— Karina, kill the lights, — I said. — Leave only the signal one.
Karina quickly flipped the switch, and darkness fell over the ship, lit only by the dim, swaying glow of the signal lantern. Shadows lay across the deck like a blanket.
— Captain! The lights on the patrol ship are down too! — shouted Gin without lifting his eyes from the binoculars. — They've stopped firing at the Black Cat pirates!
I squinted toward the ships, veiled in the night haze. The cannons had gone silent, tracers no longer sliced through the sky.
— Looks like he's done... — I thought, staring at the unnatural quiet from that side. Kuro had likely slipped into the shadows.
— Hey, Sabo! — I called, waving him over. — Get over here.
He came almost silently, and we stood shoulder to shoulder at the starboard rail.
— How long till we reach the patrol ship?
Sabo checked the stars and map:
— About ten minutes... if the wind holds.
— Too long, — I shook my head. — They could vanish into the dark by then.
I clenched my fists. They trembled slightly from the vibration of the springs inside.
— We go with the "Takeoff" combo, — I said.
Sabo turned, smirking wryly:
— You and your stunts again...
I gave a short nod.
— After that jump from the sub, I realized a regular launch won't work. Small, unreinforced ships just can't handle the impulse. One wave, one hit — and the boards splinter like matchsticks.
He stayed quiet, but recognition already stirred in his eyes — he knew what I meant.
— That's when I had the idea. How to jump from a ship without destroying it. How to transfer the force into the air.
I stepped forward, standing right in front of Sabo, and looked up.
— It's simple. I step onto someone's hands.
Sabo sighed, but he was already rolling up his sleeves.
— You want me to be your launchpad? — he asked, frowning slightly.
— Just for a second. All I need is balance. I'll take care of the rest.
Sabo crouched down, cupping his hands. I carefully placed my feet onto his palms. My weight shifted to the center of gravity; the springs inside my legs tensed, creaking with metallic strain. The air seemed to thicken.
— Try not to break my wrists, alright? — muttered Sabo, straining.
I smirked.
— I'll try.
I curled up tight. All the force compressed into one point. And in the next moment—
Bane-Bane no Mi — Takeoff from the Living Platform!
The springs released, launching me not from wood, not from steel, but from a living support. The impulse dissipated in the air, as if I'd burst not from the world, but through it.
My body soared skyward — a shadow, swift and precise.
Sabo remained behind, massaging his wrists after the push. The wind lashed my face, tugged my hair back, but I held steady — eyes locked on the target.
Beneath me stretched bottomless black — the sea, smooth like glass, reflected the crescent moon and distant signal lights. Everything was silent. Too silent. As if the whole ocean was holding its breath.
In the distance, off to the left, the patrol ship stood like a nail hammered into water — still and alert. Farther off, barely a silhouette — the Black Cats' ship. Neither moved, neither attacked.
— Just don't screw it up, — I muttered to myself, instantly transforming both arms into steel springs.
With a crunch, the springs shot forward, spinning out and wrapping tightly around the central mast of the patrol ship. The tension was strong — just right. I filled my lungs, tensed my muscles, and whispered:
Bane-Bane no Mi: Catapult Grapple!
With a loud clang, my body shot forward like a missile. I flew over the deck, passing just meters above the marines lying prone. The wind shrieked in my ears, the planks below whipped past like stripes on an old map. Too fast, too strong—
Crash.
I slammed into the aft structure, crumpling its edge — wooden panels splintered with a sharp crack, debris scattered across the deck, and part of the railing plunged into the sea. I rolled across the floor, hit the wall with my back, and quickly got up, coughing from the dust and smoke.
The impulse was too strong.
I glanced down at the shattered decking beneath me — a rough mistake, but not critical. The ship held… for now.
I looked up — and the scene before me was unsettling.
Wounded marines lay everywhere. Some groaned, some unconscious, some trying to rise, propped up on bloodied elbows. Their uniforms were torn, shields broken, weapons scattered across the deck like after a storm. And only one man sat calmly, as if none of this concerned him.
He sat right on the railing, one knee propped up. His dark glasses glinted in the moonlight. Slicked-back hair, a long coat with a fur collar — everything about him spoke of refined coldness. He stared at me calmly, curiously. His fingers toyed with the blade of an extended claw on one hand.
Him.
Kuro.
Captain of the Black Cat Pirates.
A killer in a gentleman's mask.
He tilted his head slightly, as if in greeting.
— You fly fast, — he said lazily, like we'd just met at a chessboard, not among corpses. — I hope you're not here to ruin... my retirement?
I stood facing him, wiping blood from my chin. Kuro didn't move, his posture still elegant, calculated, as if posing for a portrait. Only his fingers, playing with the claws, began to twitch faster.
— So you caused this slaughter just to disappear? — I muttered, more to myself than to him. — Clever. Kinda like Arlong… or whatever his name was. He liked theatrics too.
At that moment, Kuro sharply raised his head.
Silence.
It fell like a heavy wall — as if everything on the deck froze. Even the wind seemed to hush.
— What did you just say? — his voice was icy, calm... too calm.
I blinked.
— Nothing. Just... odd style. A bit theatrical. Nothing personal.
His fingers stopped playing with the claws. He rose from the railing — slowly, almost lazily, but tension rippled through his movements.
— You... — he took a step forward, — ...compared me to that fish-trash?
— Uh… I didn't— — I began, but it was too late.
— I am Kuro.
— I am the phantom no one can catch.
— I am the mind that surpassed those primitive savages.
He tore off his glasses — and in the moonlight, his eyes flared with a predatory, furious gleam.
— And you... spring-legged mistake... dared compare me to him?!
"Didn't think you were a racist," I said, cutting him off.
"Either way, I wasn't planning to leave you alive," he said,lunging forward without warning, as if tired of talking.
Looks like he and Arlong aren't on very good terms, — I thought, preparing to attack, quickly glancing around.
The surviving marines didn't even dare to lift their heads. Some were wounded, others simply frozen with fear.