Beneath The Crimson Tides

Disclaimer:

"One Piece" and all related characters, settings, and concepts are the intellectual property of Eiichiro Oda, Shueisha, Toei Animation, and any other entities associated with the creation and distribution of the original manga and anime series. No copyright infringement is intended.
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A month had passed since I first stepped into the Fishman Karate Dojo, and time had indeed flown by. At five years old, I was the youngest in the apprentice group, my short stature and unusual appearance now a familiar sight. My yellow belt, worn with pride, was a testament to my rapid progress.

Sensei Hoshi, our head instructor, was a no-nonsense Sword-Fish Fishman who had initially viewed my presence with skepticism. Despite Grandmaster Namur's decision to include me, Hoshi's doubt was evident in his narrowed eyes and tight-lipped expressions. However, as days turned into weeks, his demeanor slowly shifted.

The training was as challenging as I had anticipated, if not more so. Sensei Hoshi drilled us relentlessly, beating the fundamental principles of Fishman Karate into our heads and honing our bodies. Each day was a test of patience, endurance, and willpower. The exhaustion that gripped my body after each session was dwarfed only by the exhilaration coursing through my veins.

As I finished my cool-down exercises, I noticed Kai approaching from the corner of my eye. Kai, who i had beaten to join the apprentice group at first had a complex expression on his face – a mixture of reluctant admiration and lingering competitiveness.

"Hey, Lucian," Kai said, his voice gruff but lacking its usual edge. "That was... impressive today. Your form is getting better."

I blinked, surprised by the unexpected compliment. "Thanks, Kai. You're not so bad yourself."

He scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile. "Don't get cocky. I'll catch up to you soon enough."

As Kai walked away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. The older students just like kai at first had once doubted my place among them now offered nods of respect. Even Sensei Hoshi's initial reservations seemed to have melted away, replaced by a gleam of approval in his eyes when he watched me train.

Just as I was about to head to the changing rooms, a commotion outside caught everyone's attention. Sensei Hoshi rushed to the dojo's entrance, his posture tense.

"Everyone, remain calm and stay inside," he commanded, his voice stern but tinged with concern.

Whispers rippled through the dojo. They tried to keep it down but with hearing was one thing i wouldnt falter in as i caught fragments of conversation – "pirates," "Mermaid Cove," "kidnapping attempt." My heart raced. This wasn't just another training exercise; something was really happening.

Sensei Hoshi turned back to us, his expression grave. "The Neptune Army is handling the situation, but some pirates have escaped towards Waterwheel Town. We need to be prepared."

As Sensei Hoshi's words sank in, a tense silence fell over the dojo. My mind raced, thinking of my mother who worked as an instructor in another part of the building. Instinctively, I scanned the room for her and even though i knew she wouldnt be panic set in as she wasnt here.

Suddenly, the door to our training area burst open. My mother, her blue skin glistening with sweat and her eyes sharp with alertness, strode in. Relief washed over me at the sight of her.

"Hoshi," she called out, her voice carrying the authority of years of experience, "we need to secure the perimeter. Some of the older students can help."

Sensei Hoshi nodded, quickly organizing the senior apprentices into groups. "Lucian," my mother's gaze fell on me, her expression a mix of concern and determination, "stay with the younger ones. Keep them calm and ready to move if necessary."

I wanted to protest, to insist that I could help, but the stern look in her eyes silenced any objection. I nodded, understanding the importance of the task she'd given me.

As the adults and older students rushed to secure the dojo, I gathered the younger apprentices. Many looked scared, some on the verge of tears. Drawing on a courage I didn't know I possessed, I spoke up.

"Everyone, remember our breathing exercises," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Let's practice them together. It'll help us stay calm."

Kai, who had stayed behind with the younger group, caught my eye and nodded approvingly. Together, we led the group through the familiar rhythmic breathing patterns that were a cornerstone of our training.

Minutes ticked by, feeling like hours. The muffled sounds of commotion outside grew louder. Suddenly, a crash echoed from the front of the dojo, followed by shouts and the distinctive sound of water being manipulated – the telltale sign of Fishman Karate in action.

"Pirates!" someone yelled from outside. "They've breached the outer defenses!"

My heart pounded in my chest. This was it – the moment where all our training would be put to the test. I looked at the frightened faces around me and made a split-second decision.

