"Any last words?" Gyaro asked mockingly while raising my Barbossa sword up.
GRIND!
RUMBLE!
SCRAPE!
The rubble around me began to move with increasing speed, grinding together as it prepared to crush me from all sides. The sound was like a rockslide mixed with the growl of some enormous predator.
I looked up at him, letting a small smile cross my face as I raised my flintlock and began expanding the Hamon Ether circle to its absolute maximum size.
"I do have one last thing to say," I replied, my voice calm despite the chaos of grinding stone around me.
The golden light grew brighter and brighter, humming with concentrated Ripple energy as air began to spiral into its center.
The air around the circle was now spinning fast enough to create visible distortions, like looking through a lens made of pure motion.
WHIRRRRRRR!
The sound was getting louder, more dangerous. The compressed air at the center of my Hamon circle was now glowing white, spinning so fast it was creating its own miniature tornado.
WHOOOOOOM!
From expanding the Ether circle to me aiming at Gyaro directly didn't even take one second.
"You are completely wrong; I made that sword myself."
I could see Gyaro's confident expression faltering slightly as he realized something was wrong.
'Hamon—Wind Cannon!'
KAAAABOOOOOOMMM!!!!!
The concentrated burst of air and Hamon energy erupted from the circle like it had been shot from the world's most powerful cannon. The sphere of compressed air launched forward in a perfectly straight line.
The shockwave alone was enough to scatter the debris surrounding me like confetti in a hurricane.
KRRRRRRRAAAAACK!
"WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
The wind blast struck Gyaro dead center, lifting his massive frame off the ground like he weighed nothing more than a paper doll.
His scream of shock and pain was lost in the displaced air as he flew backwards, smashing through three buildings' debris before finally slamming into a huge pile of rubble.
SLAM!!
BAAAMMM!!
The impact sounded like a building collapsing.
'All of that training wasn't for nothing…'
The concept of the Hamon—Wind Cannon is simple, it uses the ability of the Hamon Propeller and builds up on it, as instead of just pushing the wind through the Ether circle like a fan, it pushes it toward the center of the circle and concentrates it in a bubble made of Hamon Ether.
After the bubble is filled, I use the Ether to compress the Air inside it even further, then release it toward the target after the pressure is built up, creating this wind blast that moves at a supersonic speed.
While the concept is simple, the trick is to use it at the fastest speed to generate the best effect. As among the Hamon Cannon series, the Wind Cannon is supposed to be the fastest.
'Technique successful. Target hit. Hamon reserves…at seventy percent…Tsk, I had gone overboard with this one.'
And this is why I hate using this technique. Even as I watched it hit Gyaro directly, I could feel the massive drain on my Hamon reserves.
'It's flashy, it's powerful, and it makes me look like some kind of elemental wizard, but the cost...'
The Wind Cannon needs massive amounts of Hamon, and if that was not enough, it actually consumes Ether, as part of the Hamon Ether disperses with the blast.
Adding to all of that, it requires concentration I can barely maintain in combat.
'It's half-complete at best, a technique with too many inconveniences to rely on at a whim.'
But still, I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction as I surveyed the destruction. A perfectly straight path of devastation stretched from my position to where Gyaro had landed. Every piece of debris, every piece of concrete, every unfortunate thing in its path is obliterated by the concentrated wind blast.
'Now for the inconvenient part.'
I deepened my Hamon Breathing to recover as much as possible from the drain, and the golden glow was noticeably dimmer now.
I moved toward Gyaro's position, my feet pounding against the cracked concrete as I charged fresh Hamon energy into my remaining Ether reserves.
My Mantra painted a picture of Gyaro's condition as I approached.
He is now injured and in pain, but...
'Of course he's still alive. Nothing in this world is ever that simple.'
'GRAAAAAHHHHH!'
Gyaro's roar of rage echoed off the ruined fountain as he hauled himself to his feet, blood streaming from multiple cuts and his left arm hanging at an unnatural angle.
"HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE A FILTHY HUMAN HURT ME!"
'"Filthy human." How refreshingly original.' I continued my advance, flintlock reloaded and ready, the Gryffindor Sword gleaming with residual Hamon energy in my other hand.
But my amusement died quickly as Gyaro took a stance, raising the Barbossa Sword high.
"Fishman Karate—Shark Tile Hammer!"
WHOOOOSH!!! RUMBLE!!!
Gyaro swung the Sword at me, and a shockwave that rippled through the air itself was heading in my direction.
I channeled energy again into the Ether circle, the air began its familiar spiral dance, and without waiting for the maximum charge, as I want to keep the drain low, I launched the blast forward.
KAAABOOOM!!! CRAAASHHH!!!
