Capítulo 2: 2. Thirty Against One
'Ugh, when is this ship finally going to dock? My hands are itching,' Noir thought as he finished his exercises, his eyes fixed on Ihwa as she mimicked his training routines.
Thanks to the trait embedded in his blood—passed down through the Yamazaki lineage—Noir often felt an almost primal urge to break through the prison door, climb to the deck, and start brawling with the pirates. He couldn't tell if this compulsion was part of his inherited nature or simply a remnant of his younger days when picking fights and ending up battered and bruised was just another day at school.
Every time he imagined a fight in his head, he would always picture himself on the brink of losing, pushed to the edge and badly injured. Yet somehow, the thought excited him. The more he envisioned it, the stronger his yearning to fight grew, so much so that he began wishing one of the pirates would open the cell door just so he could have an excuse to unleash himself.
His physical condition had improved considerably, thanks to the scraps of food they were given. The body he inhabited, once emaciated and malnourished, had slowly begun to fill out. Lean muscle replaced the hollowness, evidence of the relentless training Noir put himself through. It amazed him how quickly his body adapted. Back in his original world, achieving this kind of transformation would have taken at least three weeks. Here, it had taken less than two.
Ihwa, too, was making noticeable progress. Her previously gaunt figure was slowly developing shape, especially around her chest. Though Noir's physical growth was far more rapid—he hadn't yet explored martial arts because he deemed his current strength insufficient—he couldn't help but acknowledge the remarkable adaptability Ihwa displayed.
Her potential, though slightly lower than Noir's, allowed her to evolve at a pace that surprised even him. If she had been born a man, Noir suspected her potential might rival—or even surpass—his own.
After Ihwa finished her physical training, Noir instructed her to push herself to the limit until her body could no longer continue. She eventually stumbled over to him, utterly drained. Without hesitation, she collapsed onto Noir's lap, leaning against him as he exhaled a deep sigh and began stroking her hair gently.
"There's no point in telling you off anymore," Noir muttered in resignation. He had given up scolding Ihwa for doing things like this, especially since her current outfit—one of his tattered shirts—left her appearance more revealing than she likely realized.
"Well, I'm glad you understand," Ihwa replied, her speech slightly broken but showing improvement. She had grown attached to Noir in ways he hadn't fully anticipated. Noir was all she had, and her gratitude for the normalcy he showed her was palpable.
Since childhood, Ihwa had been ostracized due to her unusual hair and eye color, leaving her without friends or family. Captured at a young age, she had endured years as a slave until meeting Noir, who treated her like a human being.
Several times, Ihwa had attempted to serve Noir in ways she had been conditioned to, only to be rebuffed. With time, she began to relearn what it meant to live, though one thought had lingered in her mind since meeting Noir: a story she had once overheard from another slave about a kind of bond between men and women.
Though Ihwa was sure Noir could attract more than one woman, she didn't mind. As long as she could remain by his side, nothing else mattered.
"It seems we've finally arrived," Noir said, breaking her thoughts. He gently shifted Ihwa off his lap and stretched his limbs, his gaze fixed toward the deck. No longer adrift in the middle of the ocean, Noir could barely contain his pent-up excitement.
As predicted, the anchor had dropped, and the pirate ship had reached a remote island surrounded by dense forest. The place appeared abandoned, with no signs of inhabitants. However, Noir noticed another ship docked on the far side of the island, its black flag bearing a distinct crest.
'The Black Market,' Noir thought grimly.
This was one of their branch outposts, hidden far from civilization. Noir knew that such places served as meeting points for pirate crews and black market operators. While East Blue's main hub for illegal activity was Loguetown, the rise of Marine Captain Smoker had forced the market's factions to retreat into secrecy.
Noir, having stretched sufficiently, turned his attention forward as the sound of footsteps drew closer. One of the pirates—the same one who had thrown Ihwa into the cell days ago—appeared.
"Well, look at that. Seems someone's itching to start their new life as a slave," the man sneered, unlocking the cell door with a mocking grin. The pirate's arrogance was palpable as he swung the door wide open, confident that neither Noir nor Ihwa posed any threat.
