Make Me Bad

by Anonymous

Summary:

Joining the Marines after years of being a bounty hunter, you would find yourself to be entangled in an unwanted conflict that arises from your childhood. Burden and guilt falls heavy on your shoulders. Blood drips from your hands. Amidst the war waging in your mind stood a man, proudly displaying Absolute Justice to everyone in his path.

Your heart lets out whispers of longing, concealed in stolen glances.

 

“Who will hold you when your hands are stained with blood of many but none of yours?”

Chapter 1: Author's note

Hiiii so I want to yap for a bit so if you're willing to read all this, thank you and sorry for wasting your time ^__^

Also this is my first time publishing a fic on AO3 pls be easy on me

IMPORTANT

 

1. First of all, this fic started off as a Self-Insert fic, so if you're reading and think "The fuck I would never say/do this..." then I'm very sorry! I am not gonna rewrite the entire story to make it more inclusive so if the MC feels too OOC for you, that's just my laziness

 

2. English is not my first language so there will be some grammatical errors..... and plus I don't beta read so

 

3. Writing isn't my best thing so it will be very out of character and Sakazuki isn't the easiest character for me to write TT

 

4. I don't plan on writing smut in this because I'm simply not interested in sex and we have enough smuts already under his name lol though it will be suggestive at times

 

5. The lore might be confusing, I don't plan them out in my notes or anything, they're all simply in my head. If it's cringe then I'm sorry once again but you gotta remember that this was a Self-Insert fic LMAO everything was catered to my liking. Still does ngl

 

6. There's not really a definite timeline of the story, it's set up post-timeskip but it's very inconsistent lol. Though I do include some canon events throughout so that might give some clues as to when the story takes place

 

7. Chapter release is very inconsistent, but I do have a schedule that I rarely follow. I try to post a new chapter every time a One Piece chapter comes out. But I'm caught up and also a scans reader, so I'm following their release schedule instead of VIZ. Check out TCB Scans

 

8. And also. Spoiler warning for those who are Anime onlys or not caught up with the manga yet

 

9. Update Sep 6 2024: This fic was created in 2022, so some stuff in the story are outdated and not accurate to the canon. For example, Aramaki's Vivre Card just released and he wasn't as tall as I (and everyone else) thought. Rewriting and fixing the story to be more accurate to the canon takes too much time, so I will leave it as it is

NOT REALLY IMPORTANT 

 

1. Each chapters' title are actually based off songs, whether it be the song title or the lyric. Sometimes it's connected to the chapter's content but most of the time I just choose what sounds cool. I will put the reference in the notes, so if you care you can read it

 

2. The first few chapters are so badly written but that's because I was 15 when I started writing this. I promise it gets better - not good but definitely an improvement.

 

3. If you're interested in extra content or basically the addendum of this fic, click hereee

Chapter 2: I ; LESS I HEAR, THE LESS YOU SAY

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from One Step Closer by Linkin Park.

Wiping off the crimson blood off your face, you stare down at the pirate whose face you don't recognize from the wanted posters anymore. Bloody and beaten up is the appropriate and only way to describe it - not half-dead though. You are merciful enough to just keep him from taking off or even utter a sound; you don't like when people beg. You're not a murderer after all, you are just another bounty hunter that would hunt pirates so that you can feed yourself and live to see another day.

“Huurrmm…” he tried to let out a noise but what came out was just incoherent gibberish. You're starting to feel bad, maybe you beat them up too hard this time. You made sure to hold back in the future. His mouth spat out blood, some of it flying to your boots and staining them. It's no matter, you can always splash some water on it and it'll go away. Hopefully, it won't leave a horrible smell. Dried blood is not a pleasant smell.

Forming your hand into a finger gun, you aim at your bloody boots. Water shot out from your fingertip and immediately washed off the liquid.

You pull your finger and wipe them on your jacket. It has been years since you ate the water-water fruit, and yet, you never really figured out how to dry yourself without having to use something. You'll figure it out soon, you hope. You straighten your jacket to appear… cleaner, perhaps. You don't want to be mistaken for a killer.

“Please…”

“Don't talk. You don't want blood in your lungs, do you?”

He did not attempt to make any more noises after that.

You look away, facing away from him. You didn't expect that he would believe that lie, or maybe truth; you're not a medical expert.

From afar, a shadow of a battleship appeared. You immediately knew it was a Marine battleship. The white and blue combination is recognizable even from miles away. The sea waved, carrying the huge and heavy ship on it. You never understood how things that heavy could float on water, not that it matters. What matters is that bounty you're promised that you will be given after handing a wanted pirate to these World Government dogs.

It pulled on the shore, an anchor thrown down to keep the battleship in place. A flight of stairs rolled down for easier access to descend from the ship. Some low-rank Marine soldiers walked out, followed by someone that is much taller than the rest of them. The iconic oversized white coat hanging off his shoulders, defying gravity. The word "正義" written in Kanji printed on the back, meaning "justice". He turned his back to you, speaking to one of the soldiers. You look at his coat's cuffs. White. You immediately recognize who he is.

You waited for a while and he finally turned to walk down the stairs. His black hair messily rests on his face with his bangs splitting into two, a tiny ponytail tied at the back of his head, his round sunglasses that hang just at the tip of his nose and his facial hair that pulls all his good features together - it's no wonder that women and even men of the island were staring at him in awe. He flashed them a small smile and you could've sworn you saw their eyes turn into hearts. He is a handsome man for sure.

He walked over to you. You took the time to analyze his outfit today. It was nothing special, just a regular beige shirt, black vest and brown pants. The bright blue tie stood out among the neutral colours. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His veiny arms might as well melt all the people here.

The pirate you beat up moved the tip of his finger, as if attempting to beg him to let him go.

You crossed your arms, looking at him with bored eyes. “There's your guy. Hand me his bounty,” you spoke to break the silence.

He looked down at the defeated pirate, who just stared at the ground since moving is too exhausting for him. He turned to look at the soldiers behind him, motioning them to take the pirate. They immediately rushed to pick him up and only received pained groans from him. A string of curses escaped his mouth.

A soldier handed him a bunch of Berries tied neatly with a rubber band. 30,000 Berries for this measly pirate, but it'll be enough to feed you for this week and probably the one after. He gave you the money.

He rests his hands in his pants pockets, his straight posture dropped to slouching - showing he's relaxed. A soldier put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it up with a lighter. He inhales, pulls away and blows the smoke to the sky. Polluting it, you thought. He looks at you, a smile formed on his lips. “Good to see you all good and healthy, (Y/N).”

You scoffed at the ridiculousness. “A doctor smoking. Can't say the same for you. Your lungs black yet?” you sarcastically asked.

He lets out a chuckle, motioning the soldier to throw away the barely used cigarette. “You're right, sorry about that,” he looks at his soldiers struggling to carry the wounded pirate who is thrashing all over the place. They'll be fine, he thought. He looks at you again, “As always, thank you, (Y/N),” he thanked you, slightly nodding his head.

You rub your non-itchy nape. You have heard him thanking you countless times despite you telling him to stop because you aren't greatly contributing to getting rid of pirates. It was just a random nobody, “Yeah, whatever,” you awkwardly replied. “It's no big deal, Jay-han.”

You sit down on the nearest bench, Jay standing over on your side.

“Well, shouldn't you go now? I didn't capture anyone else.”

“Mhm, maybe. But I do have something to discuss with you.”

“Discuss? What is there to discuss? Perhaps you should go and do your job, doctor-han. I'm just a bounty hunter.”

“I am doing my job, (Y/N)-san.”

“Are you not done here?”

He tilted his head, seemingly in deep thought. You look at him with curiosity.

“Do you want to join the Marines?”

You were taken back, that was not what you were expecting. You expected that maybe Jay wanted to tell you to stop hunting for too many pirates, not that it made sense now that you think about it. You watch as the tree you're sitting under lets go of its brown leaves, flying just between you and Jay. He is waiting for an answer. You don't know what to answer. Of course - you have thought about becoming a Marine at some point, but the thought of having someone bossing you around is just a little bit tiresome. You're not a fan of following anyone's orders. A promised paycheck does sound nice though.

You looked down at the money you were given earlier. Fiddling your thumbs over the rubber band used to tie the money together. You're not sure what to answer. “I… I don't know,” you paused, lifting your head up to look at him who was looking at you with what seems like a hopeful expression on his face. You sighed, “You know me, Jay-han. I don't like being ordered around.”

Jay pulled on his collar, loosening it. “Yeah, of course. But with your powers right now, it'll help strengthen the Marine power. I'd bet that with your strength as it is right now, you'll get the Vice Admiral position,” he rambles.

You let out a dry laugh, thinking about you being a Marine is funny. Although you hate to admit it, you like how they look. The coat especially, you want it for yourself. The blinding white does make them look elegant, despite them being egotistical assholes. It may not be all of them, but there are certainly lots of them. A certain extremist pops up in your head.

“A bit sudden to ask that question, don't you think?”

“We've known each other for two years, (Y/N)-san. I think it's only right that I ask you to join us now.”

You gasped quietly. Two years, has it really been that long? Although it might not be long to others, it is certainly a long time for you. A long time for a bond with someone. When you started out as a bounty hunter, you would always hand over the criminal and go on your merry way after receiving the money. Forming bonds are not important, you thought. It would only be a nuisance in the future - conflicts and all that. You would rather live a lonesome life.

Then one day, Jay entered your life. Not that you wanted to, or even let him to, it just happened. Everytime you defeated a criminal, he would always be there to pick them up. It started with a small empty talks to what it is today. You wondered if he ever gets tired of you.

“Woah, that's a huge guy you defeated! You're really strong, aren't you?”

You looked down at the man you're sitting on. You're already tall yourself at 250cm, but he was much bigger. Yet, you managed to defeat him.

You hopped off, shaking the dust and debris off your clothes. Wiping his blood on his clothes, you walked over to the Marine guy. Judging from the coat hanging on his shoulders and how tall he is compared to the average low-ranking soldier, you guessed that he is a Vice Admiral. Though, the stethoscope hanging off his neck throws you off. Is he a doctor or a Vice Admiral?

You extend your hand, “I guess so. Give me my 30,000,000 Berries,” you demanded.

He pulled out a stack of money tied together with a rubber band from his pants pocket. “Yeah, of course,” he handed over the bounty to you to which you eagerly accepted, “My name is Jay, you're (Y/N) right?” he asked, extending his hand for a handshake.

You hesitated, returning the handshake. “Yeah,” you answer shortly, not in the mood to have a conversation. You're not sure how he knew your name, you guessed that he got it from your frequent hunting. You must've made a name for yourself, you weren't aware of it.

He turned to walk away but stopped momentarily, turning his head to look at you. “Will we meet again, (Y/N)-san?” he asked.

You let out a huff. This guy sure likes conversing, you thought to yourself. “That's up to you,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders.

He smiles before walking away, his soldiers carrying the huge criminal you defeated alongside him.

Time flies quickly.

You rest your back on the bench, lifting your head up to the sky - your eyes closed. You thought about it for a second.

“Will I get the cool coat?” you asked.

He laughed. A few hair strands fell on his face, he lifted up his hand to swipe them back to place. Fixing his glasses, he looks at you. “You can choose the colour of your cuffs, too.”

You smirked.

“I want black.”

Notes:

1. The first couple chapters are always bad but I promise it gets better with recent chapters TT

2. The reader using the "-han" honorific is actually the same thing as "-san", it's just in the Kansai dialect. Although this doesn't mean that the reader IS speaking in a Kansai dialect, she simply just uses that honorific. Much like how Law uses the honorific "-ya".

3. In addition to above, I literally just decided to make the reader use that honorific because I like hearing the Kansai accent while playing the Yakuza games. But I'm not good at translating the Kansai dialect into English so I guess this will do!

Chapter 3: II ; STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Notes:

Chapter title is a song from Led Zeppelin.

“Do I really have to?” you asked Jay, anxious and laziness plastered all over your posture.

Jay looks at you with a sad smile. He doesn't want to force you, but it's mandatory. New recruits - especially those that are immediately granted the Vice Admiral position - have to face the Fleet Admiral. You're dumbfounded. What for? It's not like you're a new Admiral, Vice Admirals shouldn't have to introduce themselves, do they? Plus, you're not looking forward to meeting this guy that everyone seems to be scared of. You haven't seen his face before, you heard that he has never been seen with a smile on his face. You also heard that he is strict to no ends. It's no surprise, he's the one that killed the Fire Fist Ace in Summit War.

Jay fixed your new coat for you. “I can't do anything about this, (Y/N)-san. I'm really sorry,” he apologizes.

You groaned, looking at the mirror in front of you. You look down at your outfit. If the coat wasn't there, you wouldn't even look like a Marine. You wear a short black suit with a red shirt underneath it, a glimpse of your stomach can be seen. Long black high waist pants make your legs seem longer (it was already long enough).

You look down at the paper sitting on the desk in front of you. “And I'm…” you trailed off your words, reading the newly recruited Vice Admirals - or Vice Admiral, singular. You're the only one that immediately got the Vice Admiral position upon joining, “...the only one. I have to meet him alone,” you quietly continued, still not believing what you're reading even though you have read that paper countless times the night before.

“I'm afraid so. It'll be fine, (Y/N). Just don't do anything that might anger him.”

“Elaborate on that. What won't anger him?”

Jay kept quiet.

You know that he won't be able to answer. Although you don't know the Fleet Admiral personally or even talked with him, you've heard from Jay that he always finds a way to get mad at something. Everything must be perfect to him, his pride and ego is bigger than that of a mountain. You're starting to dread meeting him, as if you weren't before. Having this guy to order you around is an absolute nightmare, you're starting to regret agreeing to join the Marines. Maybe being a bounty hunter was enough.

You let out a deep breath.

You looked away from the mirror. “Whatever. I'll get over it,” you sighed.

Jay gave you a pat on your shoulder, “Good luck. Try not to get killed.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a weak punch to the chest. He laughed it off, stepping aside to make way for you to step out of the room. He walks in front of you to guide you to the Fleet Admiral's office - which is at the very top of the building. Seeing the huge flight of stairs, you mentally sighed. Does he not get tired from this? Or does he just use his magma powers to fly to the top? Perhaps you should try that too. Transform yourself into water and fly yourself to the top. You thought about holding onto Jay but since you haven't figured out a way to immediately dry yourself after using your power, you threw the idea into the trash. You don't want both of you to be drenched in water the moment you arrive at the top, you spent quite a long time deciding what to wear today so you would hate to ruin it.

Every step you take feels heavy. You haven't even met him and you're already intimidated.

Before you know it, you're already facing the big and wide room. There is no door, just a huge entrance. In the far distance deep into the room, you see an abnormally tall man in front of his desk, leaning on it. His left hand is in his pocket and the other is holding a paper. He's reading the content. You could only assume that he's reading the list of Vice Admirals meeting him today. It was subtle, but below the cap he's wearing that hides his eyes, his lip twitched. Perhaps he expected more, but it was just one woman.

You step into his office and you immediately notice how big this room actually is. So big that even this tall man seemed small. Hearing your footsteps, he lifts his head to look at you. A cigar in his mouth, he inhaled it. Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he took the cigar and took it out of his mouth to exhale the smoke.

Your eyes met. Even from this distance, you could see how intense his gaze was. His eyes tell a thousand stories, those of suffering and war. A scar stretching from his face's right side to his neck, you heard from Jay that it's from his battle with Aokiji for the Fleet Admiral position. You thought that it's a shame that Aokiji lost, it seems like he was a much more reasonable man and had a better moral compass. His unbuttoned shirt shows off his tattoos on the left side of his body. His eyebrows are furrowed, wrinkles all over his face. He is obviously over the age of 50.

But still… he is much more handsome than you expected.

“I take it you're the new Vice Admiral, (Y/N),” he suddenly spoke. His voice is fierce and sharp.

You didn't know what to do. You forgot to ask Jay about this. You held out a hand and did the Marine salutation. “I… yeah, that's me,” you answered his question.

He just lets out an amused huff.

He looks back at the papers he's holding, shuffling the one at the back to sit on top. You saw a glimpse of your picture, it's your file. He reads it for a while. You stood there, your arms awkwardly at the side. It states everything that he should know, including the fact that you're a water-water fruit user. Another logia eater , he thought. Although, you are much more dangerous than others. It's stated that you haven't awakened it. If you had, you could quite literally flip the ocean over and destroy a lot of islands, if not the world. It's a good thing that Vice Admiral Jay managed to convince you to join the Marine. Still, he has to keep an eye out to make sure you would not think of even being a traitor to the Marines.

He has to keep you under his control.

Putting the papers on his desk, he crosses his arms and looks at you. This time, his head is no longer tilted forward. His entire face is visible to you now. You carefully examine his face. He has a strong and sharp jaw connected to his muscular neck. His facial hair undoubtedly made him look better. His cheekbones are profound. His eyes are staring you down, possibly digging holes into your soul.

“Vice Admiral,” he calls you out, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hope that he didn't notice you staring at his face for too long (he did), “Now that you've joined the Marines, I expect you to not slack even a little bit. Must I remind you that I do not tolerate failures?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“No, I got that, Fleet Admiral-han,” you shortly answer.

His eye twitched. Fleet Admiral-han. He expected you to call him "sir". It wasn't rude per se, so he just let it slide.

“That's good to hear. You're dismissed,” he announced, going to sit in his chair again.

Exclaiming a small “okay", you turned around to exit his office. You let out a small sigh of relief, that went better and smoother than you expected. You're just glad that you didn't do anything that angered him. Small replies do wonders, you in mind to do the same in the future. Lesser words mean less chances to accidentally spout something that could irritate him.

As soon as you're close to the huge entrance, his voice booms through the large room with minimal furniture. “Before you go,” he spoke, keeping you dead in your tracks. You start to wonder if you actually did say something he didn't like. You slowly turn around, preparing for the worst. He points his cigar positioned between his pointer and middle finger at you, “I should be the first to know if you ever awakened your devil fruit.”

You didn't understand. You know that awakening your devil fruit is a big deal, but if he had to mention that you have to report to him first must mean it's pretty damn important. You don't know much about devil fruits, you never cared to learn about them even though you're a devil fruit eater yourself. All you know is that they are incarnations of the Sea Devil and it grants you powers. There are three types of devil fruits and you were lucky enough to eat the rarest of them all, a Logia. Although it is ironic that you ate the one that gives you the power to turn yourself into water, given that you will lose the ability to swim. The ocean itself is your worst enemy.

Upon arriving at the bottom, Jay immediately went up to you. It appears that he had been waiting there for you. His shocked face tells you that he was not expecting you to return so soon.

“How was it, (Y/N)-san? You returned rather quickly, I assume it went fine,” he asked curiously.

You're starting to feel cold, grabbing your coat to cover yourself more to act as a blanket. You noticed that his office was quite warm compared to the bottom, perhaps it's his magma powers. “It did go fine. I managed to not fuck up, surprisingly,” you answered, hugging your coat even tighter.

He breathes a sigh of relief. From your nonchalant personality, he expected that you would accidentally piss him off. He guessed that you are much more capable than he initially thought, or maybe the Fleet Admiral was much nicer than what he is known for.

Jay looks at you, a feeling of guilt crosses his heart again. Keeping a small smile, he helps you wear your coat (not that he has ever seen someone actually wear the coat like it's designed for). You must've been cold, he thought. One day, he will find the courage to apologize - but not today. He doesn't think that you are ready to hear it, or ever, for that matter. Maybe when he is on the verge of death he'll do it; but for now, he'll keep it a secret.

Walking through the long plain white with a faint blue tone, you find that there are a lot of rooms that you can't keep up with what their purposes are. You only care about getting your own personal office so that you have the utmost privacy. You have a lot of things to hide, and they can only be shown to certain people - like Jay. You trust him. You see the same doors over and over again despite them all being different rooms. It was tiring to see, your eyes hurt. This just confuses you even more. Now that you think about it, you have never been to a building this huge before. It'll be tough to navigate, but you'll manage… somehow.

Your stomach suddenly grumbled, loudly at that. Jay looks at you, his eyebrows raised. You could feel your cheeks slowly heating up. What a terrible timing.

“Oh, are you hungry? Shall we go get something to eat?” He asked, stifling his urge to laugh at your embarrassed reaction.

