One Piece: Bloody Devil

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The room remained still, suffocated under the weight of Vice Admiral Hiroto Miyazaki's presence.

Asiro felt it pressing down on him... an invisible force, something beyond just rank. The Vice Admiral didn't need to speak to command attention. His sharp, dark eyes were enough.

The silence stretched.

"Name."

The single word cut through the air like a blade. Hiroto's voice was calm, low, and precise, yet it carried undeniable authority.

Asiro met his gaze, his own expression impassive. He could feel the tightness in his throat, the rough dryness left from days of unconsciousness, but he forced his voice to work.

"Asiro Ashford."

His own name felt foreign leaving his lips. And he hated how weak his voice sounded.

Hiroto's expression didn't change. His gloved hands remained relaxed at his sides, his posture straight but unthreatening.

"Age."

"Fourteen."

Again, no reaction. No flicker of surprise or judgment.

"Home."

Asiro hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. He could still see the burning village behind his eyes, hear the distant screams buried beneath the ringing silence in his head. His mother's voice, the warmth of her healing touch.

He swallowed the bitterness that rose in his throat. "Rose village from Lotus kingdom."

Hiroto didn't blink. His unreadable gaze stayed locked onto Asiro, the weight of his scrutiny never lifting.

Behind him, Rear Admiral Kiyomi stood motionless. She hadn't spoken, hadn't moved. But Asiro could feel her presence as keenly as the Vice Admiral's. She was watching, studying, waiting... like a blade in its sheath, prepared to strike if necessary.

He didn't know what answer they were expecting from him. Did they already know what had happened?

The Vice Admiral spoke again.

"How did you survive?"

A simple question. But there was nothing simple about it.

Asiro's jaw tightened. He could still feel the warmth of his mother's hands pressed against his skin, the fading remnants of her Devil Fruit power as she had poured the last of her life into saving his. The memory was sharp.

"I don't know," he lied. His voice was steady now, cold and even. "I woke up here."

For the first time, Hiroto's gaze flickered. Just for a second... so fast that if Asiro hadn't been watching so closely, he might have missed it.

But he had seen it.

The Vice Admiral knew something.

Asiro held his breath as the silence stretched once more, his body tense despite his exhaustion.

Then, Hiroto finally spoke.

"I see."

Nothing more. No accusation, no disbelief... just those two words, unreadable and final.

The tension in the room did not ease. If anything, it grew heavier.

Vice Admiral Hiroto Miyazaki reached into the folds of his coat, pulling out a neatly folded newspaper. The paper was slightly crumpled at the edges, worn from travel. Without a word, he extended it toward Asiro.

Asiro hesitated for only a second before taking it. The weight of it in his hands felt heavier than it should have been. He unfolded it slowly, his sharp blue-gray eyes locking onto the bold, black letters of the headline.

"The Demon King Declares War – New World In Ruins"

His breath caught in his throat.

His grip on the paper tightened as his gaze swept over the words, trying to make sense of them. But the more he read, the colder his body became.

Marine bases... wiped out. The Navy's strongholds in the New World, places thought to be impenetrable, reduced to ash. Fleet Admiral's command... silent. No reinforcements. No counterattack.

Nothing but destruction.

It wasn't just an attack. It was a massacre.

The details spilled down the page in brutal, unfeeling text:

Navy Bases in the New World overrun. Entire battalions annihilated.

Vice Admirals executed on sight.

The Demon King's forces sweeping across the seas, crushing any resistance.

Whole islands... burned. Cities... emptied. The World collapsing into chaos.

Asiro's pulse pounded in his ears.

His own village… his mother… the flames…

It was never just about them.

He had thought... no, he had wanted to believe... that what happened to him had been something personal. That there had been a reason for it. But it was just another casualty, another footnote in a war far larger than himself.

His fingers curled against the paper, threatening to tear it apart.

A shadow moved in his peripheral vision. Hiroto was still watching him, unreadable as ever. Kiyomi stood beside him, silent and still, her sharp amber eyes flicking between Asiro and the newspaper.

