Vargan didn't scream when Shion's presence vanished.
He froze.
His sabers trembled in his grip, not from fear—but from something far worse in a man who lived by perfect discipline.
Loss.
Then his heartbeat spiked, his breath hitched, and the soldier mask finally shattered. His aura exploded outward in a violent shockwave. The mochi on his arms melted, then hardened again with jagged spikes. His sclera darkened. His Haki flared so violently the sand beneath him liquefied.
Xebec actually paused mid-laugh.
"Oh?" The captain grinned a jagged, monstrous grin. "Did the little toy soldier finally snap?"
Vargan didn't answer.
He roared—a sound so raw and guttural it didn't even sound human. His body warped, mochi twisting violently, spreading across the beach in black-and-white tendrils. They hardened with Haki, forming monstrous limbs, weapons, spikes—an entire battlefield of organic, shifting destruction.
It was awakening.
The mochi beneath Xebec's feet rippled like a living tide, trying to swallow him whole.
Xebec leapt back, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his sword. "KUHAHAHAHA! NOW THIS IS MORE LIKE IT!"
The awakened mochi surged upward like a tidal wave, forming a massive arm the size of a small ship, coated in thick black Armament, slamming down with enough force to bury a Sea King.
Xebec blocked it with one arm. One.
The ground cracked for miles.
Vargan appeared behind him instantly, his body half-mochi, half-Haki, blades hardened like obsidian. He slashed, each strike fast enough to whistle like bullets. The air split around them, shockwaves bursting through the smoke.
Xebec's grin only widened, eyes lighting with manic joy.
"BARLEY worth my time—BUT WORTHY."
He swung.
The clash was nuclear.
Mochi and steel, Haki and madness, exploding against each other in a storm of black lightning and tearing wind. Trees disintegrated. Ruins collapsed. Even the ocean recoiled.
And far off, sitting on a frozen rock overlooking the battlefield, two silhouettes watched peacefully.
Whitebeard sat with one knee up, sake jug in hand, hair dripping with salt spray.
Jinx sat beside him, legs dangling off the ice shelf, mask off, sipping sake from a cracked cup he'd stolen from the palace.
Whitebeard took a long drink and sighed. "He's loud."
Jinx nodded, eyes tired. "The mochi one? Very."
The ground beneath them shook as Vargan unleashed a barrage of awakened mochi tendrils infused with Haki. They smashed into the cliffside below. Ice shattered. Stone cracked. A plume of dust shot up the entire beach.
Whitebeard didn't even look down.
"He's angry about the Phoenix dying," he said, swirling the sake. "I get it."
Jinx shrugged. "I killed the fire one too. He took it personally."
Whitebeard gave him a sideways look. "You cut his head off."
"I was busy."
Another explosion rocked the coastline. A tendril of mochi shaped like a guillotine blade almost tore the cliff in half. Xebec bulldozed through it laughing, covered in cuts that healed instantly from sheer willpower and insanity.
Whitebeard lifted the sake jug again. "Think Rocks'll kill him?"
Jinx watched Vargan slam Xebec in the face with a mochi-turned-cannonball so big it made the island tilt.
"Maybe," he murmured.
Then Vargan roared again, blue Armament crackling across his whole body. The mochi-spikes hardened to diamonds, the blades stretching to twenty meters.
Xebec's knees bent—the first sign that the Marine was actually pushing him.
Whitebeard's eyebrows rose. "Oh-ho… that's new."
Jinx took another sip. "Awakening plus grief plus rage equals problem."
"And Xebec hates problems."
A building-sized mochi fist slammed Xebec into the cliff face. Dust exploded upward in a mushroom cloud. Even the frozen waves cracked from the impact.
Whitebeard grinned. "He'll like this one."
Jinx poured more sake into his cup. "He'll kill this one."
On the battlefield, Vargan lunged, roaring Shion's name, Haki burning black-blue.
Xebec stepped out of the dust cloud, bleeding, grinning like a demon.
"GOOD!" he shouted, wiping blood from his jaw. "BREAK MORE! SCREAM LOUDER! SHOW ME DESPAIR!"
Then he vanished.
The world bent.