The compressed air shot toward Gyaro, crashing against the shockwave of the Fishman Karate technique.
But Gyaro was learning. As his attack was stopped, he swung the sword again through the pile of water, and I knew what was coming next.
"Fishman Jujutsu—Sea Current Serpent!"
SPLASH!
WHOOOOSH!
HISSSS!
Water materialized out of literally thin air—not drawn from some water source, but materialized through sheer force of will and martial technique.
It started as small streams spiraling around his gestures, but within seconds, those streams had expanded into massive serpentine shapes that writhed through the air with disturbing lifelike intelligence.
Each serpent was easily ten feet long and thick as a telephone pole, its watery bodies undulating through the air as if swimming through invisible ocean currents. Their eyes—somehow more solid than the rest of their forms—gleamed with predatory hunger as they locked onto me with unnatural focus.
'Because, of course, he can summon water constructs out of thin air. Nothing can be normal for me.'
The lead serpent lunged toward me with the speed of a striking cobra, its watery maw gaping open to reveal rows of teeth that looked suspiciously solid for something made entirely of H2O.
I could hear the rush of displaced air as its massive coils whipped through the space where I'd been standing.
I raised my pistol again, feeling Hamon energy flow into the Ether as I shaped it into the familiar circle for my ranged attack. The golden power compressed a sphere of spinning air, building pressure until I could feel it vibrating against the Ether circle like a caged hurricane.
"Hamon—Wind Cannon!"
WHOOOOOOOSH!!
KAABOOOOOMM!!!
The wind blast smashed into the lead serpent's head with the force of a wrecking ball, and the effect was immediately spectacular. The construct didn't just disperse—it exploded into a cloud of superheated steam, the Hamon energy turning water into vapor so quickly that it created its own thunderclap.
HISSSS!
SPLASH!
PATTER-PATTER-PATTER!
Droplets of water rained down around me, each one sizzling where it hit the stone floor. But even as I celebrated the successful hit, two more serpents were already weaving around my attack vector, like they had enough intelligence to learn from their packmate's destruction.
The first one came at me low, its body skimming just above the ground like a living tsunami. The second approached from above, diving down with its coils spread wide to prevent escape.
'Coordinated attack. He can control them like they're using actual tactics.'
I pivoted on my heel, bringing the Gryffindor Sword around in a wide horizontal arc that hummed through the air.
'Hamon—Crushing wave!'
The Hamon-enhanced blade met the low-approaching serpent first, and the contact was like touching lightning to gasoline.
HISSSS! BOOM! SPLASH! SIZZLE!
Where the golden energy touched water, an instant bang occurred.
The serpent's head detonated in a spray of miniature water droplets, followed by its neck, then the rest of its body.
The diving serpent was trying to bite me from above just as I was dealing with the first one.
I reversed my grip on the Gryffindor Sword and, with a spin, I drove it backward into the serpent's body. The blade punched through the construct's watery flesh, and Hamon energy blasted outward from the point of contact.
FLASH! BOOM! SPLASH!
The serpent detonated like a water balloon filled with lightning, spraying steaming droplets that pattered to the floor around my feet.
"Fishman Jujutsu—Water Heart—Shark Pack!"
'Oh, for crying out loud.'
This time, I could actually see water vapor condensing around the sword, drawn from the humidity in the atmosphere and compressed into an increasingly dense blob.
SPLASH! ROAR! GNASH! CIRCLE!
The dozens of sharks that emerged were overwhelming, and he was making them surround me as he prepared what looked like another Fishman Karate technique.
'His ability to utilize the water in the surrounding atmosphere is alarming. I need to cut that off.'
My body was moving at the same time my thoughts were forming, sending the sun-like Ripple energy toward the Ether in the pistol.
This attack required significantly more Hamon than the wind version, and I could feel my Hamon reserves draining like water through a broken dam.
The Ether circle was formed, and this time, a sphere of concentrated flame formed in the center, crackling with heat and energy that made the air around it shimmer and warp like a desert mirage.
'Hamon—Fire Cannon!'
KABOOOOOMM!! BLAAAASTT!!!
The temperature in my immediate vicinity spiked by at least thirty degrees. Sweat instantly began beading on my forehead, and I had to squint against the brilliant light the fire sphere was throwing off.
FWOOOOOOOSH! ROOOOOAR! HISSSSSS!
The fire blast tore through the shark pack like a miniature sun going supernova. The leading edge of the flame vaporized the first three sharks instantly, turning them from solid water constructs into billowing clouds of superheated steam.
The sharks behind them tried to scatter, but the fire spread faster than they could move, consuming their watery forms and turning the entire area into a sauna that mixed with the smoke.
WHOOSH! STEAM! SIZZLE!
