Marine G-5 Branch – Meeting Room.
The air was thick and heavy, as if the entire room had been sealed inside a storm cloud. The only sound was the faint ticking of the wall clock and the occasional hiss of the projection Den Den Mushi on the table, faithfully casting an image against the far wall.
In the grainy image, smoke and mist swirled over an open sea.
Through that swirling haze, a lean figure appeared—young, unshaken, and standing tall. In his hands, a naginata glinted sharply under the sunlight.
The figure twisted his body into a perfect arc mid-air. His voice roared through the recording, so loud and fierce it almost made the viewers' eardrums ring.
> "Oni Giri: Baku Homing!"
The blade's swing unleashed a blinding light—followed by the birth of a massive, phoenix-shaped shockwave. It screamed across the waves, its wings made of raw force, before slamming headlong into a three-masted pirate ship.
The next moment, the once-sturdy hull splintered apart like a sandcastle hit by a hammer. Wood exploded into shards, men screamed, and the mighty vessel collapsed into the sea in a thunder of destruction.
Then—silence.
The frozen frame on the wall now showed only the boy's determined eyes and the lingering afterimage of the phoenix.
---
SLAM!
A thick file folder stuffed with documents smashed down onto the conference table.
Captain Bryan of G-5 stood there, face dark as a thundercloud. His broad hands gripped the folder so hard that the veins in his knuckles stood out. For a moment, it looked like the sturdy table itself might give way under his grip.
"The Giant Axe Pirate Crew!" His voice echoed like a cannon shot. "Captain—bounty: 600,000 Berries. Total crew bounty: over one million. And yet…" He jabbed a finger at the frozen image on the wall. "…they were completely annihilated by an unknown brat. Alone. In minutes. Someone explain this to me."
No one spoke.
Around the table, Marine officers exchanged uneasy glances. Some shifted in their seats; others stared rigidly ahead, unwilling to meet Bryan's eyes. The still image on the wall was hard to look away from—especially the way the young man's expression burned with defiance, as if daring the world to stop him.
At last, an intelligence officer cleared his throat. "Captain… based on survivor testimony and our preliminary image analysis… we believe the target is a Devil Fruit user. Likely Paramecia—control over shockwaves or sound waves. Possibly… a rare Logia-type."
"I don't care what he is!" Bryan barked, his voice slamming into the walls. "What I care about is this: a newcomer just destroyed a fully armed pirate ship with a single attack. That destructive power, that potential—if we don't contain it now, we'll be dealing with a nightmare in a few years."
The room erupted into low, urgent murmurs.
"His movement on the sea was strange—looked like he was walking on water. Definitely no ordinary ability."
"The range of his attack… over a hundred meters at least. Instantaneous. That's a high-level Fruit user, no question."
"But the biggest problem," a bespectacled Rear Admiral cut in, voice heavy, "is that he was sighted aboard the ship of Gol D. Roger and Silvers Rayleigh."
That name drop killed every whisper.
The room fell silent—so silent they could hear the faint buzz of the Den Den Mushi's eye.
Roger and Rayleigh's names were starting to circulate more and more along the Grand Line. They didn't appear often, but when they did, the world took notice. Entire islands remembered their visits. Some for the parties. Some for the wreckage.
Now the question loomed: Was this dangerous new kid one of theirs?
Bryan's face hardened. After a long pause, he grabbed a blank bounty draft and began writing in bold, decisive strokes.
"Prepare the poster," he ordered. "Distribute it to every branch, every news outlet. I want the whole world to know exactly who this kid is."
---
A few days later…
The news birds took flight across the seas, wings slicing through the wind. Each carried a bundle of papers and wanted posters, scattering them like leaves across islands, towns, and ships.
Among them was a fresh print:
A black-haired youth in mid-air, captured mid-strike, naginata arcing through the sky. The wind tugged at his hair; his golden eyes blazed with something between fury and thrill. It was the exact moment before impact—the moment before destruction.
The caption below read:
---
[WANTED]
[DEAD OR ALIVE]
[IRON KYLE]
Bounty: 1,500,000 Berries
---
Back on the battered ship…
"Kuhahahahaha! Finally—solid ground!" Roger stomped onto the dock, arms wide open, taking a deep breath as if the island air itself was rum. "Supplies! Meat! Rum! Party time!"
