Joyboy flew backward like a cannonball. He flew for hundreds of meters a tiny powerless figure against the vast broken sky.
Finally, he crashed into the far side of the island, hitting the ground with a sickening thud that sent a tremor through the entire landmass.
He lay still in a newly formed hole, smoke rising from his body. The joyful light of his Nika form flickered, then died out completely.
His hair turned back to black. The clouds around his body vanished.
He was just a man again, lying broken and bleeding in the dirt. His body felt like it was on fire from the inside.
The Solar Punch had been more than just a powerful blow. it had been a strike aimed at his very life force. He could feel his internal organs screaming in protest, torn by the sheer force of Imu's Haki infused attack.
It felt like his insides had been turned into a broken, bleeding mess.
Imu stood tall on the other side of the island, his glowing fist still covered in haki. He looked at the distant hole where his friend, his rival, and his arch nemesis had fallen.
For the first time in their long impossible battle, one of them had landed a clean devastating hit.
The pain was real. And the silence that followed was heavy with the feeling of defeat.
Imu began to walk slowly towards that hole, his giant form casting a long dark shadow. The battle was won. All he had to do now was finish it.
But then, he heard a sound.
It was faint at first then a soft rhythmic beat like a distant drum.
Dum... Dum... Dum...
Imu stopped walking. His red eyes narrowed. "This annoying sound again?"
Dum-dum... Dum-dum... Dum-dum...
The beating got faster, more powerful. It wasn't coming from the island. It was coming from the that hole. It was the sound of a heart, a heart that should have been broken and silent now beating with a strange, joyful rhythm.
It was the sound of The Drums of Liberation.
A faint white steam began to rise from Joyboy's body.
His wounds, which should have been fatal, began to close. His broken bones began to mend. The shattered organs inside him began to heal themselves, stitched back together by the sheer unstoppable power of his will to be free.
Joy Boy's eyes suddenly opened. They were glowing with that golden, joyful light once more. His hair erupted into of white flames, and the scarf of clouds reappeared around his neck.
The Sun God had returned.
He pushed himself up, his body completely healed. The pain was gone. The damage was gone.
All that remained was a wide, determined smile.
"Shishishi....Wow, Imu," Joyboy said, his voice a little weak but full of that familiar and cheerful energy. "That one really hurt. You are pretty strong."
Imu stared, his cold confidence shaken for the first time.
It was impossible. No one could survive a punch like that. No one could heal from such damage so quickly.
What was this power?
Joyboy didn't give him time to think. He knew he had one chance. He had to end this now, with one final powerful and unbelievable attack.
He planted his feet on the ground and looked at Imu, who was still hundreds of meters away. He began to gather all his strength, all the light, all the joy, all the freedom in his arms.
His fists began to grow.
And grow. And grow. And grow.
They grew bigger than a house, bigger than a castle, bigger than a mountain. They kept growing, pushing through the clouds, growing so massive they blotted out the broken sky. They grew until each of his two fists was a colossal, island-sized meteor of pure, rubbery power, each one ten kilometers wide.
Then, the final layer of power was added.
The fists were suddenly coated in a layer of purple Armament Haki. And then, crackling streaks of black and red lightning the undeniable sign of a the color of the supreme king wrapped around both giant fists.
He was using the same technique Imu had used against him, but on a scale so massive so ridiculously huge, it defied all logic.
Imu looked up at the two giant, Haki-coated fists that now filled the entire sky above him. He saw the future. He saw a future where he tried to block, but the power was too immense. He saw a future of absolute crushing and inescapable pain.
There was no future where he could win this exchange.
Joyboy pulled the two mountain-sized fists back.
"This is my freedom...Imu" he roared, his voice booming across the world. "And you can't erase it."
"SUN....GATLINGGGGGG"
He threw both fists forward. It wasn't just a punch.
It was two islands of pure Haki infused power, raining down from the heavens like a judgment of joy.
The world went white for Imu.
_____________________________________
The Present Day.
Pangaea Castle, Mary Geoise, Red Line
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH"
Imu's eyes opened.
He sat upright on his luxurious, silk sheet covered bed.
He was gasping for air, his heart pounding like the Drums of Liberation.
A cold sweat covered his entire body. His red eyes darted around the quiet peaceful room, but he wasn't seeing the fine furniture or the golden decorations.
He was seeing a giant glowing fist the size of a island falling from the sky.
He clutched his stomach, where the ghost of a terrible ancient pain still feels like a yesterday.
"Joyboy…" he whispered, his voice a raw terrified rasp.
He looked down at his own hands. They were the long pale fingers of the body he now inhabited. They were not the giant shadowy hands from his dream.
It was a nightmare.
Just a nightmare.
A memory.
He took a long shaky breath, trying to calm the storm in his mind.
He had been sleeping. How long had he been sleeping?
He felt a deep exhaustion, a weariness that went beyond the body and settled deep in his soul.
It had been four days.
Four days since he had teleported back from the Cipher Pol ship.
Four days of being trapped in a deep healing sleep.
The person inside Imu's body, the one who remembered traffic jams and streaming shows felt a chill run down his spine.
That wasn't just a dream. It was a memory, a piece of the original Imu's memory.
'I knew joyboy was powerful...but to this extent' the reincarnated mind thought a new wave of terror washing over him. 'No wonder… no wonder the original Imu has such a deep burning hatred for him.'
The memory of that final overwhelming attack was branded into his very being. The feeling of absolute powerlessness in the face of such joyful chaotic strength.
He was terrified.
He was terrified of a man who had died over 800 years ago. He was terrified of the idea that someone with that same power, that same laugh, that same stupid straw hat was out there right now, sailing the seas and getting stronger every day.
The nightmare was over.
But the reality he had woken up to was in many ways, even more frightening.