leaning against the railing of the ship, "I'm starting to think we need to make this more interesting. I mean, what's a simple body count, anyway?"
Sakazuki raised an eyebrow, scowl deepening. "What did you have in mind?"
"Oh, I don't know," Borsalino mused, his fingers tracing patterns of light in the air. "Perhaps we could start grading on style? Efficiency? The look of terror in their eyes as the light fades?"
For a moment, something like concern flickered across Sakazuki's face. "Borsalino. don't you think we're taking this too far?"
Word of their exploits was like wildfire throughout the New World. Pirates spoke in hushed whispers of the two Marine officers who brought nothing but destruction and fear.
"Did ya hear?" a grizzled pirate captain muttered to his first mate. "They say there's a Marine who can move at the speed of light. Leaves nothing but corpses in his wake."
"Aye," the first mate nodded, his voice quivering. "And this one's partner's worse yet. They say he can turn the sea itself to boiling lava."
Crammed around a table in a crummy tavern on some lawless island, a group of bounty hunters whispered among themselves.
"They're calling them Kizaru and Akainu now," one breathed, his eyes darting nervously to the door. "The Yellow Monkey and the Red Dog. Monsters, the both of them."
Back on Marineford, Borsalino stood before Fleet Admiral Sengoku, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" he drawled.
Sengoku's face was grave. "Borsalino… or should I say, Kizaru? Reports of your actions have been… concerning."
"Ooh?" Borsalino's eyebrow arched. "And here I thought you'd be pleased with our results. The pirate population is down by what, 30% in the areas we've patrolled?"
"At what cost?" Sengoku demanded. "The fear you're spreading. it's not just affecting pirates. Innocent civilians are terrified of the Marines now."
But the smile didn't leave Borsalino's face, though something cold and hard seemed to glitter in his eyes. "Isn't that the point, sir? Fear keeps people in line. Fear brings order."
Leaving Sengoku's office, Borsalino caught a glimpse of himself in one of the polished wall panels. The lazy, laid-back officer that was his habit & genetic condition to project to the world faded for an instant to reveal something else altogether. A creature shining with pure light and terror, its yellow eyes burning with an intensity wholly inhuman.
"Kizaru," he whispered, the name tongue-testing. "I rather like the sound of that."
As the sun on another day crested the horizon in the headquarters of the Marines, for Borsalino Boromante, now to the world Admiral Kizaru, it was anything but the end of the hunt. The game would go on, and the body count would rise. After all, what could one more demon be in a world of pirates and monsters?
Brine and gunpowder's acrid stench clung heavily to the night air as Admiral Borsalino Boromante, known to his fellow men as Kizaru, leaned against the railing of the Marine vessel. His eyes, against the façade of laziness of his half-lidded eyes, were sharp and focused on the horizon.
Next to him was another Admiral, pacing like a caged beast: Sakazuki, also known as Akainu.
"We should strike now," growled Sakazuki, his fists clenching and unclenching as wisps of steam rose from his skin. "The Rocks Pirates are right there, within our grasp. Why are we holding back?"
Borsalino's lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ooh, Saka-chan," he drawled his voice a contrast to the tension in the air. "Always so eager for the kill. But sometimes, the greatest justice comes from patience."
Sakazuki whirled on him, blazing eyes barely containing the fury within them. "Patience? While those pirates pillage and murder? What kind of justice is that, Borsalino?"
The darkness, the ancient evil, flickered there like a flare for a moment in Kizaru's gaze. He straightened, all pretense of laziness gone. "The kind of justice that shapes worlds, Sakazuki. The kind that has events set in motion echoing through the generations."
He spread his hand out toward the far-off island where the Rocks Pirates were said to assemble. "Those pirates. they're a whole lot more important than you suspect. To our concept of Absolute Justice."
Sanazuki scowled deeper. "What are you talking about? How can leaving them be considered justice at all?"
Borsalino leaned uncomfortably close, lowering his voice to a little more than a whisper that sounded as though it were riding on the wind itself. "What if I told you, Saka-chan, that those pirates are the key to something greater? That their actions now will set in motion a future that'll rock our world down to its very pillars?"
He stopped for a bit, letting the words sink in. " The Rocks Pirates aren't another crew. They're the spark that will set everything into motion. And we... well, we're the ones who will guarantee that the spark doesn't go out before it has a chance to blaze through the world."
Sakazuki's eyes widened as confusion mixed with dawning realization crossed his face. "You're talking about... manipulating events? Playing with people's lives as if they were pieces on a chessboard?"
Borsalino smiled, sharp as a knife. "Ooh, now you're getting it. The point of justice isn't just to correct the guilty. It's about making the world the way it ought to be."
The night wore on, Borsalino and Sakazuki standing in silence as they gazed across at flickering dots of light in the Rocks Pirates encampment. Sakazuki broke the stillness, his voice in a tone he rarely used.
"How do you know all this, Borsalino? What aren't you telling me?"
Borsalino turned his gaze to his companion, best friend, blazing with light that was more than earthly. "Saka-chan, there are things in this world beyond our acquaintance. Forces at work which have shaped events since long before we were born. I have seen things. Glimpses through the veil."
He placed a hand on Sakazuki's shoulder, and the touch was surprisingly gentle. "Trust me when I say letting the Rocks Pirates play their part now will bring a time of justice—a time where pirates are hit with a judgment that they can't even imagine."
Finally, the day broke—the first sunshine of the morning stretching across the sea—to the front of which Borsalino and Sakazuki were still standing as their ship set off. In the fading distance was the silent island on which the Rocks Pirates were gathered, a testament to the choices made in the night.
"Remember this day, Saka-chan," Kizaru said, his voice weighty for a man who was otherwise so carefree. "Years from now, when the world's in an uproar and it seems like the bad guys are winning, remember that we saw it coming. And we did nothing at all to stop it, because sometimes… justice will sometimes need evils which are 'had' to complete its path."
Sakazuki nodded, finally understanding. As the days sailed by, leaving the Rocks Pirates to their appointed place in history, neither man would ever be able to shake the feeling that they had managed to set the ball rolling on the events that would reset the world of One Piece for generations into the future.
Years later, Admirals Kizaru and Akainu would each often looked back on that night.
The tailor's shop was an island of peace amidst the busy streets of Marineford. In front of a tri-fold mirror, Admiral Borsalino Boromante—the one known to the world as Kizaru—waited patiently while the old tailor fussed with the hem of his new suit. Next to him stood Admiral Sakazuki, Akainu to all his acquaintances, which, to him, meant both friends and foes—a man scowling at his reflection.
"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled, a lazy smile playing across his youthful face. "Why so serious? This is supposed to be fun, ne?"
Sakazuki's scowl deepened if such a thing were possible. That was— "Fun? We're Admirals, Borsalino. Everything we do should reflect the gravity of our position."
Borsalino coughed and ran a hand down the lapel of his new three-piece suit, a vibrant yellow that seemed to catch and hold the light. "And who says we can't look good while doing it?" He adjusted the matching yellow tie around his neck, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Besides, I think this color suits me. Don't you agree, Saka-chan?"
The tailor, withered and knotted with age at his fingers from decades of stitching, stepped back to admire his handiwork. "It's certainly unique, Admiral Kizaru. Not many would be bold enough to wear such a vibrant color."
"That's me," Borsalino chuckled. "Bold to a fault."
As the tailor moved to make final adjustments on Sakazuki's red suit just like his original counterpart, Kizaru's mind wandered. He thought of how quickly they rose through ranks, how easily they claimed the title of Admiral. It had been almost too easy, hadn't it?
"Saka-chan," he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Have you ever wondered why they made us Admirals so young?"
His eyes met Sakazuki's in the mirror. "Well, of course we are. No one else has our zeal for Absolute Justice."
Kizaru's grin twisted to something sarcastic instead. "Is it? Or is it because we're malleable? Young enough to be shaped into what they need?"
The tailor felt the atmosphere change and ebbed backward, excusing himself to get more pins. In the ensuing quiet, Kizaru's words hung heavy in the air.
"What are you saying, Borsalino?" Sakazuki turned toward his fellow Admiral.
Kizaru's eyes, always half-lidded in a pose of affected boredom, were now razor-sharp. "I'm saying, Saka-chan, that maybe the rank of Admiral isn't what we thought it was. It's not about skill, not really. It's about power. Personal power."
He gestured at their reflections, two young men dressed in the trappings of authority. "Look at us. Barely out of our teens, and we're supposed to be the most powerful men in the Marines. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
Sakazuki's brow furrowed. "We earned our positions through hard work and dedication."
"Did we?" Kizaru responded, "Or were we chosen because we're young enough to be formed into shape? Into the perfect tools for another person's agenda?" The silence was deafening. Kizaru returned to the mirror, adjusting his tie with his fingers shaking ever so slightly.
"Most Marines," he went on, his voice low, "they pace themselves. They climb the ranks slow, learning, growing. By the time they reach Admiral, they're old men, set in their ways. But us? We've been fast-tracked. Trained specifically to do this."
Sakazuki's face was a mask of confusion and dawning realization. "But why?"
Kizaru's smile was the most bitter thing, far from his lazy grin. "Because, Saka-chan, we're easier to control this way. Young, impressionable, full of fire and ideals about justice. The perfect pawns in someone else's game."
As the tailor returned, pins in hand, the two Admirals fell silent. Though the weight of Kizaru's words hung between them, a truth too heavy to ignore.
Kizaru adjusted his yellow jacket one last time and finally met his eyes in the mirror. There stood a man who now knew that, if he ever were to attain justice, it would come at a terrible price. The reflection didn't show a man lost in his youth and carefree when entering the Marines with dreams of justice.
"Well, Saka-chan," he said, his voice now light, careless, though his eyes remained sharp. "Shall we go show the world what the youngest Admirals in Marine history look like?"
Coming out of the tailor's shop in new suits, there was something that Kizaru just couldn't shake off—that they had crossed a threshold. The game altered; the stakes were now higher than ever. But then, as he studied his yellow tie with a smirk, maybe he always liked upping the challenge.
Author's Notes: There's not much to say here, other then I hope you guys are all having a good day. Once again, support on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled, grin firmly in place. "You might want to dial it back a notch. We wouldn't want to melt the entire island, now would we?"
Sakazuki's response was a grunt, focus unwavering as he continued his assault. Garp sighed, shaking his head.
"You two have come a long way," the old warrior mused. "But sometimes I wonder if I've created monsters instead of Marines."
Borsalino turned to his mentor; his ever-present smile took on a razor-sharp edge. "Now, now, Garp-san. Monsters are exactly what this world needs to maintain order, wouldn't you agree?"
With the sun dipping below the horizon, Borsalino retired to his quarters. The room was sparse except for a single photograph placed on the nightstand—a smiling young girl whose hair was as golden as sunlight. Solara. His first friend and what could've been his future love was merely another casualty of that horrific night.
"Ooh, Solara-chan," Borsalino said with a murmur, his fingers tracing the outline of the frame. "If only you could see us now."
A knock at the door broke into his reverie. "Enter," he called out, his voice slipping immediately back into its normal lazy drawl.
Sakazuki stepped in, his face set in its perpetual scowl. "Borsalino," he growled. "We need to talk."
Borsalino lifted an eyebrow. "About what, Saka-chan? Your inability to smile? I keep telling you, it's not that hard. Just lift the corners of your mouth, like this." He demonstrated, his grin widening to almost impossible proportions.
Sakazuki's scowl deepened. "This isn't a joke. Your power. it's growing too quickly. The others are starting to notice. To fear."
The grin never wavered from Borsalino's face, but something cold and calculating flickered in his eyes. "Ooh? And what exactly are they afraid of, Saka-chan? That I've mastered Haki faster than anyone in Marine history? That I can use Conqueror's Haki with a thought?"
To drive the point further home, he released a pulse of Conqueror's Haki that was subtle enough not to alert anyone outside the room but strong enough to make Sakazuki stumble.
"Or maybe," Borsalino continued, his voice dipping down to a whisper, "they are afraid of this." He raised his hand, and the air about it seemed to ripple like light bent, wrenched, curved in impossible patterns as through his light powers simulated his Damage Data Insight
Sakazuki's eyes widened. "What. What is that?"
Borsalino grinned, his smile going a little feral. "Just a little something I managed to pick up. Call it 'Damage Data Insight.' It lets me analyze and predict damage patterns with near-perfect ease. Combine that with my… shall we say, improved mental faculties, and well…" He allowed the rest of the implication to dangle and neglected to mention that he no longer felt any pain, as this replaced his pain receptors.
Sakazuki's head was shaking, his eyes a mix of awe and fear. "Borsalino. What are we becoming?"
A momentary lapse of control and Sakazuki saw hidden behind the mask: hurt, anger burning as brightly as ever. "What we were always meant to be, Saka-chan. Instruments of absolute justice. The monsters who will reshape this world."
As he turned his back on him and turned away, the attention of Borsalino worriedly turned again into the picture of Solara. "Soon," he choked out, barely a whisper. "Someday, we shall have a world where no one else needs to go through the same things that we have. No matter what it takes.".
Before the full-length mirror in his quarters, Borsalino Boromante stood, a wry smile playing upon his lips. The gangly, awkward youth with the perpetual squint was gone, in his place a man of striking beauty, his features chiseled and refined, his eyes bright with an otherworldly intelligence.
"Ooh, Rey-chan," he murmured to his reflection, "you've certainly made quite the difference, haven't you?"
It was through the Store System that he encountered when he was dead and was able to afford any new template with the Units he saved up, all with Rey Palpatine, also referred to as Rey Skywalker's abilities and experiences. The power brought a tint of physical change along which barely left him recognizable.
A knock at the door broke into his thoughts. "Enter," he called, his voice a lazy drawl that belied the sharp mind behind it.
Dr. Vegapunk, the Marines' chief scientific officer stepped into the room. The elderly scientist's eyes widened at the sight of Borsalino's new appearance. "Captain Boromante? Is that really you?"
Borsalino's smile broadened. "Flesh and blood, Doc. Or should I say, new flesh? Now, shall we discuss those improvements to the Pacifista project?"
The scientific wing of Marineford bustled with activity as the strutting figure that was Borsalino turned heads at every step. Scientists and technicians alike found themselves drawn to his magnetism that contrasted so greatly against the awkward young man before them.
Entering the main laboratory, half-filled with incomplete projects and experimental weaponry, Borsalino was washed through by both Rey's bond to the Force and his inner genius to see all sorts of patterns and possibilities where others saw chaos.
"Gentlemen," he addressed the assembled team, his voice carrying an authority that silenced all chatter. "I believe we've been thinking too small. Why settle for human-sized Pacifistas when we could create something… Grander?"
He approached a holographic display, his fingers dancing across the controls with inhuman speed and precision. The image shifted, morphing into a massive, mountain-sized weapon.
"Imagine," Borsalino went on, his eyes flashing with an enthusiasm that was at the same time both exhilarating and nightmarish. "A mobile command center. A battle station with the power to destroy whole islands at a single blast. We could call it… the Death Star."
The room erupted into gasps and murmurs. Dr. Vegapunk stepped out ahead, his face suddenly bloodless. "Captain Boromante, what you're saying here. It's something so beyond anything we have ever tried. Resources required, the ethics involved."
Borsalino smiled never flinching as he did so at the scientist. "Ooh, Doc, don't you see? This is how we bring absolute justice into the world. No more chasing pirates across seas and whatnot. No more prolonged battles. Just swift, decisive action."
By the afternoon, Borsalino's presence had swept through the scientific branch like wildfire. Ideas now developed into projects revolutionized old ones, enhanced by Rey's memories of advanced technology from another galaxy.
But with every hour that passed, something seemed to grow in the shadows behind his eyes. The playful drawl became tinged with something colder, more calculating.
It was late, the vast majority of the staff retired for the night, when Borsalino stood alone in the lab, staring into the holographic plans for his Death Star.
"You know," a gravelly voice came from behind him, "power like that tends to corrupt."
He turned to find Vice Admiral Garp standing in the doorway.
"Ooh, Garp-san," Borsalino breathed, his laughter still light, though his voice was silk, his eyes hard like crystal that could shatter and scatter into a thousand pieces. "Corruption implies a fall from grace. But what if this is exactly what I was meant to become?"
Garp took a step forward; his massive frame somehow managing to cast a shadow over the younger man. "Borsalino, my boy, I've watched you grow. Seen the pain you've carried. But this path you're on. it's dangerous."
Something in his eyes riffled, like the boy he once was, a scared, angry kid, then was gone, replaced by a cold calculation that belied a man who had tasted true power.
"Dangerous?" Borsalino laughed, the sound holding little real amusement. "No, Garp-san. What's dangerous is a world where pirates run free, where innocent people suffer as I once did. What I'm creating here. it's the key to true peace."
As Garp left, the weight of the foreboding sense in his stomach, Borsalino turned back to the hologram. His handsome features were illuminated by the blue glow, casting eerie shadows across his face.
"Soon," he whispered. "Soon, the world shall know the might of the light."
The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the bloodstained deck of the pirate ship. Marine Captain Borsalino Boromante stood amidst the carnage, his normally lazy grin replaced with a look of cold satisfaction.
"Ooh, Saka-chan," he called out, his voice carrying across the silent vessel. "What's your count for today?"
Commodore Sakazuki came from below deck, his fists still smoking from the heat of magma-based attacks. "Seventeen," he growled, his eyes scanning the bodies strewn about. "You?"
Borsalino's smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Nineteen. Looks like I win again, ne?"
As they made their way back to their Marine vessel, the two officers continued with their macabre tally. It had become a ritual for them—counting lives snuffed out in the name of justice.
"You know," Borsalino drawled, leaning against the railing of the ship, "I'm starting to think we need to make this more interesting. I mean, what's a simple body count, anyway?"
Sakazuki raised an eyebrow, scowl deepening. "What did you have in mind?"
"Oh, I don't know," Borsalino mused, his fingers tracing patterns of light in the air. "Perhaps we could start grading on style? Efficiency? The look of terror in their eyes as the light fades?"
For a moment, something like concern flickered across Sakazuki's face. "Borsalino. don't you think we're taking this too far?"
Word of their exploits was like wildfire throughout the New World. Pirates spoke in hushed whispers of the two Marine officers who brought nothing but destruction and fear.
"Did ya hear?" a grizzled pirate captain muttered to his first mate. "They say there's a Marine who can move at the speed of light. Leaves nothing but corpses in his wake."
"Aye," the first mate nodded, his voice quivering. "And this one's partner's worse yet. They say he can turn the sea itself to boiling lava."
Crammed around a table in a crummy tavern on some lawless island, a group of bounty hunters whispered among themselves.
"They're calling them Kizaru and Akainu now," one breathed, his eyes darting nervously to the door. "The Yellow Monkey and the Red Dog. Monsters, the both of them."
Back on Marineford, Borsalino stood before Fleet Admiral Sengoku, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" he drawled.
Sengoku's face was grave. "Borsalino… or should I say, Kizaru? Reports of your actions have been… concerning."
"Ooh?" Borsalino's eyebrow arched. "And here I thought you'd be pleased with our results. The pirate population is down by what, 30% in the areas we've patrolled?"
"At what cost?" Sengoku demanded. "The fear you're spreading. it's not just affecting pirates. Innocent civilians are terrified of the Marines now."
But the smile didn't leave Borsalino's face, though something cold and hard seemed to glitter in his eyes. "Isn't that the point, sir? Fear keeps people in line. Fear brings order."
Leaving Sengoku's office, Borsalino caught a glimpse of himself in one of the polished wall panels. The lazy, laid-back officer that was his habit & genetic condition to project to the world faded for an instant to reveal something else altogether. A creature shining with pure light and terror, its yellow eyes burning with an intensity wholly inhuman.
"Kizaru," he whispered, the name tongue-testing. "I rather like the sound of that."
As the sun on another day crested the horizon in the headquarters of the Marines, for Borsalino Boromante, now to the world Admiral Kizaru, it was anything but the end of the hunt. The game would go on, and the body count would rise. After all, what could one more demon be in a world of pirates and monsters?
Brine and gunpowder's acrid stench clung heavily to the night air as Admiral Borsalino Boromante, known to his fellow men as Kizaru, leaned against the railing of the Marine vessel. His eyes, against the façade of laziness of his half-lidded eyes, were sharp and focused on the horizon.
Next to him was another Admiral, pacing like a caged beast: Sakazuki, also known as Akainu.
"We should strike now," growled Sakazuki, his fists clenching and unclenching as wisps of steam rose from his skin. "The Rocks Pirates are right there, within our grasp. Why are we holding back?"
Borsalino's lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ooh, Saka-chan," he drawled his voice a contrast to the tension in the air. "Always so eager for the kill. But sometimes, the greatest justice comes from patience."
Sakazuki whirled on him, blazing eyes barely containing the fury within them. "Patience? While those pirates pillage and murder? What kind of justice is that, Borsalino?"
The darkness, the ancient evil, flickered there like a flare for a moment in Kizaru's gaze. He straightened, all pretense of laziness gone. "The kind of justice that shapes worlds, Sakazuki. The kind that has events set in motion echoing through the generations."
He spread his hand out toward the far-off island where the Rocks Pirates were said to assemble. "Those pirates. they're a whole lot more important than you suspect. To our concept of Absolute Justice."
Sanazuki scowled deeper. "What are you talking about? How can leaving them be considered justice at all?"
Borsalino leaned uncomfortably close, lowering his voice to a little more than a whisper that sounded as though it were riding on the wind itself. "What if I told you, Saka-chan, that those pirates are the key to something greater? That their actions now will set in motion a future that'll rock our world down to its very pillars?"
He stopped for a bit, letting the words sink in. " The Rocks Pirates aren't another crew. They're the spark that will set everything into motion. And we... well, we're the ones who will guarantee that the spark doesn't go out before it has a chance to blaze through the world."
Sakazuki's eyes widened as confusion mixed with dawning realization crossed his face. "You're talking about... manipulating events? Playing with people's lives as if they were pieces on a chessboard?"
Borsalino smiled, sharp as a knife. "Ooh, now you're getting it. The point of justice isn't just to correct the guilty. It's about making the world the way it ought to be."
The night wore on, Borsalino and Sakazuki standing in silence as they gazed across at flickering dots of light in the Rocks Pirates encampment. Sakazuki broke the stillness, his voice in a tone he rarely used.
"How do you know all this, Borsalino? What aren't you telling me?"
Borsalino turned his gaze to his companion, best friend, blazing with light that was more than earthly. "Saka-chan, there are things in this world beyond our acquaintance. Forces at work which have shaped events since long before we were born. I have seen things. Glimpses through the veil."
He placed a hand on Sakazuki's shoulder, and the touch was surprisingly gentle. "Trust me when I say letting the Rocks Pirates play their part now will bring a time of justice—a time where pirates are hit with a judgment that they can't even imagine."
Finally, the day broke—the first sunshine of the morning stretching across the sea—to the front of which Borsalino and Sakazuki were still standing as their ship set off. In the fading distance was the silent island on which the Rocks Pirates were gathered, a testament to the choices made in the night.
"Remember this day, Saka-chan," Kizaru said, his voice weighty for a man who was otherwise so carefree. "Years from now, when the world's in an uproar and it seems like the bad guys are winning, remember that we saw it coming. And we did nothing at all to stop it, because sometimes… justice will sometimes need evils which are 'had' to complete its path."
Sakazuki nodded, finally understanding. As the days sailed by, leaving the Rocks Pirates to their appointed place in history, neither man would ever be able to shake the feeling that they had managed to set the ball rolling on the events that would reset the world of One Piece for generations into the future.
Years later, Admirals Kizaru and Akainu would each often looked back on that night.
The tailor's shop was an island of peace amidst the busy streets of Marineford. In front of a tri-fold mirror, Admiral Borsalino Boromante—the one known to the world as Kizaru—waited patiently while the old tailor fussed with the hem of his new suit. Next to him stood Admiral Sakazuki, Akainu to all his acquaintances, which, to him, meant both friends and foes—a man scowling at his reflection.
"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled, a lazy smile playing across his youthful face. "Why so serious? This is supposed to be fun, ne?"
Sakazuki's scowl deepened if such a thing were possible. That was— "Fun? We're Admirals, Borsalino. Everything we do should reflect the gravity of our position."
Borsalino coughed and ran a hand down the lapel of his new three-piece suit, a vibrant yellow that seemed to catch and hold the light. "And who says we can't look good while doing it?" He adjusted the matching yellow tie around his neck, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Besides, I think this color suits me. Don't you agree, Saka-chan?"
The tailor, withered and knotted with age at his fingers from decades of stitching, stepped back to admire his handiwork. "It's certainly unique, Admiral Kizaru. Not many would be bold enough to wear such a vibrant color."
"That's me," Borsalino chuckled. "Bold to a fault."
As the tailor moved to make final adjustments on Sakazuki's red suit just like his original counterpart, Kizaru's mind wandered. He thought of how quickly they rose through ranks, how easily they claimed the title of Admiral. It had been almost too easy, hadn't it?
"Saka-chan," he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Have you ever wondered why they made us Admirals so young?"
His eyes met Sakazuki's in the mirror. "Well, of course we are. No one else has our zeal for Absolute Justice."
Kizaru's grin twisted to something sarcastic instead. "Is it? Or is it because we're malleable? Young enough to be shaped into what they need?"
The tailor felt the atmosphere change and ebbed backward, excusing himself to get more pins. In the ensuing quiet, Kizaru's words hung heavy in the air.
"What are you saying, Borsalino?" Sakazuki turned toward his fellow Admiral.
Kizaru's eyes, always half-lidded in a pose of affected boredom, were now razor-sharp. "I'm saying, Saka-chan, that maybe the rank of Admiral isn't what we thought it was. It's not about skill, not really. It's about power. Personal power."
