Madam Shyarly's lips trembled, as if she were on the verge of crying out. Her deep blue eyes, which possessed the mystical ability to glimpse the shifting trajectories of fate, were now clouded with a heavy mix of emotions. She felt a surge of helplessness and irritation toward her brother's reckless nature, but beneath that was a profound, aching sadness. It was as if she had already witnessed the dark end he was rapidly approaching.
She knew Arlong better than anyone. His stubborn, deep-seated hatred for humans would never simply vanish after a single setback or a bruised ego. Instead, she feared that his failure would only act as fuel for his inner fire, pushing him toward a point of no return.
Her grim premonition manifested into reality almost instantly.
"Cough... cough, cough!"
A series of pained, hacking coughs echoed from the pile of rubble that littered the street.
The heavy debris embedded against the coral wall began to rattle and shift. Suddenly, a large, blue-scaled hand with thick webbing between the fingers thrust out from the wreckage, gripping a jagged edge of broken stone. Under the stunned gazes of the onlookers, Arlong dragged himself out of the ruins. He looked utterly defeated and disheveled.
His blue skin was caked in dust and marked by deep abrasions. His iconic, serrated nose looked slightly crooked, and a thin trail of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. It was clear to everyone that Takuro's casual, almost effortless strike had inflicted significant internal damage on the Fish-Man. However, Arlong's eyes did not reflect the fear one might expect from a Tier 1 fighter facing a superior opponent. Instead, they burned with a frantic, humiliated rage that bordered on insanity.
"Brother Arlong!" one subordinate shouted.
"Brother, are you okay?" another called out with clear concern in his voice.
Arlong ignored them, his body racking with more coughs. "Bastard... human!" he spat, squeezing the words through gritted teeth. Every syllable was heavy with a lifetime of resentment. He fixed a murderous glare on Takuro, who remained perfectly composed near the entrance of the coffee shop. With a violent motion, Arlong tore away his ruined clothing, baring his muscular upper body. His veins bulged like thick cords beneath his scales as his Ki flared in a chaotic, uncontrolled manner.
"I'm going to... kill you!"
With a primal roar, Arlong slammed his feet down, causing the shell-paved ground to shatter into a web of cracks. He launched himself forward like a bolt from a heavy crossbow, charging at Takuro with everything he had left. In this moment, he pushed the innate physical strength of the Fish-Man race and his own boiling fury to their absolute limits. He brought the fingers of his right hand together, his arm muscles swelling to twice their normal size. He unleashed his most lethal technique, a move meant to end the fight in a single, bloody heartbeat.
"Shark on Darts!"
His body began to spin at a terrifying speed, turning him into a living torpedo. His serrated nose acted as a high-speed drill bit, a biological weapon aimed directly at Takuro's heart. He was determined to pierce through the human's chest and reclaim his pride.
"Arlong! No! Stop this right now!" Shyarly screamed. She lunged forward, desperate to intervene, but Arlong was moving far too fast. Her plea was swallowed by the whistling wind generated by his high-speed rotation. Through her foresight, she could "see" the outcome. If this attack landed, or if it further provoked the man standing before them, Arlong would lose far more than just a fight. The vision of what was to come made her heart feel as though it were shattering in her chest.
Nearby, Gion and Robin tensed up. Even though they were far more experienced, they could feel the destructive force packed into Arlong's desperate charge. It was a level of power that far exceeded any other Fish-Man on the street. Gion instinctively shifted into a defensive stance, her hand hovering near her blade, though her mind told her that Takuro was in no real danger.
Facing the incoming "drill" that would have killed any normal Marine recruit, Takuro merely raised an eyebrow. His expression remained bored, his Ki completely calm and centered.
"Tsk, this really never ends, does it?"
Just as Arlong's serrated nose was inches away from his chest, Takuro moved. He didn't bother to dodge or use a complex counter-technique. He simply reached out with his right hand in a direct, no-nonsense motion. He had started his movement long after Arlong, yet his hand arrived at its destination first.
Crack!
The sound was sharp and echoed through the silent street.
