– Bellamy –
If there was one thing the uninitiated failed to grasp completely, it was just how different the world was when observed through, or better yet, in conjunction with observation haki. It was not something merely as simple as an extended range of vision or even a superhuman amount of detail being picked up by your five senses. Rather, the world was simply…more. A limited but similar analogy could be a dog, which didn't have the ability to see some parts of our color spectrum, miraculously unlocking access to the full set of shades and frequencies. Now, imagine this, but also for every sensory ability you had in addition to some previously unknown sixth sense. To me, it almost felt as if the world was whispering in my ear. It was garbled, it was fuzzy and it was nearly impossible to understand right now, but I could sense the world's heartbeat, hear her humming and feel the lightest of nudges on my skin.
To be honest, I wasn't sure if what I was experiencing was normal. For one, Izou's own experiences were quite different from my own. However, he did mention that no two people were exactly alike and while their applications of how they used their haki tended to be similar, the sensory feedback need not necessarily be. Then again, I didn't think it really mattered.
What mattered was that after a very, very long time I finally had haki.
Also arguably, I had unlocked the most useful form of haki or at least the one I had the most use for at the moment. Nobody was going to deny that having armament would be a huge boost to how much damage I could dish out, especially against a logia user. That being said, I was currently sailing around in Paradise where few if any devil fruit users were equipped to deal with seastone. Samples of which I'd been surreptitiously gathering over the span of my entire existence on this world, until I now had a rather decent collection of knickknacks. As for sheer destructive power, I could grow that via other means. Such as a greater mastery over my devil fruit for example. And this was where observation haki came in very useful.
If observation haki afforded me a much greater awareness of the world around me, what would happen if I turned that focus inwards?
Well, the answer was a lot of things, but suffice to say that my control over my springs had skyrocketed as a result. If before, I had been relying on my subconscious, automated neural functions to help me move many of the smaller springs which constituted my Coil Chassis, I could now consciously manipulate all of them at will. Turned out, it was a lot easier to control something if you were aware of where it was, what it was doing, and in which manner it was doing it. The difference in efficiency was like night and day to say the least.
Furthermore, that improved control enabled me to try out some rather interesting applications. I'd already mastered the art of transforming one big spring into two smaller springs, linked together in a series. So, here's the thought.
Who said that two springs linked together, needed to remain linked together?
I could transform a strand of hair into two linked springs, unlink one, extend the other before turning that one into two linked springs again. Voila, the result was one spring separated from my main body but one that was technically still a part of me. And that without any visible changes to my transformed body. I wasn't sure if this had been the case for the original Bellamy, but for me, my springs didn't necessarily have to correspond one-to-one to a part of my body. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have had any hair left after all my experiments. Whenever I undid my transformation (partial or otherwise), my hair remained exactly the same as it had been before.
Or maybe it did need to and I was essentially just turning a keratin molecule into a spring before increasing its size.
I didn't know how my fruit did things and I probably never really would. Unfortunately, matter to matter transmutation had not been part of the college curriculum. It just worked and I wasn't going to question it. Either way, it didn't change the fact that I could mass produce springs now.
Sadly, I hadn't figured out a way to use this in combat just yet. All I had managed so far, was to have these springs hop around for a bit before the headache forced me to dismiss them from existence. But progress was progress and I wasn't going to complain. It wasn't a poor man's logia, nothing like that, but there was potential there. It only needed a lot more work to become useful.
At least I had made enough progress on my spring gatling gun, so that I had at least one new move I could add to my arsenal. It was an idea I had first experimented with on St. Poplar, when I was having my fist make rapid piston movements between my stationary forearm and the drugged Rear Admiral's face. The issue back then had been that it had been too slow. I had only managed around ten punches per second, which in turn had forced me to shorten the range a lot to minimize the time interval between individual blows.
Thankfully, I had gotten a lot better at using my fruit since then. I was faster, I was stronger and I could seamlessly switch between extension and compression faster than I could blink. Hence, I now had a gatling gun worth the name, launching my fists at a whopping one hundred punches per second, similar to the firing rate of the historical gatling gun. While unlike Luffy's gomu gomu no gatling, my Spring Gatling Gun lacked the ability to hem my opponent in by covering a wider area with my fists, but I would wager anything that mine was faster and had much more stopping power, as all the damage was concentrated much more heavily in a smaller area.
