OP: Turtle Hermit

~Amber Cone Island – Harbor District~

"Help! Please! Somebody help me—!"

BOOM—BOOM—CRASH!

The screams were swallowed by the thunder of explosions. Buildings crumbled like sandcastles, wood and stone blown apart by erupting fireballs. Plumes of smoke twisted into the sky like black serpents. Flames spilled from rooftops and alleyways, lighting the overcast morning in hellish orange.

The scent of burning flesh was thick in the air.

Mothers clutched their children, bloodied and crying, sprinting over the corpses of neighbors. A horse lay mangled in the street, its rider torn apart by falling debris. Chunks of brick and beams rained from above, burying people alive in the wreckage.

It wasn't war. It was annihilation.

And the man responsible walked calmly through the carnage—like a guest admiring the scenery at a grand party.

A white suit untouched by blood. A blank porcelain mask without expression. A tall, exaggerated top hat. His hands, slim and precise, flicked glowing white spheres from his sleeves with mechanical rhythm.

Each sphere blinked with growing light before detonating in a flash of devastating heat and pressure.

BOOM!

He hurled another over his shoulder, chuckling like a man tossing flowers at a wedding.

"Ahahaha! Come now, let's play catch! Isn't this fun? Let's play!" he sang, the flames illuminating his silhouette like a god of death.

People ran. They screamed. They begged. But he didn't even acknowledge them as human.

His eyes—hidden behind the blank mask—were focused only on the game.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

The roar tore through the collapsing street like a thunderclap.

A surge of air ripped past—shattering the nearest windows. In an instant, four of the burning white spheres were slashed out of the air, cleaved in half before they could detonate.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—BOOM! The remnants exploded harmlessly in the sky, sending fire raining down like hellfire meteors.

From the smoke, a Marine stepped into view—tall and sinewy, his face ghastly and skeletal, skin stretched tightly over bone. His jaw jutted out and one front tooth was missing, giving him an unsettling snarl. He wore a ragged Marine coat, wind snapping at the white cloth behind him.

In his hands, a massive sword shimmered with barely contained power. Its decorated edge bore the names of pirate ships it had destroyed.

Marine Captain "Ship Cutter" T-Bone.

"You fucking demon," T-Bone growled, eyes burning with fury as he stared across the street at the man in white. "Icura Sylvester… butcher of Bleachport. Monster of Midnight Bay."

Icura turned his masked head slightly, as if tilting in curiosity. "Ahh~ a guest? No—a challenger!" he said, bouncing another white ball in his palm like a child with a toy. "And what's your name, skull-face?"

T-Bone shifted into stance, sword raised behind him, muscles coiled with killing intent.

"I'm the one who's going to end this massacre."

Then—

"Soru!"

He vanished.

Wind exploded beneath his feet as T-Bone appeared instantly in front of Icura, sword lifted high in both hands, eyes wide and furious.

"Funekiri! (Ship Cutter!)"

He brought the glowing blade down like divine judgment—light pouring off it in waves, the edge crackling with raw power. The pressure split the earth beneath his feet and blew back the flames behind him.

But Icura only chuckled.

"Estallido! (Pop.)"

His sleeves flared unnaturally wide, and dozens of glowing orbs burst forth from his body like spores from a twisted plant. They hovered in the air for a fraction of a second—then erupted all at once in a blinding cascade of fire.

KA-THOOOOOM!

The explosion detonated the entire street.

A massive wave of fire and shockwave tore outward in every direction, lifting cobblestone and bodies into the air like leaves in a storm. For a moment, it seemed the entire district had ceased to exist.

Silence.

Then—T-Bone burst forth from the cloud of flame, his coat scorched, his arms bleeding, his sword dragging through the molten ground. His expression was wild, teeth bared in defiance, he slashed his sword , spending ripples of wind around him like cooling the heatwaves.

"You'll have to do better than that, you sick bastard!" he bellowed, charging again.

Icura's eyes narrowed slightly behind the mask. "Ohh, very nice. Very nice indeed."