You just look at him, your mouth turning into a deep frown. It's not like this is the first time you have ever embarrassed yourself in front of him. In fact, this is more of the tamer ones compared to before. But still - you don't like embarrassing yourself in general. Jay always laughs it off every time. It doesn't phase him in the slightest, it just makes you seem more human and not at all a monster that you are known for. He likes seeing that side of you.

You look down to the floor, ashamed. “...yes, please,” you quietly accepted his offer. Jay pats you on the shoulder, signaling you to not feel too embarrassed. Not that it worked, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

Chapter 4: III ; THE STEAMING SOUP BEGINS TO MELT

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from You Know You're Right by Nirvana.

The sun shines brightly on your face; you didn't like that. You pulled down your round shades sitting on top of your head, shielding your eyes from the intense light. You stare at the cook on the other side of the counter, cooking your meal as well as Jay's. The mixture of smoke and the foods' aroma pleases you, it feels weirdly comforting. You look to the side, Jay sitting next to you with a lit cigarette in his mouth. He takes a few puffs here and there, his eyes staring at the sky above him - he is also wearing shades. His hands resting in his pockets, it appears that there is not a single thought on his mind. Except for, well, the food he's waiting for.

The cook's back is turned to you, but you could see his face reflected on the little microwave in front of him. You didn't really care about what he looks like, but he is odd, that's for sure. The back of his jacket lies the World Government logo; you assume that he's a cipher pol agent, perhaps undercover. You don't care enough to ask and you are sure that he won't answer that question anyway. He's humming a song that sounds familiar, you have heard it not too long ago. It's probably one of Soul King's songs, you can't seem to remember. His songs are good, though.

He turns around, two bowls in his hands. “Here it is! A ramen for you, lady, and a chashumen for the young man!” he exclaimed, putting your respective bowls in front of you.

You take the chopsticks and break them into individuals. Before you could dive into the ramen, you sensed a tall figure next to you.

“Arara… I don't think I can fit here.”

Jay almost snapped his neck turning to look at the source of the voice. The stall is too small and all three of you are taller than the average human. Jay's legs accidentally hit the counter, causing both of your bowls to shake. You managed to stop them from falling, although you did get some of the hot broth on your hands.

Jay finally got out of his seat. “K-Kuzan-san…!!!” he stuttered.

The tall man looks down at him, his head tilted to the side. “You're…” he trailed off, pinching his temples with right hand that is gloved, “...ah. I forgot,” he continued. Jay could only stare at him in disbelief. Is he that forgettable or is it just Kuzan being Kuzan?

Jay ushered you to make some space for him, you're not sure if he would fit. Both you and Jay are already tall enough, and Kuzan is even taller. This stall is not made for your heights. You move closer to Jay's seat, letting that man sit next to you. His legs are abnormally long, your knees are touching.

“I'm Jay,” Jay introduced himself again, “And this is Vice Admiral (Y/N), she just got recruited last week.”

Kuzan eyes you up and down through his round yellow-tinted shades, his lips pursed in amusement.

“Are you free tonight?”

“Um… no…?”

“That's too bad. Wanze-san, I want the usual.”

You turn to look at Jay, “He looks familiar, Jay-han. Have I seen him before?” you asked.

Jay slurps his noodles, sticking out his tongue to cool it since he underestimated how hot the broth is. “Yeah, that's the former Admiral Aokiji,” he answered between slurps. You just nod, turning to continue eating your ramen.

You glance to your left, Kuzan is waiting patiently for the meal that he frequently ordered. He looks different than what you saw in the newspapers. It wasn't a drastic change, he just wasn't in his Marine outfit and grew out a facial hair as well as those shades he's wearing on the crook of his nose. Instead of the usual white and blue attire, he's now wearing a blue-green trenchcoat with a V-neck shirt underneath it. He's wearing black trousers with boots. His iconic sleep mask is no longer resting on his forehead, he wears a light blue bandana now. You also notice a small light brown knapsack on his shoulder.

As he's waiting for Wanze to finish cooking for him, he looks at you. “So, how do you like it in the Marines?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You twirl the remaining noodles in your bowl with your chopsticks. “It's going well, I suppose. The Fleet Admiral didn't yell at me, surprisingly,” you answered, finally dipping the noodles into your mouth and chewing it.

Kuzan raises an eyebrow, “That's unlike him,” he commented. You simply shrug your shoulders. You don't really care that he didn't raise his voice at you, it's a good thing that he didn't otherwise you would've immediately covered your ears which could anger him ever more. You are also hot-headed, it would just end up being a screaming match and with you dishonorably discharged on your first week.

“Here's your usual!”

“Thanks, I appreciate i…”

“Ah!”

“Ah. Sorry, I accidentally froze it again.”

You watch quietly as the scene unfolds. Kuzan gives his bowl back to Wanze, you could see his chopsticks standing up straight in the frozen soup. Again? This must've been a recurring accident. You wonder how a former Admiral could make this simple mistake despite having mastered his own power. He's a human after all, mistakes are part of life. They're bound to happen.

You hear a ringing Den Den Mushi. You look over at Jay, who is already holding it.

“There has been reports of pirate sightings in your area, Vice Admirals.”

You and Jay immediately stand up, slamming some money on the counter. It was definitely more than what you have to pay for, but you couldn't be bothered to properly count them all and give him the exact amount. You look over your shoulder, Kuzan silently watching your every move.

You hold up a hand, “Sorry, Kuzan-han. Duty calls.”

He just smirks, drinking his beer. “Show me what you're capable of, (Y/N),” he said, resting his back on the counter behind him, “After all, you're the only one that was immediately promoted to the Vice Admiral position upon joining.”

You gave him a nod.

As you catch up to Jay, you see a pirate attempting to rob a mother who is holding her child by the hand. She hides the child behind her, shielding her from the pirate. He forcefully grabs her bag, ripping it apart. Her belongings flew in the air, which included some money among them. Her stuff scattered on the floor, making loud noises combined with the child's cries and the pirate's shoutings.

“Please stop! This is all I have, we need them for food today!” she cries while pulling the money in the pirate's hands but to no avail, he easily snatched it away from her.

He grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair, yanking it towards him. “Shut your mouth, lady! Do you really think I give a fuck about your sob story!?” he shouted in her face. She couldn't do anything except cry. Her child helplessly tugs on her ragged skirt in an attempt to pull her away from the pirate.

A pool of water suddenly appears around his head. He panicked, quickly letting go of the money. He violently waves his hands, wiping away the water but it doesn't stop. In fact, it increases in mass. Not able to hold in his breath anymore, he opened his mouth which just allowed more water to enter his body. He falls to the ground, writhing in pain as he's slowly drowning in the mysterious pool of water that is wrapped just on his head. Dumbfounded, the lady looks at the floating string of water behind him. You stand there silently, the string of water fused with the tip of your finger.

He desperately looks at you, his eyes widened. He clearly wasn't expecting a Marine here and a devil fruit user at that. He moved his lips to mouth “Please stop” but you ignored his pleas. His face is starting to turn blue, the oxygen in his lungs is starting to run out. He falls to the ground, his hands still attempting to pull away the water.

You walk over to the lady and the child, turning them around so they wouldn't have to see you torturing that man. “It's not a pleasant sight, lady. I don't want your child to look at him,” you say to the poor trembling pair.

You let the pool of water melt to the ground, giving him the chance to breathe again. He immediately stood up, coughing with all his might to get rid of the water in his throat. As he begins to run, you quickly grab him by the collar of his shirt from behind, pulling him towards you. He falls to the ground once again. You pull out a tanto hidden behind your back and you swing it to the sky.

Before you could pierce through his arm to hold him in place, a huge piece of sharpened ice appeared before you and stabbed through the pirate's arm first. You look to your side, Kuzan stands there with one of his hands in his pocket and the other outside with ice surrounding his arm. The pirate writhes in pain, a string of profanity leaves his mouth. Blood oozes out but is immediately frozen by Kuzan's ice, undoubtedly making it more painful for him. You don't feel sympathy for him.

You stand up, facing Kuzan although you have to look up a bit. “I could've done it myself, you know,” you say to him, disappointed. You hide the tanto on your back again, your coat hides it for you. You watch as the pirate wriggles and screams in pain. Getting stabbed through your arm is one thing, but also having it frozen makes it worse. He managed to make him suffer more than you could. A feeling of envy crosses your heart.

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don't like seeing ladies in distress.” he motions to the mother and daughter who are still trembling from shock and fear.

You gather her scattered belongings on the ground using your water, putting them all back in her bag. You thought for a second. You pull out some money you stuffed in your pocket and put it in her bag without her noticing. You hand the bag to the mother. “Here. It's wet though, sorry 'bout that.”

Ignoring the bag, she immediately went to hug you. Since you're much taller than her, she's hugging your waist. Her child also ran to hug your leg. You almost stumbled backwards, not expecting that they would hug you.

“Thank you so much, miss! I don't know how to thank you enough. Can I cook you something later?”

“Eh… no, it's no problem, really. Don't worry 'bout it.”

You awkwardly pat both of them on their shoulders. Kuzan chuckles at the exchange.

You gently push both of them away from you. “I have to go, there are other pirates on this island. Go back to your home, okay?”

They obeyed and went to walk to their house which is not that far away from here. You and Kuzan watch them from afar, making sure no pirates would suddenly ambush them. After seeing them enter their house, you look at the pirate laying down below you. He didn't make any noise, you assume he had fainted. You see a glimpse of Jay, returning with two pirates laying on each of his shoulders. He's holding their bodies with his arms.

He stops to look at the fainted pirate with an icicle through his arm and his clotted blood staining both on him and the dirt on the ground. “Hm? Did you ask him to defeat him for you?” he jokingly teases.

You ignored Jay. You picked up the pirate and carried him to the Marine battleship, leaving Kuzan and Jay behind.

“What's up with her?”

“She doesn't like people being better than her.”

“Hah. Reminds me of someone.”

Notes:

1. I would've totally said yes to him. The reader is insane.

2. This chapter was partially inspired by Chapter 936's cover page.

3. A bit of the water-water fruit power showcase! No idea what I'm doing. It was at this time I decided to not make the reader use named attacks. Not only am I already bad at naming things, it would just look ridiculous in a written story.

Chapter 5: IV ; KNIVES OUT

Notes:

Chapter title is a song from Radiohead.

You walk through the long hallway, occasionally passing some chore boys and Seaman Recruits who would stop and greet you. You find that they always look plain and don't stand out, usually having black or brown hair and much, much shorter than you. It was understandable. After all, being low-rank doesn't give you the privilege to look how you want to look like - Hence why some of the higher-ups are always dressed like they are going to a fashion show. You even saw someone with his hat so tall you felt like breaking your neck just to see the top of it.

It's your week three being a Marine and you find it strangely mundane. Maybe it's because you just joined that you are only assigned to capture some nobodies who want to play pirates. So far, you haven't found someone that posed a real threat and danger to you. The fight would always end quickly and you are the victor every time. You wonder if the Fleet Admiral gave you the easy and boring assignments because you're still new and he's trying to make you get used to this.

You stare at the stack of papers you're holding in your hands, small text printed on it that you couldn't care enough to read and comprehend. But you do know that it's the boring paperwork that you have to sit in your office all day and deal with.

Perhaps it was your lack of attention or simply just the other's carelessness, but you accidentally bumped into someone which unfortunately sent the person falling to the ground. You glance down and see red glasses next to your shoes.

You carefully put the load of papers on the floor, making sure the ones on top won't fly off by taking off your gloves and putting it on top of it. You turn around and see a blue-haired woman sitting on the floor and rubbing her head in pain. You bend down to pick up her glasses.

“Sorry about that, I didn't see you.” you offer your free hand to her to which she accepts. You stand and pull her up, handing her the glasses.

“Ah, no, it's my fault! I'm very sorry,” she apologizes, putting on her glasses. She looked to the side and saw the stack of papers on the floor with a pair of black leather gloves on top, “I'll carry some of them for you, if that's alright?” she asked.

You had no problem holding them yourself, but you appreciate her offer. “Sure,” you simply replied, walking over to the papers to wear your gloves. You lift up the papers, leaving a quarter of it behind for her. She picks it up and begins walking side-by-side with you.

It was quiet for a while, but she breaks the silence. “You're the new Vice Admiral right?” she asks.

“That would be me.” you confirmed. “(Y/N).” you shortly introduce yourself.

“I'm Tashigi, it's very nice to meet you!” she cheerfully introduced herself back, you hum in response.

Both of you walked for a while, small talks in between to fill the awkward silence. Although, Tashigi was the one to ask the questions while you just answer. You turn to the room on the left, pushing the door open with your hand. Your office looks just like any other offices in the building, only some decorations here and there. It's not that you didn't want to make it more comfortable or look nicer, you don't know how to do it. You're not the best at interior designing.

You put the papers on your black wooden desk, Tashigi also putting her share of papers on it. She turns to look around the room, examining it with her mouth agape.

You went to sit on your chair, lifting both your legs so they rest on the desk in front of you while you lean back on your chair as much as possible to get comfortable. “Thank you for your help, Tashigi,” you say, crossing your fingers and resting them on your stomach.

Tashigi stands up straight and looks at you. “Oh, it's not a problem, (Y/N)-san.”

You stare at the plain white ceiling, already bored out of your mind. “Say, Tashigi.” you paused, darting your eyes over at her. “It's my third week here and I've never seen you before. Which branch are you from?” you ask.

“I'm from G-5. I'm here with Vice Admiral Smoker to report to Akainu-san,” she answers.

“I see,” you comment, finally putting down your legs. You pull yourself closer to your desk and grab a feather pen to start writing on your reports. “Take a seat on that couch next to you, Tashigi.” She immediately went to sit on the couch.

“G-5, huh. I heard that they are troublesome people. It's hard to believe that you're from that branch.”

“They are a handful, that's for sure. But Smoker-san always puts them in their place, it's admirable.”

You've heard of that name before. White Chase Smoker. You were told that he's the one that saved Arabasta from the former warlord Crocodile's tyranny but Jay told you that it was actually the Straw Hat Pirates that defeated Crocodile. He also told you that the Marine tried to cover up the incident and promoted Smoker to commodore to which Smoker blatantly cursed the World Government and told them to eat shit. You had a blast laughing out loud after hearing that story.

You can't help but let out a small chuckle a little after remembering that story. “Haha. Yeah, I heard about that Smoker guy. Seems like a great guy.”

She smiles, you can tell that she really respects Smoker.

You hear a bell ringing through the hallways. Both you and Tashigi look at the digital clock you hanged on the wall, 12 p.m. It's time for lunch.

You immediately stood up, slamming your pen on your desk and stretching yourself. “Well, that's the bell,” you say, signaling your head to the door to tell Tashigi to also go for lunch.

 

---

 

“You fucking moron, what have you done?”

You hear a commotion right when you enter the cafeteria. The head cook is tightly gripping a chore boy's uniform who is visibly trembling in fear and embarrassment. Everyone is looking at them. Whispers can be heard around you; some are sympathizing with the poor chore boy and some are complaining about when they are able to eat. Amidst the commotion, you discreetly glance at Tashigi next to you. A frown on her face. You look over to the yelling head cook, who is next to a rather fancy chair and table located in the room specifically for the Fleet Admiral.

Ah. Spilled food on the table and liquid on the chair with the fabric and cushion absorbing it.

Tears begin welling at the chore boy's eyes and you can't help but feel bad for him. “I'm so sorry sir, I didn't mean to spill it I swe—”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! I oughta kill you right here, boy. Do you realize that the food you spilled is the one that I cooked myself and out of all places, you spilled it on the fucking Fleet Admiral's spot!?”

“I do! I'll clean them, I'm sorry!”

The head cook lets go of his grip, sending the chore boy falling to the floor. He puts his hand on hip, the other gripping his temples. He looks down to the floor, jaws clenched tightly to stop himself from hurdling another set of curses at the trembling boy on the floor. It's taking everything in him to not just pick up the already ruined chair and throw it at him.

“I don't have enough patience for this,” he speaks through gritted teeth.

What an unfortunate person and timing. The Fleet Admiral is going to arrive any minute now, cleaning it in time is not possible. Cooking something new takes even longer. And you're starting to get hungry.

You shift uncomfortably from standing in the same spot for too long. There are way too many people standing in front of you who are watching the exchange happening in front of them in amusement. “I'll go sit first,” you whisper to Tashigi. She just nods in response.

You push through the crowd, they immediately make way for you once they see your face and the coat draping on your shoulders. You make your way to a long rectangle table with chairs on each side. This is where the Vice Admirals and Admirals sit for dining. At first, you find it annoying to eat with a lot of people around you but you got used to it. The chairs are already filled with Vice Admirals, leaving only two seats. You decided to sit at the one second closest to the edge, the chair next to you is empty.

It was then that you heard heavy footsteps approaching the cafeteria. You immediately knew who it was.

The door swung open, the Fleet Admiral himself standing right at the entrance. His eyes looking over at his seat which is ruined with the spilled food. The crowd that are so immersed in the chaos before quickly stands up straight with their hand doing the Marine salutation to show respect to the Fleet Admiral. Those in his way are now standing at the sides, creating a path for him. The head cook has panic in his eyes, along with the clumsy chore boy. He immediately stands up and does the salutation.

“F-Fleet Admiral, sir! I am so sorry to inform you that your seat is not in a good condition and- and your food spilled!” The head cook speaks in a rushed way, his head is already thinking of how to recook the spilled food in a short time, “If… If you could wait a little, I'll have your food ready in thirty minutes…” his words trailed off, hoping to God that he won't get yelled at.

A loud sigh escapes his mouth, you notice that his cigar is no longer where it usually is. He glances at the dining hall for the high-ranks, spotting an empty seat. Lifting his feet, he walks over to the table. “Have it ready in fifteen,” he demands from the cooking staff, not sparing a look at them.

The head cook takes the chance to give a death look at the chore boy next to him. “Well, get moving, boy. Clean it up!” he raised his voice, to which the boy hurriedly stood up and ran to get the nearest cleaning supplies.

You sit silently at your chair, eyeing the only empty seat that is next to you. He's going to sit there, isn't he? He totally is. You bite your lip, as if eating with too many people isn't awkward enough, you had to sit and eat next to the Fleet Admiral today. You don't blame the poor chore boy, but you wish that he didn't mess up so this situation wouldn't even happen in the first place. You stare at the empty plate placed in front of you with silverwares on each side. It was not interesting, you just don't want to look at him.

You hear footsteps and feel a breeze behind you. A hand harshly grabs the top of the chair's back and pulls it backwards to create space between the chair and the table to sit. You can finally see a large frame next to you through your peripheral vision. Sakazuki is sitting next to you.

In your three weeks of working as a Marine, you never strike a conversation with anyone while eating your lunch. Just the occasional "Can you pass me that salt?" and "Are you going to eat those cucumbers?” but never a full-blown conversation. It might have created a negative reputation for you for being too quiet but you just prefer to eat in silence. You don't want to accidentally spit out your food or something. That would be embarrassing.

And you're definitely not going to change that now. You've seen how the Fleet Admiral yells at people for doing a single thing wrong, even if it's a minor mistake. You don't like getting yelled at, at all. You would definitely yell back but you still know how to respect your superiors. Raising your voice at them is out of the question.

Also, what is it with men and manspreading at any chance they have? Your knees are touching and he didn't even make an attempt to pull his leg away from yours. And even more strange, you aren't moving an inch either. You're not sure why yourself.

You see him reaching into his pants pocket, pulling out a brand new cigar. His hand melted into magma, lighting up the cigar and putting it in his mouth, inhaling the tobacco and whatever else there is in it. You thought to yourself, it must be convenient having magma powers for a smoker. You don't even have to spend your money on buying lighters that would run out quickly for a heavy smoker like him. He exhales the smoke, to which you turn your head away to avoid inhaling it.

“Can't handle a little smoke, Vice Admiral?”

You feel your heart skip a beat.

The crowded cafeteria and dining hall suddenly ceased to produce noises. You look back at the Fleet Admiral, his bored eyes looking back at you. For a moment, you thought the world stopped and it was only the two of you. His arms crossed to his chest, shoulders relaxed and leaning back to the chair. The cap visor barely shows his eyes, but you could tell he's staring right into you.