His blade cut through the mochi wave so fast the air ignited. The shockwave ripped a trench down the coast, splitting the beach like the island was being carved open.
Vargan staggered back—first misstep of the fight.
Jinx tapped his cup thoughtfully. "He's dead."
Whitebeard nodded. "He's dead."
The battle raged on, roaring like a hurricane.
And the two pirates continued drinking as if watching a festival.
The battle had barely settled when Whitebeard's quake finished Shion, and Vargan's mochi body finally stopped twitching under Xebec's boot. The freezing wind dragged smoke across the ruined kingdom, and for a moment, everything was quiet except the crackle of dying flames and the soft whistle of ice forming on debris.
Whitebeard wiped blood off his knuckles, shoulder rising and falling with controlled breaths.
"Hell of a mess," he muttered, voice deep and gravelly.
Xebec spat to the side, annoyed his adrenaline was already cooling.
"Mess? Bah! This was barely a warm-up! That phoenix bastard died too fast."
Then he grinned, wicked and unhinged. "But you killed 'im good, Newgate. Not bad."
Whitebeard scoffed. "He dropped his guard. That's all."
Behind them, Jinx crouched beside Shion's shattered corpse, head tilted like a curious fox listening to the ground breathe. The black blade Hyōmeishu rested against his hip, faint ghostflame still lingering around the sheath.
Whitebeard finally noticed what Jinx was doing.
"…Jinx. What the hell are you staring at?"
Jinx didn't answer immediately. He pressed his palm on the frost-crusted ground, and black ice crawled outward like roots. Souls whispered around his hand— faint lights swirling in a pattern only he understood.
Xebec raised a brow. "Oi, brat. Don't tell me you're collecting souvenirs."
Jinx calmly replied, "Not souvenirs."
The black ice surged upward, swallowing Shion's body in seconds and sealing him inside a coffin-like block.
"Experiment."
Whitebeard stepped back as the air suddenly dropped another ten degrees.
"…Experiment with what?"
Jinx snapped his fingers—and tossed a pineapple into the black ice block.
Xebec blinked. "A pineapple?"
Jinx stood up, brushing frost from his sleeve. "Testing if I can trap a devil fruit's spirit. If I'm right, the fruit should reincarnate into the closest physical match."
Whitebeard stared. "You're telling me you just shoved a pineapple in with a phoenix?"
"Mm."
Inside the ice, the pineapple twitched.
And then—faint, swirling marks began etching across its skin. The start of a devil fruit's iconic patterns.
Whitebeard's jaw actually dropped.
"…That's—what the hell—?"
Something smacked into Jinx's foot.
He looked down.
On the frozen sand, wobbly and ugly as sin, was a white, stubby fruit with swirling stripes.
Xebec burst out laughing.
"KUAHAHAHAHA! The mochi fruit! Even in death that soldier follows orders!"
Whitebeard crouched down, picking it up carefully. "So that's the Mochi Mochi no Mi… Didn't expect it to roll here."
Jinx answered calmly, "It went to the nearest compatible fruit. Mochi is rice-based. Coconut is the closest thing on this beach."
Whitebeard gave a low whistle. "So that's the rule?"
"No," Jinx corrected, pointing at the pineapple slowly mutating in the ice.
"That is the instinct."
Xebec crossed his arms, curiosity winning over bloodlust.
"Oi, brat. You said devil fruits have… souls? Spirits?"
He scoffed. "That's a big claim, even for you."
Jinx held Hyōmeishu in one hand, blade humming with ghost-cold.
"It's not a claim. It's memory. Or fragments of one."
Whitebeard and Xebec both leaned in slightly, sensing something ancient in his tone.
Jinx continued, voice distant—almost echoing, like someone speaking through layers of time.
"Devil fruits… didn't exist before my era. They were born from people. Not bodies—"
He tapped his temple.
"Dreams. Wishes. Fears. Even nightmares. Pure emotion shaped into power."
Xebec narrowed his eyes. "What, you mean someone fears lightning and—poof—it becomes a fruit?"
Jinx shrugged lightly. "Not… exactly. Fear alone isn't enough. But fear felt by thousands? Or a dream shared by an entire culture? Desire that burns through generations? That becomes something greater."
