By the time I looked up, I'd put three Marines through a weapon rack and lost track of the bloke whose rifle I'd grabbed. He was probably under the other two.
Most of the men on the ground were still moving. One had stopped groaning long enough to check whether I was watching, then shut his eyes again when he caught me looking. Fair enough. I respected the hustle.
Toma made it to the steps, where a sergeant pulled him behind an overturned crate. Then a sabre hit the side of my neck and rather rudely interrupted my headcount. The edge nicked me before stopping against my skin. I looked down at the blade, then at the Marine gripping it with both hands.
"Damn. Budget cuts hitting the steel now, too?"
He tried to wrench it free. I twisted his wrist until he let go, caught the sabre and hit him across the face with the flat. He dropped beside the weapon rack, giving his mate another excellent reason to keep pretending.
A second man caught me across the ribs while I was turning. His blade opened my uniform and left a thin cut that closed as I watched. He backed up, holding his sabre between us.
"Wait."
"No, no. Commit to the bit."
He swung again. I took it on my forearm and stepped in close enough to headbutt him. The blade had barely marked me that time, though my forehead was getting sore. There were probably better ways to do this but I was enjoying this one.
"Stop using blades!" Vale shouted. "Get the batons!"
She'd moved behind a fresh line of Marines. I caught sight of her between their shoulders and waved the stolen sabre.
"What's wrong, Captain? Thought we were having a moment."
Someone stabbed me in the back before she could answer. I felt the point catch against my skin, reached behind me and hauled him over my shoulder into the men in front. The sabre went with them; I liked my hands free.
The next few rushed together. I drove them back towards the wall, mostly by hitting whoever got close enough and letting him inconvenience his friends. One slid across the dirt into a water barrel, bursting it against the stone.
I jumped away from the spreading water before I could help myself.
I had no idea how much water it took to fuck with a Devil Fruit user. A shallow puddle was probably fine, but getting no-diffed by basic hydration would be an embarrassing way to find out.
Vale caught the movement immediately.
"Force him towards the water!"
Fahh! Fuck you, Vale!
"Move!" she ordered.
This time, the men spread out enough to cut off my way back into the yard. Batons came over their shoulders while others went for my legs. I grabbed the first man by his jacket and swung him into another, but someone caught my shoulder with an iron bar before I could let go.
My arm dipped. That one properly fucking hurt.
"There!" the Marine shouted. "That hurt him!"
"Bitch please!" I punched him in the stomach, but his mates were already closing in. They crowded me away from the dry ground, swinging anything heavy they could get hold of. One bloke had picked up half the baton I'd broken over Toma. Nice to see someone taking recycling seriously.
I'd taken plenty of hits during training. Having half the branch climb onto me while the other half tried to break my knees was proving a bit more difficult to shrug off.
My foot slipped, and I dropped to one knee. Hands caught my hair and collar. Someone hooked an arm around my throat while another Marine pinned my left arm back. Every time I tried to get my feet under me, something slammed into my ribs or spine.
For a few seconds, I couldn't get enough air to swear at them. Then the man choking me yelled for someone else to help, and I started laughing.
"Stop laughing!" Vale screeched.
"Hah!" I wheezed, "You jumped me with thirty dudes and still sound insecure."
He squeezed harder. I tucked my chin against his elbow and got a foot flat against the ground. The next hit drove a grunt out of me, but I kept pushing. By the time I stood, his boots were dangling, and two other men had lost their grip on my shirt.
A baton struck my back. I felt it, but my legs held. I reached over my shoulder, peeled the arm from my neck and threw its owner into the men blocking my way. The others let go as I staggered clear of the pile.
"Monster," someone said behind me.
I was starting to like that one. It certainly beat Petty Officer, which mostly involved carrying lunch.
Across the yard, Vale had retreated again. I spat blood out of my mouth and straightened, rolling the shoulder that had taken the iron bar. It already moved more easily.
"Captain! Are you hiding behind your men?"
"Hold your positions," she told them.
Several glanced back at her anyway. Before I could make anything of that, a lieutenant raised his pistol and shouted for the riflemen to fire.
The men around me scattered or threw themselves flat. I grabbed the nearest by his collar and hauled him out of the way as the first shot passed my head. The next hit my shoulder, hard enough to turn me sideways.
Ah. Guns were still a problem.
I charged the rifle line before they could get comfortable. Rounds struck my thigh and stomach on the way in, but I reached the first man as he was trying to reload and tore his weapon out of his hands. I used it to knock him into the man beside him, then broke the stock across another Marine's jaw.
Someone shot me in the side at point-blank range.
I folded against him for a moment, gripping his jacket as I tried to catch my breath. He fumbled with the rifle, desperately trying to bring it between us again.
"Good shot," I managed.
He looked up just before I slammed him into the wooden post behind him.
More men were taking aim beyond the ones I'd knocked down. I pushed through them, trying to stay close enough that they couldn't get a clear shot, but every gap seemed to have another barrel waiting.
The mark on my right hand burned. Blood kept running from my side, and my left arm was becoming difficult to lift. Whatever my body was doing, it needed to hurry the fuck up.
"Keep firing!" Vale ordered.
The next shots caught me as I shoved a Marine aside. My left shoulder jerked back, and the arm dropped uselessly against my ribs. I stumbled onto my right hand, staring at the blood dripping into the dirt beneath it.
Barely anything held my left arm on.
Vale stepped closer behind the riflemen. "Keep him covered. There's your limit, Voss."
