Watching Luffy run recklessly at full force toward Krieg, I was still puzzled at the look he gave me.
It was that same expression I'd seen earlier – expectant, hopeful, almost... desperate?
'No, that wasn't quite right. Desperate implied a lack of options, and this rubber-brained idiot seemed to have more options than he knew what to do with.'
He could have easily avoided this entire confrontation, could have slipped away while Krieg was distracted with his dramatic villain monologue.
But instead, here he was, charging headfirst into what was essentially a walking armory with nothing but his fists and whatever passed for a brain in that straw hat of his.
'But why would someone like Luffy want recognition from me?'
The question gnawed at me as I watched him dodge the first wave of projectiles. It wasn't like I was some legendary figure he should be impressing.
I mean, sure, I'd built up quite the reputation in the East Blue over the past two years – Dead-Eyes Hikigaya, The Sorcerer, whatever dramatic title people wanted to slap on me this week. But Luffy didn't strike me as the type to care about reputations or titles. He was more the 'punch first, ask questions while punching' kind of person.
And I was just a guy trying to survive in a world that seemed designed to kill anyone with half a functioning brain cell. Yet there was something in the way he'd looked at me, something that suggested my opinion mattered to him in a way that didn't make sense.
'Unless...'
The answer came to me that he still wanted to recruit me, he wanted to tell me that he is strong, so he can be confident when he extends his invitation again.
'Of course. It was a recruitment theater. A display of strength meant to convince me that joining his crew wouldn't be a loss for me.'
The logic was almost endearing in its simplicity. 'Show the cynical loner that you're worth following, and surely he'll abandon his perfectly reasonable policy of self-preservation to join your merry band of dreamers.'
A futile effort, in my opinion.
'Not only was it useless, but he was also risking his life for what amounted to a job interview. And They Are The Employer!!'
Who does that? Who puts their existence on the line just to prove they're leadership material? The whole concept was so fundamentally flawed that I couldn't help but feel a mixture of irritation and... something else. Something I didn't want to examine too closely.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!
And as I expected, as Luffy was running toward Krieg, the latter threw projectile bombs from his hands, exploding the debris Luffy was running on.
The explosions lit up the restaurant's interior like a demented fireworks display. Chunks of wood and metal flew everywhere, and I instinctively dodged a flying wooden shrapnel.
'My survival instincts were apparently still functioning, even if my ability to understand other people's motivations had gone completely haywire.'
Luffy, predictably, didn't duck. He didn't even slow down. He just kept running through the chaos like it was a light drizzle instead of a legitimate attempt on his life.
I watched him leap from one piece of falling debris to another, his rubber body contorting in ways that should have been impossible but somehow looked natural on him.
It was like watching someone play a video game on the hardest difficulty setting – impressive, sure, but ultimately pointless unless you were trying to prove something to yourself. Or to someone else.
Not only that, Krieg took out the shield on his shoulder and activated the mechanism on it, shooting spears like projectiles toward Luffy.
'More projectiles. Because apparently, bombs weren't enough. Krieg was really going all-out on the "overwhelming firepower" approach, which would have been smart against any normal opponent.'
Unfortunately for him, Luffy seemed to operate on cartoon physics, where the normal rules of cause and effect were merely suggestions.
I found myself unconsciously calculating trajectory angles and impact points, my mind automatically cataloging Krieg's arsenal and its limitations.
'The shields were impressive, certainly, but they had to have finite ammunition. The shield mechanism looked complex – probably prone to jamming if you could get close enough to interfere with it.'
There were tactical solutions here, strategic approaches that could turn the tide without requiring someone to run face-first into a wall of sharp metal.
But Luffy wasn't thinking tactically.
'He was thinking... well, I wasn't sure he was thinking at all, actually.'
But Luffy kept running, dodging what he could, and even accepting to take the ones he couldn't dodge, still charging even when he got injured and was bleeding heavily, in a totally mad and reckless run.
Blood was streaming down his face now, his shirt was torn in multiple places, and I could see the beginnings of what would probably be some impressive bruises. Any sane person would have retreated, regrouped, maybe tried a different approach.
