One Piece: Undying Dream

Take me instead. I'm the one you've been wanting to cut open all this time."

Salazar's thin lips curved into a smile as he carefully re-stoppered the vial. "Ah, there you are. Right on cue." He tucked the poison away, never taking his eyes off Roku. "You misunderstand, my boy. I'm not offering a trade. I'm simply ensuring I have the proper... motivation to keep you compliant during our journey."

The meaning was clear. Salazar intended to take them both.

Behind the warlord, through gaps in the burning trees, Roku could just make out the silhouette of a small vessel moored at a hidden dock—Salazar's personal escape craft. Freedom was tantalizingly close, separated from them by just three obstacles: two Handlers and the monster who had turned untold numbers of slaves into screaming test subjects for his concoctions.

Roku's newfound sense pulsed at the edge of his awareness, mapping the positions of his enemies, the terrain around them, the spreading fire that would soon consume this clearing. He could feel Jiro's fear, Salazar's cold anticipation, the Handlers' mechanical readiness.

He didn't know what this power was or where it had come from. But as Roku settled into a fighting stance, he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

It was time to put it to use.

Roku stood in the clearing, his bare feet planted firmly despite the trembling ground. Across from him, Salazar's thin lips curved into a smile that never touched his eyes. Behind the warlord, Jiro knelt with his hands bound, terror etched across his face.

"You've always fascinated me," Salazar said, removing his pristine white gloves with deliberate slowness. "Such remarkable recovery rates. Such... adaptability." He replaced them with a different pair—these dark green, made of a material Roku didn't recognize. "I've been waiting for the right moment to fully explore what makes you special."

"Let Jiro go," Roku demanded, his voice steadier than he felt. "This is between us."

Salazar laughed softly. "On the contrary. Your attachment to this boy is part of my research. Emotional bonds among specimens yield such interesting behavioral data."

A massive explosion rocked the island somewhere to the north, powerful enough to make the trees around them sway. Time was running out.

The two Handlers flanking Salazar stepped forward in unison, stun batons crackling with energy. Their featureless masks reflected the flames spreading through the surrounding jungle.

"Take him," Salazar ordered. "Alive, but... compliance is optional."

The Handlers moved with practiced efficiency, separating to approach Roku from different angles. Despite their bulky protective gear, they moved quickly, clearly trained for combat.

Roku closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, accessing that strange new sense that had awakened within him. He could feel them now—not just see them, but sense their intentions, their movements before they made them. The Handler on the right would strike first, aiming low to incapacitate rather than injure.

When the attack came, Roku was already moving. He pivoted aside, the stun baton missing him by inches. The second Handler lunged forward, but Roku had anticipated this too, ducking beneath the swing and driving his shoulder into the man's midsection.

The Handler staggered back, surprised by the force of the impact from someone so young and seemingly fragile. Roku didn't give him time to recover. He followed through with a swift upward strike to the Handler's mask, cracking the protective visor.

Pain exploded across Roku's back as the first Handler landed a glancing blow with his baton. Not a direct hit, but enough to send electricity coursing through Roku's left side. His arm went numb, tingling with pins and needles.

"Impressive reflexes," Salazar commented, watching with clinical interest. "But ultimately futile."

Roku stumbled, fighting to maintain his balance as his left leg threatened to give out. The strange awareness was still there, warning him of another attack coming from behind. Unable to dodge completely, he managed to turn just enough that the baton struck his shoulder rather than his spine.

More electricity. More pain. Roku's vision blurred, but something else was happening. As the current raced through his body, that strange new sense seemed to sharpen, expanding outward. Suddenly he wasn't just feeling movements and intentions—he was seeing them, ghostly outlines of actions not yet taken.

The Handler to his right would lunge again, aiming for his legs. The one behind him would circle around, trying to flank him.

Knowledge became instinct. Roku dropped to the ground, sweep-kicking the legs out from under the approaching Handler. As the man fell, Roku grabbed the stun baton, wrenching it from his grasp. In one fluid motion, he rolled to his feet and drove the weapon into the second Handler's chest.

The man convulsed as his own weapon was used against him, then collapsed in a heap.

"One down," Roku panted, electricity still crackling through the baton in his hand.