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[OP Marine Officer Luffy] Chapter 316- 320
🕑 Added 2025-01-15 01:00:05 +0000 UTCChapter 316: Justice without Reward, 2500-man 'Army'
The young captain bristled with indignation, ready to argue further, but Rear Admiral Darius raised a hand, his calm authority silencing any protest.
“If one in ten people is ungrateful, will we abandon them all? If only one in ten knows gratitude, will we refuse to help?” Darius’s voice was steady but firm, his words resonating deeply.
“No. As long as civilians are in need, it is our duty as Marines to enforce justice. Justice without asking for anything in return—that is the essence of our mission and the principle by which I live.”
He patted the young captain on the shoulder. The captain, momentarily stunned, seemed to grasp the weight of Darius’s conviction. Without waiting for a response, Darius turned to the signalman and issued his orders.
“Send a message to Captain Cookie, Captain Milk, and Captain Leo. Tell them to stay vigilant and call for assistance if needed. Also, alert the troops here to prepare for battle. If they want to fight, we’ll meet them head-on. The Marines do not fear any enemy!”
The signalman saluted sharply, admiration gleaming in his eyes, before rushing off to relay the instructions.
The young captain stood silently, absorbing Darius’s words. After a moment, he straightened his posture and declared with newfound resolve, “I understand, Rear Admiral Darius. I’ll remember your teachings and never forget the righteous mission behind our actions.”
Darius gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Good. But remember, everyone’s sense of justice is different. You must discover and follow your own.”
The captain nodded solemnly, vowing silently to uphold the ideals of justice. Meanwhile, Darius turned his attention back to preparations. Concerned that the upcoming battle could endanger the nearby town of Good Luck, he ordered the camp to be relocated to an uninhabited hill a few kilometers away.
The wounded, along with their medical team, were transferred to the rear for safety. With the immediate logistics handled, Darius began strategizing for the inevitable confrontation.
Elsewhere, the self-proclaimed "army" of Gankuro had left the Flower Capital, marching toward Hakumai. The title of Kozuki Sukiyaki’s shogun still carried weight, and many flocked to join the banner, whether out of loyalty, ambition, or desperation.
Gankuro’s forces grew rapidly, bolstered by ronin, Yakuza, and opportunists eager to take advantage of the chaos. To his delight, even some locals provided intelligence on Marine activities, tipping the scales in his favor.
Riding a newly acquired horse, Gankuro addressed his motley crew of 2,500. His voice rang out confidently as they marched. “Gentlemen, the enemy is weak and disorganized! The Marines in Hakumai number no more than 2,000. Meanwhile, we have not only the brave 2,500 Samurai here but also the support of countless loyalists from Kuri, Udon, Kibi, and beyond. Together, we will crush these outsiders and restore Wano to its rightful rulers!”
The ragtag army erupted into cheers, spurred on by Gankuro’s fiery rhetoric.
Emboldened by their enthusiasm, he unsheathed his sword, raising it high. “Samurai, it’s time to serve His Majesty the Shogun! Let us drive out these invaders, claim glory, seize gold, and take what’s ours!”
The crowd roared in approval, their shouts echoing across the countryside.
As they neared the river separating the Flower Capital from Hakumai, the high-spirited march came to an abrupt halt. A vast expanse of water stretched before them, and the bridge that once spanned the river lay in ruins.
Gankuro scowled, his mood souring. “That damn Orochi!” he spat, dismounting his horse. “He spent his days drinking and chasing women but couldn’t even maintain a simple bridge! It’s disgraceful he got off so easily by dying.”
After venting his frustration, he quickly shifted focus. “If the bridge is gone, then we’ll cross by boat,” he declared, summoning several Yakuza leaders to his side.
“Search both sides of the river for boats—anything that floats—and bring them back here immediately,” he ordered.
The leaders, eager to prove themselves, saluted enthusiastically and rushed off with their men. Their excitement at the opportunity to make a name for themselves was palpable.
Though Gankuro privately regarded them as simple-minded fools, he couldn’t deny their utility. As a former Yakuza himself, he knew these people would be valuable tools in the battles to come.