But Luffy kept going.
'He is going to kill himself…' That's what I thought.
The observation was clinical, detached, the kind of rational assessment I'd trained myself to make. Luffy was burning through his stamina and taking damage at an unsustainable rate.
And if that was not enough, when Luffy got close, Krieg took out a metal cape full of iron spikes.
Krieg held it like a matador's cape, practically inviting Luffy to charge. The message was clear: come at me, and you'll be shredded. It was a perfect psychological weapon, designed to make an opponent hesitate, to make them think twice about a direct assault.
Any reasonable person would have taken the hint.
To my and everyone's surprise, Luffy stretched his hand to gather force and punched with full force at Krieg, who was behind the cape of spikes, knocking Krieg down and injuring his hand in the process.
'What the…?!'
I actually felt my jaw drop. Just slightly, but enough that I had to consciously close it.
The sound of the impact was... substantial. Metal on flesh, with enough force behind it to send a grown man flying. I could see the blood on Luffy's knuckles from where I was standing, could see the way his hand was shaking from the impact.
'What kind of mad idiot would even think of that?'
It was beyond reckless, it was plain stupidity. He was lucky that his hand didn't get shredded to pieces.
"Damn! he is going into shock!"
"Oi! Do something!"
The shouts cut through my analysis like a knife, jerking me back to the present moment. I'd been so focused on Luffy's apparent death wish that I'd almost missed the real crisis unfolding right behind me.
When I looked, I saw that Gin was bleeding heavily from his chest where Krieg had shot him, like he was going into a seizure and dying.
'Tsk!'
The sight reminded me of some bad memories, and I couldn't help but click my tongue as I moved closer and kneeled down next to Gin.
"What are you doing?" The cook-doctor's voice was sharp with professional concern and probably a fair amount of skepticism. After all, what could some cloaked stranger possibly do that a trained medical professional couldn't?
"Sit him still for a moment," I said, my voice coming out steadier than I felt.
It was the tone I used when I needed people to listen without asking questions – not commanding, exactly, but carrying enough quiet authority to make them hesitate.
The cook looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have convinced him to step back.
'Or maybe he was just desperate enough to let anyone try, even if it meant watching some amateur make things worse.'
With a deep breath, I put my hand on Gin's chest near his wound and began channeling Hamon into his body.
The energy flowed through me like liquid sunlight, warm and alive in ways that normal power never was.
Hamon was strange like that – it felt almost organic, like it was working with your body rather than being imposed upon it. When I channeled it into someone else, it was like extending my own self, sharing something like a life force—Even though it is not.
I could feel the bullet through the connection, a foreign object disrupting the natural flow of blood through Gin's system. It was like a stone in a stream, creating turbulence where there should have been a smooth current.
Not a ten-second later, the bullet emerged with a wet, metallic sound, pushed out by the pressure of healing tissue. It fell to the floor with a small clink, stained with blood but no longer a threat.
The wound edges drew together like they were being pulled by invisible threads, pink flesh knitting itself back into wholeness.
Gin's breathing stabilized, the terrible rattling sound fading into a normal, steady rhythm. Color returned to his face, and his eyes lost that distant, unfocused look that had scared me more than I wanted to admit.
The silence that followed was... substantial. The kind of quiet that happened when everyone's assumptions about reality got collectively shattered.
The doctor looked at me like I had done a miracle, as did the other cooks, and Sanji exclaimed.
"You can heal too?" Sanji's voice was filled with something between awe and disbelief. Like he'd already catalogued my various abilities and now had to completely reorganize his mental filing system.
"It's only first aid level," I said, trying to inject some normalcy back into the situation. "He still needs to rest and recover properly."
The casual tone was deliberate. I'd learned that people were more likely to accept strange abilities if you presented them as mundane, practical things rather than miraculous interventions.
Make it sound routine, and they'd stop thinking of you as some mystical figure and start treating you like a person again.
