One Piece: Shiro Oni

The slow clap reverberated across the bloodstained deck, breaking the eerie silence that followed the carnage. Noir turned, his breathing ragged and his body trembling from exertion, to see the source of the sound.

A tall figure emerged from the shadows, his black coat catching the flicker of lantern light. Silver spikes adorned the edges of his outfit, gleaming menacingly. His hands were encased in steel gauntlets lined with sharp studs, their sheer weight evident with every step he took.

"Well, I have to admit," the man said, his deep, gravelly voice carrying a mocking undertone. "You've got quite the nerve, taking down thirty of my men. Impressive, really. But I wonder…" He raised one gauntleted hand, cracking his knuckles. "How long can you last against me?"

Noir straightened, his bloodied lips curling into a grin. Despite the pain coursing through his battered body, the anticipation in his eyes burned bright.

"So you're the big guy, huh?" he said, cracking his neck. His voice, though tired, carried the same unshakable defiance. "Ryo, I assume? Second-in-command of this merry band of bastards?"

Ryo's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "You've done your homework."

"Not much to it," Noir replied, shrugging. "I take out the lackeys, and then the boss's lapdog always shows up to finish the job. Same routine." He spread his arms wide, blood dripping from his fingertips onto the deck. "So come on, Ryo. Let's see if you can put me down."

Ryo's expression darkened, and without another word, he launched forward with surprising speed. Noir barely had time to react as a steel-clad fist rocketed toward his chest. He twisted his body, the gauntlet grazing his ribs and tearing through the remains of his shirt.

The force of the near-miss alone was enough to send Noir stumbling backward, his feet skidding across the blood-soaked deck.

"Fast and strong," Noir muttered, his grin widening despite the sharp pain in his side. "This'll be fun."

Ryo wasted no time, closing the distance between them with a speed that belied his size. He swung again, this time aiming for Noir's head. Noir ducked, but the fist clipped the top of his shoulder, sending a shockwave of pain through his body.

Noir retaliated with a wild right hook, his fist slamming into Ryo's jaw. The impact made Ryo stagger slightly, but the man barely seemed fazed. Instead, he smirked, his gauntleted hand reaching out to grab Noir's arm.

"Predictable," Ryo muttered, his grip like a vice.

Before Noir could pull away, Ryo yanked him forward and drove his knee into Noir's stomach. The air was forced from Noir's lungs, and he stumbled, barely managing to stay on his feet.

"Damn… That one hurt," Noir wheezed, clutching his midsection.

"You should've stayed in the cell," Ryo said coldly, raising his gauntlet again.

Noir didn't give him the chance to strike. With a roar, he surged forward, slamming his forehead into Ryo's nose. The unexpected attack made Ryo take a step back, blood trickling from his nostrils.

"Sorry," Noir growled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm not much for taking orders."

The two clashed again, their movements blurring as fists and kicks collided. Ryo's strikes were calculated and precise, each one aiming for a vital point. In contrast, Noir's style was chaotic, almost animalistic.

Ryo landed a devastating uppercut to Noir's chin, sending him sprawling across the deck. The world spun for a moment, but Noir shook it off, dragging himself to his feet. Blood trickled from his mouth, yet the crazed grin on his face never wavered.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Ryo asked, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

"Of course I am," Noir spat, wiping the blood from his lips. "You're the best warm-up I've had in years."

Ryo narrowed his eyes. "You're insane."

"Maybe," Noir replied, lunging forward again.

The battle raged on, and Noir found himself increasingly on the defensive. His body screamed in protest with every movement, his muscles aching from the sheer exertion. He had been pushing himself to his limits since the fight with the 30 pirates, and now it was catching up to him.

Ryo's gauntlets were relentless, each blow hitting like a sledgehammer. One particularly vicious strike caught Noir's left arm, a sickening crack echoing through the air. Pain shot through him as his arm hung limply by his side.

"Looks like you're down an arm," Ryo said, his voice devoid of sympathy.

Noir only grinned wider, his bloodstained teeth glinting in the moonlight. "One arm's all I need," he shot back, rushing forward again.

Even with his left arm broken, Noir continued to fight. He used his injured limb to block some of Ryo's attacks, ignoring the searing pain that followed. His adrenaline-fueled determination was almost inhuman.

