-Broadcast-
Smoker had known Hina for years—shared drinks with her countless times, fought alongside her through dozens of operations, trusted her judgment implicitly. In all that time, he'd never heard genuine panic in her voice. Hina was composed, professional, unshakeable even in the worst situations.
But that scream over the Den Den Mushi? That had been pure terror.
Vergo wasn't bluffing, Smoker realized, the traitor's final words taking on horrifying new significance. Buggy isn't what we thought. He's set a trap, and Hina walked right into it.
The Admiral still couldn't fully accept it. Buggy the Clown—the joke Shichibukai, the incompetent pirate with a useless Bara Bara no Mi (Chop-Chop Fruit) who'd somehow bumbled his way through Impel Down's chaos. That Buggy couldn't possibly be dangerous enough to threaten four Vice Admirals.
Yet Vergo knew something. Had died with that smug smile, confident in whatever scheme Doflamingo had orchestrated.
I have to go. Now.
Smoker's gaze swept across the devastated battlefield, cataloging priorities with tactical precision. Caesar Clown had escaped via that fish—a significant loss, but not an immediate crisis. Admiral Gin remained on scene, capable of coordinating the survivors and pursuing the Founding Titan. The situation here was under control, or as controlled as it could be given the circumstances.
But Hina and the others? They needed him immediately.
He spotted Admiral Gin among the scattered Marines maintaining altitude through Geppo (Moonwalk), the Rain-Rain Fruit user's dark silhouette distinctive against the smoke-filled sky. Smoker transformed his lower body into white smoke, propelling himself across the distance with acceleration that would have broken a normal human's spine.
"Gin!" Smoker called as he approached, his voice carrying urgency. "I need to leave the battlefield. Hina's team may be under attack—Buggy's set some kind of ambush. I have to—"
"Go," Gin interrupted, his expression grim but understanding. "This is your operation. Your responsibility. I'll handle things here."
"Caesar Clown escaped," Smoker continued rapidly, professional discipline overriding his urgency. "A fighting fish—about twenty meters long—swallowed him whole and dove deep. Someone needs to intercept before—"
"I'll find it." Gin's eyes had already taken on that distant quality that indicated his Devil Fruit's sensory network spreading across the ocean. The Ame Ame no Mi (Rain-Rain Fruit) granted him phenomenal detection capabilities when water was involved. "You focus on your people. Don't lose any more Marines today."
Smoker nodded once, sharply, then his entire body dissolved into smoke. Acceleration hit instantly—a rocket of compressed gas shooting across the sky toward the horizon, leaving only a white contrail to mark his passage.
Gin watched him disappear, then turned his attention downward. His hand extended, and the very atmosphere responded to his will. A light rain began falling across the ocean's surface—delicate, almost gentle, but each droplet carried his consciousness like millions of tiny sensors spreading across the water.
The ripples created by the rainfall penetrated deep, bouncing off objects, creatures, currents. Through this network, Gin could "see" the ocean's depths as clearly as if he possessed X-ray vision. Schools of fish. Underwater terrain. Thermal vents. And there—nearly a thousand meters down, hiding in the crushing darkness—a distinctive heat signature.
Found you, Gin thought with satisfaction. Hiding deep and holding your breath. Clever. But not clever enough.
The fighting fish was suppressing its movement, trying to become part of the background. Against normal Observation Haki, it might have worked. But Gin's fruit granted him domain over all precipitation, and the ocean was just rain that had already fallen.
He couldn't pursue personally—the Founding Titan remained active, and only someone at Admiral level could hope to engage Doflamingo effectively. But he had resources.
"Helmeppo!" Gin's voice cut across the survivors' chatter. "New assignment!"
The bald Marine snapped to attention immediately, carefully transferring Saint Donquixote Mjosgard from his shoulder to another officer's care. "Sir!"
"The target is a fighting fish approximately twenty meters in length, currently at bearing 047, depth one thousand meters." Gin's eyes remained closed, tracking the creature through his rain network. "It has Caesar Clown in its stomach—alive, if we're lucky. Your orders are to extract the scientist. Lethal force authorized against the fish. Questions?"
