The horizons grew dark as clouds started gathering when the sea churned ominously. Borsalino Boromante was on the highest view in Mariner's Haven, his ever-present grin stretched across the face. Next to him, the much younger Sakazuki narrowed his eyes, peering into the waters as if trying to see further through them.

"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled. "I think our little paradise is about to get a wakeup call, ne?"

Sakazuki's hands clenched into fists, and through his skin wisps of steam erupted. "Pirates," and he spat it like a venomous word.

As if summoned by his frustration, rounding the bend was one giant ship with sails of bloody red, a grinning skull wreathed in fire at their center—the sigil that had spent a week standing out like a beacon in his mind, associated with the infamous Bloody Scourge pirates.

"My, my," Borsalino chuckled, his voice laced with anticipation. "If it isn't Captain 'Hellfire' Hank and his merry band of murderers. What a delightful surprise."

Sakazuki turned to him, eyes burning with fury. "You know them?"

Borsalino's grin widened impossibly. "Oh, I know of them, Saka-chan. They're quite the celebrities in certain circles. Known for their… thorough approach to pillaging."

Captain Boromante jerked out of his office, sour expression twisted up as he eyed the incoming threat. "Boys!" he barked. "Get to safety. This is no place for children."

Borsalino cackled, his laugh rang hollow, unnaturally loud across the harbor. "Ooh, but Pop, we ain't just any children, remember? We're the future of justice! Right?"

The Captain narrowed, feeling a cold shiver down his spine at the gleam in his son's eyes. "This is not a game, Borsalino. These pirates are-"

"Monsters?" Sakazuki interrupted, his voice horribly calm. "Good. It's time they met some real monsters."

Chaos reigned the moment the ship belonging to the Crimson Scourge dropped anchor in the harbor. The pirates converged on the streets, with the enormous figure of 'Hellfire' Hank leading the charge. Laughter burst from the pirate captain across the harbor as his Logia fire Devil Fruit powers set buildings ablaze.

"Get the civilians to safety!" Captain Boromante charged into the thick of it, his sword flashing in the firelight. "I'll deal with Hank!"

Borsalino watched further as the carnage unfolded, not losing his grin for one heartbeat. "Ooh, Saka-chan, isn't it wonderful? This destruction. This injustice. Begging to be corrected."

Sakazuki nodded, his eyes mirroring the flames that consumed their home. "Let's show them what true justice looks like."

As Captain Boromante clashed with 'Hellfire' Hank, trading blows that shook the very foundations of Mariner's Haven, two small figures darted through the chaos. Borsalino moved like light itself, appearing and then disappearing in flashes that left pirates stumbling and confused. Sakazuki was a force of nature, his fists coated in magma that melted through weapons and flesh alike.

'"What the hell?!" Hank roared as his concentration was broken, for a second, from his duel with Boromante. "Since when do Marines use child soldiers?"

The pale face of Captain Boromante watched as his son and Sakazuki carved their way through the pirate ranks. "No. Boys, stop! This isn't-"

But his words were drowned by Borsalino's laughter and the screams of burning pirates.

Unsurprisingly, that Battle was soon to be shifted. The Crimson Scourge, despite their astonishing brutality, stood no chance against the unholy combination of Borsalino's speed and Sakazuki's blunt destructive power.

"Pop!" came the cheerful sound of Borsalino amidst all the carnage. "We are in good hands here. Why don't you show Captain Hank what a real Marine can do?"

Boromante stumbled, proud of his son's prowess, and horrified at the ruthlessness on display. But as Hank launched another fiery assault, he steeled himself and charged forward.

At last, it was almost anticlimactic. 'Hellfire' Hank lay defeated at Captain Boromante's feet, his crew either captured or scattered to the winds, and all was quiet. But as the dust settled and the fires smoldered, an eerie silence fell over Mariner's Haven.

Borsalino and Sakazuki stood dead center in the wreckage, their little forms casting long shadows as the sun fell. Captain Boromante approached them carefully, his face twisted with so many mixed emotions; it looked like it might split at the seams.

"Boys," he began, voice hoarse. "What you did today was."

"Justice," Sakazuki responded with such an air of firmness, his eyes still blazing with that intensity.

"Ooh, more than that, Saka-chan," drawled Borsalino, his grin ever wider. "It was absolute justice."

Nightfall had spread its cloak over the scarred ruins of Mariner's Haven. Captain Boromante gazed down at the two boys before him: one his son by blood, and the other swiftly becoming a son in spirit. He saw in them the future of the Marines—justice itself. Only for the first time, within the lengthened perspective of a long career, he glimpsed a flicker of fear at what that future might bring.

"C'mon," he finally said, turning toward home. "We have a lot to discuss."

Borsalino and Sakazuki fell in, their small forms silhouetted against the burning horizon. The age of absolute justice reared its head for its virgin, blood-slick steps, and the world would never be the same.