You cough, although your throat was perfectly empty and no lump sitting there. “Of course I can.” flustered, you look down at your plate. Even when your eyes aren't on him, you could still feel his eyes on you. “I just don't like the smell,” you briefly explain.

He inhales his cigar again. This time, lifting his head and exhaling the smoke to the top. “Get used to it,” he replied.

Oh, you'll get used to it. In a million years or so. You've never found yourself able to tolerate the smell of the smoke. While Jay is not a chronic smoker like others, he's often seen with a cigarette on his mouth. Although, it's usually not lit. You told him once that you don't like the smell and he respects it. It is kind of ridiculous seeing a man with an unlit cigarette in his mouth walking around.

And then it was silent. Not a comfortable one at that, it was rather awkward (only to you, he is completely fine). The food had already arrived and you took no time to fill up your plate. You chow down on your food, a bit more rushed than usual. You couldn't tell if it's because of the huge stack of paperworks in your office that you want to get it over with as soon as you can or because you're sitting next to the Fleet Admiral who is oddly making you nervous. Minutes later you see a waitress delivering his foods to him which are Katsudon, Yakitori and a side of Onigiri. Sake is his choice of drink.

And your knees are still touching. Neither of you moved.

Despite the loud chattering of the busy cafeteria, somehow, you can only be focused on two things. One, your food. Two, him. You can't help but sneak glances at him when he isn't looking. You find yourself looking at how sharp his jawline is or the visible veins running along his hands to his arm when he's holding the Sake. Although you hate to admit it to anyone, hell, even yourself, you're admiring his looks. You definitely are, and you hate it. You are well aware that these glances are wildly inappropriate for a subordinate to their boss. But damn it all, you can't peel your eyes off of him.

“Are you going to keep staring or are you going to tell me if there's something on my face?” he asks, putting down the Sake bottle after gulping the last bit.

You quickly stand up, “No, there's nothing on your face.” you step away from your chair.

He rests his arm on the top rail of the chair you sat on earlier, crossing his legs. “Okay.” he looks at you, “You do, though, Vice Admiral.” he points to the side of his mouth with his finger.

You immediately grab some tissues and harshly wipe the surroundings of your mouth. Sure enough, you see a small amount of ketchup spread on the tissue. Cursing under your breath as you throw the wrinkled used tissue into the garbage bin near you. “Sorry. And thank you, Fleet Admiral-han.” you give him a forced smile, turning around to exit the dining hall.

He stares you down as your figure slowly gets further and further away and finally disappears from his sight

He huffs, “Fleet Admiral-han,” he repeated under his breath.

Notes:

1. While rereading this fic, I noticed I tend to include a character in a chapter only for them to never appear again lol

2. I think at this point I have to say that "Fleet Admiral-han" is way too long to say. But that's only in English, if it was in Japanese it would've been "Gensui-han" and that sounds so much better.

3. This was a sad attempt to create some sort of tension. Idk what I'm doing man...

Chapter 6: V ; LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Bodies by Drowning Pool.

A loud bang echoes through the room as he slams his hand onto the desk, leaving it shaking from the sheer impact. His hand tightly grips the Den Den Mushi's receiver to the verge of breaking it. The cigar sitting in his mouth is no longer used for smoking, it was simply something for him to bite on hard to show his wrath.

“Aramaki, are you seriously telling me that not only you let Monkey D. Luffy escape, but you also let a mere wave of Conqueror's haki get the best of you?” His voice is stern and clear, albeit still sounding calm. He is far from calm - like a volcano, his anger is slowly building up inside him and slowly but surely, it will soon erupt.

Aramaki could only answer him with a moment of silence.

Offended by the silent treatment, he speaks again, this time his voice is more fierce and louder. “I entrusted this task to you and this is how you repay me. You're making the Marine look like fools and at this point, we're losing the little bit of face we have left after what Issho did back in Dressrosa. You are a fucking admiral, for fuck's sake. Have you got no shame!?” he yelled, not caring if anyone hears him. In fact, they are used to it by now. Hearing shoutings from the Fleet Admiral's office is nothing new.

 

---

 

You rest your body against the ship's railings. A loud muffled scream can be heard below the floor you are on. That is a scream from the pirate you just defeated and captured, you got tired of his constant screaming and thrashing so you tied him to the wall and sealed his mouth shut with a duct tape. It is still not very quiet, but it is more peaceful than before. And you are satisfied enough with that.

The Den Den Mushi in the cabin rings, you push yourself and walk towards it. You pick up the phone.

“(Y/N) speaking,” you lazily introduce yourself, staring at the waving sea in front of you.

“Vice Admiral.” a hoarse voice speaks through the Den Den Mushi. You recognize the voice.

You watch as a trading ship sails by through the blue ocean. A flock of seagulls flying and soaring through the clear sky above you. You lean your back on the desk, enjoying the rather beautiful view and ignoring the muffled screams. “Fleet Admiral-han,” you greet him back nonchalantly.

“I'm a firm believer of not praising someone for doing their job, but well done on capturing that pirate,” he says.

You were taken back. You heard from numerous people that hearing him say "well done" is like digging for water in lava. It is something that is not capable of occurring, ever. But here you are, hearing him say those very words to you through this Den Den Mushi that resembles him.

You stayed quiet for a while, not knowing what to say.

Not wanting to make him wait for a response any longer, you finally break the silence. “...Thank you? To what do I owe you this pleasure of your rare praise?” you ask.

He scoffs, “Nothing. I just felt like lowering my standards right now.”

And the line goes dead.

You stare at the Den Den Mushi, its eyes are closed, signaling that the other end of the line disconnected from the call. Capturing that pirate was not even that impressive, you felt bored when a couple punches and splash of water defeated him. "Lowering his standards" implies that it was in fact not very impressive to him. Although it was odd, you could only think of one reason why he did what he did. Someone pissed him off for not doing their job right.

But he still praised you out of all people.

Which probably doesn't mean anything considering the kind of person he is, and that disappointed you. You're not sure why yourself. Perhaps, deep down, you like being praised and complimented for doing a good job.

It was then that a cannonball shot right next to you, destroying the walls in process. You ducked down just in time due to your observation haki, shielding your head and neck from being pierced by the splintered woods. You look down to the hole caused by the explosion from the cannonball, seeing the pirate you captured earlier already dead with blood oozing out from every part of his body. The right side of his face is blown off, leaving peeks of his face muscle and fractured skull.

You immediately sprint outside, a pirate ship just meters away from your ship.

The chore boys and recruits are running around trying to shield themselves but also prepare the ship's cannon to counterattack.

You try to take a good look at the pirate ship of whom you do not recognize. It's probably some nameless wannabe pirate but you still won't allow them to destroy the ship and hurt the people on it. You jump and land your hand on one of the cannonballs flying towards your ship, hurling it back at them and exploding their dock.

“Get away from here and save yourselves. I'll stop them.” you instruct the crew on board of the ship.

“Wait, Vice Admiral (Y/N), that's too dangero—!'' Before the recruit could finish his sentence, you had already jumped from the ship and landed onto the pirate ship.

Forming a giant wave of water, you pushed the ship away and successfully turned them away far enough so that the cannonballs would have a lesser chance of hitting them and causing a fatality. You turn your back to them and show your face to the pirate crew. You recognize not one of them, which makes you wonder even more why they would dare to attack a Marine warship. Was it perhaps because the captured dead pirate was one of them? Not very smart of them, then, considering they just killed him.

“You've got some nerves attacking a Marine ship like that, do all of you have some sort of death wish or something?” you ask, gritting your teeth as hard as you could.

One of them laughs, a loud and obnoxious one. You assume that's their captain. “Maybe we do, but it's worth trying to get that massive bounty on your head, lady!” He yells, aiming both his guns at you. You see a small sack strapped to the front of his waist. A bullet is seen peeking out of it, and it's definitely no ordinary bullet. It's a seastone bullet.

Not giving them time to react, you dash forward and kick him in the stomach and cause the sack to fall to the floor. You create a huge wave of water and send the other crew members off the ship and to the sea, leaving only the captain on board who is writhing on the floor in pain from the kick to the stomach. You waste no time to grab his dirty collar, “Hey asshole, do I look like a pirate to you? What is this nonsense about me having a bounty?” you ask, tightening your grip.

Despite the pain in his lower abdomen, he dryly laughs. “You're not a very bright one, are you? Didn't you hear that the Cross Guild is now issuing bounties on Marines!?”

Cross Guild, an organization apparently led by the Bombastic Clown Buggy. Even more surprising, Hawk-eye Mihawk and Sir Crocodile seem to work under him. You have definitely heard of them putting bounties on Marines' heads but you didn't expect to have one on your head so quickly after joining. You take out your tanto and hold it to his neck, causing him to flinch hard.

“I'm not stupid. I've heard of that,” you say, pressing the blade closer to his neck and creating a small cut with blood dripping down. “Massive bounty, you said?”

The pirate squealed around under your grip, attempting to get further away from the sharp blade. “Fuck! Don't kill me, damn it!” he yells. “Yes, massive! I heard that your bounty is about 400 million Berries!”

You couldn't believe your ears. 400 million Berries? That's almost half a billion.

You move the tanto right under his jaw, threatening to stab through it. “I don't get it. Why would I have that much bounty on my head?” you ask.

He holds his head looking to the sky, pulling his jaw away from your tanto. “Hell if I know! I thought it was just a mistake, I can't fathom a new female Vice Admiral having that high of a bounty,” he answers.

Of course he looks down on women. You're not surprised.

You look at the horizon, not seeing your warship anymore. You hope that they could at least get to a safer place and not crash anywhere. You look back down at the pirate you're holding. An idea pops inside your brain. You turn him to face the helm of his ship.

He looks at you puzzled, you start to get impatient. “Captain Smart-ass, sail this ship to Marine Headquarters,” you demand.

He grits his teeth, “Do I look like someone that knows where the fuck that is?” he shoots back.

“I have the goddamn Eternal Log Pose for it, genius.”

“You're not seriously telling me that I, a pirate, go to the Marine Headquarters and hand myself in?”

“Well, either that or I kill you right here and find my way there on my own and hand them your corpse.”

He didn't object any more after that.

After making sure that he is at the helm and sailing the ship to the right destination, you sit near him to keep an eye on him and also pointing his own gun at him. That'll keep him on his toes. You see a Den Den Mushi on the old rusty table beside you. Taking your eyes off him, you stretch your hand to grab the receiver to dial Marine Headquarters. You dial the number.

“Puru puru puru puru puru…”

You wait for them to respond.

“Gacha.”

“Speak.” a voice finally responds to your call.

“This is Vice Admiral (Y/N), I'm sure my men told you about it but a pirate attacked my ship and I went and landed on the pirate's ship,” you speak to the voice.

A loud sigh can be heard. “I'm aware of that,” he says. By this point, you could already guess the receiver of the call from the obvious frustration coming from his voice. “And the pirate you were bringing here is dead from being hit with a cannonball.”

“Yeah, I know. I'll bring you another pirate. I'm heading there right now on a pirate's ship,” you say.

“Finally, good news for once.” he hangs up the call.

You put down the receiver, looking at the shaking pirate in front of you. He flinches when you look at him.

“It's just over there,” he points to the building in the distance. “So don't kill me, please,” he begs, side-eyeing the gun in your hand.

You tilt your head, considering his request to live. “I'll consider that,” you respond, reloading the gun you were threatening him with that was actually empty this whole time.

 

---

 

“...and that's what happened.”

He looks down at the wanted poster in front of him. A 25 million Berries bounty and his name is apparently Petiri the Bellfire. What a stupid epithet, fitting for a stupid man. It's no wonder why he has a low bounty.

He thinks for a while, putting down the poster on his desk and crossing his arms. His head tilted to the front, hiding his upper face.

“He said the bounty the Cross Guild put out for you is 400 million Berries,” he repeated the information you gave him. You nod in confirmation.

You rub your nape, “He did. I'm confused about that, I don't think I'm worth that much.”

He blows smoke out of his mouth, “What you are worth is not important. I'm irritated about how some lowly pirates dare to put bounties on Marines' heads,” he looks at the Cross Guild poster next to Petiri's wanted poster. Buggy's face is plastered on top, with Crocodile and Mihawk below him. It seems that he is the mastermind behind this organization. “The hunters are the one being hunted. That brings shame to us Marines.”

You stay silent. In your head, you wonder what his bounty is seeing that yours is already high enough. It would probably be around 5 billion Berries.

“In addition to that, Straw Hat Luffy is now out of Wano Country and currently, Blackbeard and Trafalgar Law have made contact on Winner Island.” he clenches his jaw. Magma forming on his hand and burning both the posters sitting on his desk. “We can do nothing but wait again. It's so damn frustrating.”

Being the Fleet Admiral in this era is a tiring job, indeed. You can't imagine the amount of stress he has right now. It only seems like it's decreasing and only increasing by the day. If he finally went and fought on his own, you wouldn't be surprised. Given the circumstances, that's the only logical thing to do. You can't help but feel bad for him.

He sighs, finally stopping lowering his head. His eyes lock with yours.

“In any case, good job again. You're doing remarkably well for someone that just enlisted.”

Another praise from him… this doesn't feel real. Not one bit.

You didn't question it. It feels oddly nice hearing him, and only him, praise you. Which is weird, because you had always rejected praises and compliments from everyone else. For some reason, it feels different this time.

“Um,” you stutter. “Thank you, I appreciate the praise, Fleet Admiral-han.”

He just nods, “Don't mention it, you're free to go. Don't slack off now, Vice Admiral.”

You immediately turn around to exit his office, your heart is beating way too rapidly. As you descend down the flight of stairs, you wonder why you feel this way. It's so out of character for you and you are painfully aware of how inappropriate this is. But still… Hearing praise from someone that never praises is a huge thing. Especially when it's directed to you.

You don't know the exact answer as to why you're behaving this way around him, but you hope that it's just a simple professional admiration of a subordinate towards their superior and it'll pass soon.

It would be a big problem if that feeling gets stronger.

Notes:

1. The first real hint as to where we are in the story!

2. I would love to be praised by this man. I think it would complete my life.

3. Petiri the Bellfire - shoutout to my friends for helping me with his name and epithet. I love how absolutely ridiculous it is.

Chapter 7: VI ; BED OF ROSES

Notes:

Chapter title is a song by Bon Jovi.

You stare at the plain boring ceiling, your arms crossed behind your head to act as an extra pillow. Your mind is still occupied with that incident earlier, you can't seem to get it out of your head. You could smell medications and used bandages around you; it's not a pleasant smell but it's not a horrible one either. You feel relaxed.

You look at the window on your right, seeing your reflection on the tinted glass. There's a small band-aid on your left cheek and a cleaned cut on your lower lip. You pull out your right hand behind your head, examining your bandaged hand. That explosion from the cannonball wounded you, although it didn't hurt in the slightest. In fact, you didn't even notice it until after Jay pointed it out. He offered to bandage you up and you gladly took the offer. You don't feel like going to your personal office and doing the paperwork.

The open window brings in wind from outside, and you start to feel chilly. You grab your coat sitting by your legs, covering your body with it to act as a makeshift blanket. The warmness comforts you. This bed feels too comfortable, you just might start sleeping soon.

You would have slept if not for Jay suddenly pulling the curtain around you open. You look at him, a stethoscope sitting neatly around his neck. His coat is no longer on his shoulders, he is now wearing the standard white doctor coat. His other hand is resting in the coat's pocket. His round sunglasses on the tip of his nose, he didn't fix it.

He raised an eyebrow. “I didn't think your wounds were that serious, yet you're still laying there. How long has it been, (Y/N)-san? One and a half hours?” he asks.

You sigh, pulling your coat to cover your body better. “I don't feel like going out right now. Let me lay here for a while, I won't be noisy,” you request, turning your body away to face the window instead.

“Is something bothering you so much that you prefer this infirmary over your comfortable office?” he asks another question, this time pulling a wheeled chair to sit on while he looks through the papers on his desk.

You keep quiet for a while.

“Maybe,” you shortly answer.

He clicks his pen, writing something on a paper. “And what would that be? I'll listen to you while I do this paperwork.”

You watch through the open window as a flock of seagulls fly past the New Marineford. “Are you my therapist now?” you sarcastically ask, “It's nothing. It'll go away.”

He spins his chair to look at you, though your back is turned. “Don't be like that, (Y/N)-san. I'm your friend, aren't I?”

You start to feel bad. “Of course you are,” you reassure him, “It's just… a trivial thing. It's dumb, really.”

Both of you didn't say anything after that. You're not sure what to say. It really is a trivial matter… you feel like you're making it a bigger problem than it really is. It wasn't even a problem to begin with. Perhaps, you're blowing this out of proportion. It's just a damn praise , no need to make such a big deal out of it. Acting like a fool is the last thing you want in life.

This awkwardness is killing you on the inside. You wonder why Jay hasn't uttered a word either. Maybe he's fed up with you?

“So…” Jay starts to speak, “Is it about Akainu?”

Your heart dropped upon hearing his question. You slowly turn over to face him, Jay just stares at you. You can't read his expression. You want to say something but nothing comes out. You don't know how to answer his question.

He turns to his desk, picking up his pen again. “I won't force you if you don't want to talk about it.”

You push yourself to sit up. “No, it's not that I don't want to.” you pause. “I don't know how to explain it— He's strange, in a way.”

Jay puts the paper he worked on earlier on top of a stack of papers next to him, pulling another paper to write on. “Strange?” he asks.

You bite your lip. You're not sure what you're saying either. “Not like, weird, or something.” you think for a while. “I'm confused on why he's oddly calm with me. He'd never raise his voice at me, which contradicts everything I've heard about him.”

Jay lets out a chuckle, you just tilt your head at him. “I thought about that too.” he looks at you. “Actually, I've never seen or heard him raise his voice at a woman.”

He leans back on his chair, crossing his arms. “Did you know? Two years ago after the Summit War, he was sent to Blackbeard because he wanted to hand Jewelry Bonney in and even requested a Marine Warship. Of course, they didn't give him. After realizing that Akainu was the one on board the ship, they immediately left, leaving Bonney alone. She's a pirate, but I heard from those that came with him that they saw him speaking normally to her.”

Your eyes widen, “That can't be true,” you comment.

“It is, apparently. The one that raised their voice was Bonney, not him. He despises pirates to no extent but he didn't kill Bonney. Perhaps he was ordered to not execute her but it's hard to believe that he didn't even yell at her.”

Sakazuki is all about justice and abolishing pirates. You didn't think that it was possible he would ever speak calmly to one, much less letting them go scot-free. You start to wonder if they just made it up to make him seem more humane than he is. You barely know anything about him. He's more chivalrous than you would think. The more you know, huh?

You don't know if it's a good thing that you're starting to think of him more of a human rather than the monster he's known for.

You slide your legs over to the edge of the bed, letting your legs lift you up as you stand to pat the mattress so that there would be less wrinkles. You take your coat and let it sit on your shoulders, looking at a mirror while doing so.

Jay looks at your reflection in the mirror. “Do you feel fine now?” he asks.

You pull your tie to make it tighter and neater. “I've always been fine. I'll go and take a stroll at the garden,” you say, stepping to the door of the infirmary. On your way there, you see some people sleeping on the beds with various bandages and bruises on them. Well, at least they didn't hear your conversation with Jay earlier.

 

---

 

You step on the stone steps, walking carefully to not accidentally step on the grass. You don't want to ruin the plants and also to not have dirt on your shoes. The garden is filled with colorful plants, most of them are flowers. Some big bonsai trees can be seen. This is a relaxing place to be in, a great place to escape to after being in a fight or even a war. You have been here a couple of times, and you enjoy it every time.

You're not particularly good at taking care of plants, even less a garden but you try to help and water them from time to time. Since the Fleet Admiral is holding you back from bigger and tougher missions, you have to stay at the New Marineford and occasionally go out to catch some pirates. You find it boring so you always take the time to explore around the building and discover new places. The garden is your favourite so far.

You sit down on a wooden bench, located just in front of growing flowers. You never cared about plants before but after discovering this place, you searched up information about the plants here. Lilacs, lavenders, jasmines, forget-me-nots and roses. There are more but these are the ones you can identify as of now. Among the many different species of flowers, the roses are the most populated one. Maybe someone here is a big fan of roses…

There are also quite a big amount of bonsai trees. They are all huge and that tells you that they are old and well taken care of. 