It was one of the perks of not having to draw my entire arm back to throw a second punch.
In summary, things were going great on my front.
Now, if only I could say the same for the rest of my crew…
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– Hewitt –
The journey to Baltigo had been remarkably unremarkable, though perhaps that was just how it was meant to be. Hewitt wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it had been nothing like a story quest. Not least because the trip had been completely void of any traps or challenges one had to pass in order to obtain clues about the whereabouts of the most secret base in the world. Instead, it had been smooth sailing with the guidance of an eternal pose and for some reason, the Grand Line had decided to play nice and not throw its usual atmospheric tantrums their way. This also meant that the crew had plenty of time to pursue other matters, which most of them had used to get in some extra training much to Izou's delight.
Lily in particular had decided that she needed to master armament haki as fast as humanly possible and was sparring non-stop with anybody she could get her hands on. According to Izou, she'd been making amazing progress too. Coincidentally, Nero's mastery of tekkai had greatly improved in the last few days as well. Everybody else had been putting in a lot of work, honing their respective specialties or in Ross' case, somehow managing to work on everything at once.
Everybody except Hewitt. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't recovered yet from the wounds inflicted upon him by Kalifa and thus, he had been confined by Muret to an infirmary bed under Funkfreed's watchful watch. As everybody knew, there wasn't much to do when one was lying in bed all day. Well, except be bored and stew in one's own thoughts.
And with the way the holes in his chest painfully flared up every time he moved, was it any wonder that his thoughts wandered back to his loss against the government agent?
Hewitt had reviewed the fight frame by frame in his head, several times in fact, trying to find anything he could have, should have done differently. Maybe a stab here, a feint there, perhaps a slightly differently angled parry…what if he'd moved a split second faster or delayed his timing by a smidgeon?
In the end, he'd come out empty handed.
With the knowledge he'd had at the time in the situation he'd been in, there had been nothing he would have done differently even if he could have. To put it another way, Hewitt had put on the best performance he had been capable of back then…and it simply hadn't been good enough. And that realization burned.
In hindsight, he should have noticed, subconsciously at least, that the others had been slowly pulling ahead of him, even if he'd tried his hardest to ignore it. Bellamy & Lily had been stronger than him from the beginning, so Hewitt had thought nothing of it when they trounced him in a spar. Same with Sarquiss, though they didn't train together that often, with the first mate more focused on gaining greater control over his devil fruit. So far, Sarquiss had managed to figure out how to retract his insectoid abdomen, though his eyes and wings had as of yet remained unchangeable.
Laki and Nero hadn't been around for nearly as long but in both cases, they'd quickly established themselves as instructors of their relative disciplines. Even for Hewitt it had been quite easy to accept that they were better than him (at least in those aspects), because if they weren't they wouldn't have been able to teach him.
Aisa was Aisa, 'nuff said.
But then Hewitt had started losing more and more spars to Ross recently (he'd told himself that he was only somewhat under the weather) and it had taken longer and longer to beat Rivers, even when the sniper wasn't double-teaming him with Fuza. Even Mani had been turning increasingly tenacious ever since she'd unlocked her haki at Marineford. The only one who Hewitt didn't have trouble defeating had been Muret, but even she had made great strides in medicine and toxicology, the most dangerous of which she refused to use against the Crew. When one considered the fact that Muret had been doing her damned best to ensure everyone had at least some immunity to her concoctions, Muret was effectively fighting him with one arm tied behind her back.
Now, he'd been pushed to a point where he couldn't ignore it any longer. While he may still be stronger than a third of the crew, at this rate how much longer would this be the case? And even if things didn't change from how they were now, was that in any shape or form acceptable? He'd been the number four on his crew (no matter what Ross or Eddy had claimed), but now he was a distant eighth.
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Seriously, why had Ross gotten haki and not him? He'd trained as much as Ross had, he'd wanted it as much if nor more…not to brag, but Hewitt was certain he deserved it more. After all, had Hewitt not chosen to not take that devil fruit, so that they could keep their little competition fair? Didn't such generosity deserve a reward?
