Wanokuni, New World
The shores of Onigashima were never quiet—but tonight, they were solemn. A Beast Pirates transport vessel slid toward the jagged, makeshift pier, its hull scraped raw from countless voyages through hostile seas.
The Jolly Roger of the Beasts snapped in the wind—skull grinning, horns curved like a challenge to the heavens themselves. This ship had come from Mogura Port, one of the few arteries through which the outside world still bled into Wano. With the country sealed shut, only Kaido's banners granted passage. Only Kaido's will decided what entered… and who never left. The gangplank thudded against the pier.
"Move it!" a voice barked.
Boots hit wood. One by one, Beast Pirates poured onto the dock, dragging crates and rolling barrels heavy with plunder. Silks dyed in foreign hues, folded carelessly. Steel ingots stamped with marks from distant forges. Spices sealed in waxed jars—scents sharp and exotic, utterly alien to Wano's closed air. Wealth taken from the world beyond the walls, all destined to feed the machinery of tyranny.
Then came the cages. Iron bars scraped against the deck as they were hauled forward, their contents rattling with every jolt. Inside, figures huddled together—men and women from distant seas, pirates who had lost, merchants who had resisted, travelers unlucky enough to cross the wrong route. Their eyes were hollow, their wrists raw from shackles. These were not prisoners in Kaido's eyes.
They were labor. They were currency. They were expendable.
Soon, they would vanish into mines, into factories, into the estates of Wano's corrupted nobles—worked until their backs broke or their spirits did. No one screamed. Most had learned it was useless. But among the three dozen captives, one cage stood apart. It was larger. Reinforced. Ringed with thick chains as if the thing inside were expected to fight the world itself.
Within it sat a young fish-man. Barely twelve. He was slumped against the bars, knees drawn close to his chest, damp skin catching the cold torchlight in muted shades of blue-gray. His gills fluttered weakly at his neck with each breath, still not fully accustomed to the dry air. Small, budding horns curved back from his temples—unpolished, not yet the fearsome symbols they would one day become. His sharp teeth were clenched, not in rage, but in stubborn silence.
This was Jack. Not yet the calamity. Not yet the terror whispered across seas. Just a boy who had survived when he should not have. He had escaped the annihilation of Fish-Man Island by chance—or curse—drifting alone in the endless blue, clinging to debris, to hope, to nothing at all. He had fled from death, from slaughter, from a world that had decided his people were expendable. Only to be caught anyway.
Beast Pirates had dragged him from the sea like a prize, astonished by his endurance, amused by his defiance. Even now, despite the chains, despite the exhaustion etched into his young frame, his eyes burned. Not with tears. With hatred.
He watched the dock with a cold, unblinking stare as Onigashima loomed above—its massive skull-shaped silhouette carved against the night sky, torches burning like malevolent eyes. The island felt alive, hungry. As if it already knew him.
A pirate scoffed, kicking the cage. "Tough little bastard," he muttered. "Kaido-sama will like this one."
Jack said nothing. His fingers tightened around the bars until his knuckles paled. The sea was gone. The sky felt too heavy. The world had closed in again. But somewhere deep inside that small, broken body, something refused to die. The ship creaked as the last cage was unloaded.
"Be wary of that one—" one of the Beast Pirates snarled, his voice thick with resentment. "He took down quite a few of us before we finally subdued him."
Several others grunted in agreement as they hauled the reinforced cage down the gangplank. Fresh bandages, broken tusks, and bloodstains told the story better than words ever could. If not for orders from above—if not for the belief that the young fish-man's monstrous strength would make him invaluable in the mines—they would have slit his throat the moment he stopped moving.
The cage swayed as it was lowered. Too fast.
"Careful, you idiots—!"
The ropes jerked. The angle shifted. For a heartbeat, everything hung in the air. Then the cage slipped. It crashed down onto the stone pier with a thunderous BOOM, iron screaming as it struck rock. Sparks flew. The impact shattered the silence of Onigashima's shore—and with it, one corner of the cage snapped inward, metal buckling like brittle bone.
That was all it took. Inside, Jack moved. Not with hesitation. Not with fear. With decision. I won't die as a slave.
Even with his feet still bound in chains, Jack tore forward, gripping a bent iron bar with both hands. Muscles far too powerful for a twelve-year-old body screamed as he ripped it free, jagged and blood-slick from the impact.