A thousand emotions swirled in Asiro's chest, but he forced them down, suppressing the fire burning beneath his skin.

"This happened… the same day," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't phrase it as a question. He didn't need to.

Hiroto inclined his head slightly. "Yes."

Asiro exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes flicking back to the article. The words swam in his vision, but he forced himself to read on.

The Demon King... the man responsible... wasn't named in the article. There was no need. His rise to power had been slow but inevitable, his conquests methodical, his presence growing like a storm on the horizon until it was too late.

And now, the Navy... the strongest force of order in the world... was on its knees.

Asiro sat motionless, the newspaper still in his grip, his fingers curled so tightly that the edges crumpled under the pressure. His jaw clenched, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Powerless.

That was the truth laid bare before him.

He lifted his gaze, letting the weight of his own thoughts solidify into something unbreakable.

Then, he asked the one question that mattered.

"How can I get power?"

The words cut through the air like a blade.

The Vice Admiral studied Asiro in silence. The room felt colder, the space between them narrowing despite neither of them moving.

Then, Hiroto spoke. "Why do you want power?"

Asiro's fingers uncurled from the newspaper, but his voice remained steady. "Because without it, I'm nothing."

He didn't blink. Didn't waver.

Hiroto's gaze remained locked onto his, as if measuring the weight of his words. "Power isn't given. It's taken. It's earned."

"Then I'll take it," Asiro said, his voice sharp.

Another beat of silence.

Then, Hiroto's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smirk but held the weight of understanding. "Good answer."

Kiyomi's expression shifted slightly... approval, maybe, or something else hidden beneath her disciplined exterior.

"If you want power, join the Marines."

Asiro's breath slowed. He had expected the answer, but hearing it aloud made it real.

The Marines. The very force that had failed to protect his home. The organization that had lost its grip on the world.

But at the same time...

Strength.

The Marines controlled the seas. Their strongest shaped the fate of the world.

If he joined, if he climbed high enough, there would be no one stronger than him. No one who could take anything from him again.

He inhaled.

Then, he made his choice.

"I accept."

Hiroto nodded, as if he had expected nothing less.

The room was heavy with silence. The weight of Asiro's decision still lingered in the air, his acceptance of Hiroto's offer sealing his fate. But the Vice Admiral wasn't finished.

Hiroto studied him, then spoke.

"There are two ways to gain power in the Marines," he said, his voice even. "You have a choice."

Asiro remained still, waiting.

Hiroto lifted two fingers. "The first path: structured training at a Marine base. Discipline. Tactics. Combat drills under strict supervision. It's a slow, methodical way to build strength, but it creates a soldier with solid fundamentals."

A Marine base. The idea settled in Asiro's mind, cold and calculated. A stable environment. Rigorous training under elite instructors. But slow results. Could he afford to wait?

Hiroto lowered one finger. "The second path: training at sea. No structure. No safety. You learn by surviving. By fighting. You'll face real threats, real battles, and grow as fast as your will allows. But the risk is higher. You could die before you see your strength manifest."

The words hung in the air like a blade poised to drop.

Asiro closed his eyes briefly, thinking.

Two paths. Two futures.

The Marine base would forge discipline and strategy. But he'd be contained. Caged. Forced to move at the Navy's pace. Every day, watching others shape his strength, while he waited for power to come.

The sea, though... it was lawless. Brutal. It would sharpen him like a whetstone grinds a blade. The weak would be crushed, and only the strong would endure.

But if he wasn't strong enough yet… if he wasn't ready…

His fingers twitched. He hated that thought.

Hiroto's dark eyes studied him, but he said nothing. Kiyomi stood behind him, arms crossed, gaze steady. Neither offered guidance. This was his choice.

His first real choice.

Asiro exhaled slowly. The road he picked now would shape everything that came after.

A Marine base meant patience. Structure. Certainty.

The sea meant chaos. Suffering. Power.

His lips parted slightly.

The decision was made.