But by the time the pirate realized his mistake, it was too late.
Noir charged forward, his hand clamping down on the pirate's face before slamming it into the wooden wall. The force splintered the wood and left the man stunned. Noir tightened his grip, lowering his voice into a menacing growl.
"Live as a slave?" Noir spat, his tone cold and venomous. His fingers dug deeper into the man's flesh, making the pirate squirm in pain. "How about you worry about surviving first, scum?"
With a burst of strength, Noir hurled the pirate to the side. The man's neck twisted unnaturally, and blood sprayed across the floor as his lifeless body collapsed in a heap.
Noir exhaled deeply, his body surging with adrenaline. He had prepared for this moment since the first day he'd arrived on the ship. Though his potential was immense, it was impossible to achieve full strength in just two weeks.
Still, Noir had focused on two key aspects of combat. First, he had trained his fists relentlessly, using knuckle push-ups to condition his hands into solid weapons. Second, he had fortified his grip strength, drawing inspiration from a manhwa he'd read before his death—Lookism. He had learned that a powerful grip could end battles before they even began.
"Ahhh, this feels like the good old days," Noir murmured to himself, feeling as though he had returned to his high school years. Back then, trouble seemed to follow him everywhere. Every day ended the same—with his school uniform dirtied and torn from yet another fight. But after graduating, he had decided to turn over a new leaf. He forced himself to avoid trouble, burying himself in work to earn a living. The grind never ended, and the stress piled up until he felt like he was suffocating. After all, in that world, money was everything, and corrupt bastards seemed to rule it, making life even harder for those already struggling.
But now, things were different. He wasn't chasing anything. No grand goals, no lofty ambitions. The illegal in his old world was perfectly acceptable here, and strength was a currency of its own.
He no longer had to work himself to death for scraps, treated like a cog in an uncaring machine. Here, he was free.
"It's been a while since I had fun," Noir muttered, a sly grin tugging at his lips as his gaze fixed on the door ahead. Beyond it lay a fight against dozens of pirates and their captain, whose strength was far beyond normal. The odds weren't in his favor—truthfully, the chances of his death were much higher than any hope of victory.
But Noir didn't care. The thought of a battle that would push him to the brink, where survival hung by a thread, made his blood boil with excitement.
"Oi, Ihwa," Noir said coldly, not even glancing back, "don't interfere. I hate it when people try to help me during a fight."
Ihwa, who had been silent, only nodded in response. She had seen it clearly—his face lit up with anticipation, as if he had been waiting for a moment like this his entire life. She knew better than to argue. The best choice now was to stay out of his way.
'I need to find the other women they plan to sell,' Ihwa thought as she slipped quietly out of the cell. 'Then, we'll hide somewhere safe.'
Meanwhile, Noir stepped through the door.
The lively chatter and raucous laughter that had filled the deck fell silent in an instant. The pirates stared at him, their eyes widening in disbelief.
He stood there, his frame thin but upright, his body in far better condition than when they had first captured him. But the most striking detail was the blood staining his right hand—and the absence of shackles.
Noir grinned. The silence was deafening.
"Where's that idiot who opened the cell?" one of the pirates demanded.
"Oh, the bald one?" Noir replied, his grin widening. "He's dead."
Shock rippled through the group. They had underestimated Noir, assuming he would waste away in despair. Giving him scraps of food had been their mistake.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that. But there's thirty of us and one of you," said another pirate, smirking as he drew closer.
He didn't finish his sentence. Noir's hand moved faster than the pirate could react, driving a knife straight into his throat.
"You talk too much," Noir said, yanking the blade free. He turned to the remaining pirates, his dark eyes gleaming.
"So, when does the fun start?"
"Kill him" said the Captain who had just come out of the room, he had a muscular body and was also very tall, he had several wounds but the most striking one was on his chest, he witnessed the whole incident and he knew that there was no point in letting Noir live.
"But Captain, the slaves.."
"Only one less, besides with four slaves, we already got a lot of money" said the pirate Captain before he got off the ship and walked towards the empty headquarters that was used as a meeting place, meanwhile Noir had time to see his status and it made his blood boil.
