It had been eleven long years since that fateful night in Mariner's Haven. Now nineteen, Borsalino Boromante had hardened into a seasoned Marine Captain, his immense, hulking frame silhouetted against a setting sun as he stood atop the training grounds of Marineford. Beside him, Vice Admiral Garp watched with a mix of pride and concern as Sakazuki—now a Commodore—cut loose with a torrent of magma against a reinforced training dummy.

"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled, grin firmly in place. "You might want to dial it back a notch. We wouldn't want to melt the entire island, now would we?"

Sakazuki's response was a grunt, focus unwavering as he continued his assault. Garp sighed, shaking his head.

"You two have come a long way," the old warrior mused. "But sometimes I wonder if I've created monsters instead of Marines."

Borsalino turned to his mentor; his ever-present smile took on a razor-sharp edge. "Now, now, Garp-san. Monsters are exactly what this world needs to maintain order, wouldn't you agree?"

With the sun dipping below the horizon, Borsalino retired to his quarters. The room was sparse except for a single photograph placed on the nightstand—a smiling young girl whose hair was as golden as sunlight. Solara. His first friend and what could've been his future love was merely another casualty of that horrific night.

"Ooh, Solara-chan," Borsalino said with a murmur, his fingers tracing the outline of the frame. "If only you could see us now."

A knock at the door broke into his reverie. "Enter," he called out, his voice slipping immediately back into its normal lazy drawl.

Sakazuki stepped in, his face set in its perpetual scowl. "Borsalino," he growled. "We need to talk."

Borsalino lifted an eyebrow. "About what, Saka-chan? Your inability to smile? I keep telling you, it's not that hard. Just lift the corners of your mouth, like this." He demonstrated, his grin widening to almost impossible proportions.

Sakazuki's scowl deepened. "This isn't a joke. Your power. it's growing too quickly. The others are starting to notice. To fear."

The grin never wavered from Borsalino's face, but something cold and calculating flickered in his eyes. "Ooh? And what exactly are they afraid of, Saka-chan? That I've mastered Haki faster than anyone in Marine history? That I can use Conqueror's Haki with a thought?"

To drive the point further home, he released a pulse of Conqueror's Haki that was subtle enough not to alert anyone outside the room but strong enough to make Sakazuki stumble.

"Or maybe," Borsalino continued, his voice dipping down to a whisper, "they are afraid of this." He raised his hand, and the air about it seemed to ripple like light bent, wrenched, curved in impossible patterns as through his light powers simulated his Damage Data Insight

Sakazuki's eyes widened. "What. What is that?"

Borsalino grinned, his smile going a little feral. "Just a little something I managed to pick up. Call it 'Damage Data Insight.' It lets me analyze and predict damage patterns with near-perfect ease. Combine that with my… shall we say, improved mental faculties, and well…" He allowed the rest of the implication to dangle and neglected to mention that he no longer felt any pain, as this replaced his pain receptors.

Sakazuki's head was shaking, his eyes a mix of awe and fear. "Borsalino. What are we becoming?"

A momentary lapse of control and Sakazuki saw hidden behind the mask: hurt, anger burning as brightly as ever. "What we were always meant to be, Saka-chan. Instruments of absolute justice. The monsters who will reshape this world."

As he turned his back on him and turned away, the attention of Borsalino worriedly turned again into the picture of Solara. "Soon," he choked out, barely a whisper. "Someday, we shall have a world where no one else needs to go through the same things that we have. No matter what it takes.".

Before the full-length mirror in his quarters, Borsalino Boromante stood, a wry smile playing upon his lips. The gangly, awkward youth with the perpetual squint was gone, in his place a man of striking beauty, his features chiseled and refined, his eyes bright with an otherworldly intelligence.

"Ooh, Rey-chan," he murmured to his reflection, "you've certainly made quite the difference, haven't you?"

It was through the Store System that he encountered when he was dead and was able to afford any new template with the Units he saved up, all with Rey Palpatine, also referred to as Rey Skywalker's abilities and experiences. The power brought a tint of physical change along which barely left him recognizable.

A knock at the door broke into his thoughts. "Enter," he called, his voice a lazy drawl that belied the sharp mind behind it.

Dr. Vegapunk, the Marines' chief scientific officer stepped into the room. The elderly scientist's eyes widened at the sight of Borsalino's new appearance. "Captain Boromante? Is that really you?"

Borsalino's smile broadened. "Flesh and blood, Doc. Or should I say, new flesh? Now, shall we discuss those improvements to the Pacifista project?"

