One Howling Adventure 8 (Patreon)

Sorry for the lateness of the upload, no excuse, just haven't been writing like I should.

[hr][/hr]

I stepped out onto the platform surrounding the Baratie, rolling my shoulders to loosen them up a little. Fight time coming up, probably going to be dealing with the chaff while Luffy and Sanji dealt with the important ones… fuck, who was it that Zoro fought here? I remember it being a big deal but not anything more specific than tha… ho-ly shit! How did… what the fuck?

“How the everloving fuck did that ship split cleanly in half?” I asked aloud, my eye widens and my jaw hanging low.

The question was rhetorical, me voicing my confusion, but I was pleasantly surprised when there was an answer given by the Old Fart (Zeff! That’s his name), “That’s a parlor trick, boy. It’s something damn near everyone on the Grand Line can do, or some variation of it. In this case, unless I miss my guess, based on the dinghy over there, Krieg and his ilk managed to annoy the World’s Greatest Swordsman.”

Oh… oh shit. Stay calm, Zoro survived in the manga, so something must go right here, for him not to be killed. Fuck I don’t want to lose my sparring partner. But… this isn’t something I can interfere in. I’ve noticed it, Zoro’s a little too confident in his abilities. Don’t get me wrong, he’s probably the best pure swordsman in the East Blue. But he’s got no clue just how insane the rest of this world is.

I vaguely remember a fanfic, back home, where someone talked about people who eat Devil Fruits thinking themselves invincible until they get a wake up call, and how Zoans and Paramecias got that call earlier than Logias did. My wake up call cost me an eye, and while Zoro doesn’t have a Devil Fruit, the principle’s the same. He needs this, he needs to see just how far the horizon is. So as Zoro stepped forwards, tying his bandana with an eager grin on his face, I crossed my arms and growled in frustration. I felt Zeff’s curious gaze lingering on my back, but neither of us said a word.

Some of Krieg’s men stared and pointed at me, but the majority were focused on that, admittedly deserved, arrogant shit Mihawk as he toyed with Zoro, using what looked like a sharpened butter knife against Zoro’s three katana. As the “fight” occurred, there was shouting from the side, Johnny and whatshisname in something of a panic. I wanted to pay attention, but Zoro wasn’t the only one who needed to see what the top was like. If I was going to be a Straw Hat Pirate, I needed to get an idea of what sort of strength I needed.

I was always good at studying fighting, it’s what let me do so well in the MMA circuit. Watching Mihawk… it was damn near a religious experience. Not one wasted twitch, moving to parry three moves in advance, every single aspect of his body and motions soaked in the lessons of blood and death that he’d seen, experienced, and learned from. There was no other way to put it: watching Hawkeye Mihawk fight was watching a god of death dance.

Much as I was worried for Zoro, I couldn’t help it: I was honored to witness even this tiny scrap of a great master’s skill. He was teaching those watching, so long as they had the willingness to learn and the ability to see the lessons he was imparting.

Then the lesson ended, and it was over in a flash. Zoro moved in, and Mihawk stabbed him, right over the heart. But… I’d almost swear I felt something in that moment. Something about the way that Mihawk stood, the way he held his feet, as he moved in… I burned the memory into my mind, my lone eye narrowed as I focused on keeping track of both swordsmen as the moment for the final blow came. Zoro’s resolve, determination, and grit had prompted Mihawk to draw his real blade, instead of the dainty fileting knife he had been using.

It pissed me off to watch, but there was only one way this fight could end. Sure enough, the moment the two clashed, when Mihawk’s two handed sword met Zoro’s two katanas, Zoro’s blades shattered, their wielder’s will not yet strong enough to allow them to survive contact with the finest swordsman in the world. Much as I wanted to close my eye, I kept my gaze fixed on the two as Zoro stood, Wado in hand and his arms outstretched, and Mihawk cut our swordsman down with a single stroke of his blade.

My chest flared in phantom pain as Zoro fell into the sea, Johnny and Yasoke swimming to him and hauling him into a dinghy. Luffy took a swing at Mihawk (futily, much to both of our frustration), moments before Zoro made his promise. Mihawk made his way to his own coffin shaped dinghy, but I had something that I needed to say before he left.

“HAWKEYE MIHAWK!” I called out, stepping forwards and getting the attention of everyone.

“What’s this? A dog that wants to be put down? I have no interest in those that do not carry a sword, let alone…” Mihawk trailed off, derision giving way to a note of confusion in his voice, as I bowed low to him.

“Thank you for the lesson, for deigning to show even a fraction of what you have to teach,” I said, pouring as much honest gratitude into the words as I could.

The chefs of Baratie and Krieg’s crew all murmured in confusion, even Mihawk himself had a puzzled look on his face as I stood from my bow. There was an amused snort from Zeff behind me, at the same time as Mihawk’s eyes lit with understanding. The sword-master gave a chuckle, amusement filling his form, before he turned back to Luffy.

“Quite the amusing crew you’ve gathered for yourself, Girl. I am curious to see how far you go,” he told her, before boarding his dinghy and setting sail.

“What horse-shit was that? What lesson?” Krieg shouted, looking between me and the departing Mihawk. “Answer me you Devil Fruit freak!”

I didn’t answer, both because the little man wasn’t worth the wasted air, and because it’d piss him off more. Instead, I turned around, showing my back in a not-so-subtle display of what I thought of him, and made my way back towards where Zeff was standing. The older man gave me a searching look, a small smirk hidden by his dwarf-worthy mustache.

