❛ THE FUTURE PIRATE KING. ❜
⋆ ˚｡⋆ ( Chapter: 01. ) ⋆ ˚｡⋆
We finally meet again.
"So, will you join my crew?"
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FOR CENTURIES, the ocean was her cathedral. Its walls were built from coral bones and kelp canopies. Its windows shimmered with refracted sunlight filtered through miles of liquid sky. There was no wind in her world—only currents, shifting gently like the breath of a slumbering beast.
And Matsu was its god.
Not by choice, but by birthright.
The moment she was born, the ocean recoiled and rejoiced. Whales sang of her for decades. Even the sea kings, beasts older than history itself, bowed their scaled heads in reverence when she passed. The tide moved differently where she swam—slower, as though even water paused to make space for her.
Yet for all her power, her heart remained heavy.
She had seen what humans had done to her kind. Nereids, the deep-sea daughters of the tide, once swam freely across every ocean trench. Born not of Devil Fruits, but of soulbound magic gifted from the marrow of the sea itself. Their beauty was a song of myth. Their voices could calm a tsunami or stir one.
But beauty, she learned, was both shield and sword.
Humans hunted them not for survival, but for possession. Nets soaked in iron. Chains of black stone that broke the body and spirit alike. Some were kept in glass prisons—tanks lit with artificial stars, their tears mistaken for pearls.
She remembered those nights. The screams. The red-tinted water. The silence after.
So Matsu swam deeper, far beneath even the twilight zone, where the pressure could crush submarines and monsters didn't bother to name themselves. There, she ruled. There, she protected what was left.
But the deeper she swam, the lonelier she became.
And then came him.
She first met him as a child—a boy with a grin too wide for his face, and dreams too big for the world. He had stumbled across her, quite literally, while chasing after seagulls near a cliffside shore. She had been basking in the shallows, tail half-draped in sea foam, watching clouds move like migrating jellyfish.
He should've screamed. Should've run.
But he only said, "Cool tail. Do you have a name?"
And she—goddess, protector, feared creature of the deep—had laughed for the first time in years.
That day, she gave him something no nereid had ever given to a human.
A scale from her tail—glimmering like polished stormlight. A piece of herself, bound to memory and magic.
She told him nothing else. Only that they would meet again, and when they did, she would ask him a question—"Why didn't you fear me?"
He grinned and shouted, "Because you looked like a friend!"
Then he ran off, waving, and disappeared into the sun.
Now, years later, the sea still whispered of him.
She had searched for him for weeks—surfacing only when the wind was kind and the sky cloudless. She traveled with dolphins, followed shipwrecks, danced with turtles twice her size. But still—no sign.
Until today.
The morning sun hung low like a golden coin tossed by the gods, its light painting the ocean in honeyed stripes. Matsu floated just beneath the surface, her long silver hair drifting like moonlight through salt. Around her, dolphins squeaked and twirled, occasionally brushing their sleek bodies against her in affectionate play.
She clung gently to one of their fins, allowing herself to be pulled lazily through the waves.
The surface shimmered, a mirror stretched across a sleeping world.
Above it, the chirping of birds echoed—the distant caws of gulls who followed ships for crumbs.
Ships. She tensed. Ships meant humans.
She let go of the dolphin and slowly sank deeper, her gills flexing open as her hands curled with instinct. She hadn't been seen in years—not by human eyes. Not since...
But then—a scent. Faint. Familiar.
It clung to the air above like warm smoke.
Him.
Her pulse thudded in her throat.
She swam forward with slow, measured strokes. Her large tail moved with barely a sound, parting the water like a blade through silk. In the distance, she saw it—a barrel drifting aimlessly. Harmless. Forgotten.
But the scent clung to it like a memory.
"Could it be...?"
Her breath caught. The ocean stilled. And for a moment, it felt like the sea itself held its breath, too.
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The ocean breathed around her like a slumbering beast—silent, endless, powerful.
Matsu hovered just below the surface, her silver hair fanning around her in waves like living silk. Light pierced the water in gentle shafts, breaking across her skin and scales, making her appear like a moving constellation. Her tail remained still, but coiled—ready to surge.