He motioned to the burning ruins around them.
"In a world that desperately wanted power, those feelings found shape."
Whitebeard frowned. "What about the Mythical Zoans? The phoenix. Dragons. Gods."
Jinx's expression shifted—something between recollection and haunting melancholy.
"Those have souls," he murmured.
"Real ones. Born from beings that existed before your history began."
Xebec's grin widened. "So they choose their wielder, you're saying?"
"Most of the time."
Jinx tapped the mochi fruit with his foot, sending it rolling toward Whitebeard.
"Some are picky. Some drift. Some hunt. And some are… lonely."
Whitebeard studied Jinx, trying to read a face that didn't shift much.
"Why do they have souls at all? Who gave 'em that?"
Jinx looked toward the sky, where the storm clouds parted to reveal a stark, empty sun.
"I can't remember everything," he said quietly, "but I know this much—devils were real in my time. Some were born. Others were made. But all of them were shaped by people."
He gestured at the world around them.
"And since people dream and fear endlessly… devil fruits keep being born."
Xebec broke into a full-blown grin.
"KUAHAHAHAHA! Now that is interesting! A world where power grows with chaos!"
Whitebeard shook his head, half in awe, half in disbelief.
"Devils from the void century… dreams turning into weapons… tch. This world's crazier than I thought."
Jinx lifted Hyōmeishu, the ghostflame reflecting in his violet eyes.
"Crazy is normal," he said quietly. "Get used to it."
Behind them, the pineapple fully transformed into the Pine-Pine Mythical Phoenix Fruit, glowing faintly inside its black-ice tomb.
And on the sand, the Mochi Mochi no Mi sat like a patient child waiting for instructions.
Everything was silent again.
Except for the faint whisper of souls circling around Jinx.
Jinx crouched down, scooping up both Devil Fruits like he was picking flowers.
The mochi fruit jiggled in his hand. The phoenix pineapple pulsed faintly in its block of black ice.
Whitebeard frowned. "You're not eating those too, are you?"
"No."
Jinx flicked his wrist.
Both fruits melted into shadow—vanishing beneath his feet like stones dropping into an abyss.
Xebec stared. "…Did you just pocket two Devil Fruits in your shadow?"
Jinx shrugged. "Storage."
Whitebeard took a slow breath. "You're a menace."
"Mm."
Xebec grinned. "KUAHAHA! Good. The world needs more menaces."
Jinx sheathed Hyōmeishu, ghostflame fading as the blade clicked home.
And far away—too far for normal eyes to see—a Marine den-den mushi was screaming.
Mariejois – Holy Land, Fleet Admiral's Office
The office was dim, lit only by lanterns reflecting off sheets of polished steel and stacks of deployment reports. Every surface looked cold, ordered, severe.
At the center sat Fleet Admiral Garvillon "Iron Order" Lestrem.
Broad shoulders. Square jaw. Gray hair cropped short like a war monk. His voice carried weight without ever rising—authority forged from forty years of battle.
He was the man before Kong.
The man the government called when they needed someone cruel, calm, and absolutely obedient.
A Cipher Pol 0 agent knelt before him, trembling.
Garvillon read the tablet slowly.
THREE VICE ADMIRALS — SHION, VARGAN, KYRON — CONFIRMED DEAD.
CAUSE OF DEATH: UNKNOWN PIRATE ENTITY KNOWN AS "THE KITSUNE."
KINGDOM ANNIHILATED. DEATH TOLL ESTIMATED AT 12,000.
DEVIL FRUIT REINCARNATIONS: UNRECOVERED.
Garvillon did not blink.
"Three Vice Admirals," he murmured. "Three… in one day."
His fingers closed around the tablet until the metal cracked.
"Where," he asked, voice low, "is the nearest Buster Call fleet?"
"R–Ready for deployment, Fleet Admiral!"
Garvillon stood, towering.
"Send it. And send all Cipher Pol units in the region. I want the identity of this… 'Kitsune.' No matter the cost."
The CP0 agent saluted, bolting from the room.
Garvillon exhaled.
"First Rocks… now this."