The aftermath of the Crimson Scourge's attack hung over Mariner's Haven like a pall. Alone in his study, Captain Boromante sat at his desk, his lined, leathered face filled with worry as he looked down at the two before him: Borsalino's ever-present grin seemed to mock the gravity of the situation at hand, while Sakazuki's eyes smoldered with barely contained fury.

"Boys," the Captain began, his voice heavy, "what went down yesterday… it wasn't right."

The smile, impossibly, grew wider as Borsalino's head tipped back impossibly. "Ooh? But Pop, we saved the day, didn't we? Isn't that what justice is all about?"

Behind those guileless orbs whirred a mind centuries older, more calculating. Borsalino Boromante was no mere 8-year-old prodigy; to Dependency, he was a man out of time and space, his mind transplanted into this young body with the puppet master Lex Luthor. The irony, he almost wanted to laugh, around how he found himself playing at being a child whilst carrying worlds in his head.

"It's not that simple, Borsalino," Captain Boromante sighed. "The level of violence you both displayed… it's just not normal for children your age. I'm worried about what this might be doing to you. To both of you."

Sakazuki stepped forward, the small frame radiating an intensity that belied his years. "With all due respect sir, we did what was necessary. The pirates were a threat and we neutralized that threat. Isn't that what the Marines stand for?"

Captain Boromante's frown deepened. "The Marines stand for justice, Sakazuki. But there's a fine line between justice and vengeance. I fear you boys might be straying too close to that line."

Borsalino's laugh echoed unnaturally in the small room. "Oh, Pop, you worry too much! We're just eager to learn, to become the best Marines we can be. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

He fixed his gaze on his son's face, narrowed, for something—for some glimpse of the innocent child slowly leaving him, maybe. But all he could see was that chilling smile and impassive eyes behind the everlasting sunglasses.

"I want you to grow up to be good men," he slowly went on. "Men who understand the weight of their actions, the responsibility that comes with power."

Sakazuki nodded seriously. "We understand, sir. We will be more careful in the future. Right, Borsalino?"

"Ooh, absolutely!" Borsalino chirped, his voice oozing sincerity that only an adult mind could conjure up that perfectly. "We will prove to be the most responsible little Marines you ever did see. No more gratuitous violence, cross our hearts!"

For a moment, Captain Boromante looked at the two boys before him, and his instinct battled to win over his will to trust them. He sighed at last. "Okay, boys. I believe both of you. But remember being a Marine isn't by strength alone; it also entails wisdom, compassion, and wisdom to show mercy."

And as though on cue, a Marine came tumbling through the open doors of the study. His face was bone white, and he wore the expression of a man panicked. "Captain! It's 'Hellfire' Hank! He's escaped!"

The room fell into instant silence as the weight of the new threat sank in over them like a shroud. Captain Boromante leapt to his feet, barking orders as he rushed out the door.

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Amidst the chaos, Borsalino now wore a grin more predatory than ever as he turned to Sakazuki. "Ooh, Saka-chan, looks like our little game's not through yet. Now, what do you say we go hunting?"

Sakazuki's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Any time."

Night came down on Mariner's Haven, and the whispers just started to rise up once more about 'Hellfire' Hank and his escape. For all his scurvy renown, that pirate captain had vanished into thin air. Only a cryptic warning in his own bloody hand, sprawled across his cell wall—marking his passage: "The fire rises. Be ready."

Two small figures slipped away from the Boromante household into the night. Of a madman's pace was Borsalino's mind—plans within plans unfolding.

"Nee, Saka-chan," he drawled as they made their way towards the docks, "what do you say we make things a little more. interesting?"

Sakazuki's answer was a grim smile that promised retribution. "I'm listening."

As the stars blinked into existence above them, an anticipatory shudder ran through Borsalino. The game was finally afoot, and he was supposed to be in full control.

The night was but young, and the hunt was on.

The heavy night smelled strongly of scorching wood and flesh. Streams of water trickled down the eyes of Captain Boromante as the acrid smoke, from 'Hellfire' Hank's smoldering fingertips, consumed the old, wooden fibers throughout the long-abandoned warehouse. The blaze was entrapping.

"Well, well, Captain," rasped Hank, a cruel smile tugging at his already scarred features. "Looks like the tables of fate have indeed turned, eh? None of your precious little monsters to come save you now."

Boromante coughed up blood, the look in his eyes defiant. "They ain't monsters, Hank. They're kids. And they're more man than you'll ever be."

Hank laughed and the sound bounced off the grimy walls. "Kids? Oh, Captain. You really have no idea what you're dealing with, do you?"

A few towns over, Borsalino jerked his head up, grin faltering for the first time in years. Something was wrong. He could feel it in the air, a power, a disturbance in the very fabric of the world he had come to manipulate.

