ONE PIECE: GHIDORAH

A jagged plank, half-burned and covered in ash, barely floated above the water's surface, creaking under the weight of two figures sprawled atop it. Vice Admirals Rokuro and Yasha lay there, their bodies bruised, burned, and bleeding. Their uniforms were in tatters, barely hanging on as they clung to the remnants of their ship—a ship that no longer existed, reduced to scraps and splinters by a power they could barely comprehend.

The once-proud Navy men were unrecognizable, battered and barely conscious as they floated aimlessly on the open sea. Days had passed since their encounter with that creature. The days blurred together as they drifted without direction, their minds haunted by the last moments of their ship and the unfathomable terror that left them stranded.

Rokuro groaned, clutching his broken ribs, feeling the salty spray of the sea sting his exposed wounds. "Yasha…" he rasped, his voice hoarse and weak. "You… you still there?"

Yasha, lying beside him, gave a feeble nod, his arm limp and useless, dangling from a shoulder dislocated in the chaos. "Barely," he muttered. "But yeah. Still here."

They had lost all sense of time, surviving only on sheer willpower, their bodies pushed to their absolute limits. Sea Kings had attacked them more times than they could count, their monstrous jaws and razor-sharp teeth a constant threat. They fended off each beast with whatever scraps of strength they could muster, enduring attacks that should have killed lesser men. Their bodies bore the marks of these encounters bites, slashes, bruises, burns.

"Can't believe… we're the only ones left," Rokuro said, his voice a mix of bitterness and exhaustion. "After everything… only us…"

Yasha managed a faint smirk, though it was laced with pain. "Guess we're tougher than we thought."

Hours turned into days, and finally, after what felt like an eternity of drifting, an island appeared on the horizon. A small Marine base sat nestled on the shore, a faint beacon of hope in an otherwise endless sea. Gritting their teeth, they paddled as best they could, their limbs heavy as lead. Every inch they moved felt like a mile, but they were driven by a determination to survive, to report back to Marineford.

When they finally washed up on the shore, barely conscious, the Marines stationed at the base scrambled to help, pulling their battered forms from the wreckage and rushing them into the infirmary. For the first time since their encounter, Rokuro and Yasha were safe.

---

It took nearly a full day of treatment before either of them could speak coherently, but as soon as Rokuro could sit up, he demanded to be put in contact with Marineford. They were weak, but their determination overpowered their fatigue. Using the denden mushi, they contact the marineford.

Sengoku's expression darkened as he took in the sight of the injured vice admirals. "Report," he said, his voice laced with concern. "What happened out there?"

Rokuro took a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he recalled the horrors of the battle. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku… it was… it was a monster," he stammered. "A beast unlike anything we've ever seen."

Yasha, still visibly shaken, nodded in agreement. "We were chasing a slave that got away from the disaster that happened from the holy land. We thought that we will catch them pretty easy but.."

Sengoku's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he listened. "Describe it. Every detail you can remember."

The two marine exchanged glances before Rokuro continued, his voice shaking. "It had dark, scaly skin… and when it transformed, it became a three-headed dragon. Each head was a weapon in itself one unleashed beams of blinding energy, another roared with a sound that shattered everything around it, and the third… its mere presence was like a force of gravity, crushing everything it faced."

Tsuru leaned forward, her keen eyes studying the two men. "And the person? Did you see them before they transformed?"

Yasha nodded slowly, his gaze distant. "He was… humanoid at first, but there was something strange about him. His skin was brown, almost like it was burned, and he had white hair. And on his back… flames. Not like anything I've seen. It was as if they were part of him."

Sengoku's eyes widened slightly. "Flames on his back… could it be…?"

Tsuru turned to Sengoku, her gaze serious. "Lunarian traits, perhaps. But we need more than speculation."

Rokuro's fists clenched, his face twisted with frustration. "At first we landed a few hits from him but after transforming we were destroyed. He tore through our ship like it was paper. We're lucky we survived… but everyone else… they were slaughtered."

Yasha shivered, her face haunted. "We were the only ones left… he didn't just destroy our ship, he annihilated it"

The two vice admirals fell silent, their faces pale as they relived the memories of that encounter. Sengoku looked down, his expression grim, while Tsuru maintained her usual calm, though a glint of concern flickered in her eyes.

"Did you learn anything else? A name, an affiliation?" Sengoku asked, his tone sharp.

Rokuro shook his head. "We didn't hear a name… we don't know who he is or what he wants. But… there was something about him… something that felt… ancient."

Sengoku turned to Tsuru, his face a mask of concern. "If he's connected to the Lunarians, we're dealing with a threat. But we don't have enough to go on. No name, no image, no bounty."

Tsuru's gaze was steady. "Without a proper identification, issuing a bounty is difficult. However, we have some clues. We can begin by spreading word among our contacts. Anyone with Lunarian characteristics will stand out."

A loud snore interrupted the serious atmosphere, and Sengoku sighed, glancing back at Garp, who was slumped in his chair, blissfully asleep.

"Garp!" Sengoku barked, startling the legendary marine out of his nap. Garp blinked, rubbing his eyes as he looked around.

"Huh? What's all the fuss about?" Garp mumbled, scratching his head.

"Garp," Sengoku said, exasperation in his tone, "we have a potential Lunarian threat. A creature of immense power has decimated one of our ships and nearly killed two vice admirals."

Garp's eyes lit up with a hint of interest, though his usual casual demeanor remained. "A Lunarian, huh? Haven't seen one of those in ages… Sounds like fun BWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Fun?" Tsuru shot him a withering look. "This isn't a joke, Garp. If this individual truly possesses Lunarian abilities, we could be facing a threat on par with some of the most dangerous pirates in history."

Garp grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Well, it's about time we had someone interesting to go after. I was getting bored."

Sengoku pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "Garp, we're not just talking about any pirate. This is a potential disaster waiting to happen. We don't know his goals, his name, or even his exact appearance."

"We'll need to gather intel," Tsuru said calmly. "If he's as powerful as these two describe, he won't stay hidden for long. We'll track any reports of a dragon-like creature or Lunarian sightings. And once we find him…"

Sengoku nodded, his expression hardening. "Once we find him, we'll do whatever it takes to neutralize the threat."

Rokuro and Yasha sat quietly, their injuries a stark reminder of the battle they barely survived. They knew the Marines would stop at nothing to hunt down this monster, but deep down, a part of them questioned if anyone could truly contain such a force.

As the call ended, Sengoku leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. A Lunarian a creature of myth and ancient power, something that could shake the very foundations of the world. If this new threat was indeed of Lunarian descent, they would need every resource at their disposal to confront him.

The storm was coming. And the Marines were preparing for battle.