The limitation was real, even if my explanation was simplified. Hamon worked by optimizing the body's natural healing processes, but that optimization was most effective when it was your own body doing the healing.
When you used it on someone else, you were essentially jumpstarting their system and hoping it could maintain the process on its own.
For Hamon users, the energy was always there, a constant presence that kept everything running at peak efficiency.
It was like having a perfect immune system, perfect circulation, perfect everything – as long as you maintained the flow. But when you shared that energy with someone else, it was temporary, a brief boost that would fade once the connection was broken.
The true medical application of Hamon was apparently something that required years of study, combining martial arts mastery with actual medical knowledge.
You had to understand not just how to channel the energy, but how the human body worked, what went wrong when it was injured, and how to guide the healing process in the right direction.
Something that I'm not planning on doing anytime soon.
I had enough on my plate without adding "mystical doctor" to my list of required skills.
Besides, what I'd just done for Gin was an emergency measure, a split-second decision made in the heat of the moment. Making it a career would mean accepting that kind of responsibility all the time, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that.
With Gin's situation stabilized, I turned to look at Luffy, who was somehow now trading blows with Don Krieg.
The fight had evolved while I was playing field medic. What had started as a one-sided beatdown was now looking almost competitive, with Luffy managing to land actual hits on his heavily armed opponent.
It was still insane, still reckless, but there was something almost... sophisticated about the way he was moving now.
Like he'd found his rhythm.
That was until Don Krieg had enough, then he put his two shoulder shields together, and somehow, a spear pole and a spear blade appeared from two sides, transforming the two shields into a strange-looking spear.
The transformation was smooth, mechanical, like watching a piece of military hardware unfold. The shields locked together with a series of clicks and whirs, extending into something that was part spear, part hammer, and entirely too dangerous for anyone's good health.
It was the kind of weapon that existed solely to end fights quickly and messily. No subtlety, no room for error – just point, thrust, and hope your opponent doesn't have anything left to counter with.
The change was immediate and dramatic. What had been a relatively straightforward brawl suddenly became something out of a war zone. The spear wasn't just a weapon – it was a force multiplier, turning every thrust into a potential disaster.
The spear had a mechanism that exploded anything it hit.
'Of course it did. Because apparently, regular impalement wasn't enough for someone like Krieg. He needed his weapon to be both a spear and a grenade launcher, because why settle for one method of killing when you could have two?'
The explosions were deafening, each impact sending shockwaves through the restaurant that made the floor vibrate under my feet, even though I was on the other side of the water.
Splinters of wood flew everywhere, and the air filled with smoke and dust that made it hard to see what was happening.
Luffy had to evade it many times, but Krieg was no slouch, with his skill, he managed to hit Luffy, and the rubber boy tasted the full blast of the spear many times.
Each explosion made me wince involuntarily. The sound alone was enough to make my ears ring, and I wasn't even the one taking the hits. Luffy was absorbing the full force of each blast, his rubber body smoking and charred from the repeated impacts.
'It was like watching someone get hit by lightning over and over again, and somehow keep getting back up for more. The human body—even a rubber one—wasn't meant to take that kind of punishment.'
But even then, not only did he not fall, Luffy managed to break the blade part of the spear by punching it every time he was hit by the spear's explosion.
The strategy was so counterintuitive that it took me a moment to understand what I was seeing.
'Instead of trying to avoid the spear, Luffy was deliberately getting hit by it, using the moment of contact to damage the weapon itself. It was like... using your face to break someone's fist, except somehow it was actually working.'
Each time the spear connected, there was an explosion, smoke, and the sound of metal being stressed beyond its limits. And each time, when the smoke cleared, Luffy was still there, still moving, and the spear blade was completely shattered.
It was madness. It was suicidal. It was...
'Actually kind of brilliant, if I were to think in a completely insane and illogical way…'
While it was a great thing, the price he had to pay for it was huge. Right now, Luffy is barely able to stand steadily.
The cost was written all over his body. Burns, cuts, bruises – he looked like he'd been through a blender and then set on fire. His clothes were now having more holes than fabric, and there was blood in places that definitely shouldn't have been bleeding.