He moved his hands—and the entire street exploded into motion.

White spheres launched from his body in all directions like an infinite swarm. They moved intelligently—bouncing off walls, skipping off debris, arcing through the air like homing missiles.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

T-Bone spun his blade, carving an arc of wind, slashing dozens mid-air, detonating them away from the last surviving civilians still crawling for cover.

The sheer number was overwhelming.

His boots skidded on melted stone. Flames clung to his coat like leeches. His vision blurred. Too many.

But still—he did not retreat.

~Civilians' View~

From the smoking rubble, a small group of survivors peeked out through cracks in the stone. A mother held her son tightly, whispering prayers through bloodied lips. An old man held a broken musket, trembling.

They saw T-Bone, burning, slashing, still standing.

And they saw the man in white, calmly walking forward through the fire, laughing as if nothing in the world mattered but the fight.

"Why won't you die already?" T-Bone panted, dragging himself upright.

Icura tilted his head.

"Because this world needs monsters like me. Without monsters… where would all the heroes come from?" He launched another volley. "And let's face it—this story doesn't end with you winning."

T-Bone screamed and charged, sword swinging with every last ounce of strength. He slashed the orbs aside, tore through the volley, and brought his sword down once more for a killing blow.

"FOR JUSTICE!"

"Estallido: Cielo Blanco."

A final orb formed in Icura's hand—bigger, hotter, denser. He tossed it upward—and it burst midair into a rain of miniature fireballs that fell like meteors upon the battlefield.

T-Bone was swallowed in the storm.

Flames erupted around him, fire washing over the area like the breath of a dragon. The ground broke. Structures melted. Even the air screamed.

When the light faded—

Only one figure stood.

Icura Sylvester.

Still perfectly dressed, still laughing.

~Capsule House – Edge of Broil Town~

The wind whispered through the tall grass like the hush of an ancient forest.

Kazuki sat cross-legged at the threshold of his capsule house, facing the open wilderness that framed Broil Town's outskirts. The late afternoon sun bathed the land in gold, dappling shadows across his face. His eyes were closed, body still, as the wind stirred strands of his dark hair.

Around him, the air shifted.

Leaves danced in slow spirals—some caught in an unseen current that flowed not from nature, but from within him.

He was meditating. Listening. Feeling.

A breath in. A breath out.

His chest rose gently, as if in rhythm with the beating of the earth.

"Ki," he thought, "Life itself given motion."

Not just energy. Not just power. But the subtle thread that connected every living thing—trees, birds, water, even the tiniest insects buzzing nearby. It was everywhere, and yet impossible to touch unless you stilled everything else. Kazuki had begun to understand that it wasn't about dominance—it was about communion.

"Okay," he murmured quietly to himself. "Let's focus on Kiai today."

He straightened his spine and let his awareness drift outward like a net cast into the sea. A ripple of warm wind stirred the grass in front of him. That wasn't nature.

That was him.

He slowly exhaled, visualizing the Ki moving through his body—not as pressure or heat, but as presence. Like fog wrapping around a mountaintop, thin and persistent. It coated his skin, hummed in his veins, and filled his lungs like warm vapor.

It didn't burn like a Ki blast. It flowed—gentle, patient.

Suddenly, his hand raised with slow purpose.

With a focused inhale, Kazuki extended his fingers toward a patch of trees about fifty feet away, and—

"HAA!"

A sharp breath. A burst of intent.

The air cracked as a cyclone of wind erupted from his palm, wide and spiraling. The leaves tore off the branches. The tall trees bent and groaned, some of their tops snapping like twigs. Dust rose, wild and violent, before the force settled into calm again.

Kazuki's hair fluttered, his eyes wide in awe.

He gave a low whistle, surveying the damage—an entire corridor of trees pushed back by invisible hands.

"That's… a lot more raw force than last time," he muttered, lips curling into a smirk.

But the thrill faded quickly. His breath was heavy. His shirt clung to his back with sweat.

He shook his arms out and muttered, "Alright… now let's try solidifying it."

