The air was thick with the scent of salt and smoke. Arlong's headquarters no longer resembled a pirate base—it looked more like the ruins of a battlefield swept by a violent storm. The wooden walls were cracked, some having collapsed into splinters among the rubble. The ceiling had caved in from the center, letting the last rays of sunlight pour through in streaks of fading gold.
Stagnant water mixed with blood shimmered under the glow of dusk. Scattered rocks half-covered the bodies strewn across the ground. The fishmen lay still—some unconscious, others groaning in pain. Torn fins, cracked skin, broken pride.
At the center of the wreckage, Arlong was sprawled on the floor. His massive body was battered and bruised, his pointed nose shattered, his shark-like teeth broken and bloodied. Just steps away stood Luffy, barely on his feet. His body was torn and exhausted, the toll of battle etched into every inch of his face and hands. He breathed heavily, head tilted to one side as if gravity itself had grown heavier.
In a hoarse but clear voice, he called out:
"Nami… You're one of us now."
Then, without warning, he collapsed—unconscious.
In one corner, Zoro was slumped against a wall, the old wound on his chest reopened and bleeding silently. Beside him, Usopp sat panting, clutching his injured shoulder, dizziness dimming his gaze.
At what used to be the main gate, now flattened, Sanji stood in silence. His cigarette barely burned, releasing wisps of smoke that faded into the sky. His hand pressed against his side, where blood seeped slowly, but he showed no pain. He just watched, as if his body had already accepted the suffering.
Nami stared at Luffy. Tears spilled down her cheeks unconsciously. She trembled—her heart a storm of disbelief and relief. She whispered, as though confessing for the first time:
"Yes…"
Silence fell heavy after Luffy's collapse. A few seconds passed like stretched minutes before villagers began to emerge from hiding. From behind debris and within shadows, cautious eyes peered into the wreckage.
Their steps were hesitant, echoing lightly on the blood-stained ground. An elderly woman covered her mouth in shock. A young man stared long at Arlong's massive form, lying like a shattered statue, then muttered in awe:
"Is… it really over?"
A child peeked out from behind his mother's leg, eyes wide as he looked at the unconscious Luffy, and whispered shakily:
"Is that… our hero?"
The stillness broke into movement, cheers slowly rising. Some ran to Luffy, others rushed toward Zoro and Sanji. Two young men lifted Luffy's limp body, while a girl tore her shirt to bind a wound on his leg. Others fashioned a makeshift stretcher out of wooden planks for the bleeding swordsman.
Sanji, who had stayed standing despite the blood loss, suddenly swayed. He coughed hard—and blood spilled from his mouth. Steadying himself against the collapsed wall, he leaned on Usopp, who was barely upright himself.
Before the celebrations broke into full roar, one man looked around and said what they all felt:
"They did what we never dared."
The faces that had been clouded with fear just a day before were now glowing with disbelief and gratitude. Some women wept in silence. Then, the old man Gen muttered:
"They've freed us… Freed us from a nightmare that lasted years."
Behind it all, the sun neared the horizon, casting the sky in a burnt orange hue.
Soon after the momentary celebration, the villagers carried the Straw Hats back to the village, their cheers fading into the wind.
Back among the ruins and rising dust of Arlong Park, a strange quiet returned. Faint groans drifted from the battered bodies of fishmen. Near a collapsed wall, a pinkish arm twitched.
It was Hachi's.
He forced open one eye. The orange-tinted light stung his vision. His chest burned. His whole body was torn and bloodied. Of his six arms, several were too mangled to move. He coughed hard and spat blood before rasping out:
"We… we lost."
He tried to rise, but his body failed him. Trembling, he leaned against the fractured wall, stones and grit clinging to his bruised face. The world around him swam in a haze.
He turned his head and spotted Arlong's huge body lying still, his face bloodied and his nose destroyed. A chill ran through Hachi as he coughed again and muttered:
"Arlong… wake up… We need to get out of here… fast…"
He began to crawl toward him, dragging himself with trembling arms, clutching stone and rubble as anchors.
"You idiot…" he whispered, inching closer. "The Marines… They'll have heard the fighting. They'll be here any moment…"
His vision flickered. His breathing came in ragged bursts. Still, he crawled.
"If they catch us here… we'll be taken to… Impel Down… We can't stay… Arlong…"
Then, out of the corner of his eye, the shadows began to move. The fading sunlight cast strange silhouettes on the broken walls.
As Hachi dragged himself toward Arlong, ignoring the pain gnawing at his limbs, he noticed a figure walking toward them. Calm. Steady. Each footstep crunching over the scattered debris.
He wore a white shirt, torn and bloodstained, and dark black trousers ripped at the hem. His black hair draped over his face, swaying softly despite the still air.
It was Louay.
Hachi squinted, trying to raise himself.
"Who… is that…?"
It was Louay's eyes that truly frightened him. They were black and bottomless—emotionless voids that threatened to swallow him whole. A cold sweat formed on Hachi's brow.
Louay advanced slowly, unnervingly calm.
"Who… are you?" Hachi stammered.
Louay said nothing.
He stopped in front of Arlong's body. The size difference was stark—Arlong, the fallen beast, and Louay, so much smaller… yet more menacing.
Louay crouched slowly, cloaked his left hand in Haki, and raised it toward Arlong's face.