This garden is not only filled with floura, there are also fauna. You see some worms here and there and you try your best to avoid them. You don't like worms. Other than that, there are also Den Den Mushis that just roam around. You guess that they get tired too as they are often seen either eating or sleeping. You find them adorable. Sometimes they would crawl over to you and you always take the chance to give them a pet and also feed them something.

You see one already crawling over to you. You recognize it from the little scar on its face, you named it Zoom. It's not capable of zooming like the name suggests, but it's cute and ironic.

“Hey Zoom, you look great today,” you say, petting its shell.

Zoom looks at you with hungry eyes. “Oh, of course.” you take out small bits of carrot. “You know, I stole these from lunch earlier. I don't know why I've been buying them all this time, this is way cheaper.”

You put the carrots down in front of it, to which it gladly munch on them. You stretch your arms, resting them on top of the backrest. You sit quietly, enjoying the silence with the ambience of crunchings from the carrots and the wind softly blowing through the air. If you were to unwind anywhere after being in a battle, it would be this very garden.

As Zoom eats its carrots, you softly pet its shell. It's faint, but you can hear it purring - similar to that of a cat. “It must be nice being a little snail,” you say to Zoom, not expecting a response. “Do you think that if I was born a snail, I would've never done that?”

“Done what?”

Your instincts immediately made you look to the source of the voice, which is from above.

It's none other than the Fleet Admiral himself.

“Oh, I—” you stammer, “Nothing… Sorry, I didn't notice you.”

You want to hit yourself in the head. You were too caught up in talking to an animal that won't contribute a single thing to your conversation that you didn't notice someone was here in the garden with you. And out of all people, it had to be him…

He looks to the plants in front of you, “What business do you have here, Vice Admiral?” he asks.

You look at the bundle of pink roses planted in front of you, which you just now realize looks like the one on the left buttonhole of his double-breasted suit.

“I can ask you the same thing, Fleet Admiral-han. I thought you're not allowed to be roaming the building at your rank.”

He crosses his arms, “Why wouldn't I be? I run things around here, I can go wherever I please,” he retorts.

He got a point there, you thought.

You watch him from the back. His shoulders are so broad that you can't be seen sitting behind if someone were to stand in front of him. Even when he's clothed, you could still see just how muscled he is. You wonder what he looks like with his shirt off.

Wait, what?

It was as if your body moved on its own, your own hand slapped you across the face. The sheer power in your own slap made your face fly to the right. He turns around when he hears the loud smack produced from your hand. He just looks at you, not a single word out of him. You feel heat rising to your cheeks. When will you stop embarrassing yourself in front of him?

You cup your sore left cheek, now red from the impact. “...there was a mosquito,” you sheepishly say.

“That's a bit too harsh of a slap for a mere insect.” he moves his gaze to your cheek.

It's starting to sting, you hiss to yourself. “I hate mosquitoes…” you mumble, not caring if he heard or not because you look like a fool either way. No amount of explanation can save you from the embarrassment of this situation.

He didn't question any more after that.

He looks at the bonsai trees, examining each and every one of them. It seems like one of them is damaged or some sort, as he went and left for a while to search for something. He came back with a shear in his hand. You look at the bonsai tree he was observing earlier, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Perhaps it's just your inexperience with plants.

He walked over to it, his right hand holding the branch and the other holding the shear. He brings his hand closer to its leaves, using the shear to cut some of the leaves.

“What are you doing?” you ask out of curiosity.

He glances back at you momentarily, before turning his head back to focus on the bonsai tree. “I'm trimming the leaves. It's more grown than the last time I was here.” he answers your question.

You stare, mesmerized at the way his hand moves. In that rough and scarred hand, he gently and delicately holds the frail life. Maybe those hands are still capable of love. “ How long has that been?” you ask again.

Snip, he trims the leaf. “About a week ago. These bonsai trees all belong to me, but I don't always have the time to care for them. I usually leave it to the chore boys.” he looks back at you. “Although, I don't trust them that much. Which is why I have to come down here myself sometimes and make sure they're taken care of by someone who actually knows what he's doing.”

You just let out a small "oh" in acknowledgement. It seems like he has a green thumb, something you didn't know before. You feel like Sakazuki is an interesting man after all.

You suddenly remembered something. “Actually,” you speak, hopping off the bench to leave Zoom eating the carrots alone. You look at the ground where there are countless pots. “I planted something here like, three weeks ago.”

You squat to the ground, searching for a seedling among the pots.

He looks at you from above, watching as you frantically move your head to search for that seedling. “What is it?” he asks.

You let your lips form a small smile when you find it. You lift your head to look at him, pointing to the little seedling in a clay pot with your name written on it. “It's a rose. I know there are a lot of roses already, but I've never planted anything before so I wanted to try something new,” you ramble to him.

He squats down next to you and observes the seedling. He lets out an amused hum. “It's looking good so far. If you keep the water consistent, it'll bloom just fine.” he advises.

Then, you smell something. Amidst the garden of flowers, you smelled something unnatural. You steal a glance at Sakazuki, realizing that both of you are separated by mere inches away. Not too far but definitely close enough to smell his cologne. You scoot over a little farther away from him. Your heart is already beating like crazy.

“Your heart is beating unusually fast,” he suddenly speaks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You look at him with wide eyes, “I… pardon?” you want to disappear at that point.

You heard him loud and clear; his voice has never been too low for you to hear. You clear your throat, your heart is now beating even faster than before. Is his observation haki so good that he can even hear your heartbeats? You're not sure if that's a blessing or a curse. Probably a curse, for an idiot like you.

His eyes are looking at yours. You want to look away so bad but for some reason, your entire body won't move; not even your eyeballs.

“Do I make you nervous, Vice Admiral?”

You damn near collapsed right here and there. Your head is filled with too many thoughts at once, your cheeks feel too hot, and your heart is trying to pump blood at an alarming speed.

You finally get the courage to look away, to the pot where your little seedling is. “Well, that should be obvious…” you trail off. “You are the Fleet Admiral after all, and I'm just another Vice Admiral.”

He stands up, dusting off the dirt on his white pants. He went to put back where the shear originally was. You continue squatting, despite your calves getting sore from supporting your weight for too long. You don't dare to lift your head and look at him.

“Vice Admiral,” he calls you out. You have no chance but to look at him, as a sign of respect.

“No need to be nervous. I don't bite people.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “Right, of course…”

He pulls out a brand new cigar from his pockets, using just his magma to light it up. He turns his back to you, away from the plants so that the smoke won't reach them (and you, perhaps?).

“Unless you give me a reason to.”

Before you can respond, he disappeared from your sight. You finally stand up, turning around to look at Zoom who is still munching on the carrots… snails eat real slow, don't they?

You lift Zoom up to the sky, you look at it and it looks back at you. Its expression is unbothered.

“Zoom… what the hell did he mean by that?”

Hell if I know, Zoom thought to himself.

Notes:

1. So out of character, it hurts my head.

2. After reading chapter 1092, I should probably rewrite that bit but honestly, I couldn't be bothered to.

3. Biting? That's freaky, Fleet Admiral.

Chapter 8: VII ; NEVER CHAINED BUT NEVER FREE

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from So Far Away by Avenged Sevenfold.

You slam down your last remaining cards on the table, earning frustrated grunts from your subordinates as they also put down their cards on the table.

“There, I won again,” you proudly announce your victory, grabbing the glass of orange juice on the table and drinking it. Chugging down the cold beverage, you make sure to let some ice fall into your mouth for you to chew on.

Brass rests his head on the table, using his arms as his pillows. “You're too good at this, (Y/N)-san,” he complains.

You reply to his complaint with a sly smile.

You look around your surroundings, looking out for the criminal you were assigned to observe. After a month and a half of working as a Marine, you finally get to capture a hot-shot criminal. Although it is just someone with a 278 million Berries bounty, it's certainly better than the usual less than 50 million Berries. They were too easy to defeat, you had hoped that they could at least put up a fight.

Your task is more interesting this time. You have to infiltrate this island that is supposedly governed by a rather known underworld criminal, Seer Vehemoth, by acting like pirates. Leaning back to your chair, you watch the civilians walking around the town filled with stands. Variety of foods and items are being sold, you don't care enough about any of them. You're not here to shop.

Among these sellers, you are told that one of them is secretly smuggling weapons under the pretense of being an innocent seller trying to make ends meet. You hate to admit it, but they are doing a damn good job at it. You've observed the sellers for some time now and none of them stands out from the rest.

Not making direct eye contact, you ask your subordinate who is standing in front of you to act as a look-out for anyone suspicious. “Cafune, don't you see anyone acting out of the ordinary?”

“Not yet, (Y/N)-san. They are really careful, it's no wonder they've been undetected until now,” she replies, keeping her back facing you.

You grip the handle of the tanto you've hidden underneath your coat, “Mhm. Keep an eye out for me, Cafune.” you hide your tanto further into your coat.

You pull your right wrist to your face, turning on the little Den Den Mushi watch. “Shinji, anything on your end?” you ask, wondering what he is doing since you told him to keep an eye out at a different place.

“You called right on time, (Y/N)-san,” Shinji whispers. “There's a strange man. He's wearing a mask and black sunglasses and his attire is in black. He's carrying a duffle bag. It looks like he's waiting for someone.”

You stare at the wanted poster in front of you. It shows Vehemoth's face with a deep frown displayed on his face. His skin is brown and his eyes are red. His medium ragged hair is grey and he's wearing a black fedora. His entire body isn't shown but you could see that he is wearing a black suit and a black trenchcoat. His beard is white. Among the dark outfit, his facial hair really stands out underneath his hat.

He looks familiar.

“Can you describe him further?” you request Shinji.

Shinji observes the mysterious man. He is standing and leaning against a wall. His head hangs low, looking at the floor - seemingly not letting anyone get a good look at his face. His hand tightly grips the handle of the duffle bag.

“His hair is grey and his skin is brown. I can't see his eyes well from up here, but I think they are red. His lower face is covered but I can see some scars on the upper half. He's quite tall— actually, really tall.”

You nod your head. His descriptions match that of Seer Vehemoth. “That's definitely our guy. But something is off about him.”

Atticus leans closer to the Den Den Mushi he shares with Shinji. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Vehemoth… he looks familiar.”

“Have you met him before?”

“Perhaps it's just a coincidence. My memory is not that good.”

Shinji darts his eyes over at the man again. He didn't move an inch, still in the same position as he was earlier. This time he looks at his wristwatch.

“Don't take your eyes off him. Call me when you need help,” you command him through the snail.

“Will do.”

As you turn off your watch, a kid runs in front of you. Not seeing the rock on the ground, he accidentally stepped on it and tripped. Brass immediately stands up and walks over to the kid, helping him stand up. He wipes off the dirt on his knees.

Brass looks at him, “Are you alright, kid? You oughta be more careful next time,” he asks, pulling out a napkin from his pocket and wiping the dirt on the kid's cheek.

He rubs his head, “Yes, I'm okay. Thank you, old guy!”

Brass furrows his eyebrows, “Old…? I'm only 29…”

The kid turns to you, sticking his hands in his pockets and pulling out a piece of crumpled envelope. “This is for you, lady!” he says, handing you the envelope.

You raise an eyebrow, hesitantly taking the envelope from his hands. “For me? From who?” you ask, looking at the envelope. No recipient is written on it, nor the sender.

He just shrugs his shoulders, wiping off the snot in his nose. “Dunno. A weird guy told me to give it to you earlier in exchange for a bag of candies.” He shows you a small bag tied loosely with a red ribbon.

“Alright, little man, you should go to your mother now. Don't make her worry, yeah?” Brass says, patting the kid on his back. He just nods his head and resumes running in the direction he was going to earlier.

You watch as the kid disappears from your sight, turning your head to the envelope. It was a plain white envelope with a red stamp in the center to seal it shut. You rip it off, taking out the paper folded in it. The text is clearly printed out, judging from the neat writing that no hand could ever achieve.

To (Y/N),

Good to see you in a good condition. I'm sure you're wondering who gave you this letter and why did it have to be delivered by some dirty snot-nosed kid. You'll know why later, keep on reading.

I have been keeping an eye on you ever since you joined the Marine. I must say, I didn't peg you for someone that would ever be one of the World Government's dogs. Was being a bounty hunter that boring? I wouldn't know, I was never one. I don't know if I'm disappointed or not with the route you're choosing.

I wagered that you would turn out exactly like your parents.

Nevertheless, it's your own choice. At the end of the day, the path you choose for yourself does not matter that much to me. Although, it might be a bit more of an inconvenience now that you are a Vice Admiral. It would've been better if you were just a Seaman Recruit.

Getting rid of you would've been much easier, and wouldn't cause that much of a ruckus in the Marines.

But I suppose that it wouldn't be an easy job either way, considering that you've trained yourself quite well. It's no surprise that you got a 400 million Berries bounty on your head, you've made quite the name for yourself in the underworld.

That is all thanks to me, of course.

You should've lived a quiet life, (Y/N). That way, no one would notice if you're gone. No one would care. No one would mourn for you. Except for maybe, your little friend, Jay.

I should have gotten rid of you 28 years ago.

But you escaped… and for the longest time I wonder if you've finally kicked the bucket. But you're still alive, and I was overwhelmed by a feeling of rage. I'll get rid of you properly this time, I'll make sure your name won't exist forever. I'll make sure you will be forgotten by eternity, with no one to say your name or mourn you.

All this is just an empty threat, you must be thinking. All bark, no bite.

Don't be mistaken now, (Y/N). I'm much more capable than you think I am. Don't take this as a grain of salt.

By the time you've reached this part of the letter, it must have been 5 minutes. That kid earlier must have wandered farther away from you. Given the many buildings on this island, navigating it would be difficult, I'm sure.

Here's the thing, (Y/N). I gave that kid a small bag and told him there are candies inside. Kids love sweets, don't they? But there are no candies inside…

“Fuck, fuck!” you throw the letter to the ground. “Brass, Cafune, search for that kid earlier NOW. Shinji, Atticus, ignore that guy and search for a kid holding a small bag with a ribbon. Do it now!”

You ran in the direction he went earlier, searching through every corner but the kid was nowhere to be seen. The crowd isn't helping either, it makes you slower and harder to move. They only look at you with a rather puzzled and annoyed expression, inching a bit farther to make way for you. You don't want to push them, but the situation is dire.

Your subordinates run around turning to every corner but no glimpse of that boy. He couldn't have wandered that far away, but none of you have ever been on this quite populated island. Your task is to only observe Vehemoth and not capture him, which is why you are only a team of five people. If things come to shove and you have to fight, you have already chosen the most capable ones.

“Move! Get out of my—”

Before you could yell more, you see the kid earlier standing away from the crowd while holding the bag. He slowly pulls the red ribbon, loosening the bag and letting the fabric fall to the ground. He looks inside, an unamused expression on his face. He pulls out a small device with wires surrounding it and a timer with a beeping noise.

You can barely move. Your appearance doesn't help either, you are dressed like a pirate. It is apparent that they wouldn't just listen to your demands.

As you push through the crowd of people, you desperately reach your hand to the boy but to no avail, you are still too far away from him. So close, yet so far.

“KID, THROW THAT AWAY! THAT'S A—”

And it explodes on his face, burning every inch of his body but especially his face. The crowd falls, shocked by the sudden explosion. You fall with them, your body crushed by the weight of too many people on you. Using all your strength, you push yourself off the ground and make your way through the fallen crowd. Sweats are trickling down your forehead and your throat is dry despite just having a drink earlier. The bubbling in your stomach urges you to throw up everything you've eaten that day.

…I gave him a small dynamite.

Small and compact but it could still create a huge explosion. It might not be fatal for an adult, but it definitely is for a little kid like him. An explosion like that would've definitely killed him.

You walk to the boy laying on the ground, limping as the weight of the crowd earlier hurt your legs. As you walk closer, you can see that his body is not moving at all - no sign of life. And his face. Oh, his face. The skin is not even there anymore, you can see his little skull. His eyeballs melt into its sockets. His clothes burned away and his body is full of burn marks. His exposed flesh is charred, red and black all the way.

I believe that you take me seriously now.

It feels nostalgic doesn't it? This is exactly like what happened years ago in Mono Rock Island. Feeling helpless as the people around you succumb to their injuries, when you are the sole reason why it happened in the first place. You try your hardest to help them but the damage has already been done. And in the end, it's their blood on your hands.

Who will comfort you when the souls of the innocent haunt you in your dreams, cursing you for taking their life? Who will be there to mourn you when your name is erased from history and remembered as the monster you are?

Who will hold you when your hands are stained with blood of many but none of yours?

“No,” you whisper, holding the boy's burned hand and ignoring the fact that your hands are starting to hurt and burn from the contact. His blood stains your hands. “Not again.” you hang your head low.

You couldn't save him. You never had the chance to, (Y/N). He was bound to die anyway. That boy lived as freely as he could not knowing that his body was bearing an illness of no cure.

You are a cursed child. You will bear the sins of your parents. Live on as a murderer. Live on until you finally get exiled and executed. Your fate has been decided the moment you left your mother's womb. 

But until then, I will do everything in my power to make your life a living hell. Beware of me everywhere you go, think of me before you slumber, and engrave me into your mind and don't forget me even for a second.

You will never know peace for as long as you live, this I promise you.

Cafune crouches next to you, holding your shoulder gently. “(Y/N)-san…”

You clench your jaw. Turning your head away to avoid looking at the boy's corpse any longer. You grab a handful of your hair, pulling it to the point your scalp hurts. Shinji takes a cloth and covers the boy's body. Atticus and your other subordinates go around to get the civilians to a safer place. You could hear a distant scream from a woman. You didn't have to look but you knew all too well that woman was the boy's mother. As you unwillingly listen to the mother's wails, you could only sit on the ground and curse yourself for being so slow.

You stand up, leaving your subordinates to deal with the commotion while you go and search for the letter you've thrown on the ground earlier. You can't let anyone see or read it. Although Brass and Cafune bear witness to the boy giving you the letter earlier and seeing you freak out after reading the content, you will lie about it being lost amidst the chaos.

Reaching the destination you were at earlier, you could immediately see the letter on the ground. It is no longer white and clean like it used to be, now having a brown-ish shade to it and marks of shoe soles all over. It's even more crumpled than when you receive it earlier.

You bend down and pick it up, flicking it to get rid of the dirt. Making sure that no one sees, you quickly shove it down your pockets.

“Don't you think you've ruined my life enough,” you ask without turning around. You know all too well he is standing behind you. He's obviously taunting you but you are too angry to question him. Killing an innocent child just to get a rise out of you, you just wanted to rip out his heart right here and then.

Expect more from me.

Seer Vehemoth

“Cain?”

His lips creep into a smirk.

Notes:

1. Ooh the lore is starting to come in.

2. Gee, that poor kid. I don't know what was I on writing that.

Chapter 9: VIII ; AND ALL THE THINGS I DON'T TALK ABOUT

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from A Pearl by Mitski.

You stare down at your desk.

That was all you could do as you let your thoughts run amok in your head. Your heart is in your throat and you couldn't choke it down even when you tried with all your might. Your heart aches once again as you think about the little boy earlier. He didn't even know what was coming, and neither did you.

You rest your elbows on the desk and cup your face in your hands. Your hands, they would not stop trembling ever since the incident. Your breathing is ragged and your legs feel as if they are about to collapse even when you are already sitting in your chair.

The world is so unfair.

After you returned to HQ, the first thing you had to do was report to the Fleet Admiral. And damn it all, you were dreading it. After what happened, you didn't feel like talking to anyone at all. But at the end of the day, you are a Vice Admiral and it is your responsibility to report to him about your missions.

“Seer Vehemoth blew up a child, you say?”

You bite your lower lip. The image of that boy's severed and burned body pops into your mind again. Your hands still remember the way you hold his lifeless hand and how the heat stings your palms. The stench of ash and blood burns your nose and once again, you feel like puking. It was all too familiar and you had to relive it again. Nothing ever went your way.

“Yes, with a small dynamite that I assume he got it from his connections with the underworld. It wouldn't be fatal for an adult but it can definitely kill a child.”

His eyebrows furrow and wrinkles form at his nasion. “And how are you sure that he was the culprit?”

