[RLOP] Chapter : 31 - Kalifa and kaku

The first half of the Grand Line.

The so-called Paradise.

And hidden within its waters lies an island few outsiders have ever heard of—Guanhao Island.

Its name comes from the young explorer Guanhao, the first to chart its shores. But today, those in power know it by another reputation: the birthplace of CP9.

The island itself is a wild mass of forests, but at its center towers a stone pagoda that spears the heavens. At its peak grows a living marvel.

Its roots, thick as serpents, weave through the ancient stone, binding pagoda and tree into a single living fortress. Perhaps it was this impossible vitality that convinced CP9’s elders to make the island their training ground.

After all, the banyan symbolized survival against all odds—thriving where nothing should. Just like the art of Rokushiki, where the human body is forced beyond its natural limits.

Now, within the tiered halls built for close-quarters combat, two young figures stood opposite one another.

Their eyes locked. Sparks of fighting spirit flared between them. An unspoken understanding pulsed in the air.

“Rankyaku: White Lightning!”

“Rankyaku: Whip!”

Both leapt skyward, voices sharp and clear. Their kicks carved the air, birthing cutting waves that slammed together mid-flight.

Boom!

The clash erupted, scattering dust and shaking the arena.

“Careful, Kaku—I’m coming!”

The warning, soft yet sharp, came from a girl’s voice.

“Soru!”

Before her words had even finished, her figure vanished, leaving only a fading afterimage. Using the storm of dust as cover, she closed in on Kaku with blinding speed.

“Tekkai!”

Sensing the gust behind him, Kaku reacted instantly. His arms crossed before his chest, blood surging to his muscles until they hardened like steel.

Bang!

The impact rang like hammer against iron. Holding back Kalifa’s kick, Kaku barked a laugh.

“Hah! Kalifa, this old man didn’t even need to think to guess you’d aim there!”

That was his quirk—despite his youth, Kaku always referred to himself as this old man.

Kalifa landed lightly, retreating with her glasses flashing.

“This is training, not a real fight,” she said coolly. “If it were, wouldn’t you want to think about where I’d strike?”

Kaku faltered. A bead of sweat slid down his temple. He’d seen what happened when Kalifa truly let loose against criminals. Her special kicks carried… double the lethality for men.

Maybe triple.

“…Training’s about exposing our weaknesses,” Kaku muttered at last, fists tightening. “If I can’t handle every kind of attack, how can this old man grow stronger? How can this old man ever catch up—”

He stopped.

The name that weighed on both their hearts hovered unspoken between them.

Lucci.

The boy they no longer dared mention aloud.

“I know…” Kalifa pushed her slipping glasses up, the glint across the lenses hiding the tremor in her eyes. Her tone was calm, but her voice carried quiet steel. “But companions are different. I can’t strike my comrades with full force. If it were Lucci, he’d understand that too.”

The name he couldn’t bear to utter—she spoke it plainly. Yet her voice quivered ever so slightly.

Kaku said nothing. His thoughts drifted to that silent figure who was slipping further and further away from them.

Rob Lucci.

To them—orphans taken by the World Government—companions weren’t teammates, but family. And among them, Lucci had always stood apart.

Cold, quiet, distant… yet they all knew the truth.

He carried Blueno when training left him behind. He wordlessly brought bandages to Jabra when his reckless challenges left him bleeding. He even clapped for Kumadori after his bizarre Tekkai seppuku performances.

He never mocked Fukurou’s body, never sneered at Kaku’s odd square nose, and never treated Kalifa as weak simply for being a girl.

No one said it aloud. But in their hearts, they all knew—Lucci was their moonlight.

The one to chase, surpass, and follow.

But that light had vanished in an instant.

One day, a bounty poster arrived.

And the world told them Lucci had betrayed the government.

None of them understood why. None wanted to believe it. Yet all of them carried the same vow:

They would bring him back. Because they could not—would not—be enemies with their moonlight forever.

“I’m sorry… this old man didn’t mean to bring it up.” Kaku pulled his cap lower, voice subdued.

“It’s fine,” Kalifa said softly. “Lucci’s only gone for now. One day, he’ll return.”

Her calm tone didn’t fool anyone. Among them, she was the one most wounded by his absence. Her feelings for Lucci ran deeper than the rest, and so too did her pain.

Kaku sighed inwardly. He said nothing, only steeled his resolve. He had to grow stronger. Strong enough to face the World Government itself if it meant bringing Lucci back.

Because in this world, strength meant privilege. And if he could climb high enough, maybe he could demand Lucci’s pardon.

Don’t worry, Kalifa. We’ll bring him back. That’s our promise.

His fists clenched. His heart burned.

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “Lucci just took a wrong turn. One day, he’ll see it—and come back.”

Kalifa’s golden hair swayed as she turned, her steps graceful, her voice sharp.

“Hmph. And now Commander Laski finally has the post he always craved. No wonder he’s so eager to issue orders every day.”

“Uh…” Kaku froze. In the past, mocking a superior like that would’ve meant confinement—or worse, execution at sea. But things had changed.

He scratched his head awkwardly and hurried after her.

Ever since Lucci meddled with fate, nothing was the same.

Not in Wano. Not in CP. Not even at the highest levels of the World Government itself.

In barely half a month, nearly a third of CP9’s ranks had vanished without a trace.

Rumors swirled: the total amount siphoned through the entire CP network was an astronomical 23 billion, much of it stolen directly from Marine military funds.