"No sir." Helmeppo's expression showed no hesitation despite the daunting assignment. "Permission to engage immediately?"
"Granted. The rest of you—" Gin addressed the surviving Marines, about two hundred exhausted men and women floating above a graveyard ocean. "Return to Dressrosa. Search for survivors. Establish a field medical station. Rest if you can. The next phase of this operation won't require your participation, and I need you alive for what comes after."
It was a dismissal born of pragmatism rather than insult. Everyone present understood the hierarchy of power in the world. The gap between a Vice Admiral and an Admiral was significant. The gap between an Admiral and someone like Doflamingo or the Founding Titan was even larger. Regular Marines—even skilled ones—would only become collateral damage in such confrontations.
Better they live to fight battles they can actually win, Gin thought, watching them begin their descent toward the island. We've lost too many already.
Helmeppo waited until the crowd dispersed, then pulled a distinctive weapon from his back—a combination Zen staff and blade called a monk's spade, its dual nature reflecting his unique fighting style. The moment his hands gripped the weapon's shaft, his entire demeanor shifted from soldier to warrior-monk.
"Buddha's mercy on what I'm about to do," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly in what might have been prayer or meditation.
Then his body began to change.
The transformation started with light—golden radiance seeping from his skin like he'd swallowed the sun. His muscles expanded, clothing tearing away as his frame grew from normal human proportions to over five meters tall. But this wasn't grotesque enlargement; rather, his body maintained perfect symmetry and proportion, just scaled up to the size of a small giant.
Most striking was the aura. A halo of Buddha-light manifested behind his head, and his skin took on a metallic golden sheen that made him look like a living statue carved from precious metal. His eyes, when they opened, glowed with inner fire—not the red of rage but the warm gold of enlightenment.
Character Notes: Helmeppo, former spoiled brat turned dedicated Marine, wielder of the Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Arhat (Human-Human Fruit, Mythical Zoan)
"Admiral Gin," Helmeppo said, his voice deeper and resonating with harmonic overtones. "I'll return with the target within ten minutes."
Without waiting for acknowledgment, he dove.
The impact with the ocean should have been devastating—a five-meter giant hitting water at terminal velocity creates a splash visible for miles. But Helmeppo entered the water with barely a ripple, the Buddha-light surrounding him repelling the sea like oil refusing to mix with water.
That fruit really is something special, Gin observed, watching the golden glow descend into darkness. The Buddhist Kingdom only accepts one student every twenty years. Helmeppo must have impressed them considerably.
The Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Arhat was among the rarest Mythical Zoan fruits—a power that granted not just transformation, but enlightenment. Users could manifest the qualities of a perfected Buddhist warrior: diamond-hard body, supernatural strength, clarity of purpose, and most uniquely, the ability to maintain their power even in seawater.
Not immunity to the ocean's weakening effect—that was impossible for any Devil Fruit user. But the Buddha-light provided a barrier that kept the seawater from direct contact with the user's body, allowing them to fight underwater as effectively as on land. Combined with Helmeppo's natural affinity for aquatic combat, it made him the perfect hunter for deep-sea targets.
One thousand meters beneath the surface, Derringer maintained his transformation with increasing desperation. The Donquixote Family officer was a half-fishman, granting him natural underwater advantages, but maintaining the illusion of a giant fighting fish while suppressing all movement was exhausting even for someone of his abilities.
Just a little longer, he thought, his lungs burning despite his enhanced respiratory system. Once the Marines give up the search, I can surface and deliver Caesar to the Young Master's contacts.
The plan had been perfect. Caesar's "capture" had been staged—the scientist was too valuable to actually lose. Derringer would play dead weight on the prison ship, wait for the inevitable titan chaos, then extract Caesar during the confusion. The Marines would assume a natural predator had interfered, never suspecting deliberate rescue.
Everything had gone smoothly until—
Golden light pierced the darkness above him.
Derringer's eyes widened as a figure descended through the crushing depths like a falling star, illumination growing brighter with every meter. No. No, that's impossible. Devil Fruit users can't fight this deep!
