Chapter 3: Akachan, Cast Off Your Cloak of Restraint!
"Take your sister to your mother. I'll show Sakazuki around and help him settle in."
Without lingering, Ross gently teased his daughter for a moment before setting her down and giving instructions to his two sons.
Both Ator and Alisan were remarkably mature for their age. Born on the ship, they had grown up amidst storms and uncertainty—wise beyond their years. Without hesitation, they took little Mona by the hand and left.
"Come on, Sakazuki. Let me show you around. In this family, everyone has responsibilities."
As he spoke, Ross rested a hand on Sakazuki's shoulder, guiding him through the main ship.
"Your duty is to grow stronger and protect the weaker ones when I'm not around. But first, you need to get to know your family."
Sakazuki followed silently, listening to Ross's explanations. The more he heard, the heavier his heart became.
This "home" was made up of three massive ships—less a home and more a floating orphanage. The youngest child here was only seven, the oldest sixteen—all orphans taken in by Ross during his travels across the seas.
According to Ross, he had once set sail alone, aimlessly drifting and training on a small sailboat. Everything changed after a journey to a non-affiliated island, one not under World Government protection.
Ross rarely spoke of what happened there. All Sakazuki knew was that from that point on, Ross was no longer alone. One of his future wives had followed him, bringing with her a ship, personal guards, and a group of helpless orphans.
It sounded like a fantasy, but it was real: all three ships were dowries from Ross's three wives, each a princess or noblewoman from a different kingdom. Hero-saving-damsel stories might seem cliché, but on a chaotic sea ruled by pirates, how many men were truly willing to play the hero?
And fewer still, like Ross, were kind-hearted to the core. He was the ideal man for nearly every woman on the Grand Line.
Over the years, as Ross had children of his own, the ship fleet became a real family. The orphans came to see one another as siblings. They hailed from every sea, taken in by a man who refused to leave them behind.
Under Ross's care, each child contributed as much as they could. The talented were trained as guards for the fleet. To sustain their supplies, they hunted pirates—turning in bounties for money. Having suffered at pirates' hands, they held no mercy for them.
Ross was the picture of a responsible father: tough when needed, but never cruel. After every battle, he would help the children process what they'd seen, ensuring hatred and bloodlust didn't consume them. When docking at islands ruled by kingdoms, he'd even hand out allowance money for the children to enjoy themselves.
As they walked across the deck, Sakazuki noticed the glances being thrown his way.
Some, from adult followers, were filled with respect.
Others, from the children, were filled with hope—salvation.
And that was what made Sakazuki's blood boil.
Hundreds of eyes filled with hope were like blades stabbing into his heart. But instead of pain, they built walls—walls forged of conviction. Behind that hope was tragedy.
He began to pant as the weight of realization settled on him. Had he really endured the worst loss? Were there others here who had suffered even more?
He didn't dare assume.
"Pirates… all of them deserve to die!"
His voice came out between gritted teeth, bitter and shaking, as they reached the ship's bow. The ocean wind blew hard, and Sakazuki slammed his fists into the metal-rimmed railing.
Bang!
Blood began to drip from his bruised knuckles onto the wood.
Drip... drip...
"Yes," Ross said calmly beside him, "but Sakazuki, do you understand? Not all pirates deserve to die."
Sakazuki stared, stunned. He didn't argue—he simply waited for Ross to explain.
"Do you know what happens to trash in the end?"
"…It's taken to a dump."
"And then?"
Ross leaned on the railing, his voice steady—teaching a future admiral an essential lesson.
"You don't have to go into detail. Just tell me what you know."
"It gets piled up, sometimes burned, sometimes dumped into the sea," Sakazuki replied cautiously.
Ross smiled and asked, "But is all trash meant to be destroyed? What about an empty bottle of liquor—what can it be used for?"
Sakazuki bowed his head in thought.
An empty bottle? A message-in-a-bottle? A makeshift weapon?
Yes… yes, it could have other uses. But this line of thought felt dangerously close to suggesting pirates could be reformed. Could that be allowed?
Surely not… but Ross didn't seem to mean that.
Sakazuki looked up, eyes searching Ross's face for the answer.
"No, trash doesn't need to be reformed," Ross said, as if reading his mind. "And scum doesn't deserve ideals."
Ross stood tall, arms wide to the sea breeze, as he continued:
"You take that empty bottle, fill it with gunpowder, light the fuse, and—"
"Boom!!!"
Sakazuki's eyes lit up.
"That's what we call recycling, Sakazuki. Understand this: you can't kill them all. Pirates are brutal, and you need to be even more brutal. Or rather—be ready to abandon morals and humanity entirely."
"To kill in the name of peace—but still fail to kill them all? That brings endless conflict."
"To fight violence with greater violence—at least then, the damage is limited to a single side!"
Ross turned to him, voice solemn:
"Tell me, Sakazuki. How should we deal with trash?"
The sea wind blew gently, carrying the weight of time.
Ross glanced down at the silent boy, but through his Haki, he sensed it—that flicker of emotion deep inside.
He didn't need a reply.
The reserved Akainu of the past was gone. What would rise now… was the complete, intelligent, and sharp-minded Sakazuki.
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