Mighty Sword, Mightier Pen

May Justice Be With You
Dawn had just broken on Takamagahara, and the sunlight began to trickle through the islands located in the sky. Unlike regular islands, the unusual position of these sky islands caused the light to refract in such a way that created an almost illusory effect. On one of the smaller, more distant islands that constituted Takamagahara, there was a small building, painted purely white with accents of navy blue dashing across it — a classic building created by the Marines.

Coming out of the building was a man with stark white hair and dark green eyes. He wasn't wearing a shirt this morning, despite the crisp winds causing the temperature to be quite cold, and only wore black tights for the sake of training. This was  Quill Pencilio, who acted as the primary journalist for the Marines, and a direct subordinate under  Kurama; a member of his Inner Circle, if you would.

At barely 5am in the morning, Pencilio was performing his routine training in. As the disciple of a number of extraordinary Martial Artists, including Stella, Kurama and Sparrow Raizen himself, Pencilio was exposed to a number of different Martial Arts styles and principles. However, Quill Pencilio was different to everyone in the Inner Circle. These people possessed resolves and undertook Martial Arts in its purest form. Pencilio treated Martial Arts as an art form, or more precisely, a pen, to weave his words — his intention — to life.

After taking a deep breath, Pencilio, without any warning, kicked the air with a perfectly straight kick. The freezing air howled and retreated in face of the might Pencilio displayed, while the training dummy before him had its head shattered from the force he exhibited. Pencilio was not done there, however. In seemingly the same motion, Pencilio's leg, while remaining entirely outstretched, shifted diagonally downward, upwards, and finally a straight horizontal line concluding the motion. Air pressure was left from the force of the movement, displaying a triangular shape created from the kicking technique.

This was the Saigai Taijutsu that the Commodore prided himself in. A combination of, Bansho Yanagare-ryu and general Martial Arts principles, it should have theoretically been the ultimate form of Martial Arts. But of course, Pencilio was not so dull that he would possess a Martial Arts style without any form of flair. The triangular shape that Pencilio just created was merely the tip of the iceberg. Saigai Taijutsu, a Martial Arts that existed to paint the intention of Pencilio through the entirety of his body. All kicks, punches, and other movements all contributed to a piece of artwork, that Quill Pencilio intended to deliver to the world en-masse.

"Hmm...I've been rusty. What do you think, Kurama-pen?" Pencilio asked the onlooker that he had noticed in the middle of his initial routine. Of course, if Pencilio had interrupted his routine to acknowledge the Fleet Admiral's presence, the Fleet Admiral would have kicked him off Takamagahara before he had time to react.

"Oho?" Kurama mused, stepping onto the scene as part of his black kimono fluttered about in the gentle breeze. "Asking me for my thoughts, Quill? That doesn't happen very often." the Fleet Admiral answered, casually strolling along the training grounds as he took in the sights of the beautiful island in all its splendor, while also addressing his student-subordinate. "I would not say rusty. For it to be rusty, you would have had to lose something you once had. But you're still lacking that certain something." he would explain, hiding his hands into his sleeves as though he were giving off the presence of a wise old master.

"Martial arts are a medium for expression, that is true for all people, no matter the style or era. It is even more so true for you, given that it is an extension of your art." Kurama would muse, pulling out a pot of tea from his sleeve along with a pair of miniature cups, an act which Quill was likely to respond with "where exactly did those come from, Kurama-pen?" in a suspicious tone but Kurama would likely have just waved the concern off.

Placing the tea pot down at a stone table situated at the edges of the training area, he took a seat at one of the benches, slowly pouring some into both of the cups. "Your potential is beyond measure, Quill. Your talent, incomparable. But often times, it can be said that talent can be the enemy. When you're young and overflowing with natural ability, it is rare for one to be challenged. To feel that moment where everything that they are is challenged and that they must transcend if they are to survive. You live through life thinking you are at the top of a mountain, only to be blinded by the vast skies above that are unreachable because you never developed wings. Ultimately..."