The nearest Beast Pirate barely had time to widen his eyes. Jack lunged. The broken bar plunged into the man's abdomen with a wet, choking sound. Blood erupted in a hot spray as Jack yanked the metal back out, the pirate collapsing without a scream—shock stealing his voice before death ever could.
For a split second, the world froze. Then chaos erupted.
"What—?!"
"He broke out—!"
"Kill him!"
Weapons were drawn in a panic—sabers, clubs, guns—but Jack was already moving. A shadow leapt from above, a Beast Pirate launching himself off the ship's deck, scimitar raised high, teeth bared in triumph.
"DIE, YOU LITTLE—!"
Jack didn't look back. He felt him. As if the sea itself whispered the danger into his bones, Jack hoisted the iron bar upward just as the pirate descended. The falling man impaled himself on the jagged metal, momentum driving it straight through his chest.
The scimitar clattered uselessly to the stone. The pirate died instantly. Blood rained down over Jack's shoulders, warm and heavy. The young fish-man stood there, chest heaving, chains still biting into his ankles, eyes burning with feral resolve.
Jack stood alone. Five meters of blood-soaked muscle and chain, hunched beneath a sky that felt too small to contain him. His breath came in ragged, misting huffs, gills flaring violently at his neck as iron bit into his ankles and blood streamed freely down his legs.
The broken cage lay behind him like the husk of a shed skin. Around him—screams, smoke, steel, and the widening circle of Beast Pirates who had finally understood one simple truth: This wasn't a slave. This was a dying monster that refused to kneel.
"Bring him down!" someone roared. They came at him all at once. Jack surged forward instead.
The iron bar in his hands whistled through the air, crushing a man's skull with a wet crack. Bone collapsed like rotten wood. Jack didn't slow—he never slowed. A blade bit into his side, carving deep, but Jack ignored it entirely, stepping into the pain and slamming his shoulder into the attacker's chest. Ribs shattered. The pirate folded, coughing blood before Jack finished him with a downward smash that reduced his head to pulp against the stone pier.
Steel rained down on Jack's back. Axes. Clubs. Spears. He roared—not in pain, but in defiance—and swung blindly, catching one pirate by the leg and tearing him off the ground. The man screamed as Jack used him like a weapon, slamming his body into two others hard enough to break spines. Jack threw what was left aside and charged again, chains dragging furrows into stone behind him.
Blood poured from half a dozen wounds now. Deep cuts. Punctures. One spearhead still jutted from his shoulder. He left it there. A musket fired point-blank. The shot punched into Jack's chest, staggering him back a step. Another followed. And another. His massive frame shuddered as lead tore through flesh meant to withstand the crushing pressure of the deep sea.
Jack laughed. It came out as a broken, choking sound—but it was laughter all the same.
"You want me on my knees?" he snarled, teeth red with blood. "COME AND PUT ME THERE!"
A Beast Pirate charged from the side, blade flashing for Jack's neck. Jack caught him. One hand closed around the man's face. Fingers dug in. The pirate screamed as Jack squeezed, crushing skull and jaw alike before hurling the corpse straight through another charging group, bodies tumbling like broken dolls.
Another spear pierced Jack's thigh, pinning muscle to bone. He tore it out and stabbed the wielder through the throat with it. The pier was slick now. Blood pooled around Jack's feet—his and theirs indistinguishable. Bodies lay broken everywhere, limbs twisted at impossible angles, faces frozen in terror.
But still they came. Because this was Onigashima. And mercy had no place here. A massive club smashed into Jack's ribs with enough force to shatter stone. Something cracked inside him—bone giving way. Jack staggered, coughing blood, vision blurring. For a moment, just a moment, the world tilted.
This is it, a distant voice whispered. This is where you fall.
Jack straightened. "No," he growled.
A second blow struck his spine. Jack roared and turned, grabbing the club mid-swing. Muscles tore as he wrenched it free and slammed it down on its owner's head again and again until nothing recognizable remained. Another blade pierced his back. Then another. Jack dropped to one knee. The Beast Pirates surged forward, howling in triumph.
"NOW!"
"FINISH HIM!"
"BREAK HIS LEGS!"
Jack planted his hand against the stone. His fingers dug in. With a thunderous roar, he pushed himself back up, muscles screaming, blood spraying from reopened wounds. He grabbed the nearest pirate by the waist and bit into his neck, tearing flesh and artery alike with feral brutality before throwing the dying body aside.
"I SAID—" Jack bellowed, standing tall once more, blood pouring freely now, "—I DON'T KNEEL!"
