Trinket of Syzygy | One Piece fanfic

002.

A Bittersweet Departure

Quince's voice deepens, which indicated his deep-seated rage. From his presence alone, an aura of ruthlessness and bravado, radiated all throughout. It grew into a deafening bellow that resounded like a blaring horn.  Quince motions forth and from his partly sealed lips, uttered, "Power Pulse". Suddenly, oversized horns jutted out of his temples, his build muscly and fibrous. Quince shuffles towards the bandit, who is now trembling, fully submissive towards the towering ram before him. "P... please... don't hurt me..." Wracked by regret, the bandit already knew that he wasn't going to end up leaving, unscathed. He felt completely immobilized and has lost all hope of slipping his way out of the fray. "I could've been splurging on another apple pie right now. I could've been celebrating my birthday in peace. WE could've been spending all noon to drink our worries away and be merry, hadn't it been for bastards like you." Clearly, Quince for the most part, displays his heroism over such trivial matters. He has always been one to strike a balance between cruelty and frivolity, even in times of overbearing tension. Although, he is also fully aware of the fact that should he ever allow this ordeal to fester, the townspeople could have been forced to face far more adversities and peril that have come to bite at their heels. Rosa stood in a corner as her pupils quivered. She couldn't believe what she was just about to witness. For some reason, this also took her on a steep walk, down memory lane and began piecing everything together, as if there was something she could've realized in the past. It deeply tugged onto her for a brief moment, until she heard an impactful thwack from the other side of the room, then followed by a crackling noise.

It was Quince's bone-fracturing punch that plunged straight into the trembling bandit. One hit is all it took for the fear of the bandit to reach its climax. His consciousness completely trailed off. Although, it wasn't over. It never was, so to speak. A distant clomping of footsteps could be heard through the restaurant's doorway. Sharply, it clacked against the dining room's limestone tiles. It was made clear to both Rosa and Quince that opposing reinforcements were coming their way.  Four other bandits, having heard the clamorous commotion, have stepped into action. One of which, upon arrival, barked out a derisive laugh, utterly unaware of the situation. They eyed down the bandit for a short while, "Idiot can't even take out a little..." Before he could finish his sentence, he noticed a clump of overgrown horns, charging directly at them. Due to his preoccupied spiel, they were unable to react quickly enough. Hence, the belts that each of them wore collectively, were snagged by the ram's appendages, securing them firmly against the wall. Quince turned to Rosa and spoke to her tacitly. He was gesturing that she should immediately leave the scene and call for help. Rosa understood in an instant and knew that she was only going to end up getting in the way, had she intervened. She had stolen one final glance from the young male and proceeded to rush outside, biting on her lower lip. A ring of smoke surrounded Quince's curved hooves. Like an enraged bull, the ram-like bloke skimmed his left sole across the floor, as though he was warming up prior to the home stretch. His hazel eyes resembled a pair of fiery voids that are redolent of both tenacity and protracted fury. Harboring zero mercy for the quintet, he locked his gazed upon the concentrated bunch and lunged into them, head first. He bashed their bodies through the wall, leading to a sudden collapse of cumbersome rubble and hardwood splinters that were meant to underpin the structure's eaves. The true potency of his offensive form, "Power Pulse" was thus demonstrated, the haughty bandits, sprawling across the outdoor clearing and into a mass of prickly shrubbery.  Within what seemed to be a few, mere minutes, all five of them were left unconscious. Soot, grime, leaves, and blood strewn all over their wasted bodies. On top of that, it didn't take long for Quince to hamper his frustration and replenish his composure. "Phew.. Well, one thing's for sure is that I certainly did a number on this place. I wonder how Claudine would react to this.." He momentarily shuddered at the thought of his foster mother, pummeling him to death. His laden horns retracted into his temples, as his body reverted to its original size. It was only then when he noticed a glimpse of a scrunched up paper, laying flat on the porcelain floor. With a token hint of reluctance, Quince inched forward and stooped down, before running his fingers across the paper's crimps. Each consecutive press was followed by a crunch, as he caressed it in an investigative manner. Later, he flipped the paper back into its frontal aspect and widened his eyes at the sight of outlined illustrations etched in its body. It panned out to be a small map that leads to a specific area, with an evident red circle plotted over the island's edge. Needless to say, it appeared to signify that the bandit's supposed destination bears bountiful treasures. Before anything, he briskly slid the map into his pocket and fixated his vision upon the heap of redwood and marble, left in the wake of destruction, with minuscule residue plummeting down sporadically.