Behind him, their poor patched-up ship bobbed sadly. Thanks to a certain captain's "training demonstration" (and the frantic repairs by Rayleigh and Kyle), it had limped to this bustling port alive—but barely.
The harbor teemed with life: merchants shouting prices, fishermen unloading the day's catch, sailors laughing as they hauled crates. The air was thick with the smells of grilled seafood, fresh bread, and salt.
"I'm going for rum and meat." Roger didn't wait for agreement—he bolted into the crowd like a child chasing candy.
"I'll check nautical charts and stock up on supplies." Rayleigh adjusted his glasses and headed toward a quieter shop.
Kyle looked around. "Then I'll…" His gaze drifted—then landed on a small stall selling newspapers and wanted posters.
Curiosity tugged at him. Might as well see what big names are making waves lately.
He strolled over, scanning the wall of posters. Most faces were forgettable—pirates with toothy grins, mean scowls, or desperate stares. The bounties ranged from laughable to respectable.
Then—one caught his eye.
The ink looked fresh, still slightly glossy in the sunlight.
He leaned closer… and froze.
The face was young. Black hair. Golden eyes. Blade mid-swing.
Handsome—ridiculously handsome.
Kyle's first thought: Wow, who's this guy? He's damn good-looking.
His second thought: Oh. Wait. That's me.
---
He plucked the poster off the wall, heart hammering like a drum.
IRON KYLE.
Bounty: 1,500,000 Berries.
A slow grin spread across his face. Not bad. Not bad at all.
He tilted the paper this way and that, admiring the perfect angle of his jaw, the glint in his eyes. "They really captured my 'world-look-down-on-others kingly aura.' The posture, the defiance—it's flawless. But… hm. This is dangerous. What if lovesick maidens see this and start chasing me from island to island? A tragic fate for someone so devastatingly attractive…"
He gave a mock sigh. "Being handsome is suffering."
His eyes drifted down to the bounty amount.
And froze.
"One… million… five hundred thousand?" He blinked. "That's it?" His internal voice skyrocketed to outraged levels. ONE and a HALF million?! Are you kidding me?! My Baku Homing alone should be worth more than that just for the special effects budget! And my 'walking on the waves' entrance? That's priceless!
As he seethed, the vendor tacked up a few more posters nearby. Kyle's gaze wandered lazily—until he saw the next name.
---
[DEAD OR ALIVE]
[GOLD Roger]
Bounty: 15,500,000 Berries
The picture? Roger grinning like the neighborhood idiot.
---
Then another.
[DEAD OR ALIVE]
[Silvers Rayleigh]
Bounty: 13,000,000 Berries
Rayleigh, calm and collected, leaning against a railing like he owned the ocean.
---
Kyle stared at them. Then at his own poster.
Then back at theirs.
Then back at his.
Slowly… his bounty poster stopped feeling like a proud trophy and started feeling like an insult printed on paper.
Especially knowing that Roger and Rayleigh were in their twenties, that their crew was barely formed, and that bounties of this magnitude were almost unheard of in this era.
---
"Kuhahaha! Kyle! What's got you so serious?" Roger's booming voice shattered his thoughts. The man appeared, barrels of rum swinging from one hand, a slab of raw meat slung over the other shoulder.
Spotting the poster, Roger's eyes lit up. "Ooooh! Is that your wanted poster? Kuhahaha! One and a half million! Not bad, kid! First battle and you're already famous!" He clapped Kyle on the shoulder hard enough to rattle his bones.
Rayleigh arrived a moment later, a bag of supplies in one hand. He glanced at the paper, adjusting his glasses with a small smile. "Looks like the Marines took note of your debut."
The two of them looked at him like proud parents admiring a child's report card. Kyle looked at their own bounties again and felt the cruel wind of reality whip through his chest.
"Tch…" He muttered under his breath, "What's so great about it? You've only got one more zero than me…"
And in that moment, he understood—
People's joys and sorrows really are not the same.
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