The Fleet Admiral placed the tea pot down, before looking back to Quill. "I'm sure, as an artist, you know that the beauty of an art piece can often mask something very important about it. Something critical. They might be beautiful and appealing to the eyes, but in truth, they are empty. Husks that carry nothing within them. The beauty of an art piece, the true beauty, is when one fills their heart into the piece. When those emotions are so powerful, it literally exudes off of the art. And that..." Kurama remarked, pointing his finger toward Quill. "...is what you still lack. Emotional content."

"Hmmm..." Pencilio's motions had stopped in the middle of their path as Kurama began talking. It wasn't so much Pencilio alone that had stopped moving, but rather, his entire body knew to instinctively take heed of Kurama's advice. So, he retracted his leg from the air and instead took a seat next to Kurama, gratefully picking up one of the teacups with a bow.

As Kurama continued to speak, Pencilio felt for the first time that the Fleet Admiral urged him to go out on his own and seek strength. "So, you're saying...something along the lines of what Raizen-penpai would have been feeling as he fought the "Queen of Hearts" Lieselotte?"

As Pencilio took a sip of his tea he did realize that emotional weight was lost on him. He did not know the exact reason for it all...as an art piece, he was flawless. But he could not convey the same emotion as a broadcaster could, no matter the effort he put in. It always felt...hollow. During his reminiscence, a particular figure came to his mind. An individual that he once called a friend, who cut off his ties to the Marines and joined the ranks of the Yonko, Daikaku. But even at that event...it felt like, to Pencilio, it all had been inevitable.

"I wonder...just why this is..."

"You'll have to ask Raizen yourself about that, far be it for me to speak of another man's experiences..." Kurama proclaimed, sipping from his tea before resuming his words. "But if I were to make a guess, I think Raizen encountered something that few warriors are ever lucky enough to experience. Their 'wall'." the Fleet Admiral spoke, leaning back on his chair as he crossed his arms. "Call it one's limits that need to be broken, or a valley that must be crossed, or simply a wall that needs to be climbed... I think calling it a wall is the best way to describe it."

Kurama smirked softly before continuing. "All people hide behind their own individual walls, whether they realize it or not. Sometimes out of fear of not being accepted, sometimes out of a fragile ego or confidence in themselves, or perhaps it's just a fear of failure. They always unconsciously hold themselves back because they are not faced with a situation that requires them to devote all of themselves. To simply say 'it's okay, I'll try again tomorrow' is a cute and adorable phrase for those who have never encountered a life or death situation, but nothing is gained from that sense of self-satisfaction. To believe 'I can just try tomorrow so it's okay to not try hard today' is what holds people back. Raizen's situation was exactly that. Either he would overcome the impossible, or die. He went into that fight knowing those were the only two roads permitted to him." he explained, his tone almost lowering into a solemn volume.

"Now, don't get me wrong. I told Raizen to bring back-up with him. I even told him that he should bring Stella and Haruka with him. But he insisted on going alone, even if it meant he'd die. I can't say I can condone marines needlessly dying, people are a resource after all. And above all else, you, Raizen, and the others, are my family. As Haruka-san once told me, that's the meaning of an 'inner circle'. But as a warrior myself, I cannot help but admire the desire to face a situation where your only hope for survival is to overcome your wall." Kurama mused, before looking back at Quill.

Getting up from his seat, he walked toward one of the various ponds that circled the perimeter, gesturing for Quill to follow him and speaking once more as they approached the water. "You see that down there?" Kurama gestured, referring to Quill's reflection in the water. "That's your toughest opponent. Every pirate you fight, every criminal you go up against, every opponent you face, that's who you're going up against. That is your 'wall'. To overcome your wall is to overcome the you of 'right now'. And you won't be able to do that with just training drills." the Fleet Admiral explained.

Two women sat in a rather large room which had four beds scattered around it. It could easily b considered a bunker or the living quarters for the Marines. Pictures were posted all across the room's walls. Some of the girl with pink hair sitting at the table and three other girls.

"Sorry to come so abruptly, Lieutenant Commander Paris. However, it was now or never and best that we got this out of the way while Solomon is away." The red-hared woman, reached under the seat she sat on and pulled out a bag and plopped it onto the table.