The scientific wing of Marineford bustled with activity as the strutting figure that was Borsalino turned heads at every step. Scientists and technicians alike found themselves drawn to his magnetism that contrasted so greatly against the awkward young man before them.

Entering the main laboratory, half-filled with incomplete projects and experimental weaponry, Borsalino was washed through by both Rey's bond to the Force and his inner genius to see all sorts of patterns and possibilities where others saw chaos.

"Gentlemen," he addressed the assembled team, his voice carrying an authority that silenced all chatter. "I believe we've been thinking too small. Why settle for human-sized Pacifistas when we could create something… Grander?"

He approached a holographic display, his fingers dancing across the controls with inhuman speed and precision. The image shifted, morphing into a massive, mountain-sized weapon.

"Imagine," Borsalino went on, his eyes flashing with an enthusiasm that was at the same time both exhilarating and nightmarish. "A mobile command center. A battle station with the power to destroy whole islands at a single blast. We could call it… the Death Star."

The room erupted into gasps and murmurs. Dr. Vegapunk stepped out ahead, his face suddenly bloodless. "Captain Boromante, what you're saying here. It's something so beyond anything we have ever tried. Resources required, the ethics involved."

Borsalino smiled never flinching as he did so at the scientist. "Ooh, Doc, don't you see? This is how we bring absolute justice into the world. No more chasing pirates across seas and whatnot. No more prolonged battles. Just swift, decisive action."

By the afternoon, Borsalino's presence had swept through the scientific branch like wildfire. Ideas now developed into projects revolutionized old ones, enhanced by Rey's memories of advanced technology from another galaxy.

But with every hour that passed, something seemed to grow in the shadows behind his eyes. The playful drawl became tinged with something colder, more calculating.

It was late, the vast majority of the staff retired for the night, when Borsalino stood alone in the lab, staring into the holographic plans for his Death Star.

"You know," a gravelly voice came from behind him, "power like that tends to corrupt."

He turned to find Vice Admiral Garp standing in the doorway.

"Ooh, Garp-san," Borsalino breathed, his laughter still light, though his voice was silk, his eyes hard like crystal that could shatter and scatter into a thousand pieces. "Corruption implies a fall from grace. But what if this is exactly what I was meant to become?"

Garp took a step forward; his massive frame somehow managing to cast a shadow over the younger man. "Borsalino, my boy, I've watched you grow. Seen the pain you've carried. But this path you're on. it's dangerous."

Something in his eyes riffled, like the boy he once was, a scared, angry kid, then was gone, replaced by a cold calculation that belied a man who had tasted true power.

"Dangerous?" Borsalino laughed, the sound holding little real amusement. "No, Garp-san. What's dangerous is a world where pirates run free, where innocent people suffer as I once did. What I'm creating here. it's the key to true peace."

As Garp left, the weight of the foreboding sense in his stomach, Borsalino turned back to the hologram. His handsome features were illuminated by the blue glow, casting eerie shadows across his face.

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"Soon," he whispered. "Soon, the world shall know the might of the light."

The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the bloodstained deck of the pirate ship. Marine Captain Borsalino Boromante stood amidst the carnage, his normally lazy grin replaced with a look of cold satisfaction.

"Ooh, Saka-chan," he called out, his voice carrying across the silent vessel. "What's your count for today?"

Commodore Sakazuki came from below deck, his fists still smoking from the heat of magma-based attacks. "Seventeen," he growled, his eyes scanning the bodies strewn about. "You?"

Borsalino's smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Nineteen. Looks like I win again, ne?"

As they made their way back to their Marine vessel, the two officers continued with their macabre tally. It had become a ritual for them—counting lives snuffed out in the name of justice.

"You know," Borsalino drawled, leaning against the railing of the ship, "I'm starting to think we need to make this more interesting. I mean, what's a simple body count, anyway?"

Sakazuki raised an eyebrow, scowl deepening. "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know," Borsalino mused, his fingers tracing patterns of light in the air. "Perhaps we could start grading on style? Efficiency? The look of terror in their eyes as the light fades?"

For a moment, something like concern flickered across Sakazuki's face. "Borsalino. don't you think we're taking this too far?"

Word of their exploits was like wildfire throughout the New World. Pirates spoke in hushed whispers of the two Marine officers who brought nothing but destruction and fear.

"Did ya hear?" a grizzled pirate captain muttered to his first mate. "They say there's a Marine who can move at the speed of light. Leaves nothing but corpses in his wake."

"Aye," the first mate nodded, his voice quivering. "And this one's partner's worse yet. They say he can turn the sea itself to boiling lava."

Crammed around a table in a crummy tavern on some lawless island, a group of bounty hunters whispered among themselves.