Your eye twitches. Your eyes look down at your pocket, the letter you had shoved in your pocket earlier sits there comfortably. You don't plan on showing it to him.

Showing him your most deadpanned look, you relax your hands behind your back. “He told the child to send me a letter he wrote for me. He confessed to his crime in it, but the letter got burned by the explosion.”

He reads your expression. Your face didn't have any emotions on it but your eyes tell a different story. Even when you don't say it, your sorrowful eyes said it all. And it was his only first time realizing how sad your eyes were.

Your whole life is a lie. Chained by guilt and regret, all you could do was lie so that you would not be abandoned again. Even if it is all under a false pretense, because all you wanted was a sense of belonging.

But he still lived far longer than you. Even when you have become an expert at lying, experts are still capable of making mistakes - like the way you subtly chew on the insides of your mouth or the way your eyebrows are ever so slightly furrowed.

And you know that. You know that he knows you are lying. Lying would have been a dumb move to someone like him, but you tried nonetheless.

“...Go treat your hands at the infirmary. I can see the burn marks.”

You considered it the moment you stepped out of his office, but decided not to when you see a glimpse of the infirmary. You know that Jay would ask you all sorts of questions and you just want some time alone right now. Talking is exhausting. Thinking is exhausting.

Though, your thoughts will not leave your mind unattended.

You don't remember exactly when you escaped that island, but it was a long time ago. So long that your brain practically erased any memories of it in order to protect the little bit of sanity you have left. Alas, peace could only last for long until it is once again disturbed. Reality is something you have to face again.

The letter Cain had written to you sits on your desk. You look at the dirty crumpled piece of paper and notice that it is slowly inching towards South. You slam your fist on it to stop it from falling off the desk.

There must have been a reason why Cain used a Vivre Card to write on. Is he hinting that you should follow where the Vivre Card leads?

You scrunch your nose in frustration. You had enough of his stupid games, you are not going to entertain him any longer. If he wanted to kill you so badly, then he can head over to the HQ and find you himself. Whatever sin you committed to him, you don't know why it's gotten this bad. He wasn't always like this; in fact, he was so much better than this. The man you once knew is no longer here, corrupted beyond reason.

You thought of him as a father figure, and he thought of you as a daughter too. You don't know what went wrong. The mere mention of your parents caused him to lose himself to be the man he is today, and you feel guilty for that. Had you not mentioned their names, this would not have happened at all. You could have lived a better life than this.

The Vivre Card moves again, tempting you to go to where it leads to. And it's working, damn it, it works.

You know that you should not leave the HQ without telling him, but the guilt is killing you alive. You have to go and you have to ask. Part of the reason why that kid died was because you were too slow to catch him.

You stand up, pulling your coat over your shoulders. You shove the Vivre Card in your pocket. You're not a good navigator by any means, but that card will help you find him.

 

---

 

You take a deep breath and walk further into the breakwater. A man clad in a suit was already standing there by the shore watching the sea wave. His hand rests in front of his body, holding a fedora. His medium length hair swayed with the wind, barely showing his face.

“You came,” he spoke in a low, hoarse voice. A voice that sounded tired of the world. You recognize the voice. Although you had only heard it a day ago, it felt like forever. Hearing his voice raises your guilt once again, you bite the inside of your cheek.

He keeps his back to you, leaving you to stare at his tall figure. “Cain. Should you be here alone?” you ask.

He lets out a dry laugh, sounding almost as if he is mocking you. You twitch at the assumption.

“Don't be funny. I don't have my wife nor my son anymore to accompany me here.”

You grit your teeth. “That's not what I meant. Do you think it's wise to wait for me here alone knowing I could attack you at any moment?” you ask once again, not intending to entertain him.

He turns over his shoulder, his piercing red eyes glare into yours. A shiver runs down your spine. “I wouldn't try it, (Y/N). You are still a little girl to me.” His voice is low and fierce, sounding almost like an order to you. Your eyebrows furrow in frustration. Those same eyes were the ones that glared into you that day. It felt like you were taken back in time, a shivering little girl crying in fear and confusion as she watched the flames dance all around her.

You don't dare to pull out the tanto hidden behind your back, tucked into your waistband. Even with his back turned to you, you are absolutely sure that he knows you're hiding it there.

He takes a glance at your hands, your palms red and a bit of soot smothered on them. “You don't seriously expect to defeat me with those hands, do you? Get them treated,” he said. You could've sworn there was a bit of a parental tone in his voice.

Another person telling you what to do with your hands, can't you decide for yourself now or what? This is Cain telling you that, but you are certain that you will get it treated only because the Fleet Admiral told you to earlier. You don't want to disobey his order, but you have things to do and these hands can wait for its treatment.

You let out a deep sigh. “Cut to the chase, Cain. What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?”

He keeps quiet for a moment, almost like he's thinking of an answer.

“Because—” he finally turns, letting you see his face. He almost looked the same as the last time you remembered, although his age is showing with the wrinkles on his face and his hair that are fully coated in grey. “Your parents, (Y/N). I couldn't forgive them, and I couldn't forgive you for being a child of theirs.”

You knew that. The reason he turned into this was because of your parents.

“You never told me why, Cain.” you clench your fists. “I am not them, so don't treat me like one. They just so happened to be my parents, I never asked for this.”

Cain's lips fall into a frown, “I know. I never asked for this to happen either but a part of me just hates you. Hates that you are a product of them, the ones who destroyed my family.”

At that moment you can see the Cain that you looked up to so much, the father figure that you always longed for. His genuineness hurts your soul.

You look to the rough ground, not able to look him in the eyes from the immense amount of guilt clouding your heart. You know he is a criminal but your heart still sympathizes with him despite his crimes.

But that boy didn't have to die.

“You told me you had a son,” you whisper.

“That I did.”

“So why did you do this? Did you not think about your son when you handed him that dynamite?”

Cain falls silent. The look on his face tells you that he expected you would ask him that question - he already prepared an answer. He reached into his pocket and tossed you something to which you immediately caught with your hand.

A piece of crumpled paper sits in your hand, its bright colours and bold texts showing that it's an infographic poster. A lot of text is printed on it but you only bothered to read the big ones on top.

 

HELLISH HYSTERIA

DEADLY VIRUS DISCOVERED: A CONTAGIOUS DISEASE WITH HIGH MORTALITY RATE

 

“The illness that boy had. Had he continued living, the island would soon be filled with dead bodies all over the street. By getting rid of one, all others will be safe.”

The face of the little boy crosses your mind again, his severed face left an imprint on your memory that you are sure will not go away anytime soon even when you want it to.

“And your idea of immobilizing this virus is by killing an innocent child?” you ask, not understanding his reasons.

Cain's eyes wander to the sea. “What would you have done in my place? I simply got rid of something that is a byproduct of mine.”

Your heart fastened its pace. “Your… what? What are you talking about?”

His wandering eyes return to yours. His eyes are different than before, it's a mix of contempt and hatred. The scars all over his face caused him to look even more intimidating than ever.

“Have you ever wondered what I do in the underworld?”

You gulp. You don't want to think about what goes on in the underworld, where criminals do as they please all for the sake of business. Human trafficking, weapon smuggling, prostitution rings, maybe even more than you could think of. The so-called underworld is where morals hold no value, where criminals thrive in all their glory.

Ignoring your silence, he continues, “My organization sells weapons that would otherwise be impossible to obtain. However, that alone won't suffice. I didn't care for the weapons, I set my eyes long ago on one thing. This organization is divided into two operations. One sells and smuggles weapons, the other…”

He clenches his jaw, already irritated at the thought of it. You noticed the subtle movement.

“A drug cartel. Selling and distributing a type of drug we call REIGN.”

You ponder at the information Cain relayed on you. REIGN, it sounded familiar but you're not sure where you heard it from or why it was even something your brain faintly remembers. Your heart throbs thinking about it.

You lick your dry lips, feeling uneasy at the familiarity of the word Reign. “What are you trying to say?” you ask out of impatience. It feels like this man is speaking in riddles of some sort, you're not having any of it. Your absence at the New Marineford must have been noticed by now, you're starting to regret not informing anyone of your sudden leave.

Cain noticed your growing impatience, though not caring one bit. “This organization, it's called HYSTERIA 101,” he says, this time staring intensely into your eyes. “It was founded by your parents, Hyste and Reign.”

You remember now.

Hyste is the name of your father and Reign, your mother. You didn't have the chance to make any lasting memories with them. They left you on Mono Rock island where everything and everyone was miserable. The only reason you could survive on your own at the age of 5 was because they sent you a generous amount of money every month.

When you thought about it, you had spent more time with Cain than your own parents. You never knew where they went, that they had to leave you alone on that island or why you existed in the first place if they were going to abandon you later.

Still, you were with them before they decided it would be better to have you away from them. There were still things you could remember that you kept at the back of your mind. Perhaps you have genuinely forgotten, or maybe it was your own mind trying to protect you.

Snapping back from your thoughts, you heave. The memories that you stored away had come to haunt you again. “I…” you stutter. “I don't understand why you're the ringleader, you said it yourself that you bear strong hatred towards my parents.”

“Those drugs were the one that killed my family. Had they not created it, I could still return to my family. A good-for-nothing junkie wouldn't have broken into my house and murdered them in an attempt of a burglary for money so he could buy more REIGNs.”

You could only respond in silence. You had asked him about his family when you crossed paths at Mono Rock but he insisted on keeping to himself.

As the truth comes to light, you falter. It all finally made sense; why your existence drove Cain to madness. In a way, you felt somewhat responsible for what happened to his family. They were your parents after all - you are just like them.

You bite your lower lip, shame and guilt taking over your heart. You feel the need to say something to him, maybe an offer of consolation or sympathy, but you know it won't matter to him.

He looks away, not wanting to meet your eyes anymore. “Eventually, I got to be the leader of the organization. The first thing I did was to change the ingredients of REIGN. I ordered the manufacturers to lace them with poison. A poison that would gradually become lethal to the heart when consumed repeatedly. I assume the poison in their body mutated in a way and left behind a contagious disease that could endanger innocent people.”

“So why don't you just put a strong poison to begin with? Or even stopped the manufacturing altogether?”

You watch as he tilts his head down with his hand holding a locket in his palm. The tiny ornamental case sits comfortably in his big scarred hand, quite a contrast that reminds you of a certain someone tending to a plant with gentleness and care.

“They don't deserve to die a quick death; none of them do.”

You felt like a little girl again. You couldn't stand seeing his back turned to you, the man you looked up to so much. You reach out your hand to the figure in front of you.

“Cain, I'm—”

A shot rang past your right ear, the bullet grazing your helix. You quickly cup your ear, feel blood gushing out and that damn ringing won't go away. Your observation haki is messed up and your heart doesn't help either.

You look back, searching for the cause of the shot. The breakwater is empty except for a distant shadow. You stare at the figure, baffled at how they manage to find you here.

The white coat swayed with the wind as they stepped closer. The golden epaulets shine a little too brightly reflecting off the sun hurt your eyes. As you adjust your vision to adapt to the shine, you see his face.

“Jay…?” you call out his name, unsure of the situation before you.

Jay keeps his arm extended, aiming the gun directly at Cain whom is standing behind you. He stands unamused, a cut appeared on his left cheek. He pulls his hand and stuffs away the locket he held onto earlier.

Shifting his attention to you, he gives you a look of concern and disappointment. “(Y/N), what are you doing here with him?” he asks. The tone of his voice suggested that he thinks you are committing insubordination or even becoming a traitor to the Marines by sneakily leaving to meet a criminal you were tasked to catch.

Your nose scrunches and your eyebrows furrow deep in frustration. “I can explain, so put down the gun.” you put down your hand cupping your ear earlier, the ringing is mostly gone now. “I'm just having a talk with him, nothing more,” you say as you turn your head to look at Cain.

But he wasn't there.

You stare dumbfounded at the sea in front of you. Where the hell did he go? And why was he gone so quickly?

Jay puts down his gun, aiming it to the ground instead. “Tch, I look away for a second and he disappeared,” he complains under his breath.

You close the distance between you and Jay, washing away the blood from your helix on your hand with your devil fruit power. “How did you even find me here?” you ask the disturbed Jay.

He sighs, “Your vivre card. You didn't go to the infirmary even though your hands are burned, I stopped by your office and you weren't there.”

Vivre card? You don't remember making one and giving it to him. Was your memory really that bad?

You avoid his gaze. “Oh. Right, sorry for…” you pause to find the right words. “going AWOL.”

He looks at your right ear, a stream of blood running along your helix to your earlobe. “I'm sorry, that must've hurt. Come with me, I'll get you healed up.” he beckons you to the Marine warship he sailed on to find you.

You follow right behind him, the deafening silence between both of you is making you uncomfortable. The sounds of the soles of the shoes slapping against the ground and the roaring sea fill the silence. You wonder what excuse you will tell him, you have to come up with a lie quickly or he'll get suspicious.

Approaching closer to the ship at the dock, you decided to be the one to break the silence. “He asked me to meet him here, he sent me a letter yesterday,” you quietly said.

“For what?”

You don't want to tell the truth, but you also don't want to lie either. Not to someone you trusted.

“I've known him for a long time. I guess you can call this a reunion, though it wasn't a tear-jerking one.”

Threading on thin ice, you have to make sure you tell just enough to not arouse his suspicion but also to satisfy his questions. Your relationship with Cain would be a big problem if word got out in the Marines.

“(Y/N).”

You look at him.

“I know you're not telling me the whole truth, you don't have to. I trust that you can deal with him as you see fit, and I don't doubt you one bit.”

You sink into the guilt building up inside of you. For once in your life, it would be nice to be at peace even for at least a while. To be honest and free of your own deceit, to not have to lie to anyone to protect your weak self.

To be vulnerable and to have someone to be there to catch you if you fall.

“I'm sorry, Jay-han.”

 

---

 

“She has not returned?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“...”

“Would you like me to contact her?”

“No need.”

“...”

“...”

“Sir, Vice Admiral Jay just reported back. He succeeded in finding her and is now en route here.”

“Have you done a background check on her?”

“Sorry?”

“Background check, an extensive one.”

“I… no, sir, we haven't. Her records are clean and there has been no severe criminal activities in the past. Her previous job was a bounty hunter.”

“...”

“...”

“Do a background check on her again. Find everything that you can, every minute details, even those that were never written. Report back to me when you're done, and I mean that immediately.”

“Y-yes sir! I'll have it done as quickly as possible!”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...a woman of mystery, aren't you, Vice Admiral.”

Notes:

1. This chapter was basically me just info-dumping the lore.

2. Once again showcasing how bad I am at coming up with names...

Chapter 10: IX ; IT'S A BEAUTIFUL NEW DAY

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra.

It was given that after returning from your little reunion with Cain, you will get scolded for leaving without notice. It was only natural, but you didn't care about authority and permission at the moment. Your head was occupied with the thought of Cain and Cain only.

As you sit in your office staring at the papers on your desk, you let out a melodic hum. It wasn't necessarily from anywhere, but you just needed something to break the awful silence that fills the air. Your hand writing your reports and more paperwork. Your eyelids start to droop from sleepiness and boredom. You couldn't stand hearing your own hum and the subtle noises of your pen scribbling on paper.

Glancing at the stack of papers next to you is your final straw. You slam the pen on your desk and rest your head on the desk with your arms as your pillow.

You swear you could go crazy if your brain reads any more words.

Paperwork are your least favourite part of the job. This sort of stuff should be an assistant's job but you don't have one, not even your own branch so you can't exactly make someone do the writing. Perhaps the Fleet Admiral still hasn't deemed you worthy of leading a branch. Well, there is a truth to it… after seeing your recklessness, you wouldn't trust yourself either.

But still, paperwork? You would much rather watch paint dry. Your fingers are starting to hurt from writing so much, it might fall off any moment now.

Grabbing your coat sitting on the back of your chair, you make your way to exit your office. Instead of sitting around doing pointless things (paperwork), surely training would have been better.

You shudder when you remember the cold eyes of Cain staring into yours yesterday. Even when you have trained so hard to get to where you are today, he still had a grip on you. That will only hold you back, so you make it your new ambition to get over your fear of Cain.

 

---

 

You stood at the edge of the base's training grounds, surveying the area. It is almost midnight, and you were the only one there. You had always preferred to train alone, away from the distractions of other people.

The sandy ground is full of shoe marks and dried blood. The training dummies made out of wood stand in the middle of the area, some of them are more worn out and damaged than others.

The moon looms large in the sky, casting a brilliant, otherworldly light upon the earth below. The rough training grounds looked lonely, only accompanied by the wooden dummies and you. You step closer to the center, letting the moonlight hit your face. The coolness of the night air and the dim light coming from the barracks felt calming. You breathe in the fresh air.

As peaceful as it was, you didn't come here to appreciate the serenity of the training grounds at night. In fact, this is an escape from the absurd amount of paperwork in your office.

“I'm thinking of those damn paperwork again,” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head.

You take a deep breath and begin your warm-up routine. You jog around the perimeter of the training grounds, feeling the gravel crunching beneath your boots. As you run, you take in the sights and sounds of the base - the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the sounds of quiet chatterings from people still awake at this hour, and the sight of the battleships anchored in the harbor.

Once you feel sufficiently warmed up, you immediately run to the nearest dummy. As you concentrate, you summon a small stream of water from your hands and send it spiraling through the air, hitting the dummy and knocking it to the ground. You take out your tanto and stab its head.

You lean closer to the dummy, “That's a hit,” you say to it in a mocking way, not expecting a reply back.

Pulling your tanto out from its cracked head, you stand up to face the other dummies. You flip the tanto and hold it backwards, pulling it closer to your face while your body moves into a fighting stance. Pretending the dummies are your foes, you swiftly move and strike the dummies while also avoiding their attacks. Feeling like you would be in an awkward position, you quickly sidestep and give the dummy a left hook to the face.

You step back when the last dummy falls. Wiping off the beads of sweat rolling down your temple, you put your tanto away to fix the dummies position. You lift one of them and mount it back on the ground, hitting the top of its head to push it deeper and make it sturdier. You continue doing that to the rest of the dummies.

After practicing close-combat, you thought it was time for a ranged combat. You walk back to the edge of the training grounds, putting a considerably big amount of distance between you and the dummies.

You take a deep breath, feeling the water within you stir. You lift your hands, summoning a torrent that raced towards you opponents in a powerful wave. With a flick of your wrist, you sent the water swirling around the dummies, trapping them in a watery prison. You hold tight, maintaining your focus until you were certain they would be defeated if they were alive. As the water falls away, you lower your hands, feeling the rush of power still coursing through your veins.

However, you feel anything but satisfied. These are training dummies, made out of wood. They are destined to lose their battles, and you don't feel pride in your fake victory against defenseless enemies.

“Ooh, those are some amazing moves…”

Feeling a presence behind you, you quickly turn around only to be met with a chest clothed in a yellow striped suit and green collared shirt underneath it. You slowly lift your head up to see his face.

“Kizaru-han, since when were you there?” you ask, nervous and embarrassed at the thought of an admiral watching you fight the dummies as if they were real.

His face twists into a thinking expression, his lips stretch into a lazy smile. “Since you stabbed that poor dummy's face~?” he answers, ending it with a questioning tone.

You sigh, turning away to hide your embarrassed face. “Oh. Sorry, if I had known you were watching, I would've practiced more… appropriately.”

“Hmm… that sorta stuff doesn't matter in a battle. It's about the unyielding will to survive, is it not?”

You keep quiet. He is right, there is no time and purpose to look pretty in a fight.

You clear your throat, “Kizaru-han.” you say, turning to look at him once again.

“Hmm?” he simply responds.

Practicing on training dummies might be useful, but surely not more than a real person. Especially if they are much stronger than you. You need to feel threatened so you can bring out more of your power.

“Please do me a favour and spar with me.” you ask, quickly bowing your head to show respect.

He raises his eyebrows, not expecting the sudden request. “Ooh~ you're brave, think you can handle me?” he asks, tilting his head in amusement.

You feel intimidated by his question, but you can't back down now after requesting a spar. After all, you want to get stronger yourself and there is no better way to fight someone with more experience than you do. Even if you get defeated, this could be your chance to figure out your weakness and improve yourself.