Above her, the barrel bobbed.
Wooden. Small. Innocent on the surface. But the scent—the essence—leaked through the soaked slats like warm honey on ice.
Him.
It had been years, yet the scent hadn't changed. A bizarre mixture of sun-baked citrus, salt, and something wild, something unbreakable. Like wind trapped in a bottle.
Her heartbeat—usually quiet and slow as a sea creature's—thumped like a war drum in her chest. She inched closer, shifting through the current. Her fingers ghosted upward, brushing the barnacle-covered bottom of the barrel. It creaked faintly.
A memory hit her like a rogue wave.
A boy laughing under the burning sky.
A rough straw hat too large for his head.
"You're not scary at all," he had said to her.
"You're kind of cool."
Her lips parted, whispering his name into the sea. "Luffy..." The sound never reached the surface. The water swallowed it.
Suddenly, from above—a ship's shadow rolled in like a dark cloud.
A pirate ship, weather-worn and loud, its mast flapping with an obnoxious pink flag. Matsu's senses flared. She could hear the slap of boots, the guttural laughter of drunk men, and the unmistakable metal-on-wood drag of a weapon.
Alvida's ship.
Her nose wrinkled.
She had encountered ships like this before—greedy, violent, filled with men who saw her kind as currency. Who painted Nereid scales into perfumes and mounted their bones on walls.
But this ship wasn't her concern. The boy in the barrel was.
Just then—the barrel shifted.
The ocean trembled softly around it.
With a powerful swish of her tail, Matsu dove under, circling below the hull of the ship like a shark. She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the barrel thudded loudly above—and a shockwave of familiar energy spilled through the air like fireworks underwater.
She froze. Then—
BOOM!
The sound of a barrel exploding apart.
Screams. And then, laughter.
His laugh.
Warm and chaotic and bright as the surface sun.
Matsu slowly rose, her head just barely breaking the water like a haunting spirit, hidden in the froth. Her eyes locked onto the deck above—half-obscured by crates and sails—but she could feel him now.
His presence pulsed through her like a storm.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!" shouted one of Alvida's crew, backing away in wide-eyed horror as a boy—young, lanky, wearing a weathered red vest—rose out of the busted barrel like it was a throne.
Luffy grinned, stretching his arms toward the sky.
"Ahhh! That nap was amazing!"
Matsu's lips curled into the faintest smile.
He hadn't changed. Not really.
Another pirate lunged toward him with a rusted sword. Matsu instinctively twitched, eyes narrowing—ready to summon a tide and crush the man's ribs—but Luffy moved faster.
A punch. So fast it blurred. The pirate flew backward like a ragdoll, crashing into barrels and moaning like a squashed pig.
Matsu's smile faded.
He had gotten stronger.
No longer just a curious boy on the shore.
He was a storm wrapped in skin.
And yet, still... a spark of that reckless innocence danced in his grin.
"I'm Monkey D. Luffy." His voice rang over the water like a bell. "And I'm gonna be King of the Pirates."
The ship went silent.
Matsu remained where she was, floating half-submerged. Her reflection shimmered across the waves. King of the Pirates...?
A dangerous title. A foolish dream.
And yet... something in her chest stirred. Not fear. Not doubt.
Hope.
She hadn't felt it in years.
The pirates scrambled, shouting to Alvida that an intruder was on board. Matsu dove back beneath the waves, trailing the hull as Luffy began wreaking havoc above.
She watched from below as cannonballs were loaded, as crates fell, as Coby—a boy trembling with fear—peeked out from behind a barrel and found courage in Luffy's madness.
Matsu's hand hovered over her chest. Her heart beat fast.
The ocean whispered around her: He's still him.
The one who saw her not as a prize... but as a person.
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The sun had barely risen when Matsu emerged from the sea.
She surfaced slowly, her eyes fixed on the silhouette of the island ahead. Shells Town.
A humble marine base, insignificant in size—yet strangely buzzing with spiritual noise. The cries of injustice clung to the mist like cobwebs. Something dark was festering there. Something rotten.