Watching his subordinates scatter along the riverbank, Gankuro smirked. With this army, I will solidify my place as Wano’s greatest hero, he thought, mounting his horse again. Let Sukiyaki favor Denjiro all he wants now. Once I’ve crushed the Marines and unified Wano, I’ll be the one standing at the Shogun’s side.
Chapter 317: Yakuza Leader: "I am a Samurai from the Kozuki Family, Do You Want to Rebel?!"
Ringo Village, a modest settlement nestled along the river in the Flower Capital, was known for its tranquil life. The villagers made their living ferrying passengers across the river and fishing its abundant waters.
Although news of Orochi’s death had spread, bringing fewer travelers and lower incomes, the villagers managed. As long as they weren’t too idle, the river provided enough to keep hunger at bay—a rare fortune for the lower class in Wano Country.
But tranquility never lasts. On this day, a raucous group of Yakuza and ronin descended upon the village, shattering its peace.
“Brother, we hit the jackpot,” a scrawny thug reported eagerly to the towering Yakuza leader, a burly man carrying a massive sword nearly as tall as himself. “This village has enough boats. If we take them all and make a couple of trips, our army can cross the river easily.”
The leader grinned, his voice booming with satisfaction. “Haha, excellent! Gather the boats now. Lord Gankuro will reward us handsomely for this.”
At his command, the mob surged into the village. Though their goal was to seize the boats, the Yakuza couldn’t resist helping themselves to whatever they found—hanging fish, chickens pecking freely, and even small personal belongings.
Inside their homes, the villagers watched with fear through cracks in doors and windows. Some clenched their fists in silent rage, but most kept their heads low, praying the invaders would leave once they had what they wanted.
The leader, seeing his men looting aimlessly, frowned. He kicked over a thug attempting to raid a chicken coop and barked, “Idiots! We’re not some lowly thieves anymore! We’re soldiers in the army of His Majesty, the Shogun. Do your job and secure the boats! Lord Gankuro’s rewards will be worth more than this petty junk.”
The scolding seemed to work. The Yakuza grumbled but redirected their attention to the village’s small pier, where they began untying fishing boats and preparing to take them away.
For the villagers, the boats were their lifeline. Watching the Yakuza take them was too much to bear. Anger overcame fear, and one by one, they emerged from their homes, armed with whatever they could find—kitchen knives, broken sticks, even harpoons.
“Get your filthy hands off our boats!” one man shouted, brandishing a rusty blade.
“You’re not welcome here! Leave before we make you!” another yelled.
More than seventy villagers gathered, surrounding the Yakuza and cutting off their escape. The thugs, momentarily startled, dropped their loot and reached for their swords.
But the leader wasn’t worried. He smirked, eyeing the villagers’ makeshift weapons. Kitchen knives? Harpoons? He sneered inwardly. These people had no real combat training.
During Orochi’s reign, the possession of swords was outlawed, and martial arts dojos were shut down. The villagers before him had likely never even held a proper blade.
The leader stepped forward confidently, his massive sword resting on his shoulder. Pushing aside a nervous subordinate, he addressed the villagers in a booming voice.
“How dare you oppose us! We are Samurai of the Kozuki family, under the command of His Majesty, Shogun Kozuki Sukiyaki. Are you trying to rebel against the Shogun’s orders?!”
The villagers faltered, their courage wavering. The name “Kozuki Sukiyaki” carried weight, even though many knew the Shogun had been declared dead years ago. Few dared question his sudden return. The thought of rebelling against the Kozuki family—a name steeped in history and reverence—made them tremble.
Seeing their hesitation, The leader smirked. The Shogun’s name still works wonders, he thought. Sensing an opportunity to bolster his authority, he raised his voice, his tone dripping with disdain.
“What are you doing, fools? Kneel before the Shogun’s army! Or do you want to be branded traitors to Wano?!”
The word rebellion struck fear into the hearts of the weaker villagers. Some dropped their weapons immediately, falling to their knees.
“Sir, we didn’t mean it! Please forgive us!” one cried.
“Yes, we wouldn’t have dared if we’d known you were the Shogun’s men!” another stammered, bowing his head low.
