"Cough!"
Ben Beckman fell to one knee, his right hand clutching his flintlock pistol, the barrel pressed against the blood-soaked earth. Crimson leaked from his lips and the hole punched through his chest, pooling beneath him.
"I see..." he rasped, eyes sharp despite the pain. "Damage sharing... a Bankai ability, but not the whole story. No matter how much damage is reflected, you—the Zanpakutō—won't die."
As the most resourceful officer of the Red-Haired Pirates, Ben Beckman had analyzed Katen Kyokotsu: Karamatsu instantly. Even with Haki bullets piercing him and two fatal wounds to his heart, he was still conscious. It wasn't because he was unharmed, but because Katen Kyokotsu was the initiator of the "One-Step Hesitation: Trauma Sharing" technique. They shared the damage, but the weapon itself wouldn't be destroyed by that reflection.
At least, not immediately.
"No wonder Suzumebachi speaks so highly of you," Hanaten said, her voice echoing strangely in the space. "Your perception is impressive... and cruel."
Ben Beckman gasped, adrenaline fighting against the shock of his injuries. Even using Armament Haki to mitigate the effect of Katen Kyokotsu's ability, he couldn't fully defend against it. The technique targeted the heart directly, and unlike monsters like Kaido or Charlotte Linlin, Ben Beckman was mortal.
"A pity," Hanaten continued, stepping closer. "I survived. With a type of Haki you Zanpakutō lack."
Ben Beckman raised his pistol, blood dripping from the barrel. "I made a mistake. I assumed piercing your hearts would kill you. But you aren't human—you're products of Rosen's Devil Fruit power. To a normal man, a pierced heart is fatal. To you? It's no different than a shoulder wound."
He aimed squarely between her eyes. "But without a head, even a Zanpakutō dies."
His tone was absolute, a statement of fact disguised as a question.
"You're still willing to fire?" Hanaten scoffed. "You know the rules. After activating Bankai, neither I nor Kyokotsu can die."
"Liar," Ben Beckman growled. "You can't be killed by your own reflection, yes. But damage I inflict directly? That will shatter you."
Hanaten didn't flinch. Instead, she wore a look of resignation. "I knew it. You're harder to fool than the others. I might trick your crewmates, but against the First Mate? This trick is too weak."
She raised her hands in surrender. "Fine. I give up."
Ben Beckman's eyes narrowed. The lack of panic... it felt wrong. But he couldn't hesitate.
"Die."
He pulled the trigger.
Click.
The sound was dull, muffled by the sudden, bone-deep agony shooting through his hand. Ben Beckman looked down.
His palm—no, his entire arm—was covered in irregular black dots. They spread visibly, oozing blood, radiating pain so intense it locked his muscles.
"What...?" Ben Beckman choked out.
He looked up at Hanaten. The resignation was gone. In its place was a cold, mocking smile that sent a chill down his spine.
"Sorry," she said, her voice like a witch's curse. "I was joking. Well, mostly. The First Stage—Hesitation and Wound Sharing—was useless against you. So, I moved to the Second Stage: Shameful Bed."
She laughed, a sound devoid of warmth. "But you still failed. The biggest flaw of a Zanpakutō is the lack of Haki. Blame your creator, Rosen, for not granting us that power along with our intelligence."
Crack!
Black and red lightning erupted from Ben Beckman's body. Conqueror's Haki flared, battling the unnatural affliction. It required immense focus and power to resist a Devil Fruit ability—especially a Bankai—but Ben Beckman had both.
The black spots shrank. The bleeding stopped. The pain receded, though not entirely.
But the pressure didn't fade.
Ben Beckman realized with horror that he wasn't just fighting the disease. He was sinking.
Around him, the environment shifted. The ground vanished, replaced by a vast, dark expanse of freezing water. He was submerged, the weight of the abyss pressing in, making even the simple act of pulling the trigger feel like moving through tar.
"Still more?" Ben Beckman's eyes widened.
Hanaten's voice drifted through the icy water. "Excuse me. Indeed. Now comes the Third Stage: Fish-Severing Abyss."
Ben Beckman glanced at Hanaten and Kyokotsu, who floated effortlessly in the same freezing water. He understood immediately. This wasn't just an environmental trap—it was a stamina drain. Whoever ran out of energy first would die.
He had already suffered the cumulative damage of the First and Second Stages. His body was battered, his stamina depleting. Dragging a compromised body into a war of attrition against a tireless weapon was a death sentence.
"Still alive?" Hanaten frowned slightly. Seeing Ben Beckman's Haki flare, resisting the cold and slowing his stamina loss, she clicked her tongue. "Incredibly resilient."
"Haki," she cursed under her breath. "What an annoying ability."
Realizing the stamina drain alone wouldn't finish him quickly enough, Hanaten released her blade.
Ben Beckman tensed, thinking she was exhausted. But then, Hanaten raised her slender fingers in the dark water, joining her index and middle together.
A thin white line of pure death radiated from the tips.
"Final Stage: Itokiri Sword, Bloodstained Throat."
Ben Beckman's breath hitched. Four distinct Bankai abilities. Hesitation and Wound Sharing. Shameful Bed. Severed Fish Abyss. And now this.
Each more insidious than the last. It was a systematic dismantling of any warrior, regardless of their Devil Fruit or Haki mastery.
Is this how it ends? Ben Beckman thought, his grip tightening on his pistol despite the trembling of his hand.
"Do you know how Rosen evaluated me?" Hanaten asked softly, the tip of her finger-glow humming with lethal intent. She ignored the freezing abyss, her arm rising with grace.
"Below the Emperor, I am invincible. Above the Emperor... a one-for-one trade."
She smiled, a city-toppling beauty turning cold and lethal.
"And he was right."
—-
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