Thunder rolled across the sky as the Eternal Life approached the shadow of a distant island.
Even before they reached the shore, the deep rumble of cannon fire shook the sea.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The repeated thunderclaps weren't from the heavens—it was the sound of naval bombardment, heavy and relentless.
Jin stood at the bow, arms folded, watching black plumes of smoke rise from beyond the coastline. His violet eyes reflected the flashes of distant explosions.
"...That's no pirate skirmish," he muttered. "That's a formation-level bombardment. Someone's pulling naval-grade firepower."
Beside him, Tina frowned, her expression sharpening with the instinct of someone who'd once served among those ranks.
"In the East Blue, only the Navy could muster that much firepower. At least three mid-class warships. But why here?"
Her tone carried unease—part memory, part guilt.
Makino, standing close behind, pressed her palms together nervously. "Do we… still land on the island? It sounds dangerous, Jin."
Before Jin could answer, Guina spoke from the deck rail, her voice as calm and sharp as her blade.
"Danger exists everywhere, Makino. If the Navy's here, then they're after someone. We go ashore, we restock, and if anyone gets in our way—" She drew her sword a few inches, the faint hum of steel filling the silence. "—we cut through them."
The sea breeze caught her hair, and the faint glint in her eyes mirrored Jin's smirk.
"Well said," Jin chuckled, stepping forward. "Evil dies, good is ignored. Simple enough."
Makino tugged gently on his sleeve, worry flickering in her emerald eyes. Jin turned to her with a soft smile and placed his hand over hers.
"Relax," he said quietly. "It's just a supply run. No one here's strong enough to threaten us."
She didn't look convinced—but nodded anyway.
The memory of the sea king's roar and the blood-red ocean still haunted her; even the sound of distant cannon fire made her chest tighten.
"Makino," Tina interjected gently, "you don't need to worry. The Navy doesn't attack civilians. This must be a pirate suppression mission. With firepower like that, they're probably facing a big crew."
Jin's smile faded. "You still sound like one of them."
"What—?"
"I asked why we should help," he said, his tone turning cold.
Tina froze.
Jin didn't raise his voice, but the quiet edge in it struck deeper than a shout ever could.
His gaze, calm yet cutting, drifted toward her like the weight of an unspoken truth.
"Tina. You left the Navy. You're on my ship now. We don't interfere in wars between the dogs of justice and the wolves of greed. Not unless it touches us. Understand?"
His voice was clear—emotionless, even—but the words carried the gravity of command.
"This world doesn't need more saviors. And I'm not one."
Tina's lips parted, but no words came out. For the first time, she felt that ice-cold distance between them. The man who always smiled at her, teased her, guided her—now looked like a stranger carved from steel.
Her fingers trembled slightly. "I… I didn't mean—"
"I know," Jin interrupted softly, then turned away. "But intent doesn't change the path. Remember why you're here. Remember what you seek."
The deck fell silent.
Makino bit her lip, stepping forward to smooth the tension. "Hey… don't be too harsh on her. You've seen what she's been through."
Jin's expression didn't soften. "Makino, I'm not angry. But if she keeps seeing the world through their eyes, it'll destroy her when she faces her past."
Guina's calm voice joined in. "He's right. Justice is just another word for power. Either you wield it, or you're crushed by it."
Tina's chest tightened. She couldn't meet their eyes.
"I…" she whispered. "I understand."
Jin exhaled, long and slow, and looked toward the burning horizon. "Then prove it."
Without another word, he leapt from the deck. His figure vanished into the salt wind, crossing the waves in a single bound as if the sea itself supported his steps.
Makino rushed forward. "Jin!"
But he was already gone—racing toward the island, the sound of distant artillery echoing beneath him.
The Island
Smoke rolled over the beach. The scent of gunpowder and saltwater choked the air.
Three Navy ships formed a crescent around a lone pirate vessel flying a shark-toothed flag—a black banner painted with a grinning maw.
Jin landed on a nearby cliff, watching the exchange unfold.
"Arlong…" he murmured. The name carried weight—a predator among fishmen, one whose cruelty even the Marines often turned a blind eye to.
The Arlong Pirates weren't truly fighting back. Their ship's cannons fired sporadically, deliberately missing wide. The Marines' aim was no better.
It wasn't a battle—it was a negotiation.
"They're holding back," Jin muttered. "Interesting."
He could sense the power in the water below—an aura unlike any human's. Arlong's presence was dense, brutal, the scent of blood and sea wrapped around arrogance.
