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ASTER'S POV:-
I woke up because the room was too quiet.
Yesterday, the cottage had been full of noise. My father's laugh, his loud stories, the sound of my mother's real, bright laughter, it had been a new kind of world. Now, the silence was back. But it was an empty silence, not the full, happy quiet of yesterday afternoon.
I pushed my blanket off and crawled out of bed. The main room was empty. The early morning light, just beginning to turn the sky from gray to pale blue, spilled through the open door. They were gone.
I wasn't scared. Mom was strong. Dad was... Dad. But I was alone.
And then I felt it.
It wasn't a sound. It was a pull. A deep, low thump-thump that I felt in my chest, like a second, angry heartbeat inside my own. It was coming from outside, from the beach. It was calling.
I walked barefoot out the door, my eyes blinking against the cool morning air. I looked toward the beach. Mom wasn't there. Dad wasn't there. But the feeling was. It was stronger out here, a quiet, demanding throb pulling me toward the water.
I followed the pull, my golden eyes scanning the white sand.
There it was.
Lying on the sand, just above the waterline, was... a thing. It was a fruit, I thought, but it was unlike any fruit that grew in Mom's garden. It was a deep, obsidian black, the color of a stone put in a fire until it's charred and dead. It was covered in cracks, and inside those cracks, a sick, reddish-orange light pulsed. It was breathing. The light inside it was thump-thumping with the beat I felt in my chest. It was hot, and the sand all around it had turned dark and glassy, like it had been melted by its heat.
It looked wrong. It looked like something that had been pulled from the deep, dark place where the Sea Kings lived.
I was a quiet child, but I was not a scared one. I was curious. This was new. This was... strange.
I walked closer, stopping just a few feet away. The thrumming in my head got louder as I got closer. It wasn't just a beat anymore. It was a voice. It was a deep, old, angry whisper, sliding right into my mind.
...Found...
I tilted my head, listening. The voice wasn't coming from the air; it was inside my head.
...Vessel... Mine...
I took another step. I was close enough to touch it now. The heat coming off it was real, warming my face. I reached out with one of my small hands and poked it.
The second my finger touched its cracked, hot skin, the voice exploded in my head.
It wasn't a whisper. It was a ROAR, a thousand times louder than my father's laugh, a sound of pure, ancient hunger that filled every part of me.
EAT ME!
The force of it made my knees wobble. It was a command. It was a wave of pure power that was meant to crush my own will, to make me obey without a single thought. It was like my father's "pressure" on the beach, but... inside me.
YOU ARE THE ONE! THE TIME IS NOW! EAT ME AND CLAIM YOUR RIGHTFUL POWER! CLAIM YOUR DESTINY!
It was overwhelming. It was a storm in my head, a storm of images I didn't understand. Fire, darkness, and a falling sky. I felt my hand, the one that touched the fruit, start to tremble. The voice was everything, filling my head, pushing out my own thoughts, pushing out the sound of the sea, pushing out my mother's face.
EAT! OBEY! EAT!
I stood there, my small body vibrating with the force of the command. I held the fruit. It was heavy, and it was hot in my hands, the red light pulsing faster and faster, a greedy, triumphant heart.
NOW! EAT ME!
I stared at the fruit, my gold eyes wide. I processed the command. I processed the feeling. The power it promised was huge. It felt... big. Like my father.
Then, I spoke.
"Why should I?"
My voice was soft, barely a mumble, but in the storm in my head, it was like a tiny, sharp needle.
The roaring... stopped.
It didn't fade. It just... hit a wall. The ancient, screaming consciousness was suddenly, profoundly silent.
...What?
The voice was no longer a roar. It was a whisper again, but now it was a confused whisper. A baffled one.
I looked at the black, angry fruit in my hands. "Mom told me not to eat anything weird I find on the island," I explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Not without asking her first. And this... this looks very weird."
...But... destiny... POWER... the voice stammered, trying to regain its force. It was like a big wave that had just crashed into a rock.
"Mom's probably making breakfast," I said, my priorities absolute. "So you have to wait." I gave the fruit a small, serious look. "I'll go ask her. Okay?"
...
The fruit just pulsed. I think I broke it.
...Okay? The voice finally said, small and confused.
I nodded, satisfied. "Okay."
I turned, holding the fruit in both my hands, and started walking back toward the cottage to find my mom.
THIRD PERSON POV:-
From the deep shade of the palm trees ringing the tree line, Eris and Rocks D. Xebec watched the entire exchange.