The truth remained murky.

But one thing was clear—no one hunted fugitives harder than the Marines, desperate to wash the stain from their own coffers.

And in the chaos, one name rose above the wreckage.

Laski.

The former Deputy Director of the CP9 Liaison Office. Ostracized for years by Spandine, too straight-laced to skim even a single berry from the books. When the purge ended, he alone stood untouched.

So naturally, the letter arrived: his appointment as CP9’s new Director.

He was also known by another name—Kalifa’s father.

That was why Kalifa could speak her mind freely before him. Anyone else would’ve been sunk into the sea long ago.

For now, Director Laski’s office had been moved from blood-stained Enies Lobby to Guanhao Island. Officially, it gave time for the fortress to “air out.” Unofficially, it allowed him to spend time with one of his precious daughters.

Yes, one of them.

For Kalifa had a twin sister, Alpha. Nearly identical, save for their hair color.

At that moment, Laski sat on a worn sofa, sighing heavily as he swirled a glass of red wine.

“Rob Lucci…” His voice was low, bitter. “Betrayal is one thing, but why drag me down with you?”

He raised the glass, stared at the swirling liquid. “And making my darling leak tears? That, I’ll never forgive.”

He sipped—then gagged.

“Ptooey! Ptooey! Who drinks this garbage!?”

He eyed the glass with disgust before tossing it aside, choosing ignorance over refinement. Then he leaned back, staring at the ceiling with a theatrical sigh.

“Spandine, you said I’d never rise because I couldn’t drink? You old fossil, you’re older than Tom—”

Knock, knock, knock.

The door opened before he could finish.

“Kalifa—at least wait for permission, will you?”

“The sooner I enter, the sooner this ends. Every time he calls me, it’s just useless talk, wasting my training time.”

Kaku, hovering behind her, winced. Seeing Laski’s twitching brow, he quickly saluted.

“Commander Laski!”

“Mm. Sit anywhere,” Laski replied, gesturing vaguely to a wooden chair with a missing arm.

Then his eyes shifted to Kalifa, who stood arms crossed, unimpressed. Weighing his authority as both father and Director, he chose the path of indulgence.

“Kalifa-chan You must be exhausted from training. If you want, Daddy can transfer you to another department. Daddy has the power now, you know”

He tugged her onto the sofa, beaming like a child showing off a new toy.

Kalifa exhaled sharply. “I knew it would be something like this again.” Her voice was firm, cutting. “Listen carefully—this is the last time I’ll say it. Don’t interfere with my future. If you do, then don’t call me your daughter ever again.”

With that, she turned to leave.

For Kalifa, joining CP9 had once been about following her father. Then it became about standing beside Lucci. Now, it was something else entirely—becoming strong enough to walk by Lucci’s side, regardless of right or wrong.

Watching her go, Kaku slumped into a crooked chair, tugging his cap low. The thought slipped unbidden into his mind:

Why does Kalifa feel more like the parent here?

“Not that!” Laski’s voice cracked. “You used to love being with Daddy! What changed in just a few years?!”

He caught her wrist desperately. “Wait, Kalifa-chan! I didn’t call you here just to see you!”

“Hm?”

“I mean, seeing you is one reason, but the real reason is…” He scrambled to his desk, producing two wooden boxes.

“The purge gutted CP9, but the higher-ups know we’re second only to CP0. To rebuild quickly…”

He slid the boxes toward her.

Kalifa narrowed her eyes. “What’s this?”

“Devil Fruits.”

Wano, Kuri—Atama Mountain.

The bandits’ lair had been tidied for one last feast. Crumbled walls remained, but the floor was cleared, the bonfire rekindled. Meat roasted in a ring around the flames, fat dripping, sizzling, filling the air with mouth-watering aroma.

They would soon abandon this den and follow a new master. Tonight was both farewell and celebration.

Food piled high—bread, fruit, vegetables, stolen drink. Yamato, flushed from too much juice, stood at the fire, belting out a boisterous “Pirate Song.”

Laughter, shouting, drunken cries—tonight, everything was joy.

At Lucci’s side, Hiyori peeled a strange fruit and pressed it to his lips, blushing when his mouth brushed her finger.

Even more attentive than Yamato-nee… I can win. I’ll win, Hiyori!

Across the fire, Shutenmaru twitched at the sight.

Then he noticed Lucci’s bandaged arms. Wrapped tight, useless. Shutenmaru touched his own missing tooth with a rueful sigh.

“Can I see it?” Lucci asked calmly, accepting another fruit from Hiyori.

Wano was a land of treasure—seastone veins, rare Zoans whispered of only in legend. Even so, his eyes sharpened at what was brought before him.

“Someone’s already fetching it,” Shutenmaru said. “Eat it if you like. Consider it a gift from your new followers.”

Lucci nodded. “Then thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I’m a swordsman. A Devil Fruit would only weaken my blade.”

Moments later, a bandit delivered a small wooden box.

“Boss—new boss—the item you wanted.”

“Address him properly as Lucci-sama.” Shutenmaru cuffed the man with his sword hilt before presenting the box.

Before Lucci could reach for it, Hiyori’s soft hands opened the lid.

“I’ll help you, Lucci-sama.”

Her voice barely registered. His attention was locked on the fruit within.

Because he knew it.

A Devil Fruit spoken of only in Wano’s oldest legends.

A Mythical Zoan.

The Bird-Bird Fruit—Nue form.