"Everyone, remember the escape route we practiced?" I asked, my voice somehow remaining calm. "Kai, can you lead them there?"

Kai's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly composed himself. "Yeah, I can do that. But what about you?"

"I'm going to help," I replied, my resolve strengthening with each word. "They might need every hand they can get.

The sight before me was overwhelming. The dojo, once a place of disciplined training, had transformed into a brutal battlefield. The air was thick with the spray of water techniques and the metallic scent of blood. Everywhere I looked, our instructors were locked in fierce combat with the invading pirates.

To my right, Sensei Hoshi was simultaneously fending off three opponents, his movements a blur of precise strikes and fluid dodges. Water whipped around him like living tendrils, keeping the pirates at bay. On the left, I spotted my mother, her face set in grim determination as she fought back-to-back with another instructor, their synchronized attacks creating a whirlpool that engulfed a group of attackers.

The pirates were numerous and well-armed, their cutlasses and pistols glinting in the chaotic fray. But our instructors were holding their ground, their mastery of Fishman Karate evident in every move they made.

My eyes were drawn to the far end of the hall where an even more intense battle was unfolding. Grandmaster Namur stood tall, his massive frame dwarfing his opponent. His hands gleamed with a black sheen that I recognized as Armament Haki, a technique I had only heard whispered about in reverent tones. He was facing off against a towering figure who I assumed was the pirate captain.

Their clash was on another level entirely. Each time their fists met, I could feel the shockwave ripple through the air, causing the very foundations of the dojo to tremble. Water and debris swirled around them in a maelstrom of raw power.

I stood there, frozen in awe and terror, my mind struggling to process the scale of the conflict before me. This was no training exercise or minor skirmish. This was a full-scale battle, the likes of which I had never imagined I'd witness so early this new life, let alone in our own dojo.

A stray water bullet whizzed past my ear, snapping me back to reality. I was exposed, vulnerable, and suddenly very aware of how out of my depth I was. The urge to turn and run back to safety was overwhelming, but something kept me rooted to the spot.

There, through the chaos, I spotted a group of younger students huddled in a corner, terror evident on their faces. They had been cut off from the escape route by the fighting. Without thinking, I started to move towards them, ducking and weaving through the battle.

As I made my way across the room, I realized that despite the intensity of the fighting, our instructors were deliberately positioning themselves to shield the students and less experienced members. They were not just fighting; they were protecting.

I reached the group of students, recognizing faces from my own class. "Follow me," I shouted over the din of battle. "We need to get to safety!"

As I began to guide them towards a side exit, a burly pirate noticed our movement and broke away from his fight with one of the senior students. He lunged towards us, a wicked grin on his scarred face.

My heart raced, but instincts honed by years of training kicked in, along with the distinct feeling of impending danger. I pushed the other students behind me and took up a defensive stance, my body naturally falling into the form I had practiced countless times. Though I knew I couldn't defeat this pirate, I was determined to buy time for the others to escape or for help to arrive.

The pirate swung his cutlass, the blade whistling through the air. I ducked, feeling the steel pass mere inches above my head. Drawing upon every ounce of strength in my small body, I prepared to counterattack. My fist, not only coated in swirling water but also crackling with the innate Electro ability inherited from my Mink heritage, cocked back. With a sharp exhale, I unleashed a vicious Sharkskin Palm Thrust aimed directly at the pirate's solar plexus.

The impact was immediate and devastating. My water-electro enhanced palm slammed into his midsection with a force that belied my size. The pirate's eyes widened in shock as he was sent stumbling backward, his body twitching from the combined assault of physical impact and electrical current. He grunted in pain, clearly caught off guard by the power behind the strike.

"Run!" I yelled to the others, seizing the moment. They didn't need to be told twice, scrambling towards safety as fast as their legs could carry them.

The pirate, however, was far from defeated. As he regained his footing, his eyes blazed with a mixture of rage and murderous intent. I prepared myself for what would undoubtedly be a grueling fight, my small frame tense and ready.

But before the pirate could launch his counterattack, a powerful jet of water slammed into him from the side. The force was so great that it sent him crashing into the wall, where he slumped to the ground, momentarily stunned.