His gaze sharpened.
"The era is shifting."
Mariejois – The Empty Throne Room
Silent.
Dark.
The room felt colder than the sea around Jinx's island, no torches lit, only moonlight filtering through stained glass.
On the throne—
Imu sat perfectly still.
A single CP0 agent knelt before them.
"Your Majesty… we received the report from the Grandline."
Imu said nothing.
"The Marines encountered a new threat. A being the survivors call… The Kitsune."
A long… slow inhale.
Imu's fingers tightened on the armrest.
"…Kitsune…"
The voice was hollow. Genderless. Echoing.
"…That name…"
A flicker of emotion—faint shock, faint recognition—passed like a shadow under the hood.
"Repeat it," Imu whispered.
"T-The Kitsune, Your Majesty."
Silence stretched across the room like a blade.
Imu's hand trembled.
"…No."
Their tone softened into something almost human.
"That shouldn't be possible."
A whisper, only the Empty Throne heard:
"…My little brother… died long ago."
The CP0 agent looked up sharply—confused, terrified.
But Imu was already rising from the throne, cloak dragging over ancient stone.
"Find him," they murmured.
"If he truly walks this world again… then the void century is beginning to stir."
A cold breeze swept through the room, extinguishing the moonlight itself.
"And the world is not ready."
Back to Rocks' Beach
Whitebeard sat on a chunk of broken stone, arms crossed, staring out at the frozen coastline.
"Jinx," he muttered. "You said your name to that fire guy earlier. The one you killed."
Jinx paused mid-step. "…Mm."
"You didn't tell us," Whitebeard continued. "Is that what the Marines'll call you now? The Kitsune?"
Jinx rolled his shoulders.
"It doesn't matter."
But something in his voice shifted—subtle, distant, like a memory brushing against ice.
Xebec slung an arm around Jinx's neck, laughing loud enough to shake the waves.
"WHO CARES WHAT THEY CALL YOU, BRAT? KUAHAHAHA! As long as they FEAR you!"
He pointed toward the sea, where the ruins of the Marine ships still floated like broken bones.
"Three Vice Admirals dead, a kingdom erased, two god-tier fruits lost—let them panic!"
Whitebeard chuckled low. "They already are."
Jinx's eyes glowed faint violet.
"Good."
He looked at his shadow—where inside, two Devil Fruits rested, swirling faintly with their reincarnated souls.
"And they'll panic more soon."
Whitebeard raised an eyebrow. "What're you planning?"
Jinx smirked just barely—a ghost of expression.
"Something future me will remember."
Xebec roared with laughter again. "I like the sound of that! HAHAHA! Let the world government choke on fear!"
Behind them, the frozen pineapple in black ice pulsed.
The Phoenix Fruit had chosen its new home.
And Imu—far away—stared at the sky in the Empty Throne Room, whispering:
"…Kitsune… Jinx… why does that name still hurt?"
Grand Line — Two Hours After the Massacre
Buster Call Fleet "Omega Spear"
Five battleships cut through the sea in iron formation, smoke trailing from their funnels, the banners of the World Government snapping violently in the wind. Cannons were primed. Troops were armed to the teeth. Den-den mushi were tuned to kill orders.
Vice Admiral Korren stood at the prow, cloak billowing, jaw locked tight. He'd fought under Shion, learned under Vargan, drank with Kyron.
He was here for revenge.
"Men!" he roared over the wind. "Prepare visual contact. The conquered kingdom should be directly ahead!"
Marines scrambled up the masts, spyglasses out.
Then—
"…Sir?"
"What is it?!"
The lookout didn't answer immediately.
He just stared.
And slowly lowered the spyglass.
"V-Vice Admiral Korren… the island…"
Korren snatched the spyglass, irritated. "Give me that—"
He raised it.
And his stomach dropped.
The island wasn't an island anymore.
It was a corpse of winter.
Everything—everything—was frozen.
The beach. The houses. The palace ruins. The mountains.
The trees weren't trees anymore but black-ice spires jutting like spears toward the heavens.
The kingdom's harbor was a solid, glassy plane stretching out like the world's largest mirror.
