The stars wheeled silently over the sea, their reflections flickering on the black water as though the heavens themselves had been shattered and scattered into the waves. A hired cutter sliced across the surface, its sails straining against the night wind.
Jin Akasa stood at the prow, hair whipping against his face, eyes violet and unblinking as he stared toward the horizon. His clothes, though recently washed, still smelled faintly of iron. Half a month of slaughter clung to him like a second skin.
He whispered to himself, "It's time to return."
For fifteen days he had carved his way across islands and coastlines—pirate dens, mountain bandits, even mercenary companies who acted little better than raiders. Anyone whose crimes painted their hands black, Jin put down without mercy. Each death was another whetstone against his blade, another heartbeat of experience to hone the fusion of his killing aura with the wild pulse of Conqueror's Haki.
The memories of that last fight—the rabbit general with his terrifying kicks—still echoed in his bones. Jin had come away sharper, but also unsettled. The East Blue had been called "the weakest sea," but if generals like that existed in backwater kingdoms, what terrors would rise in the Grand Line?
His lips curved.
"Which means I'll need bigger prey. The Inverse-Scale Horned Serpent will do."
Behind him, the hired captain crept out from the cabin. The man's face was gaunt, skin pulled tight from sleepless nights. For half a month, he had watched Jin paint seas red. He had peeked once, only once, at Jin's work on the island of bones. He had not slept well since.
"Lord Jin," he said carefully, his voice barely louder than the waves, "Malt Town is two hours away. Do you wish me to continue your service beyond this journey… or should we part ways?"
Jin didn't turn. He could hear the tremor in the man's throat, see the memory of terror etched in the whites of his eyes. "No. You've done well. You may go."
Relief broke across the man's features. He bowed so low his forehead almost touched the deck. "Then I shall prepare to dock, my lord."
Jin flicked his hand dismissively. His gaze stayed fixed on the distant smudge of land. His voice, however, softened just a touch, a warmth creeping into the steel.
"Three women wait for me. They'll be cursing my name by now… but I'll turn their curses into sighs soon enough."
He laughed quietly, a predator's chuckle laced with something human.
________________________________________
Far away, in Marineford…
"DAMN HIM!"
A report crumpled in Sengoku's fist, the ink smearing across his palm. His desk rattled as he slammed it down.
"The bastard butchered a royal general. A whole regiment, wiped out in one night. Jin Akasa has gone too far!"
Around him, junior officers flinched. They had seen their Fleet Admiral angry before, but the veins bulging at his temple now looked ready to burst.
Half a month of investigation had pieced together fragments—slaughtered garrisons, vanished pirate clans, survivors babbling about a violet-eyed devil. There was no "proof," but Sengoku didn't need proof. He knew.
Only Jin could have done it.
A Rear Admiral spoke cautiously, "But, sir… why is this on us? Shouldn't such matters be handled by the World Government directly?"
Sengoku's laugh was bitter. "Because the Celestial Dragons want someone else to bear the shame."
He remembered the letter, stamped with the seal of the Five Elders. A certain Tenryuubito—Charlemaco Saint—had died days after returning from East Blue. The cause? Supposedly illness, but the nobles had laid it at the Navy's feet. Stress from lack of proper protection. Anxiety. Poor digestion. Any excuse to shift blame.
Sengoku pinched the bridge of his nose. "The world grows heavier by the day. And they expect us to carry it alone."
He stood suddenly, cloak billowing. "Enough. I'm going to the Commander-in-Chief."
________________________________________
Jin knew nothing of Sengoku's fury, nor did he care.
Malt Town appeared on the horizon—lanterns glowing along the dock like fireflies. As the cutter slid into harbor, Jin gathered his cloak, his steps light as smoke.
He was already smiling.
________________________________________
Inside the rented villa, warmth filled the air. Candles flickered. The scent of cooking herbs drifted from the kitchen. For the first time in weeks, Jin felt his chest ease.
"Ki-ki-roo~"
Makino's startled yelp carried through the hall as Jin swept into the room. She stood near the table, a dish in her hands, eyes wide.
Jin didn't give her time to breathe. He crossed the space in two strides, wrapped an arm around her waist, and whispered against her hair, "I missed you so much I thought I'd go mad. Comfort me, Makino. A kiss should heal the wound of half a month's loneliness."
Her cheeks burned scarlet. She twisted, trying to slip free. "You—stop saying such shameless things, Jin!"
But Jin was a mercenary king in more ways than one. He feigned a stumble, spinning her into Kuina's path—then stole a quick kiss on Kuina's cheek instead.
Smack!
The sound echoed, sharp and soft at once.
Kuina froze, face flaming. Jin widened his eyes theatrically. "Kuina! How could you do this? My first kiss—stolen right in front of your sister! How cruel!"
"You—!" Kuina's sword hand twitched, shame and fury battling on her features. "I'll cut you down, Jin Akasa!"
She lunged, but by then Jin had already vaulted over the sofa, laughing like a devil.
From the corner, Tina leaned back with folded arms, lips quirking. "Tsk, tsk. Kuina, you've fallen. Public displays of affection already? My, how the mighty swordswoman has changed."
"Don't mock me!" Kuina's voice cracked with embarrassment.
Makino sighed, though a smile played at her lips. "Ignore him. He ran to his room while you were still sputtering."
Kuina clenched her fists, cheeks red as coals. "Next time, I'll slice him in half."
But the fury in her words couldn't hide the heat that lingered beneath.
________________________________________
Later, when laughter had faded and the villa lay in shadows, the women gathered in the living room. Jin had collapsed onto his bed the moment he'd slipped away, leaving them to their thoughts.
Kuina sharpened her sword in silence, though her lips still pressed thin with leftover fluster.
Tina leaned against the wall, her tone softer now. "He's changed. Half a month, and he carries something heavier in his eyes. Did you notice?"
Makino nodded. "Yes. But he won't tell us yet. He never does, until the moment he decides we need to know."
Kuina stopped her blade, staring at its reflection. "He said tomorrow, we sail for Loguetown. That means… the Inverse-Scale Horned Serpent." Her eyes gleamed, sharp as her steel. "Good. Let him lead us to monsters. I want to test my blade."
"Strong opponents wait on the Grand Line." Tina's smile curved, equal parts excitement and caution. "This is only the beginning."
Makino placed a hand over her heart. "Whatever happens, we trust him. That's all we need."
The three women shared a silence, the kind forged not from words but from bonds already tested in fire.
________________________________________
Back in his room, Jin lay awake. The laughter earlier had soothed him, but the storm inside him had not quieted. He thought of the rabbit general's corpse. Of Sengoku's likely anger. Of a serpent in some forgotten island, scales said to repel blades.
His lips curved as the night pressed close.
"The world sharpens me. Good. Keep sharpening. I'll cut
through everything you put before me."
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