You raise your head, keeping eye contact with him. “I have to get stronger and recognize my weaknesses. I will accept any outcome of the spar.”

“That certainly is admirable~ Now, get into position and come at me with everything you have.”

Both of you walk into the center of the training grounds. The training dummies now lay on the side, away from your area. You take out your tanto, pulling yourself into a fighting stance. Kizaru stands calmly, his hands both in his pants pockets. You sweat, seeing that he doesn't take this spar very seriously like you do and that shows the massive gap between you and him.

Pulling out his hand, he straightens his arm to your direction, his index and middle finger pushed together and curls two times. “Ready when you are, Vice Admiral.” he speaks, giving you a daring smirk.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you push your legs and lunge at him. You swing your tanto close to his face but he easily swerves to the side. Looking at the opportunity, you immediately flip the tanto in your hand and aim to the side. He morphs into sparks of light, disappearing into nothingness as you stab the air.

You jump back, looking around to search for a glimpse of him. The hardest thing about fighting him would be his Light-Light powers, letting him move at light speed. You frantically run your eyes around, afraid he would sneak an attack from behind.

Just as you're about to check your back, a bright light gathered in the sky in front of you. His body slowly returns to normal, hovering high over the ground. He crosses his arms, “Yasakani no Magatama…” he calls his move, firing a torrent of deadly light particles towards you.

You quickly push a small wave with your hands, sending yourself away from him although falling to the ground and hurting your back on the rough ground. Using your arms to lift yourself, you stand again.

The situation is starting to hurt your head. An admiral is sparring with you and you are still struggling even when he's holding back, the cuts on your hands grazed from the gravel, and the ever so increasing chattering from the barracks with seamen watching both of you. Your body is already starting to get tired from your previous training with the dummies.

You only managed to avoid that attack just enough that it won't gravely injure you. As you feel warm blood trickling down your face and other parts from your body, your stomach drops when you realize if you moved one second slower, it would've been curtains for you.

“What's wrong, Vice Admiral? Are you scared?” The tone of his voice leaves you unsure if he was asking out of genuine concern or mocking you. The expression of his face does not give you a hint either, he is entirely unreadable.

You wash away the blood with your water, not wanting dried blood on your skin. “Please don't worry about me, Kizaru-han. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Even if I accidentally kill you?”

You stay quiet for a while. “Well, I would prefer to leave this training ground alive,” you answer truthfully.

After having a small intermission chat, you continue with your spar. This time, the seamen at the barracks opened the window on their rooms, visibly more invested than they were before. You don't blame them, a Vice Admiral sparring with an Admiral is a rare sight after all. Not many would be this bold as you.

Among the many pairs of eyes on you, there is one you have not noticed. His thoughts orbit you, as his eyes trace your every move. He exhales a puff of smoke, a silent speech from the cigar.

Your gut clenches in fear, but with each breath, it transforms into a churning sea of adrenaline and excitement, a tempest of emotion that threatens to break free from the confines of your body. You relish at the sudden change, not even noticing your muscles getting sore from all the extreme movements.

You throw your tanto at him, racing it as you run towards him too. Just as it reaches an inch away from his face, he simply flicks it away with one hand. Taking this opportunity where he focuses on the tanto for one split second, you immediately duck to the floor and grab a handful of sand and dirt. When the tanto flings away and his attention reverts back to you, you throw the ground in your hand to his face, specifically aiming at his eyes.

But you forgot one critical thing in order for it to succeed, and that is the fact that he wears sunglasses. The small pile of earth hits his glasses, shielding his eyes from them. “That was good~” he comments before spinning around and hitting your abdomen with a kick.

You clutch the struck spot, slowly backing away from Kizaru. Too caught up with your pain, you accidentally step on a small rock - tipping you off-balanced. As you brace to hit the ground for the countless times today, you feel an unfamiliar large hand on your waist, pulling you closer and stopping you from falling. You widen your eyes, surprised that Kizaru caught you and even more surprised when you realize no one has ever touched your waist in that way. Fluster creeps up on you, a thief of composure that leaves behind a rosy flush on your cheeks.

Gasps start to fill the silence which quickly transitions to chattering. With a gentle urgency, you disentangle his hand from your waist and stand on your own two feet. This predicament of yours overpowers the feeling of pain on your body, making you forget he just did a spinning kick on you just a minute ago.

Shit. Everyone saw that, how much more embarrassing can this be?

You bowed your head, not out of reverence, but to veil the flutter in your chest. “It's my defeat. Thank you for your time,” you thank him, trying to get the previous scene to leave your troubled mind.

“It's my pleasure. Though I must say, no one has ever dared to pull such dirty stunts on me…”

You raise your head, looking off to the side in shame. You were disappointed at yourself for pulling a dirty move in a fight. In fact, you look down on it yourself. That is an action often pulled by unruly pirates, but the World Government and the Marines are not exempt from this. “I'm terribly sorry for that. My mind was consumed by survival, and any sense of honour in battle was forgotten.”

Kizaru rests his hands in his pants pockets, his expression is the same as always but it looks a little more thoughtful at the moment. “Some pirates possess no sense of honour. In that case, you should only focus on defeating them; even if it means resorting to dirty tricks.”

Perhaps he is right. In your time as a bounty hunter, you encountered way too many unjust people. You recall that one time you offered a pirate to use your tanto in a fight because you broke his weapon. You fought him only using your powers.

“I appreciate the advice,” you turn, grabbing a rake leaning on a wall. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have to fix the terrain for those that will train here tomorrow.”

He steps aside, letting you through. The chattering from the barracks died down, the light from the rooms are now turned off, indicating they are ready to head off to slumber. He walks back into the building, leaving you alone on the training grounds. You grab the rake and begin to painstakingly smooth out the rough, uneven terrain, making it more presentable for the upcoming training session. The toppled training dummies are now neatly impaled to the ground, you give it a few hits from the top of its head to keep it in place.

 

---

 

Borsalino walks closer to the building, a silhouette of a man stares at you alone. He leans to the doorframe, tendrils of smoke curling up around him. The glowing ember of his cigar casts a warm and flickering light upon his face.

“She has such a small waist, doesn't she, Sakazuki?” A sly quirk of his lips, he inquires, teasingly.

Sakazuki clenches his jaw, holding himself back from hurdling nasty words at the man in front of him. Perhaps it was out of annoyance, but mayhaps it was something more. He ignores the question.

“Wipe that smirk off your face. If you have time to fool around then you're better off gettin' some work done, Borsalino.” he scowls, his nose scrunched and his eyebrows tight. The poor cigar in his mouth is being used as something for him to bite really hard on.

Borsalino puts up hands in a surrendering motion. “Cool it with the hostility, Fleet Admiral… or is that jealousy I'm sensing?”

His eyes widen, taken back by the audacity to ask that question to none other than him.

“Watch your tongue, you fool! You should know better than everyone else to never utter such ridiculous nonsense,” he warns, his burning gaze stays on the other.

Borsalino huffs in amusement, not expecting the reaction he's getting. He had initially thought the hot-tempered man would simply brush off that teasing question, but there might be more to this. “Yes, yes, I hear you. Many apologies~”

They both know he didn't mean it.

After the tension dies down, Sakazuki relaxes. His eyes still linger on the Vice Admiral that is currently working hard to restore the grounds to as it were before. It feels like no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pry his gaze off you.

“(Y/N) fights very well, you saw her attempting a trick on me. If she was fighting a normal person, she would've won the fight fairly quickly.”

Sakazuki sighs, not wanting to let out a praise. “That's good, I expect no less from a Vice Admiral. There is no place for weak-willed marines,” he says, massaging his temples. “With the whole world in turmoil over recent events, the last thing we need are incompetent soldiers.”

The two stand in silence for a while, only observing you at the training grounds.

“Her parents,” he pauses, watching you fall to the ground as a result of clumsily stepping on the tine, causing the handle to fly up and hit you on the head. You fall to the ground, hunched over as you grip your head. Strings of profanity escape your mouth. “...were pirates. What the hell,” he quietly continues, not believing his eyes.

Borsalino lets out a chuckle at the comedic sight. “Does that change what you think of her?” he asks, genuinely this time, with no teasing whatsoever.

Sakazuki keeps quiet. He pushes himself away from the doorframe and heads to a different direction.

“I don't know,” he answered in a lower tone than usual. Borsalino noticed it.

Notes:

1. I wish that was me so bad.

Chapter 11: X ; AND THE REASON IS YOU

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from The Reason by Hoobastank.

The garden is usually quiet, not having more than ten people at a time. There are many reasons for this, but the most prevalent one is that not many people have an interest in plants. You don't either, or at least, you don't take that big of an interest to them like certain people do but this is a beautiful place after all.

It has probably been a few months since you last stepped in here, you lost track of time. You were so busy with missions that this garden, the very place that you claimed to be your favourite, slipped your mind.

You slowly walk over to the place you planted your own rose at. You're dreading at the sight of seeing it withered, or perhaps not even there anymore. You completely forgot about watering it, much less caring for it as you should.

As you approach your desired destination, you see someone standing in front of it. The standard Marine coat hangs over their shoulder, the bottom of it drooping dangerously close to the ground. You step closer, wanting to see the person's face.

“Vice Admiral.”

You jolt in place. You haven't closed the distance yet and he already sensed your presence. He turns arounds, revealing his identity.

Your heart skips a beat. “Oh, it's you, Fleet Admiral-han…” you quietly say.

The garden is filled with silence, it doesn't have that many returning visitors. Not a lot of people are interested in plants. But right now, there are two of them.

His usual scowl is missing from his face. The tense posture is now replaced with a relaxed stance, his left hand holds a grey metal watering can. The rose you presumed is dead sits nicely in the clay pot you planted it in. The name you had written on there is faded, although still readable.

You think for a second before finally putting the pieces together. “You were…?” you trail off, looking at him for confirmation.

“Watering it for you, yes,” he answers.

The weight of disappointment rests heavy on your heart, the advice he had given you was forgotten long ago.

“I'm sorry, I admit I forgot about the rose. I… I didn't mean to neglect it,” you apologize sincerely.

With a sigh of contentment, he sets aside the watering can. "No need for an apology. The rose is thriving, and that is enough,” he assures.

And silence falls. He walked away to tend to his bonsai trees and you went to sit on the nearest bench, holding the clay pot in your hands. The rose bloomed beautifully into a soft pink colour, similar to the one on his suit. You gently grip the pot, guilt builds up inside of you.

If I can't even take care of a single plant, much less saving a person.

Once more, the image of the child's face appears, haunting memory that fills you with utmost guilt. His innocent eyes shine with dreams and hope. And it feels like you have taken that away from him. In the corner of your eyes, you can still see his dried blood all over your hands.

“I can never do things right,” you whisper to yourself, holding tightly to the pot of rose.

“Don't beat yourself up over it, Vice Admiral.”

As you glance to the side, you notice he had taken a seat next to you. He puts a distance between, as if granting your solitude, and to you, a space to remain. His right leg crosses over the other.

You blush out of embarrassment, not expecting he would hear you wallow in self-pity. “Sorry about that…” you look away.

Once again, a shared silence envelops you both. Only the rustlings of the leaves against the wind can be heard. You don't know what to do nor say.

“Who did you sneak off to meet the other day?” he asks, interrupting the silence.

Your body tenses at the question. Your head is telling you to lie but your guts tell you that it would not work. You had lied enough as it is, adding more lies would probably not hurt… wouldn't it?

Not wanting to waste his time, you shortly answer. “Someone.” You're aware it is an ambiguous answer but it is the truth, although not completely. You're not sure if he is satisfied with your half-assed answer but it doesn't seem like it.

He looks ahead, not making eye contact like he usually does. That might be a good thing, because you really don't want your eyes to meet his. He detected your lie last time and you don't want that to happen again. At least, not right now. You can't afford to have your cover blown now when everything is fucked.

“A pirate?” he asks again.

Is Cain a pirate? Probably not. Not that it mattered anyway - he is a criminal nonetheless. A Marine officer meeting up with someone that is wanted for their crimes is still a weird and unusual thing. Or at least, that's what civilians would think. You're aware that a lot of these Marines are secretly working together or allied themselves with pirates and criminals. It's nothing new, their hands are not clean at all. They never were, and so are yours.

“Not that I know of. Just… a regular criminal, I suppose,” you answer truthfully.

You hear a sigh coming from him. “Pirates, criminals, terrorists, all the same. They're all scumbags and they don't have a place in this world.” He finally turns his head to look at you. “And it is our job as Marines to eradicate all evil. To give justice to those that deserve it.”

Ah, a lecture. Not that you don't deserve it.

You carefully put the pot down on the ground before standing in front of him. His eyes fall on you, moving from up to down and up again. His head tilts in curiosity.

You clench your fists, holding yourself back from shaking too much. “Fleet Admiral-han, I swear to you that I don't intent on betraying you or the Marines. I've earned your trust to be a Vice Admiral and I do treasure it. I'm meeting this person with no ounce of malicious intent, this is all purely personal.”

He stays quiet, not breaking eye contact. His intense gaze is making you intimidated but you know you have to do this or else he would not trust you anymore.

“Personal. I get it. Can I at least get a name?”

No secrecy this time, you thought to yourself. “Seer Vehemoth. His real name is Cain,” you answer.

“Even the research department didn't find out his real name yet. What's your relationship with him?”

“It's complicated. I knew him since I was a child and truthfully, I saw him as a father figure. He bears a personal grudge towards me and I aim to solve it soon.”

You only realize at this point that you're telling him everything when Jay didn't even know anything. It would make sense considering the circumstances, this type of stuff should be reported to the Fleet Admiral but even your closest friend is left out. Was this really the right choice, after all? For now, you'll only share your secret with Sakazuki. You can tell Jay anytime later.

He reached out to a table next to the bench, grabbing a stack of papers in his hand. He skims through it for a while before handing it to you. You hesitantly take the papers, already overthinking about what it could possibly be about. A notice of termination?

He watches as you read. “I'm proposing that you be a member of SWORD. This means you will be resigned from your commission and no longer recognized on paper,” he explains.

You widen your eyes, “Is that a fancy way of saying I'm fired?” you ask, already panicking.

“No, just listen to me. Being a member of SWORD allows you to ignore certain command protocols, such as fighting a powerhouse like an emperor without authorization. In other words, you get to do whatever the hell you want. But in return, I can always disavow your actions and cut you loose at any point. In other words, the Marine can discharge you without responsibilities or repercussions.”

You read the paper again. It contains information about the organization of SWORD and also its members, you could only recognize two of them which are Koby and X Drake.

You look at him once again. “But why offer me a place in SWORD in the first place? Were you planning on firing me after all?”

He puts out his hand, demanding the papers back to which you immediately return it to him. “It's for your own benefit. You can leave the HQ anytime you want and solve this whole ordeal of yours with Cain.”

Your eyes light up at his words. “Then I don't see any reason why I should refuse. I just have to worry about being terminated.”

“You don't have to worry about that.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Sorry? What do you mean?” you ask.

He puts the papers back on the table. “I'm making an exception for you alone. You're capable of fighting although you are a bit reckless at times, it would be a great shame to lose a valuable asset such as you. Just don't reveal this to anyone, not even your friend Jay. This could put you in jeopardy if you don't play it right.”

Making an exception for only you? What a strange man he is. You're not sure if this could be called a "special treatment" but you would rather call it just being lucky. Calling it a special treatment would only inflate your ego and perhaps something else inside you.

And the garden is unusually hot. Has it always been this hot or is it just because of his presence here? or is it just… you?

“That's… thank you. I won't waste this opportunity you've given to me, I owe you a lot.”

He reached down on the ground, your eyes following his movements. As he rises back up, he hands you a familiar Den Den Mushi with a little scar on its face.

“You only owe me your utmost dedication and loyalty to me.” he lets the creature slither on his hand that is way bigger than it is. You carefully pick it up from his hand. “What do you call it, Zoom?” he asked.

You stutter as you let the Den Den Mushi rest on your hands. “Oh, uh, yes. I named it Zoom.” you watch as Zoom lets out a soft purr which sends vibrations to your palms.

“If you like it so much, then I can have it assigned to you. It's a capable snail, that one.” he comments.

You raise your eyebrow at his comment. “You've worked with Zoom before?” you ask.

Perhaps your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you could have sworn you saw the corner of his lips curved upwards slightly. But when you blinked your eyes, it was back to its natural position again - a scowl.

“Yes, it used to be assigned to me back when I was an Admiral.”

Your jaw involuntarily drops. He nonchalantly fixes his cap before standing up and leaving the garden. You could only watch him leave with your mouth agape trying to process the words he just uttered moments before. This might have been a dream, but the coldness of the slithery snail on your hands says otherwise. It is very much… real.

Your hands start to shake, rattling the poor creature on your palms. You force yourself to stop when you realize it.

“Zoom, tell me you saw that too!” you beg, leaning close to its face. Your heart still flutters thinking about it.

But by the looks of its eyes, you could tell Zoom only cares about being fed. You huff in amusement before carrying it with you to the feeding station.

 

---

 

“What was that about, eh, Sakazuki?”

Sakazuki turns his head to the left, gritting at the sight of the former Fleet Admiral, Sengoku. Although he is a respectable man, he is also annoying at times.

“Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdropping a private conversation?” he asks in a harsh tone.

Sengoku gives him a shit-eating grin. Teasing? Mocking? It wasn't clear, but it was getting on Sakazuki's nerves for sure. “A special treatment for a woman? I think it's valid to make assumptions,” he says, grabbing a piece of rice cracker and munching down on it.

He lits up his cigar in a frustrated manner, quickly taking a puff before responding. “There is no special treatment, old geezer. I'm simply giving her the chance to solve her predicament appropriately as I see fit.”

Sengoku huffs at the response. “What a terrible excuse you're giving me! You're damn lucky that I'm the one standing here, Garp would've made this a big deal - which it really is.”

Sakazuki shakes his head at the other man. “Enough of that. It seems your retirement really took a big toll on your head,” he says as he massages his throbbing temple. He is starting to give him a killer headache.

The older shrugs his shoulders at the subtle insult. “Well, regardless of what you got going with her, I'm just saying to be careful. If word got out, you will be the one that has to answer them.”

He stays quiet at the advice.

“She's a member of SWORD now, I can always disavow her actions when things come to shove.”

Sengoku reaches out his hand, offering a rice cracker to him. “That's true, but having ties with her will only birth opportunities for your enemies. You won't be the one in danger, she will.”

Somehow, the thought of you being hurt leaves him uneasy and angered. Was it because he hates weak Marines? It must be. Why else would he feel like this? If it was Borsalino, Issho, or Aramaki, he would've felt the same anyway. He had made it clear every time that he doesn't tolerate weakness in his soldiers, and you are not exempt from this ideal of his. Yes… obviously, that is the reason why he feels irritated from this hypothetical scenario.

Sakazuki pushes Sengoku's hand away, rejecting the offer for food. Not that it tasted good anyway, a snack like that wouldn't suffice his hunger.

“...I know how to do my job,” he speaks in a low tone. The uneasiness stirs inside him once again. He starts to walk past him, thinking a walk could clear his troubled mind.

Sengoku lets him walk away, watching him from the corner of his eyes. The future of the Marines lay on his hands, so much of a burden for a man to shoulder. That was the sacrifice he had to take in order to be the highest rank in the Navy. He takes a bite of another rice cracker, humming at the taste. “I sure hope you do, Sakazuki,” he mutters under his breath before walking the opposite direction.

Notes:

1. The reader is now officially a member of SWORD! That's fun.

Chapter 12: XI ; YOUR HEART INSIDE THAT'S GREY

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Good God by Korn.

After a week of having to stay at the HQ, you are finally allowed to leave for missions. Sitting in your office all day was suffocating to say the least. The only source of entertainment you had was Zoom and the garden (and also the occasional thoughts about the Fleet Admiral).

You stand on the deck, watching the island that the ship is slowly approaching. What was the name of the island again? You forgot, but you can always just ask your subordinates later. The name of the island is not the most important thing in this mission anyway, you are here to catch a pirate crew that has been wreaking havoc and disturbing the civilians' peace.

It is not a big island like the others you have been to, it is enough to maintain a small population. The dock is filled with a bunch of small boats, presumably for fishing or transportation to other islands. Compared to the warship you're on, they are very small. If you're not careful, you could accidentally bump into them and destroy their boats. And among the small boats, there sits a slightly larger ship with a jolly roger.