Paris was confused, she honestly had no idea what was going on, but with Roselia being in higher command, she chose to listen. "I'm sorry, Lady Roselia! I-I'm not too sure what you mean!" She responded nervously while staring at the bag Roselia placed on the table. Roselia and Paris were never able to speak in private before, so having a one on one conversation with the woman for the first time, caused a bit of hesitation.

"It's fine, Paris." Roselia began to open the back and pulled out a plate. "I've been watching you progress over these past couple months. Preparing yourself for the big battle and the day you will meet Autumn again. I've seen your progress, Paris, it's been showing in your training regiments. But I hav-"

The door to the room flung open and a young Marine boy step in the doorwar. "Miss. Roselia!" He shouted, "Come to Doge's recovering center as soon as you're finished here!" Without waiting for her to respond, he took off in the other direction.

"Minerva's gotta' teach that kid some manners." Roselia hissed, proceeding on with her conversation with Paris. "But, as I was saying, Paris, I've been paying attention to your growth and I've noticed. To commerate your hard work, I want to give you something."

Paris lifted her hands over the table and waving them in a no-like manner, "Oh no, no Miss Roselia! No need to give me a gift or anything. I-I don't deserve a gift or anything! Y-Your words are more than enough! Hone-"

Roselia smashed her hand onto the table and punched straight through it, causing the lone plate and bagged item to jump up slightly. Lava hung around the circlular punch she creating, dripping to the ground. "I insist that you accept this, Paris! Please listen!" She shouted, reaching for the bag and pulling it down revealing a miniture beehive looking object.

Freightened by Roselia' shouting and actions, Paris stiffened herself and keep her eyes focused on her surperior's actions. "I see what Solomon-sama is scared of her." She thought to herself, maintaining a forced smile.

"I'm sorry to shout at you, but this means a lot to me and this was not an easy decision to make." Roselia rubbed across the side of the beehive and looked at it in awe. "This here, is a devil fruit. It's called the Hani Hani no Mi."

Paris' eyes widened which was to be expected. "This is a devil fruit? I've never seen one up close, but they truly do come in all shapes and sizes."

"The Hani Hani no Mi," Roselia continued on, "is a -type devil fruit. It allows the user to transform themselves into . A while ago I mentioned this was a hard decision to make because..." She stopped mid sentence as a tear rolled down her cheek like a critter crawling down a wall. "Because it once belongged to a comrade of mine! A very, very, close comrade of mine!"

"Miss Roselia!"

The Captain wiped her tear away, "In you, I see that same kind hearted nature, Honey once had. Your conviction and inability to give up on saving your friend Autumn has convinced me! What I'm trying to say is, I want to give you the Hani Hani no Mi! To help you get stronger and aid you in rescuing her!!" Roselia lifted the fruit out of the bag, as well as a fork, and placed the fruit on the table and cut a piece of it.

"Wait, Miss Roselia! If it's sacred to you, I'd rather not accept it. I would not want to taint you former comrade!" Paris, gripped her fist. "I DON'T WANT YOU DISAPPOINT YOU!!!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, but quickly wrapped her hands around her mouth once realizing what she had done.

Roselia continued to cut a piece of the fruit and held it at the end of the fork. She then reached her arm across the table to hand Paris the fork. "You conviction alone has showed me your will not disappoint me!"

"B-But M-Miss Rosel-"

Cutting the girl off, Roselia stuck the fork into her mouth mid sentence and essentially "force fed" her the fruit. Choosing to not choke, Paris swallowed the fruit and gave back a sour face.

"Hahaha," Roselia laughed. "I still find joy in seeing people's first time eating a devil fruit."

Tears rushed down Paris' face as she shouted, "THANK YOU LADY ROSELIA!"

The doors flung open with to the room once again and a dark-skinned girl with beautiful green hair walked through. "Hey captain!" The girl shouted, reaching her arm into the air, stretching out her navy blue leotard. "Bambina-sense would like a word with you!"

"Oh, hey, Lamaria. Well aren't I famous today."

Naval Preperations
It had reached about 10am on the same day that Pencilio was just talking to Kurama about himself. He found himself contemplating the words Kurama spoke, but tried to not let them distract him from his duties, of which he had aplenty.

