The sky was a soft silver as the morning mist rolled gently off the coast of Loguetown.

With one smooth, powerful motion, Kyūjō's oversized fishing rod sliced through the air and arced into the sea—its bait vanishing into the gentle blue waves.

Nothing bit.

Not that he expected anything right away.

Standing calmly at the edge of the shoreline, Tachibana Kyūjō let the sea breeze tug at his simple, sturdy clothing. His eyes were sharp and focused, his stance balanced like a predator waiting to strike.

Today wasn't just about fishing.

Today, he was testing something.

After ensuring the bait was secured, Kyūjō changed his technique. He stopped standing still like a traditional fisherman. Instead, he shifted his grip on the massive rod and began a rhythmic casting motion—swinging, reeling, swinging again.

His movements were precise, almost hypnotic—mimicking the swim pattern of a lively fish darting through the water. This method wasn't for casual fishing. It was designed to attract predators.

Time passed.

Over an hour went by.

And then—the sea, which had been peacefully silent, began to ripple with agitation.

Kyūjō's eyes narrowed.

A massive creature, easily five to six meters long and bright pink in color, broke the surface with surprising speed, heading straight toward the motion of the bait.

As the beast approached, Kyūjō activated Kenbunshoku Haki—his Observation Haki sharpening instantly. He could see the creature's every detail now: its build, its movement, even the faint shifts in its emotion.

His brows furrowed slightly.

"…Wait. Isn't that a Sea Beast? Could that be… Momoo?"

It looked like a juvenile version of the sea creature he remembered from the anime—Momoo, the tamed beast used by Arlong's crew. Except, this one was smaller… and pink, not blue.

Kyūjō tilted his head and muttered, "Color doesn't matter. If it's not poisonous and it tastes good, I'll eat it."

From the crystal-clear waters, the creature emerged—a fish-like body with the head of a cow, flapping wide fins like oars and churning through the surf with ease. Despite its muscular frame, there was something oddly… cute about it. Maybe it was the color.

The moment it spotted the bait, the beast didn't hesitate. It opened its jaws wide—rows of blade-like teeth flashing in the light—and gulped down the entire fish head and hook in one swift bite.

No chewing. Just swallowed it whole.

Then… nothing.

It paused.

Grumbled.

Let out a disgruntled, cow-like moan. "Moooo…"

Apparently disappointed with the meager portion it had chased so far.

But just as it began to swim away—the hook yanked.

Hard.

The line went taut, vibrating violently as the tension snapped through the rod. The steel cord creaked under the strain, nearly shredding apart.

Kyūjō's eyes flicked up—too late to brace.

His feet were dragged several meters, toes skimming the shallow surf before he grounded himself. One step more, and he'd have been pulled into the deep.

With a calm exhale, he activated his Thunder Breathing.

A pulse of energy flowed through his veins, fueling his muscles and locking his body in place like an anchor. The soles of his feet sank into the wet sand. His grip tightened.

With one clean motion, Kyūjō yanked the rod back into control.

"…That was close," he muttered under his breath, face still unreadable. "A second later, and I'd be fish food."

From beneath the waves, a painful wail echoed—deep and raw.

The creature was thrashing now, twisting and coiling, its body spinning like a cyclone in the water. The massive hook had sunk deep into its belly, and panic was taking over.

But Kyūjō didn't budge.

He held firm like a stone pillar.

For twenty long minutes, the stand-off continued—hunter versus beast.

Then something snapped.

In a frenzy of pain and rage, the sea creature's pink eyes flared red. It lunged toward the shoreline, abandoning all instinct. It didn't care about the risk of stranding itself—it just wanted to kill whatever had hurt it.

The moment it neared striking distance, the creature opened its jaw wide again, aiming for Kyūjō with a crushing bite.

And that's when Kyūjō moved.

His hand blurred to his hip, drawing out an old-style, six-chambered cylinder rifle—its barrel thick, cold, and deadly.

In one smooth motion, he aimed and fired.

A thunderous bang ripped through the air.

The 15.7mm round drilled through the beast's forehead, shattering bone and splashing seawater in every direction. Its huge body convulsed mid-lunge, then collapsed limply into the shallow surf.

Dead.

Kyūjō let out a satisfied breath as he lowered the rifle.

"…Now that's dinner."

If he had access to social media from Earth, he would've gone viral in seconds.

He grinned at the thought.

Dragging the giant corpse by the tail with his bare hands, he hauled it back toward his humble little house on the edge of the forest. It was far too big to fit through the doorway, so he left the body lying sprawled across the front yard.

Then, he got to work.

Knife sharpened. Fire lit. Massive pan prepared.

Kyūjō wasted no time.

Fifteen minutes later, the scent of grilled meat filled the air.