He gestured at their reflections, two young men dressed in the trappings of authority. "Look at us. Barely out of our teens, and we're supposed to be the most powerful men in the Marines. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
Sakazuki's brow furrowed. "We earned our positions through hard work and dedication."
"Did we?" Kizaru responded, "Or were we chosen because we're young enough to be formed into shape? Into the perfect tools for another person's agenda?" The silence was deafening. Kizaru returned to the mirror, adjusting his tie with his fingers shaking ever so slightly.
"Most Marines," he went on, his voice low, "they pace themselves. They climb the ranks slow, learning, growing. By the time they reach Admiral, they're old men, set in their ways. But us? We've been fast-tracked. Trained specifically to do this."
Sakazuki's face was a mask of confusion and dawning realization. "But why?"
Kizaru's smile was the most bitter thing, far from his lazy grin. "Because, Saka-chan, we're easier to control this way. Young, impressionable, full of fire and ideals about justice. The perfect pawns in someone else's game."
As the tailor returned, pins in hand, the two Admirals fell silent. Though the weight of Kizaru's words hung between them, a truth too heavy to ignore.
Kizaru adjusted his yellow jacket one last time and finally met his eyes in the mirror. There stood a man who now knew that, if he ever were to attain justice, it would come at a terrible price. The reflection didn't show a man lost in his youth and carefree when entering the Marines with dreams of justice.
"Well, Saka-chan," he said, his voice now light, careless, though his eyes remained sharp. "Shall we go show the world what the youngest Admirals in Marine history look like?"
Coming out of the tailor's shop in new suits, there was something that Kizaru just couldn't shake off—that they had crossed a threshold. The game altered; the stakes were now higher than ever. But then, as he studied his yellow tie with a smirk, maybe he always liked upping the challenge.
Author's Notes: There's not much to say here, other then I hope you guys are all having a good day. Once again, support on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
The Yellow Devil's Gambit
The sun, low in the sky, was on its way to setting over Amazon Lily, and so it convincingly cast stretching shadows across the landscape—that greeny tropical land. Borsalino Boromante, impressively known to the world as Admiral Kizaru, climbed to the shore as an imposing silhouette that his huge figure embodied. The brightness of his bright yellow three-piece suit contrasted a lot with the surroundings during the last moments of the sunset.
Kizaru's green eyes swept the treeline as his mind worked over potential threats and ways to retreat if necessary. At 23, he had built a reputation that preceded him, even here on this isolated island. Locals whispered and pointed as he confidently strode inland with his muscular form and handsome features in perpetual coexistence between admiration and fear.
As Kizaru came closer to the village, he saw a figure. It was Nyon, the Kuja Empress, just a young lady of unimaginable beauty, so transcendently beautiful that no one around here could compare with her. She shined; her brilliance maybe touched the air as it shimmered, even making him, the brilliant Admiral, speechless for a moment.
"Well, well," Kizaru drawled, his voice a lazy drawl that belied his sharp mind. "What do we have here? You must be the famous Nyon I've heard so much about."
Nyon regarded him warily, her hand instinctively moving to the weapon at her hip. "Admiral Kizaru. Your reputation precedes you. What brings a Navy dog to our shores?"
Kizaru's lips spread into a smirk; his green orbs glinted with an intensity that made Nyon take a step back involuntarily. "I've come for you, my dear. You see, I have been searching far and wide for some company—one who will stand by my side as I remake this world."
With that, he advanced towards Nyon, his enormous figure hovering above her. "The moment I heard about you, I knew you were the one. I confess my undying love unto you, Nyon. Be mine, and we shall rule the seas."
Nyon's eyes widened in shock as her voice barely came out of her throat. "You're mad. You don't even know me."
Kizaru laughed, a cold, slipping-down-the-bone sound that chilled Nyon's very insides. "Oh, but I do. I know everything about you, my dear. And I know that you are the only one who will truly understand me—-other than my dear friend Akainu."
As Kizaru spoke, visions of his childhood with Akainu flashed across his mind. They were inseparable, two brilliant minds forged in the crucible of hardship and ambition. Now, standing before Nyon, Kizaru felt another kind of hunger: a desire for companionship that extended beyond friendship.
"You see, my dear," Kizaru went on, his voice dangerous, "I've never met anyone quite like you. And I don't intend to let you slip away."
Nyon's hand tightened on her weapon, her voice trembling barely perceptibly. "And if I refuse?"
Kizaru's smile grew wider, his teeth too sharp, too predatory. "Oh, my dear. Who said you had a choice?"
It was hard not to find herself drawn inexorably to the giant figure of Admiral Kizaru as night settled on Amazon Lily. His declaration, of course, had appalled her, yet hours went by, and something in her clicked on to this colossus of a man with green, piercing eyes.
"Tell me, Admiral," Nyon murmured, "what shall I do to believe your professions of love? You barely know me."
Kizaru's lips curled into a beaming smile, at once charming and full of threat. "Oh, but I do know you, my dear. Every bit about your life, every choice you have ever made—I've read it. Your strength, your beauty, your mind—they're all the pieces to a puzzle I've so longed to solve."
His words were as smooth as honey, sharp as a blade. Nyon felt a shiver run down her spine. Though caution screamed in her mind, she felt her feet take a step back, her eyes locked on Kizaru.
"You see," he continued, his massive frame moving with unexpected grace as he circled around Nyon, "I'm not just offering you love—I am offering you the world."
A hand motion on his part, and their surroundings were suddenly bathed in yellow holographic avatars of technology well beyond that which Nyon had ever seen.
"Think of what we could achieve—together," Kizaru whispered, sending shivers through her with his breath against her ear. "With my mind and your sway on this island, we could bend reality itself to our whim."
Nyon's will began to crumble. The raw power oozing from Kizaru, blended with undeniable charms and a promise of a future beyond anything she had ever envisioned, swept her head over heels.
"I… I do not know what to say," the girl who had never been at loss of words stumbled.
Kizaru's grin broadened, his teeth too pointed in moonlight. "Say yes, my dear. Say you'll be mine."
The moment Nyon's eyes met the fierce green glint in Kizaru's, she felt as if she were teetering on the edge of some cliff. Something inside her shrieked at her to run, to fight, to reject this dangerous man and his smooth words.
Yet, in that instant, when power and passion were within her grasp, Nyon chose a path from which there was no turning back.
"Yes," she whispered, the tone barely perceptible. "Yes, I'll be yours." At that moment, she had succumbed to lovesickness.
As he pulled Nyon into his arms, the shadows seemed to lengthen around them, as if the very island itself recoiled at the unholy union that had just been forged.
* * *
It had been weeks since Nyon was smitten by Admiral Kizaru, and her world seemed to whirl into a paradise of passion and promise. The hulking figure, with piercing green eyes and a sharp mind, became her whole universe.
It was one moonlit night as they lay in each other's arms in the dead-end cove—their secret place of meeting—when Kizaru's voice cut clear through the darkness like a knife.
"My dear Nyon," he purred, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin, "you understand that our love must remain our little secret, don't you?"
Nyon's heart skipped a beat. "But why, my love? Surely our happiness—"
Kizaru's laugh was low and dangerous. "Oh, my sweet, naive girl. Your tribe, they despise Marines, don't they? And the World Government? They're not exactly on your Christmas card list, are they?"
Nyon shivered with a coldness that was not of the night. "You are right, of course. But for us to conceal this. It feels wrong."
Kizaru's enormous frame moved in, casting a long shadow across her in the darkness. His green eyes seemed to glow with otherworldly light. "Wrong? No, my dear. What's wrong is letting others dictate our happiness. This is for us, and us alone."
His words were honey-coated poison, and Nyon lapped them up.
"I have something for you," Kizaru said, digging into his bright yellow suit jacket. He pulled out a small, innocuous-yellow-looking pill. "This, my love, is our ticket to forever."
Nyon's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?"
Kizaru's smile was razor-sharp in the moonlight. "This little marvel comes from a place beyond your wildest imagination. It will keep you young, preserve our love for eternity."
Nyon's hand trembled as she reached for the pill. "And you. You'll take one too?"
Kizaru's laugh was like broken glass. "Oh, my dear. I have. other means of ensuring my longevity. This is my gift to you."
The pill slid down her throat, and euphoria washed over Nyon. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, a tiny voice screamed warning. A warning she was all too willing to ignore.
"There," Kizaru whispered. His hot breath licked her ear. "Now you're mine. Forever."
As Nyon drifted off to sleep within the massive arms of Kizaru, she did not see the triumphant light glowing within the eyes of Kizaru.
For in the haze of love, it was a truth overlooked by Nyon: that which seems too good to be true, often is. And in the world of Admiral Kizaru, every gift and all favors bore their due price to be paid—a price that Nyon, in her blinded devotion, had yet to understand fully.
The swallowed pill was a key to eternal youth, but a time bomb lying in wait, binding her to Kizaru in a way she could never imagine.
The sun had barely risen over Amazon Lily when the massive frame of Kizaru extended, casting a perpetual shadow on Nyon's quivering figure. It was as if green blades stared into her soul as he said, his voice a low and sinister whisper.
"My dearest Nyon," Kizaru purred, his large hand cupping her face, "I have a task that will test the very limits of your devotion."
Nyon's heart raced, a thrill of fear shooting through her veins spiked with excitement. "Anything for you, my love. What is it that you need?"
Kizaru's lips twisted into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I need you to spy on the Rocks Pirates for me, infiltrate them."
Those words hung suspended between them, a sentence of death. Nyon's breath caught in her throat at the renewal of memories, the reasons she had reached out for the Rocks Pirates.
"But The Rocks Pirates? They're monsters, Borsalino. Demons of the sea. How could I possibly…?"
Kizaru's massive fingers tightened incrementally on her chin. "You already had your reasons for wanting to join them, didn't you? This time, you'll have a higher purpose."
Nyon furrowed her brow. "Even if I could join them, how would I get any valuable information? They're notoriously secretive and—"
Her words were cut off when Kizaru's voice resounded in her mind, ringing clear as a bell. "Don't worry, my sweet. We have ways of communicating that they can never detect."
Nyon gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "How. How are you doing that?"
Kizaru's grin grew wider, his teeth almost too sharp. "A little gift from that pill I gave you. Connected now, in ways no one else could ever understand."
Seconds—a lifetime—relief washed over Nyon. At least he couldn't read her thoughts, couldn't see the depths of her obsession: the way he consumed every living, waking moment of hers.
"I can't read your mind, if that's what you're worried about," the voice of Kizaru echoed in her head. "Just talk. Our little secret."
Nyon nodded, a mixture of fear and excitement racing through her veins. "I will do that," she whispered barely loud enough to hear herself. "For you, I will infiltrate the Rocks Pirates."
Kizaru's laughter was like shattered glass, sharp and grating. "That is my girl. You will be our key to the ultimate victory."
"Remember, my love," Kizaru's voice whispered into her mind and reality. "Our bond is unbreakable now. No matter where you go, no matter what horrors you face with the Rocks, I'll always be by your side."
Nyon closed her eyes, glorying in the warmth of Kizaru's massive body and his voice as it sounded in her mind; her love further blinded her to the strings of fate entwining her.
* * *
The sun had begun its dip down to the bottom of the horizon; rays stretched across the headquarters of the Marines as Admiral Kizaru strode down corridors barely keeping his bulk within an immaculate yellow three-piece suit. He walked with a gait that foreshadowed the darkness that came with him in his footsteps.
Akainu's office door screeched open, and the stern-faced Admiral was hunched over his desk. He raised his gaze, and a rather rare smile cracked that stony visage as Kizaru came through.
"Ooooh, Sakazuki-kun," Kizaru drawled, his voice forming a lazy contrast to his sharp green eyes. "It's been too loooong."
Akainu leaned back, his chair groaning under his weight. "Borsalino. I trust your… vacation was productive?"
Kizaru's lips curled into a smirk. "Mooore than you could imagine. Our little spy is in plaaaace."
Akainu's eyebrow arched. "Nyon? She's infiltrated the Rocks?"
"Indeeeed," Kizaru replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But there's been an… unexpected development."
Akainu leaned forward, his interest piqued. "What kind of development?"
Kizaru's massive frame seemed to shrink slightly, an almost sheepish look crossing his handsome features. "I've fallen for her, Sakazuki. Truly fallen."
The silence hung there for a moment before Akainu suddenly burst into laughter, the harsh, grating sound sending chills down junior officers' spines as they passed by outside.
"You? In love?" Akainu shook his head, still chuckling. "Well, well. The great Admiral Kizaru, felled by Cupid's arrow."
An alarm went off all over the building, cutting Kizaru's response off. Akainu's Den Den Mushi crackled to life, reporting a pirate crew spotted not too far away.
"Shall we, old friend?" Akainu grinned, his eyes flashing with all the predatorial instincts of a wild beast.
"Ooooh, it would be my pleasure," Kizaru said with an easy smile, his momentary vulnerability gone like smoke.
* * *
The two Admirals charged through the pirate crew like a hurricane on paper. Limbs flew, screams resounded, and blood raced across the deck of the pirate ship, painting it crimson.
As Kizaru lazily vaporized a fleeing pirate with a beam of light, he picked up their earlier conversation. "You see, Sakazuki-kun, Nyon is…different. She understands me."
Akainu nodded, having the mast of that ship melt with just a touch of his magma-infused clenched fist. "And the pill? Perfectly in place?"
"Perrrrrfectly," Kizaru purred, stepping over a fallen body without a glance at it. "She's mine now, body and soul."
The final pirate fell, and there the two Admirals stood amidst the carnage, pristine garments amidst destruction.
"Just be careful, Borsalino," Akainu warned, his voice soft, unbeknownst to him. "Love can be a weakness in our line of work."
Kizaru's laughter was cold, hollow. "Oh, Sakazuki-kun. Love isn't my weakness. It's my greatest weapon."
The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky turning red amidst Blood spilling across the deck. Kizaru and Akainu turned their backs to the butchery they left behind them, but the acrid smell of roasted flesh and molten metal filled the air—an evil evidence of their power to cause destruction.
"Oooooh, Sakazuki-kun," Kizaru drawled, his voice a lazy contrast to the surroundings. "Don't you think it's time you found yourself a little companionship?" His green eyes glinted with mischief, a stark juxtaposition to the bodies strewn about their feet.
Akainu's expression didn't budge an iota, though a flicker did pass over his eyes. "Companionship? Borsalino, above all, you ought to know the only love I hold is in justice." With that, he stepped over the body of a fallen pirate, with smoldering footprints left behind.
Kizaru laughed clear, a sound that shivered the spines of junior marines now rushing around to clean up the mess throughout the decimated ship. "Justice might warm your bed at night, my friend, but it won't keep you company in the way a woman could."
Akainu's eyebrow arched slightly. "And what would you suggest? That I find myself a spy to fall in love with, like you?" His tone was dry, but there was no real bite behind his words.
Kizaru's enormous frame shook silently as he laughed. "Ooooh, perhaps not quite like that. But surely even the great Admiral Sakazuki isn't above the pleasures of the flesh?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive fashion, looking rather comic on his hulking, handsome face.
Akainu's face was human for a moment before flickering back to well Akainu. "I… would not say no to sex, that is fun," he confessed reluctantly. "But love? It is a-interference we cannot afford in our line of business again."
Kizaru put a huge hand on Akainu's shoulder, the motion nearly rocking the other man off-balance despite being roughly the same size. "Aaah, my friend. Always so serious. Maybe one day you will find someone that can melt that cold heart of yours."
Akainu snorted and shrugged Kizaru's hand off his shoulder. "And the day that happens is the day I retire from the Marines."
As they walked away from the scene of destruction, Kizaru couldn't help but smile at his friend's unwavering dedication. "The zeal you show toward your Absolute Justice is admirable, Sakazuki-kun. It's what makes you such a formidable ally and a terrifying enemy."
The two Admirals walked back to headquarters with casual banter that sharply contrasted with the trail of death in their wake.
A ruckus near the training fields drew their interest. There was an awkward teenager with curly hair, surrounded by a group of gawking marines, his hands sheathed in a shimmering layer of ice.
"Oooh, what have we got here?" Kizaru drawled, green eyes narrowing with interest.
The boy spun about, eyes widening at the sight of the two Admirals. "Admirals Kizaru and Akainu, sir!" His salute was sharp, but his voice blurred in an adolescent croak. "I'm Kuzan, sir. I… I was hoping to speak with you both."
Akainu's face darkened further, his perpetual scowl deepening. "We don't have time for children's games, boy. Run along."
Kuzan's face fell, but in his eyes flashed a gleam of determination. He whisked out a complex model of the Marine logo, just like that, and with such fineness that the fading light made it shimmer.
"I want to be apprenticed under you both," Kuzan said, much more controlled now. "I was ranked first in my class, so I am sure to learn a lot from you."
Kizaru's arm stretched out suddenly, as Akainu reached up to dismiss the boy once more. "Wait, Sakazuki-kun. I think we should listen to this."
Akainu's eyebrow rose. "Listen to what? Take on some brat as an apprentice?"
Kizaru's voice dropped to a whisper, his usual drawl sharpening with intensity. "This boy. he could be exactly what we need. Remember what I told you about the Rocks? About the future?"
Akainu's eyes widened the slightest, comprehension washing over his features. Kizaru continued his words for Akainu's ears alone.
"He'll make a great Admiral, Sakazuki-kun. Likely reaching the role earlier than we did and he'll probably be far more important than we could ever know."
Akainu's jaw clenched visibly, but he nodded minutely. Kizaru turned back to Kuzan, a lazy smile spreading over his handsome face.
"Well, young Kuzan. It seems you've impressed us. We'll take you on as our apprentice."
Kuzan's face lit up with joy, but Akainu's next words froze the smile on his face.
"But understand this, boy. Our path is not an easy one. We walk the road of Absolute Justice. There is no room for weakness, for hesitation. Are you prepared for that?"
Kuzan stood upright; his youthful face was set in determination. "Yes, sir. Any order is fine by me."
As Kuzan followed the two Admirals with shining eyes, full of admiration, neither he nor Akainu noticed the cold, calculating gleam in Kizaru's green eyes. In the game of shadows and prophecies, young Kuzan was just another piece on the board—a powerful one, to be sure, but a piece nonetheless.
Later that night, Kizaru stood alone on the balcony of his quarter. His face turned into a smile, ice-cold in nature if one was viewing him.
"Oooh, Nyon-chan," he murmured to the empty air. "Everything is falling into place."
Kizaru, the puppet master was pulling strings that even he did not understand.
Author's Notes: I'm back guys. Expect to see a really OP Kizaru in a few chapters. Once again support me on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic? Have a good day ya'll.
Kizaru's green eyes swept the treeline as his mind worked over potential threats and ways to retreat if necessary. At 23, he had built a reputation that preceded him, even here on this isolated island. Locals whispered and pointed as he confidently strode inland with his muscular form and handsome features in perpetual coexistence between admiration and fear.
As Kizaru came closer to the village, he saw a figure. It was Nyon, the Kuja Empress, just a young lady of unimaginable beauty, so transcendently beautiful that no one around here could compare with her. She shined; her brilliance maybe touched the air as it shimmered, even making him, the brilliant Admiral, speechless for a moment.
"Well, well," Kizaru drawled, his voice a lazy drawl that belied his sharp mind. "What do we have here? You must be the famous Nyon I've heard so much about."
Nyon regarded him warily, her hand instinctively moving to the weapon at her hip. "Admiral Kizaru. Your reputation precedes you. What brings a Navy dog to our shores?"
Kizaru's lips spread into a smirk; his green orbs glinted with an intensity that made Nyon take a step back involuntarily. "I've come for you, my dear. You see, I have been searching far and wide for some company—one who will stand by my side as I remake this world."
With that, he advanced towards Nyon, his enormous figure hovering above her. "The moment I heard about you, I knew you were the one. I confess my undying love unto you, Nyon. Be mine, and we shall rule the seas."
Nyon's eyes widened in shock as her voice barely came out of her throat. "You're mad. You don't even know me."
Kizaru laughed, a cold, slipping-down-the-bone sound that chilled Nyon's very insides. "Oh, but I do. I know everything about you, my dear. And I know that you are the only one who will truly understand me—-other than my dear friend Akainu."
As Kizaru spoke, visions of his childhood with Akainu flashed across his mind. They were inseparable, two brilliant minds forged in the crucible of hardship and ambition. Now, standing before Nyon, Kizaru felt another kind of hunger: a desire for companionship that extended beyond friendship.
"You see, my dear," Kizaru went on, his voice dangerous, "I've never met anyone quite like you. And I don't intend to let you slip away."
Nyon's hand tightened on her weapon, her voice trembling barely perceptibly. "And if I refuse?"
Kizaru's smile grew wider, his teeth too sharp, too predatory. "Oh, my dear. Who said you had a choice?"
It was hard not to find herself drawn inexorably to the giant figure of Admiral Kizaru as night settled on Amazon Lily. His declaration, of course, had appalled her, yet hours went by, and something in her clicked on to this colossus of a man with green, piercing eyes.
"Tell me, Admiral," Nyon murmured, "what shall I do to believe your professions of love? You barely know me."
Kizaru's lips curled into a beaming smile, at once charming and full of threat. "Oh, but I do know you, my dear. Every bit about your life, every choice you have ever made—I've read it. Your strength, your beauty, your mind—they're all the pieces to a puzzle I've so longed to solve."
His words were as smooth as honey, sharp as a blade. Nyon felt a shiver run down her spine. Though caution screamed in her mind, she felt her feet take a step back, her eyes locked on Kizaru.
"You see," he continued, his massive frame moving with unexpected grace as he circled around Nyon, "I'm not just offering you love—I am offering you the world."
A hand motion on his part, and their surroundings were suddenly bathed in yellow holographic avatars of technology well beyond that which Nyon had ever seen.
"Think of what we could achieve—together," Kizaru whispered, sending shivers through her with his breath against her ear. "With my mind and your sway on this island, we could bend reality itself to our whim."
Nyon's will began to crumble. The raw power oozing from Kizaru, blended with undeniable charms and a promise of a future beyond anything she had ever envisioned, swept her head over heels.
"I… I do not know what to say," the girl who had never been at loss of words stumbled.
Kizaru's grin broadened, his teeth too pointed in moonlight. "Say yes, my dear. Say you'll be mine."
The moment Nyon's eyes met the fierce green glint in Kizaru's, she felt as if she were teetering on the edge of some cliff. Something inside her shrieked at her to run, to fight, to reject this dangerous man and his smooth words.
Yet, in that instant, when power and passion were within her grasp, Nyon chose a path from which there was no turning back.
"Yes," she whispered, the tone barely perceptible. "Yes, I'll be yours." At that moment, she had succumbed to lovesickness.
As he pulled Nyon into his arms, the shadows seemed to lengthen around them, as if the very island itself recoiled at the unholy union that had just been forged.
* * *
It had been weeks since Nyon was smitten by Admiral Kizaru, and her world seemed to whirl into a paradise of passion and promise. The hulking figure, with piercing green eyes and a sharp mind, became her whole universe.
It was one moonlit night as they lay in each other's arms in the dead-end cove—their secret place of meeting—when Kizaru's voice cut clear through the darkness like a knife.
"My dear Nyon," he purred, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin, "you understand that our love must remain our little secret, don't you?"
Nyon's heart skipped a beat. "But why, my love? Surely our happiness—"
Kizaru's laugh was low and dangerous. "Oh, my sweet, naive girl. Your tribe, they despise Marines, don't they? And the World Government? They're not exactly on your Christmas card list, are they?"
Nyon shivered with a coldness that was not of the night. "You are right, of course. But for us to conceal this. It feels wrong."
Kizaru's enormous frame moved in, casting a long shadow across her in the darkness. His green eyes seemed to glow with otherworldly light. "Wrong? No, my dear. What's wrong is letting others dictate our happiness. This is for us, and us alone."
His words were honey-coated poison, and Nyon lapped them up.
"I have something for you," Kizaru said, digging into his bright yellow suit jacket. He pulled out a small, innocuous-yellow-looking pill. "This, my love, is our ticket to forever."
Nyon's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?"
Kizaru's smile was razor-sharp in the moonlight. "This little marvel comes from a place beyond your wildest imagination. It will keep you young, preserve our love for eternity."
Nyon's hand trembled as she reached for the pill. "And you. You'll take one too?"
Kizaru's laugh was like broken glass. "Oh, my dear. I have. other means of ensuring my longevity. This is my gift to you."
The pill slid down her throat, and euphoria washed over Nyon. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, a tiny voice screamed warning. A warning she was all too willing to ignore.
"There," Kizaru whispered. His hot breath licked her ear. "Now you're mine. Forever."
As Nyon drifted off to sleep within the massive arms of Kizaru, she did not see the triumphant light glowing within the eyes of Kizaru.
For in the haze of love, it was a truth overlooked by Nyon: that which seems too good to be true, often is. And in the world of Admiral Kizaru, every gift and all favors bore their due price to be paid—a price that Nyon, in her blinded devotion, had yet to understand fully.
The swallowed pill was a key to eternal youth, but a time bomb lying in wait, binding her to Kizaru in a way she could never imagine.
The sun had barely risen over Amazon Lily when the massive frame of Kizaru extended, casting a perpetual shadow on Nyon's quivering figure. It was as if green blades stared into her soul as he said, his voice a low and sinister whisper.
"My dearest Nyon," Kizaru purred, his large hand cupping her face, "I have a task that will test the very limits of your devotion."
Nyon's heart raced, a thrill of fear shooting through her veins spiked with excitement. "Anything for you, my love. What is it that you need?"
Kizaru's lips twisted into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I need you to spy on the Rocks Pirates for me, infiltrate them."
Those words hung suspended between them, a sentence of death. Nyon's breath caught in her throat at the renewal of memories, the reasons she had reached out for the Rocks Pirates.