'Like this, because of the heat, the moisture and the air in general will be moving up, making his water techniques harder to use, but…'
The Fire Cannon is definitely more dramatic than the Wind version, but it's also significantly more draining on both my Hamon and the Ether, as the Hamon Ether gets burned when I use the ignition property of Hamon to use the Fire Cannon.
'I need to end this quickly before my Ether reserves are completely depleted.'
"THERE YOU ARE!"
Gyaro burst through the smoke like a guided missile, the Barbossa Sword raised above his head in both hands.
"Fishman Karate—Shark Arrows!"
WHOOOOSHHHH!!!
A rain of bullets like water drops was rushing toward me. He was switching to the smaller and less powerful moves as he was unable to use the larger ones.
'That's good at least,'
VOM VOM VOMVOMM VOOM VOM!!!!
/Long-range cutting attack while he was busy defending/
I deployed the Ether circle again to block the Shark Arrows, but Gyaro was coming toward me after it, wanting to overwhelm me with Shark Sword.
Without delay, I sent more Hamon to the Ether circle as I aimed it toward him.
'Hamon—Wind Cannon!'
"Fishman Karate—Shark Tile Sword!"
WHOOOOOSH! KABOOOOOMM!!
The two attacks met, causing a huge detonating sound, and sent the two of us flying back.
When I got my footing back, Gyaro roared as he swung the Barbossa sword at me, and following his motion, a wave of rubble, debris, and concrete was moving and rising at me like a raging tsunami.
CRACK! CRACK! WHRRRROOOOOOSH!!!
'No, according to his attacking pattern now…!'
I was about to use my sword to cut it, but stopped and switched to the Hamon Ether circle again, aiming it at Gyaro's position beyond the wave of rubble.
'He should be preparing another attack right behind this one!'
'Hamon—Wind Cannon!'
"Fishman Karate—Water Sho—GRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHH!!"
WHIRRRRRRR! KAABOOOMMM!!!
In the face of the rubble wave, I unleashed another wind blast, annihilating the attack. I saw a ball of water thrown by Gyaro being blasted, too, just like I expected.
But the drain in the Hamon is getting more and more…
'Tsk! This is bad.' He is far more troublesome than I ever thought. In this wizard-like fight, I am the one at a disadvantage. If this continues, I will be the one to fall first.
'Looks like I need to make a gamble.'
I took off running toward Gyaro while aiming my pistol at him, channeling most of the Hamon remaining in my system to the Ether circle, making it shine brighter and brighter.
'Hamon—Fire Cannon! Fire Cannon! Fire Cannon!'
KABOOOOOMM!! BLAAAASTT! BLAAAASTT! BLAAAASTT!!!
Three rapid blasts of superheated air burst outward, each one incinerating multiple rising piles of debris around Gyaro in brilliant flashes of flame, turning the area around him into a sea of fire.
But the cost was immediate and brutal. My Hamon reserves plummeted to dangerous levels, and I could see the Ether circle flickering and dissipating like smoke.
Without missing a beat, I reached into my waist bag with the hand holding the pistol, fingers finding the familiar glass bottle by touch alone.
I didn't bother opening the cork as I crushed the bottle directly, taking part of the Hamon in the Ether back to my system, replenishing my depleted reserves while restoring the Ether circle.
I entered the area of flame I created around Gyaro. The heat was so intense that I had to shield my eyes with my arm when I stormed through the walls of fire, feeling the exposed skin on my face tightening from the sudden temperature change.
In the middle of the fire, Gyaro was standing there not doing anything, just looking at me with a smirking look as if he was waiting for me.
'Wait, something's wrong—'
CRACK! WHOOOOSH! BURN!
—Usopp's Third Person POV—
The acrid smoke stung Usopp's nostrils as he gripped his slingshot tighter, knuckles white against the worn leather.
Around him, the villagers of Cocoyasi pressed forward, their borrowed weapons trembling in calloused hands. Their eyes burned with years of suppressed rage, finally unleashed.
But none of them celebrated.
Arlong Park sprawled before them like the ruins of some ancient monuments. Where once proud buildings had stood, now only rubble remained.
The massive tower that had dominated the park's center lay scattered across the courtyard, its stones scattered like broken teeth. Flames licked hungrily from the seaside, casting dancing shadows that made the destruction seem alive, writhing in the heat.
The fishmen were down. All of them. Kuroobi's unconscious form lay crumpled near what remained of the main gate, his karate gi torn and bloodied.
Chew sprawled face-first in a crater of his own making, courtesy of Usopp's bombardment.
Hatchan's multiple arms were tangled beneath chunks of masonry, and even the officers—those monsters who had terrorized this village for years—were nothing more than broken puppets now.
Only Arlong remained standing.
