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

The Red-Haired Pirates had set sail, leaving behind the once lively Windmill Village. The village, which had grown accustomed to the presence of the rowdy pirates, fell into an odd stillness. The people of Windmill Village had gotten used to the cheerful energy that Shanks and his crew brought with them, the carefree laughter, and the stories of distant lands. Their absence left a void that could not easily be filled.

For most, the villagers' hearts felt empty, as if something essential had been lost. The everyday routine returned, but it was as if the life had been drained out of the village. The once vibrant streets now seemed quieter, and the smiles of the villagers seemed more forced. It wasn't that they hadn't enjoyed the peace before; it was just that the sudden absence of the pirates had left them with an unspoken sense of longing.

Yet amidst this stillness, there was one who didn't feel the loss as sharply. Satoru, always the pragmatic, had already moved past it. While the villagers quietly mourned the pirates' departure, Satoru knew deep down that it wouldn't be long before Shanks and his crew returned. Whether it would be in a corner of the New World or somewhere along the Grand Line, their paths would cross again. He had no doubt. Pirates like Shanks weren't easy to forget. It was only a matter of time before their adventures would bring them back here, and when that day came, Satoru would be ready for it.

For now, though, Satoru continued his daily training. He had been pushing himself harder than ever, his body becoming stronger with each passing day. But despite his physical growth, he remained unsatisfied. He still hadn't mastered the final technique he was aiming for. Until he did, he couldn't truly relax.

Meanwhile, Luffy, though he had initially been downcast after Shanks' departure, had started to recover. His determination burned brighter than ever. Every day, he followed Satoru around like a shadow, determined to train with him. Luffy had made up his mind—he would become a great pirate, just like Shanks. The dream of joining the Navy had long been forgotten. Shanks had completely captured his heart, and there was no turning back now. The word "Navy" no longer had any place in his mind. Every thought he had was consumed with becoming a pirate, a free spirit on the open sea.

Satoru had always been patient with Luffy, but now, he couldn't help but notice the shift in his behavior. The boy was no longer just a rambunctious kid who dreamt of adventure; he had become a young man with a singular goal. His childish innocence had started to fade, replaced by the burning desire to carve his own path.

But Satoru's own path was different. While Luffy dreamed of becoming a pirate, Satoru dreamed of perfecting his techniques. He was closer to his goal than ever before, but he knew that strength wasn't the only factor in a battle. He had to master the technique he was working on, a move that would ensure his victory in any future conflict. Without it, he couldn't be certain of his success. This was his way of ensuring that no one—no matter how strong—could defeat him in battle. And, as much as he hated to admit it, the idea of being beaten by someone still gnawed at him. That fear drove him forward.

It wasn't just strength he was after. It was the assurance that no matter the odds, he would always come out on top. But that day hadn't come yet. The technique he sought was still elusive, and with each passing day, his frustration grew.

Then one day, while training on the beach, a disturbance caught his eye. A small speck on the horizon, growing larger as it approached. Satoru's eyes narrowed. Another ship. But this wasn't the Red-Haired Pirates. No, this was different. He could see the shape of the ship more clearly now—a black flag with a skull emblem, one he didn't recognize. Pirates.

Satoru's senses sharpened. His heart rate increased ever so slightly. He had felt the air of danger before, and this ship reeked of it. The villagers were blissfully unaware, but Satoru couldn't afford to ignore this. He had to act fast. He couldn't let anyone bring harm to the village, especially not now when the memory of the Red-Haired Pirates' departure was still fresh.

He didn't panic. No, Satoru had long since learned to remain calm in the face of danger. But there was a seriousness to his expression now. His fingers twitched, ready for action. His training had brought him to this point—he was no longer the inexperienced youth who had first arrived at Windmill Village. He was stronger, faster, and more capable than he'd ever been before.

As the pirate ship docked and the crew began to disembark, Satoru watched from the shadows. His eyes scanned them, taking in their movements, their expressions. This group wasn't like the Red-Haired Pirates. These pirates were arrogant, their presence domineering. They didn't seem to care about the village, about the people, about anything except themselves.

Satoru's instincts told him that trouble was imminent. The pirates' demeanor screamed danger. They weren't just here to plunder—they were here to make a statement. The captain of the group, a man with a scarred face and a cruel smile, seemed to take particular delight in the beauty of the village.

"Well, well, well… I didn't expect to find such a charming little village," the captain said, his voice dripping with malice.

The other pirates laughed, their voices harsh and unrefined. "Hahaha, too bad it won't stay so charming for long."

Satoru's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, his mind racing. He knew these pirates weren't ordinary thieves. They weren't just here for gold or treasure—they were slave traders. And they had their eyes on the villagers.

One of the pirates spotted Satoru as he stepped out from his hiding place. "Hey, look! A kid!"

The captain's eyes gleamed with greed as he looked Satoru over. "Well, well, what do we have here? A pretty boy. I'm sure he'd fetch a fine price."

Satoru's expression remained calm, his gaze unwavering. He didn't flinch. "You're in the hometown of Vice Admiral Garp. Are you sure you want to mess with this village?"

The words hit like a slap in the face. The pirates froze. The name Garp had power, even in places far removed from the Navy's influence. Some of the pirates exchanged uneasy glances, but the captain only laughed.

"Hahaha! The hometown of Garp, huh? Well, that's even better," he sneered. "Maybe I'll sell you to the World Nobles. They'll love someone like you."

His words were a declaration of intent. No longer were they here just for plunder—they were here to make a name for themselves, to challenge the legacy of Garp.

The pirate captain turned to his crew, a dark excitement in his eyes. "This is our chance to make our mark on the world! We take this village, and everyone will know our names! Don't hold back!"

Satoru's eyes narrowed. He knew he couldn't let this go unchallenged. Not today. Not here.

With that, the stage was set. The pirates had made their move. And Satoru was ready to defend Windmill Village, no matter the cost.