Ships—merchant, navy, pirate—were frozen mid-sink, hanging half-submerged in ice like insects in amber.
The kingdom itself?
Gone.
Not burned.
Not destroyed.
Not pillaged.
Encased. Trapped in eternal frost. A tomb.
Private Jinto whispered, "Th-This… this wasn't in the report…"
Korren swallowed, suddenly unsure of the very air around him.
"Full fleet—halt," he commanded, but his voice wavered.
"Do not approach the ice sheet. Send reconnaissance—"
"V-Vice Admiral!" another Marine shouted from the other ship.
"Spikes! Massive ice spikes—hundreds of meters tall—covering the center of the island!"
Korren snapped the spyglass back up.
Even from miles away, he saw them.
Titanic pillars of black ice, spiraling upward like the bones of some ancient god.
One spike had skewered the palace like a blade straight through its heart.
Another had burst from the mountain, cleaving it in half.
A third towered higher than the Marines' tallest ship, crowned in frost halos that glimmered like stars.
A hush fell over the fleet.
Someone muttered, "No human did this…"
Another whispered, "A monster."
A third: "A demon."
Korren clenched the railing so hard the wood cracked.
He forced authority into his voice, even as sweat froze on his neck.
"There must be survivors. Spread out. Search the shoreline. I want bodies. ANY bodies."
But the island told a different truth.
The first landing troops marched stiffly down the gangplank, weapons drawn, boots clinking on the frost.
Their breath fogged in front of them.
They stepped onto the frozen sand of the beach.
And immediately recoiled.
"Sir?! The ice… is warm."
Korren blinked. "Warm?!"
The soldier pressed a trembling hand to the frost again.
"It's… it's warm like… like breath."
Another soldier shouted, "Vice Admiral! The ice is pulsing!"
Korren stared harder.
He saw it.
The ice wasn't just ice.
It was alive.
Rhythmic.
Heartbeat-like.
As if souls trapped inside were still whispering, frozen mid-scream.
Another cry came from a patrol on the right flank.
"Sir! We found… shapes under the ice."
Korren ran across the deck.
He looked.
Under the translucent layer of black frost were bodies—guards, nobles, citizens—curled in terror, preserved like statues.
Faces frozen in agony.
Some reaching upward.
Some clawing at their chests.
Some with their mouths open, on the verge of screaming still.
The Marines recoiled.
"Vice Admiral… what happened here?"
Korren stared at the island in silent horror.
Then he saw something that chilled him more than the ice ever could:
A massive fox-shaped shadow frozen into the cliffside.
Like a brand.
Like a warning.
He felt his legs weaken.
"This wasn't a battle," he whispered.
"This was a burial."
A young Marine stammered, "Sir… should we retreat?"
Korren's voice dropped to a whisper.
"…Yes."
The word came out before he could stop it.
He looked at the forest of black ice spikes, at the frozen souls beneath the ground, at the unnatural warmth of the frost.
Then he repeated louder:
"YES! RETREAT! NOW!"
The fleet scrambled.
Anchors up.
Engines roared.
The massive warships pivoted away from the island like terrified beasts.
Korren didn't take his eyes off the frozen wasteland.
"…What kind of monster turns a kingdom into a grave of winter in less than an hour?"
Another Marine whispered:
"The reports said his name was… The Kitsune."
Korren swallowed.
"That thing wasn't a pirate."
He turned away, trembling.
"That was a calamity."
Rocks Pirates Ship — Drifting Beyond the Frozen Kingdom
The sea was calm again, as if the world itself was trying to pretend nothing horrifying had happened back on the island. The sky was clear, the wind soft, and the ship gently cut through the waves like a lazy predator.
Xebec lounged against the main mast with a half-empty jug of sake, boots kicked up, laughing at absolutely nothing like the memories of a madman kept cracking him up.
Whitebeard sat opposite him on a crate reinforced with steel plates—because the last normal crate splintered under his weight. A massive jug rested on his knee, and every few moments he'd lift it to his lips with a deep, satisfied grunt.
And between them…
Jinx sat cross-legged on the deck, mask off, humming softly.
A block of black ice floated beside him, rotating gently in the air.