[Name: Gary]
[Age: 31]
[Title: Iron Fist]
[Race: Human]
[Devil Fruit: -]
[Potential: E+] [Awakened]
[Strength: SS]
[Endurance: SS+]
[Durability: SS]
[Speed: S+]
[Intelligence: C+]
[Luck: D-]
[Bounty: 2,216,000 Belly]
'Hoo, looks like this is going to be very interesting' thought Noir while cracking his neck, he then looked at the group of pirates who were now standing in front of him, because they had received the order, all of them immediately gave off quite a killing intent for Noir.
The air crackled with tension as Noir squared off against the 30 pirates, each armed and ready to kill. Pistols gleamed under the dim lantern light, blades reflected the faint moonlight filtering through the ship's rigging, and fists clenched with brutal intent. Yet, Noir only grinned. His blood pumped with excitement, the anticipation of battle overriding the rational fear of death.
"Thirty against one," Noir muttered, rolling his shoulders as if he were about to warm up. "Fair odds, I'd say."
The first pirate lunged—a burly man brandishing a chipped cutlass. He roared as he swung, aiming for Noir's chest. Noir didn't move until the last second, sidestepping just enough for the blade to miss. He grabbed the pirate's wrist, twisting it violently. A sickening crack echoed, and the pirate screamed as his wrist broke.
Before the pirate could recover, Noir pulled him closer, delivering a savage headbutt. The sound of bone meeting bone reverberated as the pirate crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Blood trickled from Noir's forehead, but his grin only widened.
"One down," he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. "Who's next?"
The remaining pirates hesitated for a split second. Their hesitation turned into rage as two of them charged simultaneously, one wielding a pistol and the other a dagger. Noir saw the pistol being raised and moved before the shot could fire. He dashed forward, grabbing the gunman's arm and pointing the weapon upward. The shot rang out, the bullet harmlessly piercing the wooden ceiling.
"Nice try," Noir snarled, wrenching the pistol free and smashing it into the man's jaw. Teeth flew as the pirate collapsed in a heap. Noir spun just in time to catch the dagger-wielding pirate lunging at him. He sidestepped, grabbed the man's arm, and used his momentum to drive the blade into his own neck.
Blood sprayed, staining the floorboards, but Noir didn't even glance at the body as it fell.
"Three down," he said with mock boredom, turning to face the remaining 27.
Realizing that one-on-one attacks were futile, the pirates attacked as a group. Noir was surrounded in seconds. A blade slashed toward his neck from behind, but Noir ducked, letting the sword swing harmlessly overhead. A punch aimed at his ribs connected, sending a dull ache through his side, but Noir barely reacted. Instead, he grabbed the wrist of the man who punched him and twisted, throwing him into another pirate wielding an axe.
"Good hit," Noir said, his voice tinged with amusement. "But you'll need to do better."
A pirate with a spiked mace rushed in from Noir's left, swinging the heavy weapon toward his head. Noir raised his forearm to block, the mace connecting with his Black Bone-reinforced bones. The force of the impact reverberated through his arm, but the spikes failed to pierce his skin. Noir grabbed the weapon's handle, yanked it free from its owner, and swung it in a wide arc. Three pirates were sent flying, their bodies crashing against the walls of the ship with bone-shattering force.
"Now this is fun," Noir said, his grin widening. His eyes burned with a manic light as if he were feeding off the chaos. "Come on! I'm just getting started!"
Noir's strategy was simple: overwhelm with brute force. His punches crushed ribs, his knees shattered noses, and his kicks sent pirates flying into the wooden beams with enough force to leave splinters in their flesh. But as strong as Noir was, the pirates' sheer numbers began to wear him down.
A sword grazed his shoulder, leaving a deep gash. A bullet scraped his thigh, drawing blood. Noir ignored the pain, his adrenaline surging with each injury.
"Yes!" he roared, blood dripping down his face and body. His grin turned feral, his teeth bared like a predator. "This is what I've been waiting for! A real fight!"