And speaking of devil fruits, Marie's fruit could have been his! Counting Aisa, this was the second time a powerful fruit had slipped through his fingers (by his own inaction but that was beside the point). In Aisa's case, at least she'd been a child and she'd been really useful after joining the crew, so far saving the lives of both Sarquiss and Hewitt. Plus, even Hewitt couldn't deny that the kid had some great synergy with the goro goro no mi. But Marie was just a random girl Laki had taken pity on and decided to bring along. Seriously, what had the captain been thinking? Even if nobody on the crew had wanted it then, there hadn't been any need to give it away. They could have kept it in the hold until a need arose…
sigh~
Hewitt wasn't blind enough to not realize that his mind was spewing out irrational crap. Nobody had stopped him from taking the fruit. In fact, the captain had nearly begged for someone on the crew to eat it. Hewitt had simply chosen not to for what turned out to be an asinine reason in hindsight. Thus, the captain deciding to invest in their affiliate crew was an understandable and even smart decision.
That he hadn't unlocked haki yet didn't mean he wasn't going to and it was only a small pothole that a bit of extra training wouldn't fix. In fact, when compared to just about every other pirate, Hewitt was supremely fortunate to have someone of Izou's caliber giving him semi-personal training. He wasn't sure whether or not even the Whitebeard Pirates in the crossdresser's division had enjoyed the same privilege.
When one tacked on the lessons he'd gotten from Sanji, the ludicrous amount of gold still sitting at the bottom of his chest and all the other little benefits he'd gained which his childhood self hadn't even been able to dream about, Hewitt knew perfectly well that he didn't have a rational reason to be envious of anyone. People should be envious of him.
Pity that envy was rarely rational.
But apart from desperately pasting a smile on his face and clamping down on the emotions angrily bubbling inside of him, Hewitt didn't know what to do.
He really didn't know what to do.
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– Nero –
The night breeze was wonderfully cool, carrying the smell of the sea across the moonlit waves. The deck was empty, the crew having mostly gone to sleep with the notable exception of Mani, who was on duty at the helm. And of course, Nero himself sitting in the crow's nest. It was quiet up here, perfect for someone who wanted to become lost in his own thoughts.
To be honest, things didn't feel quite real to Nero right now. They hadn't since he'd been victorious against Jabra. That was not to say that the world seemed different or that he was having an out of body experience. The bruises he'd gotten from his spars with Lily could attest that he hadn't left reality behind, but despite that, Nero was having a bit of trouble believing that he'd actually won.
Jabra had been this insurmountable barrier not even a year ago and he'd gotten so much stronger since then. When they had fought on Tequila Wolf, Jabra's doriki would still have been far greater than Nero's own. By all rights, he should have torn Nero to shreds and yet…and yet, Nero could still feel Jabra's larynx grasped in his hand, still see the wolf-man's terror shining in his wide open eyes as Nero…well, as Nero paid him back for all the humiliation and suffering he had endured at Jabra's hands.
Nero had won.
Others would have been floating on cloud nine afterwards, but all Nero could think of, as he looked down at his former tormentor's cooling corpse, had been the question of why. Why had he won?
Yes, he'd exploited Jabra's enhanced senses and yes, Nero had gotten stronger. However, it hadn't been as if Nero hadn't run himself ragged before Lucci stabbed him in the back. If anything, Nero had been forced to train harder back then. But after years of such inhumane training, all Nero had to show for himself had been a paltry doriki of one hundred and twenty, which while superhuman, had been laughably low when compared to Jabra's own.
When one assumed that Jabra's claim of having matched Lucci's strength were true, that would mean that Nero had increased his own doriki at least into the low three thousands to have stood any chance against Jabra's four thousand. And this simply didn't make any sense.
It had taken Nero over a decade to reach the level he'd been at prior to his termination. How did one get a near twenty times increase in strength within the span of only a few months? How?
Again, he hadn't trained harder than he'd done back then. He hadn't been as desperate as he'd been back then. In fact, he'd had less time for himself when one considered that he needed to spend a lot of his own time teaching his crew everything he knew. He'd certainly enjoyed doing it and the sense of purpose and accomplishment he'd gotten from seeing his pupils' progress had been wonderful. But it had certainly eaten away at his own training efficiency. Or it should have. His old self would have lambasted his current self for playing around and pursuing an impossible dream instead of…
…dreams?
