Under the vast, endless blue of the sky, a few oddly shaped clouds drifted lazily by. From time to time, the sharp, cheerful cries of seagulls echoed across the sea as they soared overhead.
On a deserted island a rather large one compared to the countless specks scattered across the Grand Line a man sat atop a rugged coral reef. A white seagull perched calmly upon his head, and a pair of comical frog-eyed sunglasses rested across his face. He absentmindedly stroked the wool of a white goat beside him, looking completely unbothered by the bustle of uniformed marines moving about the shore.
Yet none of them dared approach him.
Around the man was an invisible boundary an aura of authority so strong it felt like a forbidden zone. Every marine in sight gave him a wide berth, their faces tense and cautious.
"Still haven't found the cause?"
The deep, irritated roar came from the deck of a nearby warship. The admiral's voice carried easily over the waves, and the moment his words reached the crew, they straightened in unison, cold sweat trickling down their necks.
When the alarm had blared warning of a critical systems failure their hearts had nearly stopped. For a moment, every single sailor had believed their naval career was about to end right then and there.
"I I found it!" one young technician stammered.
"Then what are you waiting for? Report to the Fleet Admiral!"
The soldier swallowed hard, casting a nervous glance toward the man on the reef. Sengoku's face was dark with irritation, and anyone could tell from a single look that his mood was less than pleasant.
The trembling sailor smacked his own chest a few times, trying to summon some courage, then hurried over. Snapping to attention, he saluted crisply.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku! We've identified the problem! The warship's cooling system malfunctioned it's been overheating!"
Sengoku nodded expressionlessly. "How long to repair?"
"Approximately three hours, sir!"
The admiral sighed. His temples throbbed.
First, the Five Elders had summoned him out of nowhere already a monumental hassle and now, halfway through the journey, his ship had broken down. He could practically feel the Five Elders' collective death stare from across the ocean.
"Ahh… my poor, overworked life," he muttered wearily.
But just as Sengoku began to lament his fate, his eyes suddenly narrowed. A powerful energy signature surged from the far side of the island a pressure so fierce it rippled through the air.
His pupils constricted. That level of strength… at least Vice Admiral class, if not higher.
"Who could it be? What kind of monster's on this island?" he murmured.
After a brief pause, he stood and turned to his subordinates. "You. You. And you. With me."
"Yes, Fleet Admiral!"
Time passed slowly as Sengoku and his small detachment advanced into the island's dense interior.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the island, a young man's eyes fluttered open.
For a heartbeat, a flicker of flame shimmered in his pupils. Then his lips curved into a grin.
"Finally… I've mastered the Shikai!"
In his right hand gleamed the hilt of a sword, glowing with a faint, violet light. His chest swelled with excitement.
This… this is the true form of Ryūjin Jakka, he thought, gripping the weapon with reverence.
Exhaling deeply, he forced himself to calm down. "Don't get cocky," he whispered. "No matter how strong you are, there's always someone stronger. Always another mountain beyond the mountain."
He tightened his grip. "Training. That's the real path forward."
Just as he was about to test the weapon's power, his expression shifted. His brows drew together sharply.
Someone was coming.
The boy's aura flared instinctively his senses, honed through countless battles, detecting the approach of human presence.
"There are people nearby," he muttered under his breath. "Marines, maybe?"
Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the source of the disturbance, his movements fluid and fast as lightning.
At the same time, Sengoku and his men moved cautiously through the brush, guided by the same energy signature.
"Who on earth…" Sengoku muttered, frowning.
Then the rustle of leaves.
Instantly, Sengoku's eyes hardened, his voice sharp as a blade. "Who's there?"
The foliage parted.
Out stepped a young man slender, dark-haired, his short hair tousled by the sea breeze. His clothes were tattered, clearly from battle or hardship, but no amount of wear could hide the aura radiating from him. Confidence. Power. The kind that came from absolute conviction.
At his waist hung a sheathed katana, its worn handle faintly shimmering with residual energy.
Sengoku's mind raced, flipping through an invisible catalogue of wanted posters. Every notorious pirate, every rogue swordsman but none matched this boy's face.
The admiral straightened. "A castaway, perhaps?"
The young man said nothing.
His gaze locked on Sengoku, and his mind went blank for a second.
Of all the people he could've encountered on a deserted island… why did it have to be Sengoku the Buddha himself?
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Just my luck… I run into the Fleet Admiral."
He tightened his grip on his sword, heart pounding in his chest. Whatever this world had just thrown at him, one thing was clear his quiet training days were officially over.