OP: Turtle Hermit

~Marine Base- 80th Branch~

The sea no longer howled. No longer burned. No longer screamed.

A week had passed since the event now etched into every newspaper across the world — Ashes over west Blue.

A title born in ink but written first in blood, from Civilans, mafioso, marines and even pirates.

Amber cone Island, leveled. The five great mafia fleets turned against one another in a cyclone of betrayal.

Entire islands choked on smoke. Kingdoms rattled. Civilians fled due to overly ambitious pirates attacking unguarded cities due to lack of marine personal's.

And still, the embers glowed in the corners of the map where marines couldn't reach.

Within a Marine base nestled atop a cliff in the Soja region, Nehishi sat hunched at his desk.

His normally crisp uniform hung loosely on his tall frame, his sleeves rolled up, a half-drunk cup of tea forgotten by his elbow. His eyes were puffy, ringed with fatigue as he stared at reports stacked like gravestones.

SOS requests screamed at him from Ilisis Kingdom. From Bollywood. From every isle west of Reverse Mountain.

"Goddamn it all," Nehishi muttered, rubbing his forehead, groaning through his teeth as he looked out his office window.

The ocean lay deceptively calm now. The same sea that just days ago roared with cannon fire and screams.

From the couch near the corner, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Ara… Did you know I once froze an entire ocean just to take a nap on it?"

Nehishi didn't even look up, even as his face scrunched up in annoyance.

"Kuzan. Why are you still here?"

Admiral Kuzan/Aokiji now lounging on his couch with a black sleeping mask half-off his face, yawned lazily.

"If someone would accept their promotion, I wouldn't still be wasting my vacation in West Blue."

"You can go to hell with that excuse." Nehishi growled, smacking his desk.

"You know I'm right," Kuzan replied, sitting up. "The five families are gutted. Two of the dons are captured. Capone's gone underground. You're wasting your skill, your potential. West Blue can be managed by your lieutenants now."

Nehishi slammed a report onto the desk, making the tea cup rattle. "Capone didn't just vanish. He moved in silence. The damn man dodged the war like a snake, and now I've got whispers that pirates are rallying behind his name. Meanwhile, Bianchi's licking his wounds, and Uzuhana's young are setting fire to every port we've managed to secure."

"And yet," Kuzan said, glancing sideways. "You're not afraid of them."

"No," Nehishi admitted with a sigh. "But I'm afraid of what'll rise from their ashes."

Kuzan's mask came off fully as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"What about Icura Sylvester? The white nova."

Nehishi frowned. "I was hoping you'd say he wasn't a threat."

Kuzan didn't answer at first. His gaze drifted to his arm — still wrapped in a light gauze. He flexed his fingers.

"I didn't sense Haki. No Logia qualities. But… his flames burned hotter than they should've. Explosions that bent sound. Not just fire. Something deeper. Controlled chaos. Artistry."

Kuzan exhaled, serious now.

"If he develops Haki… or if someone gives him a proper crew…"

"…he becomes a calamity," Nehishi finished for him.

They both sat in silence for a long moment. Then Kuzan, voice quieter now, asked:

"So. What are you really waiting for, old man? There's no reason to be in west blue anymore."

Nehishi's eyes wandered out the window again deep in thought.

"To see if the kid wants to join me."

~KAZUKI'S CAPSULE HOUSE~

The once-quiet dojo-style home was now a festival of children's laughter, stuffed animals, and martial arts mats.

Kazuki sat cross-legged on the floor, his arms folded, his expression a mix of irritation and fondness as dozens of orphaned kids from Baby Turtle Orphanage turned his living room that he was converting into a training hall. Into a park as they ran around.

"Didn't I say I'm fine?" he grumbled. "You didn't have to all come, every day…"

Jess, Beany, and Udon were seated beside him, peeling fruit for the children.

"Stop complaining," Beany said, rolling her eyes. "Jess caught you pushing a boulder up a hill yesterday." She said glaring at him.

Kazuki's head snapped toward Jess, who only giggled behind a hand.

"Traitor," he muttered, clutching his chest dramatically.

"Hey," Jess said softly, "We might not be able to fight alongside you… but healing? Cooking? Cleaning? You've carried us long enough, Kazuki. It's our turn now."

Kazuki looked down, heart stirred by her words.

Just then, a small voice squeaked behind him.

"Kazuki-nii!"

It was MeeMee, her tiny arms latching onto his back as he spun her into a hug, causing her to giggle in delight.

"Hey, little sis," Kazuki said, ruffling her blue hair. "How's my future champion?"

"I keep getting picked as it in hide-and-seek." she pouted.

"That just means you're too kind," he grinned causing her to grin back and hug him tighter.

Across the room, Udon looking nervous suddenly stepped forward and bowed down low, his voice determined. "Kazuki-nii. Please—train me. Let me follow your path to get stronger!"

Kazuki's eyes softened hearing the determination in his voice but, he shook his head.

"I'm not a master, yet." he said. "I'm still a student, Udon. You're just eight. You don't need to walk the road I'm walking. It's hard. Lonely."

Udon looked crushed, as he looked down struggling to fight the tears building in his eyes.

"But…" Kazuki added, his voice firm, eyes warm, "that doesn't mean I won't leave something behind."

He stood up and clapped once.

"All right, everyone. Gather up. From now on, this house will also be your dojo. I'm leaving you with beginner routines—strength, flexibility, meditation. You'll train in moderation until I return. That's my gift to the Baby Turtle."