"Saka-chan, we need to move. Now."

Sakazuki appeared at his side, eyes already blazing with anticipation. "What is it?"

"Pop's in trouble. I can feel it." Calculations and chances ran through his mind behind eyes that seemed all too young. "Hellfire's made his move."

Street lamps whipped past in a blur as they sprinted through the Mariner's Haven night, the whispers of panic and bitter acrid scent of smoke on the wind. Rounding a corner, Borsalino skidded to a stop, his blood turning to ice in his veins.

There, underneath the flickering street lamps, was a body—charred beyond identification, except for a single lock of golden hair.

"Solara," Sakazuki breathed, voice strung taut with shock.

Borsalino knelt beside the body, and his mind flashed back to expressions of mirth shared silently, clichéd stolen glances, a sweetness that had also cut straight through to his jaded adult awareness: Solara, the baker's daughter, never looking at him with avarice or suspicion, never really wanting anything out of this cruel sham of a game.

For an instant, for a moment, his slow mask fell. Rage, cold and awful, twisted Borsalino's features into something nonhuman. His hand shook as he reached to shut Solara's still-open, terror-filled eyes.

"Borsalino," Sakazuki's voice cut through the haze of fury. "We need to keep moving. Your father—"

"Yeah," Borsalino interrupted, standing. The smile was back in place, but now it held an edge that would have chilled even the bravest soul. "Yes, we mustn't keep Pop waiting, ne? After all, we have so much to discuss with our dear friend Hank."

As they kept on running on the darkened streets, Borsalino's mind was in an absolute whirl. Plans that he'd put so carefully together, the long-game strategy he'd been playing since coming into this world, it all threatened to unravel in the wake of this sudden, unforeseen loss.

"Saka-chan," he said, voice low and controlled. "When we find Hank, I want you to promise me something."

Sakazuki glanced at him, curiosity warring for a moment with the ever-present anger in his eyes.

"What?"

"No matter what happens, no matter what you see or hear, you follow my lead. Can you do that?"

For a moment, Sakazuki hesitated. Something was different about his friend, and he felt it, even at that tender age. But then he nodded, resolute. "Always."

That put a fuller grin on Borsalino, which was an ugly thing in the shifting flicker of shadows. "Good. Because tonight, Saka-chan, we're going to teach Hellfire Hank the real meaning of justice."

Approaching the warehouse district, with the sounds of struggle ringing through the air, Borsalino felt the familiar thrill of anticipation stir in his veins. The game had changed; the stakes were higher than he had imagined. But that only made it more exciting.

Poor Hank, he thought, as his mind already began to work out a thousand exquisite torments. You have no idea what inferno you have just stepped into.

Here the night lay before them, pregnant with possibility and violence.

The sprawling shadow of the warehouse loomed before them against the star-sprinkled sky. Borsalino and Sakazuki crouched in the darkness, their young bodies racked by a mixture of anticipation and dread.

Inside they could hear the struggle, muffled but plainly continuing, punctuated by Hellfire Hank's grating guffaws.

"Remember, Saka-chan," Borsalino was muttering very lowly now, the grin gone from his face, replaced by a thin, taut line. "We can't rush in. One wrong move, an' Pop's—"

"I know," Sakazuki growled, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles showed white. "But how long do we wait?"

Before Borsalino could answer, Hank's voice suddenly boomed out, as if he'd been waiting for this very moment. "Come on in, boys! I know you're out there. Let's have a little chat, shall we?"

Swallowing hard, the two youths entered the warehouse. The scene before them was similar to something from a nightmare. Captain Boromante was hung out in the middle from the rafters, a bloody, battered mass. Hank stood by him, one flaming hand resting in the air beside the Captain's face.

"Ah, here they are!" Hank cackled, "The little monsters themselves. So tell me, boys, what's it like to be the heroes of Mariner's Haven?"

Borsalino's mind raced as he realized he was not fast enough yet to strike Hank down before the pirate could do damage to his father. Worse, he could sense the crackling energy of Haki surrounding Hank—a power that would outmatch his for now.

"Let him go, Hank," Borsalino said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "This is between us now."

Hank's face split into an awful grin that pulled his scarred face out of shape. "Ah, but you're wrong, light. This? This is about potential. Destiny."

Hank began to pace, his eyes never leaving the boys. "You see, I've been seen you two. The things you've done, the power you possess—it's extraordinary. But, sandbagged, tethered, hog-tied by grandmothers' stories of doing good."

Captain Boromante struggled weakly against his bonds. "Don't… listen to him… boys."

"Quiet, old man," Hank snarled, but he was already turning back to Borsalino and Sakazuki. "Think about it. With your powers, your intellect—you could reshape this world. No more corrupt governments, no more pirate scum. Just pure, unadulterated order."