The pirates exchanged nervous glances. They had fought countless battles before, but this man—no, this monster—was unlike anything they had faced. Even as he bled, even as his body was battered, he seemed to grow stronger, his movements faster, his strikes harder.
A pirate lunged with a saber, aiming for Noir's heart. Instead of dodging, Noir grabbed the blade with his bare hand. Blood dripped from his palm as the edge bit into his flesh, but Noir didn't flinch. He yanked the sword away and drove his knee into the pirate's gut, knocking him unconscious.
"You guys are pathetic," Noir sneered, tossing the saber aside. "Is this really the best you've got?"
Another pirate swung a club at Noir's head, but Noir ducked, grabbing the man's arm and pulling him forward into a brutal headbutt. The pirate's nose exploded in a spray of blood as he collapsed.
More pirates rushed in, desperation driving them. One tackled Noir from behind, pinning his arms. Another aimed a punch at his stomach. The blow connected, forcing Noir to grunt, but he responded by stomping on the foot of the man holding him. The pirate yelped and released his grip, allowing Noir to twist around and deliver a devastating elbow to his temple.
"Nice try," Noir said, panting slightly. His body ached, his muscles screamed, but his grin never faltered. If anything, the pain seemed to fuel him.
The deck was littered with groaning bodies, but a few pirates remained standing. Noir's movements were slower now, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood dripped from countless cuts and bruises, but his eyes burned with an unrelenting fire.
"You still want to fight?" Noir asked, cracking his neck. "Good. I was just getting bored."
The last group of pirates hesitated, fear evident in their eyes. But their loyalty to their captain—or perhaps their fear of him—pushed them forward.
Noir met them head-on. He caught a fist aimed at his face, twisting the arm until it broke. He dodged a knife thrust and countered with a punch to the solar plexus, sending the pirate sprawling. A sword slashed toward his chest, but Noir sidestepped, grabbing the attacker's wrist and disarming him before delivering a brutal kick to his ribs.
Finally, the last pirate stood before him, trembling. Noir tilted his head, his bloodied face splitting into a grin.
"Run," he said simply. The pirate didn't need to be told twice. He dropped his weapon and fled, disappearing into the shadows of the ship.
Noir stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The deck was silent, save for the groans of the defeated pirates. Blood dripped from his wounds, pooling at his feet.
Then, a slow, mocking clap echoed across the deck. Noir turned, his eyes narrowing as a tall figure stepped forward. The man wore a black coat adorned with silver spikes, and his hands were covered in steel gauntlets lined with sharp studs. His aura radiated danger.
"Impressive," the man said, his voice deep and gravelly. "You took down thirty of my men. But let's see how you fare against me."
Noir's grin returned, blood staining his teeth.
"Finally," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "A real challenge."
[POV: Ihwa]
I ran through the dimly lit corridors of the ship, my bare feet silent against the damp, creaking wood. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and urgency, but I didn't dare slow down. The echoes of distant screams and the deafening clash of steel filled the air above deck—Noir's battle had already begun.
Find them. Get them out. That's all I need to do.
The thought repeated over and over in my mind, a fragile tether keeping me focused. I wasn't doing this for them. Not really. I was doing this because Noir told me to. I couldn't interfere with his fight, so this was all I could do to repay him—for saving me, for treating me like a human being when I had forgotten how to be one.
But deep down, I knew that wasn't the whole truth.
The way my chest tightened every time I thought about him. The way my mind spiraled with the worst possibilities. Why did I care? Why did it feel like if something happened to him, I would shatter? It made no sense. I had spent years feeling nothing—cold, detached, numb. That's what survival demanded.
But then he came along.
"Damn it, Noir," I muttered under my breath. "If you die, I'll never forgive you."
Noir was the only person who had ever shown me kindness, and now I was terrified of losing him. If I failed to get those women out, if I let them be dragged into the same nightmare I'd barely escaped, what would he think of me?
My bare feet pressed silently against the cold, damp wood of the ship. The flickering lanterns above cast long, shifting shadows across the corridor. The smell of salt, sweat, and something far fouler filled the air. I knew I was close.
It didn't take long to find them.