They had not slept. After their conversation on the beach, they had decided. This was the final test. They had placed the fruit on the sand where Aster would find it when he woke, and they had hidden, their Haki suppressed, to watch.
Eris was a wreck. Her hands were clenched so tightly her nails were biting into her palms. She was gripping Xebec's arm, her whole body trembling. When Aster had walked out of the cottage, her breath had caught in her throat.
"He feels it, Xebec," she whispered, her voice tight with terror. "It's calling to him. It's true."
Xebec was unnervingly still. His usual manic, wild energy was gone, compressed into a diamond-hard point of absolute focus. His eyes never left his son. "Wait," was all he said.
They watched as Aster approached the fruit. They watched him tilt his head, listening. And they watched him poke it.
The moment his finger made contact, a wave of pure, dark, dominating will exploded from the fruit. It wasn't physical, but it was so powerful that even Xebec's Observation Haki recoiled. It was an aura of pure, ancient malice and command.
Eris let out a tiny, choked sound. "Aster!"
She almost ran, but Xebec's arm shot out, a steel bar holding her in place. "Wait!" he commanded, his voice a low growl.
They watched as their one-year-old son stood there, trembling, holding the single most terrifying object in existence. They saw his small face in full concentration. They were too far away to hear the mental battle, but they could see the moment the tide turned.
Aster... spoke.
His small, high-pitched voice didn't carry, but they saw his lips move. He wasn't screaming. He wasn't crying. He was... scolding it.
Then, to their absolute, earth-shattering disbelief, he nodded, picked up the fruit, and started walking back to the cottage, carrying it like it was a strange seashell he wanted to show them.
The tension on the beach didn't just break. It vaporized.
Xebec and Eris stood in the shadows, utterly, completely dumbfounded.
Eris was the first to speak, her voice a reedy, disbelieving whisper. "He... He just... He told it no."
Xebec's face began to twitch. His shoulders started to shake. A low, strange, rumbling sound started deep in his chest.
"He's... He's bringing it to us..." Eris said, her hand rising to her mouth. "To... to ask permission."
The rumble in Xebec's chest exploded.
"ZEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
He threw his head back and roared with laughter, a sound of such pure, thunderous joy that it shook the palm fronds above them. He slapped his knee, tears streaming from his wild eyes.
"I TOLD YOU!" he bellowed, sweeping Eris into a bone-crushing hug and lifting her clean off her feet. "I TOLD YOU, ERIS! HE'S FINE! HE IS OUR SON!"
He spun her around, his manic grin wider than the sea. "Fate? Destiny? Shackles? That fruit's consciousness has waited eight hundred years for its chosen vessel, and our boy just told it to wait in line for breakfast! ZEHAHAHAHAHAHA! HE CAN'T BE INFLUENCED! HE'S THE GREATEST! HE IS A ROCKS!"
The terror that had held Eris captive for years, the deep, abiding fear for her son's soul, suddenly shattered into a million pieces. The sheer, absurd, childish power of her son's simple obedience had broken a prophecy. A huge, gasping sob tore out of her, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. She collapsed against Xebec's chest and began to laugh, her own tears of joy mixing with his.
"He's... he's just... Aster," she cried, laughing and sobbing all at once. The terrible weight was gone. Her son wasn't a puppet.
Xebec finally set her down, his own eyes bright. "He will be strong, Eris. Stronger than any man I've ever met on the seas. I know it."
Eris wiped her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "You're right. He is. But... now what? He's... he's coming."
Xebec's wild grin softened, just a fraction. It became the proud, sharp smile of a father. "Now, we tell him the truth. A version of it. Enough to make him understand. Too much information will do more harm than good, but he needs to know what he's holding."
"He's a baby, Xebec. He won't understand 'destiny'."
"He's our baby," Xebec corrected, his voice firm. "He'll understand 'power'. And he'll understand 'choice'. He already proved that. Come on. Let's go make breakfast. The little warrior has earned it."
ASTER'S POV:-
I pushed open the door to the cottage, my arms aching a little. The black fruit was heavy.
The smell of cooking fish hit me. It was a good smell.
My parents were inside. My father was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed, that huge grin back on his face. My mother was at the stove, but she turned as I came in, and her smile was... light. It was the happiest I had ever seen her.