"But The Rocks Pirates? They're monsters, Borsalino. Demons of the sea. How could I possibly…?"
Kizaru's massive fingers tightened incrementally on her chin. "You already had your reasons for wanting to join them, didn't you? This time, you'll have a higher purpose."
Nyon furrowed her brow. "Even if I could join them, how would I get any valuable information? They're notoriously secretive and—"
Her words were cut off when Kizaru's voice resounded in her mind, ringing clear as a bell. "Don't worry, my sweet. We have ways of communicating that they can never detect."
Nyon gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "How. How are you doing that?"
Kizaru's grin grew wider, his teeth almost too sharp. "A little gift from that pill I gave you. Connected now, in ways no one else could ever understand."
Seconds—a lifetime—relief washed over Nyon. At least he couldn't read her thoughts, couldn't see the depths of her obsession: the way he consumed every living, waking moment of hers.
"I can't read your mind, if that's what you're worried about," the voice of Kizaru echoed in her head. "Just talk. Our little secret."
Nyon nodded, a mixture of fear and excitement racing through her veins. "I will do that," she whispered barely loud enough to hear herself. "For you, I will infiltrate the Rocks Pirates."
Kizaru's laughter was like shattered glass, sharp and grating. "That is my girl. You will be our key to the ultimate victory."
"Remember, my love," Kizaru's voice whispered into her mind and reality. "Our bond is unbreakable now. No matter where you go, no matter what horrors you face with the Rocks, I'll always be by your side."
Nyon closed her eyes, glorying in the warmth of Kizaru's massive body and his voice as it sounded in her mind; her love further blinded her to the strings of fate entwining her.
* * *
The sun had begun its dip down to the bottom of the horizon; rays stretched across the headquarters of the Marines as Admiral Kizaru strode down corridors barely keeping his bulk within an immaculate yellow three-piece suit. He walked with a gait that foreshadowed the darkness that came with him in his footsteps.
Akainu's office door screeched open, and the stern-faced Admiral was hunched over his desk. He raised his gaze, and a rather rare smile cracked that stony visage as Kizaru came through.
"Ooooh, Sakazuki-kun," Kizaru drawled, his voice forming a lazy contrast to his sharp green eyes. "It's been too loooong."
Akainu leaned back, his chair groaning under his weight. "Borsalino. I trust your… vacation was productive?"
Kizaru's lips curled into a smirk. "Mooore than you could imagine. Our little spy is in plaaaace."
Akainu's eyebrow arched. "Nyon? She's infiltrated the Rocks?"
"Indeeeed," Kizaru replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But there's been an… unexpected development."
Akainu leaned forward, his interest piqued. "What kind of development?"
Kizaru's massive frame seemed to shrink slightly, an almost sheepish look crossing his handsome features. "I've fallen for her, Sakazuki. Truly fallen."
The silence hung there for a moment before Akainu suddenly burst into laughter, the harsh, grating sound sending chills down junior officers' spines as they passed by outside.
"You? In love?" Akainu shook his head, still chuckling. "Well, well. The great Admiral Kizaru, felled by Cupid's arrow."
An alarm went off all over the building, cutting Kizaru's response off. Akainu's Den Den Mushi crackled to life, reporting a pirate crew spotted not too far away.
"Shall we, old friend?" Akainu grinned, his eyes flashing with all the predatorial instincts of a wild beast.
"Ooooh, it would be my pleasure," Kizaru said with an easy smile, his momentary vulnerability gone like smoke.
* * *
The two Admirals charged through the pirate crew like a hurricane on paper. Limbs flew, screams resounded, and blood raced across the deck of the pirate ship, painting it crimson.
As Kizaru lazily vaporized a fleeing pirate with a beam of light, he picked up their earlier conversation. "You see, Sakazuki-kun, Nyon is…different. She understands me."
Akainu nodded, having the mast of that ship melt with just a touch of his magma-infused clenched fist. "And the pill? Perfectly in place?"
"Perrrrrfectly," Kizaru purred, stepping over a fallen body without a glance at it. "She's mine now, body and soul."
The final pirate fell, and there the two Admirals stood amidst the carnage, pristine garments amidst destruction.
"Just be careful, Borsalino," Akainu warned, his voice soft, unbeknownst to him. "Love can be a weakness in our line of work."
Kizaru's laughter was cold, hollow. "Oh, Sakazuki-kun. Love isn't my weakness. It's my greatest weapon."
The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky turning red amidst Blood spilling across the deck. Kizaru and Akainu turned their backs to the butchery they left behind them, but the acrid smell of roasted flesh and molten metal filled the air—an evil evidence of their power to cause destruction.
"Oooooh, Sakazuki-kun," Kizaru drawled, his voice a lazy contrast to the surroundings. "Don't you think it's time you found yourself a little companionship?" His green eyes glinted with mischief, a stark juxtaposition to the bodies strewn about their feet.
Akainu's expression didn't budge an iota, though a flicker did pass over his eyes. "Companionship? Borsalino, above all, you ought to know the only love I hold is in justice." With that, he stepped over the body of a fallen pirate, with smoldering footprints left behind.
Kizaru laughed clear, a sound that shivered the spines of junior marines now rushing around to clean up the mess throughout the decimated ship. "Justice might warm your bed at night, my friend, but it won't keep you company in the way a woman could."
Akainu's eyebrow arched slightly. "And what would you suggest? That I find myself a spy to fall in love with, like you?" His tone was dry, but there was no real bite behind his words.
Kizaru's enormous frame shook silently as he laughed. "Ooooh, perhaps not quite like that. But surely even the great Admiral Sakazuki isn't above the pleasures of the flesh?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive fashion, looking rather comic on his hulking, handsome face.
Akainu's face was human for a moment before flickering back to well Akainu. "I… would not say no to sex, that is fun," he confessed reluctantly. "But love? It is a-interference we cannot afford in our line of business again."
Kizaru put a huge hand on Akainu's shoulder, the motion nearly rocking the other man off-balance despite being roughly the same size. "Aaah, my friend. Always so serious. Maybe one day you will find someone that can melt that cold heart of yours."
Akainu snorted and shrugged Kizaru's hand off his shoulder. "And the day that happens is the day I retire from the Marines."
As they walked away from the scene of destruction, Kizaru couldn't help but smile at his friend's unwavering dedication. "The zeal you show toward your Absolute Justice is admirable, Sakazuki-kun. It's what makes you such a formidable ally and a terrifying enemy."
The two Admirals walked back to headquarters with casual banter that sharply contrasted with the trail of death in their wake.
A ruckus near the training fields drew their interest. There was an awkward teenager with curly hair, surrounded by a group of gawking marines, his hands sheathed in a shimmering layer of ice.
"Oooh, what have we got here?" Kizaru drawled, green eyes narrowing with interest.
The boy spun about, eyes widening at the sight of the two Admirals. "Admirals Kizaru and Akainu, sir!" His salute was sharp, but his voice blurred in an adolescent croak. "I'm Kuzan, sir. I… I was hoping to speak with you both."
Akainu's face darkened further, his perpetual scowl deepening. "We don't have time for children's games, boy. Run along."
Kuzan's face fell, but in his eyes flashed a gleam of determination. He whisked out a complex model of the Marine logo, just like that, and with such fineness that the fading light made it shimmer.
"I want to be apprenticed under you both," Kuzan said, much more controlled now. "I was ranked first in my class, so I am sure to learn a lot from you."
Kizaru's arm stretched out suddenly, as Akainu reached up to dismiss the boy once more. "Wait, Sakazuki-kun. I think we should listen to this."
Akainu's eyebrow rose. "Listen to what? Take on some brat as an apprentice?"
Kizaru's voice dropped to a whisper, his usual drawl sharpening with intensity. "This boy. he could be exactly what we need. Remember what I told you about the Rocks? About the future?"
Akainu's eyes widened the slightest, comprehension washing over his features. Kizaru continued his words for Akainu's ears alone.
"He'll make a great Admiral, Sakazuki-kun. Likely reaching the role earlier than we did and he'll probably be far more important than we could ever know."
Akainu's jaw clenched visibly, but he nodded minutely. Kizaru turned back to Kuzan, a lazy smile spreading over his handsome face.
"Well, young Kuzan. It seems you've impressed us. We'll take you on as our apprentice."
Kuzan's face lit up with joy, but Akainu's next words froze the smile on his face.
"But understand this, boy. Our path is not an easy one. We walk the road of Absolute Justice. There is no room for weakness, for hesitation. Are you prepared for that?"
Kuzan stood upright; his youthful face was set in determination. "Yes, sir. Any order is fine by me."
As Kuzan followed the two Admirals with shining eyes, full of admiration, neither he nor Akainu noticed the cold, calculating gleam in Kizaru's green eyes. In the game of shadows and prophecies, young Kuzan was just another piece on the board—a powerful one, to be sure, but a piece nonetheless.
Later that night, Kizaru stood alone on the balcony of his quarter. His face turned into a smile, ice-cold in nature if one was viewing him.
"Oooh, Nyon-chan," he murmured to the empty air. "Everything is falling into place."
Kizaru, the puppet master was pulling strings that even he did not understand.
Author's Notes: I'm back guys. Expect to see a really OP Kizaru in a few chapters. Once again support me on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic? Have a good day ya'll.
The Wheels of Fate
A relentless sun pounded down on the training grounds of the Marines, its rays seeming to warp themselves around Kizaru's towering form as he stood in shadow and made for an unseen observer of sorts. His green eyes were dull and chilled, locked upon the spectacle in front of him: Akainu—relentless as ever—running young Kuzan ragged.
"Again!" Akainu's voice cracked like a whip. "You think pirates will wait for you to catch your breath, boy?"
Kuzan, sweating profusely, nodded grimly and raised his hands. Ice crystals started forming in the air and began congealing into a gigantic wall. Akainu's magma-wreathed fist smashed right through it with ease that was terrifying to behold.
"Oooh, Sakazuki-kun," Kizaru drawled, carrying his voice clear across the training ground, "don't break our new toy just yet."
As Akainu turned to reply, Kizaru felt once more––that telltale tingling at the edge of his consciousness. The Force, as Rey had dubbed it, surged inside him, a stormy tempest barely contained within the bounds of his skin.
He had tamed it alone, this power beyond anything One Piece had ever known. Combined with abilities in light, awesome haki, and Lex's brain, it made him… unstoppable.
"Just checking him, he's need to be worth our time, Borsalino," Akainu growled, his eyes flashing back toward Kuzan. "Now, again!"
Kizaru's lips twisted upwards into his habitual lazy grin, but he was anything but relaxed inside. The Force had always whispered in his ear, glimpses of perhaps futures, of power beyond imagining. Sometimes it took all of his truly impressive willpower to keep the mask in place.
"Ooooh, I think our little ice cube is coming along quite nicely," Kizaru said, his voice pitched just loud enough for Kuzan to hear. "Maybe it's time for a little... light training."
Kuzan's eyes lit up at the prospect, but Akainu shook his head. "Not yet. He needs to learn endurance first."
As the training session progressed, Kizaru closed his eyes and reached out with his newest senses. He could feel the ebb and flow of energies around him—the burning intensity of Akainu, the determined chill of Kuzan—and beyond, that vast ocean of power that was the world itself.
With a thought, he could destroy them both. With a gesture, he could remold the very island they stood on. The power was intoxicating, terrifying in its scope.
But he held back.
"Oooh, I think that's enough for today," Kizaru said finally, his voice cutting through the sounds of combat. "Our little Kuzan looks about ready to melt."
Akainu grunted in agreement, and Kuzan sagged with relief. On their way back to the base, Kizaru hung back, his eyes far away.
"Is everything all right, Admiral Kizaru?" Kuzan asked, noting his distraction.
Kizaru had a really nice smile for purposes of hiding what one really meant. "Just fine, ice cube. Just… thinking about the future."
Turning away, the air itself about Kizaru would shimmer and ripple reality just ever so slightly. The world of One Piece held within it the greatest power to ever walk among Akainu and Kuzan, and of this, they had no idea.
In the dimmed lab, Dr. Vegapunk stood in the lengthening shadows of the hulking Admiral Kizaru. The latter's three-piece yellow suit seemed to shine with his marine cloak under the haunting light from the screens and monitors all around them.
"Ooooh, Doctor Vegapunk," crooned Kizaru, his green gaze glowing bright with intelligence, "I think it's time we should speed up our plans."
Dr. Vegapunk looked up from his workstation, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What do you mean, Admiral?"
Kizaru's lips curled into a smile that was equal parts charming and chilling. "We've been thinking too small, doctor. The Pacifista and The Death Star are just the beginning. What if we could advance our technology by… oh, let's say 500 years?"
Vegapunk's jaw dropped. "Five hundred years? But that's. that's impossible!"
"Impossible?" Kizaru chuckled, and once again, that small sound sent shivers down Vegapunk's spine. "My dear doctor, we live in a world of Devil Fruits and Haki. Impossible is just a word for the unimaginative."
Kizaru started pacing, his massive frame moving with a grace that was surprising for its size. "We start with energy. Imagine harnessing the power of Devil Fruits, not just for a few things, but whole cities at once. We could create clean, unlimited energy sources that would make even the most advanced nations look primitive."
Vegapunk nodded slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. "And transportation? Communications?"
"Exactly," purred Kizaru, "We develop ships that can sail underwater for months at a time, with materials that can keep up with the load of the deepest seas. Devices of communication that will send a message all around the world in a millisecond, using the very fibers of technology itself."
As Kizaru spoke, holographic projections in yellow burst to life about him, illustrating advanced weaponry, medical marvels, and impossible machines. Vegapunk's eyes grew wide at each new revelation. "But, Admiral," he whispered, "the cost… the resources needed…"
Kizaru's smile turned predatory. "Leave that to me, doctor. I have... certain powers that will ensure we have everything we need."
"We'll begin with small pilot projects," Kizaru went on, his voice taking on a near-hypnotic quality. "Testing our new technologies within controlled environments. Picture it: clean energy powering entire islands, advanced medical facilities capable of curing diseases previously thought incurable."
Vegapunk nodded fervently, caught up in the vision. "And the defense systems? The Marines would need to adapt at this rate of change."
"Oh yes," Kizaru chuckled, "we will revolutionize our defenses. Envision soldiers that could rival giants in strength and ships as airborne as they are seafaring, equipped with weapons that could partially nullify Devil Fruit powers at great distances.".
As the night ate on, Kizaru and Vegapunk were plotting and scheming in their conversation, their voices rising as the hours rolled by. They outlined research facilities, education programs, and implementation strategies that would recur. If One Piece was going to change how it worked, this would be how nobody could ever imagine.
As the first rays of dawn crept into the laboratory, the world welcomed a new future—a time when the lines between science and magic became synonymous, when the impossible became common, and the shift in power perpetual.
Kizaru stood up, extending his huge frame. "Well, doctor, I believe we have some work ahead. Shall we?"
Vegapunk nodded, a mix of excitement and trepidation in his eyes. "Yes, Admiral. Let us change the world."
As Kizaru strode out of the lab with Vegapunk, his yellow suit gleaming in the morning light, a cold smile played across his handsome features.
The air in Sengoku's office crackled with tension as Kizaru, Vegapunk, and Akainu stood before the Fleet Admiral. Sengoku's eyes, weary but sharp, scanned the document before him.
"This plan. It's ambitious beyond anything we've ever attempted," Sengoku muttered, his brow furrowed.
Kizaru's lazy smile belied the steel in his green eyes. "Ooooh, Fleet Admiral, you have no idea how ambitious it truly is."
With a wave of his hand, casual as brushing away a fly, Kizaru sent Sengoku's desk floating gently into the air. Akainu's eyes widened, his fists clenching instinctively. Vegapunk stumbled back, his mouth agape.
"What… what is this?" Akainu growled, magma bubbling beneath his skin.
Kizaru's chuckle was low and dangerous. "This, my dear colleagues, is the key to our success. The Force, a power beyond anything our world has ever known."
Over the course of the following hour, Kizaru demonstrated abilities so profound as to defy comprehension. He conjured matter from thin air, manipulated time and space, and even briefly lifted the veil between dimensions.
With this power," Kizaru drawled, his voice oddly serious, "our plan isn't just possible. It's inevitable."
Sengoku leaned back in his chair, his mind whirling with the implications. "Borsalino... how long have you had this power?"
Kizaru's smile was enigmatic. "Ooooh, long enough to know its potential. And long enough to know we need to use it carefully."
Vegapunk, ever the scientist, was already scribbling notes. "The applications are endless. With this, we could create any resource we need, solve any logistical problem."
Akainu's eyes narrowed. "And what's to stop you from using this power to take control yourself, Kizaru?"
The room was once again filled with laughter, this time ice-cold and crawling on their skin. "My dear Sakazuki, if I wanted governing to be mine, none of you would be able to hinder my path. But that's not my goal. I want to see our world evolve, to reach heights undreamed of. And for that, I need every one of you."
Sengoku stood. He decided on a course of action. "Fine. The plan is set in motion. But Borsalino, this power of yours. It stays between us. The world isn't ready to know of it."
As they went out of Sengoku's office, already making plans, Kizaru hung back. His eyes shone like lamps lit from within as he gazed out across Marineford.
In the course of the next few decades, the world would change beyond anything anyone could ever have envisioned. Islands rising from the ocean. Technology leaping forward by centuries. And power wouldn't just shift easily; it would blow away like sand in a storm. And through it all, crouched at the very epicenter of everything with his fingers gently tugging at the strings, would be a figure who held within his hands the very power of creation—Admiral Kizaru.
The future was bright, blinding even. And Kizaru had every intention to shape it in impossible acts, one at a time.
The training grounds of Marineford resounded with clashing steel and grunts of effort. At the very center stood Kuzan, not yet known as Aokiji, his lanky frame slick with sweat as he faced off against a barrage of training dummies.
Kizaru lounged some ways away, his muscular form draped elegantly in his yellow three-piece suit and marine cape jacket. His green eyes gleamed with interest as he watched the progress of his protégé.
"Ooooh, Kuzan-kun," Kizaru called out lazily across the field. "You're getting closer. Can you feel it?"
Aokiji gritted his teeth, focusing on his outstretched hand. For a moment nothing happened. Then as frost creeps slowly along a window pane, a faint black sheen began to spread over his fingers.
"I… I've got it!" exclaimed the normally laconic Kuzan, suddenly excited.
Kizaru smiled languidly. "Good, good, very good indeed. Now lets see you use it, shall we?"
Kizaru sent a light ray with a careless flick of his wrist in Aokiji's direction. It felt like time slowed as the young marine-focused, uttering the will to let the fledgling Haki spread further.
The beam struck the partially armored hand and caused it to scatter in a shower of sparks. Aokiji rocked backward with a wincing expression but remained standing.
"Ooooh, not bad at all," Kizaru mused, his tone a mix of pride and amusement. "You're learning faster than I had expected."
Akainu watched from the side, scowl deepening. "He's still too soft," the hot-headed marine growled. "You need to push him harder, Borsalino."
Kizaru turned his pointed gaze on Akainu. "Now, now, Sakazuki. We each have our ways of teaching. And mine, as you can see, are working out well."
Kizaru approached Aokiji, walking with a peculiar mix of grace and laziness that belied the coiled power he had within. He laid his hand on the shoulder of the young marine, and Aokiji felt a strange warmth flow through him.
"'Ah, the key, my dear Kuzan; first imagine your will as an unbreakable shield. Let it flow through you, around you—becoming an extension of yourself,'" Kizaru said in a low pitch before continuing in a half-whisper.
Aokiji closed his eyes and focused on the words of Kizaru. As he did so, the black glossy sheen of Haki continued spreading, covering his entire arm.
"That's it," Kizaru purred, eyes glowing green in what was almost a light of predator instinct. "You are getting it. This power will let you stand against any of the strongest around the world."
Aokiji opened his eyes and marveled at the sight of his arm sheathed in Haki. "It's... incredible," he breathed.
Kizaru smiled cryptically. "Oh, this is just the beginning, Kuzan-kun. Just the beginning."
As Aokiji went back to his training, his moves fiercer than before, Kizaru looked out toward the sea.
The serenity of the training ground was broken by the high-pitched cry of a Den Den Mushi. Kizaru's lazy smile disappeared as he picked up the call, his green eyes narrowing at what he heard.
"Ooooh, it seems we have some uninvited guests," Kizaru drawled, an undercurrent of excitement tingeing his voice. "The Rocks Pirates have been spotted somewhere close."
Akainu's fists clenched, magma churning under his skin. "Those bastards" he growled. "It's time we showed them the true might of the Marines."
Aokiji tensed as his newfound Haki fizzled across his skin. "Let me help," he insisted. "I'm ready."
The space was thick with tension when they were close enough to view the pirate ship. Kizaru's eyes focused on one figure in particular—Nyon, beautifully batted around against the brutality of the environment that surrounded her. Their eyes held only for a moment, and so much was conveyed unsaid.
Akainu placed a restrictive hand on Aokiji's shoulder. "Stay back," he ordered. "You're not ready for this level of combat."
Kizaru nodded. "Ooooh, Kuzan-kun, watch and learn. But remember, even we must… restrain ourselves at times."
The battle exploded with a violence that sent the sea rippling out in all directions as Akainu, a good deal more powerful than canon, charged directly at Whitebeard, their powers clashing and sending shockwaves across the sea.
Thus, Kizaru found himself pitted against the young, mighty, but powerful Kaido. "My, my," mused Kizaru as he dodged a thunderous blow with preternatural speed. "So much potential. It would be a shame to end it here, wouldn't it?"
Akainu and Kizaru was aware that they both needed to hold back as they fought. The future Kizaru had captured, destiny shaping, required these pirates to survive and grow in strength.
In the middle of it all, Akainu caught Kizaru's eye. A mute understanding passed between them. They could finish this now, reveal their true strength, but at what cost to the future they gingerly wanted made?
"Ooooh, Sakazuki," Kizaru called out, loud enough to be heard over the din of battle. "Remember our long-term goals."
Akainu grunted in acknowledgment as he visibly reined in his power, trading blows with Whitebeard.
Aokiji watched as he widened his eyes in pure amazement at it with an impression of fear. He could not imagine so much raw power.
As the battle continued in earnest, raw power crackled through the air. Kizaru moved with an elegance that suited his hulking frame, his yellow suit spotless despite the chaos around him. Kaido was young, impudent—already a force to be reckoned with—but struggled to keep up.
"Ooooh, you're quite the handful, aren't you?" Kizaru drawled, dodging another one of Kaido's earth-shattering blows with ease.
Kaido was gasping, though still smirking. "You... you're the greatest enemy I've ever seen," he replied, feeling frustration and admiration well up in his voice.
Kizaru's green irises flashed with an unnatural light. "My oh me—such high praise. Yet, young creature, I must ask if you understand the game we are playing here."
Kizaru manifested behind Kaido with a burst of speed that defied comprehension, his voice dropping to a soft, menacing whisper. "Ooooh, you should know, your crew only draws breath because I will it so. There are… plans in motion that require your continued existence."
Kaido's eyes widened, and he felt a shiver run down his spine despite the blaze of combat. "What… what do you mean?"
Kizaru laughed, his voice like a shattering crystal. "Now, now, that would be telling, wouldn't it? Let's just say, the future has need of monsters like you."
Not far away, Akainu was keeping Whitebeard at bay. The young pirate, already known for his incredible brawn, proved no match against the relentless Admiral.
"Gurarara," Whitebeard laughed, but something in that laughter was uneasy. "You Marines have been holding out on us, haven't you?"
Akainu's frown deepened. "You have no idea, old man. Consider this mercy."
Xebec, of course, watching all of this from the sidelines, felt this cold dread settle in his stomach. These Admirals, simply toyed with two of his best. The extent of their power hidden—both terrified and intrigued him.
"Captain," Shiki muttered, "we need to retreat. They're... they're not even trying."
Xebec nodded, his pride warring with his survival instinct. "All hands, fall back!" he bellowed. "We live to fight another day!"
Neither Kizaru nor Akainu moved to pursue as the Rocks Pirates began their retreat. Their eyes, filled with knowledge of things yet to come, watched the pirates with an unsettling intensity.
Nyon boarded last and turned to give Kizaru the last glance; their eyes locked on each other, ablaze with so many unsaid emotions and secrets of the Rocks Pirates.
As soon as the pirate ship disappeared from view, Aokiji approached his superiors, his eyes wide open in incomprehension—part awed, part confused.
"Admirals," he said hesitantly, "I don't understand. Why did we let them go?"
Kizaru turned his sun-silhouetted bulk to his protégé, adjusting his yellow tie loosely. "Kuzan-kun, the world's a stage, and we players are in just one grand performance. Some roles, well… take time to develop."
Akainu grunted in agreement. "The future demands sacrifice, Kuzan. Remember that."
And as they walked back toward base, Kizaru's mind was open to so many possibilities.
For weeks after the encounter with the Rocks Pirates, Kizaru and Akainu were mauled by attention. Their names were on every tongue from the busy streets of Marineford to the dingiest taverns of the New World.
Kizaru spent his time lounging in his office, somehow managing to be graceful despite his outsized frame squeezed into a yellow three-piece suit. He lazily paged through the latest newspaper. His green eyes were quirked up at the headlines, looking at them through an expression of amusement.
"Ooooh, Sakazuki," he drawled, peeking at his fellow Admiral. "Seems we're quite famous now. How. inconvenient."
Akainu scowled, magma bubbling beneath his skin. "Fame is a distraction, Borsalino. We have better things to do."
As they walked through the Marine Headquarters, whispers and awe-struck glances followed in their wake. Young recruits stumbled over themselves, eager to catch a glimpse of the Admirals who had sent the fearsome Rocks Pirates running.