Among those duties was to tend to both of his assistants, Quill Susanna and Jenkins Paris. As he peered around the office, with photos and text strapped all across the walls, he couldn't find a single soul besides his younger sister Susanna.

"Suzy. Do you know where Paris-pen is?" Quill asked, continuing to type away on his writing instrument.

Suzy sat at her table, rifling through sizable stacks of paperwork. For an eleven-year-old, she worked harder than most adults. She owed her amazing work ethic to her older brother. She owed a lot of her habits to her brother, actually. The young girl looked up from the paper she had been perusing at her brother's voice.

She looked around herself quizzically for a moment "Hrm...I could've sworn she was just here..." She shrugged her shoulders at Quill "It would seem I have lost Paris-pen, Pen-pen. Is she tagged? Should we be worried about her getting lost or hurt?"

"Uh, hm...we are still in Takamagahara, so anyone breaching should be nearly impossible. I wonder if she's gotten lost. She is still new to the job. Either that or...someone is delaying her." Pencilio bumped up and down, left and right, and circled around the building. He still couldn't find her! It was an endless bother when someone was late, especially when said person is supposed to be Pencilio's assistant.

"I'll leave you to keep this place organized, Suzy. I'll try to find Paris-pen."

In the distance, you could hear footsteps. The frequent tapping of the shoes hitting the floor made it pretty evident that whoever had been coming, was in a bit of a rush. "S-Sorry!" a feminine voice shouted alongside the footsteps. As she came into view, the panic on her face was evident. It was Paris, the newly hired assistant of Pencilio.

Droplets of sweat crawled down her temples as she rushed to Pencilio's side. "I-I'm sorry I'm late, Commodore Pencilio!" She shouted, "Lady Roselia wanted to have a word with me! S-She had something important she wanted to discuss and, and I lost track of time!" Paris bowed her head, "Forgive me!"

"Oh, there you are. No problem, Paris-pen." Pencilio's anticipation seemingly whithered away, as he moved to his desk. "Mind bringing me the more recent Underworld documents? We need to read through them for today's report to the Rear Admirals and above ranks."

As Pencilio requested those items, he began to take out a pen and paper, spinning the pen in multiple directions to gather concentration.

Paris panicked. She nodded her head, "Y-yes sir!" Looking to her left and right, she truly didn't know what to grab. Pencilio's office was in so much of a mess, that it somehow appeared to be clean and to Pencilio, it was probably organized.

Reaching to the nearest stack of vanilla folders, specifically, the one labeled "Underworld", she grabbed them and walked them over to Pen's table. Nearly tripping just steps before getting to his table, she shook frantically when she utilized his table to keep her balance up.

Paris had a lot on her mind. From what Roselia told her, the reason Roselia had done it, and most recent achievement of giving up her ability to swim for the powers of a devil fruit. As a nervous girl already, this just made her stress even further and she didn't know what to do.

"H-Here you go!" She placed the stack of documents onto his table and walked back a bit awaiting further orders.

"If something is wrong, you can tell us, Paris-pen." Pencilio noted as he continued to sift through the files granted to him. "I know you are new to the position, and are probably wondering why I asked you specifically to be another assistant of mine. Not to mention, you are always somewhat nervous..." Pencilio realized that he was probably making Paris feel more uncomfortable as he spoke. Emotional connections were never particularly his forte.

"Maybe Suzy might help you more than me. Um...I apologize if I made you feel bad." Pencilio stuttered awkwardly, trying to instead hone in on the remaining work he had.

"Oh no no no!" Paris exclaimed, throwing her hand up into the air as if she were in a classroom. "I'm fine. I mean, there's nothing work pestering you about Pen-san! Today, t-today it's just my anxiety! Too much to take in. Then Lady Roselia, then devil fruits, it's just all gotten me so worked up!" Paris threw her hand over her mouth.

"Please, sir! I can keep working as note-, oh! L-lady Roselia told me to pass something on to you." Paris reached into her pockets. She then began to pat her body frantically, but seemingly came up empty-handed. Had she lost it? "Um," she hesitated, reaching into her pocket once more. "It was pertaining to the U-underworld... Yeah! A trade between Yonko crews. Sorry Pen-san, I can't remember exactly who."

