Ezra D. Vale was quite satisfied with his latest creation.
He had discovered long ago that his spiritual pressure came with a natural "burning buff" an innate scorching effect that made his attacks devastatingly unique. But Ezra was never the kind of man who liked sticking to the old ways, even if those ways came from a legend like the Captain-Commander himself.
Instead, he had been developing his own signature techniques, experimenting with new ideas every chance he got.
And today's ability? Another test of his creativity.
Now, sure some people might complain that this particular move looked awfully familiar. They might say, "Wait, isn't that basically the Flame Alchemist's technique from that other story? How's that original?"
To which Ezra would reply with a lazy grin:
"Come on, what's a little cultural borrowing between geniuses? It's not stealing it's inspiration."
After taking care of Kars and his entire crew, Ezra spent the rest of the day sweeping through Loguetown, making sure there were no pirates left alive. Once the area was completely purged, he used Shunpo to flash-step back onto his warship.
"Vice Admiral Ezra!" one of his subordinates saluted sharply.
Ezra gave a short nod. "Loguetown is clean. Notify the stationed Marines and tell them to maintain order."
"Yes, sir!"
From there, Ezra's warship set sail immediately, moving from island to island like a silent storm.
Everywhere he went, pirates vanished no survivors, no second chances.
Ezra never left anyone alive. He didn't see the point. Mercy wasn't part of his vocabulary when it came to scum who preyed on the weak.
As days passed, his reputation grew darker, heavier, more terrifying. His name alone made pirates tremble across all four seas.
The whispers began spreading like wildfire songs of dread that echoed in taverns and slums alike:
"If you ever cross paths with a lazy Marine,
Don't struggle. Don't resist.
Your life is no longer your own
Your every plea will fall on deaf ears,
Your every scream will be swallowed by the wind.
Just close your eyes, and let it all drift away…"
Of course, between you and me, even Ezra thought the song was awful.
"Who writes this trash?" he muttered once, half amused, half annoyed.
Meanwhile, back at Marine Headquarters, Fleet Admiral Sengoku sat at his desk, a rare smile tugging at his lips as he read through the latest report.
Across from him, Garp was crunching on senbei crackers, giving him a suspicious look.
"What's with that goofy grin, Sengoku? You look like you're in love or something."
Sengoku cleared his throat. "Garp, have you been following Ezra's progress lately?"
Garp raised a brow, mid-crunch. "Huh? That brat again? What'd he do this time? Don't tell me he wrecked another island?"
Sengoku handed him the report. "See for yourself."
Garp flipped through the pages quickly. His grin grew wider with every line.
"BAHAHAHA! Now that's my kind of Marine! This kid's got guts! In just half a month, he's wiped the East Blue clean of pirates!"
Sengoku chuckled. "Indeed. His efficiency is beyond expectation."
Garp slapped the report shut. "Well then, since he's already cleaned up the East Blue, maybe it's time for us to move too, eh? The deadline's coming up fast."
Sengoku nodded gravely. "Yes. It's time."
While preparations at Marineford went into full swing, Ezra had already arrived at his next destination an island every pirate fanatic knew by heart.
Windmill Village.
Standing at the ship's bow, the salty breeze brushing through his hair, Ezra gazed toward the familiar silhouette of the small, peaceful town.
"Vice Admiral Ezra," said Tina, who stood beside him with a puzzled expression, "why did we have to come here of all places?"
Ezra smiled faintly. "This is Garp's hometown. You really don't want to see where the old man grew up?"
At that, Tina's eyes sparkled with interest. "The hometown of the legendary Marine Hero, Monkey D. Garp? …All right, fine, I'm in!"
Their warship soon docked near the pier, drawing curious gazes from the locals.
An elderly man wearing a heart-patterned shirt walked up to greet them, his face beaming with warmth.
"Ah, Marines! Welcome, welcome! I'm the village chief, Woop Slap."
Ezra bowed slightly in greeting. "A pleasure to meet you, Chief Slap."
The old man tilted his head, studying him curiously. "So, what brings a Vice Admiral and his fleet to our quiet little village?"
Ezra chuckled. "Nothing to worry about, Chief. Garp spoke fondly of Windmill Village's famous wine. I thought I'd drop by and see if it lives up to the legend."
At the mention of Garp's name, Woop Slap's eyes lit up. His demeanor instantly relaxed.
"Hah! So you're friends with that rascal Garp! Well, you're in luck. He wasn't lying our wine is the pride of the East Blue! Come, come, I'll show you the tavern myself!"
Ezra smiled. "Then I'll gladly take you up on that offer."
The group followed the cheerful chief into the heart of the village, eventually stopping before a cozy little tavern the only one in town.
As the door swung open, a young woman with long, moss-green hair looked up from behind the counter.
"Oh! Chief, who are these people?" she asked with a soft, melodic voice.
Woop Slap chuckled. "These are Marines friends of Garp. This fine young man here is…"
He turned to Ezra, suddenly realizing he hadn't caught the name.
Ezra stepped forward, flashing a charming smile. "Ezra D. Vale. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…"
The woman blushed faintly as she took his hand. "I'm Makino. Welcome to Windmill Village, Vice Admiral."
Her voice was gentle, and her grip soft as silk.
"I'll, um go pour some drinks for you!" she said quickly, turning to the counter to hide her flushed cheeks.
Watching her retreat, Tina sighed dramatically beside him.
"Men," she muttered, folding her arms. "Such hopeless flirts. Don't think I won't report this to Vice Admiral Gion later."
Ezra stared blankly at her for a moment. "…Seriously?"
Then he grinned. "You're not wrong, but… next time, I'd still do it again."
Tina rolled her eyes, muttering something about "typical men" as she followed him inside.
And for the first time in weeks, amid the soft windmills and warm laughter of the village, Ezra allowed himself to relax just a little.
For now, the seas were quiet. But in the distance, the storm was already brewing.
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