A cannon fired from the ship. The shot slammed into Jack's side, tearing a chunk of flesh away and throwing him backward. He crashed into the pier hard enough to leave a crater. Smoke curled from the wound. Jack lay still for a heartbeat too long.
The Beast Pirates hesitated. Then—slowly—Jack sat up. He rose again, swaying now, every breath a battle. One arm hung uselessly at his side, shattered beyond movement. His vision tunneled. The world pulsed red. Still, he stepped forward. Each footfall left a bloody print behind him.
"I'll die standing," Jack rasped. "I swear it."
They didn't rush him this time. Caution had finally set in. Chains rattled as Jack dragged himself toward them, killing intent radiating from his massive frame like heat. One pirate broke and ran.
Jack hurled his broken iron bar. It punched through the man's back and pinned him to the ship's hull. Jack collapsed to one knee again.
This time, he stayed there longer. The world dimmed. Sounds dulled. The smell of blood—salt and iron—filled his lungs. So this is how it ends, he thought. Not free… but not broken. As darkness crept in, Jack lifted his head one last time, glaring at the monsters surrounding him.
Within the jagged shadows cast by burning torches and the looming cliffs of Onigashima, several figures stood apart from the chaos, their presence heavy enough to bend the air around them. They watched in silence as the massive, blood-drenched form of the young fishman swayed on the pier—still upright, still defiant, even as life bled out of him with every ragged breath.
A low, rumbling chuckle broke the silence.
"Well now…" Kaido's voice rolled out like distant thunder, thick with amusement and something far more dangerous. His massive frame loomed in the darkness, sake gourd resting lazily on his shoulder, eyes gleaming with feral interest. "What do you think, Alber?"
King stood beside him, tall and motionless, black wings folded tightly behind his back. His masked gaze never left Jack—not the bodies strewn around him, not the terrified Beast Pirates keeping their distance, but the boy himself. The way he still stood. The way his glare burned even as his body failed.
"He has heart, Kaido-sama," King replied evenly. His tone was calm, but there was certainty in it. "More than most grown men. He fought without regard for his own life—only to kill his enemies. That kind of hatred doesn't fade. It sharpens."
King's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Jack's torn flesh, the shattered arm, the blood pooling at his feet.
"If he truly survived the annihilation of Fish-Man Island," King continued, "then that rage will become his fuel. Properly groomed, the boy will grow. He will hate the world enough to conquer it."
A sharp, metallic laugh cut through the air.
"Tch—what a romantic way to put it." Queen leaned forward from where he lounged against a stack of crates, arms crossed over his massive chest, goggles glinting in the firelight. His grin was wide and cruel, eyes dissecting Jack like a specimen already laid out on a table. "Doesn't change the facts, though." Queen gestured lazily toward the pier.
"Those wounds are fatal. Fishman or not, no one walks away from that kind of blood loss. Punctured organs, shattered bones, internal hemorrhaging…" He clicked his tongue mockingly. "Two minutes. Five if he's stubborn enough to refuse death. And judging by that glare—yeah, he's the stubborn type."
The mocking amusement lingered in Queen's voice, but it rang hollow. Because Kaido was no longer smiling.
The Yonko's eyes remained locked on Jack, unblinking. He didn't look at the corpses. He didn't look at the trembling pirates. He saw only the boy who refused to fall—the boy who had carved his defiance into the shores of Onigashima with blood and bone.
"…A shame?" Kaido muttered. His smile returned—but it was different now. Wider. Sharper. Dangerous. "No," he said softly. "That would be a waste."
The ground seemed to tremble as Kaido stepped forward, his massive form emerging from the shadows and into the firelight. Each step was slow, deliberate, the sound of his boots against stone echoing like a drumbeat heralding doom. Conversations died. Weapons lowered. Every Beast Pirate instinctively shrank back, fear knotting in their chests.
Kaido walked past them all. Toward the dying fishman. Jack's vision swam, the world reduced to flickering shapes and pain. But even through the haze, he felt it—the crushing pressure, the overwhelming presence that made the air feel thick and suffocating. A shadow fell over him.
Jack forced his head up, blood dripping from his chin, tusk-like teeth bared in a silent snarl. Another enemy. Another monster. Even now, his grip tightened around the broken iron bar. Kaido stopped a few steps away, towering over the boy like a living calamity. He looked down at Jack with naked curiosity, eyes gleaming with approval.
"You've got guts, kid," Kaido said, voice calm, almost gentle in contrast to the carnage around them. "Most men beg. You chose to fight."
