As Buggy's fury took hold, the crew instinctively cleared a wide space near the cross on the deck.
He raised his hands, sliding eight throwing knives between the gaps of his fingers.
"Bara Bara, Festival Knives!"
The moment the words left his mouth, both of Buggy's hands detached from his arms, whirling through the air with a sharp, slicing sound. Tom, bound tightly to the wooden cross, struggled frantically, trying to break free, but to no avail. His terrified eyes reflected the spinning blades as they slashed across his body, tearing open more than a dozen bloody wounds.
All that followed were screams of unbearable pain.
Buggy's severed hands, still gripping the knives, flew back through the air and snapped cleanly onto his arms once more. He glanced at Tom, now writhing in agony, and smiled with perverse satisfaction.
"Bara Bara, Festival Knives!"
Just as everyone thought Buggy might stop there, the blades spun off once more, just like before, carving fresh wounds into Tom's body again.
"Uwah... Captain, please! I'm begging you... it hurts so much...!"
The once-overbearing Tom now howled like a frightened woman.
But Buggy showed no mercy. Again and again the blades returned, each time leaving new trails of blood. Half an hour passed in this cruel cycle. By the end, there wasn't a single patch of unbroken skin left on Tom's body, he was barely clinging to life.
At first, the crew had watched in stunned silence. But as the torture dragged on, their expressions slowly shifted from shock... to exhilaration. When Tom finally died from blood loss, the crew broke into raucous cheers for their captain's "greatness."
None were more delighted than the sinister Cabaji, Buggy's chief of staff, whose perpetually grim face now glowed with bloodthirsty glee.
On a pirate ship, the captain was god, the supreme authority. His will was law, his desires sacred.
And Buggy the Clown… took great pleasure in tormenting the weak.
Under his leadership, many of the crew followed suit, harassing the powerless for sport. That's what had created people like Tom, both abuser and, in the end, the abused.
But Kurou was different.
From the very beginning, he had despised such cruelty. Even if he became strong one day, he would never use that strength to oppress the innocent. So when Tom died, Kurou felt no pity... nor any joy.
Ever since the moment he was dragged aboard, Kurou had never once considered himself part of the Buggy Pirates.
He thought maybe, just maybe, with Tom gone, things would get a little better. That maybe the beatings would stop.
But nothing changed.
He was still the same, just another weak, lowly laborer at the bottom of the chain.
Two more days passed. The ship neared its destination: Orange Town.
That day, Kurou was ordered to paint the ship's railings. While he was focused on his task, a blur of fur and muscle suddenly crashed into him from nowhere, Richie, the lion, barreled into Kurou and the paint bucket, knocking both to the ground and splattering bright red paint all over his body.
Kurou stumbled to his feet, drenched and dazed, only to see Vice-Captain Mohji nearby, hand over his mouth, laughing to himself. Richie stood beside him, glaring at Kurou like a predator sizing up its prey.
Who else could have sent the lion if not Mohji?
When Mohji noticed Kurou staring back at him, his smirk vanished instantly.
Red paint dripped from Kurou's soaked clothes onto the deck. His fists clenched. Rage boiled in his chest.
Mohji frowned, clearly irritated. "What? You got a problem with me, kid?"
Richie roared in sync with his master, baring his blade-like claws and lashing the deck with a snarl.
But Kurou didn't back down.
He glared at Mohji with fury. "What the hell is your problem?"
Mohji was the vice-captain, second only to Buggy aboard this ship.
For a measly deckhand to challenge him? It was outrageous.
"Watch your tone. Do you even know who you're talking to, brat?" Mohji snapped, chest puffed with pride. Richie roared again, menacingly.
"I don't give a damn who you are," Kurou growled. "I'm asking you what you meant by that stunt just now!"
His voice rose with every word. He wasn't backing down in the slightest.
Mohji was stunned. This little worm actually has guts?
What he didn't know was that the moment Kurou had resolved to assassinate Tom, he'd already cast aside all fear of death. Better to die in defiance than live on in humiliation.
If the people are no longer afraid of death, how can death be used to rule them?
But still, the fury of the weak meant nothing.
Mohji's smile turned cold. "Alright then. Richie, tear him apart."
At the command, Richie opened his maw wide, ready to pounce.
But just before the beast could leap, a fist came from the side, slamming into Kurou's face.
He was sent flying, rolling ten meters across the deck until he crashed into a bulkhead with a thud.
Kurou looked up, dazed, and saw Buggy the Clown standing before him.
Buggy had been passing by and had witnessed the whole scene.
Arms crossed, he looked down at Kurou with a mocking expression.
"Hey, brat. Has no one ever taught you the difference between ranks? Mohji's our vice-captain. Who the hell do you think you are to talk to him like that?"
In Buggy's world, there was no right or wrong, only strength and weakness.
If Richie tore Kurou to shreds right here, he wouldn't lift a finger.
"Take this idiot," Buggy ordered, "lock him in the bottom hold. Don't give him foor and no sunlight. Two full days."
"Yes, Captain," came the reply.
Kurou was dragged away. As he disappeared, Mohji leaned toward Buggy and said, "Captain, he insulted me. Shouldn't we just kill him outright?"
But Buggy simply chuckled. "Orange Town's just up ahead. We're about to get our own territory. This captain's in a damn good mood these days, so let him live. I'm a merciful man, aren't I?"
Mohji said nothing more.
Night.
The bottom-most hold.
Darkness closed in from all sides. Kurou sat alone on the cold wooden floor, arms wrapped around his knees. Emptiness. Isolation and Misery. They all crashed down on him at once. His eyes dimmed.
Is this it?
Am I really going to spend the rest of my life like this? Beaten, humiliated… and die in despair?
Why me? Why this fate?!
Just as those thoughts threatened to consume him,
Something happened.
Something that reignited a blazing flame inside his chest.
[System Notice: Shinobi System initializing… now loading Naruto Item Store… reading user data… please wait…]
…Huh?
What was that?
Still reeling from his earlier pain, Kurou suddenly found his entire focus drawn to the mysterious voice echoing in his mind.
He listened carefully with his heart pounding.
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150 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter