One Piece: Shiro Oni

Two days had passed since Noir decided to begin rehabilitating the three women. In that time, their progress, while slow, was steady. Mizuki, Fubuki, and Yuki had started speaking, albeit in halting, childlike sentences. Each word was carefully pronounced, as though the act of forming sentences was foreign to them.

"I… eat… more?" Mizuki asked, her voice unsure but filled with determination. She pointed at the roasted meat Noir had prepared.

"Good. Keep practicing," Noir said, handing her a second serving without complaint.

The women's physical condition had yet to improve significantly, but Noir made sure their meals were plentiful. The animals he hunted—large boars, lizards—provided meat that was both rich in nutrients and energy. With the combination of generous portions and regular eating, their skeletal frames were slowly beginning to fill out.

"Eat more," Noir encouraged as he glanced at Yuki, who was nibbling timidly on her portion. "You won't get anywhere if you only peck at your food like a bird."

Yuki nodded, her long, disheveled blonde hair swaying as she took a larger bite, her brown eyes filled with silent determination.

Fubuki, sitting beside her, was more vocal, though her words were still crude and fragmented. "Meat… good. More!"

"You've already had three helpings," Noir said with a smirk. "But fine. Eat as much as you want. You'll need the strength."

The afternoon sunlight poured over the camp as Noir looked at the group, a thought forming in his mind. The women's hair, wild and unruly from months of neglect, would soon become a hindrance.

"If we're going to start physical training tomorrow," Noir began, his crimson eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "we need to do something about your hair. It's too long and messy. You'll just get it caught on something."

The women exchanged glances, clearly not understanding what he meant.

"I'm cutting your hair," Noir clarified, standing and motioning for them to follow him.

Ihwa, who had been leaning lazily against a tree, perked up. "Cutting their hair? You know how to do that?"

"No," Noir said bluntly, picking up a knife. "But it's not rocket science."

Ihwa smirked, crossing her arms. "This'll be fun to watch."

**************

Noir had set up a simple workstation—a flat log serving as a makeshift stool—and began his task. Fubuki was the first to sit, her dark green hair hanging limply around her thin shoulders.

"Don't move," Noir ordered, his tone firm but not unkind.

Fubuki flinched slightly but obeyed, sitting as still as her trembling body would allow. With precise movements, Noir began trimming her hair. Despite his lack of experience, his natural dexterity and keen eye for detail shone through.

The knife glided through the strands with surprising ease, and within minutes, Fubuki's hair had transformed into a chin-length bob with a neatly styled fringe.

"There. Done," Noir said, stepping back to inspect his work.

Fubuki touched her hair cautiously, her fingers tracing the clean lines. "Short… good," she said, her voice filled with newfound confidence.

Next was Yuki. Her long blonde hair was a challenge, but Noir managed to trim it while keeping its length intact, framing her face with two tufts on each side.

"Better," Noir muttered as he stepped back. "You don't look like a wild animal anymore."

Yuki nodded silently, her brown eyes shimmering with something resembling gratitude.

Mizuki was third. Noir tied her dark orange hair into a high ponytail, securing it with a scrunchie he had salvaged from one of the crates. The style highlighted her determined purple eyes.

"Practical," Noir said simply, handing her a small mirror.

Mizuki's lips curled into the faintest smile as she stared at her reflection.

Finally, it was Ihwa's turn. She plopped down on the stool with an exaggerated sigh. "Go on, make me pretty, oh mighty stylist."

Noir smirked but didn't rise to the bait. "Your hair's fine as it is. Just needs a trim."

With a few quick snips, Ihwa's long silver-white hair was refreshed, the ends evened out to maintain its natural elegance.

As Noir finished the last cut, a familiar notification appeared in his vision.

[A new skill is created due to a particular action.]

[Through continuously applying precise movements and artistic judgment, the skill 'Haircutting' has been created.]

