Wind Demon (One Piece x Male Reader)

Pirate Y/N vs Cypris

The corridors stretched on endlessly, an unrelenting labyrinth of cold stone and flickering shadows. Y/N’s breath came in sharp bursts as he sprinted through the passageways, boots pounding against the uneven floor with each urgent step. The air was thick with the scent of aged stone and the silence—except for his own echoing footsteps.

His heart hammered against his ribs as he rounded a corner, his sharp gaze flicking from one shadowed recess to the next, searching, analyzing. Then, just ahead, a sliver of light spilled from the gap of a slightly ajar door, cutting through the oppressive gloom like a beacon.

His instincts screamed for him to press on, to keep running, but something about the strange sensation that prickled at the back of his neck, a silent warning slithering down his spine—made him pause.

Retracing his steps, Y/N approached the doorway with cautious precision, muscles coiled, ready to react at a moment’s notice. His fingertips ghosted over the rough-hewn stone of the doorframe as he leaned in, peering through the narrow opening.

Inside, the room was sparse, its walls bare save for the faint flicker of a single lantern casting long, wavering shadows. But it wasn’t the emptiness of the space that held his attention—it was the lone figure seated cross-legged in the center of the floor.

His head was tilted slightly downward, snow-white hair cascading over his shoulders, eyes closed as if lost in deep meditation. But there was something off, something unnatural about the stillness that clung to him. Y/N could feel it—the way his presence filled the room, thick and heavy, like a storm waiting to break.

“Is he CP9?” Y/N murmured to himself, voice barely above a breath. His fingers flexed at his sides, poised for a fight.

As if responding to his quiet observation, the man’s eyes snapped open.

They were unlike anything Y/N had ever seen—storm-gray, clouded, unfocused. The revelation hit him instantly. The man was blind. Yet there was no uncertainty in the way he moved, no hesitation in the way he tilted his head ever so slightly, as though tracking Y/N with an unseen gaze. His presence was unnerving, his aura like a coiled serpent, calm but deadly.

“I was hoping you’d come,” the man spoke, his voice smooth, deliberate, laced with a quiet amusement.

He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, movements eerily controlled, disturbingly graceful. The shadows twisted around him as he stepped forward, his posture relaxed, yet there was an undeniable weight to the way he carried himself.

“I am Cypris of the Hashimoto clan.”

Y/N's eyes narrowed, assessing him with sharp scrutiny. A blind warrior? That didn’t make sense. But the way Cypris stood—unshaken, utterly composed—suggested that he was no ordinary man. His expression held no uncertainty, no vulnerability, just quiet confidence, as though he could see Y/N far more clearly than Y/N could ever see him.

“Blind, huh?” Y/N smirked, rolling his shoulders as his muscles tensed.

Without another word, he stretched out his arm, fingers flexing as the air around him trembled. A sharp gust of wind erupted from his palm, roaring through the room with the force of a hurricane. The blast struck the far wall behind Cypris, rattling the foundation, sending debris and dust swirling violently into the air. The sheer force of it would have knocked an ordinary man off his feet.

But Cypris didn’t flinch.

He stood amidst the chaos, utterly unperturbed, his grin widening ever so slightly as the wind howled around him. It was as if he had already known exactly where the attack would land, as if he had anticipated it before Y/N had even moved.