"Hey! You! What are you doing!? Stay away from him!" Hachi screamed, coughing up blood.
But Louay didn't flinch. He didn't even look back.
Hachi kept crawling—not because he thought he could stop him, but because he didn't know what else to do. Loyalty and friendship drove him past the pain.
Then, in a cold whisper that chilled Hachi to his bones, Louay said:
"Don't worry… I owe him a promise."
Hachi froze. Those words struck deeper than any wound.
"A promise? What are you talking about?" Hachi muttered, trying to steady his breath.
What's wrong with this human? Why does he feel like a corpse?
As Louay's hand neared Arlong, the latter suddenly opened his eyes—veins bulging with rage. He reached up and grabbed Louay's arm, growling:
"You… What were you planning to do?"
Hachi felt hope rise in his chest. "Arlong! Get rid of him, now! The police could arrive any second!"
Arlong coughed, blood pouring from his nose, but kept his gaze locked on Louay.
"You're right…"
He tried to shove Louay's arm aside—only to realize he couldn't.
What's happening? I… I can't move it…
Louay smiled faintly. Then, with deliberate calm, he opened his hand, grabbed Arlong's arm, dug his fingers into the flesh—and ripped half of it apart in one brutal jerk.
Arlong screamed in agony.
Before Hachi could even react, Louay raised his Haki-covered right hand—fingers curled like claws—and sliced through Arlong's shoulder, severing his right arm entirely.
Arlong's shriek shook the remains of the base, echoing across the island. A villager paused mid-step and asked, alarmed:
"Arlong?! Is he back?"
Hachi was frozen in place, staring at Louay—his face and hands drenched in blood, gripping Arlong's severed arm in his left hand.
"Wh… why?" Hachi trembled. "Why did you do that to him?!"
Blood poured from Arlong's wound. He screamed, clutching the gap with his remaining hand.
Louay slowly turned to Hachi and tossed the severed arm toward him.
It tumbled through the air in an unnaturally slow arc, spinning again and again, catching the dying light as Hachi watched in horror.
Tears streamed down Hachi's cheeks, glistening with sunset.
"Arlong…"
Then came the memories—rushing like a flood. He saw himself as a boy, playing with Arlong aboard a half-sunken ship. Arlong stood proudly at the bow, arms spread like a captain.
"If I become a pirate," Arlong shouted with a grin, "will you join me?"
Hachi laughed.
"Maybe… if you're stronger than me."
Arlong beamed with certainty.
"Then you will."
They laughed. And the sea carried their voices away…
…
The memory shattered with Arlong's scream. Reality came crashing back.
Hachi looked up—and what he saw burned into his soul.
Louay stood before him, holding Arlong's head by the hair, lifting it effortlessly into the air. Arlong's eyes were blank. His mouth slightly ajar. Blood poured from his severed neck.
Hachi's knees gave out. He dropped.
"No way…" he whispered.
Silence returned, until Louay's cold voice sliced through it:
"Hachi… you need to understand. If Arlong hadn't died today, I would've burned the Fishmen's village to the ground."
Hachi slowly raised his head, half-lit by the twilight. His trembling eyes met Louay's blank ones. Tears mixed with sunset.
"Who are you? What did Arlong do to deserve this?"
Louay sighed. Then tossed Arlong's head at Hachi's feet.
"Ask him," he said simply.
He turned to leave.
"Who… are you?" Hachi called out.
Louay glanced back. His face blood-stained. His hands dripping crimson.
"I'm… a punisher. A revenant. Call me what you will."
As he walked, he muttered:
"I'm not the hero. Not the villain.
I don't seek love, nor fear solitude.
I'm what's left after everything ends—
A fragment torn between reality and fiction."
He looked back at the ruins.
"These ruins… they're like my mind. Nothing useful inside, but real. That's why I prefer them… over palaces."
Hachi stared at the fallen head—silent, lifeless eyes staring back.
He trembled, then slowly reached out to touch his old captain's face. But his fingers stopped midway. Afraid of the truth.
"Arlong… What do I do now?" he whispered.
A tear fell, then another. His body collapsed.
He pounded the ground and cried:
"We shouldn't have come here! You should've listened to me!"
No answer came. Only a headless body… and a pale sunset casting the final curtain on the life of a former leader and friend.
In the distance, Louay vanished into the shadows.
Watching it all was a young man with brown hair. Eyes wide with horror.
"Is he… a demon?" he whispered, sweat rolling down his chin.
When he saw Louay approaching, panic set in. He turned to flee—but tripped on a small rock and hit the ground with a loud thud.
Scrambling up, he ran again, muttering:
"Please tell me he didn't see me… Please…"
But hope was not on his side.
A black antler—coated in Haki—pierced the back of his skull in silent force. His eyes rolled white, and he collapsed, blood spurting gently from his forehead.
Louay walked up to the body.
"You brought this on yourself," he said quietly.
Then added, almost wearily:
"Still… you might be of some use."
He knelt down, stripped the man, and swapped clothes.
A long black coat that reached his thighs, fitted with a belt. Dark navy trousers. He glanced at himself.
"Much better," he muttered.
He picked up the white sack he'd stolen from Arlong Park and wiped his face with his old bloodied shirt, tossing it over the naked corpse.
"This gold should last me a while… But I need to move. This place has become… irritating."
And with that, he disappeared into the alleys, leaving behind another body—and a silence only the wind dared disturb.