"Sing for me, Boa! Justice never tasted so good!"
Kuzan flipped a piece of sizzling meat over the campfire, humming as smoke rose into the still island air. The massive Titanoboa beside him — a snow-white serpent he'd named Boa — stared at him with deadpan eyes.
"Don't look at me like that," Kuzan said, poking the snake's snout with his tongs. "You love my cooking. Admit it."
Boa blinked once, unimpressed.
Ever since Kuzan had shared his roasted meat with it months ago, the serpent had refused to eat anything else. Hunting wild beasts was fine — but only if Kuzan cooked them. Every time he tried to refuse, Boa's tail would wrap around him until he gave in.
"Fine, fine," he muttered, flipping another slab. "Guess I'm officially your personal chef-slash-punching bag."
The snake hissed softly, almost like a laugh.
Kuzan had been living on this uninhabited island for months now — training, fighting, and occasionally losing very badly. Between the endless beasts and Boa's not-so-gentle "encouragement," his Armament Haki had grown sharper, denser.
He could now coat his limbs in that faint dark sheen Zephyr once described — the mark of hardened resolve.
But Kuzan wasn't satisfied yet.
"C'mon, Boa," he said after finishing their meal. "Let's hit the island's center today. Heard there's a gorilla there the size of a ship mast. Maybe he'll punch me into enlightenment."
Boa hissed approvingly.
The deeper they went, the wilder the jungle grew. Trees loomed like towers, the air thick with the smell of beasts. Then came the rumble — thud, thud, thud — that shook the ground beneath them.
Kuzan grinned. "Sounds like our guy."
A massive gorilla emerged from the foliage, muscles bulging like steel cables. Its eyes glowed with a primal awareness — the unmistakable shine of Armament Haki.
"Alright," Kuzan muttered. "Note to self: do not let him hit you."
He barely finished the thought before a giant fist blurred through the air. Kuzan dodged — barely — as the tree behind him splintered in half.
"Okay, definitely Armament Haki. Fantastic."
The gorilla roared, charging again. Kuzan darted in with Soru, fists cloaked in Haki.
"Let's dance, big guy!"
His punch connected — and bounced off. The next thing he knew, he was airborne.
Wham.
Kuzan crashed through a tree and groaned. "Alright, you win round one…"
Another shadow loomed — another punch. He rolled away, muttering, "You could at least let me monologue!"
The fight dragged on. Every time he landed a hit, the beast retaliated harder. Soon, his whole body throbbed with pain, but deep down, he felt it — that spark of power building in his fists, the will to endure.
"Armed Haki… huh," he whispered. "Guess it really does come from pain."
Boa slithered between them, her massive body coiling as if to stop the fight. The gorilla huffed, staring her down — and to Kuzan's surprise, backed off.
"Ohhh, I see. You two know each other," Kuzan said, smirking despite the bruises. "Guess that makes me the new guy here."
The gorilla gave him a grunt, almost approvingly. From that day forward, Kuzan called him Great Sage, after the old legends of invincible monkeys.
Together with Boa, the three formed a strange alliance — training, hunting, and occasionally teaming up to beat Kuzan senseless.
Months passed. His Armament Haki grew stronger, sharper. The dull pain of each blow turned into confidence.
Then, one day, the island went silent.
Kuzan was returning from the forest when the ground shook with thunderous impacts. He sprinted toward the sound, branches snapping underfoot. When he arrived, the sight froze him where he stood.
Boa and the Great Sage were locked in battle with a man, slender, pale, with long crimson hair tied neatly behind his head. He held a sleek umbrella sword dripping with blood.
Both beasts were already battered and bleeding.
"Boa! Great Sage!" Kuzan shouted, rushing forward.
The man turned calmly toward him, eyes glinting with faint amusement.
"Oh?" His voice was smooth, aristocratic. "A Marine… here?"
Kuzan's pupils narrowed. "That face… you're—"
The man smiled faintly, brushing imaginary dust from his crimson coat.
"Patrick Redfield," he said. "Though most prefer to call me Red the Aloof."
A chill ran through Kuzan's spine.
He'd read the name before — a legend whispered among Vice Admirals. A pirate so strong that he rivaled Roger and Whitebeard in their prime. A man said to possess the power of a vampire, who could drain life itself.
Kuzan clenched his fists, Haki surging instinctively. "A legend like you shouldn't be here…"
Redfield tilted his head, his red eyes gleaming. "And yet, here you are, too, little Marine. How curious. Are you my welcome party?"
He stepped forward, the air around him warping with quiet menace.
Kuzan exhaled slowly, frost curling from his lips. "Guess dinner's cancelled, Boa."
He dropped into a stance, eyes cold as ice.
"Let's see what makes a legend bleed."
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