My mother appeared beside me, her eyes a storm of fierce pride and maternal concern. "Lucian, you brave, foolish boy," she said, quickly pulling me close. "Let's get you out of here."

As she began to usher me towards safety, I cast one last glance at the ongoing battle. The scene was chaotic, with instructors and pirates locked in combat throughout the dojo. I worried for the safety of our teachers and the other students, but I knew I had done what I could for now.

We weaved through the fray, my mother's expert movements keeping us out of harm's way. As we neared the exit, a group of pirates noticed us and moved to intercept. My mother's grip on my shoulder tightened.

"Stay close," she commanded, her voice steady despite the danger.

What happened next was a blur of motion and spray. My mother moved with a grace and power I had never fully appreciated before. Her Fishman Karate techniques flowed one into another, ferociously beating back anyone that tries to get near and threw assailants aside.

I wasn't idle either. When a pirate tried to slip past my mother's defense, I was there, my small size allowing me to dart in and deliver quick, electro-water enhanced strikes to vulnerable points. The combination of our abilities created a synergy that kept us moving forward.

As we finally reached the secured area where Kai and the others waited, I heard a tremendous crash from the main battle. Turning, I saw Grandmaster Namur still locked in combat with the pirate captain though he looked to be on the winning side as the captain looked in a very poor state. Their clashes sent more shockwaves through the dojo, the very air seeming to vibrate with the force of their techniques.

"Grandmaster," I whispered, worry etching my features.

My mother placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "He'll be fine, Lucian. Grandmaster Namur is one of the strongest Fishmen alive. Now, we need to focus on keeping everyone here safe."

I nodded, understanding the importance of our role. As we organized the younger students and tended to any injuries, my mind raced with the events of the day. The exhilaration of my first real combat, the stench of death hanging in the air, and the awe at witnessing true masters at work – all of it swirled within me.

I knew, of course, that Fishman Island was dangerous and under constant threat from pirates, even if I hadn't seen them come near Waterwheel Town until now. Bitterness welled up inside me. Despite knowing how illogical it was, given my young age, I couldn't help but lament my weakness. Whether it was the lightning that had killed me in my past life or the pirates today, I was still unable to grasp my fate or the fate of my loved ones in my own hands.

For now, all I could do was wait, watch, and be ready to help in any way I could as the fate of our dojo hung in the balance.

The aftermath of the pirate attack left Waterwheel Town in a state of subdued chaos. As dawn broke over Fishman Island, casting its filtered light through the bubble surrounding our underwater home, I found myself sitting on the steps of the partially damaged dojo, watching as the cleanup efforts began.

The streets were a flurry of activity. Members of the Neptune Army patrolled in greater numbers, their presence both reassuring and a stark reminder of yesterday's events. Townspeople moved about with purpose, some clearing debris, others repairing damaged structures. The air was thick with a mixture of determination and lingering fear.

I spotted Kai helping his parents board up a broken window across the street. Our eyes met briefly, and he gave me a nod of acknowledgment. The shared experience of yesterday's battle had forged an unspoken bond between us, transcending our previous rivalry.

"Lucian," my mother's voice called from behind me. I turned to see her emerging from the dojo, her face etched with fatigue but her eyes alert. "Come, there's a meeting inside. Grandmaster Namur wants to speak with everyone."

As I followed her back into the building, I couldn't help but marvel at how quickly things had changed. Just yesterday, this hall had been a battlefield. Now, despite the visible damage, it was returning to its role as the heart of our community.

Inside, a crowd had gathered. Students of all ages, instructors, and even some town elders were present. At the center stood Grandmaster Namur, his imposing figure somehow even more remarkable after witnessing his battle prowess firsthand.

As the room fell silent, Namur began to speak, his deep voice carrying easily through the hall. "Yesterday, we faced a grave threat to our home and our way of life," he began, his eyes scanning the room. "But we stood united, and we prevailed."

His gaze fell on me for a moment, and I felt a mix of pride and unease under his scrutiny. "Even our youngest members showed remarkable courage," he continued, and I could feel the eyes of those around me turning in my direction.

"However," Namur's tone grew more serious, "this attack serves as a stark reminder of the dangers we face. The world above grows more turbulent, and we must be prepared."

As Namur outlined plans for increased security and more rigorous training, my mind raced with the implications. The relative peace I had known in my short time in this world was shattering, revealing the harsh realities that lay beneath.