"They're calling them Kizaru and Akainu now," one breathed, his eyes darting nervously to the door. "The Yellow Monkey and the Red Dog. Monsters, the both of them."

Back on Marineford, Borsalino stood before Fleet Admiral Sengoku, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he drawled.

Sengoku's face was grave. "Borsalino… or should I say, Kizaru? Reports of your actions have been… concerning."

"Ooh?" Borsalino's eyebrow arched. "And here I thought you'd be pleased with our results. The pirate population is down by what, 30% in the areas we've patrolled?"

"At what cost?" Sengoku demanded. "The fear you're spreading. it's not just affecting pirates. Innocent civilians are terrified of the Marines now."

But the smile didn't leave Borsalino's face, though something cold and hard seemed to glitter in his eyes. "Isn't that the point, sir? Fear keeps people in line. Fear brings order."

Leaving Sengoku's office, Borsalino caught a glimpse of himself in one of the polished wall panels. The lazy, laid-back officer that was his habit & genetic condition to project to the world faded for an instant to reveal something else altogether. A creature shining with pure light and terror, its yellow eyes burning with an intensity wholly inhuman.

"Kizaru," he whispered, the name tongue-testing. "I rather like the sound of that."

As the sun on another day crested the horizon in the headquarters of the Marines, for Borsalino Boromante, now to the world Admiral Kizaru, it was anything but the end of the hunt. The game would go on, and the body count would rise. After all, what could one more demon be in a world of pirates and monsters?

Brine and gunpowder's acrid stench clung heavily to the night air as Admiral Borsalino Boromante, known to his fellow men as Kizaru, leaned against the railing of the Marine vessel. His eyes, against the façade of laziness of his half-lidded eyes, were sharp and focused on the horizon.

Next to him was another Admiral, pacing like a caged beast: Sakazuki, also known as Akainu.

"We should strike now," growled Sakazuki, his fists clenching and unclenching as wisps of steam rose from his skin. "The Rocks Pirates are right there, within our grasp. Why are we holding back?"

Borsalino's lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ooh, Saka-chan," he drawled his voice a contrast to the tension in the air. "Always so eager for the kill. But sometimes, the greatest justice comes from patience."

Sakazuki whirled on him, blazing eyes barely containing the fury within them. "Patience? While those pirates pillage and murder? What kind of justice is that, Borsalino?"

The darkness, the ancient evil, flickered there like a flare for a moment in Kizaru's gaze. He straightened, all pretense of laziness gone. "The kind of justice that shapes worlds, Sakazuki. The kind that has events set in motion echoing through the generations."

He spread his hand out toward the far-off island where the Rocks Pirates were said to assemble. "Those pirates. they're a whole lot more important than you suspect. To our concept of Absolute Justice."

Sanazuki scowled deeper. "What are you talking about? How can leaving them be considered justice at all?"

Borsalino leaned uncomfortably close, lowering his voice to a little more than a whisper that sounded as though it were riding on the wind itself. "What if I told you, Saka-chan, that those pirates are the key to something greater? That their actions now will set in motion a future that'll rock our world down to its very pillars?"

He stopped for a bit, letting the words sink in. " The Rocks Pirates aren't another crew. They're the spark that will set everything into motion. And we... well, we're the ones who will guarantee that the spark doesn't go out before it has a chance to blaze through the world."

Sakazuki's eyes widened as confusion mixed with dawning realization crossed his face. "You're talking about... manipulating events? Playing with people's lives as if they were pieces on a chessboard?"

Borsalino smiled, sharp as a knife. "Ooh, now you're getting it. The point of justice isn't just to correct the guilty. It's about making the world the way it ought to be."

The night wore on, Borsalino and Sakazuki standing in silence as they gazed across at flickering dots of light in the Rocks Pirates encampment. Sakazuki broke the stillness, his voice in a tone he rarely used.

"How do you know all this, Borsalino? What aren't you telling me?"

Borsalino turned his gaze to his companion, best friend, blazing with light that was more than earthly. "Saka-chan, there are things in this world beyond our acquaintance. Forces at work which have shaped events since long before we were born. I have seen things. Glimpses through the veil."

He placed a hand on Sakazuki's shoulder, and the touch was surprisingly gentle. "Trust me when I say letting the Rocks Pirates play their part now will bring a time of justice—a time where pirates are hit with a judgment that they can't even imagine."

Finally, the day broke—the first sunshine of the morning stretching across the sea—to the front of which Borsalino and Sakazuki were still standing as their ship set off. In the fading distance was the silent island on which the Rocks Pirates were gathered, a testament to the choices made in the night.

