Brook ignored Trafalgar Hobbs' plea. He didn't have the time or patience to deal with weaklings. Once Antonio and the reporter Pulitzer confirmed the situation, Kaido led the capture, taking the entire Trafalgar family—including their servants—without hesitation.
Crocus seized their medical books, eager to study North Sea medicine, while Stussy ordered her subordinates to ransack the manor, stripping the wealthy family of their treasures.
The Hell Pirates came and left swiftly, leaving behind only pamphlets on amber-lead disease. The residents of Frevans prayed for divine mercy, while others whispered pity for the abducted Trafalgar family. Their sympathy, however, quickly turned to greed—neighbors flooded into the empty mansion, "safeguarding" whatever valuables were left behind.
"Brother Brook," Antonio whispered, clutching a folder of intelligence reports, "the King of Germa 66 wants us to keep this alliance secret. They're willing to cooperate, but as a World Government member state, they can't risk their position."
Brook's expression didn't change. Antonio, however, was irritated. "What kind of kingdom is it that doesn't even have land? How dare they try to negotiate as equals with the Hell Pirates? Two hundred years ago they unified the North Sea for barely sixty-six days, and they still boast about it."
He couldn't help but sneer. "Now they're just mercenaries living on sea snails, selling war to whoever pays the most. Calling themselves a 'kingdom' is an insult to the word."
Indeed, the Vinsmoke family's greatest glory lasted only sixty-six days before being crushed by a coalition of kingdoms. They had lost everything—territory, sovereignty, and honor. From then on, their kingdom drifted upon massive snails, earning their infamous name: Germa 66.
At this time, Vinsmoke Judge had yet to study under Vegapunk. Cloning, gene manipulation, and artificial soldiers were still dreams he couldn't realize. Germa's forces were nothing more than an aging mercenary army despised throughout the seas.
In Brook's eyes, they had no right to negotiate.
"Tell Vinsmoke to hand over their snail-breeding technology," Brook said flatly. "If they comply, they can send their prince, Judge, to join Vegapunk's research division. If not, they can wait for extinction."
A sinister grin crossed his face. "Even Judge, when he revives Germa in the future, relies on Vegapunk's discarded notes. Germa 66 is worthless."
Antonio smirked. "Understood, Captain. We'll handle this trash. It's not worth your time."
After leaving Frevans, the golden ship soared toward the wandering fleet of Germa 66. When the World Government learned that the Hell Pirates had entered the Four Seas, they panicked. The Navy couldn't intercept them—nor could they win against them.
In the New World, Rocks' rampage had drawn most of the Navy's strength away. He was attacking allied nations, leaving the frontlines stretched thin. The Marines had no choice but to watch helplessly as Brook's crew operated freely.
Fortunately, Brook did not harm civilians. Had he unleashed his fury, the World Government's authority would have crumbled completely, its reputation reduced to dust.
Even Uranus couldn't locate them. Though powerful, the ancient weapon required coordinates and immense energy to fire. Against Brook's elusive golden ship, which constantly shifted position, it was blind.
Germa 66's own nomadic nature helped them conceal their meeting. Their floating kingdom moved constantly, its position changing with the tides.
King Vinsmoke trembled before the Hell Pirates' might. Fearing annihilation, he agreed to Brook's demands. The technology to cultivate and control giant snails was surrendered, and his son, the young Judge, was delivered to Vegapunk's research team aboard the golden ship.
The king's face turned pale as he signed the agreement. Once the Hell Pirates began mass-producing those massive snails, Germa's involvement would be impossible to hide. The World Government would brand them as traitors, revoke their membership, and order their extermination.
But what choice did he have?
Against Brook's overwhelming power, Germa 66 was nothing but an insect before a storm.
If destruction was inevitable, then dying alongside Brook might be the only path left for survival.
---
Brook crossed off another name on his list. His search for the D clan and useful allies was progressing well, but he was far from satisfied. The next phase would be far more critical.
Reports had yet to reach him about a certain rising monster—Sakazuki. The young man's whereabouts remained hidden, and even Brook's network in the underworld had failed to locate him.
Perhaps he had gone underground intentionally, concealing his name. Or perhaps someone else was already sheltering him.