Chapter 318: The Young Man Who Rises Up
As the villagers knelt and begged for mercy, the Yakuza leader looked on with surprise. He hadn’t expected the mere mention of "Shogun" to bring such swift submission. Seeing everyone on their knees fueled his arrogance.
“Do you think just apologizing will be enough?” he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’ve offended us, which means you’ve offended the Shogun!”
He waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the villagers’ pale, fearful faces. Turning to his lackeys, he ordered with an evil grin, “Search every house! These peasants must have been planning a rebellion all along.”
Without hesitation, he strode toward the nearest house, kicking the door open. Inside, the sound of smashing furniture and desperate pleas for mercy echoed out. Emboldened by their leader’s actions, the other Yakuza members split into groups, storming into homes with loud whoops of excitement.
The peaceful village descended into chaos. Screams of terror rang out from several homes, mingling with the shouts of the Yakuza and the crash of looted belongings.
The villagers, who had been trembling on their knees, froze at the sounds of their loved ones’ cries. Their initial fear gave way to rising anger. One by one, their expressions darkened as the realization set in—they had no choice but to fight.
Among them, a tall, dark-skinned young man was the first to act. He rose to his feet, ignoring the others' warnings, and picked up a harpoon from the ground.
“Naoko!” he shouted, his voice thick with desperation as he ran toward his home.
When he arrived, the sight before him made his blood boil. Two thugs were tearing at his 13-year-old sister’s clothes, their leering faces filled with malice.
The young man’s vision blurred with rage. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, gripping the harpoon tightly. With a primal yell, he plunged it into the back of one of the men. The thug let out a choked gasp, his eyes widening in shock before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
The second Yakuza, splattered with his companion’s blood, froze in place, his brain struggling to process what had just happened. The young man didn’t give him a chance to recover. He tackled him to the floor, pinning him down.
With his left hand, he gripped the man’s throat, and with his right, he began raining down punches. Each blow landed with brutal force, blood spraying from the Yakuza’s face. The man’s feeble attempts to resist grew weaker until his head slumped to the side, unconscious.
But the young man wasn’t done. Seething with fury, he grabbed the Yakuza’s sword and plunged it into the man’s body repeatedly. He didn’t stop until the body lay motionless, soaked in blood.
“Brother!” a small, trembling voice cried out. His sister, Naoko, threw herself into his arms, tears streaming down her face.
Unlike her brother, Naoko had been shielded from the harshness of the world. Her fair skin and sweet, innocent demeanor reflected the care her brother had given her. But now, her disheveled clothes and tear-streaked face told a different story.
The young man patted her back gently, his rage simmering beneath his comforting words. “Naoko, listen to me,” he said firmly. “Go hide in the closet. Take this knife. If anyone comes in, close your eyes and stab.”
“B-but, brother…” Naoko clutched his arm, her voice filled with fear and resistance. She didn’t want him to leave, knowing the danger that awaited outside.
He knelt down, pressing the bloodied knife into her hands. “Do as I say. I’ll handle this.”
Breaking free from her grasp, he picked up another sword from the ground and stepped outside. Naoko watched him go, tears streaming down her cheeks. She sniffed, trying to steady herself, and finally retreated to the closet as instructed, clutching the knife tightly.
“Brother… come back,” she whispered.
The young man stepped into a scene of utter chaos. Villagers had risen up, finally throwing aside their fear to protect their loved ones. Armed with kitchen knives, sticks, and fishing gear, they fought fiercely against the invaders.
Several Yakuza members had already been injured or killed in the surprise resistance. However, years of street brawling and combat experience gave the Yakuza the upper hand. They quickly regrouped, drawing their swords and striking back with deadly efficiency.
The villagers, despite their courage, were no match for the Yakuza’ brutality. Their lack of combat training and poor weapons left them vulnerable. Within minutes, the tide turned. Several villagers fell, blood staining the dirt streets.
The situation worsened as the Yakuza leader entered the fray.
Chapter 319: Retreating Step by Step, Waiting for Death
The small Yakuza leader seethed with rage. What should have been a simple task—gathering boats—had cost him several of his men. His humiliation was compounded by the thought of facing Lord Gankuro, who already viewed him with disdain. Even worse, the other Yakuza leaders would mock him endlessly, tarnishing his reputation.