Borsalino felt Sakazuki go very still beside him. His friend was listening, maybe, too closely.

"But there's one thing holding you back," Hank continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "One last tie to your old, weak selves." With a sudden, violent motion, Hank's flaming hand plunged into Captain Boromante's chest.

Time seemed to slow. Borsalino watched—his adult mind screaming in horror behind the façade of a child's face—as his father's eyes widened in shock, in pain. Captain Boromante's mouth opened, but no sound came out—merely a tiny trickle of blood.

"Pop!" Sakazuki's anguished cry cut through the warehouse like a knife.

Hank withdrew his hand, letting Captain Boromante's lifeless body swing gently from the rafters. "There," he said, almost gently. "Now you're free. Free to become what you were always meant to be."

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the warehouse, Sakazuki exploded into action. His body transformed, magma flowing from his skin as he launched himself at Hank.

Borsalino then just stood paralyzed at that mix of emotions; grief, rage, and another element, a cold calculating fury that could consume him whole. His thoughts were running amok while Sakazuki wrestled Hank, filling their room with steam and the smell of burnt flesh, something in Borsalino seemed to snap there.

His grin sprang back, wider and more terrible than before. Light began to gather around him, pulsating with an intensity that drove the shadows scurrying towards the corners of the warehouse.

"Ooh, Hank-san," he called out, his voice dripping in a sweetness that belied the horror about to come. "I reckon it's the only time we showed you what our real potential is."

The warehouse turned into an arc furnace right alongside the small figure of Borsalino, jittering with unrestrained power. The battle that would come to pass speaks whispers of itself; it is a tale of two children who, one terrible night, become the monsters they had always been fated to be.

The warehouse became a heel pit of light and magma, air so thick with smoke and the acridly salty smell of burning flesh. Borsalino and Sakazuki fought with a fury that belied their times being young, small bodies pushed to the very limits of endurance. "Come on, boys!" taunted Hank, blocking Sakazuki's magma fist with a Haki-infused arm. "Is this all the potential you have? Show me what you're really capable of!"

Borsalino's chest heaved with the discharge of yet another barrage of light beams. "Ooh, Hank-san," he panted, his ever-present grin now a rictus of pain and determination. "You may want to be careful what you wish for."

Each time he fired an assault, Hank would be returning with a counter. One step ahead, he moved with this fluid grace, instinct honed by endless years of combat experience.

"You see?" Hank laughed, ducking under Sakazuki's berserker swing. "THIS is power. This is what you could become!"

Time lost all meaning in the inferno of their battle, as hours passed—or perhaps it was only minutes. Borsalino felt his strength waning with each moment that passed, his light growing dimmer. Beside him, Sakazuki's magma had cooled and cracked, revealing the child beyond.

"I have to admit." painted Hank, who was barely out of breath, "You've impressed me, but you're still not there yet. You need more."

Faster still, even beyond what had surprised Borsalino, Hank closed the distance. His wreathed fist in flames and Haki connected with Sakazuki's jaw. The boy flew across the warehouse, crashing into a stack of crates with a sickening crunch.

"Saka-chan!" Borsalino cried, his mask of calm cracking.

Turning to Hank, light began gathering around his fists. "You'll pay for that, Hank-san."

But he was already moving, a vicious knee to the stomach causing all the breath to leave Borsalino's lungs. He gasped for breath as Hank took him by the throat and hoisted him off the ground.

"Hmm," Hank mused, face millimeters away from Borsalino, half-scarred, the other half gleaming dully, "I think I miscalculated. You might not be the right guy to handle this much power, after all. Maybe. I should just put an end to this here and now."

Borsalino weakly struggled, the edges of his vision darkening. He felt the heat from that free hand of Hank's, the killing blow almost certainly about to come. At that moment, Borsalino felt something he hadn't experienced in a very long time—fear.

"Ready to say those final words, light-headed?" Hank jeered.

Borsalino gave a weak smile. "Just one moment. Hank-san. Duck."

Confusion flitted over Hank's face, but an instant later, a massive fist exploded from his chest in a spray of blood and bone.

"Looks like I made it just in time," Garp growled, his knuckles dripping with Hank's blood. "You boys alright?"

Borsalino couldn't answer. The world sped up around him, darkness lapping at his vision from the edges of his eyes. And then, there was Sakazuki, bloody and battered, crawling towards him.

"Borsalino." Sakazuki rasped.

Borsalino was oddly relieved to see the world fade to black, though he was tired beyond belief. His was a searing quest for retribution, coupled with the will he longed for in order never to feel so impotent again.

After that terrible night, as Mariner's Haven smoldered and two young boys lay broken in body yet not in spirit, a seed was planted, a seed that would later bloom into something very horrible indeed, far greater than anything Hellfire Hank could have dreamt up.