“Enjoying the view?”

Jay walks and stands by you, lighting a cigarette.The coat on his shoulders, caught in the wind's embrace, moves with a fluid grace, as if it were dancing a waltz with the playful breeze that surrounds him. He puts the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling the content.

You shield your eyes from the blazing sunshine with your hand. “Sure, it feels nice to see something other than grey concrete walls.” You glance at the messily stacked papers on a wooden desk at the side. “And paperwork. But I've complained enough about that, haven't I?”

Jay points to his ear. “Yeah, made my ears bleed from all that complaining.” he gives you a teasing smirk.

You groan at his joke. Pointing a finger, you aim it at his lit cigarette and shoot a ball of water, knocking it out of his mouth and into the ocean below. He quickly rushes to the railings, hunching over it. You can't help but chuckle at his startled reaction, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

“You've got problems, seriously! Inflation has been crazy these days, you wasted a perfectly good cig!” he shouts, slumping over the railings and sighing out loud in a joking manner.

“Don't be so down. I'll buy you another packet,” you say, waving some of your cash in the air.

Jay turns back and leans on the railings with his arms crossed. “And I'll choose the most expensive one they have.” He sticks his tongue out.

“Vice Admirals, we will moor soon!” one of your men shouts from below. You nod in acknowledgement and watch as they run around to prepare the anchors and ropes. Jay goes back to help them prepare and you stay at your position. The dock is fully in your sight now and the pirate ship mounted at the one of the pier is practically begging to be run over by your much bigger ship but you don't want to damage yours so you hold your thoughts.

You could see a bunch of curious figures watching your ship approach the island. A couple of children running around near the shore playing tag, some adults watching over them while reading magazines and chatting. From what you observed, the situation is so much more peaceful than what you were told. A pirate wreaking havoc on this seemingly peaceful island? Did they give you the wrong report?

But the presence of the pirate ship only confirms the reports. They might be in hiding.

The ship slowly halts at the dock, some men go down and tie the ropes to the docks so the ship would not move or drift away. They pull down the wooden stairs and you step down to the dock along with Jay following behind you. The fresh air hits your face and you sigh in contentment. This certainly smells like freedom, but also trouble that will occur soon.

An old man with greying hair approaches both of you, in his hand holding a guiding stick. His tired eyes squint to see your facial features. His mouth agape when he recognizes the famous white coat sitting on your shoulders. “My my, Marines? What are you here for?” he asks, his voice coarse and guttural.

You glance quickly at Jay before answering his question. “We've received reports of pirates sighting here, do you know where they are?”

His nose scrunches and his face contorts into that of uncomfort. He glances back and turns back to face you again. “There are no pirates, fellas. Musta been a mistake or some sort,” he says, occasionally looking back with a worried expression on his face.

Jay reaches out and puts his hand on the old man's shoulder. “Are they forcing you to hide them? Don't worry, we'll get rid of them for you.”

You turn your head at the pirate ship right next to your battleship. “That pirate ship there gives them away. If you can't tell us, then we'll search for them ourselves.”

The old man spreads out his arms, stopping you from advancing further into the island. You jolt in place, not expecting his dedication to stop you. You start to feel bad but you don't have time to be sentimental at this time. Some of the Seaman Recruits rushes over and holds the old man back, making way for you to move. The old man tries his hardest to escape their grip, but to no avail.

“Stop! This is all a mistake! We don't need any help, especially not from you World Government mutts!” he yells despite his old age. You glance back at him, watching him thrash around as your men hold him back from stopping you to step further. A feeling of uncertainty bubbles up inside you from his reaction.

World Government mutts. It is a fitting name, no denying that. The things the Marines would do just to pursue their sometimes demented idea of justice is just horrible. A lot of times, it just brings more destruction than tranquility.

Despite your growing uncertainty, you move deeper into the island. You are greeted with the village and some shops here and there as their financial source. There are people around but they look at you with anything but friendliness. It almost seemed… defensive?

Jay rubs his non-itchy head. “That's terrible… Do you think the pirates are threatening them with some sort of punishment if they told us where they're hiding?” he asks for your opinion, growing uneasy as they watch you strut down the streets.

It doesn't seem like it. These are not looks of fear, but rather looks of hostility. You notice that they are only looking at you with that unwelcome look in their eyes. “I hope that's actually the case,” you shortly answer. Why else would they look at you like that? You are here to help them, nothing else.

Not seeing a glimpse of pirates anywhere, you decided to approach one of the villagers.

“Have you seen any pirates here?” you ask, showing them a wanted poster of the pirate you are tasked to capture.

The middle-aged man stares you down before voicing his answer. “Not a damn clue, lady. Just go on yer merry way and leave this peaceful island.” he demands, pointing his finger at the direction you came from.

Your eye twitches at his rudeness. Is this just an act or is he really just an asshole? Either way, it greatly annoys you. You just want to berate him for even talking to you like that but you hold yourself back and simply leave him be to find another reasonable person to ask. What the hell is up with the villagers here? Some strange people they are.

Your eyes land on a child playing with a toy by herself. She hums a song to fill the silence in the air. You look at Jay, silently wanting him to ask her instead of you. After all, Jay has always been better with kids than you are. In addition, kids are more honest than adults so you might finally get the answer you have been searching for.

He kneels down to her level, looking down at her with a smile on his face. “Hey there, can we ask you some questions?” he asks.

The little girl stops humming and looks at him. She returns his smile. “Okay!” she agrees before putting her toys gently on the ground so as to not damage them.

Jay softly pats her head, “Thank you, little miss.” You give him the poster you were holding. He presents it to her, showing the pirate's face clearly. “Have you seen this man somewhere? Or maybe any of his friends?” he asks, pointing at the picture.

She thought for a while, cocking her head to the side to show that she is really thinking hard about it. Her eyes lighten up when an answer pops up into her little head. “Yeah! I've seen him go that way,” she points to the west with her finger. “Are you his friends?”

Jay hands you back the poster and stands up. “We're about to be,” you answer before he could open his mouth.

You stuff the poster back into your pocket, leaving the girl alone to entertain herself. You start walking to the west, finding that you are now off trails and about to enter the forest, away from the village. You take out your tanto and hold it firmly, ready to jump into action in case the pirates decide to ambush you. Jay trails behind you, cocking his flintlock to cover your blind area.

The ruffling sound of the bushes caught your attention. You stand in place, not wanting to go closer to not risk getting hurt at point blank. “Get out of there and show yourself,” you speak your demand out loud, holding your tanto in a defensive position. Jay points his well-worn flintlock at the thick bushes, scanning for potential targets.

A shadowy figure slowly emerges from the bushes, stepping out into your path. He grips a sharp cutlass tightly in his calloused hands, ready to make a move just as you do. All of you stand in place, not daring to initiate the first attack on one another.

That is the pirate you were tasked to capture. Despite the tension in the situation, he seems overly calm but more like in an insulting manner. Cocky bastard, you think to yourself. Two versus one, and both capable fighters at that. Might as well just surrender himself to get this over with faster. You don't want to spend another minute on this suspiciously hostile island.

The corner of his lip curved into a devious smirk. “Oh, I know who you are, Vice Admiral (Y/N). You're a four-star bounty according to the posters the Cross Guild issued.” he reaches out his hand, an offer for handshake? “Between you and I, you may have the power but I have numbers behind me. They're spread out around this forest and they will attack you when I give them the signal. Since I'm nice today, I'm offering you to surrender and let me present your head to the Cross Guild. I'll make it quick and painless for a lady like you.”

You grit your teeth as hard as you possibly can. The sheer audacity of this damn nobody astonishes you and you just want to drive your tanto into his brains before he does it to yours. “You've got some fucking nerve thinking mere numbers could defeat me. I'll make you an offer, keep spouting shit out of your mouth and I'll make your death as painful as I can make it be.”

That was just a taunt. You know it yourself that you do not have it in you to actually take someone's life.

Not again.

“Okay, hey, (Y/N)-san? Don't rile him up any further, let's just get this whole thing over with quickly. I'm not too hot on this island,” Jay speaks up, his eyes are now fixed on you instead of that pirate. The flintlock he's holding is now aimed loosely between you and the pirate, as if he is not sure on who to shoot.

Why?

The unruly pirate aims the tip of his cutlass dangerously close to your face. “Big talk! But your head is worth 400 million Berries and this village could use them. Now just shut up and die with honour!” he yells, moving his cutlass in a slashing motion.

You move your head back and the blade barely touches the bottom of your chin. You jump back into a bush, tumbling down to the ground.

…!

Jay stands in shock. “(Y/N)—” the voice he uses to call out your name waves with worries and horror.

Right then, you feel warm blood bubbling up inside your throat, threatening to pour out of your mouth. Sweat starts to form on your forehead. You thrust your elbow back, pushing yourself away from the bushes. Landing on the ground, the blood that was sitting idly in your mouth finally escapes. You cough, violently and loudly. You hastily look down to your abdomen only to find the blade of a cutlass lodged through your stomach from the back.

Everything is spinning. The blood would not stop leaving your mouth and the metallic taste of the liquid is making you feel sick and disgusted. Thanks to the adrenaline and shock running through your entire body, you can barely feel the pain on your stomach.

Jay aims his flintlock and fires two shots behind you into the bushes, a body slumps forward to the ground next to you, drenched in his own blood.

“How dare you—” the pirate captain lunges quickly at Jay with his cutlass to which he dodges. After missing his aim, he brings his blade up again and moves it towards Jay again. Jay reacts quickly by holding his flintlock between them, clashing the blade and firearm together.

The noises of footsteps and ruffling of bushes are starting to get louder. It was clear that the pirate's crewmates will arrive soon. Fighting through the pain, you crawl to a quieter place and bring out a Den Den Mushi. “It's— (Y/N), fuck. We need back— shit.” you take a big inhale in an attempt to regulate your breathing. “Backup. Wo… wounded.” You cut the signal as soon as you deliver your message.

You push yourself off the ground, feeling the blade cut in deeper. You let out a curse before grabbing the handle from the back and slowly pulling it out. The edge of the blade cuts through your flesh again, leaving you no choice but to silently groan at the excruciating pain. After what seems like eternity, it finally leaves your body and you throw it on the ground and step on it, breaking it into pieces. “Seastone… no wonder.” Now that it is no longer touching you, you can feel your energy returning although not a lot because of all that blood loss.

There is no use trying to tend to your injury. Jay is on his own right now and it will be a while before backup arrives. You go back to the place before while gripping your wound to prevent too much blood loss, each step you take hurts like hell. Your first mission after a week and this happened. “What luck, (Y/N),” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head in disappointment.

You limp through the forest, turning on your observation haki to find any source of life. But it proves to be futile, since you have to focus on your wound too. The ringing in your ears is starting to get louder and you wish it would go away already.

A scrawny dirty pirate jumps out of the bushes in front of you while holding a flintlock. He aims it at your head. “Cap will be happy if I can kill you right here,” he says, putting his finger over the trigger.

And he pulls the trigger.

The bullet flew to your head and went through it. The hole in your forehead reforms back with water. The pirate looks at you in horror, firing his bullets again while you step closer to him. You take out your tanto as he empties his clip and stumbles backwards to move away from you.

“Fuck! Why didn't anyone tell me you're a damn Logia user!” he yells, pulling the trigger again only to hear a click, signaling there are no bullets left. Defeated, he throws the flintlock at you but it just went right through you. He crawls backwards and further away from you, “Stop! Get away from me! Please!” he pleads.

You form a puddle of water near his mouth and nose, blocking his airway and effectively rendering him unable to speak. He freezes in fear as you stand above him, your hand swings back into the sky. His face turns pale when he realizes what's about to happen.

“Mmph—!”

You thrust your tanto down into his forehead, pushing it in as deep as your body allows you to. His body twitches for a moment before finally going limp.

His eyes look at yours, wide and filled with fear. You pull out your tanto, stepping back from his lifeless body. Your breathing gets heavier, both from pain and adrenaline (and regret). You could only watch as warm blood oozes out of the hole on his forehead and into the ground that is soaking it. The look on his face sends chills down your spine. You gulp.

A look of terror, forever frozen in place.

You hurriedly tear your gaze away from the corpse. Biting your lower lip as you leave it there to continue searching for Jay. No time to get distracted or sentimental, he needs your help right now. Being on a pirate's homeland for so long as a Marine will only cause trouble.

You limp through the forest, trying to find your way back to where Jay was. The rush of adrenaline inside of you helps lower the agonizing pain in your abdomen, though not by a lot. Your heart is beating a little too fast for your liking, almost like in excitement instead of anguish.

Almost like enjoyment.

You try to ignore that overwhelming sickly feeling, focusing on keeping minimal blood loss and finding your partner.

A presence appeared behind you, walking slowly to conceal the sound of footsteps. His hand pulls back into a striking motion, ready to attack. Lunging forward, you immediately turn around and grab his face in your palm. Gripping it tightly, you pull him into a tree and slam his face into the rough bark hard. His body goes limp, falling to the ground laying on his stomach. A puddle of blood begins forming under his head.

You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding. You bend down slightly and take off his rugged jacket to wrap it tightly around your stomach to act as a makeshift tourniquet. You quickly step away from the corpse, leaving it there on its own.

I can't do this anymore.

“Jay,” you weakly call out, your voice coming out hoarse and dry. The taste of blood sits in your mouth, leaving your tastebuds uneasy and disgusted. 

You could see him still struggling with that pirate captain. His face is bruised and his clothes torn with cuts, the ripped fabric stained with both his blood and the pirate's. “Jay, I…” you couldn't finish your words.

The ringing in your head gets even louder. Your head hurts and you couldn't ignore the pain in your stabbed abdomen either. Your vision starts to get blurry, the world is spinning and spinning and you are getting dizzier.

You can barely see Jay, but you could see that some of the pirate's underlings are sneaking up behind him and grabbing his limbs to render him immobile. The pirate sends a barrage of punches to his body, and you can hear Jay violently coughing out blood out of his throat.

The ringing eventually fills your ears, drowning out every other noise and it was all you could hear at that point.

“You fuckers.”

And then everything went black.

Chapter 13: XII ; SO I DUB THEE UNFORGIVEN

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from The Unforgiven by Metallica.

Everything hurts.

Your body is sore all over and a slight movement would send a massive shock of pain. Still — you grip the rough ground tightly, giving everything you have to move into a sitting position. The makeshift tourniquet on your stomach is now heavily stained with your own blood (and others') and the pungent scent of blood is irritating your sense of smell. You try your best to ignore it.

You look around only to find yourself in a different place than before, it is night time and the dark and foggy place barely gives you any hints on where you are. You try recalling the events but your head only responds with a killer headache.

It is eerily silent except for your own ragged breathing.

Whatever the case, you have to get out of here. As if the creepy atmosphere was not enough, your instincts are telling you to leave as soon as possible. Perhaps it's the darkness and overall gloomy surrounding but you could not help but feel as if someone, or something, is watching your every move. You grow even more unsettled.

Using all of your strength, you lift yourself off the ground to stand. Your back is slumping over, trying to endure the growing pain in your stabbed abdomen. You slowly march forward, hoping to see some sort of signs to show where you are. Or anything, really. It's really foggy.

You cover your mouth with your blood and dirt stained hand, coughing into it to muffle the noise in case it attracts anything. “Jay, are you there?” you quietly call out, hoping to hear a response back only to be met with more silence.

You keep on walking, limping through the unknown road. The fog just keeps on coming, and there is no sign that it's going away anytime soon. You let out a frustrated sigh.

“Anyone, please," you croak out, your voice breaking from lack of water and dried blood sitting in your throat.

Hearing no response from anyone, you could only look at the ground in disappointment. But still, you are not giving up so soon. Not that you have any choice anyway, you have to preserve through the pain nonetheless. The Den Den Mushi that was with you is gone, you're not sure where it went but you hope it is somewhere safe. Your sole means of communication is absent though it doesn't seem to be very useful in a place like this.

You walked, and walked, and walked, for who knows how long. The pain is starting to become unbearable but you know that you have to push yourself regardless of the agony. You keep telling yourself that all this effort will prove to be fruitful in the end and all you have to do is just be patient.

And so you continue walking, ignoring every pain signal your body is sending you. Even when your legs feel like falling off, you keep walking. You have no specific directions in mind, you could only hope to find something that can help you go back to New Marineford.

But preservation was not enough. Eventually, your knees give out and before you know it, you're back on the ground. You groan loudly in pain, clutching tightly at your wound. Your hands balled into fists as you repeatedly cursed the world and everything on it. You let out a shaky breath, trying to endure the pain for longer.

In the distance, faint footsteps could be heard. You quickly lift your head up, looking at the direction of where it came from - in front of you.

A slimmer of hope appears within you. Someone. You tried to sit but your body couldn't move as it had no energy left. You use your arms as leverage, to at least let you see who that person is. “Hey, I'm here. I need your help,” you say to the figure.

Amidst the fog, a shadow approaches, inching closer every second. You squint your eyes to try to see more clearly but the thick fog barely shows their silhouette. As they get closer, it is getting clearer that it's a woman judging from the physique.

But she is quiet, except for her footsteps trudging on the ground. “Hello? Can you hear me?” you ask.

No response. You furrow your eyebrows, not sure what to do. Maybe she's deaf, or maybe she's mute. She was still approaching you so you know that she can see you.

You activate your Observation Haki to see how far away she is. You gather up all your energy that is left in you to observe better but strangely, you could not sense her presence. You turn it off, looking back at her. You could still see her, but somehow you could not feel her presence. “Right, I'm still too weak to use any haki right now.” you sigh at the conclusion.

You wait until she arrives. A pair of shoes enters your vision, you slowly lift your head up but she knelt down first to get on your level.

“Thanks, I thought I was alone—”

Your eyes widen. When you saw her face, your heart was in your throat, gripped by a paralyzing combination of shock, fear, and confusion all at once. A sweat trickles down your forehead to the ground. You are frozen in place, unable to do anything except stare at her.

Your lips quiver. “No, that's impossible. What…?”

You stare back at your own pair of eyes. Terribly identical to you, you see yourself kneeling in front of you. "You" slowly tilt "your" head to the side, making an unsettling cracking noise coming from "your" neck. "Your" expression seems as if "you" are looking down on you. You shudder at the cold and dead look in "your" eyes.

“Who are y—”

“You don't recognize yourself, (Y/N)?”

Even the voice is similar, ignoring the fact that it is lacking in emotions and incredibly soulless; it's almost robotic. "Your" lips twist into a smile, the corner of "your" eyes wrinkled. Despite the gleeful expression, the empty look of "your" eyes tell you that it's not genuine by any means.

“Take out your tanto.” You stare back in confusion at "your" instructions. "You" beckons you to move but you only freeze in place.

"You" lets out a chuckle, although that sounded fake too. “Just kidding. It's right here with me.” You watch as "you" dangle your own tanto in front of your face, the blade still stained with dried blood that you didn't get the chance to clean before.

"You" point the tip of the blade to "your" forehead. “Come on, do it to me like you did to him.”

Your breathing becomes shaky as you struggle to breathe. You remember now, you killed a man. The horror expression on his face makes your stomach drop. You want to forget, but you don't deserve to.

“You're taking forever.”

"You" pulls "your" hands back, before immediately springing it forward to "your" head.

Blood sprays on your face, your blood. You watch as "you" pulls out the tanto from "your" forehead, letting more blood leak out and drip down "your" face. "You" throw the tanto to the side, the blade disappears into the fog.

“Stop,” you manage to mutter out. The words in your head couldn't escape your mouth so you can only plead with your terrified eyes. "You" smiles despite the massive wound on "your" forehead and the massive amount of blood staining almost the entirety of "your" face.

“We're just getting started.”

There is nothing there besides you two. Not that it mattered anyway, because you hear a loud thumping noise and when you look at "you" again, "your" face is destroyed to bits. "Your" face is unrecognizable at this point, smashed to the point your brain matter is spilling out of "your" crushed head.

The overwhelming amount of blood coming out of "you" is making you sick to your stomach, your own guts threatening to spill out but nothing comes out. You couldn't bear to watch any longer but it feels like something is forcing you to watch anyway. All you want is to pry your eyes off this gory scene.

