Jin vs. Gasparde!
The clash began in an instant.
Jin lunged forward, his body exploding with motion. He twisted in midair, his leg slicing across like a blade. The kick roared with cutting wind as it crashed toward Gasparde's cheek.
CRACK!
But instead of bone shattering, Gasparde's face dissolved. His flesh liquefied into a sloshing, sickly green jelly, splattering like melted wax.
He had invoked his power at once—his Paramecia-type Candy-Candy Fruit, a pseudo-Logia that let his body become fluid, malleable, untouchable.
Among Devil Fruits—the strange treasures of the sea—the categories were well known: Paramecia, Zoan, and Logia.
Yet certain fruits blurred the lines. Mythical Zoans that defied expectations. Or Paramecia like Gasparde's Ame Ame no Mi, or Katakuri's Mochi-Mochi no Mi, which let bodies flow like liquid, mimicking the feared intangibility of Logias.
In these early waters of the Grand Line, before Haki became widely known, such powers were terrifying—practically invincible.
Gasparde's only flaw was that flour or powder could harden his candy body, stripping him of his strength.
Jin knew all this. That kick had only been bait, a test. The moment he felt the jelly surge around his leg, he ripped his foot back, dodging before Gasparde could bind him.
GLURP…
The pirate's melted face writhed, reforming into features, eyes narrowing.
"You predicted my move?" His tone was edged with suspicion. "A coincidence? Instinct? Or… something else?"
He stretched both arms, voice suddenly calm, almost magnanimous.
"Is this all you have, boy? If you wish to live, kneel now. Become my subordinate, and I'll forgive this insult."
Jin's answer was a sharp, cold laugh.
"Forgive? You think I need your mercy?"
He shot forward again, another whip-crack kick slashing for the man's jaw.
But Gasparde had prepared this time. His torso rippled into jelly, the strike passing harmlessly through. His counterattack came fast—his fist swung wide in a brutal arc, a soldier's strike honed by years in the Navy.
BAM!
The punch slammed into Jin's shoulder with crushing force. Pain lanced through him as his body hurtled backward, skidding across the deck.
"Khfff—"
Blood flecked his lips as he coughed, struggling to rise. His face twisted in pain, yet his eyes… shone with fierce delight.
As expected of a man worth 95 million berries. Strong. Relentless. The perfect whetstone.
According to Little Ai's analysis, Jin's body—tempered by spacetime's strange energy—was a vessel of infinite potential. His current "weakness" was no more than a protective shell, a crust that caged the pearl within.
To grow stronger, he had to break it.
There were two ways.
One—through inner force: ceaseless training, grinding his body against its limits until the shell cracked from within.
Two—through external force: by hurling himself into battles where death licked at his heels, forcing his sleeping power to awaken in desperation.
The second path was faster. But walk it too carelessly, and one mistake meant death.
Gasparde was the perfect adversary. Dangerous, but not untouchable.
"Again!" Jin roared.
He surged back, fists and feet flying, his strikes born from countless scraps, drills with pirates and soldiers alike—imperfect, unrefined, but wild with raw intent.
Gasparde blocked and deflected, unimpressed.
"A street-brawler's tricks?" he sneered.
He saw it already: Jin had no master, no formal style. Just talent and toughness. A street fighter's adaptability, but no polished technique. Effective against fodder. Useless against veterans.
Like Usopp's tricks, or Nami's clever traps—brilliant against the unwary, but outclassed by true warriors who honed skill with every battle. Like Luffy, Zoro, Sanji.
And Jin knew it too. That was why he had chosen this fight.
BAM-BAM!
Two more cannon-like punches smashed into him. His chest heaved, blood rising hot to his throat. He spat crimson onto the deck.
"You disappoint me," Gasparde growled. "I thought you were someone. But this? You'll die, and no one will remember your name."
His left arm liquefied again, shaping into a wicked cone of hardened sugar.
SHHHK!
He lunged, stabbing with the candy-spear. Dozens of jabs burst in a blur, glints of deadly cold flashing as the cone shot for Jin's heart, throat, joints.
Each thrust came with killing intent. Each could end the fight.
Jin twisted, dodging, barely evading. But his own strikes were useless—every blow sank harmlessly into jelly, threatening to trap him.
So this was why the Logias were called the "strongest." Against them, without Haki or knowledge of their flaw, one could only defend, only endure.
And endurance alone meant death.
Gasparde pressed the rhythm, his offense relentless. Jin's blood stained his clothes, his steps grew heavier, slower.
BAM!
Another blow flung him across the deck. He hit the railing hard, blood streaming from his nose and lips.
"Master…" Little Ai's voice whispered in his mind. "Shall I—?"
"Not yet!" Jin hissed, wiping the crimson from his mouth. "Not until I reach the edge."
Though battered, though bleeding, he felt it—the fire in his veins, his body burning, forging. Like crude iron hammered on an anvil, every strike knocked away impurities, shaping him into steel.
He closed his eyes. Calm. Listening inward.
And he felt it—something more.
Vitality.
Yes.
Last night, when the Carrier's engine thundered and power surged through him, he had been struck by a thought.
What was Haki, truly?
He remembered some ancient writings—of "Vitality/Life Force," an invisible force born within the body.
To manifest Haki was to draw that force outward.
And there were three forms.
Conqueror's Haki—the Will.
Observation Haki—the Heart.
Armament Haki—the Body.
"To refine the body, first correct the heart. To correct the heart, first make the will sincere. The body obeys the heart, the heart flows from will, the will reveals truth, and truth is grasped through all things."
In that moment—
Jin understood.
Haki was no longer mystery. It was life, breath, essence.
The fire within him surged. The seed split. Something invisible burst outward.
WHOOOSH!
The Candy-Spear slashed down, a storm of deadly points.
"DIE!" Gasparde thundered.
But Jin's aura changed.
Heat bled from his skin, like molten iron just struck, his entire body cloaked in unseen fire.
"What—what is this?!"
Gasparde's eyes widened in shock.
Jin did not dodge. He raised his hand.
And from the storm of stabbing sugar, he caught the candy-spear.
It did not pierce. It did not bind.
His palm was wrapped in black—gleaming, solid, unyielding.
The sheen of Armament Haki.