When was the last time Nero had been able to afford a dream, at least one other than survival, prior to joining the Bellamy Pirates? Most definitely not during his preliminary training. Graduation? His brief stint at cipher pol? The cave where he'd met his first friend? The answer was never. It had always been about survival and clawing his way to the top. While it hadn't been as if he'd never had any happy times in those days, he'd also never been as satisfied and relaxed as he was now.
Was that why? Was the key to strength to be happy in life and pursue a dream?
Surely, it wasn't that simple. That was too ridiculous to be true. Then again, this was the Grand Line. Logic tended to not work around here, so by being too ridiculous to be true, it increased the chances that it actually was.
Nero shook his head to clear it, sweeping the notion briefly aside. However, the idea was tenacious, rearing its head again and again over the course of the night as Nero deliberated on this new potential insight. In the end, he didn't find a definitive answer until the sun peeked over the horizon, though he did have a conclusion he could draw. The answer probably wasn't as simple as purely having a dream to chase after, of that Nero was certain. However, in pursuing a new lifestyle, he'd been doing something right and for now, that was enough for him.
Satisfied, Nero changed shifts with Rivers before heading off to his room for a nap, snuggling into his warm blankets. And as his body prepared for slumber, his mind wandered off again, going on a journey through all his happy memories, starting from the most recent until it reached the point in time when he'd made his first friend. It was his happiest memory to date. Would he ever get to see his friend again? Nero didn't know, but he would dearly like to.
Would his friend greet him with the same smile? What would Nero say?
What would she say?
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"You look like you've seen a ghost."
To be honest, Nero couldn't be certain that he wasn't seeing one right now. As such, there was nothing he could do to stop his jaw from dropping to the ground like an anvil.
CLONK
"You also should pick your jaw up from the ground, it really isn't that clean. Anyway, it's so nice seeing you again, it's been what…twelve years?" The vision before him asked in a jovial tone Nero remembered all too well, whereas his own brain short circuited, trying to bring forth a garbled mess.
"How…wha…uuuh? What? What?"
"Nero, aren't you going to say hello to your Big Sis?" His vision demanded in that all too familiar manner, to which Nero only had one possible response.
"KOALA?!?!?"
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Sengoku Retires!
Welcome to Marineford Daily News, your only source of accurate and unbiased truth.
The Marine HQ has recently announced that Fleet Admiral Sengoku will be stepping down after a long and illustrious career. His tenure included what was perhaps the most tumultuous era since the Void Century, including the rise and fall of notorious criminals such as Gold Roger or Shiki the Golden Lion. Now, after safeguarding the world for nigh three decades, his retirement leaves the marines with very big shoes to fill.
In response, the search for his successor has been going on quietly behind the scenes, as multiple candidates were recommended and screened for the post. Names, which have been circulating include Sengoku's old friend and comrade, the living legend Garp the Fist. He is a man who needs no introduction and would have been a potential appointment wh would have brought decades of experience and unrivalled strength, yet humble as ever, the Hero of the Marines has declined the post, choosing instead to be on the frontlines of the war against the ever-present forces of chaos.
But apart from the legendary Vice Admiral, those touted to be the closest to the position of Fleet Admiral are the members of the admiralty themselves, amongst which Admirals Akainu and Aokiji have officially thrown their hats into the ring.
If one considers that this appointment will decide the marine policy for the next decades, it is not a decision that can be made lightly. While the process itself is veiled in secrecy, the position requires the appointee to bring all marines together into one unifying force. Hence, one can imagine that it's a very democratic process including many debates and negotiations to pick the most charismatic and diplomatic candidate available.
Credence is given to this theory as neither of the Admirals Akainu and Aokiji haven't been sighted for the last week after the marine speaker has revealed that they were very close to reaching a conclusion. It seems that both candidates have decided to amicably hash out the final details in a private discussion on a quiet retreat, like the good friends and comrades they are.
We look forward to the result.
Now on to the weather report.
All is well and fair on the Grand Line with the usual unpredictable storms and weather phenomena. However, observers have noted that the Island of Punk Hazard seems to be experiencing some weather anomalies beyond the usual, a storm of ice and lava tragically reducing the former lush island into a wasteland. No doubt, pirates are responsible somehow.
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This was Marineford Daily reporting.