There were cheers. Applause from the children But also…

Uncomfortable silence from the elder three kids and MeeMee.

Kazuki rubbed the back of his neck, voice lowering.

"I leave after tomorrow."

The room fell quiet. MeeMee's hold on him tightened. Jess lowered her head. Beany turned away, blinking her watery eyes hard.

They had known he would leave. But knowing didn't stop the pain. After all, before meeting him they were living in ruins and barely eating but now…

"I'll write every month," he promised. "And when you turn ten or twelve, I'll come back. So don't stop growing until then, all right?"

Udon stood straight, saluting. "I'll be the strongest kid in the West Blue by the time you return!"

Kazuki smiled.

"I'd expect nothing less."

~SOMEWHERE ON THE SEA — NIGHT~

A ship sliced through the West Blue like a blade.

It wasn't a mafia vessel. Not anymore.

On deck stood Luciano, wearing a sharp grey suit, white tie fluttering in the night wind, hair red like a drop of wine in a glass of milk.

Beside him stood Giovencie of Yoroki, Paul and Yurkiko of Uzuhana, Izzie and Ozzy from Moriyata, and Kagami and Yuzu of Bianchi.

Eight survivors. Betrayers of blood. Each had once been the future of their family.

The mafia Dons would have never guessed, that the younger generation had been the ones pulling the strings behind the scenes, egging the war for months, till it finally burst.

Now, they were something new, something more.

"Capone sends his regards," said one of the two goons standing nervously in front of them. "He's grateful for the help of gaining control over West Blue."

Luciano chuckled, eyes cold. "Let him know the deal stands," he said.

"But if he breaks it…" Giovencie cracked her knuckles. "We'll erase him."

The goons nodded, terrified.

Luciano chuckled as he looked at them with curiosity. "I hear he is thinking about going out to sea in a couple years to become a pirate. Just let him know to keep our other agreement as well."

"You can go."

As they scampered off the ship, Luciano turned to his crew.

His voice lifted like a flame.

"It's like I told you… Those old men lacked ambition."

He stepped onto the railing, arms open wide to the stars.

"We aren't chained to bloodlines. We're not corner dogs anymore."

"We're pirates now."

He raised his fist..

"To the Grand Line."

"We will make a New Era."

They all raised their weapons, their fists, and their hearts.

~KAZUKI'S CAPSULE HOUSE — MIDNIGHT~

Kazuki raised his eyebrow at his surprise visitor, he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Uhh want some tea?"

Nehishi shook his head and looked at Kazuki with narrowed eyes in contemplation.

After a awkward silence—

"Join the marines."

"Huh? No."

After another minute of awkward silence Nehishi looked at Kazuki blinking his eyes in surprise at the immediate answer.

Nehishi scratched his cheek looking at Kazuki. "Why? I seen you protect civilians, you have a great ambition, strength. The marines are perfect."

Kazuki shook his head with a light sincere smile.

"I'm just a martial artist."

"I'm not a soldier."

He turned and gestured at the training mats, the kids' drawings on the walls.

Nehishi stood still in the doorway. He looked at Kazuki for a long time.

Then…He smiled.

"…Then walk your path. But know this—if the world burns, it'll look for people like you. So don't stop improving."

Kazuki nodded once.

As Nehishi turned to leave, he paused under the stars, then shook his head and vanished down the road.

Inside, Kazuki watched him go from the window, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves while looking unsure.

His hand closed into a fist, looking at it deep in thought.

And somewhere far away, another red-haired youth declared:

"My Era begins now!"

~Unknown Sea — Aboard the Ship of the White Kraken Pirates~

Waves groaned beneath the jagged hull of the vessel, carved with symbols of krakens and skeletal anchors, its black sails flapping against a wind that seemed to fear its course. The ship carved a crooked path through the fog-choked waters, its presence alone enough to make the sea shiver.

On the main deck, a pale-skinned woman in an immaculate white coat stood with a clipboard, her eyes sharp behind wireframe glasses. Her raven-black hair was tied tight, and every checkmark she made was cold, deliberate. She paused, glancing toward the man perched atop the rail like a bird of omen.

Captain Icura Sylvester.

He wore white from head to toe — a tailored suit now slightly ash-stained — and a sleek, featureless mask that gleamed in the moonlight. He balanced three small orbs between his fingers, rolling them across his knuckles in slow, hypnotic motion. His posture was relaxed, almost playful, but his very presence twisted the air with unease.

"Captain," the woman asked, her voice low and composed. "What's our next heading?"

Icura didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he tilted his head skyward, humming a quiet, unsettling tune. Then, in a sudden flourish, he flung the three orbs high into the night.

The sky lit up.

BOOM.

Each orb erupted in sequence — one with searing flame, another with jagged violet lightning, and the third with a pulse of shockwave that rattled the bones of the ship. The blast illuminated the fog in a crimson hue, briefly revealing monstrous shadows within the mist — illusions, or perhaps something more.

The crew watched in silence. Some grinned. Others shivered.

Below the thunderous echoes, Icura slowly stood, the fire dancing in his mask's reflection. His voice, when it came, was smooth and unhurried — yet thick with threat.

"To the Grand Line," he whispered, stretching out his hand as if embracing the chaos to come before he closed it into a tight fist. "That's where half the game begins."

He chuckled, a low, broken laugh that rumbled beneath the deck and made the sea itself seem to pause.

"May all eras, past and future—burn brilliantly." 

The burning sky above him crowned his silhouette in flame, and the shadows behind him stretched long — too long — into the depths of the fog.

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To be continued…