She had followed the boy and the pink-haired human—Coby, the fragile one—from afar, letting the currents guide her. But now, the shore was close. Too close.
Matsu stared down at her tail—shimmering, powerful, ancient.
This would not do. Not on land.
She swam to the shallows, where the reef gave way to golden sand. There, beneath a curtain of moon-kissed waves, she whispered a quiet prayer in Old Tongue. The words felt sacred on her lips, like water made of sound.
"Skin of salt, soul of storm,
Let the earth not see what the ocean adorned."
Her body pulsed with divine light—subtle, soft, like bioluminescent jellyfish swirling inside her.
And then—
Her tail split.
Pain bloomed up her spine like fire—short-lived but sharp—as scales vanished, melting into soft flesh. Legs formed, long and strong, elegant but unsteady.
She gasped, collapsing onto the sand. Her knees buckled. Her breath hitched.
The first step always burned.
Her silver hair clung to her bare back. She glanced around. A washed-up crate from a wrecked fishing vessel sat nearby, its lid broken open, its contents spilling into the surf.
Inside: a simple pair of black shorts. A threadbare cotton shirt, pale from salt exposure.
She slipped them on quickly. The shorts hugged her hips, the shirt hung loose. Her feet touched land fully for the first time in years—barefoot, kissed by the earth, and every grain of sand felt like an alien kiss.
Her long silver hair draped like liquid moonlight down her back, wild and untamed. Her blue eyes shimmered unnaturally in the morning haze, glowing faintly with celestial depth.
Matsu inhaled deeply. The air was wrong.
But freedom was never supposed to feel easy.
She walked—awkwardly, gracefully, like a goddess remembering how to be human.
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The island smelled strange.
Not like salt and kelp and whale-song—but dry earth, burnt oil, bitter sweat. The air here was heavier, not with pressure like the ocean's depths, but with human tension, an invisible smog of fear and weariness. Shells Town was quiet, too quiet, like it had once tried to sing and then forgotten how.
Matsu's bare feet touched the cobblestone carefully, feeling every shift of stone and every grain of dust like a whispered insult. Her steps were silent, too graceful to draw attention, but her appearance made heads turn.
She didn't look like she belonged here—not with her long, silver hair catching the morning light like mercury, and her skin luminous with a faint shimmer that hadn't quite faded from her transformation. Her eyes—unearthly blue, deep and searching—swept across the buildings and the people alike.
Children clung to their mothers' skirts. A vendor paused mid-shout, his fish hanging limp in one hand.
They stared.
Not in cruelty, not yet—but in confusion. In awe. In fear.
Matsu kept walking, unfazed. She had faced beasts born of trenchfire and kelp-thorn. The looks of frightened humans were nothing. But still... it was strange.
This world was loud. Dry. Slow.
The further she walked into town, the more human things became. Shouts. Bargains. The sharp clatter of glass and metal. Bored marines loitering near the barracks. A boy drawing something with chalk on the stone—when he looked up at her, he dropped it, eyes wide.
"Did you see her?"
"She doesn't even have shoes..."
"That hair—she must be from the Grand Line!"
"Maybe she's a pirate."
The words floated behind her like bubbles rising to the surface. She ignored them all.
Then she heard it—the name.
"Did you hear!? They've got Roronoa Zoro tied up at the base!"
The voice belonged to a scrappy little boy, winded from running, shouting the gossip like it were gospel. His friend, a girl in a patched dress, nodded quickly.
"They say he cut down twenty men in one night. He's gonna be executed soon!"
Zoro. A hunter. A name passed from tavern to tavern like a curse. A man with a sword at each hip and a death wish tied to his spine.
Matsu paused beneath the shadow of a crooked fruit stand, her eyes slowly turning toward the Marine base rising in the distance, its tower like a white dagger pointed at the sky.
A place built on order—but saturated with rot. She could feel it now, more than before. Like a heartbeat under the stone. Something was wrong inside those walls.
A memory stirred—a different prison, deep below the sea, where her kin had been chained and drained for their blood. That base had fallen beneath a tidal wave she'd conjured in grief. This one... she would watch. For now.