"Look," I said. This was the most important thing. I waddled over to the small table and, with a grunt of effort, heaved the weird fruit onto the wooden surface. It landed with a heavy thud.
"I found this," I said. "It's weird."
My mother crouched down in front of me, her face kind and serious, but her eyes were still smiling. "You did? What did it do, Aster?"
"It talked," I said, stating the fact. "In my head. It was very loud. It said 'Eat me'."
My father let out a snorting "Zehaha!" from across the room.
"I told it no," I continued, looking right at my mom. "I said I had to ask you first. You said not to eat weird things. This is the weirdest."
My mother's smile was so bright it made my chest feel warm all over again. She reached out and brushed the white streak of hair off my forehead. "You did exactly the right thing, Aster. I am so, so proud of you."
I waited. The question was still there. "So... what to do?" I asked, looking from her to the fruit. "Can I eat it? Is it food?"
My father pushed off the wall and walked over, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He crouched down next to my mother. He was so big. The whole room felt small.
"It's not food, kid," he rumbled, his voice serious now. "But you can eat it. It's... special. It's called a Devil Fruit."
I just looked at him. "What is that?"
This time, my mother answered. She stood up and put her hand on the black fruit. It looked small and less scary next to her.
"A Devil Fruit, little warrior," she said, "is a treasure from the sea. A mystery. If you eat one, you gain a great, magical power. But... there is a price. The sea gets angry. It hates those with this power. If you eat one, you will never be able to swim again. The water will steal your strength."
I thought about this. I didn't like swimming anyway. The water was cold.
"Power?"
"Yes. I have one," she said.
I stared at her. Her power. The silver light. The dome that hid us.
"Remember what you saw? At night? The big, quiet bubble?" she asked. I nodded. "That's my power. From the Shizu Shizu no Mi. The Silent Silent Fruit. It lets me create a field where I can 'turn off' sound. And intent. It lets me hide us from the monsters."
It all made sense. Her power was silence. It was who she was.
I looked at the black, angry fruit on the table. It was pulsing again, a low, hopeful thump-thump. It knew we were talking about it. "What power does this one have?"
My mother and father looked at each other. It was a long, silent look. My father was the one who answered.
"We don't know, exactly," he said. I knew that was a lie. But it was a lie he was telling for a reason, so I let it go. "But we know this, Aster: This fruit is special. More special than any other fruit in the world. And it was waiting. It was waiting for you."
"For me?"
"Only you can have it, kid. It's your destiny," he said.
I didn't know "destiny." But I knew "me." I had practiced all my life with the axe. I wanted to be strong. This was a power. This was a path.
I asked the most important question. The only question that mattered.
I looked at my father, meeting his wild eyes. "Will it help me become stronger than you?"
The question hung in the air, sudden and sharp. My mother's eyes widened. My father... just stared. His manic grin was gone. His whole face was just... still. He looked at me, a one-year-old child asking to topple a giant.
He stared for a long, long time. I didn't flinch. I waited for the answer.
Then, his face cracked open. The laugh that came out wasn't the thunder-roar from before. It was deeper, richer, and full of something I could only call... respect.
"ZEHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
He swooped down and swept me up, lifting me high, high into the rafters, my head almost touching the ceiling. "Stronger than me?" he boomed, his voice vibrating through my bones. "Kid, you listen! You are Rocks D. Aster! You're my son! You were always going to be stronger than me, fruit or no fruit!"
He brought me down to his eye level, his gaze fiery and proud. "But this?" He jerked his chin at the fruit on the table. "This will make it so that no one in the world will ever be able to question it. You will be the strongest. The apex. The one who stands on top of all."
This was the answer. This was what I wanted.
"Good," I said, my voice small but firm in the big room. "Then train me."
My father's grin softened. "I will. But first..." He looked at my mother, who was watching us with a happy, teary smile. "Breakfast. Your mother's rule is iron, remember? No strength is built without food."
He set me down in my high chair. "I have to leave soon," he said, and my chest felt suddenly tight.
"When?" I asked.
"In a week," he said, sitting at the table. "But until then, I will train you. I will teach you the first real thing you need to know. The 'will' I told you about."
A week. It wasn't a long time. But it was time.
My mother set a plate of fish and vegetables in front of me. "Eat, little warrior. Training starts after breakfast."
I looked at the black fruit on the table. It was just sitting there. Waiting.
I looked at the fish.
Breakfast always won. Sorry, angry fruit. I picked up my fork and enjoyed the breakfast.
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