"Admiral Kizaru! Admiral Akainu!" called a young ensign, his voice shaking in excitement. "Is it true you fought off the whole Rocks crew single-handedly?"
Kizaru's lazy smile grew wider. "Ooooh, now that would be quite the tale, wouldn't it? But you know how these stories tend to. grow in the telling."
Akainu grunted, his patience starting to wear thin. "Get back to your duties, ensign. We have no time for idle gossip."
Unbeknownst to the Admirals, their legend growing was having an unforeseen influence with their recent foes. Deep within a dark cave on a remote island, the Rocks Pirates tended to their wounds and plotted their vengeance.
Kaido slammed his fist onto the wall, creating a decent-sized crater. "We can't let this go! Our rep will shatter!"
Whitebeard, nursing a bruised ego and several broken ribs, nodded grimly. "Gurarara. Those Admirals made laughingstocks of us in the view of the world. We must show the world that the Rocks Pirates are still a force to be reckoned with."
Xebec leaned forward, light dancing, dangerous, in his eyes. "Patience, my friends. This setback is... unfortunate, but it does give us an opportunity. The world now watches these Admirals with bated breath. When we defeat them, our infamy will grow tenfold."
In Marineford, Kizaru had been standing on the balcony of his personal quarters, out overlooking the sea; The setting sun sent an unearthly light across the waves, similar to that light which flickered sometimes in his eyes.
"Ooooh, Sakazuki," he hummed, knowing that his fellow Admiral was near. "Do you feel it? The wheels of fate, turning ever faster."
Akainu joined him, his usual scowl deepening. "They'll come for us again. The Rocks. They won't be able to resist the challenge."
Kizaru smiled, enigmatic. "Indeed. And when they do, we'll be waiting. After all, every story needs its… antagonists."
Author's Notes: Remember to support me on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
"Again!" Akainu's voice cracked like a whip. "You think pirates will wait for you to catch your breath, boy?"
Kuzan, sweating profusely, nodded grimly and raised his hands. Ice crystals started forming in the air and began congealing into a gigantic wall. Akainu's magma-wreathed fist smashed right through it with ease that was terrifying to behold.
"Oooh, Sakazuki-kun," Kizaru drawled, carrying his voice clear across the training ground, "don't break our new toy just yet."
As Akainu turned to reply, Kizaru felt once more––that telltale tingling at the edge of his consciousness. The Force, as Rey had dubbed it, surged inside him, a stormy tempest barely contained within the bounds of his skin.
He had tamed it alone, this power beyond anything One Piece had ever known. Combined with abilities in light, awesome haki, and Lex's brain, it made him… unstoppable.
"Just checking him, he's need to be worth our time, Borsalino," Akainu growled, his eyes flashing back toward Kuzan. "Now, again!"
Kizaru's lips twisted upwards into his habitual lazy grin, but he was anything but relaxed inside. The Force had always whispered in his ear, glimpses of perhaps futures, of power beyond imagining. Sometimes it took all of his truly impressive willpower to keep the mask in place.
"Ooooh, I think our little ice cube is coming along quite nicely," Kizaru said, his voice pitched just loud enough for Kuzan to hear. "Maybe it's time for a little... light training."
Kuzan's eyes lit up at the prospect, but Akainu shook his head. "Not yet. He needs to learn endurance first."
As the training session progressed, Kizaru closed his eyes and reached out with his newest senses. He could feel the ebb and flow of energies around him—the burning intensity of Akainu, the determined chill of Kuzan—and beyond, that vast ocean of power that was the world itself.
With a thought, he could destroy them both. With a gesture, he could remold the very island they stood on. The power was intoxicating, terrifying in its scope.
But he held back.
"Oooh, I think that's enough for today," Kizaru said finally, his voice cutting through the sounds of combat. "Our little Kuzan looks about ready to melt."
Akainu grunted in agreement, and Kuzan sagged with relief. On their way back to the base, Kizaru hung back, his eyes far away.
"Is everything all right, Admiral Kizaru?" Kuzan asked, noting his distraction.
Kizaru had a really nice smile for purposes of hiding what one really meant. "Just fine, ice cube. Just… thinking about the future."
Turning away, the air itself about Kizaru would shimmer and ripple reality just ever so slightly. The world of One Piece held within it the greatest power to ever walk among Akainu and Kuzan, and of this, they had no idea.
In the dimmed lab, Dr. Vegapunk stood in the lengthening shadows of the hulking Admiral Kizaru. The latter's three-piece yellow suit seemed to shine with his marine cloak under the haunting light from the screens and monitors all around them.
"Ooooh, Doctor Vegapunk," crooned Kizaru, his green gaze glowing bright with intelligence, "I think it's time we should speed up our plans."
Dr. Vegapunk looked up from his workstation, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What do you mean, Admiral?"
Kizaru's lips curled into a smile that was equal parts charming and chilling. "We've been thinking too small, doctor. The Pacifista and The Death Star are just the beginning. What if we could advance our technology by… oh, let's say 500 years?"
Vegapunk's jaw dropped. "Five hundred years? But that's. that's impossible!"
"Impossible?" Kizaru chuckled, and once again, that small sound sent shivers down Vegapunk's spine. "My dear doctor, we live in a world of Devil Fruits and Haki. Impossible is just a word for the unimaginative."
Kizaru started pacing, his massive frame moving with a grace that was surprising for its size. "We start with energy. Imagine harnessing the power of Devil Fruits, not just for a few things, but whole cities at once. We could create clean, unlimited energy sources that would make even the most advanced nations look primitive."
Vegapunk nodded slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. "And transportation? Communications?"
"Exactly," purred Kizaru, "We develop ships that can sail underwater for months at a time, with materials that can keep up with the load of the deepest seas. Devices of communication that will send a message all around the world in a millisecond, using the very fibers of technology itself."
As Kizaru spoke, holographic projections in yellow burst to life about him, illustrating advanced weaponry, medical marvels, and impossible machines. Vegapunk's eyes grew wide at each new revelation. "But, Admiral," he whispered, "the cost… the resources needed…"
Kizaru's smile turned predatory. "Leave that to me, doctor. I have... certain powers that will ensure we have everything we need."
"We'll begin with small pilot projects," Kizaru went on, his voice taking on a near-hypnotic quality. "Testing our new technologies within controlled environments. Picture it: clean energy powering entire islands, advanced medical facilities capable of curing diseases previously thought incurable."
Vegapunk nodded fervently, caught up in the vision. "And the defense systems? The Marines would need to adapt at this rate of change."
"Oh yes," Kizaru chuckled, "we will revolutionize our defenses. Envision soldiers that could rival giants in strength and ships as airborne as they are seafaring, equipped with weapons that could partially nullify Devil Fruit powers at great distances.".
As the night ate on, Kizaru and Vegapunk were plotting and scheming in their conversation, their voices rising as the hours rolled by. They outlined research facilities, education programs, and implementation strategies that would recur. If One Piece was going to change how it worked, this would be how nobody could ever imagine.
As the first rays of dawn crept into the laboratory, the world welcomed a new future—a time when the lines between science and magic became synonymous, when the impossible became common, and the shift in power perpetual.
Kizaru stood up, extending his huge frame. "Well, doctor, I believe we have some work ahead. Shall we?"
Vegapunk nodded, a mix of excitement and trepidation in his eyes. "Yes, Admiral. Let us change the world."
As Kizaru strode out of the lab with Vegapunk, his yellow suit gleaming in the morning light, a cold smile played across his handsome features.
The air in Sengoku's office crackled with tension as Kizaru, Vegapunk, and Akainu stood before the Fleet Admiral. Sengoku's eyes, weary but sharp, scanned the document before him.
"This plan. It's ambitious beyond anything we've ever attempted," Sengoku muttered, his brow furrowed.
Kizaru's lazy smile belied the steel in his green eyes. "Ooooh, Fleet Admiral, you have no idea how ambitious it truly is."
With a wave of his hand, casual as brushing away a fly, Kizaru sent Sengoku's desk floating gently into the air. Akainu's eyes widened, his fists clenching instinctively. Vegapunk stumbled back, his mouth agape.
"What… what is this?" Akainu growled, magma bubbling beneath his skin.
Kizaru's chuckle was low and dangerous. "This, my dear colleagues, is the key to our success. The Force, a power beyond anything our world has ever known."
Over the course of the following hour, Kizaru demonstrated abilities so profound as to defy comprehension. He conjured matter from thin air, manipulated time and space, and even briefly lifted the veil between dimensions.
With this power," Kizaru drawled, his voice oddly serious, "our plan isn't just possible. It's inevitable."
Sengoku leaned back in his chair, his mind whirling with the implications. "Borsalino... how long have you had this power?"
Kizaru's smile was enigmatic. "Ooooh, long enough to know its potential. And long enough to know we need to use it carefully."
Vegapunk, ever the scientist, was already scribbling notes. "The applications are endless. With this, we could create any resource we need, solve any logistical problem."
Akainu's eyes narrowed. "And what's to stop you from using this power to take control yourself, Kizaru?"
The room was once again filled with laughter, this time ice-cold and crawling on their skin. "My dear Sakazuki, if I wanted governing to be mine, none of you would be able to hinder my path. But that's not my goal. I want to see our world evolve, to reach heights undreamed of. And for that, I need every one of you."
Sengoku stood. He decided on a course of action. "Fine. The plan is set in motion. But Borsalino, this power of yours. It stays between us. The world isn't ready to know of it."
As they went out of Sengoku's office, already making plans, Kizaru hung back. His eyes shone like lamps lit from within as he gazed out across Marineford.
In the course of the next few decades, the world would change beyond anything anyone could ever have envisioned. Islands rising from the ocean. Technology leaping forward by centuries. And power wouldn't just shift easily; it would blow away like sand in a storm. And through it all, crouched at the very epicenter of everything with his fingers gently tugging at the strings, would be a figure who held within his hands the very power of creation—Admiral Kizaru.
The future was bright, blinding even. And Kizaru had every intention to shape it in impossible acts, one at a time.
The training grounds of Marineford resounded with clashing steel and grunts of effort. At the very center stood Kuzan, not yet known as Aokiji, his lanky frame slick with sweat as he faced off against a barrage of training dummies.
Kizaru lounged some ways away, his muscular form draped elegantly in his yellow three-piece suit and marine cape jacket. His green eyes gleamed with interest as he watched the progress of his protégé.
"Ooooh, Kuzan-kun," Kizaru called out lazily across the field. "You're getting closer. Can you feel it?"
Aokiji gritted his teeth, focusing on his outstretched hand. For a moment nothing happened. Then as frost creeps slowly along a window pane, a faint black sheen began to spread over his fingers.
"I… I've got it!" exclaimed the normally laconic Kuzan, suddenly excited.
Kizaru smiled languidly. "Good, good, very good indeed. Now lets see you use it, shall we?"
Kizaru sent a light ray with a careless flick of his wrist in Aokiji's direction. It felt like time slowed as the young marine-focused, uttering the will to let the fledgling Haki spread further.
The beam struck the partially armored hand and caused it to scatter in a shower of sparks. Aokiji rocked backward with a wincing expression but remained standing.
"Ooooh, not bad at all," Kizaru mused, his tone a mix of pride and amusement. "You're learning faster than I had expected."
Akainu watched from the side, scowl deepening. "He's still too soft," the hot-headed marine growled. "You need to push him harder, Borsalino."
Kizaru turned his pointed gaze on Akainu. "Now, now, Sakazuki. We each have our ways of teaching. And mine, as you can see, are working out well."
Kizaru approached Aokiji, walking with a peculiar mix of grace and laziness that belied the coiled power he had within. He laid his hand on the shoulder of the young marine, and Aokiji felt a strange warmth flow through him.
"'Ah, the key, my dear Kuzan; first imagine your will as an unbreakable shield. Let it flow through you, around you—becoming an extension of yourself,'" Kizaru said in a low pitch before continuing in a half-whisper.
Aokiji closed his eyes and focused on the words of Kizaru. As he did so, the black glossy sheen of Haki continued spreading, covering his entire arm.
"That's it," Kizaru purred, eyes glowing green in what was almost a light of predator instinct. "You are getting it. This power will let you stand against any of the strongest around the world."
Aokiji opened his eyes and marveled at the sight of his arm sheathed in Haki. "It's... incredible," he breathed.
Kizaru smiled cryptically. "Oh, this is just the beginning, Kuzan-kun. Just the beginning."
As Aokiji went back to his training, his moves fiercer than before, Kizaru looked out toward the sea.
The serenity of the training ground was broken by the high-pitched cry of a Den Den Mushi. Kizaru's lazy smile disappeared as he picked up the call, his green eyes narrowing at what he heard.
"Ooooh, it seems we have some uninvited guests," Kizaru drawled, an undercurrent of excitement tingeing his voice. "The Rocks Pirates have been spotted somewhere close."
Akainu's fists clenched, magma churning under his skin. "Those bastards" he growled. "It's time we showed them the true might of the Marines."
Aokiji tensed as his newfound Haki fizzled across his skin. "Let me help," he insisted. "I'm ready."
The space was thick with tension when they were close enough to view the pirate ship. Kizaru's eyes focused on one figure in particular—Nyon, beautifully batted around against the brutality of the environment that surrounded her. Their eyes held only for a moment, and so much was conveyed unsaid.
Akainu placed a restrictive hand on Aokiji's shoulder. "Stay back," he ordered. "You're not ready for this level of combat."
Kizaru nodded. "Ooooh, Kuzan-kun, watch and learn. But remember, even we must… restrain ourselves at times."
The battle exploded with a violence that sent the sea rippling out in all directions as Akainu, a good deal more powerful than canon, charged directly at Whitebeard, their powers clashing and sending shockwaves across the sea.
Thus, Kizaru found himself pitted against the young, mighty, but powerful Kaido. "My, my," mused Kizaru as he dodged a thunderous blow with preternatural speed. "So much potential. It would be a shame to end it here, wouldn't it?"
Akainu and Kizaru was aware that they both needed to hold back as they fought. The future Kizaru had captured, destiny shaping, required these pirates to survive and grow in strength.
In the middle of it all, Akainu caught Kizaru's eye. A mute understanding passed between them. They could finish this now, reveal their true strength, but at what cost to the future they gingerly wanted made?
"Ooooh, Sakazuki," Kizaru called out, loud enough to be heard over the din of battle. "Remember our long-term goals."
Akainu grunted in acknowledgment as he visibly reined in his power, trading blows with Whitebeard.
Aokiji watched as he widened his eyes in pure amazement at it with an impression of fear. He could not imagine so much raw power.
As the battle continued in earnest, raw power crackled through the air. Kizaru moved with an elegance that suited his hulking frame, his yellow suit spotless despite the chaos around him. Kaido was young, impudent—already a force to be reckoned with—but struggled to keep up.
"Ooooh, you're quite the handful, aren't you?" Kizaru drawled, dodging another one of Kaido's earth-shattering blows with ease.
Kaido was gasping, though still smirking. "You... you're the greatest enemy I've ever seen," he replied, feeling frustration and admiration well up in his voice.
Kizaru's green irises flashed with an unnatural light. "My oh me—such high praise. Yet, young creature, I must ask if you understand the game we are playing here."
Kizaru manifested behind Kaido with a burst of speed that defied comprehension, his voice dropping to a soft, menacing whisper. "Ooooh, you should know, your crew only draws breath because I will it so. There are… plans in motion that require your continued existence."
Kaido's eyes widened, and he felt a shiver run down his spine despite the blaze of combat. "What… what do you mean?"
Kizaru laughed, his voice like a shattering crystal. "Now, now, that would be telling, wouldn't it? Let's just say, the future has need of monsters like you."
Not far away, Akainu was keeping Whitebeard at bay. The young pirate, already known for his incredible brawn, proved no match against the relentless Admiral.
"Gurarara," Whitebeard laughed, but something in that laughter was uneasy. "You Marines have been holding out on us, haven't you?"
Akainu's frown deepened. "You have no idea, old man. Consider this mercy."
Xebec, of course, watching all of this from the sidelines, felt this cold dread settle in his stomach. These Admirals, simply toyed with two of his best. The extent of their power hidden—both terrified and intrigued him.
"Captain," Shiki muttered, "we need to retreat. They're... they're not even trying."
Xebec nodded, his pride warring with his survival instinct. "All hands, fall back!" he bellowed. "We live to fight another day!"
Neither Kizaru nor Akainu moved to pursue as the Rocks Pirates began their retreat. Their eyes, filled with knowledge of things yet to come, watched the pirates with an unsettling intensity.
Nyon boarded last and turned to give Kizaru the last glance; their eyes locked on each other, ablaze with so many unsaid emotions and secrets of the Rocks Pirates.
As soon as the pirate ship disappeared from view, Aokiji approached his superiors, his eyes wide open in incomprehension—part awed, part confused.
"Admirals," he said hesitantly, "I don't understand. Why did we let them go?"
Kizaru turned his sun-silhouetted bulk to his protégé, adjusting his yellow tie loosely. "Kuzan-kun, the world's a stage, and we players are in just one grand performance. Some roles, well… take time to develop."
Akainu grunted in agreement. "The future demands sacrifice, Kuzan. Remember that."
And as they walked back toward base, Kizaru's mind was open to so many possibilities.
For weeks after the encounter with the Rocks Pirates, Kizaru and Akainu were mauled by attention. Their names were on every tongue from the busy streets of Marineford to the dingiest taverns of the New World.
Kizaru spent his time lounging in his office, somehow managing to be graceful despite his outsized frame squeezed into a yellow three-piece suit. He lazily paged through the latest newspaper. His green eyes were quirked up at the headlines, looking at them through an expression of amusement.
"Ooooh, Sakazuki," he drawled, peeking at his fellow Admiral. "Seems we're quite famous now. How. inconvenient."
Akainu scowled, magma bubbling beneath his skin. "Fame is a distraction, Borsalino. We have better things to do."
As they walked through the Marine Headquarters, whispers and awe-struck glances followed in their wake. Young recruits stumbled over themselves, eager to catch a glimpse of the Admirals who had sent the fearsome Rocks Pirates running.
"Admiral Kizaru! Admiral Akainu!" called a young ensign, his voice shaking in excitement. "Is it true you fought off the whole Rocks crew single-handedly?"
Kizaru's lazy smile grew wider. "Ooooh, now that would be quite the tale, wouldn't it? But you know how these stories tend to. grow in the telling."
Akainu grunted, his patience starting to wear thin. "Get back to your duties, ensign. We have no time for idle gossip."
Unbeknownst to the Admirals, their legend growing was having an unforeseen influence with their recent foes. Deep within a dark cave on a remote island, the Rocks Pirates tended to their wounds and plotted their vengeance.
Kaido slammed his fist onto the wall, creating a decent-sized crater. "We can't let this go! Our rep will shatter!"
Whitebeard, nursing a bruised ego and several broken ribs, nodded grimly. "Gurarara. Those Admirals made laughingstocks of us in the view of the world. We must show the world that the Rocks Pirates are still a force to be reckoned with."
Xebec leaned forward, light dancing, dangerous, in his eyes. "Patience, my friends. This setback is... unfortunate, but it does give us an opportunity. The world now watches these Admirals with bated breath. When we defeat them, our infamy will grow tenfold."
In Marineford, Kizaru had been standing on the balcony of his personal quarters, out overlooking the sea; The setting sun sent an unearthly light across the waves, similar to that light which flickered sometimes in his eyes.
"Ooooh, Sakazuki," he hummed, knowing that his fellow Admiral was near. "Do you feel it? The wheels of fate, turning ever faster."
Akainu joined him, his usual scowl deepening. "They'll come for us again. The Rocks. They won't be able to resist the challenge."
Kizaru smiled, enigmatic. "Indeed. And when they do, we'll be waiting. After all, every story needs its… antagonists."
Author's Notes: Remember to support me on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
The Ascension of Titans
Kizaru, now 26, towers over the shore in a tall, hulky figure, wrapped in his impeccable yellow three-piece, a Marine cloak fluttering behind him. His fine features contrast with the brutality of power that hides just beneath the surface.
"Sakazuki, my friend," Kizaru's deep voice resonated as he spoke towards his best friend and fellow Admiral, a 23-year-old Akainu.
"Can you believe it's been three years since we started molding young Kuzan?"
"Time flies when you're forging the future of justice, Borsalino. But tell me, has your… unique style in training paid off?"
Kizaru laughed, and it really was a laugh that made the spines of their subordinates in range gel with goosebumps. "Oh, you have no idea, Sakazuki. The Force has opened up possibilities I never dared dream about."
And sure enough, there floated a crate, floating in mid-air, no support holding it up, just the plain old force of will of Kizaru. He had acquired an extra new power: a template of Goku from The Return of Cooler. Of course, this was a lot cheaper compared to getting the mainstream Goku. Kizaru would just have to work from the bottom up with this man's abilities. Skipped over the fact that he had the Force and Luthor's brains, it would be a purchasing steal to get him up to par with the mainstream Goku.
Young Kuzan stood before them, his eyes hardened by three years of grueling training.
"Admirals," he said, his voice steady, "I'm ready for whatever challenge you have prepared."
Kizaru smiled. Somehow only his face was smiling as his eyes certainly were not. "Brilliant, Kuzan. Your final test starts today. Sakazuki, shall we begin?"
What followed was an exercise in power, to say the least. Akainu's magma collided with Kuzan's ice, and from there, Kizaru's use of light and Force made everything all the more uncontrollable.
"Show it, Kuzan!" Kizaru taunted as if they were caught within some other, world-borne reverb. "Exhibit the fruit of our labors!"
Gritting against his very teeth, Kuzan pushed through his limits. "I won't fail you, Admirals!"
Many calls followed as the dust settled. Complete, totally battered yet wholly unbroken, Kuzan stood tall. Kizaru and Akainu glanced grimly at each other.
"Well done, Kuzan," Kizaru commented with a touch of pride and something else darker in his tone. "You've earned your place among us."
Akainu had very firm nods in disposition; a fire, which was apparent in his eyes, gave his welcome to the newly appointed Admiral Kuzan. "Welcome to the ranks, Admiral Kuzan. May your ice freeze the hearts of those who oppose absolute justice. We'll just have to run it through Sengoku and the World Government, but they should agree."
Later, when Kuzan finally clad himself into the coat of an Admiral, the chill that ran down his spine was not due to the cold of his power of ice.
He observed his mentors: Kizaru, who had the abilities of the Force and hid power similar to those of Goku, and Akainu, unbeatable in his determination to never deviate from his candidacy. "Thanks, Admirals," Kuzan muttered under his breath. "I won't forget the lessons you've taught me."
Kizaru's laughter was ominous. "We know you won't, Kuzan. After all, the way of justice is paved on the bones of the weak, isn't that right, Sakazuki?"
The three Admirals now stood together, the air about them crackling with such power and menace. The Marines have acquired a new Admiral, but at what cost will this be for them?
The tailor's hands trembled as he measured Kuzan's hulking frame. The young admiral's muscles were now bulging out of the small portions of his original marine uniform, which he had been wearing since he had started training with Kizaru and Akainu. Kuzan, once full of brilliant dreams, now held an icy reflection in his eyes.
"Take it easy, old man," Kuzan chuckled. Still, there was an edge in his voice that had the tailor flinching. "I want this suit to strike fear into the hearts of pirates, not come apart at the seams."
Across the room, Kizaru lounged with all the casualness of the young god he was, his handsome features twisted into an almost predatory smirk. He exuded an aura of power that seemed to warp the very air around him. Beside him, the Akainu stood rigid, his eyes burning with barely contained fury.
"So, gentlemen," Kizaru drawled, his voice dripping with false sweetness, "shall we discuss our… extracurricular activities?"
Akainu's lips grinned ferally, "I've been working on new ways to….dispose of pirate scum. Ever wonder how long it takes for a man to melt from the inside out?"
Kuzan moved away from the tailor, who had very quickly gone as pale as the snow he used, and interjected casually, his voice tinged with just a hint of bone-cold chill, "Interesting. I've found that flash-freezing their blood creates the best expressions of terror."
Kizaru clapped his hands together, the boom echoing like a gunshot. "Oh, you boys make me oh so proud. But why stop there? I've been using my... unique abilities to toy with their minds before ending them. The screams are simply delightful."
The three Admirals shared a laugh that would have sent shivers down the spine of any sane person. Casual talk of torture and murder bordered on psychopathy, an epitome of how little they truly cared about Pirates. Hunting & killing them for so long had started to affect their view on general people other than the important Marines and the characters that Kizaru deemed important. He had let Kuzan in on his secret about seeing future events and why certain people must live and die.
In the end, they only cared about the ends to uphold Absolute Justice.
The tailor couldn't help but overhear the monstrous conversation as his crappy hands finished with his work, shaking so bad the needle could hardly go through the cloth. He was aware that any kind of reaction or disgust would only lead the three Admirals to speak up and could probably cause his certain demise in that moment. They were that scary he believed he could die to them despite otherwise.
Kuzan surveyed his reflection, in the new suit, now tailored snugly to his bulky frame. "Nice work. You get to live today." Kuzan messed with the poor tailor
The tailor ran away at full speed to in which he thought to live that day, but the three Admirals beheld together an awful vision of corrupted power.
"So, my friends," Kizaru said, looking amusedly at them all, his handsome face twisted into a mask of cruel amusement, "shall we test that out in practice? I heard something about a piratical crew in the East Blue."
Akainu's eyes gleamed, cruel and eager. "Lead on, old friend. Let's go mete out some 'justice'."
Fully fallen to the darkness that had taken him, Kuzan nodded his agreement. "Give these pirates a taste of the real terror."
Sailing through the water of East Blue was a battleship, with horror being delivered to its destination. Standing on the bow were three figures who would soon be a nightmare for pirates all over the world.