"How the hell are you still standing?" Ryo asked, genuine confusion creeping into his voice.

"Because," Noir said, his breathing ragged. "This… is too much fun to quit."

With a guttural roar, Noir lowered his head and charged at Ryo like a bull. The sheer force of the tackle caught Ryo off guard, and the two crashed through the railing of the ship, plummeting onto the sandy shore below.

The impact left both men momentarily stunned, but Noir was the first to rise.

"Looks like we've got more room now," he said, spitting blood onto the sand. "Let's keep going."

Ryo growled, brushing the sand off his coat. "You're unbelievable," he muttered before charging again.

The fight on the beach was even more brutal. Noir's movements became more erratic as his body began to fail him, but his strikes still carried a ferocity that kept Ryo on edge.

Ryo landed a heavy punch to Noir's ribs, the force making him stagger. Noir retaliated with a wild haymaker, the blow connecting with Ryo's temple.

Blood poured freely from both men, their bodies battered and bruised. Yet neither showed any sign of backing down.

"You're tough," Ryo admitted, his voice grudgingly respectful. "But you're outmatched."

"Outmatched?" Noir repeated, laughing through the pain. "Maybe. But I'm not out of the fight."

With a final surge of strength, Noir lunged forward, throwing every ounce of his remaining power into one last strike. Ryo braced himself, raising his gauntlets to block, but the sheer force of Noir's attack sent him skidding backward across the sand.

The two men stood there, panting and bloodied, staring each other down.

"You're insane," Ryo said again, this time with a hint of admiration.

"And you're still standing," Noir replied, a twisted grin on his face. "Guess we'll see who drops first."

Noir's chest rose and fell rapidly, the cold night air stinging his lungs as the blood on his face mixed with sweat. Across the sand, Ryo stood firm, his steel gauntlets glinting under the pale moonlight. Despite the numerous cuts and bruises littering his body, Ryo's smirk hadn't faded.

"You're one stubborn bastard," Ryo growled, rolling his shoulders. "But this ends now."

Noir grinned through the crimson streaks running down his face, his left arm hanging limp yet twitching as adrenaline surged through his veins. "You're right about one thing," Noir said, spitting blood onto the ground. "This does end now—but not the way you're hoping."

Ryo's eyes narrowed as Noir suddenly surged forward, his broken left arm moving unnaturally, swinging with reckless abandon. Ryo raised his gauntlets, catching the punch, but the sheer force behind Noir's strike caused his feet to slide back through the sand.

"What the hell?" Ryo muttered, glancing at Noir's broken arm. The way it moved, the veins bulging against Noir's skin—it was as if the limb had forgotten it was supposed to be incapacitated.

"You're not the first to underestimate me," Noir said, his voice hoarse but steady. "And you won't be the last."

Noir's strikes came faster, each one more erratic yet brutally effective. His punches were wild but powerful, his knees found openings in Ryo's guard, and even his head snapped forward to connect with Ryo's face when the opportunity presented itself.

Ryo, for the first time in years, felt genuine frustration. No matter how many times he countered, blocked, or struck back, Noir refused to falter.

"You're a lunatic," Ryo hissed, landing a clean uppercut to Noir's jaw. The blow sent Noir stumbling back, blood spraying from his mouth, yet the crazed grin on his face never wavered.

"And you're predictable," Noir retorted, immediately closing the gap and slamming his elbow into Ryo's ribs.

The two clashed again, exchanging blows that sent shockwaves across the beach. Each punch, kick, and collision of flesh echoed in the empty night, the sheer brutality of their fight scarring the sandy terrain beneath them.

As the fight dragged on, Noir's body began to falter. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and his legs trembled under the weight of his own exhaustion. Meanwhile, Ryo remained relentless, pressing his advantage.

"Give it up, you're done!" Ryo roared, delivering a devastating blow to Noir's side that sent him crashing into a large boulder, its surface rough and unyielding.

Noir slumped against the rock, his head spinning. He could barely lift his arms, and his vision blurred at the edges. Ryo loomed over him, a shadow of impending doom.

