Pirates.
The word struck Kyle like a thunderclap.
It was as if lightning had run straight through his veins. His blood ignited in that instant, washing away all the boredom, restlessness, and pent-up frustration of the past weeks. The tedium of long days at sea evaporated, replaced by a surge of raw, electric battle intent that seemed to boil out of his very bones.
He rushed to the ship's railing, the worn planks groaning faintly under his boots, and narrowed his eyes in the direction Rayleigh had pointed. The salty wind whipped through his short, black hair as he focused.
Between the endless blue of sky and sea, a black dot was steadily growing larger. Within moments, the outline sharpened — a hulking vessel, its hull easily three or four times the size of their small, battered boat. Upon its sail, bold and brazen, was the image of a grinning skull, two massive battle-axes crossed beneath it like a warrior's trophy rack.
It was the kind of flag that didn't just announce pirates — it boasted of bloodshed.
They had clearly spotted Roger's crew as well. Shouts of laughter rolled over the waves, crude and mocking. Some of the men on the distant deck waved their swords and axes toward them, gesturing provocatively as if daring them to come closer.
"Kuhahaha!" Roger's booming voice carried over the wind, that familiar laugh rolling from deep in his chest. He flexed his wrists until they cracked audibly, like stone splitting. "It's like someone delivering a pillow when you're sleepy! My hands are itching!"
"You damn Captain!"
The sudden, sharp voice made both Roger and Rayleigh glance toward its source.
Kyle stood at the railing, the ocean breeze whipping against his face, his expression sharper than it had been in weeks. His eyes burned — not just with determination, but with a light so fierce it looked as though two flames were flickering behind them, desperate to erupt.
"This ship… leave it to me."
His right hand reached for the long-handled naginata leaning against the rail. The polished wood was warm from the sun, but his grip was firm, resolute.
Roger blinked at him, surprised for only a heartbeat before his expression split into a wide grin. His booming laugh erupted again.
"Kuhahahaha! Good! I'll leave it to you, little Kyle!" He slapped the boy's shoulder with a hand the size of a dinner plate. The impact nearly knocked Kyle forward, but he planted his feet and held his ground.
Roger stepped back, placing both hands on his hips. His eyes gleamed with expectation.
"Let us see the results of your two months of training!"
Then, leaning slightly forward, his voice took on a mischievous edge.
"But remember… if you can't handle it, or you get beaten half to death, there'll be no dinner for you tonight!"
Kyle's lips curled into a confident smirk. "My pleasure."
With that, he turned away from them and toward the rapidly approaching pirate vessel.
---
On the enemy ship, the Captain — a towering brute with a scar running down the left side of his face — squinted through a battered brass telescope. His body was as broad as a bear's, the kind that looked like it could crush a man with a casual hug. When his gaze swept over the tiny vessel before him, his lips curled into an amused sneer.
Only three people. One of them barely more than a child.
He lowered the telescope and bellowed to his crew, "Lads! Look at that! A broken ship, two shabby guys, and a little brat who hasn't even been weaned yet!" His deep voice rumbled with crude delight. "Today's our lucky day! Kill them, and everything on their ship is ours!"
The deck erupted in cheers and howls, weapons clashing against the railing in anticipation.
Kyle rested the naginata in one hand and placed the other on the ship's railing. Then, without a second's hesitation, he leapt from the deck.
"Wave Walk."
His boots should have plunged straight into the water — but the moment his soles touched the ocean's surface, ripples spread outward in perfect circles. Instead of dispersing, they shimmered and tightened, folding inward until they formed a transparent platform beneath his feet.
Kyle took a step forward, balanced perfectly atop the water. Then another. Then another.
Why not just leap across using recoil? Simple — because this was cooler.
---
On the pirate ship, mouths fell open.
"Wh-what the hell?!"
"He's walking on the sea!"
"Must be a Devil Fruit user!"
Fear rippled through the deck as the boy advanced, calm and steady, across the churning waves. His approach had none of the frantic, snarling aggression of a madman rushing into battle — it was deliberate, confident, as if he owned the ocean itself.
