A few days had passed since we arrived here.
We had mostly spent our time training, sharpening our instincts, pushing our limits. The sun had risen again on Kokoyashi, casting its warm glow across the village rooftops.
Standing near the outskirts where the trees began to thin out, I broke the silence.
"It's time." I said plainly.
Beckman, leaning against a fence post with his rifle slung over his shoulder, nodded toward the road. "The marines are heading back to the base today."
Mihawk gave a short nod in agreement, arms crossed. "We take what we came for, then we move on."
I looked toward the horizon, where a small column of marine recruits was just beginning to depart the village.
"Then let's get moving." I added.
When we made our way to the port, there was a bit of movement. Villagers were gathered to see off their loved ones, those serving in the Marine ranks. Hugs, last-minute advice, and proud farewells filled the air as the marine recruits prepared to depart.
"Two years from now, I'll be one of you!" said a voice nearby, clear and determined.
I turned my head toward it and spotted her, Bell-mère.
We had come across her a few times during our stay here. Always getting into some kind of trouble or heated exchange.
I didn't dwell on it. Our business lay elsewhere.
Without a word, we boarded our ship. The wood creaked beneath our steps as we took our positions.
The sails were ready.
We had taken to the sea shortly after the Marines set sail. During our few days in the village, we'd let them believe we were interested in joining their ranks, just a few more hopeful recruits looking for purpose. It hadn't taken much effort. A few casual questions, some fake enthusiasm, and the rest played out naturally.
Now, out at sea, it didn't take long before the silhouette of a Marine base appeared on the horizon.
"There it is. The 16th Branch base." Beckman muttered as he leaned over the railing, narrowing his eyes.
On the ship ahead of us, one of the marines shouted. "We're here!" His voice echoed faintly across the waves.
He then turned to speak with the stationed guards at the coast. After a brief exchange, the gates of the harbor began to open with a heavy mechanical groan.
We stepped onto solid ground, keeping our composure as officers approached to greet us.
"You three, in the line with the recruits." one of them ordered, pointing toward a group of new enlistees.
"Sign these papers and write down your names." another officer added briskly, handing us forms. "Tomorrow, we'll see what you're made of."
We complied. Once that was done, we were shown to our assigned quarters—modest rooms, clean enough.
After spending a few days here, we came to understand something, only those who show real promise are granted access to the techniques. Which makes perfect sense.
The Marines weren't about to hand over their guarded secrets to just anyone.
You had to prove yourself, strength, discipline, potential. Without those, you'd never even get close to the Rokushiki techniques, the advanced combat forms, maybe even access to Haki training if you were lucky.
But we weren't here to climb the ranks. We were here to take what we needed and disappear before anyone caught on.
Later one evening, once the base had quieted and most lights had dimmed, the three of us regrouped in a shadowy corner near our rooms.
"We'll search the place tonight and leave." I said, my voice low.
Mihawk simply gave a nod, already focus.
Beckman cracked his neck and let out a sigh.
Without wasting any time, we moved into action.
We knew a high-ranking training officer was stationed here, which meant our window for success had to be silent. There was no room for hesitation, no room for mercy.
Every Marine we crossed paths with was taken out on the spot. Knocking them out wasn't an option. If even one of them woke up too soon and alerted reinforcements, it would compromise everything. We needed this mission to be clean.
No witnesses. No chances left behind.
As we moved through the halls, bodies left in our wake, a thought crept into my mind. 'We've ended up eliminating more people than I expected.'
The deeper we went, the more committed we became.
We finally reached the command offices of the base, the heart of the operation.
"I'll break down the door." I said calmly, then charged it without hesitation. The door gave way with a loud crack, splintering off its hinges as we stormed inside.
We immediately scattered and began searching through cabinets, drawers, and locked cases, papers flying, wood creaking.
"I got them." Beckman called out, holding up a set of folders, the documents we came for. Techniques, reports, training schedules… all of it.
"Good. Let's move." I said.
But just as we turned to leave, something didn't sit right. My instincts screamed, a sixth sense honed from battle.
We stepped out of the office and were immediately met with a heavy presence, a man standing at the end of the hall, face shadowed by dim light but eyes burning with fury.
"Pirates…" he muttered, voice trembling not with fear, but with disdain. "It's always goddamn pirates…"
He stepped forward, the tension in his posture like a coiled spring. His uniform marked him as someone high, not just another officer. A veteran. Someone who'd seen too much and was long past tolerance.
"I'm sick of this shit."
His words dripped with venom and exhaustion. His eyes scanned the corridor, the bodies, the broken door. And then they locked onto me, rage, recognition, and the promise of violence all flashing in a single look.
Yes, Zephyr, himself stood at the far end of the corridor.
'Shit.' The word echoed in my mind.
There was no time to think. He didn't hesitate.
Zephyr launched forward like a cannonball, the floor beneath him cracking under the force of his step. His fist came fast.
I barely managed to raise my guard.
BAM.
Pain exploded through my arms and ribs as my body was hurled backward like a ragdoll. I crashed through the wall behind me, not just one, but two — concrete and steel crumbling as I slammed into the far end of the next room.
Dust and rubble rained down around me.