The saw-nosed fishman's chest heaved with each labored breath, crimson seeping from dozens of wounds.
His trademark arrogance had cracked like his beloved park, replaced by something Usopp had rarely seen in someone's eyes before—desperation.
Across from him, Luffy bounced on the balls of his feet, looking a bit wrecked but his grin still blazing with unshakeable confidence.
"That's all you got?" Luffy wiped blood from his lip.
Arlong's jaw unhinged with a sickening crack, revealing rows of serrated teeth. "I'll tear that throat out!"
They clashed again, fist meeting tooth, determination battling fury. But even as Usopp watched his captain match the fishman blow for blow, his stomach churned with unease.
This should have been their moment of triumph. Arlong was alone, surrounded, bleeding. One man—one fishman—against an army. He had to know he couldn't win.
So why wasn't anyone cheering?
The answer came like thunder from beyond the ruins.
BOOM!
The ground shuddered beneath Usopp's feet. A geyser of flame erupted from behind the collapsed tower, painting the sky orange and black.
The heat hit them a second later, a physical force that made everyone stagger backward. Even Arlong and Luffy paused their battle, heads turning toward the source of the explosion.
"What the hell is going on over there?" Genzo's scarred face was pale beneath his pinwheel hat. The village sheriff's hands shook as he gripped his rifle, and if Genzo was scared...
Another impact. This one is closer. A shockwave rolled through the rubble, rattling loose stones and sending up clouds of dust. Usopp's ears popped from the pressure change.
The fight between Hikigaya and that monster—Gyaro—was still raging.
Usopp's throat constricted.
When Hikigaya had stepped forward to fight him, their first clash had sent shockwaves rippling outward, cracking stone and shattering windows in buildings dozens of yards away.
That had been twenty minutes ago. Since then, the sounds from beyond the tower had only grown more violent, more terrible.
CRACK!
BOOM!
CRASH!
Another explosion lit the sky.
"This is insane," Johnny whispered, his usual cool demeanor nowhere to be found. "What kind of monster is that fishman?"
Yosaku nodded frantically beside him. "And Dead-Eyes-aniki... he's actually keeping up with it!"
'Keeping up. Was that what they were calling it?' To Usopp's eyes, it looked more like a controlled catastrophe. Every clash between those two fighters pushed the boundaries of what human beings should be capable of.
The very air around them seemed to ripple and tear with each exchange.
Nojiko stood nearby, her face tight with worry. "He's fighting that thing alone."
"It's his choice," Zoro said, but even the swordsman's voice carried an edge of concern. "This is a swordsman's battle."
'I…remember he said he was not a swordsman though,'
Sanji lit another cigarette with shaking fingers. "Yeah, well, swordsman's battle or not, at this rate they're gonna level what's left of this place."
The cook was right. Each explosion seemed stronger than the last, and the fires were spreading.
Usopp could see villagers on the far edge of the crowd beginning to back away, their faces etched with fear.
They'd come here and fought for revenge against Arlong, but what was happening beyond the tower... that was something else entirely.
Something beyond human.
Usopp's hands trembled as he checked the Ammo box hanging next to his bag. The weight of the Mini Bazooka rounds Hikigaya had given him—precious ammunition that could level buildings with one shot.
But what good would it do against monsters who fought like forces of nature?
A memory flashed through his mind: Kaya's parents, safe in their beds because Hikigaya had saved their lives.
The man had asked for nothing in return, had simply done what was right. And now he was over there, alone, fighting something that might be stronger than all of them combined.
ROOOOOAR.
The sound that erupted from beyond the tower wasn't human. It was pure rage given voice, a bellow that made every person in the crowd take an involuntary step backward. Even Arlong paused in his assault on Luffy, his scarred face turning toward the source of the roar with something that might have been respect.
Or fear.
"Gyaro's is fully revealing his true color," the saw-nosed fishman growled. "You'd better make the prayers for your friend."
Luffy's expression hardened. "Worry about yourself first."
But even as his captain spoke with characteristic confidence, Usopp could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fists clenched just a little tighter.
Another shockwave rolled through the ruins, stronger than before. This time, several villagers were knocked to their knees.
Cracks spider-webbed across the stone beneath their feet, and somewhere in the distance, Usopp heard the groan of weakened structures finally giving way.
"We should fall back," Genzo called out, his voice barely audible over the continuing sounds of destruction. "This is getting too dangerous."
But nobody moved.
They couldn't.
Because as terrifying as this was, they all knew the truth: if Hikigaya fell, if that monster Gyaro survived their battle, then all of this—Arlong's defeat, their liberation, everything they'd fought for—would mean nothing.
The fishman would tear through them like paper, and their brief moment of freedom would become just another tragedy.