Takuro's palm had clamped down on Arlong's nose. It was a perfect, iron-clad grip that instantly halted the high-speed rotation. It looked as though time itself had frozen. Arlong's forward momentum vanished in an instant, his lethal "Shark on Darts" neutralized by a single hand. The frantic rage on Arlong's face died away, replaced by a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. He felt as if his nose—his most prideful weapon—had been caught in a mountain. No matter how much he strained his muscles or tried to exert his strength, he couldn't move a single inch.
Takuro held him there, pinching the massive Fish-Man's nose as if he were handling a cheap toy. His eyes were cold, devoid of any empathy.
"You're really starting to get on my nerves," Takuro said quietly.
Before the sentence was even finished, Takuro's arm flexed.
Snap!
A bone-chilling sound rang out, sickeningly clear to everyone watching.
"Ugh, AHHHH—!"
Arlong let out a shrill, piercing scream that tore through the air. The pain was blinding, white-hot, and absolute. With a casual flick of his wrist, Takuro had snapped off a section of the hardened, serrated nose that Arlong valued above all else. But the human wasn't finished. Using the grip he still had on the broken appendage, Takuro swung his arm down like he was discarding a heavy sack of trash.
BOOM!
Arlong's massive frame was slammed into the ground with irresistible force. The impact was far more violent than the first time he had been thrown. The coffee shop trembled, and the street itself seemed to buckle. The ground, paved with decorative shells and coral, collapsed into a shallow crater, with deep cracks spreading out like a spiderweb. Arlong lay in the center of the pit, his body convulsing in shock. Blood poured from his mouth and his mangled nose. He tried to struggle, his fingers twitching in the dust, but he couldn't even find the strength to lift himself. He could only manage pathetic, wet groans. For the first time in his life, his eyes were filled with nothing but boundless fear and despair.
"Brother!"
Madam Shyarly let out a mournful, heart-wrenching cry. Forgetting her own safety and dignity, she rushed into the crater and collapsed at Arlong's side. She looked up at Takuro, her eyes swimming with tears, her voice trembling as she pleaded for mercy.
"Lord Takuro... please... I beg you, spare his life! He's already... he's already beaten...".
"Shut... up!" Arlong growled hoarsely. His voice was thick with blood and distorted by the agony of his broken face, but it still carried a terrifying ferocity. "Don't you dare cry... Shyarly!"
He struggled to breathe, each word sounding like it was being squeezed out of a pair of collapsing lungs. "We are... Fish-Men... even if we die here..." he wheezed, the taste of copper filling his mouth. "We will never... fawn over humans! Don't beg him! Do you hear me? Don't you ever beg a human!".
Though his voice was weak, it was filled with the madness of a dying animal that refused to give up its pride.
"Why... how can this be? We Fish-Men are... we are a superior race! We are naturally stronger than any human! How could I lose... to a mere human like you!"
He nearly choked on his own blood as he roared those final words. This belief—this idea of racial superiority—was the foundation of his entire existence. It was the root of his hatred and the source of his strength. Now, that foundation was being pulverized into dust along with his bones. To Arlong, this crushing defeat was a fate far more unbearable than the physical pain of his injuries.
Takuro, who had already begun to turn away, stopped in his tracks.
He slowly turned back toward the broken Fish-Man lying in the dirt. For the first time since the encounter began, his face showed genuine emotion: a clear, sharp impatience. He looked irritated, like a man who was being persistently bothered by a buzzing fly that refused to be swatted away.
Ever since he had set foot on Fish-Man Island, he had heard the same words over and over again. "Human," "lowly human," "detestable human." It was as if being human was some kind of inherent flaw or a synonym for weakness. He had listened to it in the streets, in the shops, and now from the mouth of this broken warrior. He was thoroughly, completely fed up with hearing it.
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I've started a new book: One Piece: The Scumbag Justice System.
If you enjoy my other works, check it out as well. This story follows a Marine who grows stronger by breaking naval regulations, backed by a unique system that rewards chaos within justice.
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