"This is where it ends," Ryo said, raising his gauntlet high. He aimed for Noir's face, his intent to finish the fight clear.

But Noir's grin returned, blood-stained and wild.

"Wrong," he muttered.

At the last second, Noir tilted his head to the side, Ryo's fist grazing the rock with a dull thud. Noir used the opportunity to grab Ryo's head with both hands—ignoring the searing pain in his broken arm—and pulled him forward with all his strength.

CRACK!

Ryo's face collided with the boulder, the force reverberating through the air. He stumbled, dazed, but Noir didn't stop.

Noir let out a guttural roar as he slammed Ryo's head into the boulder again, and again, and again. Each impact left deeper cracks in the rock and painted its surface with streaks of blood.

"You… think you can do whatever you want?" Noir snarled, his voice shaking with rage. "You think you can treat people like trash? Like property?"

Ryo tried to push Noir away, but Noir didn't relent. He drove his elbow into Ryo's temple, then followed with a savage knee to the jaw. When Ryo dropped to his knees, Noir unleashed a flurry of punches, each one fueled by raw hatred.

"I hate bastards like you," Noir growled, his voice breaking. "Bastards who think they're gods, playing with other people's lives!"

Ryo's body slumped, his movements slowing with each strike. Finally, Noir delivered one last devastating punch to the side of his head. Ryo collapsed face-first into the sand, his body motionless.

Noir staggered back, his chest heaving. He stared down at Ryo's lifeless form, his fists trembling. Blood dripped from his knuckles, mixing with the sand below.

As Noir turned to leave, his ears caught the faint sound of footsteps crunching against the sand. He looked up to see the pirate captain standing at the edge of the beach, near the ship.

The man's face was a mask of fury, his sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of a cigarette hanging between his lips. His eyes flicked over the scene—the battered bodies of his men, the lifeless Ryo—and finally landed on Noir.

The cigarette snapped in half between the captain's teeth as his jaw clenched. Smoke curled around his face, accentuating the growing rage in his eyes.

"So," the captain growled, his voice low and menacing. "You're the one who ruined my crew."

Noir met his gaze, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His body ached, his vision swam, but he straightened, forcing himself to stand tall.

"And I'll ruin you too," Noir said, his grin returning, wild and defiant.

The captain stepped forward, his presence radiating a deadly aura.

"You'll pay for this," he said, his voice dripping with venom.

Gary's cold, piercing gaze locked onto Noir, who stood hunched over in the sand, his body battered and trembling. The gap between them was undeniable; Noir was fighting with nothing but sheer willpower, his body screaming for rest.

Gary's massive frame seemed almost to glow under the moonlight, his spiked gauntlets dripping with blood. His calm demeanor radiated absolute confidence—a predator who knew his prey was already cornered.

"Still standing?" Gary said, his deep voice laced with disdain. "You're either insane or too stupid to know when you're beat."

Noir straightened slightly, his lips curling into a faint grin despite the crimson streaks running down his face. His breaths were shallow, each one a battle against the pain in his ribs.

"Maybe both," Noir replied, his voice hoarse but defiant. "But I've got a policy—if you're gonna hit me, you'd better kill me."

Gary's eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his otherwise composed face. Without another word, he lunged forward, his spiked gauntlet swinging with devastating speed and precision.

Noir ducked, the air around him rippling as the gauntlet narrowly missed his head. He countered with a straight punch aimed at Gary's chest, but his movements were sluggish. Gary sidestepped effortlessly, catching Noir's arm mid-swing.

"You're slow," Gary muttered, tightening his grip.

Before Noir could react, Gary twisted his arm and delivered a brutal punch to his side. The force sent Noir flying several meters, his body crashing into the sand.

Noir groaned, coughing up blood as he tried to push himself to his feet. The world spun, his vision blurring, but he refused to stay down.

Gary watched him with a mix of curiosity and contempt. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"

Noir wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin widening despite the pain. "Quitting's not in my vocabulary."

Gary's patience wore thin. He surged forward again, this time swinging his gauntlet in a wide arc. Noir raised his arms to block, but the spikes tore into his left side, ripping through flesh.

A sharp pain shot through Noir's body as he was sent tumbling across the sand. When he stopped, he remained motionless for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Gary approached, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. "This is pathetic," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You're already dead, you just don't know it yet."