She adjusted her loose shirt, wind tugging at the hem. The black shorts clung to her thighs where seawater hadn't yet dried. Her bare feet touched the warm stones like a secret she wasn't supposed to tell.
And still she walked. Not to cause chaos.
Not to be seen.
But because something inside her pulled her forward—a voice, distant but familiar. A promise. A boy who once laughed into the sun and never asked her to explain her existence.
She would find him.
And fate, for once, would not make her wait.
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The courtyard of Shells Town's marine base was a prison masquerading as justice.
The sun scorched the cracked stone beneath bare feet, and marines patrolled like dogs behind fences—each of them trained to look away when cruelty wore a uniform. Children peeked from windows. Townsfolk whispered behind their shutters. Fear was stitched into the bones of this place like rot in old wood.
And into this silence walked Matsu.
Her arrival was a ripple in still water—small, but impossible to ignore.
Barefoot, with long silver hair flowing like a sea-born veil down her back, she moved with the kind of grace that didn't belong to land. She looked too radiant for this dusty, cracked earth—like a goddess who forgot she fell.
Her presence made the wind pause.
A low murmur swept through the courtyard like the start of a storm.
"Who is that...?"
"She's not from around here..."
"That hair... those eyes—"
The marines stared. A few even stepped back, confused, unnerved. She did not flinch under their gaze.
She walked like the world owed her nothing—but watched her anyway.
At the far end of the courtyard stood Luffy, straw hat tipped over one eye, grinning lazily as if the world wasn't pressing in around him with rifles and judgment.
He felt her before he saw her.
Like the tide calling the shore home.
He turned, casually at first—then stopped dead.
His grin widened, teeth flashing. His body lit up with a joy that seemed too big for words.
"...Matsu."
He said her name softly, like a sacred thing. Not whispered in fear, but in recognition—like remembering the rhythm of a song you only ever heard once, long ago, and loved immediately.
His voice hadn't changed.
Still full of sun. Still full of wind.
Matsu met his gaze, her blue eyes vast like the open ocean. There was no dramatic reunion, no sprint into arms—just two souls staring across the years as if no time had passed.
"I promised I'd see you again," she said, her voice soft but steady. "And I don't break promises."
A few marines blinked, startled. Coby—red-faced, wide-eyed—stepped back in awe.
"Wait... Matsu? You... you know her?"
Luffy grinned. "Of course I do."
Coby looked between the two, flustered. "Who is she?"
Luffy opened his mouth—paused—then looked at Matsu with a spark of mischief in his eyes.
"She's my friend," he said simply. "The coolest one."
Matsu tilted her head at him.
"And you," she said, stepping closer, "still wear that hat like it doesn't belong to the next king of the pirates."
Luffy laughed, scratching the back of his neck.
"What can I say? It's comfy."
The marines didn't know what to do. The girl didn't seem dangerous—no weapons, no orders—but her eyes... they were wrong. Too old. Too knowing. Like she saw through them without blinking.
One tried to draw his pistol. "Oi—this isn't a tourist spot. Identify yourself, girl!"
Matsu turned to him slowly, like the moon pulling a tide.
"I have no name that belongs to this place," she said softly, "and no patience for the games of men who hide behind weak power."
The man froze.
Luffy was already laughing again, walking up beside her.
"She talks like that sometimes," he said, grinning. "Cool, right?"
Matsu side-eyed him. "You're still reckless."
"You're still barefoot."
She looked down at her feet.
"...Yes," she murmured. "I forgot how sharp the ground can be."
"You'll get used to it."
And with that, they stood together in the middle of the marine base—as if two storms had finally found each other on land.
Elsewhere in the courtyard, tied to a post and watching with half-lidded eyes, Zoro squinted at the girl with silver hair.
He had seen strange things in his life.
But nothing like her.
The way Luffy treated her—not like a weapon, not like a mystery—but like something familiar.
Zoro's brows lowered. Something told him she wasn't just another weirdo.
She was something else entirely.
