Back on the pirate island of Hachinosu, the chaos had not slowed for even a second.
The island itself seemed to be screaming.
Explosions echoed from one end of the battlefield to the other as Vice Admiral Garp continued his rampage against the Blackbeard Pirates, every clash sending shockwaves through stone and steel alike. Entire buildings had already been reduced to rubble, the air thick with smoke, dust, and the unmistakable pressure of monstrous Haki colliding again and again.
And not far from that devastation, another battle was unfolding—far more personal, far more desperate.
Takeshi stood bloodied and battered, his chest rising and falling heavily. His vice admiral coat was torn, his body marked with fresh wounds, yet his stance remained firm. Even now, knowing he was completely outmatched, he refused to fall.
Across from him stood Hirito.
The Bloody Wolf.
His red hair flowed freely in the wind, eyes glowing with predatory delight as he watched Takeshi struggle back into position. There was no urgency in his posture, no tension—only cruel amusement, as though this entire encounter was little more than a game.
Hirito: oh looks like the little pup, has some bite, that's good,
He cackled, the sound cutting through the battlefield like a blade.
Takeshi cracked his knuckles despite the pain, forcing himself to breathe steadily.
Takeshi: I wonder, wouldn't you rather fight vice admiral Garp, he's undoubtedly the strongest here, so why fight me?
For a moment, Hirito simply blinked, as if the question genuinely surprised him.
Then he laughed again, louder this time.
Hirito: Oh please! While it would undoubtedly be a fun fight, I only fight people who I want to play with, basically I have no hatred towards Garp and we haven't even met before, So I can't torture him, but you though, I can have plenty of fun with a weakling like you
The words struck harder than any blow.
Takeshi growled and launched forward without hesitation, the ground cracking beneath his feet as he closed the distance in an instant. Hirito's grin widened, welcoming the attack.
Takeshi leapt, twisting his body midair and bringing his heel down with everything he had.
Takeshi: void! Axe!
Haki surged through his leg, compressing the air into a crushing force aimed straight at Hirito's skull.
It never landed.
A massive hand formed entirely of blood surged upward and caught Takeshi's leg mid-swing, stopping the attack dead.
Hirito: Sanguine Grasp!
The grip tightened.
Before Takeshi could react, his world spun violently.
Hirito hurled him through a wall as if he weighed nothing. Stone shattered on impact, debris exploding outward as Takeshi crashed through, only to be yanked back again—slammed into the ground, dragged, and smashed down once more. Each impact drove the breath from his lungs, pain radiating through his entire body.
Takeshi: ugh
Hirito stood over him, towering, blood dripping lazily from the malformed limb as he looked down with clear disappointment.
Hirito: this isn't as fun as I thought it would be, just like I thought, you are strong, but you're weak, you cling to what you're supposed to do and not what you want to do
The blood hand released Takeshi's leg, tossing it aside as Hirito sighed.
Hirito: no matter how strong you are, you'll always lose, I knew your grandpa back when he was in his prime, he was a monster, always appearing trying to challenge me or my brother, he wasn't trying to capture us because it's what he thought he should do, one day he made the decision himself and decided to do it, that's how people grow strong, by doing what they want, I love torturing and killing and fighting, that's how I got strong!
A blade of blood formed seamlessly from Hirito's arm, lengthening, sharpening, glowing with dark menace as he raised it high above Takeshi.
For a fraction of a second, Takeshi saw death.
And then—
Everything changed.
He was no longer on Hachinosu.
He was younger. Smaller.
He lay on his back in a training yard, the cold steel of a sabre hovering just an inch from his throat. His arms trembled from exhaustion.
Shirokiri stood above him, expression unreadable.
Shirokiri: You've lost again, you should be stronger than this by now, your brother is stronger, why aren't you?
Takeshi tried to rise, but the blade pressed closer.
Hirito's voice echoed over the memory.
Hirito: you heard me, tell me why you aren't strong!
Takeshi clenched his fists.
Takeshi: because of my conviction, or at least that's what you keep saying
Shirokiri's voice sharpened.
Shirokiri: exactly! You are trying to continue my legacy! And that gaol was mine! Not yours!
The blade lowered.
Shirokiri looked at his grandson—not with anger, but expectation.
Shirokiri: I'm not saying you shouldn't follow in my footsteps, in fact I'm glad you want to become a marine, but something you need to get through your thick skull is that you need to figure out, why you fight! What your brand of justice is!
Takeshi's eyes snapped open.
Reality slammed back into place.
The blood blade was inches from his face.
And his hand closed around it.
The blade shattered.
Blood scattered like shattered glass as Takeshi surged upward, sweeping Hirito's legs out from under him in one fluid, decisive motion. The Bloody Wolf hit the ground hard—only for laughter to erupt from his throat.
Hirito: Yeah! That's more like it!
He sprang back to his feet, eyes burning with feral excitement now.
Hirito: Scarlet drill
A rotating lance of blood formed around his arm, spinning violently, compressing into a deadly point meant to bore through anything in its path.
Takeshi drew back his fist, Haki roaring around it.
Takeshi: Piercing fang!
They faced each other, power swelling, the gap between them vast—but irrelevant.
Takeshi (thinking): why I fight huh?, I can figure that out later, right now all I'm fighting for, is too survive and to get my comrades home safely, that's it
The ground detonated as they charged.
They stopped an inch apart, heels grinding into broken stone, and swung.
The collision unleashed a massive shockwave that rippled across the battlefield, tearing debris from the ground and shaking the island itself.
This fight would not last much longer.
But for this moment—
It was a clash worth witnessing.
And that's a wrap
Honestly I'm doing a much better job with this than I thought I would