Kizaru looked at the horizon, his eyes the flame of Arcan, glaring. "I can almost taste their fear," he chuckled, his eyes glowing in the dark, twisting his face into a wicked grin.
Akainu, with barely held control, let all his contained fury seethe forth. "These vermin have infested these waters for too long," he growled, magma dripping from his clenched fists.
Kuzan, the youngest of them all, felt something run down his spine—not from fear but anticipation. "Again," he pushed it with a low, eager voice, "tell me about the time you made the Rocks flee."
Kizaru let out a laugh that boomed across the waves. "Oh, young one, it was a day to remember for all time. Sakazuki and I were going to show them the true meaning of terror."
"We held back because of their importance in the story. But even Xebec himself couldn't stand against us," Akainu's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure at the memory.
As they got closer to the pirate ship, Admiral Kizaru turned to Kuzan. "Today you'll earn your place among us. Show us what you've learned."
Kuzan nodded, and his eyes hardened. "I won't disappoint."
And apocalyptic grew the dawn that followed. Light pierced through the ship's hull like an arrow, and molten rock blew the sails ablaze. It all happened when Kuzan released the final blow, when he sealed terror and destruction deep within the heart of every other crew member, freezing every single one of them into a mask of pure horror. End.
As the frozen pirates shattered into a thousand pieces, Kizaru placed a hand on Kuzan's shoulder. "Well done, my boy. I think it's time you had a name worthy of your deeds."
Akainu nodded in agreement. "From this day forward, you shall be known as Aokiji, the Blue Pheasant."
Kuzan—now Aokiji—felt a surge of pride and something darker. "Thank you, my mentors. I'll wear this name with honor."
As they sailed off from the carnage, leaving the floating ice and charred wreckage alone, Kizaru mused, "This is but the beginning, boys. The world will tremble at the mention of our names."
With eyes that burned with incredibly fanatical zeal, Akainu offered up, "We'll purge this world of the pirate scourge—one crew at a time."
And Aokiji, having fully embraced this new identity, added with chilling calmness, "And we'll enjoy every moment of it."
Their laughter seemed to echo across the sea, a promise of the horrors yet to come. And the legend of Kizaru, Akainu, and now Aokiji; a tale etched onto the very foundation of the world of One Piece, never to be forgotten.
Dr. Vegapunk was hunched over his workbench amidst a field of bizarre contraptions and glowing screens.
"Ooooh, Vegapunk-san." Kizaru drawled, his voice a decided contrast to his imposing physique. "What delicious toys have you dreamed up for us today?"
Vegapunk stood upright at the address, glaring madly through his eyes. "Ah, Admiral Kizaru! You are just in time. I have breakthroughs that will revolutionize the world."
"Submarine ships, Admiral," gushed Vegapunk, pointing at a holographic display. "Think of our forces striking from the depths, unseen and unheard."
That handsome face of Kizaru split into a grin. "Scaaaary~ But tell me, what about my little light show? Any use for that?"
Vegapunk's laugh bordered on maniacal. "Your Devil Fruit? Oh, it's the key to unlimited energy! We could power entire cities with just a fraction of your power."
The laboratory door opened again, admitting Fleet Admiral Sengoku. His imposing presence seemed to dim the room's lights.
"Gentlemen," Sengoku's voice rumbled, "I hear you have something... ambitious to propose."
The one named Kizaru had an innate sparkle to the eyes, as if reflecting an unnatural light. "Ooooh, Sengoku-san, you won't believe what Vegapunk-san has cooked up. Tell him, doctor."
Vegapunk tapped a few keys, and an enormous hologram (not from Kizaru's light) blinked into existence, showing a floating city that seemed to be suspended away from the laws of physics. "Behold, gentlemen. A city in the sky, a beacon of Marine might and technological supremacy."
"Nothing's impossible now, Sengoku-san~" chortled Kizaru; it was strange hearing such a casual tone from a man hinting at such gravity. "Hmm? Just imagine—this whole city up in the air, hovering above the world—monitoring it, Vegapunk-san?"
"Coruscant," Vegapunk breathed aloud, on near-sacred ground. "A country from legends."
Sengoku actually turned slightly pale; it was subtle. "Who shall lead this country?"
Kizaru's grin expands, contorting into a predatorial gleam. "Why, I volunteer, of course~ Who better to rule a city of light than the man-made of it?"
As the three men looked down upon the hologram, bathed in the glow it cast throughout the room, the air seemed to crackle with potential and danger.
"With this," Vegapunk breathed, "this city will be the safest city in the world. No pirate, no revolutionary to ever set foot in this city."
Kizaru laughed, a vile sound that just might make the average man shiver before he could stop himself. "Ooooh, I just can't wait to see their faces when we unveil our little surprise~"
Sengoku nodded rather gravely. "Very well, Borsalino. The sky city project is yours to head. May the heavens help us all."
The hologram cast long, twisted shadows across the room as they continued the back-and-forth.
A new era began in the world of One Piece as Vegapunk's and Kizaru's revolutionary ideas came to life. Seas that were bulging with pirate power not so long ago now cracked with tremors under the weight of such advanced Marine technology and armament.
Specialist Marine submarines, crewed by very highly trained officers, combed the oceanic deep for pirates to be caught en masse. Such stealthy vessels, equipped with the latest in technology, could just rise above the surface and catch a group of pirates unaware.
The most notable development of the Marine arsenal, in this regard, was the weapons designed to erase the powers of devil fruits immediately. These weapons worked via an armament haki, through which on activation, a spiritual energy shield is activated, making it neutral in its receptivity to devil fruit energies. Not reducing them to zero, these weapons neutralized the capabilities that Devil fruit users previously possessed, which were therefore claimed to be insurmountable in advantage for their non-Devil fruit using counterparts.
Bursting with simultaneous genius from Vegapunk and Kizaru, ways were found around energy and power by innovative ways to make use of the power of Devil Fruits towards technological advancement. The fruit found most interesting was the Op-Op Fruit, secretly known as the "Ultimate Devil Fruit," having spatial manipulation potential. It has recognized the birth of powerful energy sources that have never been heard of before in the Marines.
The furthest, the most advanced, by Kizaru and Vegapunk into the new realm of technology was the formation of its physical manifestation; as a giant mountain, it was piloted by elite Marines referred to as a Death Star. That massive battle station, which could roam over vastness and inspire fear into the pirates. The most terrible thing about it was that, with all its superlaser power, it was capable of sending into nothingness not just ships but entire islands, burning them alive.
These all combined made quite a difference and dramatically reduced the activities of the pirates. Happy-go-lucky pirate crews now scampered amid the shadows with diminished numbers, and the sea that once served as the playground for those free-spirited buccaneers was now firmly held in the tight grasp of the Marines.
And when piracy began to decay, so did a new world order began to emerge. It is in this epoch that an increase in the presence of the Marines in the waters and advanced technology changed faith in maritime trade and politics of the globe. But this deformed balance of power questioned freedom and security on the high seas.
While the world rejoiced in the apparent witching hour for gadabout buccaneers, within the admirably few, such as the young Admiral Aokiji, questions began to form about its cost. The power now vested in these Marines was like nothing that had ever existed, and surely, it could hold potential for devastating misuse.
Kizaru, Akainu, and Aokiji were the symbolic leading men of this new world order, with an unsettled outlook towards the future. The problem with the pirates was all but eliminated, yet fresh obstacles arose ahead. The world of One Piece was now, forever, changed, yet time had yet to birth the truth of the matter, if this change was to be significant–or better.
Kizaru stood on the highest stage of this floating marvel that was Coruscant, his hulking form chiseled against the falling sun. Dozens of city winds tore through his yellow three-piece suit and marine cloak, yet he did not flinch; a tower of thunder overlooking his glorious vision.
"Ooooh, it's coming along nicely, isn't it?" Kizaru drawled, not sliding an inch down from his chilled-out persona, which was at odds with the very idea of the situation. Below him, the construction drones and workers scurried about, bringing to life the technological nirvana he had envisioned. The latest was a young Marine officer, who approached with a smart salute. "Admiral Kizaru, sir! The latest reports show that pirate activity has decreased by 98% worldwide."
Kizaru's handsome face split into a grin. "Scaaaary~ Those pesky pirates must be shaking in their boots."
Pouring all the wit he had, he commented before walking off, "Roger, Roger, Roger. What chaos will your death bring?" and fantasized about a man sitting in a cell somewhere awaiting an execution that would shake the world.
That evening, he met with his fellow Admirals in a secure chamber inside Coruscant. His best friend and confidant, Akainu, paced across the room like some caged beast as usual.
"Is the future really worth keeping The Rocks alive and Roger alive?" Akainu growled, magma dripping from his clenched fists. "Crush the remaining pirates while they're weak!"
Aokiji, their young protege, spoke up uncertainly. "But is this really the right thing to do? The timing is everything, maybe it is better to wait for the future."
Kizaru leaned back in his chair, his eyes shining with a light not quite normal. "Ooooh, such serious faces. But tell me, what if I told you that Roger getting a public execution is exactly what the future needs?"
Akainu froze, his eyes narrowing, knowing exactly where this was leading but making a gesture to continue. "Are you saying what I think your saying, Borsalino?"
Kizaru only nodded, this time lowering his voice and speaking in a tone rather uncharacteristically serious, "I've seen it, friends. What Roger's death will bring, a great era of pirates, chaos, and destruction, but also key to unimaginable victory for us."
Aokiji's eyes went really wide in pure shock. "You surely are not speaking the truth, right?"
Kizaru laughed, his voice echoing through the chamber like a chilling scream, sending shivers down his companions' spines. "Suppose I say my light could pierce more than just darkness. We always have to wait for events to come to us no matter how much it hurts; it's the only way we're going to entirely end this pirate scourge for good."
Akainu and Aokiji nodded at the wisdom imparted by Kizaru.
As Kizaru took a breath on his floating paradise, everything felt heavy in terrible knowledge. Untold suffering would be coming in the years despite how small it was now, but he knew it was necessary. He only muttered, "For the greater good," to the words lost in the wind.
The sea boiled yuckily underneath the Marine battleship, its massy silhouette a bad harbinger for any pirate unlucky enough to find it crossing his path. Three men stood on the deck — massive figures whose sheer presence was enough to make the blood run cold in even the hardest of felons. Hulking in stature, Admiral Kizaru was coolly dressed in a yellow three-piece suit over his marine attire; he leaned casually against the railing. His voice, despite his intimidating figure, remained as lazy and drawling as ever. "Ooooh, looks like our little mice are scurrying about again~"
Standing beside him, the young Admiral Akainu clenched his fists, magma seeping between his fingers. "I really wish you could allow me to put an end to this farce once and for all, Borsalino. The Rocks Pirates have bugged us long enough." "Patience, Sakazuki. We must play our parts, as distasteful as they may be," the third figure, Admiral Aokiji, though young himself, was of an ice-cold demeanour.
Kizaru's laugh seemed to hurtle through the air of the deck and was something that, in a sane man, would certainly make the blood curdle. "Now, now, guys. Let's not forget our little game. We mustn't spoil the fun too soon~"
Then, right on time, the mist had opened to expose a pirate ship, along with a black flag and a notorious emblem symbolizing the Rocks Pirates. The deck was full of battle-hardened criminals, each formidable on their own. "Ararara," Aokiji sighed, frost beginning to form around his feet. "Here we go again."
The grin on Kizaru's face widened, his eyes turning more predatory. "Ooooh, never do they learn, do they? Shall we give them a proper Marine welcome?"
The ensuing battle was one of ordered, complex ballets of pandemonium, as a trio of Admirals—individuals who had been subduing the full expression of their monstrous powers—played games with the Rocks Pirates like a cat with its food.
Author's Notes: Remember to support me on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
"Sakazuki, my friend," Kizaru's deep voice resonated as he spoke towards his best friend and fellow Admiral, a 23-year-old Akainu.
"Can you believe it's been three years since we started molding young Kuzan?"
"Time flies when you're forging the future of justice, Borsalino. But tell me, has your… unique style in training paid off?"
Kizaru laughed, and it really was a laugh that made the spines of their subordinates in range gel with goosebumps. "Oh, you have no idea, Sakazuki. The Force has opened up possibilities I never dared dream about."
And sure enough, there floated a crate, floating in mid-air, no support holding it up, just the plain old force of will of Kizaru. He had acquired an extra new power: a template of Goku from The Return of Cooler. Of course, this was a lot cheaper compared to getting the mainstream Goku. Kizaru would just have to work from the bottom up with this man's abilities. Skipped over the fact that he had the Force and Luthor's brains, it would be a purchasing steal to get him up to par with the mainstream Goku.
Young Kuzan stood before them, his eyes hardened by three years of grueling training.
"Admirals," he said, his voice steady, "I'm ready for whatever challenge you have prepared."
Kizaru smiled. Somehow only his face was smiling as his eyes certainly were not. "Brilliant, Kuzan. Your final test starts today. Sakazuki, shall we begin?"
What followed was an exercise in power, to say the least. Akainu's magma collided with Kuzan's ice, and from there, Kizaru's use of light and Force made everything all the more uncontrollable.
"Show it, Kuzan!" Kizaru taunted as if they were caught within some other, world-borne reverb. "Exhibit the fruit of our labors!"
Gritting against his very teeth, Kuzan pushed through his limits. "I won't fail you, Admirals!"
Many calls followed as the dust settled. Complete, totally battered yet wholly unbroken, Kuzan stood tall. Kizaru and Akainu glanced grimly at each other.
"Well done, Kuzan," Kizaru commented with a touch of pride and something else darker in his tone. "You've earned your place among us."
Akainu had very firm nods in disposition; a fire, which was apparent in his eyes, gave his welcome to the newly appointed Admiral Kuzan. "Welcome to the ranks, Admiral Kuzan. May your ice freeze the hearts of those who oppose absolute justice. We'll just have to run it through Sengoku and the World Government, but they should agree."
Later, when Kuzan finally clad himself into the coat of an Admiral, the chill that ran down his spine was not due to the cold of his power of ice.
He observed his mentors: Kizaru, who had the abilities of the Force and hid power similar to those of Goku, and Akainu, unbeatable in his determination to never deviate from his candidacy. "Thanks, Admirals," Kuzan muttered under his breath. "I won't forget the lessons you've taught me."
Kizaru's laughter was ominous. "We know you won't, Kuzan. After all, the way of justice is paved on the bones of the weak, isn't that right, Sakazuki?"
The three Admirals now stood together, the air about them crackling with such power and menace. The Marines have acquired a new Admiral, but at what cost will this be for them?
The tailor's hands trembled as he measured Kuzan's hulking frame. The young admiral's muscles were now bulging out of the small portions of his original marine uniform, which he had been wearing since he had started training with Kizaru and Akainu. Kuzan, once full of brilliant dreams, now held an icy reflection in his eyes.
"Take it easy, old man," Kuzan chuckled. Still, there was an edge in his voice that had the tailor flinching. "I want this suit to strike fear into the hearts of pirates, not come apart at the seams."
Across the room, Kizaru lounged with all the casualness of the young god he was, his handsome features twisted into an almost predatory smirk. He exuded an aura of power that seemed to warp the very air around him. Beside him, the Akainu stood rigid, his eyes burning with barely contained fury.
"So, gentlemen," Kizaru drawled, his voice dripping with false sweetness, "shall we discuss our… extracurricular activities?"
Akainu's lips grinned ferally, "I've been working on new ways to….dispose of pirate scum. Ever wonder how long it takes for a man to melt from the inside out?"
Kuzan moved away from the tailor, who had very quickly gone as pale as the snow he used, and interjected casually, his voice tinged with just a hint of bone-cold chill, "Interesting. I've found that flash-freezing their blood creates the best expressions of terror."
Kizaru clapped his hands together, the boom echoing like a gunshot. "Oh, you boys make me oh so proud. But why stop there? I've been using my... unique abilities to toy with their minds before ending them. The screams are simply delightful."
The three Admirals shared a laugh that would have sent shivers down the spine of any sane person. Casual talk of torture and murder bordered on psychopathy, an epitome of how little they truly cared about Pirates. Hunting & killing them for so long had started to affect their view on general people other than the important Marines and the characters that Kizaru deemed important. He had let Kuzan in on his secret about seeing future events and why certain people must live and die.
In the end, they only cared about the ends to uphold Absolute Justice.
The tailor couldn't help but overhear the monstrous conversation as his crappy hands finished with his work, shaking so bad the needle could hardly go through the cloth. He was aware that any kind of reaction or disgust would only lead the three Admirals to speak up and could probably cause his certain demise in that moment. They were that scary he believed he could die to them despite otherwise.
Kuzan surveyed his reflection, in the new suit, now tailored snugly to his bulky frame. "Nice work. You get to live today." Kuzan messed with the poor tailor
The tailor ran away at full speed to in which he thought to live that day, but the three Admirals beheld together an awful vision of corrupted power.
"So, my friends," Kizaru said, looking amusedly at them all, his handsome face twisted into a mask of cruel amusement, "shall we test that out in practice? I heard something about a piratical crew in the East Blue."
Akainu's eyes gleamed, cruel and eager. "Lead on, old friend. Let's go mete out some 'justice'."
Fully fallen to the darkness that had taken him, Kuzan nodded his agreement. "Give these pirates a taste of the real terror."
Sailing through the water of East Blue was a battleship, with horror being delivered to its destination. Standing on the bow were three figures who would soon be a nightmare for pirates all over the world.
Kizaru looked at the horizon, his eyes the flame of Arcan, glaring. "I can almost taste their fear," he chuckled, his eyes glowing in the dark, twisting his face into a wicked grin.
Akainu, with barely held control, let all his contained fury seethe forth. "These vermin have infested these waters for too long," he growled, magma dripping from his clenched fists.
Kuzan, the youngest of them all, felt something run down his spine—not from fear but anticipation. "Again," he pushed it with a low, eager voice, "tell me about the time you made the Rocks flee."
Kizaru let out a laugh that boomed across the waves. "Oh, young one, it was a day to remember for all time. Sakazuki and I were going to show them the true meaning of terror."
"We held back because of their importance in the story. But even Xebec himself couldn't stand against us," Akainu's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure at the memory.
As they got closer to the pirate ship, Admiral Kizaru turned to Kuzan. "Today you'll earn your place among us. Show us what you've learned."
Kuzan nodded, and his eyes hardened. "I won't disappoint."
And apocalyptic grew the dawn that followed. Light pierced through the ship's hull like an arrow, and molten rock blew the sails ablaze. It all happened when Kuzan released the final blow, when he sealed terror and destruction deep within the heart of every other crew member, freezing every single one of them into a mask of pure horror. End.
As the frozen pirates shattered into a thousand pieces, Kizaru placed a hand on Kuzan's shoulder. "Well done, my boy. I think it's time you had a name worthy of your deeds."
Akainu nodded in agreement. "From this day forward, you shall be known as Aokiji, the Blue Pheasant."
Kuzan—now Aokiji—felt a surge of pride and something darker. "Thank you, my mentors. I'll wear this name with honor."
As they sailed off from the carnage, leaving the floating ice and charred wreckage alone, Kizaru mused, "This is but the beginning, boys. The world will tremble at the mention of our names."
With eyes that burned with incredibly fanatical zeal, Akainu offered up, "We'll purge this world of the pirate scourge—one crew at a time."
And Aokiji, having fully embraced this new identity, added with chilling calmness, "And we'll enjoy every moment of it."
Their laughter seemed to echo across the sea, a promise of the horrors yet to come. And the legend of Kizaru, Akainu, and now Aokiji; a tale etched onto the very foundation of the world of One Piece, never to be forgotten.
Dr. Vegapunk was hunched over his workbench amidst a field of bizarre contraptions and glowing screens.
"Ooooh, Vegapunk-san." Kizaru drawled, his voice a decided contrast to his imposing physique. "What delicious toys have you dreamed up for us today?"
Vegapunk stood upright at the address, glaring madly through his eyes. "Ah, Admiral Kizaru! You are just in time. I have breakthroughs that will revolutionize the world."
"Submarine ships, Admiral," gushed Vegapunk, pointing at a holographic display. "Think of our forces striking from the depths, unseen and unheard."
That handsome face of Kizaru split into a grin. "Scaaaary~ But tell me, what about my little light show? Any use for that?"
Vegapunk's laugh bordered on maniacal. "Your Devil Fruit? Oh, it's the key to unlimited energy! We could power entire cities with just a fraction of your power."
The laboratory door opened again, admitting Fleet Admiral Sengoku. His imposing presence seemed to dim the room's lights.
"Gentlemen," Sengoku's voice rumbled, "I hear you have something... ambitious to propose."
The one named Kizaru had an innate sparkle to the eyes, as if reflecting an unnatural light. "Ooooh, Sengoku-san, you won't believe what Vegapunk-san has cooked up. Tell him, doctor."
Vegapunk tapped a few keys, and an enormous hologram (not from Kizaru's light) blinked into existence, showing a floating city that seemed to be suspended away from the laws of physics. "Behold, gentlemen. A city in the sky, a beacon of Marine might and technological supremacy."
"Nothing's impossible now, Sengoku-san~" chortled Kizaru; it was strange hearing such a casual tone from a man hinting at such gravity. "Hmm? Just imagine—this whole city up in the air, hovering above the world—monitoring it, Vegapunk-san?"
"Coruscant," Vegapunk breathed aloud, on near-sacred ground. "A country from legends."
Sengoku actually turned slightly pale; it was subtle. "Who shall lead this country?"
Kizaru's grin expands, contorting into a predatorial gleam. "Why, I volunteer, of course~ Who better to rule a city of light than the man-made of it?"
As the three men looked down upon the hologram, bathed in the glow it cast throughout the room, the air seemed to crackle with potential and danger.
"With this," Vegapunk breathed, "this city will be the safest city in the world. No pirate, no revolutionary to ever set foot in this city."
Kizaru laughed, a vile sound that just might make the average man shiver before he could stop himself. "Ooooh, I just can't wait to see their faces when we unveil our little surprise~"
Sengoku nodded rather gravely. "Very well, Borsalino. The sky city project is yours to head. May the heavens help us all."
The hologram cast long, twisted shadows across the room as they continued the back-and-forth.
A new era began in the world of One Piece as Vegapunk's and Kizaru's revolutionary ideas came to life. Seas that were bulging with pirate power not so long ago now cracked with tremors under the weight of such advanced Marine technology and armament.
Specialist Marine submarines, crewed by very highly trained officers, combed the oceanic deep for pirates to be caught en masse. Such stealthy vessels, equipped with the latest in technology, could just rise above the surface and catch a group of pirates unaware.
The most notable development of the Marine arsenal, in this regard, was the weapons designed to erase the powers of devil fruits immediately. These weapons worked via an armament haki, through which on activation, a spiritual energy shield is activated, making it neutral in its receptivity to devil fruit energies. Not reducing them to zero, these weapons neutralized the capabilities that Devil fruit users previously possessed, which were therefore claimed to be insurmountable in advantage for their non-Devil fruit using counterparts.
Bursting with simultaneous genius from Vegapunk and Kizaru, ways were found around energy and power by innovative ways to make use of the power of Devil Fruits towards technological advancement. The fruit found most interesting was the Op-Op Fruit, secretly known as the "Ultimate Devil Fruit," having spatial manipulation potential. It has recognized the birth of powerful energy sources that have never been heard of before in the Marines.
The furthest, the most advanced, by Kizaru and Vegapunk into the new realm of technology was the formation of its physical manifestation; as a giant mountain, it was piloted by elite Marines referred to as a Death Star. That massive battle station, which could roam over vastness and inspire fear into the pirates. The most terrible thing about it was that, with all its superlaser power, it was capable of sending into nothingness not just ships but entire islands, burning them alive.
These all combined made quite a difference and dramatically reduced the activities of the pirates. Happy-go-lucky pirate crews now scampered amid the shadows with diminished numbers, and the sea that once served as the playground for those free-spirited buccaneers was now firmly held in the tight grasp of the Marines.
And when piracy began to decay, so did a new world order began to emerge. It is in this epoch that an increase in the presence of the Marines in the waters and advanced technology changed faith in maritime trade and politics of the globe. But this deformed balance of power questioned freedom and security on the high seas.
While the world rejoiced in the apparent witching hour for gadabout buccaneers, within the admirably few, such as the young Admiral Aokiji, questions began to form about its cost. The power now vested in these Marines was like nothing that had ever existed, and surely, it could hold potential for devastating misuse.
Kizaru, Akainu, and Aokiji were the symbolic leading men of this new world order, with an unsettled outlook towards the future. The problem with the pirates was all but eliminated, yet fresh obstacles arose ahead. The world of One Piece was now, forever, changed, yet time had yet to birth the truth of the matter, if this change was to be significant–or better.
Kizaru stood on the highest stage of this floating marvel that was Coruscant, his hulking form chiseled against the falling sun. Dozens of city winds tore through his yellow three-piece suit and marine cloak, yet he did not flinch; a tower of thunder overlooking his glorious vision.
"Ooooh, it's coming along nicely, isn't it?" Kizaru drawled, not sliding an inch down from his chilled-out persona, which was at odds with the very idea of the situation. Below him, the construction drones and workers scurried about, bringing to life the technological nirvana he had envisioned. The latest was a young Marine officer, who approached with a smart salute. "Admiral Kizaru, sir! The latest reports show that pirate activity has decreased by 98% worldwide."
Kizaru's handsome face split into a grin. "Scaaaary~ Those pesky pirates must be shaking in their boots."
Pouring all the wit he had, he commented before walking off, "Roger, Roger, Roger. What chaos will your death bring?" and fantasized about a man sitting in a cell somewhere awaiting an execution that would shake the world.
That evening, he met with his fellow Admirals in a secure chamber inside Coruscant. His best friend and confidant, Akainu, paced across the room like some caged beast as usual.
