Onepiece: I'm Gojo Satoru [R-18]

The once-bustling beach was now eerily quiet. All that remained were Satoru and the pirate captain. The other pirates had either been sent plunging into the sea or lay crumpled on the beach, lifeless. Twisted necks and limbs marked the brutality of the confrontation, painting a grim scene of Satoru's handiwork.

"You… you're a monster!" the pirate captain stammered, gripping his oversized machete as if it could ward off the terror standing before him. His eyes widened in sheer panic, fixating on the boy drenched in specks of blood—none of which were his own.

"Monster, huh?" Satoru smirked, the blood on his face enhancing his aura of menace. "You're not the first to call me that. But it doesn't matter. Monsters like me? We don't mind the name."

Satoru had long since grown used to the title. Much like Gojo Satoru, the name had followed him since his youth. It was a constant reminder that he stood leagues above ordinary men, born with an advantage that made him untouchable.

The captain's machete trembled in his hands. "L-let me go! You can have all the treasure on my ship—it's yours! Just… spare me!" His voice cracked, the bravado he once carried now reduced to pitiful begging.

Satoru tilted his head, as if considering the offer. "Treasure, huh? You're right—I almost forgot. Pirates are supposed to be rich."

"Yes, exactly! Everything I have is yours! Gold, jewels, anything! Just let me live!" the captain babbled, his words spilling over themselves in desperation.

A sly grin spread across Satoru's face. "But you see, if I kill you, your treasure becomes mine anyway. So why bother sparing you?"

The pirate captain's expression froze. His lips trembled as he stammered, "N-no, wait! Please—"

Before he could finish, Satoru raised his hand. A chilling force gripped the pirate's neck, twisting it with an unnatural crunch. The captain's lifeless body slumped to the ground, his eyes still wide with terror.

"That's that," Satoru muttered, brushing off his hands.

Suddenly, a cacophony of hurried footsteps broke the silence. Satoru turned toward the jungle, spotting a large group of villagers rushing toward the beach. Makeshift weapons—harpoons, shovels, and farming tools—were clutched in their hands. At the front was the village chief, a weathered man whose concern was etched into every line of his face.

"Quick, everyone! Satoru's still out there! We can't let him face those pirates alone!" the chief yelled, his voice laced with urgency.

The villagers burst onto the scene, only to freeze in their tracks. The sight before them—a lone boy standing amid a sea of corpses—stole the breath from their lungs.

"Satoru… did you… do all this by yourself?" the chief asked, his voice quivering. The vigor with which he had run moments earlier seemed to vanish, replaced by a stunned disbelief.

Satoru nodded, his expression calm. "Sorry if I scared you."

The villagers exchanged nervous glances. The blood-stained boy before them, who had once been their playful child, now appeared otherworldly—terrifying yet awe-inspiring. Some swallowed hard, unable to look away from the carnage surrounding him.

Breaking the silence, the chief approached Satoru and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, boy. You're safe, and that's all that matters."

The villagers, though shaken, gradually nodded in agreement. They had watched Satoru grow up, changed his clothes, fed him, and held him in their arms when he was small. No matter how frightening this scene was, they knew Satoru was still one of them.

"Are you hurt?" the chief asked, his eyes scanning Satoru for injuries.

"Nope," Satoru replied, shaking his head.

The chief gave a weary smile, patting the boy's shoulder. "Good. You've done more than enough. We owe you a debt we can't repay."

"Yeah, that's right!" a villager chimed in. "Satoru saved us all. He's a hero!"

Despite the grim battlefield, a sense of gratitude filled the air. They all understood what could have happened had Satoru not stood his ground.

"Alright, everyone," the chief said, his voice firm. "The pirates are gone, thanks to Satoru. Let's clean up this mess and move on. And don't forget—we owe him our lives."

The villagers dispersed, some gathering the scattered remnants of the pirate crew while others stayed close to Satoru, offering words of thanks.

Though he rarely expressed his emotions, Satoru felt a warmth in his chest as he watched them. These people were his family, and today he had protected them—just as he always would.