Noir lifted his head slowly, his left eye bloodied and swollen shut. He could barely see through the haze of red, but his right eye still burned with defiance.

He raised his hand, staring at the blood dripping from his fingertips. "So much for perfect vision," he muttered, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

Gary's lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk appearing. "You're not even worth the effort."

Noir clenched his fists, forcing his battered body to stand. Each step felt like dragging weights, but he refused to let himself collapse. "I don't care what you think," he said, his voice steady despite his injuries. "You're not walking out of here unscathed."

The battle resumed, though it was clear Noir was fighting an uphill battle. His attacks were slow, his punches lacked power, and his movements were riddled with openings. Gary, by contrast, was methodical, dodging with ease and countering with devastating precision.

Another swing of Gary's gauntlet connected with Noir's ribs, sending him crashing into a nearby tree. Noir groaned, blood pooling beneath him as he struggled to stand.

"You're done," Gary said, walking toward him. "Stay down, and I'll make it quick."

Noir coughed, his voice raspy but defiant. "Where's the fun in that?"

Gary's eyes darkened, his patience finally snapping. He lunged at Noir, slamming his fist into Noir's face. The spikes dug deep, and Noir felt a sharp, searing pain in his left eye.

"Ah… damn it…" Noir muttered as he stumbled back, clutching his face. Blood poured from the wound, blinding him in one eye.

Gary smirked. "You're falling apart, and yet you still think you can win. That's what makes you pathetic."

Noir let out a bitter laugh, lowering his bloodied hand. His left eye was swollen shut, but his grin remained intact. "Pathetic, huh? I've been called worse."

Gary's annoyance turned to frustration. He dashed forward, delivering a powerful punch to Noir's stomach. Noir's body lifted off the ground before slamming back into the sand, motionless.

Gary stood over him, watching for any signs of movement. When Noir didn't stir, he scoffed and turned toward the forest.

A cry echoed from the shadows—high-pitched and frantic. Gary stopped in his tracks, his gaze snapping toward the source.

"that stupid woman…" Noir muttered weakly, the sound pulling him back from the brink of unconsciousness.

Memories of the past few days flooded his mind—the moments spent training Ihwa, helping her regain her will to live, and the faint hope she carried in her eyes. To be honest, he didn't care about them, including Ihwa. The reason he trained Ihwa was because they were in the same cell. If Ihwa didn't return to being a normal human, he would definitely have a hard time in the next few days. But if this monster wasn't killed, they would all return to the pit of hell.

"They have to make it," Noir whispered, his voice barely audible.

Noir decided to use the last resort, Reverse Eyes, where he could control 100%, but now he will release his control making him unconscious.

[You are overwhelmed with conviction.]

[Your Potential has begun to evolve.]

[Your Potential has reached its maximum limit.]

[Congratulations!]

[You have Awakened.]

[As a bonus for achieving Awakened rank SSS Potential, three new skills have been acquired.]

Gary froze as a chill ran down his spine. Slowly, he turned to look at Noir's body, only to see him rising again.

Blood dripped from every inch of Noir's frame, his left arm hanging limp and his left eye still blinded. But his presence was unmistakable—a force of sheer willpower refusing to die.

Gary's eyes widened. "What the…? You should be dead!"

[POV: Ihwa]

I crouched low behind a thick tree, my heart pounding so loud I thought it would give us away. The forest was dark, its heavy canopy casting shadows that seemed to stretch and shift with each passing second. Beside me, the three women huddled in silence, their vacant eyes staring into nothingness. They were just like I had been not long ago—empty, broken, living without truly being alive.

The sounds of battle echoed from the beach not far away. Steel clashed, fists struck flesh, and sand shifted under heavy steps. Noir's grunts of pain, Gary's mocking laughter, and the thundering crashes of their blows shook the night air. I could see flashes of movement through the gaps in the trees—the towering figure of Gary and Noir's much smaller, battered form.

Each time Noir was struck, each time his body hit the ground, my fingers dug deeper into the rough bark of the tree in front of me. My breath came in short, shallow bursts, and my chest tightened with every second that passed.

He was going to die.