Kaido leaned forward slightly, sake gourd shifting on his shoulder.
"How about it?" he asked, grin widening. "You wanna die here… or live long enough to drown this world in your hatred?"
The wind howled across the pier, carrying the scent of blood and salt. And for the first time since the massacre that stole everything from him, fate itself seemed to pause—waiting for Jack's answer.
For a fleeting moment, Jack considered defiance. His fingers tightened around the jagged iron bar, muscles screaming in protest as blood ran freely down his arms and pooled beneath his feet. One last swing. One final act of rebellion. He knew how it would end—crushed bones, darkness, oblivion. Dying on his feet, weapon raised, teeth bared at the monster before him.
Then the screams came. Not from the pier. From his memory. The dying cries of Fish-Man Island—homes collapsing, water choked with blood, voices of kin and family swallowed by chaos and fire. Children. Warriors. Elders. All screaming. All begging. All dying while the world watched… or worse, turned away.
Jack's breath hitched. Maybe—just maybe—if he followed this monster… Maybe if he became a monster himself… He could have his revenge.
His knees trembled, not in fear, but from the weight of the decision pressing down on his shattered body. Slowly, painfully, Jack lifted his gaze to Kaido. Blood ran into his eyes, but the fire within them refused to go out.
"Will I get to fight the World Government…" Jack rasped, each word scraping his throat raw, "…if I follow you?"
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then Kaido's eyes lit up. The glow was feral. Exultant. He straightened to his full height, threw his head back, and laughed—a thunderous, earth-shaking roar that split the night itself.
"WORORORORORO!"
The sky trembled as Kaido's Haoshoku Haki erupted without restraint, an overwhelming wave of dominance that crushed the weaker wills around him. Beast Pirates collapsed to their knees, some retching, others trembling, unable to even look at their captain. The sea churned violently at the edge of the pier as if responding to his laughter.
"That's the right question, brat!" Kaido bellowed, grinning down at Jack like a king who had found a worthy beast. "Follow me—and you'll have all the war you could ever want!"
King didn't waste a second. Understanding Kaido's intent instantly, he stepped forward, his towering figure casting a long shadow over Jack's broken body. He knelt, eyes scanning the damage with cold precision. Torn muscle. Crushed ribs. Organs failing. Even with a fishman's resilience, death was minutes away.
"Conventional treatment won't save him," King said flatly. He rose and turned toward Queen, extending his hand without hesitation. "Pass me the Devil Fruit."
Queen froze.
"What?" He blinked, then scowled, incredulity and irritation flashing across his face. "Oi—are you serious, King? That's not some junk SMILE! That's a real Ancient Zoan! Do you know how hard it was to get that thing?!"
Queen gestured wildly, voice rising. "That fruit was for research! Caesar and I need it if we're ever going to crack artificial Ancient Zoans! You can't just—"
King's gaze sharpened. The air around him seemed to chill as his eyes locked onto Queen, the unspoken threat clear. Dare me to ask again. Before Queen could continue, a massive presence bore down on him.
"Queen." Kaido's voice was calm. Deadly. "Hand Alber the devil fruit."
Queen swallowed. "But… Kaido-sama—"
Kaido's eyes shifted to him. That was all it took. Queen's protests died instantly. Gritting his teeth, he reached into the reinforced satchel slung at his side and pulled out a small wooden chest, its surface etched with sealing marks. He opened it just long enough to reveal the unmistakable, swirling patterns of a Devil Fruit.
With a sharp click of his tongue, Queen tossed it toward King. King caught it effortlessly.
"Tch," Queen muttered, loud enough for Kaido to hear. "Don't blame me later when the research hits a dead end."
Kaido didn't even glance his way. King turned back to Jack, holding the fruit out in his palm. Its surface gleamed dully in the firelight, ancient and ominous.
"Eat," King commanded, voice firm and absolute. "Shed your old identity. Rise as a Beast Pirate—loyal only to Kaido-sama."
Jack stared at the fruit. He knew what it meant. As a fishman, taking a Devil Fruit was taboo—an unforgivable act. To lose the sea was to lose part of oneself. To be severed forever from the water that defined his race. But what had the sea given him? Only corpses. Only screams. Only loss.
Jack bared his teeth and, without hesitation, leaned forward. With the last of his strength, he tore a massive chunk from the fruit and bit down. The taste was vile—bitter, rotten, revolting—but he swallowed it anyway. This was his choice. This was his rebirth. On the blood-soaked shores of Onigashima, a new calamity took its first breath.