So, he's already made it to the East Blue.
But why here?
Back on the ship, silence stretched like a taut string.
Tina stood at the railing, staring at the smoke in the distance. Her reflection wavered on the waves.
She clenched her fists—caught between habit and belief.
"Maybe I said too much," she murmured. "I just… didn't want him to think I've forgotten who I was."
Makino approached quietly, her gentle voice brushing like sea foam. "He doesn't think that. You saw how he looked at you, right? He only talks like that to people he's accepted."
Tina blinked, surprised. "Accepted…?"
"He scolds the people he protects," Makino smiled. "That's just how he is."
From the mast above, Guina added without looking down, "If he didn't care, he wouldn't waste his breath."
The swordswoman's words hit deeper than any comfort could.
Tina let out a quiet breath, eyes softening. "…He really is infuriating."
Makino giggled. "That's our captain."
Meanwhile, on the shore—
Arlong's laughter rolled across the battlefield like a crashing wave.
"Humans and their toys," he sneered, lifting a cannonball from the sand as though it were a pebble. His sharp-toothed grin glistened with saltwater. "You call this firepower?"
The Marines tensed as he hurled the cannonball back toward them. It struck one of their ships with a deafening boom, splitting wood and sending men flying.
"Captain Arlong! Enough!" one of his lieutenants shouted. "If we go too far—"
Arlong's glare silenced him.
"Too far? We've been kneeling long enough."
He turned toward the sea—and froze.
There, walking calmly along the surface of the water, was a man in a white shirt, his hair drifting like ink in the wind.
His violet eyes burned faintly beneath the sun.
Jin.
Arlong's grin faltered, replaced by something colder—instinct.
That man isn't ordinary.
The air thickened as Jin's boots touched the wet sand. The ocean hissed, reacting to the unseen pressure radiating from him. His gaze swept over the fishman crew, pausing briefly on Arlong.
"...So it's you," Jin said quietly. "The shark who thinks himself a king."
Arlong tilted his head. "And who might you be, little human?"
"Someone who doesn't like the smell of rot," Jin replied. His tone was calm—but his eyes were sharp enough to cut steel.
For a long moment, neither moved.
Only the waves spoke, lapping softly between them.
Then Arlong laughed again, deep and cruel. "Hah! Another land ape playing hero. This sea belongs to our kind. You humans crawl across it like parasites!"
Jin's voice was cold as a blade.
"I'm not here for speeches. I'm just here to see what kind of trash is making noise in my ocean."
Arlong's grin vanished. His webbed hands clenched.
The ocean surged behind him—massive waves twisting under his command.
"Then drown in it!"
Water exploded upward as Arlong struck, a tidal surge tearing toward Jin with enough force to crush a ship.
Jin didn't move.
His hand dropped to the hilt of his blood-patterned blade.
The world fell silent for half a breath.
Then—flash.
A crimson arc cut through the incoming wave.
The ocean split open like silk. The shockwave cleaved the water apart, leaving a narrow path of empty sea leading straight to Arlong.
Steam rose from the gash where Jin's slash had boiled the water.
Arlong's pupils shrank. "What—"
Jin appeared in front of him, faster than sight. His blade's edge rested just beneath the fishman's throat.
"Listen closely," Jin said softly, almost kindly. "If I ever see you hunting humans again… I'll gut you and feed your teeth to the sea."
He didn't wait for an answer. One kick to Arlong's chest sent the fishman crashing into his ship's railing.
By the time Arlong regained his breath, Jin was already walking back across the surface of the ocean, his figure fading into the mist.
Back on the Eternal Life, the others watched his return.
Tina, guilt still heavy in her chest, approached him as he landed on deck.
"You… didn't kill them?" she asked quietly.
"No," Jin said, brushing salt spray from his hair. "They weren't worth the effort. Let the sea finish what it started."
She looked at him for a long moment—then smiled faintly. "You're still the same… always deciding everything on your own."
He raised a brow. "Would you rather I asked for permission?"
Makino's laughter chimed in before Tina could answer. "If he did that, he wouldn't be Jin."
The crew burst into soft, relieved laughter. Even Tina couldn't help but shake her head.
The cannon fire had stopped.
The horizon was calm again.
Jin leaned against the mast, eyes half-closed, the wind carrying the faint scent of salt and gunpowder.
"Evil dies, good is ignored," he murmured to himself. "That's enough."
For now.
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T/N :
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