The thought twisted like a knife in my stomach. Noir was going to die, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

Even if I wanted to rush in and help him, my instincts screamed that it would only get me killed. I had no strength, no skill. What could I do against someone like Gary, a monster who could break bones with a single punch? Noir had warned me, too.

"Don't interfere," he had said. His voice was as cold as the sea at night, leaving no room for argument. "I hate it when people try to help me in a fight."

But watching him now—seeing him collapse, his blood staining the sand—I wanted to scream. I wanted to do something, anything. He was the only person I had.

Noir didn't care about me. I knew that. He had only trained me because we'd been thrown into the same cell, and I'd been too broken to function. But that didn't matter. He didn't need to care about me.

Because I cared about him.

To me, Noir was everything. He had taught me how to live again. He had given me something no one else ever had: a reason to move forward, even if it was just to stay by his side.

I glanced at the women beside me, their bodies trembling as they huddled together. They didn't react to the sounds of the fight, their minds too far gone to process what was happening. Seeing them like this hurt, a cruel reminder of the person I used to be.

I remembered the first time Noir had spoken to me.

"You can't even talk properly, can you?" he had muttered, his tone blunt but not cruel.

I had shaken my head, unable to form a single word. The memories of my former life—my name, my voice—were buried beneath years of pain and humiliation.

"Fine," he had said, sighing as if it was more trouble than it was worth. "We'll start with the basics."

And so he taught me. Slowly, patiently, though his gruff demeanor often made it seem like he didn't care. He showed me how to speak again, how to pronounce words, how to string sentences together.

"Try again," he'd say whenever I stumbled over a word. His voice was firm, but not unkind. "You'll get it eventually."

When I finally managed to say my name, his lips had twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "Good enough," he'd said, though I caught the small nod of approval he gave when he thought I wasn't looking.

It wasn't just words he taught me. Noir showed me how to walk properly again, how to eat without spilling food everywhere. He made me train with him, even though I could barely keep up.

"You'll never survive if you stay like this," he'd said, handing me a piece of scrap metal to use as a makeshift weight. "Push through the pain. That's the only way to get stronger."

I'd hated it at first. My body was weak, my muscles screaming in protest with every movement. But he didn't let me stop, and eventually, I began to see the changes. My legs grew steadier, my hands stopped trembling, and the hollow feeling in my chest started to fade.

After every grueling training session, I would collapse onto Noir, too exhausted to care about his protests.

"Get off me," he'd grumble, trying to push me away.

But I never listened. I'd cling to him, ignoring his complaints as I let my head rest against his shoulder. He always sighed in defeat, muttering about how annoying I was, but he never truly pushed me away.

Now, as I watched Noir from the safety of the trees, those memories filled my mind. I could almost hear his voice, rough but steady, telling me to get up, to keep going.

But he was the one who needed to get up now.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Don't die."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as Noir staggered under another blow. Gary loomed over him, his gauntlets gleaming under the moonlight. Noir's body was broken, his movements sluggish, but he still fought back, landing punches that seemed to shake even Gary's massive frame.

But it wasn't enough.

Gary's gauntlet slammed into Noir's side, sending him crashing into the sand. He didn't get up this time.

"No…"

I could feel the scream building in my chest, the raw, desperate sound clawing its way up my throat.

And after I could cry out, Noir moved.

Blood dripped from his body, his left arm hanging limp, his eye swollen shut. But he stood. Slowly, impossibly, he stood.

Gary's eyes widened, a flicker of unease crossing his face.

"What the…? You should be dead!"

He didn't say a word, but the air around him seemed to change, crackling with an energy I couldn't describe.

Then I saw his eyes.

Pitch black with glowing white irises, they burned with an intensity that made my breath catch. This wasn't the Noir I knew. This was something else entirely.

I watched in stunned silence as Noir lunged at Gary, his movements wild and feral. Each strike was faster, harder, more brutal than the last.

This wasn't a fight anymore.

It was a massacre.

For the first time since meeting him, I was afraid of Noir. But that fear was drowned out by something stronger: awe.

To me, Noir was already the strongest. Now, he was unstoppable.

I didn't know how long the fight lasted. Seconds, minutes, hours—it all