But he was still standing. Barely, swaying like a tree in a storm, but upright and defiant.
While I was contemplating the various ways this could end badly, I heard the voice of Zeff, the Baratie's owner, addressing Sanji.
"Look closely at the rubber boy's fight," Zeff said, his voice carrying the weight of experience and hard-won wisdom.
"If the myriad weapons and preparations are Krieg's brand of might," Zeff continued, "then the rubber boy's bravery and guts are his own might."
The old man was treating this like some kind of philosophical demonstration, breaking down the fundamental approaches to conflict.
'Krieg represented overwhelming preparation and firepower, while Luffy embodied... what? Raw determination? The power of positive thinking?'
It sounded like the kind of thing you'd hear in a motivational speech, not during an actual life-or-death battle.
"In the battles of pirates," Zeff elaborated, "where it's always life or death, the one who hesitates for even a moment falls to their doom." He paused, letting his words sink in.
'That part, at least, made sense.' Hesitation was a luxury you couldn't afford when someone was actively trying to kill you. I'd learned that lesson the hard way during my first few encounters with the more violent residents of this world.
"Eh? What do you mean by that?"
To Sanji's aloud puzzlement and my silent one, Zeff said, "That rubber boy has no hesitation whatsoever."
'No hesitation…Like that was somehow a good thing by itself.'
I could understand the tactical value of decisive action, but what Luffy was doing went beyond that.
'He wasn't just acting without hesitation – he was acting without thought, without consideration for consequences, without any apparent regard for his own survival.'
There was a difference between being decisive and being reckless, and Luffy had crossed that line so far he couldn't even see it anymore.
"Whether it's the myriad weapons to survive no matter what," Zeff continued, "or the unwavering conviction to conquer the fear of death, this is the kind of fight these two were having."
'Conviction to conquer the fear of death.'
The phrase sat uncomfortably in my mind, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit where it was supposed to go.
Was that what I was watching? Someone who'd overcome the basic survival instinct that kept most people alive? Someone who'd decided that dying was acceptable as long as it was for their goals?
'Whether it was Roronoa or Luffy, for me, the whole conviction thing was ridiculous.'
The idea that sheer willpower could overcome material disadvantages was the kind of thinking that got people killed. It was feel-good nonsense, the sort of thing that sounded inspiring until you actually tested it against reality.
'Even if this world were a manga, you can't just treat it as a Manga.'
It was irritating, so much so that I couldn't help but comment aloud for Zeff and Sanji to hear me.
"Even if you have the 'conviction' and 'guts' to conquer the fear of death, you can still die," I said, my voice carrying more bite than I'd intended. "No matter what, it's always a possibility, and throwing your life away like that won't mean anything."
The words came out sharper than I'd planned, but I couldn't help it. Watching Luffy throw himself into danger for what amounted to a philosophical point was triggering something in me that I didn't want to examine too closely.
At the same time, Luffy was rushing toward Krieg, who was above a broken mast, where Krieg used the spear's mechanism against him, blasting Luffy with an explosion.
BOOM!!
Another explosion, another cloud of smoke, another moment where I was certain that this time, finally, the rubber boy had pushed his luck too far.
In fact, I was wording it politely. But in my mind, I was finding the whole thing hopelessly stupid.
The internal monologue was less diplomatic. What I was really thinking was that this was the kind of idealistic garbage that got people killed in the real world.
The notion that believing in yourself hard enough could overcome any obstacle was the domain of children's stories and motivational posters, not actual combat.
'Since when has conviction, guts, and bravery been enough for anyone to survive?'
The question burned in my mind with an intensity that surprised me. When had I become so invested in debunking other people's philosophies? When did watching someone else's reckless behavior start feeling so... personal?
'If it were like that, then you don't need any weapons, skills, or Devil Fruit. Just two fists and some of the magical "Conviction", and you will be an immortal enough to conquer the world.'