Fury boiled over as he swung his sword, cutting down a villager who dared to charge him. “You bastards! Are you rebelling against His Majesty the Shogun?! Fine, then—I’ll kill you all myself!”
With a bellow, the Yakuza leader leaped into the fray, his massive blade sweeping through the villagers. Several fell in an instant, their lifeless bodies hitting the dirt.
Haruto, the young man who had risen to defend his home, watched in horror as the villagers—people who had cared for him and his sister—were slaughtered before his eyes. Overwhelmed by grief and rage, he gripped the sword he had taken from a fallen Yakuza and charged at the leader.
The Yakuza leader spotted him immediately. Kicking aside another villager attempting a sneak attack, he turned his attention to the boy. A cruel grin spread across his face as he raised his oversized blade. “Come on, kid,” he sneered, “let’s see how long you last.”
Haruto had never been trained in swordsmanship, but raw determination guided his movements. As the leader’s blade swung toward him, Haruto instinctively countered, their weapons clashing with a deafening clang. The Yakuza leader had expected to overpower the boy instantly, but to his shock, Haruto held firm. Veins bulged on the boy’s arms as he matched the leader’s strength, even managing to push back slightly.
“What?! This brat… How is this possible?!” The Yakuza leader’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Sensing his enemy’s hesitation, Haruto roared and pressed his attack, forcing the leader to step back. But before he could capitalize on the moment, the leader shifted tactics. With a quick, calculated move, he withdrew his blade and delivered a powerful kick to Haruto’s chest. The boy was sent flying several meters, crashing to the ground in a heap. Blood spattered the dirt as he coughed violently, clutching his ribs.
The Yakuza leader calmly rested his sword on his shoulder, shaking his head with disdain. “Pathetic. All brute force and no technique. Strength alone won’t save you, kid.”
Haruto struggled to lift his head, glaring at the Yakuza leader through gritted teeth. A middle-aged villager, Takeshi, rushed to his side and helped him sit up. “Haruto, are you okay? Stay down—you’re hurt.”
Coughing but resolute, Haruto shook his head. “I’m fine, Uncle Takeshi. I can still fight.”
He used his sword as a crutch to stand, ignoring the searing pain in his chest. But as he looked at the towering Yakuza leader, a flicker of doubt crossed his face. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned to Takeshi. “Uncle, take the village chief and the others. Get the elderly and children out of here. And… please, take my sister with you.”
Before Takeshi could respond, Haruto tightened his grip on his sword and charged at the leader again, shouting a defiant battle cry.
Takeshi reached out as if to stop him, but seeing the determination in Haruto’s eyes, he relented. Swallowing his own fear, he turned and ran to find the village chief.
The villagers, though outmatched, refused to give up. Step by step, they retreated, using whatever they could to slow the Yakuza’ advance and buy time for their families to escape. Their courage came at a cost—several lay dead or dying, their blood soaking into the dirt.
Haruto, meanwhile, faced the Yakuza leader head-on. Though his lack of training left him at a disadvantage, his sheer willpower kept him standing. Again and again, he swung his blade, his attacks wild but relentless. The leader, a seasoned fighter, quickly adapted, parrying each strike and delivering shallow cuts that slowly sapped the boy’s strength.
By the time Haruto’s arms began to tremble, he was covered in blood from a dozen wounds. None were immediately fatal, but the steady loss of blood was taking its toll.
Even so, Haruto refused to fall. He stood panting, his chest heaving, as he prepared for another attack.
The Yakuza leader couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect. “A kid with no training, fighting like this in his first battle? You’ve got guts,” he admitted. Lowering his sword slightly, he added, “Kozuki Sukiyaki needs men like you. If you join us, I’ll make sure you and your family are taken care of. This is your chance to become a samurai.”
Haruto’s breaths came in ragged gasps as he glanced around. Familiar faces lay scattered across the ground, lifeless. Villagers who had once shared meals with him, protected his sister, and treated him like family—gone. The weight of their sacrifice burned in his chest.