"Remember this day, Saka-chan," Kizaru said, his voice weighty for a man who was otherwise so carefree. "Years from now, when the world's in an uproar and it seems like the bad guys are winning, remember that we saw it coming. And we did nothing at all to stop it, because sometimes… justice will sometimes need evils which are 'had' to complete its path."

Sakazuki nodded, finally understanding. As the days sailed by, leaving the Rocks Pirates to their appointed place in history, neither man would ever be able to shake the feeling that they had managed to set the ball rolling on the events that would reset the world of One Piece for generations into the future.

Years later, Admirals Kizaru and Akainu would each often looked back on that night.

The tailor's shop was an island of peace amidst the busy streets of Marineford. In front of a tri-fold mirror, Admiral Borsalino Boromante—the one known to the world as Kizaru—waited patiently while the old tailor fussed with the hem of his new suit. Next to him stood Admiral Sakazuki, Akainu to all his acquaintances, which, to him, meant both friends and foes—a man scowling at his reflection.

"Ooh, Saka-chan," Borsalino drawled, a lazy smile playing across his youthful face. "Why so serious? This is supposed to be fun, ne?"

Sakazuki's scowl deepened if such a thing were possible. That was— "Fun? We're Admirals, Borsalino. Everything we do should reflect the gravity of our position."

Borsalino coughed and ran a hand down the lapel of his new three-piece suit, a vibrant yellow that seemed to catch and hold the light. "And who says we can't look good while doing it?" He adjusted the matching yellow tie around his neck, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Besides, I think this color suits me. Don't you agree, Saka-chan?"

The tailor, withered and knotted with age at his fingers from decades of stitching, stepped back to admire his handiwork. "It's certainly unique, Admiral Kizaru. Not many would be bold enough to wear such a vibrant color."

"That's me," Borsalino chuckled. "Bold to a fault."

As the tailor moved to make final adjustments on Sakazuki's red suit just like his original counterpart, Kizaru's mind wandered. He thought of how quickly they rose through ranks, how easily they claimed the title of Admiral. It had been almost too easy, hadn't it?

"Saka-chan," he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Have you ever wondered why they made us Admirals so young?"

His eyes met Sakazuki's in the mirror. "Well, of course we are. No one else has our zeal for Absolute Justice."

Kizaru's grin twisted to something sarcastic instead. "Is it? Or is it because we're malleable? Young enough to be shaped into what they need?"

The tailor felt the atmosphere change and ebbed backward, excusing himself to get more pins. In the ensuing quiet, Kizaru's words hung heavy in the air.

"What are you saying, Borsalino?" Sakazuki turned toward his fellow Admiral.

Kizaru's eyes, always half-lidded in a pose of affected boredom, were now razor-sharp. "I'm saying, Saka-chan, that maybe the rank of Admiral isn't what we thought it was. It's not about skill, not really. It's about power. Personal power."

He gestured at their reflections, two young men dressed in the trappings of authority. "Look at us. Barely out of our teens, and we're supposed to be the most powerful men in the Marines. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

Sakazuki's brow furrowed. "We earned our positions through hard work and dedication."

"Did we?" Kizaru responded, "Or were we chosen because we're young enough to be formed into shape? Into the perfect tools for another person's agenda?" The silence was deafening. Kizaru returned to the mirror, adjusting his tie with his fingers shaking ever so slightly.

"Most Marines," he went on, his voice low, "they pace themselves. They climb the ranks slow, learning, growing. By the time they reach Admiral, they're old men, set in their ways. But us? We've been fast-tracked. Trained specifically to do this."

Sakazuki's face was a mask of confusion and dawning realization. "But why?"

Kizaru's smile was the most bitter thing, far from his lazy grin. "Because, Saka-chan, we're easier to control this way. Young, impressionable, full of fire and ideals about justice. The perfect pawns in someone else's game."

As the tailor returned, pins in hand, the two Admirals fell silent. Though the weight of Kizaru's words hung between them, a truth too heavy to ignore.

Kizaru adjusted his yellow jacket one last time and finally met his eyes in the mirror. There stood a man who now knew that, if he ever were to attain justice, it would come at a terrible price. The reflection didn't show a man lost in his youth and carefree when entering the Marines with dreams of justice.

"Well, Saka-chan," he said, his voice now light, careless, though his eyes remained sharp. "Shall we go show the world what the youngest Admirals in Marine history look like?"

Coming out of the tailor's shop in new suits, there was something that Kizaru just couldn't shake off—that they had crossed a threshold. The game altered; the stakes were now higher than ever. But then, as he studied his yellow tie with a smirk, maybe he always liked upping the challenge.