Strawberry raised his longsword, his feet stamping the air with Geppo. The blade in his hand gleamed with Haki, faint sword energy flickering along its edge as he dove downward.
"Jinbe!"
Jinbe's eyes flared wide with fury.
"Fish-Man Karate!"
His legs burst with power as he launched himself upward, body twisting through the air. He spun a full circle, using the rotation to drive a kick into the blade rushing at him.
"5000 Brick Roundhouse Kick!"
Boom!
* * *
Evening fell.
Rain hammered against the deck of a marine warship caught in a storm. Inside the infirmary, a group of fish-men crowded around the operating table where Fisher Tiger lay. They begged him to accept a transfusion, the only way to save his life.
The ship had been seized by Arlong and the rest of the crew, and Jinbe had already returned from the fight, though his own condition was far from good. Several deep cuts ran across his body, and blood still streamed down from his head.
On the table, Tiger's breathing grew ragged. His body was drenched in blood, but when they pressed him again to take human blood, he roared with defiance.
"Don't you dare give me a transfusion! I will not live with that kind of blood inside me!"
His face twisted, voice breaking with grief and rage. "That blood is filthy! It belongs to the humans who have always despised our kind. I will never accept their charity, nor their pity! I will never yield to them!"
His chest heaved, each breath harsher than the last.
The crew stared in shock, even Arlong. To him, Tiger had always been a leader who believed in something different.
"Big Brother Tiger… all this time, what happened to you?" Arlong asked at last.
Hearing the question, Tiger's body shook. His eyes closed, trembling, and his hand slid over the tattoo scarred across his chest.
"That was long ago," he said through the pain. "Not long after my last voyage I was captured. They locked me in Mariejois for years. I was… a slave."
The room froze.
"What!"
"Captain Tiger, no…"
"That's impossible!"
"Captain…"
Tears spilled down Tiger's face as he continued, "What I saw there was the barbarity of humans. Though I escaped, I couldn't abandon those who still suffered as slaves. That's why I freed them."
He struggled to draw a breath.
"Listen to me. I always lived as I pleased, and in doing so I only hindered Queen Otohime. She was right. Everyone yearns for peace. But the ones who will truly change the world are the next generation. Children like Koala who know nothing of this hate. So I beg you… do not tell the islanders what happened to us. Do not speak of the tragedy we endured, or the anger burning in our hearts. The living must shape the future. The dead leave only hatred behind."
A painful cough escaped him. "It's ridiculous… My mind knows this truth, but the demon inside me has taken hold. My body itself refuses that blood. I cannot love humans anymore."
His voice trembled weaker and weaker.
"Please… hide all of this. Do not let the hatred continue. And one more thing… tell Queen Otohime I am sorry. I was wrong."
His thoughts blurred, drifting away. In the haze of his final moments, images of the days in Fish-Man District flickered through his mind.
He saw his brothers, calling him 'big brother' with wide smiles, their laughter echoing through the streets.
'Those days… were happy,' he thought.
He reached out, hand shaking, as if to grasp them again. But his arm fell limp, and with it, his breath ceased.
"Big brother Tiger!!!"
* * *
Sea Circle Calendar 1512. Fisher Tiger, the fish-man hero who once scaled the Red Line barehanded and freed countless slaves, refused human blood and died.
Looking back at his life:
As a boy he ruled Fish-Man District with loyalty and strength. He left the island to adventure. He was captured, became a slave, and later escaped. He freed others in Mariejois, returned to Fish-Man Island, and took away those who despised humans. He fought against the World Government, and died in resistance.
The later years of his life were filled with contradictions.
He led the radicals away, but lacked the determination to go all the way. Even when pursued by the government, he held back from killing them. Still, he was not weak. He stood against Queen Otohime, choosing the path of piracy. Both fought to erase discrimination, but his way was more extreme.
He hated humans, yet would not pass that hatred on to the next generation.
He knew rebellion was the only way to gain equality, but he also understood it would leave scars that could never fade. He had no choice. The demon in his heart drove him forward, leaving him unable to stand idle.
Given the state of the world and from the wider view of history, his resistance was doomed. But it was a necessary part of civilization's growth.
Resentment, race, and prejudice do not just vanish with time. They change only when someone dares to take the first step, leaving marks that echo across generations.
There are no saviors, no flawless heroes. There are only pioneers who bleed and fall along the road to revolution.
Tiger's mark would not disappear. It would be carried from one generation to the next. Perhaps in decades, perhaps in centuries, Fish-Man Island would one day be free and see the sunlight it longed for.
But it would take too long.
"As long as this generation can solve the problem, don't leave it to the next."—Sakazuki.
* * *
Outside Foolshout Island.
Three warships were anchored at the coast.
On the deck, Borsalino stood with a cigarette between his lips. His lazy eyes narrowed when he noticed something strange.
"Oh?"
On the shore, Arlong could not accept Tiger's death. Rage blinded him. He swore he would return to the island and slaughter every human there.
But when he reached the waters nearby, he spotted the warships. A savage grin spread across his face.
"Then I'll start with you!"
A towering column of water shot skyward, crashing down on the deck of the nearest ship. The fists behind it struck with the strength of ten men, crushing marine soldiers left and right.
Arlong's wild face twisted, his teeth bared as he roared, "Damn humans! I'll smash you all to pieces! Shahahaha!"
His mind teetered on the edge of madness as he slaughtered every marine in reach.
Boom!
Another group of soldiers fell under his blows. He looked up, eyes locking on the flag fluttering above. With a leap, he launched himself toward the mast's peak.
"Shahahaha!"
On the middle warship, Borsalino exhaled smoke, his voice calm and mocking. "You're too noisy~"
His finger lifted. A small point of light formed.
Whoosh!
A golden beam pierced straight through Arlong's chest midair.
Boom!
The explosion blasted him back to the shore, his body sprawled helplessly.
Borsalino vanished into sparks of light, reappearing before the fallen fish-man in an instant. He pressed one foot down hard on his chest, pinning him without effort.
"So you're Arlong, huh~"
He tilted his head, still puffing his cigarette.
"Hmm?"
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