His hands glowed faint violet as he guided several thin ice threads, shaping the frost like clay.
Whitebeard watched him for a moment, brow raising.
"…What are you makin' now?"
Jinx didn't look up.
"A turtle."
Xebec snorted. "Why a turtle?! Make something cool! Like a demon! Or a giant skull! Or—"
"It's a turtle," Jinx repeated.
Xebec groaned loudly, like this was a moral defeat.
"You're too damn calm, brat! We just slaughtered a kingdom!"
Jinx tilted his head. "Mm. And?"
"And?!" Xebec slammed his jug down. "And you're makin' pets?!"
Jinx shrugged. "I like turtles."
Whitebeard let out a booming laugh. "Gurarararara! Let him sculpt. It's peaceful."
The turtle took form—small, icy, with a swirling shadow inside like a trapped soul. Damn thing even blinked when Jinx tapped its shell.
Xebec leaned forward, staring. "…Is it alive?"
"Maybe."
"…Is it dangerous?"
"Maybe."
"…Will it explode?"
"…Yes."
Xebec jerked back. "WHY?!!"
Jinx pointed at the ice creature calmly.
"It's learning."
The turtle blinked again.
Whitebeard sipped his sake. "You're gonna blow up the ship one day, kid."
Jinx shaped another sculpture—this time a miniature fox, nine tails swirling like dancing frostfire. Its eyes glowed violet, mirroring Jinx's own for a moment.
He stared at it a little longer than the others.
Xebec noticed. "You're quiet. That means you're thinking. I don't like when you think."
Jinx didn't deny it.
He simply whispered to the fox, "I don't remember you… but you feel familiar."
Whitebeard tilted his head. "Memory again?"
"Mm."
Xebec scoffed. "Hah! Let the past stay dead. You're a Rocks Pirate now. Your old life doesn't matter."
Jinx didn't respond.
Instead, he lifted the black-ice fox into the air and let it walk along the deck rail. Tiny paws left frost prints that evaporated into shadow.
The sky began to dim into evening colors.
Jinx made another sculpture—this time a human figure.
Tall. Pale. Cloaked.
Face obscured in a hood of ice.
But the shape of the jaw…
The curve of the shoulders…
The eerie stillness…
Whitebeard noticed.
"…That looks like somebody."
Xebec squinted. "Who the hell is that?"
Jinx stared at the sculpture for a long, silent moment.
"…I don't know."
His voice was soft. Almost fragile.
"But when I try to remember my family… that's the shape I see."
Whitebeard went quiet.
Xebec's grin faded for once.
Jinx touched the sculpture—and it cracked. Shattered.
Scattered into a thousand black snowflakes.
He immediately switched to carving something else—this time a fish.
Xebec blinked. "…The hell was that mood swing?"
Jinx shrugged again. "Didn't like it."
Whitebeard sighed. "Kid… you'll remember when you're meant to."
Jinx didn't answer.
The ice fish wiggled its tail and dove straight off the ship—swimming away like a living shadow in the ocean.
Xebec watched it go, then finally burst out laughing again.
"KUAHAHAHAHA! Bah! I gotta admit—having a monster like you on the crew makes this life a helluva lot more interesting!"
Whitebeard nodded. "Aye. The boy's odd… but he's an asset."
Jinx sculpted one last thing—a small gravestone of ice.
He placed it gently on the deck.
Whitebeard froze mid-drink. "…Who's that for?"
Jinx answered with a faint, cold smile.
"For the three Vice Admirals who died earlier."
Xebec cackled. "KUAHAHA! That's the spirit, brat!"
Jinx added a second gravestone.
Whitebeard blinked. "Who's the second for?"
Jinx tapped the stone.
"Your liver."
Whitebeard choked on his drink.
Xebec fell backward laughing.
Jinx created a third gravestone.
"What's that one for?!" Xebec wheezed.
Jinx smirked slightly.
"For your braincells."
Xebec roared. "BRAT—!!"
And the Rocks Pirates continued drifting under the orange sky, leaving behind the frozen remains of a kingdom, a panicking Marine HQ, and a world that had just begun whispering the name—
The Kitsune.