"Is the future really worth keeping The Rocks alive and Roger alive?" Akainu growled, magma dripping from his clenched fists. "Crush the remaining pirates while they're weak!"
Aokiji, their young protege, spoke up uncertainly. "But is this really the right thing to do? The timing is everything, maybe it is better to wait for the future."
Kizaru leaned back in his chair, his eyes shining with a light not quite normal. "Ooooh, such serious faces. But tell me, what if I told you that Roger getting a public execution is exactly what the future needs?"
Akainu froze, his eyes narrowing, knowing exactly where this was leading but making a gesture to continue. "Are you saying what I think your saying, Borsalino?"
Kizaru only nodded, this time lowering his voice and speaking in a tone rather uncharacteristically serious, "I've seen it, friends. What Roger's death will bring, a great era of pirates, chaos, and destruction, but also key to unimaginable victory for us."
Aokiji's eyes went really wide in pure shock. "You surely are not speaking the truth, right?"
Kizaru laughed, his voice echoing through the chamber like a chilling scream, sending shivers down his companions' spines. "Suppose I say my light could pierce more than just darkness. We always have to wait for events to come to us no matter how much it hurts; it's the only way we're going to entirely end this pirate scourge for good."
Akainu and Aokiji nodded at the wisdom imparted by Kizaru.
As Kizaru took a breath on his floating paradise, everything felt heavy in terrible knowledge. Untold suffering would be coming in the years despite how small it was now, but he knew it was necessary. He only muttered, "For the greater good," to the words lost in the wind.
The sea boiled yuckily underneath the Marine battleship, its massy silhouette a bad harbinger for any pirate unlucky enough to find it crossing his path. Three men stood on the deck — massive figures whose sheer presence was enough to make the blood run cold in even the hardest of felons. Hulking in stature, Admiral Kizaru was coolly dressed in a yellow three-piece suit over his marine attire; he leaned casually against the railing. His voice, despite his intimidating figure, remained as lazy and drawling as ever. "Ooooh, looks like our little mice are scurrying about again~"
Standing beside him, the young Admiral Akainu clenched his fists, magma seeping between his fingers. "I really wish you could allow me to put an end to this farce once and for all, Borsalino. The Rocks Pirates have bugged us long enough." "Patience, Sakazuki. We must play our parts, as distasteful as they may be," the third figure, Admiral Aokiji, though young himself, was of an ice-cold demeanour.
Kizaru's laugh seemed to hurtle through the air of the deck and was something that, in a sane man, would certainly make the blood curdle. "Now, now, guys. Let's not forget our little game. We mustn't spoil the fun too soon~"
Then, right on time, the mist had opened to expose a pirate ship, along with a black flag and a notorious emblem symbolizing the Rocks Pirates. The deck was full of battle-hardened criminals, each formidable on their own. "Ararara," Aokiji sighed, frost beginning to form around his feet. "Here we go again."
The grin on Kizaru's face widened, his eyes turning more predatory. "Ooooh, never do they learn, do they? Shall we give them a proper Marine welcome?"
The ensuing battle was one of ordered, complex ballets of pandemonium, as a trio of Admirals—individuals who had been subduing the full expression of their monstrous powers—played games with the Rocks Pirates like a cat with its food.
Author's Notes: Remember to support me on pa - tr - eo - n Bosillic?
The Lazy Admiral's Odyssey
The air within Marine Headquarters was charged as three striking figures held court before the imposing presence of Fleet Admiral Sengoku and the legendary Garp.
There was Admiral Kizaru, physically at ease yet practically radiating power from beneath the deceivingly composed facade. His speech patterns and mannerisms were almost an eerie mimicry of someone far older, significantly slower, in nature—a genetic oddity so strong it was absolutely par for the course for him.
On either side of Kizaru stood his colleagues: the grim-looking Akainu, who was Kizaru's right-hand man, and the suave Aokiji—their former protégé but now their equal. Together, and together alone, they forged a triumvirate of incomparable strength—with Kizaru standing secretly above them all to a chosen few.
"You three," growled Sengoku, behind his glasses, his glare matting down their hair, "explain to me why the Rocks Pirates walk the land as free men. With your combined strength, by now, they would be naught but a memory."
The admirals shot glances at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. Kizaru, his voice drizzling with feigned boredom, spoke first.
"Ooh, Sengoku-san, the future is such a delicate thing, ne? Sometimes, the smallest pebble can cause the largest ripples."
Akainu, his face a picture of stern resolution, added, "The world is a chessboard, Fleet Admiral. Every piece, no matter how insignificant it may seem, has its role to play."
Cooler than ever, Aokiji concluded, "time will take care of it, sir. Until then, we will leave it to the tides of time."
The three admirals stood still confident; their cryptic answers met with awed confusion between Sengoku and Garp.
Sengoku grew patient with the trio again. This time, he locked eyes with Garp for a moment; the years of experience spoke volumes in that one silent gesture. It was the voice of the Fleet Admiral—sharp, cutting through the vague answers.
"This is enough crap," Sengoku snarled as his fist pounded the table. "Garp, it seems we have been given no other choice. You will need to take down Rocks by yourself to bring an end to this foolishness."
Kizaru's eyebrows rose ever so slightly, the only flicker of surprise on his almost impassive face. "Ooh, Sengoku-san," he drawled his voice a lazy contrast to the weight of the situation. "Rushing into the future like that might lead us down a daaaaark path, ne?"
Akainu chimed in, his face set into stone. "If I might be so bold, Fleet Admiral—changing things now could have unforeseen repercussions."
The cool cat Aokiji just nodded his head, still with a far-away stare passing through the room's walls.
Sengoku's eyes narrowed a fraction further, his patience finally breaking. "You three will assist Garp in this mission. That's an order, not a request."
The three of Admirals exchanged glances, the silent conversation between them quite evident. Kizaru, his handsome features arranged into a mask of feigned concern, spoke up. "The future, Sengoku-san, it's like a house of cards. One wrong move, and… poof!" He made a gesture with his hands, mimicking an explosion.
Sengoku slumped his shoulders, the weight of the position visible in the lines of his face. He shooed them all away with a wave of his hand, heavy with disappointed tones in his voice. "Get out of my sight—all of you—I expected better."
As the three Admirals filed out, Kizaru in the lead with his yellow suit catching the glare, Sengoku couldn't help but feel like they knew something he did not—something that made even the world's strongest fighters take a step back.
The door slid shut behind them, leaving Sengoku and Garp in the darkness of the room, lost in their thoughts, with the nagging feeling that the future was going to be more than either had bargained for.
As the door to Sengoku's office clicked shut behind them, the three Admirals strode down the hallway, their faces masks of practiced indifference.
Once they were safely out of earshot, it was Kizaru's lazy drawl that broke the silence. "Ooh, that was a close one, ne? Thought for sure the old man had caught on to our little. extracurricular activities."
Akainu's chiseled expression softened just a hair with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his stern features. "Indeed. It's a good thing he remains fixated on the Rocks. Our other endeavors remain safe for now."
Aokiji's face remained placid, and he gave a simple nod. "The puzzle begins to fall into place, well as we've thought out."
The handsome face of Kizaru twisted into an over-the-top expression of mock concern. "Those poor, poor Celestial Dragons," he said, oozing sarcasm from his voice. "What a shame they keep meeting such unfortunate ends at the hands of those nasty pirates."
His companions glanced knowledgeably at each other and smiled, for they knew of the web of intricately woven fictions they had set at play.
It was all the magnificent mind of Kizaru behind it: every step they took, every move they made. With the coups of Lex Luthor, the might of Goku, the intuition of a Jedi, he had masterminded a flawless plan—so sinister that not even the cream of the World Government would catch wind of it.
Akainu's voice dipped into a whisper, darting his eyes about to make sure they weren't overheard. "The Celestial Dragons are a cancer upon this world. We may be Marines, but even we have our limits."
Aokiji nodded solemnly. "No one else had the guts to do it. It fell to us."
They could be heard mumbling among themselves as they went deeper into the corridor. These three Admirals were, at one time, the pride of the Marines but now trod a dangerous path, for they had become something more than just protectors of justice: they were the silent arbiters of a new world order.
Leading the way was Kizaru, whose laid-back exterior belied a fierce brilliance and power that resided within his very mind.
Echoed walked and now quieting, the footfalls faded; Kizaru found himself stomping within the labyrinthine gait of the Marine headquarters alone. His languid gait belied the storm of thoughts brewing behind half-lidded eyes. At stake was the weight of their clandestine mission against the proud dragons, the Celestial Dragons, but something else always nagged at the edges of his consciousness.
He craned his neck with a casual glance looking for anyone around, and with that, Kizaru's till-then-laid-back demeanor tensed into a keen focus. In his mind's eye, a shimmering interface materialized: the Store System, a power so arcane as to defy the very laws of their world. It was here, in this ethereal marketplace of abilities, that Kizaru's true strength lay hidden from even his closest allies.
As his eye drifted lazily over the spectral menu, something glinted his eye: Kaiju-Kaiju Fruit: the Black-Yellow Winged Godzilla. Its very existence seemed to mock the basic principles of Devil Fruits, promising power that could coexist with his Glint-Glint abilities. Kizaru grinned his biggest grin, the flicker of genuine excitement something one hadn't exactly seen in quite a while.
And with the thought, the fruit flickered into his hand. Its weight was that of untold power. "Ooh, how interesting," murmured Kizaru under his breath, though his voice did nothing to suggest the gravitas of the moment. Just like that, the strongest individual in all of the world became stronger than any living person in existence, and not one soul would ever be the wiser.
Through it all, immaculately sharpened plans took form within the very brilliant mind of Kizaru, unsheathed behind that lazy demeanor as sharp as a razor. Training would be required, of course, in order to harness such a new monstrous power. But most of all, secrecy would be paramount—Not even Akainu and Aokiji, his partners in his shadow war against corruption, were to know. Not yet, anyway. If Blackbeard could somehow do it, there was every chance Kizaru could be connected to that madman later down the line—and something he desired to at all costs avoid.
Mariner Haven was like most other port towns—swarming with life, a sprawling maze of weathered buildings and salt-stained docks. The three Admirals mingled into the passing throng; for an instant, that flicker in Kizaru's lazy gait made it seem as though an irresponsible human had momentarily forgotten his responsibilities.
"Ooh, Aokiji-kun," Kizaru drawled further, voice laced with an unusual weight, "this is where Akainu and I spent our younger days. Quite the nostalgic trip, ne?"
The former settled for a nod, only the sternness of his jaw having softened as he continued to view the familiar sights.
The three stopped at an intersection, worn by weather and redolent of brine and memories not quite near enough. Kizaru's voice, ever light, was now serious. "It's been years since we've set foot here, not since."
Akainu finished the thought, his voice husky with feelings he kept valiantly in check. "Not since your father passed, and Solara."
The change in atmosphere was noted by Aokiji; he raised his eyebrow. "Solara?" he asked in a quiet voice. Kizaru's response was slow and ponderous, each word being dragged from the depths of long-buried pain. "My childhood friend. She and my father. They fell to a pirate. Hellfire Hank, they called him.
Continuing on their way, the familiar sights and sounds of Mariner Haven greeted them. For Kizaru and Akainu, it seemed every step took them back in time, back to days of innocence far removed from them now.
It hung heavy in the air—the weight of their shared yesterdays, of the tragedies that had made them.
Kizaru's slow drawl cut through the ambient noise of the port town. "Oh, Akainu-kun, have you noticed? The place's not quite like it was in our youth." His green eyes, half-lidded by nature into a constant expression of disinterest, now flicked around with unaccustomed acuteness.
"As you all know," he droned, his voice as cracked and sagging as ever, though the weight behind every word carried its own urgency, "Pirate activity has come to a screeching nonexistence, globally dropping by a whopping 98%." He made a wide gesture at the marketplace's bustle, the normally placid docks—there was a time when the air around here felt like the grim reaper gave it a pass. "Quite the change, ne?"
"It's been years of relentless pursuit, but we've finally brought order to these waters." The unspoken cost of this peace hung heavy in the air between them, a shared burden of their chosen path.
Aokiji, all calm and collected, yet boiling with thoughts inside, regarded them. The laughter of children, the easy conversations of merchants, the absence of constant vigilance that once defined life in a pirate-infested port—his voice, when he spoke, carried a weight that belied his usual nonchalance.
"If our brand of Absolute Justice had been in place from the start," Aokiji mused, his eyes far away, "perhaps you two's tragedy would never have occurred." The words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the losses that had shaped their shared past.
Akainu's agreement came swiftly, one of those rare moments when the three Admirals clicked into perfect alignment.
"True," he growled, fists tightening by his side. "We can't afford to let these horrors happen again." Kizaru kept his smile on his face as they walked through the changed Mariner Haven. The deep, real Kizaru churned away behind the mask of the amiable, lazy admiral with his brilliant brain whirring. He got new power, set new plans in motion—everything to achieve the life goal of Absolute Justice.
The three Admirals towered over two weathered gravestones, their great figures stretching long across the ground as the light waned soft and distant. Kizaru's always-grinning face finally fell, his lazy gaze stopped upon the etched names of his father and Solara. It was like the air had thickened around them, heavy with words unsaid, loaded with grief and memories put into thought.
Akainu's face, usually harsh lines, softened almost imperceptibly as he took in the loss of his best friend and his own as well—however short-lived he knew them to be. His fingers twitched as if in a desire to clench into that fist of retribution, the one which had become his trademark. The calm look on Aokiji's face was in stark contrast to the scene as it played out before him; his detachment at least matched by the contrast of emotions roiling inside of his person.
Kizaru's voice, when it finally broke the silence, was barely above a whisper. It had within it the weight of years of suppressed anguish. "Ooh, it's been so long, ne? Yet it feels like yesterday." His hand, normally one to move with loose casualness, touched against cold stone with a slight tremble.
As the sun dipped westward, filling the graveyard with long shadows, the thoughts of each admiral were their own. However, below those individual reflections, there ran a common current—deep and strong: pursuit of Absolute Justice, the dream of a world free from the chaos that claimed these lives and countless others.
Kizaru's eyes blazed in anger, the passion that flamed within him never shown to the world, but for the power he now held—one he had kept from his most trusted allies—a silent promise to the fallen pulsed within him.
Akainu's visage only hardened further into the set determination.
Aokiji stood silent in unspoken agreement, a burning conviction masked by his cool face.
As they turned to leave, the weight of what lay ahead sank into the three Admirals like a mantle. And in that moment, that brief lull of seconds, these three Admirals stepped forward as more than fellow arms or even friends. They became guardians for a future yet to be forged—tying loss with burning vision for justice that would never let go. And as they walked away from the graves, literally giving the backs of dead reminders to each other, there was Kizaru with his grin slowly coming back into place.
As they walked away from the graveyard, the weight of their shared past hanging heavy in the air, Kizaru's languid voice broke the somber silence. "Ooh, you know. I've been thinking, ne? Perhaps it's time for a little break."
Akainu frowned, confusion etched into his stern features. "A break, Borsalino? We are right in the middle of a critical mission."
Aokiji with his usual icy coolness displayed a hint of curiosity. "What kind of break did you have in mind, Kizaru-san?"
The perpetual grin widened just a bit, a sparkle of something impish dancing in his eyes. "Maa, maa. I'm talking about a break from this world, you see."
Akainu narrowed his eyes dangerous fashion. "What are you saying, Borsalino?"
"Oh, just that I'm thinking… how shall I say this… a bit of jaunt to another world, maybe. Or perhaps another universe."
Kizaru's lazy gaze drifted between his two shocked comrades as his grin never wavered. "Impossible? Maa, maa… you'd be surprised at what's possible, ne?"
He did not mention his Store System or the underlying mechanism that might make such a journey possible. Behind this careless face of his was veiled power and hidden secrets undecipherable to his closest of aides.
Akainu and Aokiji exchanged a glance— one of those exceedingly rare moments of perfect comprehension between the two of them. Both Admirals knew Kizaru well enough to tell when he was being serious, no matter how lazy the marine sounded.
"You're not truly jesting with me, are you, Borsalino?" Akainu's voice rumbles darkly.
Kizaru came back in his usual evasive manner. "Jest? Ooh, that would be quite the intricate prank, now wouldn't it?"
Kizaru's words began to settle in, and a strained silence fell over the three. Hanging unspoken in between them was a question: If Kizaru were truly capable of moving between worlds, what did that mean for their shared dream of Absolute Justice?
Aokiji broke the silence, his voice carefully flat. "And what about our mission, Kizaru-san? What about justice?"
For a moment, Kizaru's smile almost seemed to sharpen. "Justice? Now, that is a really interesting question, ne? Maybe true justice does require one to think over a wider angle."
He felt the grand halls of Marineford shake and resonate with heated voices as Kizaru faced his fellow Admirals, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, and the legendary Garp. He kept that same trademark grin upon his face, even as he reiterated his hyperbolic proposition.
"Ooh, just a little sabbatical, ne? A few years, give or take," Kizaru drawled, his usual easy tone nowhere near the grim turn the conversation was taking.
Sengoku literally clenched his fists at his sides, that composed mien shattering. "Years? Borsalino, are you out of your mind?"
Garp was propped against the wall behind him, arms crossed and laughing boisterously. "Ha! Always knew you were an odd one, Kizaru, but this takes the cake."
Akainu's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What about Coruscant?" he said venomously. "How can you possibly know when it's 'finished' if you're on this… break from the world?"
Kizaru grinned at him also cockeyed amusedly. "Maa, maa… I have my ways, you see." His vague response only served to deepen the furrows in Akainu's brow.
But Aokiji, being the reasonable voice, stepped forward. "Kizaru-san, deshou, you must understand our concerns. This is... unprecedented."
Even as the debate raged, Kizaru carried on a separate, silent one. His mind reached out, connecting across vast distances, to Nyon.
"My love," Nyon's thoughts resonated in his mind tinted with worry and obsession. "Are the tales true? Will you really be gone?"
Kizaru's mental voice was as lazy as his spoken one. 'Ooh, just for a little while, ne? Don't fret, my dear. Our connection will remain, even across worlds.'
Sengoku's face could not be more unknown. Patience had all but fled from him. "Borsalino, this is insanity. We need you here more than ever."
Kizaru's response was maddeningly casual. "Maa, the world will keep spinning without little old me for a while, ne?"
As Akainu opened his mouth to further protest, Kizaru held up a hand. "Now, now, let's not get all worked up. I'll be back before you know it."
'But how will I know you're safe?' Nyon's frantic thoughts thrust directly into Kizaru's mind with the force of an arrow.
'Our telepathy, my dear. It will bridge any gap, any world,' Kizaru reassured her silently.
The tension in that room was palpable, with glances bouncing off each other. They knew him enough to realize that there was steel in that lazy frame.
Garp was the first to break the silence. "Well, I'll be damned. You're really serious about this, aren't you, Borsalino?"
On his part, Kizaru was unrepentant in his grin. "Ooh, as serious as I've ever been about anything, Garp-san."
With a heavy exhalation that was almost a groan, Sengoku's weariness flowed outward until it was visible in the drop of his shoulders. "And there's nothing we can say to dissuade you?"
"Afraid not, Fleet Admiral," Kizaru replied, his tone almost there.
With that, there was no way to feel appropriate inevitability by now at the end of the meeting. Inevitability no longer lay in the 'if' of Kizaru's going away but in the 'when'.
'I shall be waiting, my love,' Nyon's thoughts whispered in Kizaru's mind.
'And I shall always be with you, in thought if not in body,' Kizaru responded in silence as his external demeanor betrayed nothing of both sides of the intense exchange.
As he turned to leave, Kizaru's grin took on an enigmatic quality. All the power he held, the mystery he was embarking on, and the secrets he took pains to hide were all simmering just under the nonchalant exterior he put forth.
Kizaru stood at the edge of Marineford, staring out at the endless horizon. Power lay as a heavy burden on his shoulders, unmatched and unmatched. "Being the strongest really can be a bore," he drawled to no one in particular.
The sun began descending, bringing in its wake shadows so long they cut the bay in two. Only now could Kizaru consider the possibilities lying beyond this world. A place for a real challenge, a new day, and a world most likely full of divine beauties, he contemplated with a lazy grin across his face.
Unbeknownst to his comrades, Kizaru did have one secret of his own. Unconsciously, he thought of the Store System—the power that was there since he could remember to offer a world-hopping quality like that of the gods. "'Maa, maa," he muttered to himself, "'tis about time I took it for a spin, ne?"
He accessed the system with only a thought, scrolling through countless worlds and realities until he found where he was headed: Greek Mythology—the real version. That was what he was looking for, and his eyes were lighting up. "Ooh, now that looks interesting," he chuckled.
Before it had to happen, Kizaru made one last purchase from the Store System: a power under the Notification branch. "Can't leave my dear comrades completely in the dark, now can I?" he reasoned, setting up notifications for all pertinent or related matters in the world of One Piece.
As the sun set behind him, Kizaru called his compatriots to join him at their last moment. Akainu's seemingly permanent scowl deepened. "I still think this is madness, Borsalino."
Kizaru's grin firmed up. "Ooh, madness? Yes. But then again, a little sprinkle of mad is what makes life interesting, ne?"
Aokiji, ever the pragmatist, took a step forward. "How long will you be gone, Kizaru-san?"
"Maa, who can say? Time flows differently between worlds, you know," Kizaru said with a wink.
As the stars started popping in this darkening sky, Kizaru turned back and looked at the others one last time. "Well, it's been fun, ne? Don't let the world fall apart without me."
Akainu's fists clenched at his sides. "Borsalino… if you're really doing this… just… come back in one piece."
Kizaru's laugh echoed around the bay. "Ooh, was that a pun, Sakazuki? How very unlike you."
With one last lazy wave, Kizaru closed his eyes. Mentally he turned on the Store System, verifying his destination. "Greek Mythology, here I come," he murmured.
And then, in an instant, he was gone. No flash of light. No dramatic thunderclap. He was just… suddenly... gone. One moment he was there, his yellow suit bright as actual sunlight against the darkness of the night sky, and then… nothing.
The shocked Akainu and Aokiji stared at the very place their companion had disappeared into. Suddenly, the One Piece world seemed a little emptier, a little less bright. And somewhere, in a realm of gods and monsters, an exceedingly handsome young man dressed in a striking yellow suit was about to make his grand entrance.
Author's Notes: Support me on Patreon.
Bosillic | First Story centered around Kizaru | Patreon
There was Admiral Kizaru, physically at ease yet practically radiating power from beneath the deceivingly composed facade. His speech patterns and mannerisms were almost an eerie mimicry of someone far older, significantly slower, in nature—a genetic oddity so strong it was absolutely par for the course for him.
On either side of Kizaru stood his colleagues: the grim-looking Akainu, who was Kizaru's right-hand man, and the suave Aokiji—their former protégé but now their equal. Together, and together alone, they forged a triumvirate of incomparable strength—with Kizaru standing secretly above them all to a chosen few.
"You three," growled Sengoku, behind his glasses, his glare matting down their hair, "explain to me why the Rocks Pirates walk the land as free men. With your combined strength, by now, they would be naught but a memory."
The admirals shot glances at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. Kizaru, his voice drizzling with feigned boredom, spoke first.
"Ooh, Sengoku-san, the future is such a delicate thing, ne? Sometimes, the smallest pebble can cause the largest ripples."
Akainu, his face a picture of stern resolution, added, "The world is a chessboard, Fleet Admiral. Every piece, no matter how insignificant it may seem, has its role to play."
Cooler than ever, Aokiji concluded, "time will take care of it, sir. Until then, we will leave it to the tides of time."
The three admirals stood still confident; their cryptic answers met with awed confusion between Sengoku and Garp.
Sengoku grew patient with the trio again. This time, he locked eyes with Garp for a moment; the years of experience spoke volumes in that one silent gesture. It was the voice of the Fleet Admiral—sharp, cutting through the vague answers.
"This is enough crap," Sengoku snarled as his fist pounded the table. "Garp, it seems we have been given no other choice. You will need to take down Rocks by yourself to bring an end to this foolishness."
Kizaru's eyebrows rose ever so slightly, the only flicker of surprise on his almost impassive face. "Ooh, Sengoku-san," he drawled his voice a lazy contrast to the weight of the situation. "Rushing into the future like that might lead us down a daaaaark path, ne?"
Akainu chimed in, his face set into stone. "If I might be so bold, Fleet Admiral—changing things now could have unforeseen repercussions."
The cool cat Aokiji just nodded his head, still with a far-away stare passing through the room's walls.
Sengoku's eyes narrowed a fraction further, his patience finally breaking. "You three will assist Garp in this mission. That's an order, not a request."
The three of Admirals exchanged glances, the silent conversation between them quite evident. Kizaru, his handsome features arranged into a mask of feigned concern, spoke up. "The future, Sengoku-san, it's like a house of cards. One wrong move, and… poof!" He made a gesture with his hands, mimicking an explosion.
Sengoku slumped his shoulders, the weight of the position visible in the lines of his face. He shooed them all away with a wave of his hand, heavy with disappointed tones in his voice. "Get out of my sight—all of you—I expected better."
As the three Admirals filed out, Kizaru in the lead with his yellow suit catching the glare, Sengoku couldn't help but feel like they knew something he did not—something that made even the world's strongest fighters take a step back.
The door slid shut behind them, leaving Sengoku and Garp in the darkness of the room, lost in their thoughts, with the nagging feeling that the future was going to be more than either had bargained for.
As the door to Sengoku's office clicked shut behind them, the three Admirals strode down the hallway, their faces masks of practiced indifference.
Once they were safely out of earshot, it was Kizaru's lazy drawl that broke the silence. "Ooh, that was a close one, ne? Thought for sure the old man had caught on to our little. extracurricular activities."
Akainu's chiseled expression softened just a hair with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his stern features. "Indeed. It's a good thing he remains fixated on the Rocks. Our other endeavors remain safe for now."