Regardless, they would find him soon enough.
For now, the next target was clear: Borsalino, the man who would one day be known as Kizaru.
Brook's interest wasn't in his current strength, but his potential. How powerful could Borsalino become without the Light-Light Fruit?
Both he and Sakazuki had once been called monsters under Zephyr's command.
As Brook knew, devil fruits drained stamina, especially the Logia type. Without a strong physique, a user couldn't last long in battle. Borsalino's rise to admiral wasn't merely because of his fruit—it was because his body could withstand its immense strain.
Ordinary pirates who stumbled upon such a power would have been captured, executed, and recycled by the World Government. But Borsalino endured, mastering both speed and precision.
People often mocked his fighting style as lazy or sluggish, repeating Zephyr's criticism that Kizaru lacked dedication to physical combat. Yet those who truly understood power knew the truth.
Borsalino was a monster who simply hid his claws. His swordsmanship rivaled that of Dark King Rayleigh, and even Zephyr—his own mentor—had fallen to his blade after retirement.
Anyone who believed the rumors of weakness would be the first to die facing his light.
---
On a quiet island in the North Sea, Borsalino trained alone in his courtyard. His movements were swift, his twin wooden swords cutting the air in bursts of speed.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as the wooden blades sliced through invisible targets. His technique favored fluidity and precision—each motion graceful, almost effortless.
He was no noble, but his family lived comfortably. His parents supported his martial pursuits, encouraging both study and swordsmanship.
After an hour of practice, Borsalino rested beneath a tree, stretching lazily. He was gifted beyond measure—his body strong, his instincts sharp. Whatever he learned, he mastered instantly.
That divine talent made him careless, even indolent. It was the same attitude Zephyr would later despise.
But no one in their right mind underestimated Borsalino.
He was born extraordinary.
Just as he was about to call it a day, the light dimmed. A shadow fell over the yard.
He looked up, frowning. The sky was covered in gold.
And there, above his home, a massive golden ship hovered silently—its hull glinting like the sun itself.
Borsalino's eyes widened.
"What… is that?"
------------
The sudden appearance of the golden ship froze Borsalino in place. His scalp tingled, his heart raced, and every hair on his body stood on end.
He hadn't joined the Navy yet, but he certainly didn't want to become a pirate. The name of the Hell Pirates was enough to send chills down anyone's spine.
Rumor had it that the ruler of the New World, Brook, traveled the seas in search of prodigies with extraordinary potential. Kaido, the Beast King himself, had been one of those recruits—a man Brook discovered and molded into a Conqueror's Haki wielder with limitless potential.
Could Brook have come for him this time?
No, impossible. He didn't want that kind of life.
Maybe the ship was just passing by. Maybe it would leave. But as the golden vessel hovered directly above his house, Borsalino's last hope vanished.
He wanted a quiet life—a stable job, a steady schedule, a peaceful routine. Nine to five, meals on time, sleep on time. That was his dream. Not blood, not war, not glory.
Then he saw him—Brook, the overlord of the New World, standing on the deck of his radiant ship, staring down with a smile that could melt mountains and freeze souls alike.
"Eh? Why's he smiling at me like that?" Borsalino thought in terror. "No way… does he like me?!"
He panicked, his mind spinning, his thoughts turning absurd.
Desperation struck, and in the next moment, Borsalino made the most bizarre decision of his life. His eyes crossed, drool slipped from his lips, he bit his own finger, waved his wooden sword in circles, and stared up with a foolish grin.
The mighty prodigy of the North Sea had become a caricature of an idiot.
Brook stared for two seconds—then burst out laughing. The golden ship echoed with the sound of his booming, ghostly laughter. Without hesitation, he took out a photo Den Den Mushi and a video Den Den Mushi, capturing the scene in full detail.
"Yohohoho! Magnificent!" Brook laughed as he snapped the picture. "What a face! Perfect for my collection!"
Borsalino froze mid-act, realizing what had just happened. "Wait, what are you doing?! You're the overlord of the New World—why are you wasting time on stupid things like this?!"
Brook ignored him, laughing until his ribs rattled.
