The sun was setting peacefully over Cocoyasi Village, casting a warm orange glow across the tangerine groves. Beneath the shade of a large tree, a group of local children were gathered around a wooden picnic table, completely transfixed by their brand-new toy: Celestial Dragon Whack-A-Mole.
“Take that, Saint Charlos!” a young boy cheered, slamming down the red plastic mallet. The toy gave a satisfying SNAP sound effect as the tiny, bubble-helmeted figure retreated into the blue console. The kids erupted into giggles, completely absorbed in the joy of liberating the virtual world.
Suddenly, the light was blocked out. A long, looming shadow stretched across the grass, accompanied by a slow, agonizingly relaxed drawl. “Ohhh… what a fascinating little toy you’ve got there…”
The children froze. Standing over them, clad in a brilliant yellow striped suit and a marine coat slung over his shoulders, was Admiral Kizaru. He had absolutely nothing better to do today—patrol duty in the East Blue was notoriously boring—so he leaned down, squinting through his tinted sunglasses at the colorful box.
“Celestial Dragon Whack-A-Mole…?” Kizaru stroked his chin, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. “My, my… that’s quite a dangerous objective. Hitting the World Nobles? I’m afraid… I’ll have to confiscate this. For global security, you see.”
He casually lifted the entire game console with one finger. The children immediately erupted into unhappy groans and protests. “Hey! Give it back! We were having fun!”
“Now, now, don’t look at me like that,” Kizaru said facetiously, raising his hands in mock defense. “If you like the game so much, why don’t we just play a different version? A much better version. Instead of hitting the gentle World Nobles, you can whack the Straw Hats… or perhaps the Worst Generation? Sound fun?”
A fierce little girl at the front of the group stamped her foot, her eyes flashing with rebellion. “No way! The Straw Hats are heroes! Pirates are the good guys!”
Kizaru tilted his head, his lips curling into a sarcastic, exaggerated pout. “Ohhh? Pirates are the good guys? My, what a fascinating education you have here in the East Blue. Tell me, little one… what about the Arlong Pirates?”
The entire group went dead silent. The heavy memory of Arlong’s decade-long tyranny still hung over Cocoyasi. The children shifted uncomfortably, their fierce expressions faltering.
“Well… okay,” the girl muttered doubtingly, looking down at her shoes. “Arlong and his crew… they were the bad guys. But the others are good!”
“Are they really?” Kizaru droned, his tone dripping with patronizing amusement. “Let’s think about that. What about Gecko Moria’s Thriller Bark Pirates, stealing people’s shadows and trapping them in darkness? Or the Kuro Pirates, who plotted to slaughter an entire village for money? Oh, and let’s not forget the Don Krieg Pirates, who use poison gas on anyone they see.”
The kids began exchanging worried, uncertain glances. Kizaru wasn’t done. He leaned in closer, his smile widening slightly.
“Then there are the Beast Pirates… who turned Wano into a polluted wasteland of starvation. And, of course, the Donquixote Pirates… who ran a horrific underground slave and weapon market, using children for toxic chemical experiments on Punk Hazard. Ouch… sounds dreadful, doesn't it?”
The child who had spoken up was now completely filled with doubt. Her worldview was fracturing. Desperate to defend her stance, she started rattling off other names she’d heard from the news, trying to find a counterexample.
“B-but… what about the Buggy Pirates? Or the Kid Pirates?” She paused, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember the rumors. “Wait… where do the Baroque Works fall under all of this? Were they pirates or…?”
“Ah, Crocodile’s little group,” Kizaru murmured, thoroughly enjoying the confusion he was causing.
Trying to shift the focus away from pirates entirely, another boy in the back piped up. “Well, what about CP9? I heard they did scary things in Water 7! They’re bad guys too, right?”
“Oh, CP9?” Kizaru waved a hand dismissively, his brain on autopilot from pure boredom. “Oh, don’t worry about them. They’re on our side. They work for the World Govern—”
Kizaru froze. His sentence trailed off into the sea breeze.
The words hung heavily in the air. They’re on our side.
The children’s expressions instantly shifted. The doubt vanished, replaced by a sudden, icy wave of scorn. They realized exactly who CP9 worked for, and exactly who Kizaru was protecting. A dozen pairs of eyes narrowed into a fierce, collective glare, radiating pure hostility at the towering Admiral.
Kizaru stared back down at them through his sunglasses, realizing his mistake a second too late. END.