The night blanketed the island in a soft hush. Torches flickered across the cliff walls, their flames swaying gently with the sea breeze. The sound of waves lapping against the rocks blended with distant laughter from Whitebeard's men celebrating the day's battles.
Near the edge of the cliff, on a flat stone slab overlooking the dark ocean, Gunnar and Smoothie sat side by side, a small fire crackling in front of them. Skewers of roasted meat rested on a wooden plate between them, the scent rich and smoky.
Gunnar tore into a piece, his voice muffled as he spoke with his mouth half-full.
"Mmm. This is good. You seasoned this?"
Smoothie, seated with one leg tucked beneath the other, held her skewer delicately. She shook her head slightly.
"No. Just flame. Simple."
They sat in silence for a few moments. The firelight danced across their faces. Smoothie's silver hair caught the glow like moonlight. Gunnar leaned back on one arm, chewing slowly, eyes narrowing just a little.
"You didn't fight today."
Smoothie didn't respond at first. Her gaze remained fixed on the fire. He waited, then asked again—softer this time.
"You didn't join any team, Smoothie. Why?"
She shrugged.
"No reason. I just… didn't feel like it."
He tilted his head, watching her with a calm, persistent stare.
"That's not like you."
She didn't answer. The silence stretched.
Gunnar leaned forward, setting down his empty skewer. His voice lowered, serious now.
"You're strong. One of the strongest. The Smoothie I know wouldn't just sit out a good fight. Something's wrong, isn't it?"
Smoothie's fingers tightened around her skewer. Her shoulders dropped the slightest bit. When she finally looked at him, her eyes had a flicker of something different—vulnerability.
"...It's nothing."
"Don't do that," Gunnar said gently. "Not with me."
Smoothie turned away, gazing out at the ocean. The fire crackled softly between them.
"I guess…" she started slowly, "..."
She paused, the breeze lifting strands of her hair.
Gunnar didn't speak immediately. He just looked at her.
Then he shifted closer, placing a warm hand on hers.
He leaned in.
"I get it."
And then, without another word, he kissed her—softly, tenderly. The sea wind tugged at their hair, and the fire crackled low beside them.
When he pulled back, he touched his forehead to hers and smiled faintly.
"You tell me when you want to talk. Or not. I'll still be here. I'm not going anywhere, Smoothie."
She looked at him for a long moment—eyes full of something quieter than love, but deeper than comfort. Something earned.
Then, finally, she whispered:
"Okay."
And they sat together beneath the stars, the fire between them glowing low and warm.
---
The sun climbed high above the island, casting golden rays over the battlefield carved into the heart of the land—a vast open plateau bordered by sheer cliffs and lush jungle. The ground trembled slightly with the buzz of energy radiating from the Whitebeard Pirates gathered on every side. Excitement coursed through the air like wildfire.
The Final Match.
Two squads stood on opposite sides of the field, separated by only a breath of space and the rising tension between them.
On the left — standing with calm composure, Marco the Phoenix, his flaming wings briefly flickering as he cracked his knuckles with a confident smirk. Beside him, two fearsome commanders: Rakuyo, spinning his massive chain ball casually like it was a toy, and Fossa, chewing a cigar as he rested his hand lazily on the hilt of his blazing sword.
On the right — Gunnar, standing tall and solid as stone, the molten glow of lava humming beneath the skin of his right arm, a soft frost mist trailing from his left. Beside him, the weathered steel presence of Isshin, his katana glinting in the sun, and Ace, arms folded, grinning with fire dancing in his freckled face.
The crowd roared from the cliffs.
"WOOOOO!!"
"LET'S GOOO, MARCOOOO!"
"That bird's gonna roast 'em alive!"
"Put your money on Gunnar, you fools! Lava and quake?! He's a walking disaster!"
"Isshin gonna slice someone clean in half, I swear!"
On a raised stone platform between the squads stood Smoothie, elegant in her poise, yet commanding with a single look. The sun lit her silver hair like a blade of moonlight.
She raised her hand. A hush fell.
"This is the final match before the championship," Smoothie announced. "The rules are simple. This is an all-out elimination match. A squad is eliminated when all three of its members are either knocked out or surrender. No resets. No restarts."
Cheers erupted again.
"Use any power at your disposal. This is a test of not just strength… but of unity."
She looked between the teams.
"Are you ready?"
Marco rolled his shoulders, eyes glowing faintly with blue flame.
"Born ready, Smoothie."
Gunnar cracked his neck to the side, smirking.
"Let's give the old man a good show."
At the edge of the arena, Whitebeard let out a booming laugh, shaking the very air.
"Gurararara! This is what I like to see! Let the best team win!"
He turned to the nearest sons with his ever-present grin.
"My boys are going all out today."
Blenheim, guffawing beside him:
"There's no way Marco loses. The guy's immortal!"