He'd sliced the tenderest cuts into thick slabs and pan-fried them until the outside was crisp and golden—but the inside still juicy and soft.

He bit into the first piece.

And froze.

"…This… is too good."

The strong flavor of beef blended perfectly with the sweet, briny taste of the sea. It was tender but springy, savory yet refreshing. Every bite lingered like poetry on his tongue.

He ate ten… twelve… fifteen pieces without stopping.

It didn't matter how much meat he downed—his appetite refused to quit.

With a huge grin, Kyūjō returned outside and cut another hunk off the beast, preparing it over charcoal this time, savoring the rich aroma that danced on the breeze.

— — —

Three Days Later – Red-Light District, Loguetown

Inside a dimly lit backroom of a brothel-turned-safehouse, Aisha Asiri, field agent of CP9, flipped through a file thick with reports on child trafficking activity.

Her fingers stopped on one profile.

Name: Little Orange

Gender: Male

Age: 10

Address: Eastern Forest Edge, Loguetown Outskirts

Background: Orphan, descended from a fishing family

Medical Note: Previously diagnosed with cognitive delay. Recently showing rapid improvement. Currently listed as a high-risk target of the Yomera human trafficking group.

Aisha stared at the file for a long moment.

Then, without turning her head, she addressed her fellow agent—a long-term infiltrator named Lux.

"This kid, 'Little Orange'… Are you sure he used to be mentally impaired?" she asked flatly.

Lux scratched his head. "Yeah. I'm sure. Kid used to just sit around eating oranges like a zombie. Didn't talk. Didn't do anything."

Aisha's eyes narrowed like knives.

She didn't believe in coincidences.

A kid who had been mentally stunted for years suddenly recovers?

And now, based on internal analysis of bullet angles, impact heights, and movement traces from the recent double-gang massacre… this child's height matches perfectly with the shooter's pathing.

"This boy is suspicious," she said coldly. "I'm almost certain he's our culprit."

"…But he's ten years old," Lux murmured, shaking his head. "Even if he's smart now, that doesn't explain this. You've seen the scene. It was a bloodbath."

"Don't forget the Devil Fruits," Aisha replied without emotion.

Lux blinked. "…But this isn't the Grand Line. What are the odds that—"

He trailed off.

Because deep down, even he knew…

In this world, the odds meant nothing.

Not when monsters walked in human skin.

— — —

Would you like the next chapter done in the same style, or compiled into an ongoing volume file as a digital light novel?

Even in the calm blue sea, Devil Fruit users weren't unheard of.

Nowhere near as common as in the Grand Line, sure—but they existed.

"I've started to suspect he's a Devil Fruit user too," Lux muttered, tension creeping into his voice.

Aisha's eyes sharpened. "Then take me to his house."

Without waiting for a response, she stood up and strode out of the room.

— — —

About a hundred meters from Kyūjō's worn-down home…

Lux pointed toward a dilapidated hut at the edge of a narrow forest path.

"That's the place."

He took a cautious step forward, but Aisha grabbed his wrist roughly.

"Use your head before you move," she snapped coldly.

"The intel clearly stated the subject displays swordsmanship on par with elite warriors, and has awakened Kenbunshoku Haki."

"If he is the one responsible, do you really think either of us stands a chance? Or are you hoping I'll fight him while you watch?"

Lux swallowed hard. His legs stopped moving.

"We wait. He lives alone, right?" Aisha asked, eyes fixed on the hut. "Once he leaves, we go in and search."

Aisha Asiri knew better than to tail someone with sharpened Haki.

He'd sense them the moment they approached. The only option was to wait for him to leave—and hope he wouldn't come back quickly.

Moments later, as expected, Tachibana Kyūjō stepped out of his home, humming softly as he strapped a massive sword to his back.

His figure was upright, steady—his steps light, but purposeful.

Kyūjō was heading to the sea.

It was time for his daily underwater training.

He'd been using ocean pressure to enhance his swordsmanship—an alternative to expensive weights. The pressure built his muscles, core stability, and endurance. In his own words, "Why waste money when you've got the sea?"

Genius, in his own humble opinion.

In this world, where the human body could grow at inhuman speeds, his method was shockingly effective. Combined with Thunder Breathing, in just a few short months, his physique now rivaled a Kinoe-class Demon Slayer back in the world of Kimetsu no Yaiba.

Kyūjō chuckled quietly to himself.

Once he perfected Thunder Breathing Ver. 3.0, what would his body become?

How much oxygen could he store in one breath?

How long could he stay at the bottom of the ocean?

There was no answer—yet. But he was excited to find out.

His journey was only beginning.

Although he'd sensed two faint life auras from a hundred meters away, he didn't pay them any mind.

This area was near the edge of town, and people passed by now and then. Nothing strange.

Besides, he'd grown used to dulling parts of his senses.

