Chapter 3 - 3: The King's Potential

After a short excursion, Yoriichi Tsugikuni returned with two tiger legs. He wasn't exactly sure how much they weighed, but judging by their sheer size, he wouldn't have to worry about food for quite a while—assuming the meat didn't spoil. Still, to avoid attracting predators with the stench of blood, he didn't haul the legs all the way to his cave. Instead, he left them at the base of the mountain, some distance away from his makeshift shelter. He cut off a small chunk and roasted it over a fire for a taste test. Although that bird from earlier had indirectly confirmed the meat was edible, Yoriichi wasn't about to take any chances. Better to try a bit first. Huh. Not poisonous, thankfully. As for the taste… well, calling it "delicious" would've been a stretch. In fact, it had nothing to do with delicious. The blood hadn't been fully drained, the meat was dry and stringy, and the stench of gamey musk was overwhelming. Still, Yoriichi was more than satisfied. It was meat, after all—leagues better than that unidentified, gluey mash he'd been choking down. Having confirmed it was safe, Yoriichi spent the next few hours roasting several pounds of meat to sate his hunger. Strangely, even after several hefty portions, he only felt half full. Whatever this body was made of, its appetite was nothing short of monstrous. Even so, he resisted the urge to gorge himself any further. Instead, he built a simple smokehouse near the base of the mountain. He carved up dozens of pounds of meat and started the smoking process to preserve it for the days ahead. After spending half a day "processing" the tiger meat, Yoriichi decided to put food preparation on hold and survey the surrounding terrain. Food was no longer an immediate concern. But the real problem—the one that could quickly become life-threatening—was the lack of water. Luckily, on his second expedition around the island, that issue found a solution of its own. With his belly no longer growling, Yoriichi grabbed his sword and set out again. This time, he didn't follow the forest trail he had used before. Instead, after carefully studying the landscape, he made his way toward the lowest-lying areas of land and plunged into the dense undergrowth. "These trees are enormous." "If I don't mark my trail, I'll get lost in no time." The jungle was thick, a labyrinth of green that could easily turn into a prison for the unwary. To avoid getting disoriented, Yoriichi moved with light, swift steps, his long blade sweeping through the foliage like a brushstroke across paper. Anything too close—flowers, grasses, low branches—was mercilessly hacked down in his path. Having been granted a second life, Yoriichi's outlook had grown younger and more vibrant. … Gurgle, gurgle… Nearly forty minutes into his trek, following the dips in the terrain, Yoriichi finally stumbled upon a stream. It snaked through the island like a silver serpent weaving between the peaks. The banks were lined with lush green grass, and beyond them, towering trees reached toward the sky—massive species he'd never seen before. Yoriichi paused at the water's edge. He scanned the surroundings, then stepped toward a thick tree trunk roughly the width of a man's embrace. With a swing of his sword, he felled the tree, hacked off a segment, hollowed out the core, and fashioned a crude container. He dipped it into the stream to fill it with water. "…Huh?" "What's with this color?!" "And that… fishy smell?!" He stared at the wooden pail in his hands, shocked. Against the wood's brown hue, the stream water appeared faintly red. Alarmed, he glanced back toward the current—and realized the stream itself had turned a reddish tint. And it was deepening. The pale red was quickly becoming a dark, bloodlike hue. The thick, metallic stench of blood assaulted his senses. "What the hell…?" "What happened upstream?!" Yoriichi's brow furrowed. He stared toward the higher reaches of the stream, trying to make sense of the situation. After a brief moment of thought, he tossed the makeshift bucket aside, tightened his grip on his blade, and began following the stream upstream in search of the source of the contamination. He had finally found water—he had to find out what was poisoning it. If he could identify and remove the source, the stream would flush clean again within the hour. And just like that, the greatest problem of the moment would be resolved. He moved swiftly, tracing the flow of the stream. He didn't know how long he walked, but eventually, the forest thinned out. After climbing a sloped path, Yoriichi stepped into an open clearing—and what he saw stopped his breath cold. There, on the upstream plain, lay hundreds of corpses strewn across the blood-soaked ground. Blood pooled into rivulets that flowed into the stream, turning its waters red. A battlefield. The ground was slick with blood and torn flesh, bodies intermingled in such a way that friend and foe were indistinguishable. Not far from the massacre stood a ruined town, its buildings shattered, several plumes of black smoke rising ominously into the sky. Yoriichi narrowed his eyes. The dead were silent. There was no trace of life anywhere. But among the corpses, some uniforms caught his attention: once-white coats now soaked in blood, emblazoned with two large, black characters— Justice. "…The Navy?" On only his second day in the world of One Piece, Yoriichi had already come face to face with its brutal reality. Judging from the uniforms and the positions of the fallen, the bodies belonged to two distinct groups: Navy soldiers and civilians—farmers, villagers, wielding only pitchforks, hoes, and wooden clubs. And against them, on the opposite side of the battlefield, were the pirates—strong, well-armed, and fewer in number. Yoriichi surveyed the field. The pirates' corpses were far fewer than those of the Navy and townsfolk. And strangely, among the fallen civilians, there were no women or children. "Did the pirates win?" "Were the women and children taken…?" "Or did they manage to hide somewhere?" Yoriichi crossed the bloodstained field, deep in thought, and made his way toward the ruined town. Once-beautiful buildings now lay in shambles. The streets, once wide and bustling, were barricaded with overturned carts loaded with stone. He climbed over the wreckage. The cobbled road beneath his feet was soaked with blood. Standing in the heart of the ruins, Yoriichi felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. Even though he hadn't witnessed the massacre firsthand, the aftermath spoke volumes. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing left untouched by violence. He entered a nearby house. The living room was in chaos, furniture overturned. He gently pushed open a bedroom door. The stench of blood hit him like a wave. There was a corpse on the bed. Yoriichi's brow furrowed. He sighed and pulled a blanket over the body before quietly stepping out. "…So tragic." He searched the rest of the town in silence, finally emerging on the far side with a clenched jaw and a tighter grip on his sword. There were no demons here. But the cruelty of man needed no comparison. At the edge of the town stood a high cliff. Beyond it stretched the open sea. The sea breeze blew away the smell of death. Yoriichi drew his blade and looked down at it. The matte black surface reflected a blurred image of his face. At the base of the blade was a single etched character: Destroy. And in that moment, Yoriichi understood. He murmured to himself: "I think… I know what I have to do now." "With you, I'll bring a sliver of light to this world." "Black Blade—Dawnbreaker!" As the words left his lips, the ground around him stirred—dust lifted without wind, and an overwhelming, unspeakable pressure burst forth from within him, radiating in all directions. In the distant forest, trees rustled violently. Waves that had been crashing against the shore were suddenly repelled, sucked backward by an invisible force. Thousands of meters away, a Navy warship bearing a dog-shaped prow raced toward Ryūgin Island. At its helm stood a middle-aged man in a black suit, arms crossed, his Justice coat billowing behind him. His mustache was thick, his gaze sharp. BZZZZZZZT! Suddenly, a terrifying pressure washed over the ship. The ocean current reversed instantly. The man blinked in surprise—then grinned. "Haoshoku Haki…" "Never expected someone like that to emerge from the East Blue!" "Was it him who wiped out Unit E-23?" "Hahaha… Interesting. So, someone actually dares to raise a hand against the Navy. I won't let you go unpunished." As he spoke, a young marine ran up behind him and saluted. "Vice Admiral Garp! A strange current just appeared out of nowhere! It could be dangerous to continue on our current course. Should we adjust course?" Garp tilted his head slightly and smiled. "No need. Stay on course. The sea will settle soon enough." (End of Chapter)