Chapter 1 | "You brought me into the past."
"Un, deux, trois! You can do it, Mugi-chan!!"
"Come on, Rookie!!"
"Hang tough, Mugiwara-boy!!"
It's been almost ten hours since the hormone entered the rubber boy's bloodstream, yet the ear-piercing scream didn't let up even for a second to take a breather. Mr. 2's faith and determination was enough to touch the okamas' hearts as they started to cheer him on alongside Bon Clay.
Though not everyone was cheering him on. There were still two who hadn't moved from their spot — one sat in a meditative position in a corner far from where the huge, wooden door was, while the other merely took a deep drag from his cigar. Both of whom are convicts, who had been freed from the hell they're chained in and decided to wait to see if the rookie would survive.
Just as they hit the ten-hour mark, the screaming suddenly stopped.
Almost everyone present stared and waited with bated breath, as though if they stared hard enough, they'd be able to see what was going on on the other side of the thick wood. No one was brave enough to peek through the small peephole on the door.
"Pistol."
Just as they registered the soft whisper uttered from behind the closed door, the huge, wooden entryway was blasted off of its hinges with a huge BANG!!
Dozens of leather-cladded men had to leap out of its flight trajectory while the others stood rooted in their spots, staring in horror at splinters of wood that was now embedded into the opposite wall.
Sir Crocodile didn't even give it a sparing glance even as some of the broken off wood landed near his feet. His gaze was fixed towards the dark room. And just as footsteps could be heard making their way towards the opening, he felt a chilling presence growing stronger and heavier with every step they took.
He tensed and felt cold sweat slid down his neck, unaware of the bitterness engulfing his taste buds from when he accidentally bit off the cigar bud he was smoking.
He heard a grunt coming from his right and turned to see the former fishman shichibukai, "Knight of The Sea" Jinbe, looking as though a weight had been dropped upon him.
Crocodile narrowed his eyes. So I'm not the only one.
The blue fishman suddenly looked up and caught his gaze, "Do you feel that too, Crocodile?" Jinbe questioned, which was a bit futile since as soon as he took a look of the sand man's disgruntled expression, he didn't need any other confirmation from the man.
The steps kept on getting louder and the force stronger, until finally the figure stepped through the doorway and came out of the shadows, revealing to be the very boy they'd trapped within.
Crocodile frowned as he scrutinized the boy. He was definitely that insolent boy who'd disrupted his perfectly-manifactured plan. The height, that annoying scar, and outfit were there, still the same as before he'd been injected, but everything else? He was not how Crocodile remembered him to be.
His hair lengthened to the point where the ends reached the small curve of his back. His face was more rounded, eyes slanted, and nose upturned. His posture, though still lean and muscular, seemed to have grown more feminine than before, with his waist slimming and his hips widening. His chest — breasts? — even seemed to have grown a bit, his modesty maintained by an arm covering it.
There was even a large, intricate X-shaped wound that appeared in the center of his chest, which would've been alarming had it not seemed to be an old scar.
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