Kazuki stood, feet shoulder-width apart. He raised his arms slowly, like he was embracing something unseen.

A tingling sensation crept across his skin—Ki, pulled upward, shaped by intent. The warmth grew denser, as though the air had become viscous, syrup-thick with power.

Sweat began rolling down his temples. His brow furrowed.

And then—

FWOMMM.

A translucent barrier of white Ki snapped into place around his body, a shimmering dome that flickered like moonlight reflected on water. It was beautiful. Ethereal. But Kazuki could feel it draining him.

He fell to one knee, holding the barrier in place.

"Ki is a river," he thought through gritted teeth. "But to shape the river… to hold it still… is like freezing a wave mid-crash."

The strain wasn't just physical. His mind felt stretched. Like the more he controlled, the more aware he had to be—of his breath, his pulse, the flow of thought.

A flicker of doubt nearly shattered the barrier.

He exhaled deeply, let it fade on his own terms. As the shield vanished, he slumped forward, hands on his knees.

"The problem isn't just energy…" he realized. "It's return. When I release Ki… I don't get it all back."

That truth stung.

Every time he sent Ki outward—whether a blast, shield, or Kiai—it didn't return to him in full. Only half. The rest seemed to evaporate, lost to the air. That inefficiency was the true enemy—not a lack of power, but waste.

"So the only way to grow… is to refine."

"To waste less. To shape more."

"To master control—not just release."

Kazuki rose again, fists clenched, breath steadying. He cupped his hands together, forming a Ki blast. Immediately, heat surged into his palms. It was like holding a piece of the sun.

It pulsed.

And with every passing second, his stamina drained.

"Fucking just making this is draining," he muttered, voice low, arms shaking.

Then—his focus slipped.

The blast wobbled, grew erratic. He winced. He couldn't reabsorb it—it was too unstable. Too much output. He had no choice.

"Shit!"

He hurled the blast straight into the sky—where it exploded like a miniature sun.

BOOOOM!

The shockwave shook the trees. Birds fled in flocks, scattering into the clouds. Kazuki collapsed to the grass, laughing between gasps.

"Well… that could've vaporized the house," he muttered, chest rising and falling.

He lay there for a moment, gazing up at the vast sky, feeling the absence of Ki within himself—his body dull and heavy, as if some vital part of him had left.

But he also felt something else.

Possibility. Endless potential.

The wonder of Ki wasn't just in the power—it was in the pursuit.

Every breath, every movement, every thought—it all mattered. There was a discipline here far deeper than brute strength. A quiet, sacred craft that demanded his whole self.

And he loved it.

With a groan, Kazuki sat up and stretched his sore shoulders.

"Oof. Alright… time to shower, then eat enough to kill a cow."

He stood, wobbling slightly. But a grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

He'd made progress.

But far off—on the horizon—a silent storm gathered. Clouds, black and churning, crept slowly toward Broil Town.

Something terrible was coming.

~Sea of West Blue – Hours Before Dawn~

The wind was quiet—eerily so. The sea shimmered like glass, the stillness of it unnatural.

Aboard Marine Observation Vessel #14, a pair of young Marines stood watch. The elder, a new sergeant, tried to mask the tension building in his gut. The younger, barely out of training, yawned with a lazy smile.

"Bro, this is so boring," the younger groaned, leaning against the rail. "Those weak mafiosos wouldn't dare mess with us."

A swift SMACK echoed across the deck as his brother cuffed him behind the head, sending his Marine cap flying.

"Idiot! Stand straight! If you get hurt out here, mom's gonna skin me alive," the older growled, catching the cap mid-air and forcing it back on his brother's head. "We're Marines. We're justice. We don't get lazy."

"But there hasn't been a single pirate sighting or mafia hit in weeks… Just empty blue. C'mon, you think someone's really gonna—"

"MAFIAAAAA!!!"

A scream shattered the silence like a gunshot.

Dozens of Marines rushed to the railings, peering through spyglasses.

Out on the horizon, like a shadow rising from the depths—hundreds of ships emerged.

