The RokuoganBrian used was nothing like the one Rob Lucci would one day display in the original timeline.
His version had evolved — refined through countless battles, forged in blood and ambition — its impact power now more than sixty times greater than a conventional shock shell.
Across from him, Kizaru raised a glowing palm.
A sphere of light began to form above it, rapidly condensing until it shone brighter than the morning sun.
"Light Explosion!"
That shimmering orb was composed of densely compressed photons — an impossible concentration of energy, equal to the detonation of over 1,000 tons of TNT.
For reference, one kilogram of TNT equals roughly 200 hand grenades, each carving a crater of 37 square meters.
A thousand tons would wipe a city clean off the map.
Brian's arms bulged, veins flaring.
"Rokuogan!"
And then —
BOOOOOOM!!!
The world vanished in blinding gold.
A deafening roar tore through the sky, followed by a pillar of golden light that pierced the heavens, dyeing the night in molten brilliance.
Even marines stationed several nautical miles away could only gape in stunned silence, their words stolen by the cataclysmic blast.
When the light faded, the island was gone.
Nothing remained but boiling waves and drifting smoke.
High above the sea, two silhouettes clashed midair — Brian and Kizaru, both stripped of pretense.
Their Justice cloaks were shredded, their suits torn to ribbons.
Blood traced the corners of their lips, but neither slowed.
Fists met feet; shockwaves rippled through the air.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound of air splitting and bones colliding echoed like a storm.
They fought for hours, relentless, until dawn finally broke — sunlight glimmering over the waves like a new battlefield.
By then, both were gasping for breath.
Even Kizaru — master of endurance and economy of motion — was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving.
Thud!
Brian drove a kick into Kizaru's guard, forcing him back several meters.
"Fighting midair's too damn exhausting," he muttered between breaths.
Kizaru brushed the sand from his chest where Brian's footprint still lingered.
"Since we've destroyed our arena," he said dryly, "we'll have to find another place next time."
"Fine by me."
Brian smirked, turned, and shot off toward his anchored ship like a cannonball.
The moment Brian was gone, Kizaru's knees bent slightly — and he exhaled, long and slow.
Then he spat out a mouthful of dark blood onto the splintered remains of a tree trunk.
He wiped his lips and chuckled weakly.
"Didn't expect that bastard to grow this strong… If it weren't for the Glint-Glint Fruit, I might've actually died tonight."
Brian's Rokuogan had hit square on — his organs were still screaming from the impact.
But he'd pushed through, trading blows until dawn.
Fortunately, Brian had also been struck by the Light Explosion.
And since Brian relied on constant Geppo to stay airborne, his stamina had drained faster than Kizaru's.
Otherwise, knowing Brian's vindictive nature, he would never have agreed to stop so easily.
By sunrise, Kizaru's flagship returned to where the island once stood — and found only open sea.
"This… this is what a battle between monsters looks like…"
"A single fight erased an entire island!"
"Vice Admiral Kizaru really is a demon!"
"Don't just stand there! Find the Vice Admiral!" the adjutant barked.
Before the sailors could lower the boats, a flash of gold streaked across the horizon.
A figure materialized on deck in a burst of light.
"No need," Kizaru said wearily, "I'm fine."
The crew froze.
"…Fine?"
Their commander stood there half-burned, bloodied, uniform shredded — and still talking like it was a casual stroll.
Spandine scanned the deck nervously, looking for someone else.
"V-Vice Admiral Kizaru, that bastard — I mean, Major General Brian… where is he?"
"He went back," Kizaru replied simply.
"Back? Then the result was…" Spandine pressed, anxious.
Kizaru exhaled, lighting another cigarette with trembling fingers.
"Let's call it a draw.
But next time… who knows? The man keeps getting stronger.
He's forcing me to do the same."
The crew traded shocked looks.
They knew how strong Kizaru was — to them, he was a walking natural disaster.
If even he called it a draw, what did that make Brian?
Kizaru smiled faintly.
"A draw's the only way it could end.
If either of us went all in, the result… well…" He trailed off, sunglasses reflecting the sea.
Spandine swallowed. "Wh-what would the result be?"
Kizaru's voice turned distant.
"One of us would be crippled for life — or dead.
So until either of us can guarantee a clean kill, we'll hold back.
That's the unspoken rule."
Spandine's legs gave out. "He's… that strong?"
Kizaru clapped him lightly on the shoulder, voice almost amused.
"That's why I warned you — don't mess with Brian.
He's a petty, dangerous man.
If you stand in the way of his ambition, he'll remove you — quietly, efficiently.
Poison in your food, a drugged courtesan at your bedside…
He'll make it look like an accident, or worse, like fate."
Drip. Drip.
Kizaru paused. His brow furrowed. The officers beside him glanced down.
The smell hit them first.
Spandine stood trembling, eyes wide with terror — his pants dark and wet.
He hadn't even realized he'd lost control.
A silence fell over the deck.
The great Director of CP9 had just wet himself.
Back aboard his own ship, Brian sat slouched in his chair, face pale, breath uneven.
It wasn't exhaustion — it was the aftermath of Kizaru's light explosion tearing through his body.
"That damned monkey…" he muttered, clenching his fists until his knuckles cracked.
"I underestimated how far he'd pushed that Devil Fruit."
He'd thought the Glint-Glint Fruit was only about speed — nothing Observation Haki couldn't track.
His plan had been simple: anticipate, counter, overwhelm with superior physique and stamina.
Wear him down, then crush him.
But Kizaru's growth had exceeded every calculation — his physical strength, his endurance, his explosiveness.
If not for Brian's lifetime of relentless body training, he might have been the one lying broken at the bottom of the sea.
He exhaled slowly, eyes darkening.
"Seems I'll need a Devil Fruit of my own."
A thin smile crept across his lips — cold and sharp.
New plans were already forming.
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