So they stayed. Frozen between hope and terror, watching Luffy and Arlong trade blows while something far worse raged just beyond their sight.
Usopp wiped sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he was sure everyone could hear it.
This wasn't like fighting Captain Kuro or those other pirates they'd faced. This was different.
And they were standing right in the middle of it.
"Damn it," Zoro muttered, his hand moving instinctively to his sword hilts.
"I'm going to check on him," Zoro said, his voice cutting through the chaos like one of his blades. "This has gone on long enough."
He started walking toward the destruction, his steps measured and deliberate despite the mayhem surrounding them. Usopp watched him go, his stomach twisting into knots.
The sniper's mind raced.
'Hikigaya had helped my village, saved Kaya's parents, given me those precious Mini Bazooka rounds, and trusted me enough to give me a very important role in this battle.'
The man had shown more faith in Usopp than most people ever did, treating him not as a coward or a liar, but as a real sniper.
'A Real Sniper.'
The words echoed in his head as another thunderous crash shook the ground.
Usopp looked at the Mini Bazooka round in his hand.
Hikigaya had given it to him, had trusted him with it. Maybe... maybe there was something he could do. Maybe he could actually help instead of just standing here like a terrified spectator.
His legs were already moving before he'd finished the thought.
"I-I'm going too," he called out, his voice cracking on the words.
Zoro stopped, turning back to look at him with those sharp eyes. For a moment, the swordsman just stared, as if trying to measure something in Usopp's face. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Let's go."
—Hachiman's Third Person POV—
'Wait, something's wrong—'
CRACK! WHOOOOSH! BURN!
"HAHAHAHAH!!!! You Think You're Strong Because You Have Some Little Fire Tricks?! I'll Show You What Real Power Looks Like!!!"
Pain lanced through my body like molten needles as Gyaro's triumphant voice boomed through the fire-filled area.
The flames from my own Fire Cannon technique were whipping through the air from everywhere around me like fiery serpents with minds of their own.
The Barbossa Sword's object manipulation power was seizing control of my own attack, turning concentrated Hamon fire into weapons aimed directly at their creator.
'DAMN!!!'
A tendril of white-hot flame lashed across my left shoulder, and the pain was beyond description. It wasn't just burning—it was like having liquid sunlight poured directly onto exposed nerve endings.
My cloak caught fire instantly, the fabric igniting in flames that spread across my back with terrifying speed.
"WAAAAAHHHH!!!!!"
'Fuk! Fuk! Fuk! Fuk!!!!'
SEAR! BURN!
More fire tendrils struck me—one across my right forearm, another along my ribs, a third wrapping around my thigh like a blazing rope. Each contact point felt like being branded with white-hot iron, and I could smell my own flesh sizzling where the flames made contact.
'Get The Cloak Off! Get It Off Before It Burns Through To Skin!'
I tore at the burning fabric with desperate fingers, feeling the heat blistering my palms as I ripped the cloak away from my body. The garment crackled with consuming flames as I threw it aside, the fire so intense that it left scorch marks on the destroyed stone floor where it landed.
Through the smoke and pain, something even more bizarre happened.
The Gryffindor Sword was being wrenched from my grasp by invisible force. The familiar weight of its hilt slipped through my fingers despite my desperate attempt to maintain my grip.
CLANG! RING!
The blade went tumbling through the air like a silver coin flipped by a giant, its surface catching and reflecting the firelight as it spun end over end.
'GOD DAMN IT!!'
The flames were still dancing around me, controlled by Gyaro's will and the Barbossa Sword's power. I was trapped in a cage of my own making, surrounded by weaponized versions of my own technique.
Gyaro's massive form materialized through the smoke and steam like a nightmare given flesh. His shark-like grin was wider than ever, his eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction as he took in my burned and weaponless state.
"Fishman Karate—3000 Tile Punch!"
His fist came at me with the concentrated force of an artillery shell, his knuckles were still three feet away from my body when the attack's true effect manifested.
'SHIT!!'
SLAM! CRACK!
I threw my arms up instinctively, crossing them in front of my face in the classic defensive posture. But Fishman Karate didn't care about conventional defense. The shockwave from his punch passed right through my arms as if they were made of paper, traveling through bone and muscle and air to strike directly at my skull.
The impact felt like being hit by a sledgehammer wielded by someone who bench-pressed freight trains for fun.
My vision exploded into stars and spinning lights, and my inner ear began screaming conflicting information about which way was up. The world tilted sideways, and I could taste iron in my mouth.
Everything's spinning like a carnival ride designed by someone who hates inner ear function.
Before I could recover—before I could even process what had just happened to my brain—Gyaro's massive leg was already in motion. The kick came from my blind side, his foot easily the size of a dinner plate and moving with the speed and precision of a professional soccer player who happened to weigh seven hundred pounds.