The sarcasm was bitter, even in my own thoughts. If positive thinking was all it took to survive, then why was I sailing around carrying every kind of weapon anyone had ever thought of? Why had I spent months—no, Years learning how to fight, to defend myself, to be prepared for every possible threat?
'Why had I... why had I not returned to my family yet...'
I cut that thought off before it could fully form. Now wasn't the time for that kind of self-examination.
Zeff turned to look at me, his expression thoughtful. "Yes. Even with conviction, dying is always a possibility," he acknowledged, and for a moment, I thought he was agreeing with me.
The old man's agreement should have been satisfying, validation that my realistic worldview was more accurate than Luffy's reckless optimism. But somehow, it didn't feel like a victory.
...Then he continued with words that hit me like thunder.
"Whether it's preparation or conviction, you could always die," he said, his voice steady and sure. "So that's why…you don't go to the sea alone."
The words hit me like a physical impact, making my breath catch in my throat. It was like he'd reached into my chest and grabbed something I'd been trying to ignore for months.
"You always sail with someone who can have your back, someone who can save you in the time of trouble."
"That way, you would be sure that you won't die, and at the same time, they could trust you, knowing that you will always be there for them."
The philosophy was simple, almost childishly so. But there was something in the way he said it that made it feel profound, like a truth I'd been deliberately avoiding.
'The old guy was saying that I was trying to be alone, not thinking of depending on anyone, that I was scared of losing my life because there would be no one there to save my life.'
The realization came with sudden, overwhelming clarity. All this time, I'd been thinking about survival in terms of individual preparation, individual strength, and individual responsibility.
The idea that someone might watch your back while you watched theirs was so foreign to my current existence that it felt like a revelation.
The accuracy of his assessment was uncomfortable. He'd seen right through my carefully constructed independence and identified it for what it really was – fear.
Not just fear of death, but fear of depending on others, fear of being vulnerable, fear of caring about someone enough to let them matter.
'Exactly like Yukinoshita…'
The name hit me like a punch to the gut, bringing with it a flood of memories I'd been suppressing for months.
Yukinoshita, who'd been so determined to solve everything alone, who'd pushed away help even when she desperately needed it, who'd been so afraid of depending on others that she'd isolated herself completely.
It made me, for the first time in what looks like months, remember Yukinoshita.
The face that was starting to become so blurry, now became so vivid in my mind, so much that I was looking at her directly on that day on the bridge.
The memory was sharp, almost painful in its clarity. Yukinoshita, standing on the bridge, her expression was clearly hesitant, her eyes betraying the storm of emotions underneath. The way she'd held herself, like she was ready to face the world alone, even though it was tearing her apart.
She was like me now, afraid to depend on anyone, thinking that she would become a useless person.
The parallel was uncomfortable but undeniable. Both of us had been so terrified of being weak, of needing help, of admitting that we couldn't handle everything alone. We'd convinced ourselves that independence was strength, that isolation was safety.
'But didn't I already know that this was wrong?'
Even then, I now don't even think about relying on anyone, because I don't have anyone whom I think is worthy to rely on.
The thought was harsh but honest. In this world, I'd met pirates, marines, thieves, merchants, treasure hunters, and adventurers, but none of them had seemed like someone I could trust with my life. They were all either too weak, too unreliable, too selfish, or too willing to abandon their principles when it suited them.
'Or at least, that's what I'd told myself. Maybe the real issue wasn't that they were unworthy – maybe it was that I was too scared to take the risk.'
Luffy's motivation to get my recognition now became clear, he wants to tell me that he is someone I could depend on to have my back.
The pieces clicked into place with sudden clarity. All those looks, all those attempts to sell me the idea, all the reckless showing off – it hadn't been about pride or ego. It had been about trust. About proving that he was someone worth following, someone who would be there when it mattered.
'Someone who would have my back.'
But did he think of me as someone whom he could rely on, and even if so, will I be willing to join his band of dreamers?
The question hung in my mind like a sword over my head. Could I be that person for him? Could I be someone who others could depend on, someone who would be there when they needed me?
'And more importantly, was I willing to try?'