"Hmmm. A trade between Yonko crew...this might be something we need to look into." Pencilio thought to himself, as he waited for Paris to bring out the item.

"And, uh...okay. As long as you are alright, Paris-pen." Pencilio mentioned to her anxiety, although his only concern at the moment was Roselia's information.

While Pencilio spoke to Paris, she continued to look for the paper and among the time managed to find it. Unfolding it with haste she looked at Pencilio. "Please, Pen-san, I'd like to read the information from the note, as it contains something sort of personal to myself."

This was not the fact, however. Because Paris covered the note with the palm of her hand, the note was drenched in a sticky substance--honey. She didn't want Pencilio to know she had a devil fruit just yet and on top of that, she didn't want the man to know she had no control over it just yet.

Without letting the man even respond, she began to read from it. "U-um, an unnamed member of the Monk Pirates and rookie pirate protected by the Titans, Dragon D. Dexter, plan on meeting for the purchase of what is reported to be a devil fruit." These were not the exact words on the note, but Paris felt it would be better to paraphrase it and save the man some time. "Take it Dexter is known to have been searching for the Ope Ope no Mi, this may be that. Even if it isn't, there are other possibilities..."

"Um, Pen-san. Is this the young rappe-, I mean musician, Dexter? If so, how is he allowed to preform on islands with a 90,000,000 on his head?"

"Stage names. Bribery. A lot of tomfoolery goes down in the musical industry." Pencilio stated blankly, as he listened to the news that Paris spoke of. While Paris reading the news herself didn't necessarily bother him, he did think something might be afoot, though he paid it no mind.

"Anything that gets these people money is fair game. Until the world realizes what is going on, nothing will particularly change about the music industry. If you make an effort to not buy the music of Pirates, then perhaps they will no longer seek employment." Pencilio said, almost scornfully, "Nonetheless. We have to do something about this situation, especially if the Ope Ope no Mi is involved."

"Y-yes sir!" Paris brought her hand to her forehead to salute. As she did she noticed a liquidy substance beginning to drop from it. Quickly dropping her hand back to her side, she face Pencilio once more.

"W-wait, Pen-san. Would you like for me to extend our concerns out to Kurama-sama and co.? Considering the situation and all?"

"Sweat...? No..." Pencilio thought to himself for a moment, before snapping out of it. "No, it is fine. Kurama-pen and the Vice Admiral-penpai's are all busy with the Xros Pirates' war. We will have to do something ourselves. Not to mention, I have connections to the Underworld, regardless..."

"So, what should we do first, Pen-san?" Paris' voice changed a bit. The timid tone she once had, seemed to have slightly slipped away as she spoke with a little more confidence.

"Lady Roselia spoke with haste and mentioned this with urgency. There was a reason she wanted me to ensure I relayed this message to you know." Paris looked at the ceiling with attempts of gathering her thoughts. "Oh! Pen-san! That deal, it's supposed to be happening in a couple of hours! Not too far from here, on a small deserted island called Roma.

Fruitville Station
Near the bay of Roma, the sound of an engine could be heard in the distance. A hooded figure rode the waves on what appeared to be a. He swung around the waves with haste, circling around the edges of Roma until he finally reached what used to be the docks. Pulling back on the handlebar and throttle, the front of the jetski lifted off the water. To someone who'd been watching him ride, they'd have thought it was the force of powerful winds out today, but it was all the figure's doing.

What the winds did affect was the sea's current, as the being would soon find out. Looking behind him, he'd noticed a large wave towering behind him. With another tug at the handlebars, the jetski lifted off of the sea into the air and soared over the destroyed dock area.

Pressing a button on the center of the mobile, he leaped off it and flipped in the air and so did the jetski. While the two flipped, the jetski would begin to change its entire form. First, it would sort of flatten itself. Then, from the bottom, two wheels of a bike would burst from the bottom. It's once bulky form, because slim. Something like this was only common in robots, no wait, transformers!