I glanced around the room, taking in the determined faces of my fellow students and the grim expressions of the adults. In that moment, the resolve that i had already decided on that this life would be different steeled further. I would train harder, grow stronger, and next time, I would be ready to truly make a difference.

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After the incident, over the next year, I trained with the vigor of a madman. It's not that I hadn't been working hard before or that I had been slacking in the slightest, but the pirate attack was the wake-up call I needed. Feeling death so near me again, I realized that what I was striving for—to stand beside the likes of Roger—required more than what I had been giving. I needed to train ten times harder, even if it meant my knuckles bled and my muscles screamed in protest.

My parents watched my newfound intensity with a mixture of pride and apprehension. My mother, ever the practical instructor, would often remind me of the importance of rest and recovery. "Lucian," she'd say, her voice tinged with concern, "pushing yourself is admirable, but remember that growth also happens during rest."

My father, on the other hand, seemed to understand the fire that had been lit within me. A goat mink with a warrior's heart, he'd nod approvingly at my dedication, even as worry flickered in his eyes. "Just don't lose sight of why you're doing this, Luci'," he'd advise, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Strength isn't just about power, it's about protecting what matters."

Despite their concerns, they supported me wholeheartedly. My father would often join me for early morning runs through the coral forests, while my mother increased the intensity of our home training sessions. They pushed me, guided me, but always made sure I didn't lose myself in the pursuit of strength.

Today, however, was different. It was my birthday, and my parents had insisted on a break from training. We were heading to the Mermaid Cafe, a treat they knew I couldn't resist despite my protests about missing a day of practice.

As we walked through the Coral Hill district, the vibrant colors of our surroundings seemed especially bright. The bubble streams danced around us, carrying laughter and conversation from other Fishman Island residents enjoying their day.

"You've grown so much this past year, Lucian," my mother said, her eyes soft with pride. 

My father nodded in agreement. "Six years old today. You're becoming quite the young man."

I was about to respond when a sudden, thunderous boom echoed through the air, causing the very ground beneath our feet to shudder. We froze, exchanging alarmed glances. Another explosion followed, then another. In the distance, we could hear a cacophony of yelling coming from the direction of the main entrance to Fishman Island.

"Cannon fire," my father growled, his posture immediately shifting to a defensive stance.

My mother's eyes narrowed, her hands already moving in the familiar patterns of Fishman Karate. "Lucian, we need to get you to safety."

But I stood my ground, my heart racing not with fear, but with a mix of anticipation and determination. This was what I had been training for. "I can help," I insisted, my voice steady.

My parents shared a look, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, my father spoke, his voice grave. "Stay close to us. If we tell you to run, you run. No arguments."

I nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. As we cautiously moved towards the source of the commotion, chaos unfolded before our eyes. To say it was pandemonium would be an understatement.

Numerous massive pirate galleons had squeezed themselves into Fishman Island, flying a dozen different flags. But one constant shocked me to my core: I could see Big Mom's flag hanging on several ships as well. Was she making a move to control Fishman Island? This was far too early, decades ahead of when it was supposed to happen. Was this the butterfly effect in action, my presence altering the course of history?

As these thoughts raced through my mind, we surveyed the battlefield. The scene was eerily reminiscent of Marineford—a hell on earth, or rather, under the sea. The metallic scent of blood already soaked the ground, wafting through the water and reaching us even at this distance.

The Neptune Army, led by King Neptune himself, clashed fiercely with what appeared to be subordinate crews of Big Mom. Taking a closer look at the heart of the battle, I spotted a figure that made my blood run cold. A man wielding a behemoth of a sword was mowing down soldiers of the Neptune Army with terrifying efficiency as he headed toward the king. Even through the chaos, I recognized him as Captain Blaze of the Crimson Blade Pirates—the very crew Roger had decimated long ago.

"We need to help evacuate the civilians," my mother's voice cut through my observations, her tone urgent but controlled.

My father nodded, his eyes scanning for immediate threats. "Lucian, stay between us. We'll make our way to the residential area."

As we moved, the sounds of battle grew louder. Screams of pain and war cries filled the water, creating a cacophony of violence. We encountered panicked citizens fleeing their homes, fear etched on their faces.

"This way!" my father called out, guiding a group of folk's towards a safer route.

