One Piece: Undying Dream

The warlord's eyes widened in genuine shock. "You..." he gasped, blood bubbling from his lips. "Impossible."

Roku couldn't speak, the paralysis having reached his vocal cords. But his eyes conveyed everything—defiance, rage, and the promise that even if he died here, he wouldn't die a slave.

Salazar staggered back, clutching his wound. For a moment, Roku thought it was over. But then the warlord smiled—a ghastly expression made worse by the blood staining his teeth.

"Even now, you surprise me," he wheezed, producing a small vial from his pocket. "But I'm not finished with you yet."

With trembling hands, Salazar unstoppered the vial and flung its contents at Roku's face. Most of the liquid missed, but a few drops splashed across his cheek and neck. Immediately, Roku felt a new kind of burning—deeper, more insidious than the paralyzing toxin.

"Insurance," Salazar explained, pressing a hand to his bleeding side. "A special compound of my own design. Slow-acting, but eventually fatal without the antidote—which only I possess." He coughed, splattering blood across the ground. "You may have won this encounter, but you're still mine. When the poison fully takes hold, you'll wish you had died here today."

Salazar backed away stumbling, "We'll meet again, Roku. And next time, you won't have chaos and luck on your side." and then he disappeared into the burning jungle.

Roku watched helplessly as Salazar retreated, unable to pursue, unable even to call out. The poison from the scalpel had almost completely paralyzed him now, and whatever Salazar had splashed on him was beginning a slow burn through his system—a ticking clock of death that would follow him even if he escaped the island.

As unconsciousness finally claimed him, Roku's last thoughts were of Jiro, lying injured nearby, and of the sea beyond—the freedom he had dreamed of for so long, now tantalizingly close yet slipping away as darkness engulfed him.

Consciousness returned to Roku in fragments—disjointed sensations filtering through a haze of pain. The rhythmic jostling of movement. The smell of ash and seawater. A voice, strained with effort, murmuring encouragement he couldn't quite make out.

"—have to make it. Come on, Roku. Stay with me."

Jiro.

Roku tried to speak, but his body refused to obey. The paralyzing toxin still gripped his muscles, and beneath that numbness, a deeper burning spread through his veins—Salazar's "insurance" working its way through his system.

His eyelids fluttered open briefly, revealing glimpses of a nightmare landscape. Through blurred vision, he saw Jiro's face, streaked with soot and determination, the older boy's jaw clenched with the effort of half-carrying, half-dragging Roku's paralyzed form.

"J-Jir—" Roku managed, before darkness claimed him once more.

01:33 - Near the North Shores

The next time awareness returned, they were closer to the shore. Roku could hear the crash of waves, smell the salt more strongly now. His paralysis had receded slightly—enough to turn his head and take in their surroundings.

Jiro was still carrying him, though the older boy's movements had become increasingly labored. His injured leg dragged behind him, leaving a trail of blood on the sandy path. Sweat poured down his face despite the cool night air, and his breathing came in ragged gasps.

"Put... me down," Roku whispered, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar to his own ears.

Jiro startled, then looked down with a pained smile. "Finally awake, huh? Was getting tired of your dead weight." Despite his attempt at humor, relief flooded his features. "Not stopping now. Almost there."

Roku managed to focus his gaze ahead. Through the trees, he could make out the northern harbor—or what remained of it. Most of the docks had been destroyed, either by the pirates' attack or by fleeing ships casting off in panic. A handful of vessels remained, some already engulfed in flames, others seemingly abandoned in haste.

"Ship," Jiro gasped, nodding toward the far end of the bay where a sleek vessel with dark sails bobbed at the single remaining intact dock. "Saw it earlier... near his lab... thought we could..."

His words trailed off as his injured leg finally gave out. They both tumbled to the ground, Roku's still mostly-paralyzed body unable to break the fall. Pain flared through him as they hit the sand, the impact jarring every injured bone and muscle.

Jiro let out a strangled cry, clutching at his mangled leg. The fall had reopened the wound, fresh blood soaking through the crude bandage he'd fashioned.

"Can't..." Roku tried to move his limbs, fighting against the paralyzing toxin with everything he had. His fingers twitched slightly, but his legs remained useless. "Can't walk."

"I know," Jiro said, his face pale beneath the grime. "That's why I've been carrying you, idiot."

"No." Roku shook his head weakly. "You go. Take the boat. I'll slow you down."

Jiro's expression hardened. "Not happening. We both get out or neither does." He began tearing strips from his already tattered shirt, fashioning a new bandage for his leg. "Just need... a minute."

As Jiro worked, Roku tried again to access that strange awareness that had awakened during his fight with Salazar. It felt distant now, muted by the toxins coursing through his system, but not entirely gone. He reached for it, pushing past the pain and paralysis, extending his senses outward as he had done in the clearing.

What he felt made his blood run cold.

"Someone's coming," he whispered urgently. "Multiple people. From the east."

Jiro's head snapped up. "How do you—" He shook his head, abandoning the question. "Guards?"

"Worse," Roku said, the certainty settling in his gut like a stone. "Much worse."

Even as he spoke, they emerged from the treeline fifty yards away—three figures moving with the casual confidence of predators.