Realizing his act was useless, Borsalino feigned panic and bolted inside. His parents, trembling behind the door, were speechless. "Why would the overlord of the New World come to our home?"
Kaido, watching from behind Brook, scratched his head. "Brother Brook, this wretched kid… you're serious? He's supposed to have great potential? He looks like a complete fool!"
Brook smiled faintly. "Don't judge by appearances. The lazier and stranger they look, the more terrifying they are when pushed to their limit."
Kaido snorted. "Tch. If this kid's supposed to match me, the world's in trouble."
He'd recently beaten Kozuki Oden half to death and was eager for another worthy opponent, but looking at the awkward young man below, he lost all interest. "Forget it. I'll stick to fighting Oden. At least he looks like a man."
"Go down there," Brook said calmly. "Don't let the family escape."
The Hell Pirates descended. Their shadows darkened the yard. Inside the small house, Borsalino and his parents huddled together.
Moments later, Brook landed silently before them. His towering figure, shrouded in black, radiated an aura of authority that filled the entire room.
"Yohoho~ Don't be nervous," he said with his eerie laughter. "I think this kid has potential. I came here specifically for him. You have two choices: make Borsalino my apprentice… or my disciple."
He began to look around the house, noting the navigation manuals and maps scattered across the desk. One book caught his eye—filled with neat handwriting, margin notes, and diagrams.
"Hm. So you study navigation," Brook mused. "Diligent."
Borsalino's parents exchanged frightened glances, whispering frantically. They knew what would happen if they refused.
If they declined Brook's offer, they wouldn't live to see another sunrise. But if they accepted, their son would be bound to a pirate crew—perhaps the most feared in history.
To become Brook's disciple meant pledging life and soul to the Hell Pirates. There would be no escape, no turning back. But under Brook's protection, they'd never have to fear the Navy or other pirates again.
On the other hand, becoming a mere trainee offered a sliver of hope—perhaps, someday, Borsalino could return to an ordinary life. But with the Hell Pirates' unmatched power, who could imagine them ever falling?
His parents wanted him to become Brook's disciple. If they couldn't resist, they might as well secure their future with the strongest backing possible.
Borsalino, however, wanted none of it. The title of "disciple of the New World Overlord" sounded exhausting. Constant battles, endless attention—no rest, no comfort. It was the opposite of the quiet life he wanted.
But there was no room to argue.
His parents, pale and trembling, bowed before Brook and made the decision for him.
"Please… make our son your disciple."
Brook nodded. "Wise choice. He'll thank you one day."
And so, Borsalino, the boy who dreamed of a peaceful life, was dragged into the chaotic world of pirates.
By the end of that day, he became Brook's second disciple—junior to Kozuki Oden, yet bound by the same fate. From then on, he would be hunted by the Navy, challenged by pirates, and watched by the entire world.
There would be no rest. No peace.
Only power, and the burden that came with it.
"Yohohoho~ Welcome aboard, Borsalino," Brook said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll shine brighter than you think."
"Tired…" Borsalino muttered under his breath. "So tired…"
He didn't want this life, but life had already made the choice for him.
As the golden ship rose back into the sky, leaving the North Sea behind, the World Government quickly investigated the abductions of the Trafalgar and Borsalino families. Their agents found nothing unusual.
Could Brook really see the future? How did he know which individuals would one day shake the world?
No one knew.
But everyone agreed on one thing—anyone personally chosen by Brook was destined for greatness.
All over the world, young men and women began to dream. They prayed for the day the golden ship would descend upon their homes, to take them away—to glory, to legend, to the peak of the world.
Meanwhile, the golden ship drifted toward the horizon. It could cross the Red Line toward the East Blue, return to the New World, or glide over the Calm Belt toward the West Sea.
But their destination lay in the South Sea. They could first head for the East Sea to deal with the Monk family, then sail on toward the South, or pass through Reverse Mountain to reach the Four Seas directly.
In the end, the path of the golden ship remained a mystery—its movements utterly unpredictable to both the World Government and the Navy
[TL: You can also check out my newly released fanfic, Bleach: Ichigo Takes Over the Soul Society – just visit my profile if you want to read it.]
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