He clenched his teeth, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. With a hoarse voice, he spat, “I’d rather die.”
Chapter 320: Timely Rescue of the Marine
“You think I’d ever join a pack of scum who burn, kill, and rob?!” Haruto spat, his voice filled with defiance despite his trembling body. “Even if it’s just me, I’ll protect my sister and the village!”
Summoning the last of his strength, Haruto raised his sword and charged at the Yakuza leader once more.
The leader, though impressed by the boy’s spirit, had already decided his fate. A strong-willed kid like this could grow up to seek revenge. Better to end it now, he thought, grinning wickedly.
Effortlessly sidestepping Haruto’s wild slash, the leader hooked his foot under the boy’s legs and sent him sprawling to the ground. Before Haruto could recover, the leader stepped on his hand, crushing it against the dirt with a sickening crunch.
“Stubborn little brat,” the leader sneered, raising his massive sword high above his head. His voice turned mocking as he added, “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your sister after you’re gone.”
Haruto’s vision blurred as he struggled beneath the Yakuza leader’s boot. His body screamed in pain, and his strength was completely spent. Knowing he could no longer fight, he closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek.
Uncle Takeshi… village chief… please take Naoko and run far away. Naoko, I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect you… but you must survive.
The cold steel of the leader’s blade gleamed as it descended toward Haruto. But just as death seemed inevitable, a powerful voice rang out.
“Tempest Kick!”
A streak of blue energy sliced through the air, striking the Yakuza leader square in the chest. His cruel smile turned into a gasp of shock as the force launched him dozens of meters away, slamming him into the ground with a heavy thud.
Haruto blinked, confused by the sudden turn of events. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find the Yakuza leader gone. Sitting up with great difficulty, he looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened.
In the distance, a loud commotion caught his attention. He turned his head and saw a group of uniformed men—dressed in blue and white, wielding swords and muskets—charging into the village with precision and discipline.
Leading them was a young man in a strange coat, his movements impossibly fast. With a single swing of his blade, he took down four or five Yakuza at once. Around him, the Marines fought fiercely, swiftly overwhelming the enemy.
The Yakuza, who had held the upper hand just moments before, were now in utter disarray. Many fell where they stood, while others attempted to flee, only to be gunned down by the Marines’ sharpshooters.
“Shoot! Don’t let a single one escape!” the young Marine captain shouted, his voice commanding and unyielding.
With a burst of speed, he disappeared from sight, reappearing moments later to take down a group of retreating Yakuza. Those who thought they could outrun the Marines found themselves outmatched by the elite snipers, who picked them off one by one with deadly precision.
The once-dominant Yakuza were reduced to nothing more than bodies strewn across the village. The Marines’ efficiency left Haruto and the other villagers in stunned silence.
As the last of the Yakuza fell, the young captain, Dev, slowly sheathed his sword. He surveyed the devastation, his expression grim. Around him, villagers wept over the bodies of their loved ones, while others tended to the wounded. The sorrow and chaos weighed heavily on his heart.
“Help them,” he ordered his men. The Marines immediately sprang into action, assisting the injured and calming the frightened.
Dev made his way toward the Yakuza leader, who was groaning weakly on the ground where he had landed. Looking down at him with disdain, Dev muttered, “If it weren’t for what Rear Admiral Darius taught me, I wouldn’t have bothered with you.”
At just 23 years old, Dev was still grappling with the ideals of justice the Marines upheld. He had been on a scouting mission when he stumbled upon the scene. His first instinct had been to avoid getting involved, but Darius’s words echoed in his mind, compelling him to act.
As Dev turned back toward the villagers, his gaze fell on Haruto, who was struggling to stand despite his injuries. The boy’s stubborn resolve and defiance stirred something in the young Marine captain.
“You’re brave, kid,” Dev said, his voice softer now. “But next time, leave the fighting to us.”
Haruto, still clutching his side, nodded weakly. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he simply lowered his head, overwhelmed by exhaustion and relief.
For the first time that day, the village seemed to breathe again. The Marines’ timely arrival had turned the tide, bringing hope to a place that had nearly succumbed to despair.
