On the island of Hachinosu — also known as Pirate Island — chaos ruled.
Fires burned between shattered buildings. Smoke crawled across the ground. Pirates shouted, laughed, screamed, and ran in every direction.
Captain Coby, a member of SWORD, was on the move.
He had escaped.
And the entire island was turning upside down because of it.
Coby sprinted through broken streets, breath heavy, eyes sharp, searching desperately for a way off the island.
But he didn't get far.
A group of bloodthirsty pirates flooded out from between ruined buildings, surrounding him in a tightening circle. Rifles were raised. Fingers curled around triggers. Smiles full of rot and cruelty spread across their faces.
Then the guns bloomed.
The metal barrels burst into flowers.
Petals erupted from the muzzles. Vines crawled down the frames. Powder ignited into blossoms instead of fire.
Bullets struck the air and unraveled into drifting petals.
The pirates froze.
This was thanks to SWORD's resident sniper, Hibari — Navy HQ commander — using flower rounds to turn gunpowder into living growth.
She stood at a distance, rifle still raised, face red, hands shaking.
The same woman who had a massive crush on Coby.
And absolutely no idea how to deal with it.
Elsewhere on the island, another force was moving.
Prince Grus — Rear Admiral, member of SWORD, Coby's self-declared rival.
Clay surged from the streets as he advanced. It poured from his hands, rising into massive golems. Limbs formed. Faces hardened. Hulking constructs crashed through pirate groups like living battering rams.
Every movement of his fingers pulled them like marionettes.
Buildings were smashed aside.
Pirates were scooped up, crushed, or hurled.
Nearby, Kujaku was already at work.
Her whip cracked through the air — not striking bodies, but structures.
Stone bent.
Walls lurched.
Entire buildings twisted, dragged, and repositioned, slowly herding pirates into a massive closing circle.
The island itself was being shaped into a cage.
And then there was someone else.
Someone whose presence pressed down on the air itself.
Vice Admiral Takeshi Hoshino.
ShiroKiba.
The White Fang.
He stood alone at an intersection drowned in smoke and fire.
He wore a sleeveless Marine uniform. His Vice Admiral coat flowed behind him in the heat. His short white hair was spiked and wild. Dark red eyes scanned the battlefield without excitement or fear.
His arms and face were layered with scars — deep, old, and earned.
A heavy burn mark wrapped his arm like a blackened band.
The grandson of a former Admiral.
A man who had once given Akuma and Hirito serious trouble.
Takeshi and Ryo had never met.
