As Aramaki introduced himself, his body suddenly began shifting—his arms stiffening, his legs rooting slightly into the ground. Bark-like textures spread along his skin, and leaves sprouted from his head.
"W-What's happening to me?! Am I turning into a tree?!" he shouted, panicking as he struggled to move. "Am I gonna be stuck like this forever?!"
"Stop panicking," Koa said calmly, his voice steady but firm. "That's just the power of the Devil Fruit you ate."
"What… what do you mean?" Aramaki froze, still halfway transformed, now looking at Koa in confusion.
"It's a Devil Fruit ability," Koa explained, stepping closer. "You've become a Logia user. That means you can manipulate, become, and control an element—yours just happens to be plants. Think about turning back into a human. Focus on it."
Aramaki, still wide-eyed, nodded. He closed his eyes and focused, imagining himself in his original form. After a few moments of intense concentration, the bark receded, the leaves withered, and he fully returned to his human form, breathing heavily but finally calm.
"How… how do you know all that?" Aramaki asked, genuinely curious—and a bit intimidated. He was still shaken by the transformation, and the confidence in Koa's voice made it clear that this man knew far more than he let on.
"Well, because I can do this," Koa replied casually. He raised his right fist—and with a slow, deliberate motion, brought it crashing down on the ground.
BOOM!
The impact exploded outward like a shockwave. Cracks spiderwebbed across the earth in every direction as a massive tremor tore through the terrain. Despite holding back significantly, Koa's punch devastated over 100 meters of land in a single instant. Dust, debris, and splintered earth flew through the air.
Aramaki was frozen in shock. His jaw dropped as he stared at the crater, eyes wide.
This wasn't just strength. It was something terrifying. Godlike.
"I want to be like that," Aramaki said under his breath. Then louder, clearer: "Please… let me follow you. Take me under your wing, boss."
Koa raised an eyebrow. "Why would I do that?"
He was tempted—after all, Aramaki was someone of great potential. But he also knew the man Aramaki would eventually become: ruthless, indifferent to civilians, someone who served power above all. Koa wasn't going to take risks, not with the kingdom he planned to build.
"I don't know," Aramaki admitted, meeting Koa's gaze. "But I want to become strong—strong enough to do whatever I want, and not be stopped by anyone."
Koa didn't reply at first. He simply stared at the boy, his Observation Haki gently brushing against the boy's presence. It was raw and unpolished, but there was no trace of deception in his words. Still…
"If that's your reason, then I'm afraid I can't accept you," Koa said, turning his back and beginning to walk away. "I don't want anyone who'll harm innocent people walking beside me."
Aramaki clenched his fists. His heart pounded in his chest. For a moment, he hesitated—then dropped to his knees and bowed deeply, his forehead pressing into the dirt.
"I won't! I promise I'll never hurt innocent people! Only those you point me toward! I'll do whatever it takes—please, just give me a chance!"
Koa paused mid-step. Slowly, he turned around, his gaze falling on the boy who now groveled in the dirt with complete sincerity.
The air grew cold. Koa's presence shifted—his aura darkened.
"I'll give you one chance," Koa said slowly, his voice like steel. "But if you ever betray me… I'll kill you myself."
Aramaki gulped. The intent in Koa's eyes was real. He nodded quickly, his forehead still to the ground. "I understand, boss. I won't let you down."
The killing intent vanished in an instant, and Koa's usual calm demeanor returned.
"From now on, you won't be called Aramaki," Koa said. "You'll be Greenbull. Remember that name."
Aramaki—no, Greenbull—lifted his head, stunned. A new name… a new identity. One unshackled from the past he hated. For the first time, he felt something stir in his chest—something like hope.
"Yes, boss!" he said, grinning.
Koa smiled faintly. His crew—his kingdom—had just gained its first soldier.
------------
Koa made his way back toward the plaza, scanning the shops thoughtfully. He couldn't let Greenbull—Aramaki walk around looking like some scruffy street urchin, not when he was now officially part of his crew. Image mattered, especially for the people who would represent the foundation of the kingdom Koa envisioned.
He stopped by a few stores, picking out simple but quality clothes: everyday wear suited for travel, two pairs of sturdy shoes, and even a hat—something Greenbull had mentioned wanting. It wasn't flashy or expensive, but it was the first time someone had ever thought about what Aramaki might want, not just what he needed.
When Koa returned and handed over the bags, Greenbull didn't speak. He just held them close, arms wrapped around the items as if they might vanish. These weren't stolen. No, these were given. It was the first time in his life that he owned something honestly. And though he didn't say a word, his wide eyes and tight grip spoke volumes.
Koa then rented a hotel room nearby, choosing one with a private bathhouse attached. Greenbull wrinkled his nose in protest when Koa told him to get cleaned up.
"I'm not even that dirty," he muttered.
"You smell like you've been living in a trash heap," Koa shot back flatly. "You said you'd follow my orders, right?"
Greenbull pouted but relented. "Tch… fine."
He disappeared into the bathhouse, grumbling under his breath. But when he came out—clean, scrubbed, and wearing the new clothes—he looked like a completely different person. Still the same kid, but no longer invisible to the world. He had presence now. Purpose.
Afterward, Koa took him to a restaurant near the port. It wasn't fancy, but the place was popular and the food smelled amazing. As they entered, Greenbull hesitated for a second before following Koa to a table. He'd passed by this restaurant countless times, hearing the laughter and chatter of diners, catching whiffs of the delicious meals being served—but never once had he been able to afford a bite.
Now he sat at a table with a full menu in front of him.
"Order anything you want," Koa said, casually flipping through his own menu.
Greenbull's eyes widened. "Anything?"
"Anything," Koa confirmed.
And so, he did.
Dish after dish began piling up. Noodles, grilled meats, soup, skewers, steamed buns, desserts—the plates kept coming, and Greenbull kept eating. At first, he devoured everything with the hunger of a starving animal. But somewhere in the middle of his second bowl of ramen, something strange happened.
Tears began to fall down his cheeks.
He didn't notice them at first. He was too busy eating, too focused on savoring every bite. But the tears kept coming, falling silently as he continued to shovel food into his mouth.
Koa watched silently from across the table. He recognized the moment.
It reminded him of when Ginny, Ivankov, and Kuma had first joined the Roger Pirates. He remembered how their faces were buried in plates of food, how they cried between bites—not from pain, but from relief. From finally tasting what it felt like to be seen, fed, cared for.
The rest of the Roger Pirates had understood. They hadn't said anything. They just let them cry.
And now, here was Greenbull. Crying in silence, plate after plate in front of him, living a moment he never thought he'd have.
Koa didn't interrupt. He didn't comment.
He just leaned back in his seat, folded his arms, and let the boy cry into his food.