Suddenly, a group of pirates broke away from the main battle, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent as they spotted the fleeing civilians. Without hesitation, my parents sprang into action. My mother's Fishman Karate sent water bullets piercing through the air, while my father's electro-enhanced strikes incapacitated foes with shocking efficiency.

I found myself face to face with a pirate, time seemed to slow as I recalled my year of intense training. Fear did not find itself gripping me as my body moved on instinct, as i dodged the wild swing of the pirate easily and burst forward even helping my speed with a flap from my wings. My claws, already brandished sharp and ready, found the pirate's throat. With a swift, brutal motion, I cut through flesh and arteries like a hot knife through butter.

The pirate's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he dropped his weapon to the ground and tried to stifle the blood with his hands though nonetheless the action was pointless as he succumbed to the fatal wound and crumpled to the ground face down in a pool of his own blood. I landed on the ground and turned back to see the man i had killed, his eyes still wide open with fear and regret.

Looking down at the blood on my hands, i realized had just taken my first life but for now this wasn't the time to think on what i had done. More pirates came, and we fought on. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. My body ached, cuts and bruises accumulating as we defended the civilians and ourselves side by side with soldiers from the main army.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the battlefield. All eyes turned towards the entrance of Fishman Island. Another ship was forcing its way through, and for a moment, fear gripped everyone—was this reinforcement for the invaders?

As the ship fully entered, a collective gasp of shock rippled through friend and foe alike. Instead of just any random vessel, the iconic figurehead of the Moby Dick came into view, with a towering figure atop it—younger than I remembered from my past life's memories, but unmistakable nonetheless. Whitebeard, in all his glory, surveyed the scene before him.

His voice, powerful enough to shake the very ocean even without yelling, boomed across Fishman Island: "Neptune, my old friend I'm sorry for the delay. To make it up to you let me deal with these rats infesting your home. "

With those words, Whitebeard leapt from his ship, bisento already in hand, speeding towards the ground like a meteor. A circular, almost transparent light began to shine around his foot—a manifestation of his Quake-Quake Fruit abilities. As he crashed into the ground, the true power of his fruit was unleashed. The sheer impact sent seismic shockwaves through the ground and air, dealing catastrophic damage to the pirates. Even those far from the epicenter, like me and my parents, struggled against the force, fighting not to be thrown back.

Instantly, the tide of battle shifted, hope rekindled among the defenders of Fishman Island even though Whitebeard was a pirate his long time friendship with Neptune was known to the citizens. 

As I watched this legend in action, it became apparent how much the sickness that would eventually ravage his body had already reduced his strength by the time of Marineford. Luckily for us, that time wasn't here yet. Even in his old age, this monster in humans clothing was not one to be trifled with.

Whitebeard's arrival had immediately turned the tide. His sheer presence and power breathed new life into the defenders of Fishman Island. The pirates, once confident, now faltered under the weight of his assault. The shockwaves from his Quake-Quake Fruit rippled through the battlefield, shattering their formations and throwing them into disarray.

The defenders of Fishman Island rallied, their spirits lifted by the unexpected arrival of their legendary savior. Neptune took advantage of the vulnerability of the pirate crews his army spearing forward.

The pirates, reeling from Whitebeard's assault, struggled to regroup with the pincer attack from both side. Their initial shock was just the beginning of their troubles. The true test was yet to come.

Whitebeard's crew, battle-hardened and fiercely loyal, surged into the fray with the albeit younger version but still powerful commanders leading them Marco already in his phoenix form being at the forefront. Their presence was a beacon for the defenders, inspiring them to push back with everything they had.

In the midst of this pivotal moment, it was clear that the defense of Fishman Island had shifted from a desperate fight for survival to a inevitable slaughter of the attackers as hope was rekindled.

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Authors Note: 

Sorry for the late chapter today been pretty busy lately anyway thanks for reading the chapter :) If you have any thoughts/criticisms you'd like to share or ideas for the story be it ideas for powers/techniques, characters, plot points or anything else let me know in the comments, ill try to get to them. Also for any if interested this is Crossposted on webnovel, scribblehub, AO3 and fanfiction.net though webnovel is the one i mainly use and have in mind. ill try to post images for characters or gifs for techniques on the sites that will let me. Anyway Bye!

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