For the past few days, Jin Akasa had been living the sort of life most men could only dream about.
After the thunder trial nearly killed him, the days that followed were nothing short of blissful punishment. Makino refused to let him lift a finger. Kuina temporarily put her sword aside to help care for him. And Hina… Hina was on an unstoppable mission to find the best food on the island, experimenting with ingredients and recipes as if cooking itself were an act of revenge against the heavens that dared to hurt him.
To say Jin was spoiled would be an understatement.
"Ahh… now this is what I call recovery," Jin murmured, sprawled out under the golden sunset, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "If this is the price for getting hit by lightning, then I might just volunteer for round two."
He stretched, bones cracking satisfyingly, and exhaled in pure contentment. Three days had passed since the ordeal, and the external wounds were nearly gone. The crimson medicine Makino had brewed from his personal stock was ferocious in both effect and taste—its searing heat had almost burned him from the inside out—but it worked miracles. His body, cells, and internal force had all grown stronger.
He could feel it: the thunder hadn't just scarred him. It had reforged him.
Sitting up slightly, Jin crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and allowed the flow of energy to circulate through his meridians. The Inner Force coursed through him in a smooth, refined cycle. It wasn't as vast as before, but it was purer, denser, and far more potent.
"Not bad," he murmured under his breath. "Almost worth getting barbecued."
He chuckled quietly, then sighed. "Almost."
Every memory of that storm still sent a ripple of pain through his body. He'd been on the edge of death, staring into the wrath of the heavens, and for a brief moment… he had smiled.
It was insane. But it was also him.
Makino's soft voice carried from the porch. "You shouldn't be sitting out here shirtless when the sun's setting. The breeze will catch you."
He cracked one eye open. "Come on, I'm tougher than that."
She appeared in the doorway, arms folded, the light behind her making her hair glow auburn gold. "I know. That's why it's my job to make sure you don't test that theory again."
Her tone was scolding, but the warmth in her eyes betrayed her worry. She came closer and sat beside him, her hand instinctively reaching to brush the faint lightning-shaped scar along his collarbone.
Jin winced. "Still tender."
"Then don't move so much."
"I wasn't moving!"
She gave him a look that made him surrender immediately.
From the kitchen window, Hina's voice floated out, teasing. "If you two are done flirting, maybe you could help me taste this stew before it burns!"
Makino flushed a soft pink, standing up quickly. "You could just ask nicely, Hina!"
"I did!"
Kuina's calm voice joined in. "No, you didn't."
Makino sighed. "Every day in this house is chaos."
Jin grinned. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
He leaned back on his elbows, the faint laughter of the three women drifting around him. His heart felt strangely full. After everything—blood, thunder, and the blade that nearly killed him—this quiet warmth was almost alien. He could get used to it.
But elsewhere in the world, the peace that Jin enjoyed was an anomaly.
Far across the seas, on the Grand Line, the fortress city of Marineford gleamed in the light of the setting sun. Seagulls wheeled over the white towers, and the waves crashed rhythmically against the docks.
Inside the tall marble building of the Navy Headquarters, a sharp knock echoed through the heavy oak door.
"Enter," came a low, firm voice.
The door opened, and a young marine stepped in briskly, saluting with a folder in hand. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku, sir. The latest report from East Blue. It's the file you requested."
Sengoku set aside his paperwork and took the folder. His brows furrowed the moment he began to read.
"…This is all they found?"
"Y-Yes, sir," the marine stammered. "Our East Blue division did their best, but… many of the agents sent to investigate disappeared. No signals, no reports. These are the only documents that reached us."
Sengoku exhaled slowly, irritation flickering across his usually stoic face. "And they're asking for reinforcements?"
"Yes, Fleet Admiral. They claim the operation has cost them heavily."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Forget it. There's no need to waste more lives. That ship—the Eternal—won't stay in East Blue much longer."
The marine saluted again, relieved to be dismissed. "Understood, sir."
When the door closed, Sengoku leaned back in his chair and let the folder drop to the floor. A small bell jingled as a plump white goat wandered over, sniffed the paper, and began to chew contentedly.
"Useless reports," Sengoku muttered. "A storm over Cocoyashi Village. Black lightning. Missing agents. Every witness either dead or too terrified to speak…"
He rubbed his temples. "And that name again—Jin Akasa. A swordsman who split a mountain and survived the wrath of heaven. Just what are you, boy?"