This kind of entrance didn't just rattle nerves — it crushed them.
"Shut it, all of you!" roared the scarred Captain, shoving aside one of his own men. "It's just a Devil Fruit user! What's there to be afraid of? He's just a brat who should be at home drinking milk!"
His laughter rang out, harsh and mocking, and the crew joined in. The earlier unease melted into jeers and crude taunts.
"Cannons! Adjust five millimeters to the left!" the Captain barked. "Fire! Blast him to pieces!"
---
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Three cannons thundered in near unison, black smoke belching from their barrels. The cannonballs screamed through the air toward Kyle, kicking up foamy spray as they closed the gap.
Roger, still on his own deck, crossed his arms and grinned as if watching a theatre performance. Rayleigh merely adjusted his glasses, his lips twitching faintly upward.
Kyle didn't dodge. Didn't flinch.
His knees bent slightly.
Sonic Step — Instant.
The sea beneath his feet seemed to collapse inward, an invisible shockwave exploding out from his soles.
"Bang!"
The recoil hurled his body skyward, sending him soaring more than ten meters into the air.
"What—?!" The Captain's smirk faltered.
From his vantage in midair, sunlight flashed along the naginata's blade. Kyle swung it in a single, fluid motion — no flourishes, no wasted movement, just two months of relentless training condensed into one perfect slash.
The energy tore from the blade like a pale crescent moon, faster than the eye could follow. It cut into the middle cannonball first, shattering it in an instant, the resulting shock splintering the others beside it.
The sky bloomed with fragments of black iron, glittering briefly before splashing into the waves below.
---
Gasps and curses erupted from the pirate crew.
From the dissipating smoke, Kyle's silhouette emerged once more. His golden eyes locked onto the enemy ship.
"Game over."
The naginata's blade began to hum, the sound sharp and hungry.
Kyle poured everything he had into it — the rhythmic pulse of the ocean's waves, the momentum of the wind, the deep thrum of his own heartbeat. The air warped around the weapon, the pressure so intense it made the sky itself seem to scream.
"Listen closely," he murmured. "This is your requiem."
Both hands gripped the hilt. His body twisted back, every muscle coiling like a drawn bowstring.
Oni Giri: Baku Homing!
The blade swung.
For an instant, time seemed to fracture. A massive, phoenix-shaped shockwave burst forth, born from compressed sound and force so concentrated that the very air cracked like shattered glass.
The phoenix screamed — a piercing cry that rolled across the sea, scattering gulls in terror — and in a single beat of its wings, it crossed the hundred meters separating Kyle from the enemy.
---
The impact was cataclysmic.
"BOOM—!!!"
The shockwave smashed into the center of the Giant Axe Pirates' ship, the wood bending inward as if pressed by an unseen giant's fist. Then came the splintering — cracks racing outward in all directions until, with a final, echoing groan, the entire vessel tore itself apart.
Masts toppled. Planks exploded outward in a hail of debris. Pirates were flung screaming into the sea, their weapons spinning uselessly through the air.
The Captain's eyes widened in disbelief. His jaw worked, but no sound came. The next moment, a flying beam of shattered wood slammed into him, dragging him into the depths along with the wreckage of his ship.
---
The ocean fell eerily quiet, save for the wails of scattered survivors struggling among the wreckage.
Kyle stood once more upon the water, naginata resting loosely in his grip, his chest rising and falling with exertion. A rush of exhilaration coursed through him — a feeling so pure and unrestrained it made every muscle in his body feel lighter.
Fast moves, a cool pose, a finishing blow shouted at the top of your lungs — this was the passion of youth.
---
From Roger's deck, there was silence for a beat.
Then:
"Kuhahahaha!" Roger's laughter exploded into the open air, loud enough to startle seabirds from the rigging. He doubled over, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. He slapped Rayleigh's back hard enough to make the older man sway.
"Did you see that, Rayleigh?! Did you see that?! Well done, Kyle!"
Rayleigh, adjusting his glasses once more, simply smiled faintly — but in his eyes, behind the reflection of sunlight on the lenses, there was unmistakable pride.
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