"Fishman Karate—4000 Tile Roundhouse Kick!"
CRUNCH! FOLD! LAUNCH!
The impact folded me around his leg like I was a piece of origami being creased by a hydraulic press. I could feel ribs shifting in ways that ribs were definitely not designed to shift, and something warm and metallic flooded my mouth as internal damage made itself known.
The force didn't just hit me—it launched me. For a terrifying moment, I was airborne, flying backward through the fire-filled area with all the grace and control of a cannonball.
The world spun around me in a nauseating carousel of stone walls and flickering shadows.
SLAM! ROLL! TUMBLE! SCRAPE!
I hit the land at an angle that would have made a physics teacher weep, my momentum carrying me into a series of rolling impacts that sent fresh waves of agony through my already battered body.
When I finally slid to a stop, I was at least fifteen feet from where I'd started, lying on my side with stone dust coating my burned and bloodied skin. Every breath was an exercise in pain management, and the metallic taste in my mouth suggested that something important had been damaged in my chest.
'Shit…Get up…Have to get up…If I fall here…I'm dead…'
But my legs wouldn't cooperate. My knees buckled as I tried to stand, the world tilting sideways in a nauseating spiral. Through the haze of pain and disorientation, I could hear Gyaro's triumphant laughter echoing through the chamber.
"Look at you now, human! Where's all that arrogance? Where's that mysterious power everyone whispers about?" His voice was thick with sadistic satisfaction.
"You're nothing but another weak surface dweller who thought he could challenge the superior Fishman race!"
'Damn it…Not Again…' The thought drifted through my mind with startling clarity. Same situation as two years ago. Outmatched, outgunned, about to die because I walked into something I wasn't prepared for.
My vision was starting to blur around the edges, darkness creeping in from the corners.
'I came here thinking I was dealing with a simple thug with a magic sword…Instead, I found a monster who's been growing larger for two years.'
'All of this shit talk about being ready…it turns out I was not…'
The familiar refrain started in my head, that voice of defeat I'd heard so many times before.
'Fu*k…I am gonna die…'
—I don't want to die
But just as the panic began to set in, another image surfaced.
Roronoa Zoro, standing motionless as Mihawk's black blade approached his chest. Knowing he was about to die, knowing he was completely outmatched, but refusing to step back because backing down would be worse than death.
"Scars on the back are a swordsman's shame."
For backing down in front of an impossible goal is the same as death….
And then Luffy, battered and broken but still standing against Don Krieg's overwhelming firepower.
"Whether it's the myriad weapons to survive no matter what, or the unwavering conviction to conquer the fear of death, this is the kind of fight these two were having."
Zeff's words about the conviction to conquer the fear of death. The absolute, unshakeable determination to keep fighting even when defeat seemed certain.
"You're nothing but another weak surface dweller who thought he could challenge the superior Fishman race!"
—I don't want to die—
'So…what?'
The thought came from somewhere deeper than conscious decision. A place where stubborn pettiness lived alongside bitter experience and hard-won wisdom.
—The whole plan was fated to fail—
'So what?'
Gyaro was approaching now, his massive foot raised to crush my skull. "Looks like this is it for your pathetic existence."
'So what?' I thought again, feeling something shift inside my chest.
'So what if I'm going to die?'
'So what if the plan failed?'
'So what if I'm outmatched?'
"Farewell, you lucky cockroach! Your luck had finally ended!"
Just as his foot began its descent, The Box materialized, grasped a rock from around me, then flew in the air above me—invisible to Gyaro, but very real to me.
My Stand's lid snapped open, and a roar of flame erupted from within!
FWOOOOOOSH!
"GYAAAAHHH!" Gyaro stumbled backward, his leg sizzling where the fire had touched him. "What is this?! Where did that fire come from?!"
I pushed myself upright, every muscle in my body screaming in protest.
'So what?'
I rose to my full height, steam was still rising from my burned body, blood was dripping from me everywhere, and I probably looked like death warmed over.
But I'm standing. And that's what matters.
"So what?" I said aloud, my voice rough but steady. The words felt like a battle cry, a declaration of war against fate itself. "So what if it hurts?"
—My condition is not good, I need a Senzu Bean as soon as possible—
'So what?' The words echoed in my mind as I took a step forward, then another.
Each movement sent fresh waves of agony through my battered body.
'So what?'
"So what if you're stronger?" Another step. Gyaro was backing away now, confusion and growing alarm replacing his earlier confidence. "So what if you have my sword?"
'So what?'
The Hamon began to flow again, sluggish and weak but definitely present.
Golden energy sparked around my clenched fists as I channeled what I could muster of Hamon into them. The searing pain all over my body made me think of only one technique.