He wasn't one for superstition, but something about this man made his instincts itch.
"Half the agents we sent never returned," he murmured darkly. "A single man shouldn't be capable of that. Yet the signs all point to him."
As he brooded, a knock sounded again—two lazy taps. Before Sengoku could reply, the door swung open.
A tall man strolled in, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed. His black hair curled beneath a green sleep mask resting on his forehead. His white suit vest hung loosely over a navy shirt, and a chill of sea breeze seemed to follow him.
"Yo," said Kuzan, the newly promoted admiral. "Heard you were looking for me."
Sengoku glanced up. "You didn't even wait for permission to enter."
"Ah, you know me," Kuzan said, scratching his neck as he sat down on the sofa uninvited. "Doors, formality—it's all so much work."
Sengoku sighed. "You've been spending too much time with Garp."
"Can't argue with that," Kuzan said with a lazy grin.
Sengoku leaned forward. "Then I'll make this simple. I want you to test someone."
Kuzan's relaxed eyes sharpened slightly. "Test?"
"Yes. A man recently emerged from East Blue. Not a pirate, but dangerous nonetheless. I want you to gauge his strength."
"Not a pirate?" Kuzan asked, tilting his head. "Then who—ah." A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "You're talking about that guy, aren't you? Jin Akasa."
Sengoku's gaze narrowed. "You've heard of him."
"Garp wouldn't shut up about him," Kuzan replied, stretching his arms. "Called him 'a monster with a blade and a brain.' And when Garp calls someone a monster, you know it's not an exaggeration."
"Which is exactly why I want him assessed," Sengoku said. "If he's as strong as the reports suggest, he could become a threat—or an opportunity. Either way, I need to know."
Kuzan leaned back, sighing. "You're not serious about sending me, right?"
Sengoku's silence was answer enough.
Kuzan groaned. "Come on, Fleet Admiral, don't make that face. You know how this ends. I go poking around, find your 'dangerous man,' maybe trade a few punches, and next thing you know, he decides I'm his mortal enemy. Why would I volunteer for that?"
Sengoku frowned. "You're an admiral now. This is your duty."
"It's also my duty," Kuzan countered, "not to get myself killed over a report that says 'possibly dangerous.' That's like inviting a volcano to tea and hoping it doesn't erupt."
Sengoku's brow twitched. "Are you refusing a direct order?"
"Not refusing," Kuzan said with a grin. "Just… postponing until it makes sense."
The goat bleated softly beside them, chewing on the shredded report. Kuzan reached down and scratched its head. "See? Even he thinks this is a bad idea."
Sengoku pinched the bridge of his nose. "Kuzan, sometimes I wonder how you became an admiral."
"By being clever," Kuzan replied. "And by not doing stupid things like fighting people who can call down black lightning."
Sengoku stared at him for a long moment. Then, despite himself, he sighed and leaned back. "You're infuriatingly reasonable."
Kuzan stood, giving a lazy salute. "That's my charm. I'll keep an eye on him from a distance. If he moves toward the Grand Line, I'll know."
"And if he causes trouble?"
Kuzan's expression turned serious for the first time. "Then I'll handle it. But if he's smart, he won't."
Sengoku watched as Kuzan turned to leave, his footsteps quiet. "Kuzan."
The admiral paused at the door.
"…Be careful. Something about that man feels wrong."
Kuzan smiled faintly, one hand on the doorframe. "Wrong or right, I guess I'll find out—eventually."
He stepped out, letting the door close softly behind him.
Back in East Blue, the evening sky bled into shades of violet and gold.
Jin lay in the grass outside Makino's tavern, the Black Dragon Fang resting beside him. Its dark blade shimmered faintly in the fading light.
He traced a finger along the hilt, feeling the pulse beneath the steel—a heartbeat, faint but alive. The weapon hummed softly, almost as if it understood him.
"Guess you and I are stuck together now," he murmured. "Try not to kill me next time, alright?"
The blade remained silent, but a faint glimmer of red rippled along its surface, as though acknowledging his words.
From the doorway, Makino watched him, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.
Kuina and Hina joined her, the three women standing side by side as the man who defied heaven stared up at the stars.
Somewhere far beyond those same stars, the world government was already whispering his name.
And in the cold halls of Marineford, an admiral had just decided—
that the smartest move was to stay out of Jin Akasa's way.
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T/N :
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