[Haircutting]

[Rank: D]

[Description: A skill created through the methodical practice of cutting and styling hair. allowing the user to expertly trim, style, and manage hair. Though simple in concept, this skill can enhance the appearance and morale of individuals, even in survival situations. Higher proficiency may lead to the ability to perform advanced haircuts and styles with precision, even using makeshift tools.]

[Skill Proficiency: 0.00%]

Noir blinked at the notification before shaking his head. "A skill for cutting hair? Really?"

Ihwa, noticing his distraction, leaned closer. "What's with the face? Did you mess up?"

"No," Noir said, setting the knife down. "It's fine. You're all set."

***************

As the group sat around the fire that evening, their moods were noticeably lighter. Mizuki, Yuki, and Fubuki couldn't stop touching their newly cut hair, marveling at the difference it made. Even Ihwa seemed more playful than usual.

"You know," Ihwa said, her voice teasing, "for someone who claims not to care, you've got a surprisingly delicate touch, Noir."

"Don't get used to it," Noir replied, leaning back against the tree with his arms crossed.

"Too late," Ihwa shot back with a grin.

Noir sighed, closing his eyes. "Get some sleep. Training starts tomorrow, and I'm not going easy on any of you."

As the fire crackled and the stars began to emerge, the group slowly drifted into a peaceful silence. Noir watched over them, his crimson eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

'One step at a time,' he thought, his gaze softening briefly before returning to its usual sharpness.

****************

"Haaaa, who would've thought fixing a boat wasn't as easy as in the movies," Noir muttered to himself. Shirtless, he leaned back, observing the two slightly larger boats with single sails. While there wasn't any room for sleeping quarters, Noir realized the boats were spacious enough to serve as both a food storage area and a small makeshift kitchen.

He had started repairing the boats as soon as his left arm had fully recovered. After all, he had no intention of staying on this island any longer than necessary. The four women he had trained and rehabilitated were now healthy, their figures restored to their original, almost model-like forms. They had even taken to teasing Noir openly, but despite their blatant attempts, Noir remained disinterested.

As for his system, Noir had turned off notifications weeks ago because he found them distracting. However, out of curiosity, he checked it again and noticed something had changed. His status now displayed that he had "Awakened," which explained why he felt significantly stronger than before his fight with Gary. Along with the Awakening, he had gained three bonus skills and other abilities acquired during the battle.

'All that's left now is to pack my things and set sail,' Noir thought as he made his way back to the camp. Two weeks had passed since the fight with Gary, during which Noir had come dangerously close to death. The women, however, had made remarkable progress. They no longer resembled the broken figures he had found; instead, they now exuded vitality, their appearances bordering on the absurdly attractive physiques typical of characters in anime like One Piece.

Noir couldn't help but shake his head at how unrealistic their transformations were. Within just one week, their gaunt bodies had started to fill out, and by the second, they had fully regained their former beauty. In the real world, such a recovery might have taken months, even with proper nutrition and care. But in this world, with its exaggerated logic, everything seemed accelerated—especially with the highly nutritious food he provided.

Noir hadn't taught them martial arts, only the basics of self-defense and rigorous physical training to strengthen their bodies. The reason was simple: Noir had no intention of turning them into fighters. His goal was to set sail and become a pirate himself—not necessarily as a captain, but as someone pursuing the mystery of the One Piece.

Unlike most, Noir wasn't chasing the legendary treasure for its material value. He doubted it was simply gold or riches. Instead, he believed it was something far more profound, capable of driving countless individuals to risk everything for it. He also knew that the "straw hat boy" was seeking it too. 'What could it be?' Noir wondered, his curiosity driving him forward.

"Hmm? Did they pack up and leave already?" Noir muttered as he approached the now-empty camp. It was spotless, with no trace of the four women. The eerie silence made him pause, but he quickly brushed off the thought.

'Well, they deserve to live normal lives anyway,' Noir mused, shrugging as he adjusted the suit he had prepared earlier.

His outfit consisted of a sleek black shirt, white pants, polished black shoes, and a white blazer. It was a surprisingly sophisticated ensemble for a man preparing to sail into uncertainty. He had stumbled upon the outfit while exploring the forest, discovering an old suitcase tucked away near a tree. Inside was a note that simply read: "For you, as thanks for taking your second chance in life."

The suitcase had contained more than just all his clothes in his previous life. Alongside his favorite silver zippo lighter and a stash of cigarettes, Noir found black boots, dress shoes, a sharp pair of sunglasses, and several women's outfits—exactly what he needed for the four women he had saved.

Now fully dressed and carrying his belongings, Noir made his way toward the boats. However, as he approached, he noticed something odd. Standing in front of one of the boats were the four women, each holding a small bag of their belongings. Their new clothes contrasted sharply with the rags they had worn before. They looked confident and composed, nothing like the broken individuals he had first encountered.

Noir raised an eyebrow, confusion evident on his face. "What are you all doing here? Some kind of farewell gesture?"

Yuki, standing at the forefront, stepped forward. Her sleeveless, indigo martial artist-inspired top paired with high-waisted stone-blue jeans gave her an aura of quiet determination. She met Noir's gaze firmly. "Noir, you haven't forgotten, have you? You tattooed your clan emblem on our backs."

Noir raised an eyebrow, recalling the makeshift tattoos he had given them. The purpose of the tattoos was to cover or remove the slave symbols on their backs, and that was what they asked for. "Of course, I haven't forgotten. Do I look like the kind of person who'd lose his memory that easily?" he replied flatly.

"And we have nowhere else to go," Ihwa added softly, stepping beside Yuki. Her open red jacket fluttered slightly in the breeze as her silver-white hair framed her delicate features. She smiled faintly. "We've lost everything… and everyone."

Noir's jaw tightened. He knew exactly where this was heading, but he asked anyway. "So, you're telling me… you want to come with me?"

Fubuki strode forward, a confident smirk on her lips. Her long white fur coat and dark green, form-fitting dress accentuated her sharp features. "You should be grateful, Noir," she said, her tone laced with playful arrogance. "Not only is my body yours, but so is my loyalty. Wherever you go, I'll follow."

Mizuki stepped up next, practically bouncing with excitement. Her tight blue spandex top and shorts displayed her athletic figure, and the initials "MZK" emblazoned on her clothing reflected her carefree nature. "I don't have a home either, so I'm tagging along! Easy choice, right?"

Noir sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his patience began to fray. "You've got to be kidding me… I wasted all that time fixing the other boat just so I could sail alone, and now—" He stopped himself, realizing he wasn't going to win this argument.

As Noir began to climb aboard the small boat, he glanced back. The four women remained rooted in place, their gazes cast downward, as if unsure whether they had overstepped.

He let out a long, tired sigh before waving them over. "What are you waiting for? Get on already."

The relief on their faces was instantaneous. Fubuki was the first to move, a triumphant grin spreading across her face as she motioned for the others to follow. "Don't regret this, Noir," she teased.

"And you," Noir added sharply, pointing at Fubuki as she stepped onto the boat. "Use that telekinesis of yours to haul the rest of my stuff. You ate that weird fruit a week ago; might as well put it to good use."

Fubuki rolled her eyes but complied. A faint blue aura shimmered around her body as the remaining supplies on the dock—barrels, crates, and bundles—began to levitate and float toward the boat.

"I said I was sorry for eating it without knowing what it was," she muttered, her tone defensive yet amused. "But look, it worked out. I've got powers now."

Noir watched as the items hovered neatly into place. "Convenient," he admitted begrudgingly, lighting a cigarette as he leaned against the mast.

Once everyone was aboard, Noir took a moment to look over the group.

Fubuki's refined attire—her fur coat, high collar dress, and thigh-high boots—gave her a regal air, though her mischievous smirk ruined the illusion of nobility.

Yuki, with her martial-artist-inspired indigo top and high-waisted jeans, looked like she was ready for a fight, though her calm demeanor suggested otherwise.

Mizuki, ever the cheerful one, adjusted her blue spandex top and track shorts, her energy practically radiating off her as she darted around the boat to find a seat.

And Ihwa… Noir's gaze softened ever so slightly as he took in her relaxed posture, her red jacket draped loosely over her shoulders. She was the only one who didn't seem fazed by his earlier irritation, leaning against the railing with a serene expression.

"Alright," Noir said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Let's get one thing clear. You're coming with me, but this isn't a pleasure cruise. There's work to be done, and you're going to pull your weight."

The women nodded in unison, though Fubuki couldn't resist adding, "As long as we don't have to fix the boat again."

Noir shot her a glare. "You're already on thin ice."

With that, he turned his attention to the open sea, gripping the wheel as the small boat began to drift away from the island.

**************

The night sky stretched endlessly above the small boat, its surface shimmering with countless stars. The gentle lapping of the waves against the hull filled the otherwise quiet evening. Noir sat at the stern, one arm resting casually on the edge of the boat as he gazed out at the open sea. His other hand absently stroked Ihwa's hair, her silver-white locks spilling like a cascade over his lap.

Ihwa had claimed his lap as her favorite seat for the journey, leaning against his chest with a contented sigh. Her hands idly played with the hem of her jacket as she murmured, "You don't seem so annoyed tonight, Noir."

Noir glanced down at her, smirking faintly. "Don't push it. I'm just too tired to argue."

Their moment of peace was interrupted by a low, rumbling noise. At first, Noir thought it was the waves, but when it repeated—louder this time—he frowned. He tilted his head, realizing the sound wasn't coming from the sea, but from Ihwa's stomach.

Ihwa flushed slightly, her hands moving to cover her abdomen. "I didn't think it'd be this loud…"

Before Noir could respond, another growl echoed from Mizuki, who was leaning against the opposite railing. Then from Fubuki. And finally, Yuki. Each sound was more insistent than the last, a chorus of hunger that made Noir pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Are all of you starving to death at the same time?" he asked, exasperated. His own stomach rumbled in agreement, betraying him.

"We're not the only ones," Fubuki quipped, smirking. "Seems like our fearless leader is just as hungry."

Noir sighed, carefully moving Ihwa off his lap as he stood. "First of all I'm not a captain and also I'm looking for someone interesting, and Fine. Stay here. I'll handle it."

He made his way to the small kitchen, which was little more than a narrow corner of the boat with a crude stove and a few shelves for supplies. It wasn't much, but Noir had made it work.

Noir reached into a large crate and pulled out slabs of boar meat—thick cuts with marbled fat. From another container, he retrieved a handful of fish they'd caught earlier in the day, their scales still glistening under the dim lantern light. He laid the ingredients out on the wooden counter, surveying his options.

His hand moved next to a small spice box. Though the pirates' stash had been limited, Noir had salvaged enough to create something decent: salt, black pepper, garlic powder, paprika, and a handful of dried herbs.

He began with the boar meat, slicing each piece into uniform steaks. The knife glided through the flesh with practiced ease, revealing the rich red interior. Once the steaks were ready, Noir reached for the spices, sprinkling a generous amount of salt and pepper over both sides. Then, he added a touch of paprika for smokiness and garlic powder for depth.

Rubbing the spices into the meat with his fingers, he ensured every cut was coated evenly. His movements were precise, almost surgical, as though he were crafting a masterpiece.

Next, he turned his attention to the fish. He scaled each one with quick, deft strokes of his knife, the silver flakes falling away like tiny shards of light. Once cleaned, he scored the sides with shallow cuts, allowing the seasonings to penetrate the flesh. A mix of salt, lemon juice, and dried herbs was massaged into the fish, filling the air with a fresh, zesty aroma.

Noir set both the boar steaks and fish aside, letting the flavors meld while he prepared the stove. He lit the small fire, adjusting the flame until it burned steady and hot. From a nearby shelf, he grabbed a cast-iron skillet, placing it over the heat until it began to smoke lightly.

First came the boar steaks. Noir drizzled a small amount of oil into the skillet, the liquid spreading and shimmering almost instantly. He placed the steaks in one by one, the sizzling sound sharp and satisfying. The aroma of searing meat quickly filled the air, drawing curious glances from the women outside.

Noir used tongs to press each steak gently against the skillet, ensuring a perfect sear. After a minute or two, he flipped them, revealing beautifully caramelized surfaces. The fat sizzled and crackled, releasing even more flavor into the pan.

As the steaks cooked, Noir basted them with their own rendered fat, tilting the skillet and spooning the golden liquid over the meat. The rich, smoky scent was enough to make his own stomach growl again.

Once the steaks were done, he removed them from the pan, letting them rest on a wooden platter. Without wasting a moment, he cleaned the skillet and moved on to the fish.

The fish sizzled as they hit the hot pan, their skin crisping to a golden brown. Noir worked quickly, flipping them only once to avoid tearing the delicate flesh. He added a splash of oil infused with garlic and herbs, spooning the fragrant mixture over the fish as they cooked. The citrusy tang of the lemon combined with the savory herbs created a perfect balance.

Satisfied with his work, Noir plated the boar steaks and fish, arranging them on a large wooden serving tray. He added a garnish of freshly chopped herbs—parsley for brightness—and carried the feast out to the makeshift dining area.

The "table" was a repurposed wooden crate, surrounded by equally crude seating. Noir set the tray down with a thud, crossing his arms as he looked at the women.

"Eat," he ordered simply.

Their eyes lit up at the sight of the food, the aroma alone making their mouths water. Mizuki wasted no time, grabbing a steak and biting into it with enthusiasm. "This… so good!" she exclaimed, her words still slightly awkward but clear enough.

Fubuki leaned in closer to Noir as she took a bite of fish. "You know, Noir, I didn't expect you to be so… domestic. A man who can cook is quite attractive."

"Don't push your luck," Noir replied, his tone dry but not unkind.

Yuki, who had been nibbling quietly on her fish, suddenly leaned forward, holding out a piece of steak on her fork. "Noir… try?" she asked, her voice soft but insistent.

"I don't need to—" Noir began, but Yuki's pleading eyes stopped him. With a resigned sigh, he leaned forward and took a bite. The women burst into giggles, their playful teasing lightening the mood.

Even Ihwa, who usually stayed quiet during meals, joined in. She leaned against Noir's shoulder, her silver-white hair brushing against his arm. "Maybe we should make you cook every night," she said, her tone teasing.

"Maybe I'll throw all of you overboard," Noir shot back.

***************

The stars above the small boat shone brightly, reflecting on the gentle waves that lapped against its sides. Noir leaned against the railing at the edge of the deck, a half-empty bottle of sake in his hand and a cigarette lazily resting between his fingers. The soft glow of the moon bathed the ocean in silver light, creating a serene, almost dreamlike atmosphere.

Behind him, the women busied themselves with the dishes. Mizuki hummed an upbeat tune, her hands moving quickly as she scrubbed plates with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Clean, clean, clean!" she chanted, laughing when a bubble popped against her nose.

"Could you stop splashing everywhere?" Fubuki groaned, trying—and failing—to stay dry as Mizuki's antics sprayed water around the cramped space. "Honestly, do you even know how to wash dishes?"

Mizuki stuck out her tongue. "Better than you, Miss 'I'll Just Supervise!'"

Yuki leaned casually against the counter, drying a plate with a smirk. "Fubuki, you're complaining now, but I bet you're secretly enjoying this," she teased. "Admit it—you just like being bossy."

Fubuki's cheeks flushed as she crossed her arms. "Don't lump me in with you three. Some of us have standards."

Ihwa, who had been silently stacking the clean dishes, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Can you all just shut up and work? Noir's already ignoring us; no need to embarrass ourselves further." Despite her scolding tone, a faint smile played on her lips as she glanced at Noir's distant figure.

