Bullet wandered home in a daze. He collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind a tangled mess.
Late into the night, Douglas Gray, commander of the Galzforth forces, returned home. Spotting the darkened training room from outside, he was surprised—his adopted son was nothing if not disciplined, and this was prime training hour.
Stepping inside, Gray flicked on the lights and sank into the sofa. He thought about his adopted son—a boy who'd always been mature beyond his years and had brought him immense benefits. Yet, as Bullet grew stronger, a shadow crept into Gray's heart. Excellence was a virtue, but this boy's rise was too fast—his military achievements already hinted at a national hero in the making.
For a man in power, such momentum was intolerable. The sense of crisis gnawed at Gray: if Bullet kept growing, he'd eventually threaten everything Gray had built.
If it really came down to it, he'd have to enact that plan... Don't blame your father, Bullet.
Snap!
He lit a cigar, smoke swirling around his face, masking his expression in drifting shadows.
Tap, tap, tap...
Footsteps approached from behind. Gray quickly composed himself, turning to see Bullet standing there. He forced a smile.
"Bullet, what's up with you today? You're looking a little rough."
Bullet met his father's eyes, then shook his head. "Just thinking about some things, Father."
He wasn't stupid. Over the past few years, he had felt his father growing distant—gone was the warmth of childhood. That was part of why Bullet had withdrawn even further, closing himself off. They were father and son, but he couldn't understand why things had changed. Combined with the pain of his comrades' betrayal, it was no wonder he'd buried himself in relentless training, finding meaning only in the sensation of growing stronger.
The image of the Marine officer he'd met that day replayed in his mind. Bullet had spent the whole afternoon lying at home, lost in thought, until finally, he understood what he truly wanted:
"I want comrades I can trust. I want to be saved. I want to protect others..."
With that resolve burning in his chest, Bullet waited until his father returned that evening. He walked over and sat awkwardly beside Gray on the sofa.
"Father, I want to join the Marines."
Gray froze, his smile fading. He took a long drag on his cigar, face hidden in smoke.
"Why do you want to do that, Bullet?"
Inside, suspicion churned. Was this a test? Had an enemy gotten to Bullet? Or had he overheard something he shouldn't have?
Bullet lowered his head, silent for a moment. Then he looked up, eyes unwavering.
"Father, I want to have companions. I want comrades I can trust. I want to protect everything I care about."
Each word struck Gray's heart like a hammer. Staring at Bullet's young face, he suddenly snapped awake. What have I been doing all these years...? He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come.
Finally, with a stiff voice, he asked, "You've made up your mind?"
Bullet nodded solemnly. Seeing the determination in his son's eyes, Gray suddenly smiled—a genuine, barrier-free smile. Maybe I really was wrong all this time... but at least I haven't made an unforgivable mistake.
He looked at Bullet without a trace of the old wariness and nodded his approval.
Then he went to the bedroom, gently woke his sleeping wife, and asked her to prepare a hearty meal for the family. For the first time in years, father and son found themselves back in the warmth they'd once shared.
At the dinner table, Bullet felt his father's changed attitude and care. For once, his cold, stoic face broke into a faint smile.
It was a sleepless night.
At dawn, Bullet packed his belongings, ready to head for the port. He'd heard that the Marines he'd met yesterday were staying on the island for the night.
He finished packing early, wanting to say goodbye to his parents. But when he stood at their door, his hand hesitated, unable to knock. Finally, he rapped softly—no response. He gently pushed the door open, only to find the room empty.
A pang of disappointment hit him. He trudged outside, pushed open the front door—
And was greeted not by the morning sun, but by his father in full dress uniform, medals gleaming, and his mother, wiping away tears with reddened eyes.
A genuine smile broke across Bullet's face. He grasped his parents' outstretched hands, and together, the three made their way to the harbor where Sakazuki's warship was docked...
Aboard the departing warship, Bullet gazed back at the island where he'd spent his entire life, reluctant to let go.
On deck, Sakazuki and Karol watched him. This unexpected addition was a welcome surprise. At this stage, Bullet hadn't even eaten a Devil Fruit. With proper training, he could become the next Garp.
Thinking of Bullet's overwhelming Haki in the original story, Sakazuki made up his mind—he'd train the boy himself.
That day, as he was instructing Bullet on how to awaken Haki—
Buru buru! Buru buru!
The Den Den Mushi rang out from behind. Karol brought it over and handed it to Sakazuki.
He answered. Vice Admiral Morris's voice came through, tinged with worry.
After listening to Morris's report, Sakazuki's brow furrowed. He told Karol to fetch a sea chart and gave a few quick orders. Then, orienting himself with the chart, his lower body transformed into magma.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the warship, shaking it to its core as Sakazuki shot skyward like a blazing comet.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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