Cocoyashi Village— Arlong Park Courtyard
The ground quaked beneath Fuwako's tiny talons as the cyclone tightened into a spinning wall of wind around them — a miniature hurricane in the shape of a bird. The air screamed against stone; broken tiles scraped free and whirled into the storm like snapping teeth.
Fuwako didn't think.
Couldn't think.
Instinct had taken control — the kind that lived at the back of the skull, behind language. Not words. Not strategy.
Survive.
Hunt.
Protect the flock.
Punish the predator.
It was older than fear. Older than thought.
The stonefish fishman braced himself, claws carving trenches through the cracked courtyard. Wind slashed his skin; sparks danced where it hit spikes.
He stared at the storm gathering above the tiny creature… and for the first time, uncertainty bloomed in his eyes.
"What are you?" he muttered — as if naming Fuwako might help him control the dread crawling up his spine.
Fuwako didn't understand the question. Their thoughts were snapshots — flashing between memories of Nami crying and the cold sting of poison spreading under feathers.
Pain.
Abandonment.
Rage.
Protect.
Attack.
Destroy.
Lightning burst overhead — jagged strokes of white fury ripping across the sky like claws.
Then another—
Then another—
And another—
Each flash synced with the frantic, pounding rhythm of Fuwako's heartbeat.
The storm wasn't following orders.
It was answering emotion.
The fishman roared—shoving fear back behind anger—and charged. Spikes tore through the air as he swung with a wide arc meant to split the bird in two.
Fuwako shot upward with a gust-assisted leap—barely clearing the strike.
Their injured wing lagged.
Muscles twitched.
Poison throbbed like a pulse of fire.
They should have dropped.
But storms don't fall.
CRACK—BOOOOM!!
A lightning bolt speared the fishman's shoulder before he even finished turning, blackening spikes and snapping his head sideways. He reeled, smoke curling from his skin.
"You little—!!"
The tail came too fast to dodge.
WHIP!
It met Fuwako mid-air like a swinging mace.
"SCREECH–!!!"
The world whipped sideways—sky, ground, sky, ground—before their body smashed into rubble and skidded into a battered heap. Dust rose in choking clouds.
Everything spun dizzy.
Instinct shrieked: MOVE. GET UP. DON'T LET HIM CATCH YOU.
But poison whispered back: Sink. Slow. Sleep.
The stonefish lumbered closer, panting against the charred pain in his shoulder, spikes rattling with every step.
"Strong for a pest," he growled, voice roughened by the lightning still sparking under his skin. "Too bad storms die out."
Fuwako lifted their head— feathers dragging like waterlogged cloth. Their pupils shrank to predator points.
He loomed above them now, shadow blotting out what faint light filtered through the storm.
"The moment you can't move—" he lifted a spike-covered arm, dripping venom, "—that's the moment you die."
He brought the arm down—
Fuwako burst upward, powered by panic and air pressure. The strike missed by inches, impaling stone instead of flesh.
The fishman blinked up — and Fuwako was no longer in front of him.
They were above.
A shadow against the boiling sky.
Their feathers lifted in the wind — every strand alive with static, sizzling with raw instinct.
"Ki…ki…ki—KI!!!"
—I WILL NOT DIE. I WILL NOT LOSE.
Debris and dust spiraled upward as air was siphoned toward Fuwako, pulled into the cyclone forming around them. The clouds churned, grinding together like the jaws of a titan.
Lightning gathered — a spearhead sharpening above their body.
This time the fishman panicked.
"NO YOU DON'T—!!"
He lunged, unleashing spikes in a desperate blast — a lethal bloom of venomous shards raining toward Fuwako like a spined explosion.
Spikes tore through feathers — ripping handfuls free.
Blood sprayed in red streaks.
Pain punched through nerves like jagged metal.
But Fuwako didn't stop.
Couldn't.
Instinct screamed louder than agony:
Finish the predator.
End the threat.
Protect the crying flock-mate.
They folded their wings tight—
And DOVE.
Fast.
Faster.
Predator descent— talons for the throat.
The fishman screamed as he hurled more spikes upward. Each impact shredded flesh and feathers…
…but hunger drove Fuwako.
Hunger to win.
Hunger to protect.
Hunger to survive.
Reality blurred — just wind and blood and target.
Lightning answered their fury.
BOOOOOOM!!!
It hit them.
Not the ground.
Not the fishman.
But Fuwako.
A beam of electric-white force slammed into their body like the wrath of every furious sky-god ever imagined. Pain drowned the world.
They couldn't breathe.
They couldn't see.
They couldn't THINK.
Their screech was swallowed by thunder.
The bolt turned feathers into burning brands, storm-charged arcs running across every nerve.
Then—
Talons hit flesh.
KTHOOOOM!!!
They punched straight through the fishman's chest — lightning following, pouring into the wound like a river of rage.
The courtyard cracked.
Tiles exploded upward.
The fishman's body convulsed — teeth clenched, arms clawing at nothing — as voltage ravaged his heart.
Time distorted — a long, silent wail behind thunder's echo.
And then—
His body stopped moving.
CRASH!!
He slumped backward — smoking, eyes rolled white — spikes melted to stumps of charred bone.
It was over.
…or it should have been.
Fuwako stayed attached for a heartbeat more, beak clicking in stubborn defiance.
Punish the predator.
Make sure it cannot rise again.
Finally, muscles failed.
Their grip loosened.
They slid off and collapsed — a tiny heap of burnt feathers and trembling breath.
The storm's fury dimmed but didn't vanish.
The wind shifted from a scream to a worried murmur — hovering protectively around the fallen chick, like invisible wings shielding them.
Fuwako gasped, dragging air into lungs that felt too small, too scorched to hold life.
"P…pyu… pyu…"
—That's for Nami… you filthy… rock-head…
Their wing twitched, spasming from poison. Blue-white lightning still traced faint lines along their feathers — sparking weakly — their body an overcharged conduit.
All around, silence.
The remaining fishmen froze mid-step.
Even far away —even through walls— everyone had felt that impact.
Zoro stared, mouth set in a dangerous line.
Sanji's cigarette dropped from between his lips.
Usopp—who now was several miles away, somewhere in the forest—trembled, but with awe, not fear.
And Luffy…
His expression didn't shift.
But a new intensity glinted in his eyes — something primal and proud.
He had known Fuwako wasn't ordinary.
But this?
This was…
Terrifying.
Magnificent.
Family.
The stonefish twitched — a pathetic rasp cracking through his throat, trying to rise.
Fuwako raised their head — barely — and glared.
Predator warning.
Stay down or die.
"…pyu."
—Don't. Move.
The fishman's claws slackened.
He collapsed completely.
Defeated.
The storm above pulsed once more… then began to slow its rotation — lightning retreating into grumbling clouds.
Fuwako's vision tunneled.
Everything felt far.
But instinct whispered one more command:
Stay awake.
The flock still needs you.
They forced their eyes open.
Forced their breathing to continue.
Blood dripped.
Feathers smoldered.
But they refused to fall.
Not until Nami's heartbreak was avenged.
TO BE CONTINUED…