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The world felt unnaturally still as Matsu stepped into the courtyard where the crucifix stood tall.
The sky above was a pale blue, blanched by heat. No clouds. No breeze. Just the scent of salt and iron in the air—and the sound of rope creaking with each sway of the wounded man hanging from it.
There he was.
Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter turned prisoner, bound and displayed like a warning to all who dared challenge the Marines.
His wrists were torn red where coarse rope bit into his skin, and dry blood clung to the corner of his mouth. Flies buzzed lazily in the heat. His green hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat and defiance.
He had not cried out. Not once.
His body had surrendered to exhaustion, but his eyes—
They were alive.
Burning with something wild.
He was not broken.
Matsu stood before the cross, silent.
She had seen death before—blood-spattered coral reefs, nereids torn from the sea by iron chains, hung in nets like trophies. And yet something about this man's stillness, his refusal to yield, struck her deeper than she expected.
He was human. And still, he held the sea's rebellion in his eyes.
She approached slowly.
The townspeople muttered, unsure of who she was, barefoot and strange. Her long silver hair caught the sunlight and made halos around her shoulders. She moved like wind across calm water—quiet, graceful, powerful.
Coby was the first to speak.
"Miss Matsu, you... shouldn't get close. He's dangerous."
She said nothing. Just looked up at Zoro.
He didn't blink. His gaze fell to hers, heavy-lidded and sharp, like a blade dulled by fatigue but still able to cut through air.
"...What are you?" he asked hoarsely.
Her voice was soft, rippling like a wave.
"Nothing you need to fear."
Zoro's brow twitched. "Then why are you staring at me like I'm a dying fish?"
She blinked slowly, then stepped closer.
"Because," she murmured, "you don't deserve to be on a cross."
She raised her hand, and gently—almost reverently—touched the lowest knot of rope. It hummed beneath her fingertips with tension and cruelty. Her fingers glowed faintly, pulsing with ancient energy the way tides responded to moonlight.
Zoro tensed.
"You a devil fruit user?" he rasped.
"No," she said simply, and untied a strip of fabric from her sleeve—a thin piece of sun-bleached cotton. She reached up, standing on the tips of her bare toes, and wrapped it around his raw, bleeding wrist with careful hands.
It was the smallest gesture he'd felt in days.
But it felt like rain after drought.
"...Why would you do that?" he asked, quieter now.
Her eyes—those bright, unnatural ocean-blue eyes—met his again.
"Because kindness is rarer than cruelty," she replied. "And I don't believe pain is meant to be spectacle."
He was quiet for a long time.
And then, the ghost of a smirk crossed his cracked lips.
"You sound like someone who doesn't belong here."
"I don't," she said truthfully.
Neither did he.
Zoro tilted his head faintly, trying to study her—really study her—but his vision was hazy with sun and hunger. "You... ain't no marine. You some kind of priestess or something?"
Matsu didn't answer.
Instead, she turned to the sound of footsteps—Luffy, strolling casually across the courtyard with that wild grin of his and three swords strapped across his back like sticks of dynamite.
Matsu stepped aside.
Zoro's gaze followed her as she moved—curious now. Curious and maybe just a little bit intrigued.
Luffy tilted his hat up.
"So, you're the guy who's gonna join my crew."
Zoro scowled. "What gave you that idea?"
"You're strong," Luffy said. "I like strong people."
Zoro snorted. "I kill pirates."
Luffy shrugged. "I don't care."
Matsu, watching from behind them both, folded her arms loosely, her silver hair shifting like the tide behind her. The breeze had finally returned. It danced across the back of her neck like a whisper from the sea.
She already knew what would happen next. Not because she was a god. But because hope recognizes its own reflection.
And in that moment, she could see it glinting behind Zoro's exhaustion—just barely.
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The courtyard was silent, heavy with the kind of tension that settles before thunder cracks open the sky.
The sun perched high and cruel, bleaching the wooden cross where Zoro hung like a forgotten saint. The crowd of villagers and marines fidgeted in their boots—some out of guilt, others out of blind obedience. The silence wasn't peace. It was fear's lullaby.
And then—He arrived.