Aokiji's face remained placid, and he gave a simple nod. "The puzzle begins to fall into place, well as we've thought out."
The handsome face of Kizaru twisted into an over-the-top expression of mock concern. "Those poor, poor Celestial Dragons," he said, oozing sarcasm from his voice. "What a shame they keep meeting such unfortunate ends at the hands of those nasty pirates."
His companions glanced knowledgeably at each other and smiled, for they knew of the web of intricately woven fictions they had set at play.
It was all the magnificent mind of Kizaru behind it: every step they took, every move they made. With the coups of Lex Luthor, the might of Goku, the intuition of a Jedi, he had masterminded a flawless plan—so sinister that not even the cream of the World Government would catch wind of it.
Akainu's voice dipped into a whisper, darting his eyes about to make sure they weren't overheard. "The Celestial Dragons are a cancer upon this world. We may be Marines, but even we have our limits."
Aokiji nodded solemnly. "No one else had the guts to do it. It fell to us."
They could be heard mumbling among themselves as they went deeper into the corridor. These three Admirals were, at one time, the pride of the Marines but now trod a dangerous path, for they had become something more than just protectors of justice: they were the silent arbiters of a new world order.
Leading the way was Kizaru, whose laid-back exterior belied a fierce brilliance and power that resided within his very mind.
Echoed walked and now quieting, the footfalls faded; Kizaru found himself stomping within the labyrinthine gait of the Marine headquarters alone. His languid gait belied the storm of thoughts brewing behind half-lidded eyes. At stake was the weight of their clandestine mission against the proud dragons, the Celestial Dragons, but something else always nagged at the edges of his consciousness.
He craned his neck with a casual glance looking for anyone around, and with that, Kizaru's till-then-laid-back demeanor tensed into a keen focus. In his mind's eye, a shimmering interface materialized: the Store System, a power so arcane as to defy the very laws of their world. It was here, in this ethereal marketplace of abilities, that Kizaru's true strength lay hidden from even his closest allies.
As his eye drifted lazily over the spectral menu, something glinted his eye: Kaiju-Kaiju Fruit: the Black-Yellow Winged Godzilla. Its very existence seemed to mock the basic principles of Devil Fruits, promising power that could coexist with his Glint-Glint abilities. Kizaru grinned his biggest grin, the flicker of genuine excitement something one hadn't exactly seen in quite a while.
And with the thought, the fruit flickered into his hand. Its weight was that of untold power. "Ooh, how interesting," murmured Kizaru under his breath, though his voice did nothing to suggest the gravitas of the moment. Just like that, the strongest individual in all of the world became stronger than any living person in existence, and not one soul would ever be the wiser.
Through it all, immaculately sharpened plans took form within the very brilliant mind of Kizaru, unsheathed behind that lazy demeanor as sharp as a razor. Training would be required, of course, in order to harness such a new monstrous power. But most of all, secrecy would be paramount—Not even Akainu and Aokiji, his partners in his shadow war against corruption, were to know. Not yet, anyway. If Blackbeard could somehow do it, there was every chance Kizaru could be connected to that madman later down the line—and something he desired to at all costs avoid.
Mariner Haven was like most other port towns—swarming with life, a sprawling maze of weathered buildings and salt-stained docks. The three Admirals mingled into the passing throng; for an instant, that flicker in Kizaru's lazy gait made it seem as though an irresponsible human had momentarily forgotten his responsibilities.
"Ooh, Aokiji-kun," Kizaru drawled further, voice laced with an unusual weight, "this is where Akainu and I spent our younger days. Quite the nostalgic trip, ne?"
The former settled for a nod, only the sternness of his jaw having softened as he continued to view the familiar sights.
The three stopped at an intersection, worn by weather and redolent of brine and memories not quite near enough. Kizaru's voice, ever light, was now serious. "It's been years since we've set foot here, not since."
Akainu finished the thought, his voice husky with feelings he kept valiantly in check. "Not since your father passed, and Solara."
The change in atmosphere was noted by Aokiji; he raised his eyebrow. "Solara?" he asked in a quiet voice. Kizaru's response was slow and ponderous, each word being dragged from the depths of long-buried pain. "My childhood friend. She and my father. They fell to a pirate. Hellfire Hank, they called him.
Continuing on their way, the familiar sights and sounds of Mariner Haven greeted them. For Kizaru and Akainu, it seemed every step took them back in time, back to days of innocence far removed from them now.
It hung heavy in the air—the weight of their shared yesterdays, of the tragedies that had made them.
Kizaru's slow drawl cut through the ambient noise of the port town. "Oh, Akainu-kun, have you noticed? The place's not quite like it was in our youth." His green eyes, half-lidded by nature into a constant expression of disinterest, now flicked around with unaccustomed acuteness.
"As you all know," he droned, his voice as cracked and sagging as ever, though the weight behind every word carried its own urgency, "Pirate activity has come to a screeching nonexistence, globally dropping by a whopping 98%." He made a wide gesture at the marketplace's bustle, the normally placid docks—there was a time when the air around here felt like the grim reaper gave it a pass. "Quite the change, ne?"
"It's been years of relentless pursuit, but we've finally brought order to these waters." The unspoken cost of this peace hung heavy in the air between them, a shared burden of their chosen path.
Aokiji, all calm and collected, yet boiling with thoughts inside, regarded them. The laughter of children, the easy conversations of merchants, the absence of constant vigilance that once defined life in a pirate-infested port—his voice, when he spoke, carried a weight that belied his usual nonchalance.
"If our brand of Absolute Justice had been in place from the start," Aokiji mused, his eyes far away, "perhaps you two's tragedy would never have occurred." The words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the losses that had shaped their shared past.
Akainu's agreement came swiftly, one of those rare moments when the three Admirals clicked into perfect alignment.
"True," he growled, fists tightening by his side. "We can't afford to let these horrors happen again." Kizaru kept his smile on his face as they walked through the changed Mariner Haven. The deep, real Kizaru churned away behind the mask of the amiable, lazy admiral with his brilliant brain whirring. He got new power, set new plans in motion—everything to achieve the life goal of Absolute Justice.
The three Admirals towered over two weathered gravestones, their great figures stretching long across the ground as the light waned soft and distant. Kizaru's always-grinning face finally fell, his lazy gaze stopped upon the etched names of his father and Solara. It was like the air had thickened around them, heavy with words unsaid, loaded with grief and memories put into thought.
Akainu's face, usually harsh lines, softened almost imperceptibly as he took in the loss of his best friend and his own as well—however short-lived he knew them to be. His fingers twitched as if in a desire to clench into that fist of retribution, the one which had become his trademark. The calm look on Aokiji's face was in stark contrast to the scene as it played out before him; his detachment at least matched by the contrast of emotions roiling inside of his person.
Kizaru's voice, when it finally broke the silence, was barely above a whisper. It had within it the weight of years of suppressed anguish. "Ooh, it's been so long, ne? Yet it feels like yesterday." His hand, normally one to move with loose casualness, touched against cold stone with a slight tremble.
As the sun dipped westward, filling the graveyard with long shadows, the thoughts of each admiral were their own. However, below those individual reflections, there ran a common current—deep and strong: pursuit of Absolute Justice, the dream of a world free from the chaos that claimed these lives and countless others.
Kizaru's eyes blazed in anger, the passion that flamed within him never shown to the world, but for the power he now held—one he had kept from his most trusted allies—a silent promise to the fallen pulsed within him.
Akainu's visage only hardened further into the set determination.
Aokiji stood silent in unspoken agreement, a burning conviction masked by his cool face.
As they turned to leave, the weight of what lay ahead sank into the three Admirals like a mantle. And in that moment, that brief lull of seconds, these three Admirals stepped forward as more than fellow arms or even friends. They became guardians for a future yet to be forged—tying loss with burning vision for justice that would never let go. And as they walked away from the graves, literally giving the backs of dead reminders to each other, there was Kizaru with his grin slowly coming back into place.
As they walked away from the graveyard, the weight of their shared past hanging heavy in the air, Kizaru's languid voice broke the somber silence. "Ooh, you know. I've been thinking, ne? Perhaps it's time for a little break."
Akainu frowned, confusion etched into his stern features. "A break, Borsalino? We are right in the middle of a critical mission."
Aokiji with his usual icy coolness displayed a hint of curiosity. "What kind of break did you have in mind, Kizaru-san?"
The perpetual grin widened just a bit, a sparkle of something impish dancing in his eyes. "Maa, maa. I'm talking about a break from this world, you see."
Akainu narrowed his eyes dangerous fashion. "What are you saying, Borsalino?"
"Oh, just that I'm thinking… how shall I say this… a bit of jaunt to another world, maybe. Or perhaps another universe."
Kizaru's lazy gaze drifted between his two shocked comrades as his grin never wavered. "Impossible? Maa, maa… you'd be surprised at what's possible, ne?"
He did not mention his Store System or the underlying mechanism that might make such a journey possible. Behind this careless face of his was veiled power and hidden secrets undecipherable to his closest of aides.
Akainu and Aokiji exchanged a glance— one of those exceedingly rare moments of perfect comprehension between the two of them. Both Admirals knew Kizaru well enough to tell when he was being serious, no matter how lazy the marine sounded.
"You're not truly jesting with me, are you, Borsalino?" Akainu's voice rumbles darkly.
Kizaru came back in his usual evasive manner. "Jest? Ooh, that would be quite the intricate prank, now wouldn't it?"
Kizaru's words began to settle in, and a strained silence fell over the three. Hanging unspoken in between them was a question: If Kizaru were truly capable of moving between worlds, what did that mean for their shared dream of Absolute Justice?
Aokiji broke the silence, his voice carefully flat. "And what about our mission, Kizaru-san? What about justice?"
For a moment, Kizaru's smile almost seemed to sharpen. "Justice? Now, that is a really interesting question, ne? Maybe true justice does require one to think over a wider angle."
He felt the grand halls of Marineford shake and resonate with heated voices as Kizaru faced his fellow Admirals, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, and the legendary Garp. He kept that same trademark grin upon his face, even as he reiterated his hyperbolic proposition.
"Ooh, just a little sabbatical, ne? A few years, give or take," Kizaru drawled, his usual easy tone nowhere near the grim turn the conversation was taking.
Sengoku literally clenched his fists at his sides, that composed mien shattering. "Years? Borsalino, are you out of your mind?"
Garp was propped against the wall behind him, arms crossed and laughing boisterously. "Ha! Always knew you were an odd one, Kizaru, but this takes the cake."
Akainu's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What about Coruscant?" he said venomously. "How can you possibly know when it's 'finished' if you're on this… break from the world?"
Kizaru grinned at him also cockeyed amusedly. "Maa, maa… I have my ways, you see." His vague response only served to deepen the furrows in Akainu's brow.
But Aokiji, being the reasonable voice, stepped forward. "Kizaru-san, deshou, you must understand our concerns. This is... unprecedented."
Even as the debate raged, Kizaru carried on a separate, silent one. His mind reached out, connecting across vast distances, to Nyon.
"My love," Nyon's thoughts resonated in his mind tinted with worry and obsession. "Are the tales true? Will you really be gone?"
Kizaru's mental voice was as lazy as his spoken one. 'Ooh, just for a little while, ne? Don't fret, my dear. Our connection will remain, even across worlds.'
Sengoku's face could not be more unknown. Patience had all but fled from him. "Borsalino, this is insanity. We need you here more than ever."
Kizaru's response was maddeningly casual. "Maa, the world will keep spinning without little old me for a while, ne?"
As Akainu opened his mouth to further protest, Kizaru held up a hand. "Now, now, let's not get all worked up. I'll be back before you know it."
'But how will I know you're safe?' Nyon's frantic thoughts thrust directly into Kizaru's mind with the force of an arrow.
'Our telepathy, my dear. It will bridge any gap, any world,' Kizaru reassured her silently.
The tension in that room was palpable, with glances bouncing off each other. They knew him enough to realize that there was steel in that lazy frame.
Garp was the first to break the silence. "Well, I'll be damned. You're really serious about this, aren't you, Borsalino?"
On his part, Kizaru was unrepentant in his grin. "Ooh, as serious as I've ever been about anything, Garp-san."
With a heavy exhalation that was almost a groan, Sengoku's weariness flowed outward until it was visible in the drop of his shoulders. "And there's nothing we can say to dissuade you?"
"Afraid not, Fleet Admiral," Kizaru replied, his tone almost there.
With that, there was no way to feel appropriate inevitability by now at the end of the meeting. Inevitability no longer lay in the 'if' of Kizaru's going away but in the 'when'.
'I shall be waiting, my love,' Nyon's thoughts whispered in Kizaru's mind.
'And I shall always be with you, in thought if not in body,' Kizaru responded in silence as his external demeanor betrayed nothing of both sides of the intense exchange.
As he turned to leave, Kizaru's grin took on an enigmatic quality. All the power he held, the mystery he was embarking on, and the secrets he took pains to hide were all simmering just under the nonchalant exterior he put forth.
Kizaru stood at the edge of Marineford, staring out at the endless horizon. Power lay as a heavy burden on his shoulders, unmatched and unmatched. "Being the strongest really can be a bore," he drawled to no one in particular.
The sun began descending, bringing in its wake shadows so long they cut the bay in two. Only now could Kizaru consider the possibilities lying beyond this world. A place for a real challenge, a new day, and a world most likely full of divine beauties, he contemplated with a lazy grin across his face.
Unbeknownst to his comrades, Kizaru did have one secret of his own. Unconsciously, he thought of the Store System—the power that was there since he could remember to offer a world-hopping quality like that of the gods. "'Maa, maa," he muttered to himself, "'tis about time I took it for a spin, ne?"
He accessed the system with only a thought, scrolling through countless worlds and realities until he found where he was headed: Greek Mythology—the real version. That was what he was looking for, and his eyes were lighting up. "Ooh, now that looks interesting," he chuckled.
Before it had to happen, Kizaru made one last purchase from the Store System: a power under the Notification branch. "Can't leave my dear comrades completely in the dark, now can I?" he reasoned, setting up notifications for all pertinent or related matters in the world of One Piece.
As the sun set behind him, Kizaru called his compatriots to join him at their last moment. Akainu's seemingly permanent scowl deepened. "I still think this is madness, Borsalino."
Kizaru's grin firmed up. "Ooh, madness? Yes. But then again, a little sprinkle of mad is what makes life interesting, ne?"
Aokiji, ever the pragmatist, took a step forward. "How long will you be gone, Kizaru-san?"
"Maa, who can say? Time flows differently between worlds, you know," Kizaru said with a wink.
As the stars started popping in this darkening sky, Kizaru turned back and looked at the others one last time. "Well, it's been fun, ne? Don't let the world fall apart without me."
Akainu's fists clenched at his sides. "Borsalino… if you're really doing this… just… come back in one piece."
Kizaru's laugh echoed around the bay. "Ooh, was that a pun, Sakazuki? How very unlike you."
With one last lazy wave, Kizaru closed his eyes. Mentally he turned on the Store System, verifying his destination. "Greek Mythology, here I come," he murmured.
And then, in an instant, he was gone. No flash of light. No dramatic thunderclap. He was just… suddenly... gone. One moment he was there, his yellow suit bright as actual sunlight against the darkness of the night sky, and then… nothing.
The shocked Akainu and Aokiji stared at the very place their companion had disappeared into. Suddenly, the One Piece world seemed a little emptier, a little less bright. And somewhere, in a realm of gods and monsters, an exceedingly handsome young man dressed in a striking yellow suit was about to make his grand entrance.
Author's Notes: Support me on Patreon.
Bosillic | First Story centered around Kizaru | Patreon
Divine Dilemma: The Lazy Admiral's Athenian Adventure
With a bizarre shimmer and crackle of energy, Kizaru appeared on the outskirts of the ancient city of Athens. His blinding yellow suit provided a stark contrast to the white columns of marble and the sun-baked clay of the roofs. A lazy smile crossed his handsome face as he took in his new surroundings.
"Ooh, Athens… not a bad place to start, ne?" he mused aloud, his voice carrying the same nonchalant drawl that had become his trademark. The city was alive and loud, unaware of the entrance this strange visitor had made.
What Kizaru had no knowledge of was in Mount Olympus, the Greek gods started to stir to life, intrigued by this peculiar newcomer.
In his golden throne, king of the gods Zeus leaned forward, electric blue eyes narrowed. "What manner of being is this?" he thundered, his voice shaking the very foundations of Olympus.
Athena, goddess of wisdom, stood at his right hand, her grey eyes calculating, her mind trying to unravel the enigma that was Kizaru. "He is unlike anything I have ever seen, father." Her mind raced in circles.
Back in Athens, Kizaru was walking around the agora. He passed the people, who stared at him as he went through his business.
He stopped at a fruit stall and plucked a ripe fig from the bunch before him. "Ooh, this looks delicious, ne?" he said to the wide-eyed merchant, who could only nod mutely in response.
As Kizaru chomped down, enjoying the taste, he wasn't aware that he had been brought to the attention of Heaven itself only predicting it. His mind raced with the prospects of what this means for this new world.
On Olympus, Ares, god of war, paced restlessly. "We should strike now!" he snarled, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Before this being becomes a threat."
The Goddess of Love and Beauty laughed melodiously. "Oh, always ready to violence, Ares." She cast a wicked glance downward at Kizaru. "Perhaps we should observe him first."
The sun began to wane over Athens, casting the sky in shades of gold and crimson as Kizaru found himself atop the Acropolis. Looking out over the city, a contented sigh escaped Kizaru's lips.
"Maa, maa, this world definitely does have potential, ne?" he murmured to himself, oblivious to the divine machinations already in motion.
Nightfall found Kizaru's form bathed in the soft glow of his powers; he was wholly unconcerned with the knowledge that every last one of his actions had been observed, dissected, and deliberated over by the pantheon of Greek gods.
Kizaru stepped out just as the marble columns of Athens received the first rays of sunlight. He almost found himself surrounded by a group of grim officials, and by the look on their narrowed gazes, all laden with suspicion, they looked over his striking yellow suit and the casual air of power that he seemed to exude.
"Ooh, what's this? A welcoming committee?" he drawled further, the lazy grin on his face almost mocking when contrasted with the tension in the air.
The chief official, a grizzled man with a face like weathered leather, stepped forward. "Stranger, your presence here is unsettling. Everything about you speaks of foreign lands and unknown powers."
Kizaru's raised eyebrows went up a bit further. "Maa, maa, is that so?" He chortled, and the sound went a long way toward sending at least a few shivers involuntarily down the spines of the Athenians. "Not to worry, not to worry. I'm just a sightseer. Ne?"
A silent glance was exchanged among the officials, an unease palpable. The leader cleared his throat when the lead official next spoke. "Words are wind, stranger. If you wish to walk freely in Athens, you should prove your trustworthiness."
Kizaru's grin broadened; there was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "Ooh, a test? How interesting." He stretched his arms above his head languidly, apparently not concerned at all. "What did you have in mind, ne?"
The eyes of the official narrowed even further. "The sacred olive tree of Athena on the Acropolis has been falling ill. Not a human touch has brought it back to life. If you can restore this tree to health, then we know the gods favor you."
The gears were turning in Kizaru's head as he slowly nodded his assent. "Let's go, then," he said to the officials, waving them on.
As the steps pounded up the Acropolis, whispers followed on their heels. They soon approached the sacred olive tree, its leaves withered and branches drooping. Kizaru went nearer it, his usual laid-back manner replaced with a look of determination.
"Ooh, this's really quite the challenge, ne?" he mused more to himself than to his audience. He raised a hand to the gnarled trunk of the tree and closed his eyes in concentration.
Not that the people on this platform knew it, but Kizaru drew deep upon that immense well of power. He brought the raw energy manipulation of his Goku-like powers together with the subtle influence of the Force. A golden light began to pulse from his hand, seeping into the tree.
There were gasps from the officials as withered leaves unfurled and turned a vibrant green. New branches sprouted where there were none. In just a few moments, the tree was colossal and whole, tall and healthy, as if a few centuries' worth of silent growth had been compressed into those few moments.
Kizaru took a step back, his idle grin returning. He turned towards the officials and crooned, "Maa, maa, is that really satisfactory?".
Up at the top of Mount Olympus, the gods looked on in petrified silence. Athena's eyes widened, her hand on her spear in a death grip. "This… this can't be true," she whispered.
Zeus leaned forward, his face screwed up. "It appears, dear daughter, that we have greatly underestimated this visitor."
Back at the Acropolis, the chief official dropped to his knees in front of Kizaru. "Forgive us, great one," he stammered. "We didn't know. Do you think yourself divine?"
Kizaru chuckled and waved his hand. "Ooh, no need for that. I'm just a visitor, like I said." His eyes glinted with humor. "Now, about that free passage through Athens."
Kizaru was escorted through the grand halls of the Athenian palace when the sun reached its highest point. The officials, though definitely quite awestruck by his performance at the Acropolis, advanced him into the room where the throne stood with a kind of mixture of reverence and trepidation. "Ooh, all this fuss for little old me?" Kizaru drawled, the smile languidly in place.
When the huge doors opened, they revealed a sumptuous chamber, rich with gold and marble. Upon a brilliant throne set in the center, sat King Theseus, hero of Athens and slayer of the Minotaur. When the king's eyes set upon the bold figure of Kizaru, they went wide.
"Your Majesty," began one official, his voice wavering. "This is Borsalino, a visitor of great power."
Kizaru eyed him with a lazy wave.
Theseus rose from his throne, his brow furred with a mix of curiosity and wariness. " Borsalino," he enunciated slowly, testing the name on his tongue, "I've heard chatters of your miraculous, ahem, deed at the Acropolis."
Kizaru shrugged, his nonchalance a stark contrast to the tension in the room. "Maa, maa, it was nothing special. Just a little tree hugging, ne?"
The king eyed him warily, accusing him of being a God.
Despite Kizaru's protests, Theseus was not convinced. Clapping his hands, all his servants went to their works. "We'll have a feast for you, Borsalino! Let all of Athens know you've come!"
The banquet of the palace had laughter, revelling, delight, and all went merry through the running wine and roasted meats and mellow fruits. Kizaru was stretched upon a couch of gold with many nobles and officials hedging for his attention.
"Tell us great Borsalino," one drunken nobleman mumbled. "From which Olympus do you reign?"
Kizaru lazily sipped his wine. "Haha, you're still pulling my leg? I've just told you I'm not a god." He gave a teasing grin. "I guess it means I'm still pretty cool, though."
As the feast went on, whispers ran through the party. Some suggested that this was possibly Apollo in disguise, while others hammered in serenely that he should be a new god altogether. Theseus looked on from his throne, the thoughts racing in his mind.
"What if he tells the truth, Your Majesty?" a trusted advisor asked in a whisper. "And he is not deity... but something else?"
Theseus' brow creased at the thought but he made no movement of his eyes from Kizaru's relaxed pose. "Then, my friend, we may be in the presence of that which had surpassed the Gods of Olympus."
The night was growing and the dark was coming. Kizaru was standing and looking at the view of the city below him, flickering with the twinkles of oil lamp lights. With a lazy smile, he thought about what adventure was waiting although he whispered by himself, "Maa maa, this world is full of surprises ne?"
What he was unaware of, in the heights of Mount Olympus, was that the gods were in a great uproar: divine eyes riveted on this inquisitive visitor who so casually turned upside down their world.
In the luxurious chambers of his palace atop Mount Olympus, the hushed whispers of the gods turned into a frenzy of tensely heated arguments as the soft snores of Kizaru resonated across his room. Zeus, crackling with barely leashed lighting, his beard flowing in front of him, paced the gleaming marble floor back and forth.
"This.. Borsalino," he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder, "wields power beyond our comprehension. What are we to do?"
Athena's grey eyes snapped smartly in their calculations. "Father, we should approach this humbly. He has not lied to the mortals, and he has not tried to take away our authority."
Ares, always wanting conflict, growled, "I said it before, and I'll say it again, we should strike now before he becomes too strong!"
Hera was next, regal and composed, raising a hand for silence. "Let us not act too rashly. This Borsalino, as strange as he is, has not shown any ill intent. Perhaps we overreact."
Apollo agreed, his golden hair shimmering in the eternal light of Olympus. "Indeed, sister. I sense no malevolence from him. His power. It's different from ours, but not necessarily a threat."
Little did they know that their fears, though understandable, were wildly misplaced. For all his incredible panoply of abilities—his Goku-like manipulation of energy, his Force-like mental supremacy, his Luthor-level mind—he was but a drop in the ocean compared to the true might of just one Olympian.
Waking in the castle, Kizaru turned fitfully even in his sleep, that lazy smile apparently permanently stuck to his handsome features. He dreamed of his home world: Akainu's stern face and Aokiji's cool demeanor, the vast expanse of the Grand Line. "Maa, maa," he murmured in his sleep, "what a troublesome situation, ne?"
On Olympus, even wily Hermes could not help a chuckle: "You know," he sighed, twirling his caduceus, "for all our worry, has anyone actually tried to measure this Borsalino's power?"
The gods quieted, exchanging uneasy looks like nervous pigeons, and Dionysus, with cheeks flushed by endless wine, hiccupped, "Well, no, but did you see what he did to Athena's olive tree? That's got to count for something!"
Hephaestus spoke up, his gnarled hands stilling from their constant tinkering. "Perhaps. perhaps we're looking at this all wrong. What if he's not a threat, but an opportunity?"
Zeus, pondered, his brow finally untwisting when he out of great thought nodded for whatever he was thinking. "We shall watch and wait," he decreed. "This Borsalino has not acted against us or our realm. Until he does, we will not move against him."
The gods quickly dispersed, their fears somewhat allayed but their curiosity piqued. Kizaru, of course, went on to sleep again, for he was above and beyond such dramas among the gods. His happy dreams remained untroubled as a new visitor came soon to be with Kizaru.