“Glad to see Dindo’s fruit didn’t end up in the hands of a complete idiot,” Zeff quipped as I turned back to face the Krieg pirates.

“Emphasis there is on ‘complete’, I’m guessing?” I shot back.

Zeff let out another snort, as a shirtless member of Krieg’s crew stepped to the forefront and started lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet. I raised an eyebrow as he pointed at me, but a chance for a one on one fight wasn’t something I was willing to pass up on. I rolled my neck, a smirk on my muzzle as I stepped forwards.

“Ya sure ya wanna do this? Surrender and I’ll be nice,” I told him.

The man, Jack based on the way the rest of his crew were chanting the name, just gave me a bloodthirsty grin before… ah, yeah, that makes sense. Okay, so Krieg had a zoan on his crew… but seriously?

“Let me guess,” my voice was drier than Alabasta, “Kangaroo Jack?”

“Got it in one, Fluffy,” he shot back, his arms rising in a boxing guard as his tail rested flat on the platform. I brought my own arms up in a ready guard. Before I blinked.

“I thought only female kangaroos had the pouch?” I asked in honest confusion. His face went stone cold, even as several of his crew started laughing.

“I’m going to enjoy this far more than I should,” Kangaroo Jack growled, sounding even more bloodthirsty than me at that.

Mentally shrugging, I did my best to get a read on the way his body was held. The way he carried his weight, the position of his arms, hips, legs, all of it could tell you at a glance if your opponent would favor kicks, punches, or some other type of strike. Obviously, he would utilize kicks, which from just a regular kangaroo would pack enough power to break bones even without considering the massive toe claw. But the build up of calluses and bone deformations on his elbows and knees told me that he’d also trained in utilizing elbow and knee strikes.

Goodie, Muay Thai was so much fun to fight against. I felt myself grin as I rolled my neck (getting a couple satisfying pops) before rushing in. I kept an eye on his core, focusing on the tensing of muscle that would telegraph his response. Sure enough, as I came in close, his abs tensed, his foot scything through the air, on a collision course with my head.

But Kangaroo Jack wasn’t the only Muay Thai practitioner. My left arm came up, my torso twisting as I used the torque to add speed to my strike. My elbow, with its own cap of hardened bone from countless strikes against wooden boards, slammed into the top of his foot, the collision sending waves of force up and down my arm that I forced myself to continue, pushing past and ignoring the pain. His foot went wide, and I grinned as I brought my own knee up for…

The sharp, agonizing shock of pain that surged up from my crotch forced a whimper from my lips as I aborted my attack and rolled back, accompanied by sympathetic groans from the observers. Clutching my tender twig ‘n berries, I glared at my opponent with as much hate and venom as I could muster. Right, tail. Can act as a third leg if need arises. Fuck that smug looking bastard, let’s see how he likes getting kicked in the dick.

“I’m going to start beating you now,” I growled as I stood straight, my arms up in a guard and my side facing him. “I don’t know when I’ll stop.”

Kangaroo Jack just grinned, leaping forwards to re-engage with me as fists, feet, elbows, and knees all flew. My knee hitting his rib cage. His claws slashing against my muzzle. My elbow deflecting a push kick. Another kick to my dick. We broke apart, panting to regain our breath. Right, after we got to the next island, I was buying a cup. I don’t care how much interest Nami charges me, I am getting the best, most protective cup I can get my furry little paws on.

Okay, I stood up with a growl rumbling in my chest. Third time’s the charm. He just looked at me with a smug, punchable grin on his face. I hated his face so much right now. With a snarl, I launched myself forwards, keeping track of his feet and his tail. It was that last one that kept throwing me off, as it basically gave him a third leg to stand on so he could deliver more powerful kicks or launch a second one immediately after the first.

“What’s the matter?” Kangaroo Jack mocked as he ducked under a punch. “I thought you were going to start beating me, yet all I’m seeing is me kicking your ass. Mihawk had the right of it, you’re just a dog to be put down. If you don’t change back after I kill you, I think I’ll skin you and make a coat from your fur.”

I hopped back out of the way of a kick, the claw in the middle grazing the fur of my chest, before I answered, “You need to work on your trash talk, you okama wannabe.”

Ooh, that really pissed him off, if the veritable waves of hatred emanating from him were anything to go by. I braced myself, as he balanced on his tail and launched a flurry of kicks at me, and I did my absolute best to avoid them, deflecting when I couldn’t dodge. But, one kick got through.

I went flying, nearly folded in half from the force of the blow. I vaguely heard sounds of distress, moments before my back impacted wood and my impromptu flight came to a sudden end.

“He keeps,” I groaned in pain, “kickin’ me… in the dick. Why? Why does he keep… kickin’ me in the dick?”

“The problem is yer still fightin’ like a human,” Zeff’s voice pulled me from the haze of pain radiating from my groin. “You’re not just human anymore, you ate a Devil Fruit. That means you’ve got power, but you’re not using anything more than the baseline. You have the body and capabilities of a dire wolf, use them.”

I blinked at Zeff, before turning back to face Kangaroo Jack. The smug son of a bitch was hopping in place, looking far too smug for my liking. Zeff was right, my opponent was utilizing the gifts granted by his Devil Fruit far more than I was, all I’d really done was enjoy the boosts to my physical capabilities, not take advantage of the new options it had provided. No more.