Helmeppo.
He strolled into the square with a strut carved from entitlement, wearing arrogance like perfume, heavy and nauseating. His two bodyguards flanked him like shadow puppets, every step exaggerated, every word laced with pretense.
"Step aside!" he barked, waving his hand as though the very air obeyed him.
Matsu's gaze narrowed.
She had seen creatures like this before—royalty born from nothing but coin and cruelty. He smelled of powdered skin, cowardice, and too many lies.
He turned to face the crucified man—Zoro, bound by rope, blood dried against his shirt like rust.
"Oh, look at you now, Pirate Hunter," Helmeppo sneered. "Still hanging on? Admirable, I suppose."
Zoro's eyes remained half-lidded. He didn't answer.
But Matsu could feel the coiling of something inside him—like a sword waiting to remember its name.
Helmeppo turned to the gathering. "By order of my father, Captain Morgan, this man shall be executed tomorrow! We can't have criminals disrespecting our authority, now can we?"
He smiled wide, sickly sweet.
Then his tone darkened. "Unless, of course, someone wants to interfere."
He shot a look at Luffy.
A mistake.
Luffy, who had been quiet beside Matsu—arms crossed, head tilted up toward the crucifix—finally looked down. His eyes were shadowed beneath the brim of his straw hat.
"Tomorrow, huh?" he said, voice calm. "I don't like that."
Helmeppo raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
"You talk too much," Luffy said simply. "And you smell like rotten pickles."
The crowd gasped.
Coby nearly fainted.
Matsu didn't move. She had seen the ocean behave like this—quiet one moment, then devouring a ship the next.
Helmeppo's lip curled. "You dare insult—?! Guards! Arrest—"
CRACK.
Faster than the eye could follow, Luffy vanished from his spot. There was a blur—a gust of wind, a snap of motion—and then:
Helmeppo flew backward like a kicked doll, smashing through a wall, bricks crumbling around him like broken teeth.
Dust exploded into the air.
Silence.
"Helmeppo-sama!!!" the guards screamed.
Luffy landed softly on both feet, still holding onto his hat. A casual flick of his hand dismissed the moment like it was nothing.
"I hate people like him," he said, brushing his pants off.
The marines stumbled forward, panicked. One raised his rifle—shaking. "Y-You're under arrest!"
Matsu moved before the bullet could even dream of leaving the chamber.
Her bare feet whispered against the stone, and in a single blink, she was beside the rifleman. Her hand—slender, pale, carved from ancient salt—closed around the barrel of the gun and bent it with a quiet grace that made the marine cry out.
Her voice, when she spoke, was soft. But it carried through the courtyard like the calm before a tidal wave.
"You raise weapons against those who protect the innocent," she said, tilting her head. "You should pray the gods are not watching."
The marine dropped the gun and fell to his knees, trembling.
Luffy glanced over and grinned. "Cool."
Zoro, still tied to the cross, managed a weak chuckle. "You two are... something else."
Matsu didn't respond. Her eyes stayed on the wreckage of the wall, where Helmeppo lay in a pile of dust and broken ego.
Somewhere behind them, the town began to stir with something dangerous. Not fear.
Hope.
▃▃ ▃▃ ▃▃
"When Tyrants Fall, the Sea Watches"
The moment Helmeppo's body hit the broken stone, silence fell over Shells Town like a funeral shroud.
But it was not the silence of peace.
It was the silence before rage.
Up on the tower of the marine base, a figure stood like an iron statue—one arm made of cold steel, the other clenched around a massive axe too heavy for any normal man.
Captain Axe-Hand Morgan.
A monolith of ego, dressed in gold-fringed cruelty and the false righteousness of men who confuse power with justice.
He stepped to the edge of the railing, the breeze ruffling his coat like the wings of a carrion bird.
"Who dares lay a hand on my son?" he growled, voice thick with smoke and pride. "Which insect interrupted my rule?"
Down below, Luffy cracked his knuckles, Zoro bit through the rope with the last of his strength, and Matsu simply closed her eyes.
The sea, far off in the distance, began to stir.