The thought of joining his crew, of being involved with other people in that way, was terrifying. It meant giving up my carefully maintained independence, my ability to make decisions based purely on my own interests.
Luffy had hit Krieg enough to destroy his armor, his prized spear fell from his hand, and Krieg, in turn, used a metal net launcher he had in his arm to shoot a metal net at Luffy, trapping him, and asked his subordinate for support.
"Give Me Some Support, You Bastards!" Krieg shouted to his subordinates, desperation creeping into his voice.
The fight was reaching its climax, with Krieg pulling out what looked like his final desperate gambit. The net was clearly designed to immobilize opponents, probably followed by a coordinated attack from his remaining crew members.
His pirate crew, who had crossbows, were about to shoot Luffy, but I, like Sanji, found myself stopping them by shooting a warning shot with my pistol glowing with Hamon, and Sanji kicking anyone who tried to shoot.
The movement was automatic, instinctive. I saw the crossbows being raised, saw the trapped figure of Luffy struggling against the net, and my body moved before my mind had time to analyze the situation.
BANG!
The shot rang out, my pistol's report echoing through the restaurant. The Hamon-charged bullet didn't hit anyone, but it didn't need to – the warning was clear enough. The golden glow around the weapon made them remember the 'Curses' I had used against their allies, and the pirates hesitated.
It was only after I'd acted that I realized what I'd done. I'd interfered in someone else's fight, taken a side, and committed myself to an outcome. All the things I'd been trying to avoid since arriving in this world.
But somehow, watching them prepare to shoot Luffy while he was trapped... I couldn't just stand there and do nothing.
In the end, Luffy stretched his legs strangely through the net and managed to hammer throw Krieg on the makeshift raft under him while he fell into the water.
The final move was as improvised and ridiculous as everything else Luffy had done. Using his rubber powers to turn a net trap into a sludge hammer was the kind of solution that only made sense if you'd completely abandoned conventional thinking.
But it worked. Krieg went flying, his armor finally giving way under the accumulated damage, and crashed into the raft with a CRACK! that seemed to echo through the sudden silence.
It was over. Somehow, impossibly, the reckless rubber boy had won.
Zeff turned to leave, but not before delivering one final observation to Sanji.
"I happen to know of a certain idiot. Who'd enough conviction like the rubber boy, but threw it away for no good reason…" The old man's parting words were clearly directed at his protégé, but they hit me just as hard.
'Someone who'd had conviction but lost it... wasn't that exactly what I'd become?' Someone who'd once believed in things, who'd once been willing to take risks for other people, but had gradually retreated into cynicism, cowardness, and self-preservation?
When had I stopped believing that things could be better? When had I decided that caring about others was a weakness rather than a strength?
And he added, "Those with special abilities obtained from Devil Fruits are hated by the sea and can't swim."
"What! You Damn Geezer, You Should've Told Me That Sooner." Sanji shouted as he started taking out his jacket.
The practical concern snapped me back to the present. Luffy was in the water, unconscious or close to it, and Devil Fruit users couldn't swim. It was a basic fact of this world, as fundamental as gravity.
Someone needed to get him out, and fast.
Sanji's dive was graceful, professional, the kind of rescue that spoke of experience and genuine concern. He disappeared under the water without hesitation.
Meanwhile, I was doing something more practical and considerably less heroic.
The spear-grenade hybrid that Krieg had been using was valuable, both as a weapon and as a collectible technology.
Even if it was damaged, with my Stand's power, I can easily fix it and even replicate it.
It was the kind of opportunistic thinking that had kept me alive in this world, the practical mindset that prioritized resources over sentiment.
But as I stored the weapon away, I couldn't help but think about what Zeff had said. About not going to sea alone. About having someone to watch your back.
About conviction, and what it meant to be determined enough to bet your life on something.
Maybe the old man was right. Perhaps I had been trying to do everything alone, not because I was strong enough, but because I was too scared to depend on anyone else.
'Maybe, it is about time I reconsider that policy…'
But for now, I need to tie the loose ends here.
…
A/N: Well, That's it for now.
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