'So what if I'm afraid?'
"YOU DAMN ABOMINATION!!!"
Gyaro swung the sword in a vicious arc. But The Box was already moving, positioning itself between us with precision.
CLAMP!
The Stand's lid snapped shut around Gyaro's sword hand, trapping both weapon and wielder in an invisible grip that he couldn't see or understand.
"Wha-What... what is this?!" Gyaro's voice cracked with confusion and growing fear. "I-I can't move my hand! What have you done?!"
I lunged forward, Hamon energy crackling around my fist like captured lightning. The golden power was hot against my knuckles, eager to be released.
SLAM!
My punch connected with the red sun tattoo on Gyaro's chest, and the reaction was immediate and violent. Hamon energy exploded across his torso, and the burning effect caused a searing pain.
"AHHHH!!!! NOOOO!!! GET AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed, his voice cracking with something that sounded almost like panic. "I AM NOT!! I AM NOT—"
'Trauma response. That tattoo, it's connected to something.'
"BUT SO WHAT?!"
I didn't have time for psychological counseling.
CRACK!
RIPPLES!
While Gyaro stood frozen in whatever horrible memory my punch had triggered, I pressed another punch, this one to his ribs. The enhanced strength behind the blow sent ripples of golden energy through his massive frame.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!"
"SO WHAT?!"
CRACK!
A third punch, aimed at his shoulder. Each impact left a burning handprint on his blue skin, the Hamon energy eating away at his natural defenses.
"Return!" I half roared while outstretching my hand.
FLASH!
And the Gryffindor Sword, lying forgotten in the rubble where Gyaro had controlled it away from me, teleported back to my outstretched hand with silver light, and I could almost swear I felt it's joy and eagerness.
SLASH!
The blade sliced through Gyaro's trapped hand with surgical precision, separating flesh from bone in one clean cut.
"GYAAAAAAHHH!" Gyaro's scream echoed through the surroundings, raw and primal. "MY ARM! MY ARM!" He staggered backward, clutching the wound with his remaining hand. "YOU CUT OFF MY ARM!"
The Barbossa Sword clattered to the ground, still clutched in his severed fingers.
I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. This wasn't about cruelty—it was about ending a threat that had nearly killed me twice.
STAB!
The Gryffindor Sword plunged into his chest, Hamon energy pouring through the wound like liquid fire. At the same time, I drove my left fist into his solar plexus, more golden energy exploding through his system.
Gyaro was babbling now, words pouring out between screams of pain: "I am not your slave! Y-You damn Humans! I will not! You Will NOT!!"
"SO WHAT?!" I roared the words aloud, matching his trauma-driven screams with my own defiant battle cry.
"So what if humans hurt you?"
"So what if you hate us?"
"So what?!"
BANG!
I kicked him, pulling my sword out as I watched him stagger back.
I stepped over his severed appendage and bent down to retrieve the Barbossa Sword, its familiar weight settling into my left hand like it had never been gone.
'Hello, old friend. Miss me?'
The sword's power flowed through me immediately, responding to my touch like a loyal pet recognizing its master. I could feel its object-manipulation abilities at the edge of my consciousness, ready to be used, ready to turn the tide of battle definitively in my favor.
"Give it back…!"
Gyaro's voice was weak but still furious. He'd somehow managed to prop himself up on one elbow despite his massive injuries, blood flowing freely from his wounds.
"That sword... belongs to the fishman race... treasure of our people..."
I looked down at him with what I hoped was appropriate contempt. "Shut it," I said flatly, adjusting my grip on both swords. "I've had enough of your made-up nonsense."
I began breathing in the familiar rhythm of the Hamon technique, feeling the golden energy flow through my body and into both blades.
The Gryffindor sword gleamed silvery brighter, while the Barbossa sword's metal began to shimmer with contained power.
But Gyaro wasn't finished yet. Even with one arm gone and blood loss that would have killed a normal human, he was already preparing another attack.
BULGED!
His remaining hand was clenched and cocked back, and his muscles expanded as he channeled everything he had left into one final technique.
'He's going to die if he keeps fighting. The blood loss alone will kill him in minutes.'
But looking into his eyes, I could see the same fanatical determination that had driven him to claim my sword as the treasure of the fishmen in the first place.
"I WON'T LET YOU HUMANS TAKE ANYTHING ELSE FROM US!" Gyaro's roar was hoarse now, weakened by pain and blood loss, but no less furious. "NEVER AGAIN!"
His remaining arm expanded to twice its normal size, muscles and veins standing out like steel cables under his blue skin.
The technique was clearly pushing his body beyond its limits, but he didn't seem to care about the consequences.
"Fishman Karate—4000 Tile Punch!"