Kizaru awoke with the first light of dawn, reluctantly tearing himself away from his dreams with every display of luxury that could be imagined draped in his palace chamber. His eyes, hidden behind the ubiquitous amber-tinted glasses, fluttered open to an unusual sight. Lo and behold, there sat a woman of ethereal beauty on the edge of his bed.
"Ooh? What's this now? A wake-up call, ne?" Kizaru drawled, his voice thick with sleep but still carrying that characteristic nonchalance.
The woman smiled—the gesture seemed to light up the whole room. "I am Aphrodite, your goddess of love and beauty," she purred—her voice was honey and silk. "I simply had to meet the mysterious visitor who has all of Olympus in such a tizzy."
Kizaru sat up, his yellow suit miraculously unwrinkled despite a night of sleep. He couldn't help feeling an arousing flutter upon recognition of the goddess's stunning face, such as no woman he had been with before. But a voice from his mind, doubtfully similar to Akainu's, told him to beware.
"Maa, maa, goddess, is it? Now is that going to be tiresome?" Kizaru replied, stretching a bit. "Gods, I certainly hope not to get changed into a tree by you or anything. That would be the most inconvenient, ne?"
Aphrodite chuckled—bell-like and merry. "You are amusing! So different from the haughty gods and fearful mortals I must deal with daily."
As they chattered away, the more Kizaru found himself drawn to the goddess. His apparent demeanor—relaxed, yet somehow on edge—and the way he spoke so oddly for a divine being seemed to intrigue Aphrodite, who for centuries had only been worshipped or feared with unadulterated respect.
"Tell me, Borsalino," she cooed, wrapping a wisp around his arm, "what kind of creature are you to hold such… allure."
Kizaru's smile was nigh terrifying—though the goddess felt thrilled, she could not resist chuckling. "Ooh, you flatter me. But I'm just a simple man with a few tricks up his sleeve, ne?"
Kizaru couldn't help it, despite his distrust and disbelief towards this state of affairs. Aphrodite was the embodiment of beauty itself, and being interested in him from the corner of her eye was a compliment. But, on the other hand, into his mind flashed ancient Greek mythology that he had heard about his world, of the divine scattering of children—the tales of liaison that hardly ever turned out beneficially for whosoever the mortal that corresponded to the gods chanced to be.
In short the Gods were most of the time evil to their mortals and he wanted no part of it.
"What you know," Kizaru drawled, with mischief in his voice. "Where I come from, we've got this saying: 'If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.' Ne?"
Aphrodite's eyes sparkled with amusement and something deeper. "And where exactly do you come from, mysterious Borsalino?"
The room was heavy with tension, a combination of attraction and danger, as they managed to carry on with their banter. Kizaru was walking a very fine line: his natural charm and easy-going nature drew Aphrodite in, but his intellect kept him from falling too deeply into her web.
"Maa, maa, it was a real pleasure, Aphrodite-san," said Kizaru at length, rising from the bed with liquid grace. "But I'm afraid I have a busy day ahead. Places to go, people to see— you understand."
Aphrodite pouted, something that would have brought lesser men to their knees. "You're not like the others, are you, Borsalino? You fascinate me."
Kizaru grinned, tipping an imaginary hat. "I get that a lot. Now, if you'll excuse me."
He left the chamber behind, leaving a confused, bemused goddess, who couldn't help but be drawn to him, and could not keep the chuckle from coming forth as he sauntered away. "Ooh, what a troublesome world this is," he murmured. "Akainu would have a fit if he could see me now, ne?"
The goddess of love had found a new obsession.
Kizaru strolled down the sun-dappled streets of Athens, a beacon of yellow in a sea of passersby until he came face to face with the hero-king of legend, Theseus.
The mortal's eyes widened as he craned his neck upward, suddenly realizing the true scale of the Admiral's imposing stature.
"By the gods," Theseus gasped, his voice a mixture of awe and reverence. "I… I hadn't noticed before... You're… you're enormous!"
Kizaru's eternal lazy smile widened a fraction. "Ooh? Am I? I paid it no mind, ne? Maybe you're just shrinking, Theseus-san."
Theseus was taken aback, but he composed himself very quickly. "Lord Kizaru, I have a proposition for you. I believe it's time we acknowledged your true nature."
"Maa, maa, what's this about now?" Kizaru drawled, his voice carrying that characteristic blend of amusement and disinterest.
"I wanna make you a governor," Theseus insisted, his voice perfect with the conviction of a man on a mission. "Surely, a being of your stature deserves to be in a position of power, in our fair city."
Kizaru's eyebrows rose over his tinted glasses. "A governor? Ooh, that sounds like a lot of work, ne? I'm more of… how do you say? a free spirit?"
Theseus, however, was not one to be easily dissuaded. "My lord, please. Your wisdom, your power. They're wasted without a proper authority. People need a guide, and who better than a god walking among them?"
"There you go again with that 'god' talk," chuckled Kizaru, scratching his head lazily. "I told you, I am just a simple man with a few tricks up these raggedy sleeves."
"But—"
"Maa, maa, if it'll make you happy, I suppose I could give it a try," Kizaru replied at last, more to put an end to the discussion than from any real inclination. "Just don't expect me to work overtime, ne?"
As Kizaru and Theseus made their deal final with a handshake that would surely have turned any other mortal's fingers to powder, neither of them noticed a pair of suspicious eyes from the shadows.
Since laying eyes on him that morning, Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, had been following Kizaru's every bloody step. Her divine presence was proportional as it followed the admiral slowly through the city.
Everything he did—the most casual of gestures, the most drawling of words, and every flash of that absolutely infuriating grin—had goosebumps crawling on her immortal body.
"What is it about you, Borsalino?" she whispered to herself, her voice a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "Why can't I get you out of my mind?"
Unbeknownst to Aphrodite herself, she was not acting like the goddess of love but, rather, the goddess of desire. And she wasn't the only one who noted that. On high Mount Olympus, the god of war and her infrequent lover took notice and grew angrier by the second.
"Yellow-suit upstart." Ares growled as his hands closed over the arms of his throne, opening great rents in the leather as his fingers closed so tightly that ichor, the golden blood of the gods, began to seep through. "How dare he enchant Aphrodite? I'll show him the meaning of war soon enough."
The golden rays of the sun in Athens are reflected on the newly clothed Kizaru. The striking three-piece yellow suit is placed in a cedar chest for safekeeping. On its place is draped a flow of the purest white chiton with intricately worked out embroideries in golden thread over the tall frame of Kizaru. Resting on his head would be a golden laurel wreath to denote his newfound authority—governor.
"Maa, maa," Kizaru drawled, looking at his reflection in a shiny bronze mirror. "Isn't this really making a statement, ne? I mean, I feel like I'm supposed to be just splaying out on a cloud, eating grapes or something."
Despite such a lackadaisical attitude, Kizaru's mind showed in his ruling. The streets of Athens were abuzz with rumor regarding the new governor and his actually quite effective policies.
"Have you heard?" one whispered to the other. "The new governor put in a system of public works that's made it so unemployment is down by half."
"Then they say he found a way to solve the water shortage crisis by some kind of—a what does he call it?—'desalination' technique," another awed.
Kizaru overheard it as he strolled by and chuckled. "Ooh? Just a little trick I picked up in my travels… Nothing special, ne?"
Being very effective in his official duties, Kizaru spent a lot of time walking on the streets of Athens, with his mind drawing constant comparison with the world he left behind.
Passing by the bustling agora, he commented to Moe, "Maa, maa, this place is like old shopping districts back home. I don't see any Den Den Mushi shops around here, though. How troublesome."
He then spotted a group of little kids playing with a leather ball. "Ooh? No video games for you little ones, eh? I suppose some things never change, ne?"
"Akainu, old friend," he murmured to himself, a rare note of melancholy in his voice. "What would you make of all this? And Aokiji. I wonder if you'd find this place as 'cool' as your ice, ne?"
Author's Notes: Remember to support me on Patreon.
Bosillic | First Story centered around Kizaru | Patreon
"Ooh, Athens… not a bad place to start, ne?" he mused aloud, his voice carrying the same nonchalant drawl that had become his trademark. The city was alive and loud, unaware of the entrance this strange visitor had made.
What Kizaru had no knowledge of was in Mount Olympus, the Greek gods started to stir to life, intrigued by this peculiar newcomer.
In his golden throne, king of the gods Zeus leaned forward, electric blue eyes narrowed. "What manner of being is this?" he thundered, his voice shaking the very foundations of Olympus.
Athena, goddess of wisdom, stood at his right hand, her grey eyes calculating, her mind trying to unravel the enigma that was Kizaru. "He is unlike anything I have ever seen, father." Her mind raced in circles.
Back in Athens, Kizaru was walking around the agora. He passed the people, who stared at him as he went through his business.
He stopped at a fruit stall and plucked a ripe fig from the bunch before him. "Ooh, this looks delicious, ne?" he said to the wide-eyed merchant, who could only nod mutely in response.
As Kizaru chomped down, enjoying the taste, he wasn't aware that he had been brought to the attention of Heaven itself only predicting it. His mind raced with the prospects of what this means for this new world.
On Olympus, Ares, god of war, paced restlessly. "We should strike now!" he snarled, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Before this being becomes a threat."
The Goddess of Love and Beauty laughed melodiously. "Oh, always ready to violence, Ares." She cast a wicked glance downward at Kizaru. "Perhaps we should observe him first."
The sun began to wane over Athens, casting the sky in shades of gold and crimson as Kizaru found himself atop the Acropolis. Looking out over the city, a contented sigh escaped Kizaru's lips.
"Maa, maa, this world definitely does have potential, ne?" he murmured to himself, oblivious to the divine machinations already in motion.
Nightfall found Kizaru's form bathed in the soft glow of his powers; he was wholly unconcerned with the knowledge that every last one of his actions had been observed, dissected, and deliberated over by the pantheon of Greek gods.
Kizaru stepped out just as the marble columns of Athens received the first rays of sunlight. He almost found himself surrounded by a group of grim officials, and by the look on their narrowed gazes, all laden with suspicion, they looked over his striking yellow suit and the casual air of power that he seemed to exude.
"Ooh, what's this? A welcoming committee?" he drawled further, the lazy grin on his face almost mocking when contrasted with the tension in the air.
The chief official, a grizzled man with a face like weathered leather, stepped forward. "Stranger, your presence here is unsettling. Everything about you speaks of foreign lands and unknown powers."
Kizaru's raised eyebrows went up a bit further. "Maa, maa, is that so?" He chortled, and the sound went a long way toward sending at least a few shivers involuntarily down the spines of the Athenians. "Not to worry, not to worry. I'm just a sightseer. Ne?"
A silent glance was exchanged among the officials, an unease palpable. The leader cleared his throat when the lead official next spoke. "Words are wind, stranger. If you wish to walk freely in Athens, you should prove your trustworthiness."
Kizaru's grin broadened; there was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "Ooh, a test? How interesting." He stretched his arms above his head languidly, apparently not concerned at all. "What did you have in mind, ne?"
The eyes of the official narrowed even further. "The sacred olive tree of Athena on the Acropolis has been falling ill. Not a human touch has brought it back to life. If you can restore this tree to health, then we know the gods favor you."
The gears were turning in Kizaru's head as he slowly nodded his assent. "Let's go, then," he said to the officials, waving them on.
As the steps pounded up the Acropolis, whispers followed on their heels. They soon approached the sacred olive tree, its leaves withered and branches drooping. Kizaru went nearer it, his usual laid-back manner replaced with a look of determination.
"Ooh, this's really quite the challenge, ne?" he mused more to himself than to his audience. He raised a hand to the gnarled trunk of the tree and closed his eyes in concentration.
Not that the people on this platform knew it, but Kizaru drew deep upon that immense well of power. He brought the raw energy manipulation of his Goku-like powers together with the subtle influence of the Force. A golden light began to pulse from his hand, seeping into the tree.
There were gasps from the officials as withered leaves unfurled and turned a vibrant green. New branches sprouted where there were none. In just a few moments, the tree was colossal and whole, tall and healthy, as if a few centuries' worth of silent growth had been compressed into those few moments.
Kizaru took a step back, his idle grin returning. He turned towards the officials and crooned, "Maa, maa, is that really satisfactory?".
Up at the top of Mount Olympus, the gods looked on in petrified silence. Athena's eyes widened, her hand on her spear in a death grip. "This… this can't be true," she whispered.
Zeus leaned forward, his face screwed up. "It appears, dear daughter, that we have greatly underestimated this visitor."
Back at the Acropolis, the chief official dropped to his knees in front of Kizaru. "Forgive us, great one," he stammered. "We didn't know. Do you think yourself divine?"
Kizaru chuckled and waved his hand. "Ooh, no need for that. I'm just a visitor, like I said." His eyes glinted with humor. "Now, about that free passage through Athens."
Kizaru was escorted through the grand halls of the Athenian palace when the sun reached its highest point. The officials, though definitely quite awestruck by his performance at the Acropolis, advanced him into the room where the throne stood with a kind of mixture of reverence and trepidation. "Ooh, all this fuss for little old me?" Kizaru drawled, the smile languidly in place.
When the huge doors opened, they revealed a sumptuous chamber, rich with gold and marble. Upon a brilliant throne set in the center, sat King Theseus, hero of Athens and slayer of the Minotaur. When the king's eyes set upon the bold figure of Kizaru, they went wide.
"Your Majesty," began one official, his voice wavering. "This is Borsalino, a visitor of great power."
Kizaru eyed him with a lazy wave.
Theseus rose from his throne, his brow furred with a mix of curiosity and wariness. " Borsalino," he enunciated slowly, testing the name on his tongue, "I've heard chatters of your miraculous, ahem, deed at the Acropolis."
Kizaru shrugged, his nonchalance a stark contrast to the tension in the room. "Maa, maa, it was nothing special. Just a little tree hugging, ne?"
The king eyed him warily, accusing him of being a God.
Despite Kizaru's protests, Theseus was not convinced. Clapping his hands, all his servants went to their works. "We'll have a feast for you, Borsalino! Let all of Athens know you've come!"
The banquet of the palace had laughter, revelling, delight, and all went merry through the running wine and roasted meats and mellow fruits. Kizaru was stretched upon a couch of gold with many nobles and officials hedging for his attention.
"Tell us great Borsalino," one drunken nobleman mumbled. "From which Olympus do you reign?"
Kizaru lazily sipped his wine. "Haha, you're still pulling my leg? I've just told you I'm not a god." He gave a teasing grin. "I guess it means I'm still pretty cool, though."
As the feast went on, whispers ran through the party. Some suggested that this was possibly Apollo in disguise, while others hammered in serenely that he should be a new god altogether. Theseus looked on from his throne, the thoughts racing in his mind.
"What if he tells the truth, Your Majesty?" a trusted advisor asked in a whisper. "And he is not deity... but something else?"
Theseus' brow creased at the thought but he made no movement of his eyes from Kizaru's relaxed pose. "Then, my friend, we may be in the presence of that which had surpassed the Gods of Olympus."
The night was growing and the dark was coming. Kizaru was standing and looking at the view of the city below him, flickering with the twinkles of oil lamp lights. With a lazy smile, he thought about what adventure was waiting although he whispered by himself, "Maa maa, this world is full of surprises ne?"
What he was unaware of, in the heights of Mount Olympus, was that the gods were in a great uproar: divine eyes riveted on this inquisitive visitor who so casually turned upside down their world.
In the luxurious chambers of his palace atop Mount Olympus, the hushed whispers of the gods turned into a frenzy of tensely heated arguments as the soft snores of Kizaru resonated across his room. Zeus, crackling with barely leashed lighting, his beard flowing in front of him, paced the gleaming marble floor back and forth.
"This.. Borsalino," he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder, "wields power beyond our comprehension. What are we to do?"
Athena's grey eyes snapped smartly in their calculations. "Father, we should approach this humbly. He has not lied to the mortals, and he has not tried to take away our authority."
Ares, always wanting conflict, growled, "I said it before, and I'll say it again, we should strike now before he becomes too strong!"
Hera was next, regal and composed, raising a hand for silence. "Let us not act too rashly. This Borsalino, as strange as he is, has not shown any ill intent. Perhaps we overreact."
Apollo agreed, his golden hair shimmering in the eternal light of Olympus. "Indeed, sister. I sense no malevolence from him. His power. It's different from ours, but not necessarily a threat."
Little did they know that their fears, though understandable, were wildly misplaced. For all his incredible panoply of abilities—his Goku-like manipulation of energy, his Force-like mental supremacy, his Luthor-level mind—he was but a drop in the ocean compared to the true might of just one Olympian.
Waking in the castle, Kizaru turned fitfully even in his sleep, that lazy smile apparently permanently stuck to his handsome features. He dreamed of his home world: Akainu's stern face and Aokiji's cool demeanor, the vast expanse of the Grand Line. "Maa, maa," he murmured in his sleep, "what a troublesome situation, ne?"
On Olympus, even wily Hermes could not help a chuckle: "You know," he sighed, twirling his caduceus, "for all our worry, has anyone actually tried to measure this Borsalino's power?"
The gods quieted, exchanging uneasy looks like nervous pigeons, and Dionysus, with cheeks flushed by endless wine, hiccupped, "Well, no, but did you see what he did to Athena's olive tree? That's got to count for something!"
Hephaestus spoke up, his gnarled hands stilling from their constant tinkering. "Perhaps. perhaps we're looking at this all wrong. What if he's not a threat, but an opportunity?"
Zeus, pondered, his brow finally untwisting when he out of great thought nodded for whatever he was thinking. "We shall watch and wait," he decreed. "This Borsalino has not acted against us or our realm. Until he does, we will not move against him."
The gods quickly dispersed, their fears somewhat allayed but their curiosity piqued. Kizaru, of course, went on to sleep again, for he was above and beyond such dramas among the gods. His happy dreams remained untroubled as a new visitor came soon to be with Kizaru.
Kizaru awoke with the first light of dawn, reluctantly tearing himself away from his dreams with every display of luxury that could be imagined draped in his palace chamber. His eyes, hidden behind the ubiquitous amber-tinted glasses, fluttered open to an unusual sight. Lo and behold, there sat a woman of ethereal beauty on the edge of his bed.
"Ooh? What's this now? A wake-up call, ne?" Kizaru drawled, his voice thick with sleep but still carrying that characteristic nonchalance.
The woman smiled—the gesture seemed to light up the whole room. "I am Aphrodite, your goddess of love and beauty," she purred—her voice was honey and silk. "I simply had to meet the mysterious visitor who has all of Olympus in such a tizzy."
Kizaru sat up, his yellow suit miraculously unwrinkled despite a night of sleep. He couldn't help feeling an arousing flutter upon recognition of the goddess's stunning face, such as no woman he had been with before. But a voice from his mind, doubtfully similar to Akainu's, told him to beware.
"Maa, maa, goddess, is it? Now is that going to be tiresome?" Kizaru replied, stretching a bit. "Gods, I certainly hope not to get changed into a tree by you or anything. That would be the most inconvenient, ne?"
Aphrodite chuckled—bell-like and merry. "You are amusing! So different from the haughty gods and fearful mortals I must deal with daily."
As they chattered away, the more Kizaru found himself drawn to the goddess. His apparent demeanor—relaxed, yet somehow on edge—and the way he spoke so oddly for a divine being seemed to intrigue Aphrodite, who for centuries had only been worshipped or feared with unadulterated respect.
"Tell me, Borsalino," she cooed, wrapping a wisp around his arm, "what kind of creature are you to hold such… allure."
Kizaru's smile was nigh terrifying—though the goddess felt thrilled, she could not resist chuckling. "Ooh, you flatter me. But I'm just a simple man with a few tricks up his sleeve, ne?"
Kizaru couldn't help it, despite his distrust and disbelief towards this state of affairs. Aphrodite was the embodiment of beauty itself, and being interested in him from the corner of her eye was a compliment. But, on the other hand, into his mind flashed ancient Greek mythology that he had heard about his world, of the divine scattering of children—the tales of liaison that hardly ever turned out beneficially for whosoever the mortal that corresponded to the gods chanced to be.
In short the Gods were most of the time evil to their mortals and he wanted no part of it.
"What you know," Kizaru drawled, with mischief in his voice. "Where I come from, we've got this saying: 'If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.' Ne?"
Aphrodite's eyes sparkled with amusement and something deeper. "And where exactly do you come from, mysterious Borsalino?"
The room was heavy with tension, a combination of attraction and danger, as they managed to carry on with their banter. Kizaru was walking a very fine line: his natural charm and easy-going nature drew Aphrodite in, but his intellect kept him from falling too deeply into her web.
"Maa, maa, it was a real pleasure, Aphrodite-san," said Kizaru at length, rising from the bed with liquid grace. "But I'm afraid I have a busy day ahead. Places to go, people to see— you understand."
Aphrodite pouted, something that would have brought lesser men to their knees. "You're not like the others, are you, Borsalino? You fascinate me."
Kizaru grinned, tipping an imaginary hat. "I get that a lot. Now, if you'll excuse me."
He left the chamber behind, leaving a confused, bemused goddess, who couldn't help but be drawn to him, and could not keep the chuckle from coming forth as he sauntered away. "Ooh, what a troublesome world this is," he murmured. "Akainu would have a fit if he could see me now, ne?"
The goddess of love had found a new obsession.
Kizaru strolled down the sun-dappled streets of Athens, a beacon of yellow in a sea of passersby until he came face to face with the hero-king of legend, Theseus.
The mortal's eyes widened as he craned his neck upward, suddenly realizing the true scale of the Admiral's imposing stature.
"By the gods," Theseus gasped, his voice a mixture of awe and reverence. "I… I hadn't noticed before... You're… you're enormous!"
Kizaru's eternal lazy smile widened a fraction. "Ooh? Am I? I paid it no mind, ne? Maybe you're just shrinking, Theseus-san."
Theseus was taken aback, but he composed himself very quickly. "Lord Kizaru, I have a proposition for you. I believe it's time we acknowledged your true nature."
"Maa, maa, what's this about now?" Kizaru drawled, his voice carrying that characteristic blend of amusement and disinterest.
"I wanna make you a governor," Theseus insisted, his voice perfect with the conviction of a man on a mission. "Surely, a being of your stature deserves to be in a position of power, in our fair city."
Kizaru's eyebrows rose over his tinted glasses. "A governor? Ooh, that sounds like a lot of work, ne? I'm more of… how do you say? a free spirit?"
Theseus, however, was not one to be easily dissuaded. "My lord, please. Your wisdom, your power. They're wasted without a proper authority. People need a guide, and who better than a god walking among them?"
"There you go again with that 'god' talk," chuckled Kizaru, scratching his head lazily. "I told you, I am just a simple man with a few tricks up these raggedy sleeves."
"But—"
"Maa, maa, if it'll make you happy, I suppose I could give it a try," Kizaru replied at last, more to put an end to the discussion than from any real inclination. "Just don't expect me to work overtime, ne?"
As Kizaru and Theseus made their deal final with a handshake that would surely have turned any other mortal's fingers to powder, neither of them noticed a pair of suspicious eyes from the shadows.
Since laying eyes on him that morning, Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, had been following Kizaru's every bloody step. Her divine presence was proportional as it followed the admiral slowly through the city.
Everything he did—the most casual of gestures, the most drawling of words, and every flash of that absolutely infuriating grin—had goosebumps crawling on her immortal body.
"What is it about you, Borsalino?" she whispered to herself, her voice a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "Why can't I get you out of my mind?"
Unbeknownst to Aphrodite herself, she was not acting like the goddess of love but, rather, the goddess of desire. And she wasn't the only one who noted that. On high Mount Olympus, the god of war and her infrequent lover took notice and grew angrier by the second.
"Yellow-suit upstart." Ares growled as his hands closed over the arms of his throne, opening great rents in the leather as his fingers closed so tightly that ichor, the golden blood of the gods, began to seep through. "How dare he enchant Aphrodite? I'll show him the meaning of war soon enough."
The golden rays of the sun in Athens are reflected on the newly clothed Kizaru. The striking three-piece yellow suit is placed in a cedar chest for safekeeping. On its place is draped a flow of the purest white chiton with intricately worked out embroideries in golden thread over the tall frame of Kizaru. Resting on his head would be a golden laurel wreath to denote his newfound authority—governor.
"Maa, maa," Kizaru drawled, looking at his reflection in a shiny bronze mirror. "Isn't this really making a statement, ne? I mean, I feel like I'm supposed to be just splaying out on a cloud, eating grapes or something."
Despite such a lackadaisical attitude, Kizaru's mind showed in his ruling. The streets of Athens were abuzz with rumor regarding the new governor and his actually quite effective policies.
"Have you heard?" one whispered to the other. "The new governor put in a system of public works that's made it so unemployment is down by half."
"Then they say he found a way to solve the water shortage crisis by some kind of—a what does he call it?—'desalination' technique," another awed.
Kizaru overheard it as he strolled by and chuckled. "Ooh? Just a little trick I picked up in my travels… Nothing special, ne?"
Being very effective in his official duties, Kizaru spent a lot of time walking on the streets of Athens, with his mind drawing constant comparison with the world he left behind.
Passing by the bustling agora, he commented to Moe, "Maa, maa, this place is like old shopping districts back home. I don't see any Den Den Mushi shops around here, though. How troublesome."
He then spotted a group of little kids playing with a leather ball. "Ooh? No video games for you little ones, eh? I suppose some things never change, ne?"
"Akainu, old friend," he murmured to himself, a rare note of melancholy in his voice. "What would you make of all this? And Aokiji. I wonder if you'd find this place as 'cool' as your ice, ne?"
Author's Notes: Remember to support me on Patreon.
Bosillic | First Story centered around Kizaru | Patreon