Namur, raising an eyebrow:
"Don't count out Gunnar. That kid's something else." Izo, elegant and precise, adjusted his rifle. "Honestly… this might tear the damn island in half."
As bets flew back and forth, Smoothie raised her hand one last time.
"BEGIN."
And just like that—
Boom.
Ace launched first, a trail of fire blazing behind him. Gunnar surged forward, ice forming under his feet as lava bloomed on his arms. Isshin walked, calm and menacing, drawing his katana with a smooth metallic whisper.
Marco met them in the air, wings flaring wide, blue fire bursting like a meteor. Rakuyo hurled his chain, whipping it toward Gunnar, while Fossa's blade ignited in a wave of fire, slashing at Ace.
The final match had begun.
---
The instant Smoothie's voice echoed across the island—
BEGIN! —Marco vanished in a burst of sapphire flame.
"Too slow," he muttered mid-air.
Before anyone could react, Marco slammed a flaming heel into Ace's chest, sending him flying back with a boom, crashing through two thick jungle trees before he hit the ground, coughing smoke.
WHAM!
Isshin turned with barely a second to brace when a fiery talon smashed into his shoulder, launching him into a rock outcrop, cracking the stone with the force.
Gunnar narrowed his eyes.
"Tch… bird's got hops."
Marco smirked as he spun in mid-air, wings blazing like phoenix wings of wrath, and blitzed toward Gunnar.
"Think fast."
BOOOOM!!
Lava met blue fire. The impact scorched the earth, steam hissing violently as magma clashed with mythical flames. Gunnar slid back several feet, boots dragging a furrow through the ground, but he stood his ground—just barely.
He looked up at Marco, heat rising off him.
"Alright. You want to fly?"
"Let's fly."
Gunnar leapt, ice spreading underfoot to give him lift, and shot skyward like a cannonball. He swung a lava-coated fist, but Marco danced around it mid-air with graceful ease, retaliating with a phoenix wing slash across Gunnar's back.
CRASH!!
Gunnar landed hard, skidding across the battlefield and planting a hand into the soil to stabilize.
"DAMN," Ace coughed from the jungle, sitting up. "That bird just drop-kicked me into next week."
Isshin was already brushing dust off his armor, emerging from cracked stone, not a scratch visible.
"That was a warm-up."
"Focus," Gunnar muttered, standing again. "This is Marco we're talking about. Mythical Zoan. Regenerates faster than I burn calories."
Ace lit his fists, fire whipping around him.
"So what's the play?"
Rakuyo and Fossa now advanced from behind Marco. Rakuyo spun his heavy chain.
"I'll handle swordsman." He pointed at Isshin.
Fossa's cigar glowed red-hot."I'll take care of freckles."
WHOOOSH—Battle reignited.
---
The steel chain snapped like a thunderclap, coming for Isshin's neck. But the master swordsman—stone calm—sidestepped at the last moment, letting the chain wrap around a tree.
Isshin exhaled.
"You have power. But no rhythm."
He stepped forward like an executioner. One slash—clean, precise—sliced through the tree and nearly caught Rakuyo's shoulder. The chain master barely dodged, sweat forming on his brow.
"Damn swordsman... you're like death in slow motion."
Isshin didn't reply. He stepped again.
---
Flames clashed with fire as Ace ducked under a flaming blade.
"Hey! Since when did we have a hotter guy with a sword than me?"
Fossa grinned, blade flaming red.
"Since forever, kid."
They collided in a whirl of heat, exchanging fire in bursts. Trees around them began to burn from the sheer pressure.
Ace flipped backward, sending a column of flame into the air, while Fossa slashed vertically, cutting fire in half with his blade.
---
Mid-air once again. Marco dove, claws blazing.
Gunnar gritted his teeth and raised both arms, lava swirling into a gauntlet on the right, ice forming jagged armor on the left. The two clashed—
BOOOM!!!
Crater formed under their feet as Gunnar punched the earth, sending a shockwave of Gura Gura power outward.
Marco was flung back momentarily, but he flipped, regenerating instantly in mid-air, smiling.
"You're really trying to one-up me, huh?"
Gunnar cracked his neck.
"Nah. Just returning the favor."
---
Whitebeard, watching from the cliffs, burst into laughter.
"Gurararara! That Marco! Took all three of 'em on like they were kids."
Izo whistled.
"He launched them like volleyballs."
Namur nodded.
"But look—look at that. Gunnar's standing again."
Whitebeard's eyes gleamed.
"My sons… they're monsters."
---
Smoothie, standing as the ref, her eyes sharp, watched closely as both squads now regrouped slightly, injuries taken, but fire in their eyes.
Ace wiped blood from his lip.
"Okay. Let's not get kicked into trees again."
Isshin nodded calmly.
"Agreed."
Gunnar breathed heavily, a grin curling at the edge of his mouth.
"Now, let's show them what we really are."
It was just getting started.