I could sense the massive amount of force building behind his fist, enough to punch through solid stone like wet tissue paper.
/Straight Punch toward his chest/
My Mantra had been warning me about the attack for several seconds before he actually launched it—plenty of time to plan a response.
As his fist rocketed toward my chest with enough force to crater a medium-sized building, I stepped forward instead of back, bringing the Gryffindor Sword up in a precise thrust.
'Hamon—Drilling Tide!'
SQUELCH!
CRACK!
A revolving piercing force traveled with the stabbing blade straight through his expanded arm just above the wrist, the Hamon energy within the steel shattered the Fishman Karate technique, causing his entire attack to collapse in on itself.
What should have been a devastating finishing move became nothing more than an overextended limb impaled on my sword.
"This is…payback, for all the pain you had just caused me…"
Gyaro's eyes went wide with shock and pain as he realized what had happened. His super-enhanced attack was destroyed, leaving him completely exposed and unable to defend himself.
"And This…is payback," I said quietly, raising the Barbossa Sword in my left hand, "for what you did to me two years ago."
SWING!
The Hamon-enhanced blade came down in a perfect arc, striking the side of his head with devastating force.
CRUSH!
CRACK!
The impact was so powerful that it literally crushed half of his skull, the sound like a watermelon being dropped from a great height.
THUD.
Gyaro's massive form toppled backward and hit the ground with earth-shaking finality. His eyes were open but unseeing, staring up at the sky with a blank expression.
THOOM!
The ground shook as his body hit the earth, blood pooling around his caved skull in an expanding crimson lake.
I stood over him for a moment, both swords dripping with gore, steam still rising from my burned clothing.
'It's over.'
'Finally, after two years, it's actually over.'
The silence that followed was almost deafening after the explosive chaos of our battle. No more roaring techniques, no more crashing debris, no more screamed threats about fishman honor and human treachery. Just the quiet drip of blood and the distant sound of settling rubble.
'I should feel something more significant than mild satisfaction, shouldn't I? Triumph? Relief? Something?'
But honestly, all I felt was tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion that had nothing to do with my physical injuries.
'Maybe that's what happens when you've been fighting for your life for two years straight. Everything just becomes... routine.'
I was about to allow myself a moment to catch my breath when my Mantra screamed a warning.
My head snapped up just in time to see one of the remaining fishmen pointing a bazooka directly at me.
'Shit!'
"FOR GYARO-SAN!" the fishman screamed, his finger tightening on the trigger. The weapon was already loaded, already aimed, and I was in no condition to dodge explosive attacks.
But before he could fire, something small and round whistled through the air and struck the bazooka with perfect precision.
BOOM!CRASH!CLATTER!
The explosion that followed was magnificent—a bloom of orange fire and black smoke that lifted the fishman off his feet and sent him flying backward into the ruins of the park.
"HIKIGAYA!" Usopp's voice carried across the devastated battlefield as he emerged from behind an overturned statue, his slingshot still drawn and ready, even if his knees were trembling erratically. "Are you alright?!"
Behind him, Roronoa stepped into view, his three swords already drawn, green hair catching the light as his eyes swept the battlefield with practiced assessment.
The swordsman's expression was calm, but I could see the tension in his stance—ready for another fight at a moment's notice.
Usopp and Roronoa. The long-nosed sniper sprinted toward me, his expression a mixture of concern and barely contained panic, while Roronoa followed at a more measured pace.
"Are you hurt? You look terrible! I mean, you always look kind of terrible with the whole mysterious cloak thing, but this is worse than usual! Is that blood? That's definitely blood. Oh god, there's so much blood. D-Do you still have that bean you gave to Zoro—"
'Even in life-or-death situations, Usopp's first instinct is to panic verbally.'
Roronoa had reached us by now, his sharp eyes taking in the destruction around us—the fire, the craters, the scattered debris, Gyaro's motionless form.
"Looks like you handled things," he said simply, though there was something that might have been extreme interest in his tone.
"Yeah…"
'I'm alive. Against all odds, despite every mistake I made, in spite of the universe's apparent determination to kill me in increasingly creative ways... I'm alive.'
I looked down at the two swords in my hands, and finally felt something that might have been satisfaction.
'I got my sword back. I settled the score. I survived another fight that should have killed me.'
The burns on my skin were already beginning to heal thanks to Hamon, and the worst of my injuries were manageable with proper rest. All things considered, this could have gone much worse.
"I'm…fine," I said, and meant it.
'Fine. Battered, burned, emotionally drained, and running on empty... but fine.'
'Time to regroup, tend to my wounds, and figure out what comes next.'
Because in a world like this, there's always something that comes next.
…
A/N: At last, Gyaro is defeated and the sword is back, whew!
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