I tried to stand and almost fell again. Across the yard, Toma was crouched behind the crate near the steps, the medicine pressed against his chest. Sergeant Mallor stood in front of him with his rifle lowered. He was the man who'd hesitated before raising the baton earlier.
At least he'd found something better to do with his hands.
Vale followed my glance.
"Secure the child."
"Don't."
She sent two men towards him with a flick of her hand. Mallor stepped into their path, but one shoved past him while the other went around the crate.
I got up. My thigh nearly gave out halfway there, and I hit the first Marine with my right shoulder because I couldn't get my fist up in time. He went skidding across the yard. Something tore on my left side, and my arm dropped into the dirt behind us.
The second man already had Toma by the wrist. I caught his hand and squeezed until he released the boy, then drove him away with a punch.
Toma stared at the blood running from my empty sleeve. I shifted to block his view, which was probably a bit optimistic given how much of me was covered in it.
"Still got the medicine?"
He nodded, clutching the bundle tighter.
"Good. Mallor, take him and go."
"Sergeant Mallor," Vale called. "You will remain where you are."
His grip tightened on his rifle. For a moment, he stayed beside the crate, looking at the captain over my shoulder. Toma tugged at his sleeve.
"Please. I have to get home."
Mallor slung the rifle over his shoulder and took the boy's hand.
"This way, lad."
He started towards the side gate, keeping Toma close to the wall. I turned back to Vale before she could send anyone else after them.
"Traitor," she said.
Mallor's shoulders jerked, but he kept walking. Good man. We could discuss his earlier career choices after the kid got home.
Vale lifted her cutlass towards the gate.
"Shoot them."
I moved across the riflemen's line of fire as Mallor shoved Toma behind the storage crates. The volley hit me before they could reach the gate.
I stayed upright for the first few impacts, then my knees buckled. My remaining hand caught the edge of a crate, and I hung there, dragging air through my teeth while Mallor crouched over Toma behind me.
The men were reloading. I could hear the lieutenant shouting at them to hurry. I tried to straighten, but my leg wouldn't take my weight, and the wood creaked under my hand.
Come on. I'd done the stupid part. More than my fair share, actually.
The wheel shifted beneath my fingers.
Clink.
Something pushed out of the wound in my stomach and landed beside my boot. Another bullet followed it, then several more as the holes across my chest tightened shut. I coughed, sucked in a breath that finally reached the bottom of my lungs, and almost laughed with relief.
Then my left shoulder started itching.
I looked down as flesh grew past the torn sleeve. My elbow formed, followed by a forearm and a hand whose fingers curled before I thought to move them. I flexed them again, staring. I'd been hoping to stop bleeding. This was considerably fucking better.
One of the riflemen whispered something that sounded like a prayer.
"Round two?" I asked.
He lowered his weapon. The man beside him took a step back, bumping into someone still trying to reload.
Holy shit. Was this how Gojo felt after learning RCT? I had an entire new arm and a very erratic amount of confidence.
"Cowards," Vale snapped. "He's one boy!"
I stepped away from the crates, keeping myself between the riflemen and the gap where Mallor and Toma were sheltering. Nobody seemed keen to try another volley.
"Captain, your boys are being shy."
She pointed her cutlass at the nearest man. "Raise your rifle."
He did, slowly, but his finger stayed clear of the trigger.
"You coming over here," I called, "or do more employees need to die on company time first?"
Vale pushed past him. The others cleared a path so quickly one nearly tripped over a fallen rifle. She stopped a few paces away, the blade that had opened my throat hanging at her side.
I flexed my new hand once more and planted my feet. This was the part I'd wanted, though remembering how quickly she'd put me on my knees took some of the fun out of it.
"You've beaten men weaker than you," she said. "Don't mistake that for beating me."
"Then come fix it."
She moved. I was watching her feet this time and got my head out of the way before the cutlass passed my face. My fist caught her coat as she turned, barely connecting, and her elbow cracked into my jaw.
I caught her wrist, but she twisted free before I could hold on. Her cutlass swept across my stomach as she pulled away.
I backed up a step, touching the blood on my stomach. The cut was shallow, already closing, but she'd done more with one swing than the other swordsmen had managed between them.
"You are learning," she said.
"Yeah. Bad news for you."
She kept me busy after that. Every time I reached for her, she slipped away and left another cut. I could heal them, but landing a proper hit was getting fucking annoying. My ribs ached from a kick I'd barely seen, and she'd opened my cheek while I was still trying to wipe blood out of my eye.
I stopped chasing her blade and crowded her towards the open yard, away from the crates. She gave ground reluctantly, cutting at my arms whenever I got too close. A slash caught my forearm with enough force to turn it aside; the next left a shorter line across the same skin.
Vale glanced at it and changed her grip.
"Still here," I told her.
She kicked my knee. My leg dipped, and her cutlass came down at my neck before I could recover.
I caught the blade between my palms.
The edge bit deep enough to make my fingers spasm, but I held on. Vale leaned into it with both hands on the hilt, pushing me lower while blood ran down my wrists.
I got my foot back under me and started to stand. She tried to draw the blade through my hands. It moved just enough to hurt like hell, then stopped.
The wheel warmed against the steel.
Vale looked at my right hand and yanked backwards. I stepped with her, keeping the cutlass trapped. My palms were still bleeding, but the edge no longer went deeper. When she pulled again, it dragged her towards me instead.
"Captain." I grinned at her over the blade as she braced a boot against the dirt.
Clink.
The wheel turned beneath the blood. I tightened my hands around the steel, and this time it didn't cut.
"Adapted."
Then I headbutted her.
…
End of Chapter!
Word Count - 2348