10 months later- - East blue-
Sea Calander:- 1520.
"The Grim Reaper Comes at Dusk"
A tale whispered through the taverns of East Blue.
---
The island was quiet that evening — too quiet for a place filled with outlaws.
Seagulls had long since fled, and even the wind seemed to crawl.
At the center of a forgotten cove, the Grim Fang Pirates celebrated their latest raid. Barrels of rum cracked open, meat roasted on fires built from broken crates, and laughter echoed under the red-orange sky.
Their captain, Vexlan "RED VANE" Crowe, sat atop a driftwood throne. His long crimson coat draped over the sides like spilled blood. A jagged scar ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear, and his golden hook caught the last light of the setting sun.
Ten million berries on his head — and worth every coin in cruelty.
"Drink, you dogs!" Vexlan bellowed, slamming a jug on the table. "Tomorrow, we hit another trade route. Maybe even rob a Marine convoy if we're lucky!"
His men howled in cheer, the sound of arrogance and ignorance alike.
Then, one of them froze mid-laugh.
The air had changed.
_
The fire flickered. The forest seemed to exhale, long and heavy.
From between the trees came a sound — not a footstep, not quite. More like the rustle of death itself brushing against leaves.
And then he appeared.
A tall figure, black coat brushing the ground, a simple katana resting loosely at his hip. His eyes — violet with a faint glint of silver — didn't look like they belonged to a man. They looked like calm water over a corpse.
Ash. The Grim Reaper.
The name alone was enough to make three pirates choke on their drinks.
Every man in East Blue had heard it.
A bounty hunter who worked alone, whose blade cut through fifty pirate flags in a single year.
A ghost in human skin.
Even Marines whispered of him — the man who walks before death does.
---
Vexlan rose, slowly. His smirk didn't reach his eyes. "Heh. Didn't think the Reaper was real."
Ash's voice came soft, distant. "I didn't think a 10-million bounty would hide in plain sight."
The captain barked a laugh. "You've got guts, kid."
Ash tilted his head. "No," he said quietly. "Just a list."
---
Vexlan's men surged forward at once — fifty blades flashing, pistols drawn.
The camp exploded into chaos.
Ash stepped forward, hand resting on his hilt. The moment his thumb nudged the guard—
SHING—!
A silver line carved the air.
One pirate dropped. Then another. Then five.
A heartbeat later, the first scream caught up to the moment.
Ash's blade gleamed faintly blue in the firelight.
"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash."
He moved through them like liquid shadow — steps soundless, sword arcs perfect.
Where others fought, Ash simply moved. Every swing connected before the enemy even finished their shout.
A bullet fired.
Ash tilted his head — it grazed past his hair.
He flicked his wrist. The same bullet buried itself in the shooter's throat before his finger left the trigger.
He exhaled softly, breath forming faint mist despite the heat.
Three pirates rushed him with axes. He spun low.1
"Second Form: Water Wheel."
His blade spiraled upward, a whirl of gleaming water and steel.
Their bodies fell in halves before they hit the ground.
Blood sprayed across his coat, but he didn't slow. His expression never changed.
He looked almost bored — like a craftsman at work.
"Don't just stand there! Surround him!" shouted one pirate.
Ash sighed, blade sliding back into stance. "You really want to die for ten million berries?"
They screamed and charged anyway.
Ash's eyes sharpened — a faint glow behind the calm.
He shifted his stance, feet sliding slightly apart.
"Sixth Form: Whirlpool."
The air distorted. A spiral of cutting wind and sword slashes erupted around him, sucking in everything nearby. Pirates screamed as the vortex tore through their ranks — limbs, weapons, and courage alike.
When the storm settled, half the crew lay scattered, groaning or motionless.
Ash flicked the blood off his blade in one graceful motion.
"Still breathing?" he murmured, glancing around.
A trembling hand rose weakly from the dirt — then went still.
"ENOUGH!"
Vexlan's voice roared like a cannon blast.
The surviving pirates scrambled back as their captain stepped forward, veins bulging, face twisted in fury.
"I'm worth ten million for a reason, you damn phantom!"
He slammed his golden hook into the dirt. It shimmered — then exploded into molten red metal.
The blast threw sand and fire in every direction. Ash slid back, boots grinding against the ground as the shockwave passed.
When the smoke cleared, Vexlan was wrapped in a crimson aura, steam rising from his body.
"Devil Fruit…" Ash muttered. "Interesting."
"Melt-Melt Fruit," Vexlan grinned, spreading his arms. "Everything I touch burns to slag. Including your bones."
He charged — faster than a cannon shot. The molten hook slashed in a wide arc, melting the earth itself.
Ash ducked under it, countered — CLANG! — sparks burst.
Vexlan twisted, his hook whipping around like a snake. It grazed Ash's coat, instantly burning the edge black.
The hunter leaped back, eyes narrowing. "So the hook melts anything it touches…"
He crouched low, muscles coiled.
"Then I won't let it touch me."
Vexlan swung again — wild, furious, beautiful in destruction.
Ash parried each strike with minimal effort, the rhythm almost serene.
Every clang rang like music — water against flame.
Vexlan snarled, "Why won't you die, you damned ghost!?"
Ash stepped sideways, letting the molten hook pass inches from his neck.
"Because death," he said calmly, "works for me."
He drew a deep breath.
"Water Breathing… Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin."
He leaped high — katana flashing downward in a single crashing strike. The impact shattered Vexlan's molten shield, the force sending waves of steam outward.
Vexlan fell to one knee, gasping, hook dripping molten metal.
"You talk too much," Ash said softly.
He sheathed his blade halfway.
"Let me return the favor."
The next sound was a whisper — "Tenth Form: Constant Flux."
A torrent of movement.
Ash's body flowed like a river, twisting, turning — each step another form, another strike.
His blade carved luminous arcs through the air, glowing faintly blue with every rotation.
Vexlan tried to block — once, twice, ten times — but the speed was beyond mortal rhythm.
By the time he realized what was happening, his coat was in tatters, his hook cracked, his body covered in shallow slashes.
Ash appeared behind him, sword raised, breath steady.
Vexlan's voice trembled, half laughter, half despair. "Heh… Guess they weren't lying about the Reaper."
Ash's eyes softened — just slightly. "They weren't."
The blade fell.
SHHHHINK—
The world went silent.
Vexlan's head tilted. His golden hook hit the ground with a metallic thud.
He dropped seconds later, the life fading from his crimson eyes.
___to be continued ___