Their dark sails bore the infamous crests of the Five Great Mafia Families of West Blue. Some were galleons, others heavily modified pirate ships, reinforced with steel plating and gunports. Each was packed with soldiers in tailored suits, armored cars welded to decks, and weapons crates stacked like mountains.

It wasn't just a fleet—it was a declaration.

"This… this can't be…" the sergeant whispered, his knees weak. "Are they—all—here?"

Panic spread like wildfire.

"Sound the alarm! Send word to Branch 80! NOW!"

~At Sea – On Neutral Waters Between the Five Families~

The central conference ship floated like a fortress carved from black ironwood, its deck cleared and tables arranged beneath a massive canopy. Five ships from five families had broken off from their armadas to anchor around the floating vessel.

Tradition held: If the Five Mafia Families gathered, no blood was spilled. The Treaty of West Blue—a pact forged in fire and betrayal fifteen years ago—demanded respect during parley. To raise a hand was to declare war on all.

But today, the air was different.

Today, the sea itself held its breath.

Inside the conference tent, five figures sat around the thick oak table.

Steam drifted from untouched teacups. Cigars burned slowly in silence. But tension pressed down on the air like a tidal wave ready to crash.

"Why the hell did you call me out here?!"

Roy Bianchi's voice thundered as he slammed his fat fist on the table. His crimson suit strained against his massive gut, his ridiculous toupee askew from rage.

"I was in the middle of brunch!"

[Roy Bianchi – "Gluttonous" | Don of the Bianchi Family | 65,000,000 Bounty]

"Because you eat ten damn meals a day doesn't mean this ain't serious," growled Bege Capone, flicking ash from his cigar as his trench coat fluttered in the wind.

"Still, I agree. Who the hell broke the damn peace?"

[Bege Capone – "Gang" | Don of the Capone Mafia Family | 70,000,000 Bounty]

"I forged that treaty myself," came the harsh voice of Zetri Uzuhana, the oldest man present, his back hunched and fingers trembling, but eyes still sharp like shattered glass.

"If one of you broke it…" he glared around the table, "…I'll take your family tree down with my own hands."

[Zetri Uzuhana – "Old Man" | Don of the Uzuhana Mafia Family | 56,000,000 Bounty]

"Don't talk to me about peace!"

Romeno Moriyate slammed both palms on the table, veins bulging in his neck.

"My people were slaughtered! My daughters friend nearly murdered! My brother's advisor—dead!"

He panted, eyes bloodshot.

"This wasn't no 'accident.' Someone's spitting on my flag!"

[Romeno Moriyate – "The Ugly" | Don of the Moriyate Mafia Family | 55,000,000 Bounty]

And then…

Silence.

The others turned toward the one man who had said nothing until now.

Jio Bino.

He stood slowly, his white cane tapping once on the polished floor. His shaggy black-and-white hair blew in the wind, but his gaze—calm, hollow, calculating—held all of them hostage.

He tapped the cane again.

Then a third time.

"I," he said at last, voice grave, "am here to declare war."

[Jio Bino – "The Lucky" | Boss of the Yoroki Family | 10,000,000 Berry Bounty]

"I see through your ramblings, the lies, deceit!"

His cane hit the floor with a final crack.

"My son is dead. Assassinated by cowards."

"My allies no longer fear us."

"The Marines treat us like roaches underfoot."

"And now my people are dying in their homes… children butchered in their beds ?"

"The line is crossed."

The wind stopped. Even the waves below seemed to hesitate.

Capone narrowed his eyes. "You sure about this, Jio? A war between us now will tear the West Blue apart."

Jio didn't blink. "Then let it be torn."

Uzuhana whispered, "The balance… you'll destroy everything we built."

Jio slowly walked toward the edge of the deck, gazing at the horizon.

"Peace made us fat."

"Peace made us weak."

"But fire… fire will remind the world who the Yoroki are."

He turned his back to the table.

"If you're with me… prepare your soldiers."

"If you're not… prepare your coffins."

Unseen by the group, one of the Dons secretly smirked.

————————————————————

To be continued…