The captain leapt from the tower, landing with a thunderous quake, his axe-hand embedding into the ground. The earth trembled.
Behind him, a platoon of trembling marines spilled out of the base. They bore rifles, sabers, and desperation—many had long ago lost the will to follow, but fear is a vicious leash.
Morgan pointed his axe at the trio.
"All of you will die for defying me."
Luffy grinned, tilting his straw hat forward. "Nah. I think you're done yelling."
Zoro dragged one of his swords from the pile. "About time I stretched my arms."
Matsu remained still.
Her long silver hair fluttered in the rising wind. Her bare feet pressed into the earth like she was listening to the heartbeat beneath it.
The first wave came fast.
Marines charged forward like frightened animals forced into violence, bayonets raised, shouting names of orders they barely understood.
Luffy met them with a roar of laughter.
"Gomu Gomu no Pistol!"
His fist stretched wide, snapping through the air like a divine whip, crashing into the front line and sending three men flying. Their bodies landed with soft thuds, unconscious before they hit the ground.
Zoro moved next.
No words—just motion.
A single sword gripped between his teeth, two in his hands. He cut through steel and sweat alike, each slash like wind made solid, his footwork an elegant storm.
Blood sprayed. Steel clanged. Bodies fell.
But it was Matsu the sea truly watched.
One marine lunged toward her—young, scared, screaming as he swung a saber far too heavy for his trembling arms.
Matsu caught it with two fingers.
Her blue eyes opened slowly, glowing faintly.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered.
And with a flick of her wrist, the saber snapped in two—metal cracking like glass touched by frost. The marine stumbled back, breath caught in his throat, his knees collapsing before her.
All around her, the air began to change.
The wind sharpened. The ground dampened.
Clouds crawled across the sky like a living curtain, and the scent of saltwater swirled between buildings where there should have been none.
Matsu stepped forward, hair wild, divine energy radiating like the breath of a coming storm.
A bullet was fired.
She turned her palm, and the bullet stopped mid-air—hovering like a bubble of rain caught in time—then dropped to the ground with a soft chime.
The sea was listening.
And so was Morgan.
With a bellow, Captain Morgan lunged.
"You dare raise power against the Marines?!"
His axe-hand came crashing down like the wrath of a dying empire. Luffy ducked under it, rolling forward as the blade shattered stone.
Zoro leapt from behind, blades gleaming.
Morgan blocked, sparks flying, but Zoro was relentless—each strike pressing deeper, each grunt echoing like thunder.
"You call this justice?" Zoro growled, parrying the axe and twisting around.
Morgan roared, "Justice is what I say it is!"
And then—
Luffy launched himself into the air. "Gomu Gomu no—Bazooka!"
CRACK.
His fists collided with Morgan's chest, the force of it shattering the captain's plated armor and sending him crashing through the marine wall, knocking over his own soldiers like pins.
Dust exploded.
Silence returned—but it was different now.
The town held its breath.
Morgan groaned, half-conscious. His metal axe twitching in the dirt.
The marines stared at the wreckage of their captain, their weapons shaking in their hands—then clattering to the ground in surrender.
One of them whispered, "We're free..."
The words spread like wildfire.
"We're free."
"We're free."
Raindrops began to fall.
Just a few at first, soft as kisses. Then more—fast and sudden. A summer storm, summoned without warning.
Matsu stood beneath it, face turned skyward, rain slicking her silver hair against her cheeks. She didn't move. She only breathed.
Zoro wiped the blood from his blade. "What the hell are you, exactly?"
Luffy laughed, squinting up at her. "She's Matsu. That's all you need to know."
Coby looked at her in awe.
"...She stopped a bullet."
As the rain lightened and the marines tended to their wounded, the townspeople emerged from their homes.
The fog had lifted. Not just from the streets—but from their lives.
Matsu walked alongside Luffy and Zoro toward the edge of town.
She had left the ocean behind.
But it had followed her anyway—in the way the tide rose for her steps, in the way the clouds parted as she passed.
She was no longer a watcher. She was part of this world now.
And the storm... was just beginning.