The room was dark, the heavy door left slightly ajar. A faint, putrid stench seeped out, a mixture of filth, sweat, and semen. My stomach turned, but I forced myself to step inside.
There they were.
Three women, huddled on the floor, their bodies lifeless poses. Their skin was pallid, marred by bruises and cuts. their naked bodies streaked with filth and semen. I saw the mark on their backs immediately—the same brand burned into my own skin.
The symbol of the Tenryūbito.
My chest tightened, memories I thought I had buried clawing their way back to the surface. The heat of the iron branding rod, the searing pain, the smell of my own flesh burning. The sound of laughter.
I forced the memories down. Now wasn't the time.
Stepping closer, I knelt beside the nearest woman. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, unfocused. She wasn't dead—her shallow breaths confirmed that—but she might as well have been. Her spirit was gone, buried somewhere far beyond my reach.
"Hey," I said softly, shaking her shoulder. Her skin was cold, clammy. "Wake up. You can't stay here."
She didn't respond. Not a blink, not a twitch. Nothing.
I moved to the second woman, then the third, shaking each of them, whispering words I wasn't even sure they could hear. "Please. You have to get up. You can't stay like this."
Still nothing.
Frustration welled up inside me, but I bit it back. Anger wouldn't help. They were just like me. Broken. Empty. Once, I had been the same—no will, no reason to live, just a shell waiting to be used and discarded.
I had survived because Noir had dragged me out of that void, forcing me to see myself as something more. Now it was my turn to do the same for them.
"You're alive," I whispered, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "That's all that matters right now. If you're alive, you can still fight."
The first woman blinked. Slowly. Barely. But it was enough.
"That's it," I said, seizing the tiny spark of life in her eyes. "You're not done yet."
I slipped my arm under her shoulder, hoisting her up as gently as I could. She was light—too light. Her head lolled against me, her body limp, but she didn't resist.
Turning to the other two, I crouched low and whispered urgently. "Come on. Help me. We need to get out of here."
One of them stirred, her fingers twitching faintly. I grabbed her hand, pulling her toward me. "That's it. Just a little more."
It took what felt like an eternity, but eventually, all three women were on their feet—or as close to it as they could manage. They leaned against me heavily, their weight almost too much for my frail body to bear. But I didn't care.
I wasn't going to leave them behind.
"This way," I said, half-dragging, half-carrying them toward the far side of the room. The ship's hull groaned around us, the sound of battle above growing louder. We didn't have much time.
I found a weak spot in the wooden wall, near the edge of the ship where the waterline met the hull. Grabbing a discarded piece of metal, I began hammering at the planks, my muscles burning with each strike.
"Almost there," I muttered, more to myself than to them.
The wood finally gave way, a jagged hole opening to the outside. Cool night air rushed in, mingling with the stench of the room.
"Go," I said, turning to the women. They didn't move.
"Please," I begged, my voice breaking. "You have to go. I'll help you."
One by one, I pushed them through the hole. They dropped into the water with soft splashes, their bodies weak but moving.
Finally, I slipped through the opening myself, the cold water shocking my senses. I swam to shore, dragging the women behind me, each stroke an agonizing effort.
When we finally reached the beach, I collapsed onto the sand, gasping for air. The women lay beside me, too exhausted to do anything but breathe.
Then I heard it.
The clash of steel. The thud of bodies hitting the ground. The roars of men locked in combat.
I looked up, my heart sinking as I saw him.
Noir stood on the deck of the ship, blood dripping from countless wounds, his body battered and bruised. Yet he didn't falter. His movements were wild, almost animalistic, each strike sending his opponents sprawling.
He was fighting a giant of a man now, someone I could only assume was the captain. The man's gauntleted fists swung with terrifying power, each blow shaking the deck.
"Noir…" I whispered, my voice trembling.
I wanted to run to him, to scream at him to stop. But I knew better. He wouldn't listen. This was who he was.
Instead, I turned to the women, dragging them into the cover of the trees.
As we crouched in the shadows, I watched the battle unfold. For the first time in years, tears slipped down my cheeks.
Not for me.
For him.
Status de energia semanal
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