Noir let their chatter fade into the background as he took another swig of sake, the warm liquid burning pleasantly down his throat. His crimson eyes scanned the horizon, his expression unreadable. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, watching as it disappeared into the dark waters below.

"Just like old times…" he muttered under his breath, though the words carried no nostalgia—only a quiet resignation.

The creak of footsteps behind him caught his attention, but he didn't turn. He knew who it was without looking.

"You always hide out here after dinner," Ihwa's voice broke the silence, soft yet tinged with amusement. "What's so fascinating about the ocean, anyway?"

Noir exhaled a puff of smoke, the ember of his cigarette glowing faintly in the darkness. "It doesn't talk."

Ihwa rolled her eyes but settled beside him, leaning her back against the railing. "You say that like it's a bad thing." She glanced at the bottle in his hand. "Is that all you're going to do tonight? Drink and brood?"

"Pretty much," Noir replied, taking another sip.

Her silver-white hair caught the moonlight as she tilted her head to look at him. "You know, for someone who acts like he doesn't care, you've put a lot of effort into keeping us alive."

Noir shrugged. "I just don't like deadweight. You're all easier to deal with when you're not half-starved and useless."

Ihwa smirked, clearly unbothered by his bluntness. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

Noir shot her a glare but didn't bother correcting her. Instead, he pushed himself off the railing. "You done with the dishes?"

"Yeah, we finished," she said, stretching. "You going to bed, or are you planning to brood some more?"

Noir didn't answer, walking back toward the center of the boat where the others were already setting up their makeshift sleeping arrangements.

The small boat offered little in terms of comfort. With only the kitchen space below deck, the group had no choice but to sleep on the open deck, arranging themselves in a line. Noir claimed one end, laying down with his arms crossed behind his head. The women took up the rest of the space, their bedding haphazardly spread out.

Fubuki, true to form, was the first to start trouble. She adjusted her long white fur coat, lifting the hem of her dress just enough to reveal her thighs. "Comfortable, Noir?" she asked, her voice dripping with false innocence.

Noir didn't even look at her, lighting another cigarette. "You're going to catch a cold if you keep doing that."

Fubuki clicked her tongue in frustration, leaning back with a pout. "You're no fun."

Yuki, not one to be outdone, turned toward Noir with her signature grin. "What kind of girls do you like, Noir?"

Noir exhaled a cloud of smoke, his tone flat. "The kind that don't ask stupid questions."

Mizuki burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. "He got you good, Yuki!"

"Shut up, Mizuki!" Yuki snapped, though she couldn't hide her own laughter.

Ihwa, already curled up in her bedding, yawned loudly. "Can we all just go to sleep already? Noir's not going to fall for your tricks, no matter how hard you try."

The teasing finally died down, and the group settled into an uneasy quiet. The sound of the waves filled the silence as they drifted toward sleep.

As the night deepened, the women began whispering to each other. Noir, lying just within earshot, closed his eyes but didn't sleep.

"You think he's ever going to notice?" Mizuki asked, her voice barely above a murmur.

"Notice what?" Fubuki replied, though the knowing tone in her voice betrayed her.

"That we all love him," Yuki said bluntly.

The quiet that followed was heavy.

Ihwa's voice broke the silence. "He knows. He's just… Noir. He won't acknowledge it. Not in the way you're hoping."

Fubuki let out a frustrated sigh. "It's maddening. We've tried everything—teasing, flirting, even outright throwing ourselves at him. Nothing works."

"Maybe that's why we love him," Mizuki said, her tone surprisingly serious. "Because he's different. He's honest… even when it hurts."

"And terrifying," Yuki added, a wry smile in her voice. "Don't forget terrifying."

The group chuckled softly, their voices tinged with both fondness and exasperation.

"He's all we have," Ihwa said, her voice firm. "And that's enough for me."

Noir, still lying motionless at the edge of their conversation, let out a quiet sigh. He flicked the ash from his cigarette into the ocean, watching as it disappeared into the darkness.

'Annoying as hell,' he thought, 'But at least it won't be boring.'