With his level of sensitivity, keeping everything fully active would be agony.

The sound of footsteps, rustling leaves, even a goat's fart in the distance—it all came through like thunderclaps.

If he didn't suppress it, his mind would never be able to rest.

Sword on his back, taller than most grown men, Kyūjō walked off with a carefree smile.

Far behind, two would-be spies shared a pale glance.

"Thank the stars we didn't try anything stupid," both thought simultaneously, sweat running down their backs.

"…Still want to keep going?" Lux asked, his voice dry, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Aisha clenched her jaw. Once she was certain Kyūjō had disappeared, she nodded firmly.

"This is a rare chance. We need to find out why someone that strong is hiding out in a backwater town like Loguetown."

Lux gave a weak nod, his face pale. He was just an ordinary intel agent on a government salary that barely cracked 200,000 Berries a month.

Getting caught up in something like this?

It felt like suicide.

The moment Kyūjō vanished from sight, Aisha led Lux toward the broken-down house.

But just as they stepped onto the overgrown yard, they froze.

Hanging beside the house was the skeleton of a giant sea fish, at least six meters long—cleaned and displayed with eerie precision.

Aisha's suspicions ignited like wildfire.

'There's no mistake now. That child's body has been taken over by the power of a Devil Fruit… or worse.'

There was no way an orphaned boy could've hauled a monster like that from the ocean.

Impossible.

They pushed open the door and stepped inside with care.

To their surprise… the interior was spotless.

The outside looked like a shack. But the inside?

Tidy. Organized. Calm.

Bedroom. Kitchen. Bath. Everything clean and maintained. Even the desk in the corner had a few books neatly stacked—navigation manuals, specifically.

They searched the entire house top to bottom, hoping for documents, secret scrolls, hidden weapons—anything to explain who this mystery swordsman really was.

But all they found…

Four million Berries.

A dozen or so flintlock rifles.

And absolutely nothing else.

At least, not the kind of thing Aisha had been hoping for.

With a tight frown, she walked out in silence.

She didn't even react when Lux awkwardly picked up the chest of money and tried to hide it behind his back.

She didn't stop him.

Truth be told… if Lux hadn't taken it, she might have.

For people like them, who weren't blessed by noble birth or high-ranking bloodlines, what did they have to cling to but Berries?

Lux made less than 200,000 a month. Aisha didn't make much more.

That chest could cover a year's expenses. Maybe more.

And after her report went through, the "mysterious swordsman" might not even survive the week.

So why hesitate?

What she didn't know was that this little chest of stolen coin…

Would become a curse.

A harbinger of ruin for them both.

— — —

Dusk

Tachibana Kyūjō returned home, carrying his sword across his shoulders. A line of fresh-caught sea fish dangled from the blade, still dripping seawater.

Humming a tune, he followed the familiar path home.

In his mind, he was already thinking of the next step.

Buy a boat.

That's why he'd started studying navigation in the first place.

People in this town were starting to recognize him too easily. It was time to disappear, head to another island, and reinvent himself.

His next destination: Shimotsuki Village, also in East Blue. Home of the Isshin Dojo, where the legendary swordsman Kōshirō Shimotsuki taught.

If he could train under Kōshirō, he might master one of the purest sword styles in this world—while crafting a stronger false identity.

But then—

As he reached his house and saw the front door wide open, the smile on his face vanished.

"…What kind of bastard steals from a kid?!"

The fish dropped from his sword with a wet splatter.

Kyūjō closed his eyes and activated his full sensory perception.

The air still held traces of unfamiliar scent.

It didn't take long to recognize them.

The same two presences he'd felt watching him earlier.

His expression darkened.

He still tried to be rational.

Maybe they were just desperate thieves.

But when he followed their scent trail… and found it leading to the red-light district…

— — —

Elsewhere…

In a smoky upstairs room of a sleazy bar, Aisha sat comfortably, speaking to a Den Den Mushi perched on the table.

"Yes, Director Spandine," she purred sweetly, sounding perfectly obedient as she fed half-truths into the receiver.

The snail mirrored the smirking face of Spandine, the cold-hearted overseer of CP9.

"I see. If this swordsman is as bold as you say… then he doesn't need to live much longer."

"Don't act recklessly. Keep eyes on him. In three days, an agent from CP9 will arrive to eliminate the threat."

The line went dead.

— — —

But the conversation had not been as private as she believed.

Downstairs—leaning against a shadowed wall—Tachibana Kyūjō stood quietly, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

His fists slowly clenched.

"This… has gone too far."

A wave of killing intent swept through the air.

That night—

The entire red-light district would remember the moment the shadows stopped whispering… and began to bleed.

That night…

Marked the beginning of the blood hunt that would shake all of Loguetown to its core.

— — —

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