It would begin to fall towards the ground and as it did, its form became whole. The jet ski had somehow managed to transform from a jet ski to some sort of two-wheeled motor vehicle. The hooded figured fell to the ground, but instead of planting his feet on the soil, he instead landed upon the motorbike. Stamping his butt onto the seat of it, the added weight cause it to forcefully land to the ground and there was when one would be able to see the vehicle in all its glory. The jet ski had managed to transform into a bike.

The main body of the dirt bike was the exact same color as the jet ski, a bleached purple with gold trimming and all metal portions painted gold. On the front of the mask of the bike, was the image of a mohawked jolly roger.

He pulled on the thruster of the back, spinning his wheels against the soil of the dock. He'd go on to continuously do this until his back wheel would begin to move wildly, forcing him to try a wrestle with the handlebars in attempts to keep the bike up. In the midst of doing this, the wind managed to remove his hood from his head, revealing a dark-skinned teen wearing a spiked mohawk hairstyle.

Dragon D. Dexter was the name of this teen and today, he had a very important business to attend to. Lifting his left leg up to one of the foot rests, Dexter revealed writing along the side of the bike. "Law", was the name of Dexter's dirt bike. Underneath that largely written name, in small text was "Manufactured by Ships at Sea Inc."

"It's been a while since I've been able to ride Law." Dexter scuffed, throwing his hood back over his head. "Considering I paid so much for it to be made by Benjamin himself, I should ride dis' damn thing more. But to be honest," he pulled on the thruster once more reving the engine and allowing the back wheel to flail once again, "at over three hundred million berri, it should ride its fuckin' self."

Pulling on the thruster one last time, Dexter shot forth down the path. "But something more important is happening today..."

In the depts of Roma's underground train station, a group of men stood. Not every one of them was known, but there were quite a few faces that seemed to stand out. One, in particular, was a man of tan skin and short messy hair, his most noticeable trait was the scar on the side of his face. Scarface was his name or at least the name he was known by in the.

Each man and woman here sat in front of a single large desk, which nearly filled an entire side of the subway. Scarface eyed each of the individuals there, but his gaze seemed to have been stuck on the small child at the other end of the table. She wore a large jacket with a hood that had bear ears attached to it. "Is she, really here alone?" He glanced to her left and right but saw no one standing there.

He knew every person here had a trade they'd been here to perform, but he just couldn't wrap his finger around what that little girl had to offer. What he did know, was that the girl's name was Gia. Slouching back in his chair and pressing his fist against his cheek, Scarface loosened up a bit. Honestly, he shouldn't have been worrying about what everyone else was doing. Today would be the day he'd revolutionize the world.

"AHH I CAN'T WAIT ANY LONGER!" One of the brokers shouted. "Until we wait for our purchasers to get here, how about we go ahead and share what we have." Reaching to his side, the man placed a devil fruit onto the table.

"My name is Gerald! This here, is an artificial devil fruit my people of tha' Yaju Tribe are working on. We call it the Ryu Ryu no Mi, Model: Indominus Rex! The possibilities of this fruit are end-"

Before he could finish, his forehead had a hole in the center of it. The entire group looked at the man as his body fell backwards. "There were specific rules given to each of you, right? The main being no exposure of items until the first buyer appeared." Scarface held a pistol out in front of himself, extending it across the table aiming where the man once stood.

"Now that we've gotten that understood. We can wait." The shadow from Scarface's arm stretched across the table, grabbing ahold of the devil fruit's shadow and would then be pulled towards the man.

"Hazezezeze...As brutal as always, aren't you...Scarface~?" A cheeky laugh came from another side of the same table. He stared at Scarface in the eye, unwilling to give an inch to the supposedly superior party. "But hey, I like it! Never giving even a moment's reprieve, and not allowing anyone to shift under your rules. It's amusing, hazezeze...Although, after a while...isn't it a little boring~?"

The confrontational man in the room wore spectacles, and had a head of black, and partially white hair. Identified by the title "Four-Eyes", he was an informant who worked for the Monk Pirates within the Underworld, acting on numerous transactions for their behalf when "Payback" Parker was not able to. Today, it was his turn to do a bit of wheeling and dealing, and he relished in the opportunity, as he eyed the rest of his competition keenly.