But the evidence swam directly toward him with purposeful strokes, a golden giant wielding a monk's spade like the weapon of a divine guardian.
Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Arhat, Derringer realized with dawning horror. I've heard rumors, but I thought they were myths. The fruit that lets you touch the ocean without drowning...
He abandoned stealth immediately. Survival instinct overrode the mission—if he stayed hidden, that golden demon would find him anyway. Better to fight in his true form with full strength than die pretending to be a fish.
The illusion shattered. What had appeared to be a twenty-meter fighting fish suddenly compressed, revealing Derringer's actual form—a four-meter-tall half-fishman with bull-like horns, gills along his neck, and webbed extremities built for underwater speed. His trademark giraffe-pattern sleeves remained even in this form, a bizarrely fashionable touch on a deep-sea predator.
He opened his mouth wide, intending to swallow the golden warrior whole. If he could get the Marine inside his stomach where the Buddha-light couldn't reach, the seawater would do the rest.
Helmeppo didn't dodge. Instead, he positioned his monk's spade horizontally like a bar across a door, bracing for impact.
Derringer's jaws closed around the weapon—and stopped cold.
The Zen staff portion of the monk's spade wedged against his palate while the blade portion pressed against his tongue. No matter how hard he bit down, the weapon wouldn't budge. It was like trying to bite through diamond.
Blood began flowing from his torn gums as his own strength worked against him, the weapon's edges cutting deeper with every contraction of his jaw muscles. The water around them turned crimson, the visibility dropping to almost nothing.
What is this creature made of?! Derringer thought desperately, trying to shake his head and dislodge the Marine. His body is harder than steel!
"Evil beast," Helmeppo's voice carried clearly through the water, the Buddha-light somehow conveying sound despite the physics-defying impossibility. "Why do you not submit to death?"
The golden warrior's free hand pulled back, fingers curling into a specific configuration that made the Buddha-light around him intensify until it was almost blinding.
"Arhat Fist: Subduing the Tiger!"
The technique erupted with catastrophic force. A massive tiger-shaped construct of pure Buddha-light materialized from Helmeppo's body—easily ten meters from head to tail, composed entirely of golden energy that burned with righteous fury.
The phantom tiger roared—a sound that should have been impossible underwater but reverberated through the ocean like a depth charge. Then it launched forward, passing through Helmeppo's own body without resistance before striking Derringer head-on.
The half-fishman had no time to scream. The Buddha-light tiger tore through his skull with the force of a cannon shell, continuing through his torso and exploding out his back in a spray of vaporized blood and tissue. The sheer heat of the attack cauterized the wounds instantly, preventing regeneration through Terra's power.
Derringer's upper body simply ceased to exist. His jaw, which had been clamped on Helmeppo's weapon, went slack as death claimed him instantly. What remained of his corpse began sinking into the abyss, just another casualty in Dressrosa's bloodbath.
Helmeppo watched the body descend for a moment, then noticed something floating amid the debris. A figure in a purple jumpsuit, unconscious but alive—Caesar Clown, protected inside Derringer's stomach until the very moment of death.
Target acquired, Helmeppo thought, grabbing the scientist by the collar. Time to surface.
He kicked upward, the Buddha-light propelling him through the water faster than any human swimmer could manage. Within seconds, he'd cleared a thousand meters, Caesar's unconscious form dragging behind him like a caught fish.
When he finally broke the surface near Dressrosa's shore, several Marines rushed to help secure the prisoner. Helmeppo's golden transformation faded gradually, his body shrinking back to normal proportions as the exhaustion of maintaining both the fruit's power and underwater combat finally caught up with him.
"Mission accomplished," he reported to the nearest officer, his voice returning to its normal register. "Caesar Clown is alive and secured. The hostile has been eliminated."
As Caesar was carried away in seastone restraints, none of the Marines present realized they'd just witnessed the death of the Donquixote Family's final executive. Derringer had died without leaving a last word, without anyone knowing his true identity, erased from history as thoroughly as the Buddha-light had erased his body.
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