"But that wasn't all, was it?”

Even when "your" jaw hangs off "your" face, "you" still manages to speak, “This is your hell, (Y/N). You brought this upon yourself.”

"You" grabs you by your neck, slowly lifting you off the ground. You choke, thrashing around to free yourself from "your" strong grip to no avail. "You" pulls back "your" hand, balling it into a fist before suddenly lunging it at your face at an unbelievable speed.

“NO—!”

Abruptly roused from your slumber, you bolted upright, your eyes wide with terror as the echoes of your own voice travel through the infirmary. Beads of sweat start to form on your forehead with goosebumps all over your body as you try to catch your breath. Your heart raced with fear, its rapid beats echoing the panic within. You look around, yet again finding yourself in another place but this time someplace you are familiar with.

A bunch of medics come running to you, “(Y/N)-san! Are you alright—” You look at them, panting heavily with your eyes in a crazed state. They flinch as your eyes lay on them; not from shock, but rather… fear.

Regardless of their fear, they try to step closer to you to perform their work to which you stop them by holding your hand out. “Don't— don't come any closer,” you say, still not able to differentiate dream and reality.

You look down at your body. Full of bandages and an IV drip needle lodged into your arm. You hastily look at them, your lips still quivering with shock. “You…” you stutter, your voice coming out hoarse since your throat is dry. “You're real, aren't you? Am I actually awake?”

They look at each other in confusion before turning back at you. “Um, we're real, yes?” one of them answers.

You reach behind your back for your tanto, only to find that it's not there. Using your power would drain your energy, especially when you're not well, but your fingers spread open wide to prepare in case you need to use it. “I'm fucking serious. I'll kill you if you're messing with me again.”

It looked as if blood slowly drained from their faces. That look of terror is sickeningly familiar, your hands tremble - your own body recalling what you did. You quickly put your hands down.

It was subtle, but you could hear them breathe a sigh of relief. “You scared me, I thought my heart was going to explode. Did you have a dream?”

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, plopping back into your bed. “Something like that, I guess. God, I…” you trail off, not able to shake that nightmare off your mind. You try to think of something else as a means to distract these thoughts. “I'm so thirsty, get me something to drink, will you?” you requested, giving them a tired expression.

One of them leaves to get water. The blond one inches closer, checking your body to make sure no wounds are reopened from your sudden movement. The brunette goes to write something that you couldn't be bothered to care about. Probably a report or some sort.

“How long was I out for?” you ask.

He thinks for a moment, seemingly calculating the days. “About a week, ma'am,” he answers, resuming checking your injuries.

One of the other medics came back with a bottle of water in her hands, she opened the cap and handed you the bottle. You gladly take it and immediately chug the bottle for so long until it becomes completely empty. You give the bottle back to her for her to throw it away in a nearby garbage bin.

“How are you feeling, (Y/N)-san?” she asks, offering you a sweet smile.

You don't have the energy to return her smile, so you simply nodded. “Really tired and hungry. It still hurts, but I'll manage.”

“I'm glad to hear that, I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“I appreciate it. By the way, what happened with the mission? Is Jay alright? I blacked out, and I can't recall anything after that.”

And then there was silence. Three of them looked at each other, debating if they should answer you or not. You raise your eyebrow at their mannerisms.

The brunette puts down his pen, looking at you with a solemn look on his face. “The mission was successful. Jay-san suffered some pretty bad injuries but he's much better now, he's currently out for a walk right now. They told us that you blacked out after receiving some devastating wounds and—”

“Hold it, man. I don't think you should continue,” the blond guy abruptly interrupts, shooting him a disapproving look. The woman does the same, although her face shows a more worried expression.

You start to get impatient. “What's with the secrecy? You think I can't handle bad news?” you ask, your voice coming out clearly annoyed by the situation.

They start to get restless, seriously debating whether they should tell you the truth or not. You start to get more irritated by the unknown. Surely it can't be that bad, the mission is successful and Jay made it out alright. And you even woke up after being stuck in a small coma, there are not that many casualties by the looks of it.

“To be honest, (Y/N)-san, the Fleet Admiral himself specifically ordered us to not break the news to you. Not by us, at least.”

Your eyebrows furrow, not following what they said. “What do you mean? So no one's gonna tell me?”

“Well,” the woman speaks up, fiddling with the hem of her white uniform gown. “He said to meet him when you're awake, so I'm guessing he'll be the one to tell you about all the details.”

You sigh to yourself, massaging your temples. All this secrecy is hurting your head. Is it that confidential? Everyone seems to know all about it, everyone except you. You hate to be left in the dark and remain oblivious to the information. There is no way to find out except to meet him again, and that's making you nervous enough as it is.

Without hesitation, you pull out the needle in your arm, putting it on the bedside table. You move to the side of the bed, pushing yourself to sit up and hang your legs off the bed to the floor. The pain in your abdomen intensifies with every movement but you try to ignore it with all your might.

“Wait! You shouldn't walk yet!” the brunette exclaims, hurriedly grabbing your arm to stop you from advancing. The blond does the same to your other arm.

You gently push them away, clutching down on your stomach in an attempt to lessen the pain by putting pressure on it. “I'm fine. I need to know what happened, curiosity is killing me.” You grip the edge of the bed and push yourself off of it.

She lands a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look at her. “But you're clearly still in pain, you should rest for a bit more,” she pleads.

You walk past her, patting her on her shoulder. “It'll be quick, I'll return here after I'm finished.”

They could only watch as you leave the infirmary and walk through the hallway to get to the Fleet Admiral's office. They exchange glances at each other, worried about your unhealed injuries and also possibly getting chewed out by the man himself for letting you walk in your current unstable condition. They shake their heads, not looking forward to the outcome.

At the very least, you deserve to know the truth.

 

---

 

As soon as you reach the top of the stairs, you stand quietly beside the entrance of the office. Still clutching into your stomach, you just lean against the wall - taking deep breaths here and there from having to walk up those huge flights of stairs. You glance down at your stomach, lifting up your shirt just enough to see your bandaged abdomen. It's wrapped nicely and neat, albeit a bit too tight for your liking. Not that it can be helped, that tightness helps prevent it from being loose and exposing your injuries.

Leaning your head against the wall, you let out another sigh. If you get this over with quickly, then you can go back to resting as soon as possible.

“Stop hiding, who's there?”

You jolt in place at the sudden voice. Right, observation haki, obviously. You pull down your shirt again, making sure you look presentable at least. You take a deep breath before slowly walking over to the entrance to reveal yourself to him.

There he is sitting comfortably on his chair, his hand gripping a set of papers. That iconic cigar in his other hand, tapping the ashes off in an ashtray. His eyes land on you, his eyebrows furrowing even further.

“Fleet Admiral-han, I'm here to ask about my mission a week ago—”

“You aren't looking too well, Vice Admiral. Did you come here as soon as you woke up?”

You rub the back of your head, your hand slightly trembling with nervousness. “You're right, I did. But I'm alright, I'll go back to rest after I'm done,” you say, your lips twist into an awkward smile.

He sighed, slightly shaking his head in disapproval. “You could've at least waited until you're healed enough so you don't have to hold your stomach all the time.”

“I'm really sorry, but it's kind of urgent. The medics are refusing to tell me and curiosity got the better of me.” You look down to your feet, troubled. “And it doesn't help that I'm getting stares from everyone walking past me on the way here. Maybe because I look like I just escaped from a hospital but their eyes are telling me something else.“

He stays quiet for a while, leaving his cigar on the ashtray and letting it continue burning. You wait for his response, growing restless each passing second and becoming harder to stand still - both from nervousness and pain. Your grip on your stomach tightens.

He clicks his tongue, “Suit yourself. I'll tell you, but I'm not sugarcoating anything.” his voice sharp, serving as a warning to yourself. Sugarcoat, that means this is really serious.

He crosses his arms, briefly looking at the paper on his desk before looking back up at you. “You and Vice Admiral Jay succeeded in the mission, that island won't be infested with pirates for at least a little while. I'm sure you've noticed through their behaviour, the civilians there weren't exactly happy with the idea. They protested against it.”

“So, we managed to get all the pirates arrested?” you ask, a feeling of victory arises.

Your question was met with silence. A silence that is most certainly awkward but also an eerie tone to it. His eyebrows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought.

“No. There weren't any alive to be arrested.”

Those mere words are so heavy that you swear you could feel it sink your heart. Not even one? They are pirates, you would even dare to call some of them savages but a massacre of the entire crew is… too much. They weren't good people and you yourself were not fond of them but your chest feels so damn heavy. Is it out of sympathy? Or is it guilt? You swallow an empty lump in your throat. The water you drank before didn't do shit to your dry throat.

The noises of papers shuffling snap you out of your thoughts. “And it wasn't numbers of our soldiers or cannons from the warships that eradicated their crew,” he pauses, grabbing a paper from the top of the stack. He stares at it before turning it around to show you. “It's you, Vice Admiral.”

Your heart dropped.

In the photograph stands a figure facing the camera. Back slouched, a foot resting on a corpse and a set of eyes that stared directly at the lens. The tall trees cast shadows everywhere, except the eyes. The light just perfectly aligns with your iris, clearly presenting how unnatural it looks. Through the dim forest, corpses lie everywhere. There is so much blood that it almost got rid of the green of the surroundings. Your usually monochrome outfit is now stained with maroon. A picture of a brute Vice Admiral of the Marines.

“Once backup arrived, they found you in this state. Communication didn't have any effect as you were unresponsive. You immediately fell to the ground after they came close, and it's concluded that you were unconscious the entire time while rampaging.”

Rampaging is the correct word to use.

A profound shame and disappointment echoes in the chambers of your soul. All you wanted to do was disappear right at that moment and never come back to show your face ever again. As good as that sounds, you could only dream. Like it or not, you have to face the reality and the consequences of your own actions albeit not on purpose.

You hold on tighter to your stomach, tighter than it needs to be. As if to vent all your frustrations on your own wound or perhaps an act of reprimanding yourself. Not realizing it, you were practically clawing your injured abdomen.

A subtle intake of breath signals his discreet but undeniable surprise. “Vice Admiral,” he calls out. Your hand pauses, your head raising to look at him. “Enough of that. You've opened your stitches.”

And sure enough, your bandages begin staining with blood. You hastily push down, attempting to stop the bleeding to no avail. “Fuck,” you softly mutter, not wanting to let him hear the profanity coming out of your mouth (he heard it anyway). “I'm so sorry, I'll take my leave now.” you turn around to the entrance, biting down on your lip to stop yourself from cursing even more.

“No, stay.”

You glance over your shoulder, not sure if you heard that right.

He looks down, sighing. “Just sit down on the couch. I don't want blood on my floor.”

You furrow your eyebrows, perplexed at his words. “I'll walk fast, I'll make sure I won't spill a single drop,” you reply, clutching tighter to your stomach to prevent it from leaking out of the bandages and to the ground.

Sakazuki fixed a piercing, unyielding glare upon you, silencing the room with his steely demeanor. “Sit.” The intensity of his eyes telling you as if he's daring you to take another step.

Not wasting a single second, you immediately scurry over to the couch located on the right side of the room. You sit down as quickly as you could, despite the sharp pain from moving too fast. You could only watch as he leaves his desk and walks towards you. Your heart thumping hard, not able to meet his gaze. You didn't want to challenge his authority.

He stops in front of you, bending down and kneeling to get on your level. His eyes trail down from your eyes to your bandaged stomach, to which you're still holding very tight to. His jaw clenches. “Lift up your shirt.”

You blink in disbelief and your mouth hangs agape, utterly taken aback. “Sorry?” you croak out, not believing your ears.

“Your shirt, lift it up. I'll fix the bandages, that should buy you some time to go back to the infirmary without losin' too much blood on the way.”

Is he crazy, or are you crazy? This must've been another dream, because why else would the Fleet Admiral kneel down and fix your bandages on his own accord? You don't dare to move. Maybe you had already lost too much blood and now you're hallucinating. That's the only logical reasoning for this bizarre situation. You shake your head, removing your thoughts. Hesitantly, you slowly lift your shirt up, revealing your stomach wrapped in bandages now stained red.

His hands reached out, pausing for a moment of indecision and uncertainty. He pushes through, finally letting himself put his hands around your stomach. You couldn't help but flinch the moment both of you came in contact, on your vulnerable part of the body no less. His hands slowly travel around, just appropriate enough to search for the ends of the loose bandages. Once he found it, he loosened it even more. A glimpse of your skin exposed, he inhales. His hands are loosely resting around your waist.

That damn Borsalino was right. Tiny waist, this is. And a sense of frustration courses through his veins when he realizes Borsalino got his hands on you first.

“You really didn't have to do this, I would've been fine,” you suddenly speak, breaking the intense silence. He pulls on the bandages, tightening it and making sure your injuries are not exposed. You hisses at the pain from the pressure. “Mph— This is wrong, you're my boss. You shouldn't...”

He loops the bandages around. “It's a one-time thing,” he simply said. He pulls again, tightening.

You hold yourself back from cursing again. “That hurts.” Your hands grip the couch, hard.

You did not want to complain, but you couldn't help but flinch every time he pulled on the bandages. It's growing harder to stay still and it's clear it was distracting him. You involuntarily moved again, and this time he holds your waist tighter to keep you in place. His fingers dig deep into your skin, his thumbs resting just below your ribs. Heat rises to your cheeks, and suddenly the room feels hot. Every thing is hot. “Stay still, Vice Admiral. It'll be over soon.”

He pulls again. Beads of sweat start to roll down your temples. He's using too much of his strength, and you couldn't handle it anymore. He pulls the bandages tighter again. Your instincts start to act up; it was too late when you realized you had accidentally grabbed his wrist and stopped his movement. He looks up at you, seemingly taken back by your sudden actions.

His jaw clenched. Not with anger, but with something else entirely. Perhaps it was those set of pleading eyes looking back at him or your hand wrapped around his wrist, or maybe the fact that he has his hand on a vulnerable part of your body.

“Oh, shit, I…” you quickly let go, also taken back by what you did. You really want to disappear at this point, you've embarrassed yourself enough to last a lifetime. You don't know why you couldn't shake that feeling of your hand on his wrist. He radiates more body heat than the average person and you could feel that. But still, that was just straight up disrespectful. “I'm sorry, sir.”

His eye twitched. Sir. It sounds different when you say it. It's nothing, he tells himself. It sounded different simply because that's the first time you used that word.

He didn't say anything to that, instead just continued on fixing your bandages in silence. With occasional winces and whimpers of pain, it felt like forever until you finally realized he was done. Your abdomen is now neatly wrapped in not so clean bandages, thanks to your blood for leaking out earlier. Embarrassment takes over you once again and you quickly let go of the hem of your shirt for it to fall back down and cover your body.

It certainly feels better now that he helped fix it. “You're… good at this,” you comment, breaking the silence.

He slowly and deliberately stood, transitioning from a kneel to an upright posture. Fixing his coat, he answers your comment. “It's basic skills for a soldier. You'll get injured in a battlefield and medics don't have the time to tend to all. That's when you'll have to rely on yourself.”

Well, there's truth to that. You've been injured a lot of times before you're officially declared a Vice Admiral but you never really bothered to learn basic first aid, only having relied on Jay to patch you up every time. And he never complained, he simply took it as a chance to further improve his skills as a doctor. Having a doctor friend certainly has its benefits but in return you neglect basic knowledge.

You stand up from the couch, facing away from Sakazuki to fix your wrinkled shirt.

He silently watches you from the back. Now that you're not wearing your coat, he has a full view of your back. His eyes slowly travel down to your nape - smooth and soft. Dark purple spots decorated and spread around your neck, healed bruises from your mission before.

But he's still a man. He could only imagine the purple spots around your neck would not be from fighting, but rather from something incredibly intimate.

Something so incredibly intimate that he felt like punching himself in the face when he realized those thoughts crossed his mind at that moment. What the actual fuck? He asks himself. He quickly pry his eyes off your nape and to the ground. The blood in his veins pumps faster than before. The stress of this job is getting to him, isn't it? To even dare think these wildly inappropriate thoughts of his own subordinate. Thoughts that have never crossed his mind before he met you.

And he'll be damned if you could hear his thoughts. You can't though - your back turned to him, completely oblivious of the war waging in his mind at that moment.

Even a glimpse of your nape almost drove him crazy. He knows deep down that wasn't the only factor as to why he's having these thoughts. Earlier was one of them, having his hands on your waist, holding it carefully so as to not hurt you more. The size difference made him swallow an empty lump in his throat.

Or one of those times where you would wear a crop top, your stomach revealed to the world. He would find himself catching glances at that part of your body. Sometimes your pants would droop an inch and your v-line would come into sight. He noticed all of it, much to his dislike.

Wearing that sort of clothes definitely attracted the attention of other men. A woman in the Navy was already uncommon enough, and in their eyes you are very attractive. Although it would kill him to admit this now, there's definitely some kind of charm to you. A charm that would bewitch just about any man. A charm that might have bewitched himself. Not that he would ever acknowledge this feeling, especially when he's extremely busy with work. He doesn't have time to think about women. Not when you're 15 years younger than him.

“Thank you, Fleet Admiral-han.”

It was your words that broke him out of his trance. He didn't even notice you had already turned back to face him again.

Stop it, you fool.

His own words ring in his head. He clears his throat. “Don't let this happen again. Go on, Vice Admiral. You're dismissed.”

His demeanor changed, and you noticed it. Despite his calm posture, his face looked restless. You bite your lip, already thinking of the worst. He must have felt annoyed having to help you. In his words, first aid is basic skills for a soldier. And it was basically your fault anyway for immediately deciding to walk when you have been bedridden for a week. And it was also your fault for not regulating your own emotions and resulting in your stitches opening up.

Being in his presence for another second might tick him off. He has dismissed you, and dismissing yourself is exactly what you are going to do. You slightly bow your head to him, a sign of respect for his authority and immediately scurried out his office.

After seeing you leave his office, he goes to walk back to his desk. The cigar he left on the ashtray earlier had already burned to the end. Grabbing a brand new cigar, he lights it with his magma and takes a long, deep inhale. Exhaling the smoke, he holds the cigar in his hand. His other hand goes to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut close. A sigh escapes his lips. Too many thoughts racing in his mind that it's giving him a headache.

“Get a hold of yourself, Sakazuki,” he whispers to himself.

Notes:

1. We're getting BOLD in this chapter. I think this might be my favourite chapter so far, it just makes me so damn giddy. I will always be an enjoyer of reader-insert fics. It's a guilty pleasure at this point.

2. And we're only on chapter 12. Can I call this a slow burn? I feel like it's a medium burn.

Chapter 14: XIII ; IN THE WIND OF CHANGE

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Wind of Change by Scorpions.

Things have been rather complicated after you woke up from your small coma. You are still the same old you, albeit a bit shaken after hearing what happened on that mission. Yet everything else changed.

Walking down the corridors is something you do every day, and thus you have grown used to it. A bleak routine, nothing more. Passing by a couple cadets and they would greet or bow to you. And each time you would nod your head, acknowledging them. You noticed some of them would linger their gaze on you but you didn't mind. Men, they do that occasionally.

And they still do the same things they have been doing all this time. Greet or bow to you; except the look in their eyes and their behavior changed. You noticed they seemed more curious, defensive, frightened. Low-ranking cadets would flinch at the sight of you, as if they were looking at a monster (they were). But they know that they must show respect no matter the circumstances, and so they did.

Frankly, you don't blame them. Hearing that story about the new Vice Admiral would put just about anybody on their toes.

Though, it still stings. You didn't have the best reputation - extremely quiet and keeping things to yourself, only ever hanging out with Jay. Not socializing a lot might have docked some rep points but the pirate crew massacre tainted your image even more. And while no one outright asked or talked to you about it, you just know that there are so many unanswered questions in their minds. You don't have the definite answers for them either. Perhaps it's a good thing they keep those questions to themselves.

You sit silently in your office, the only sounds you can hear are the mellow music blasting from the radio on your desk. Your legs stretched out on the desk and your arms crossed. Might not be the most comfortable position but given your height, you would much rather stretch your legs out to prevent it from cramping.

You look over to the small pot of rose on the edge of the desk. Still thriving, no thanks to you. The flower was watered either by a garden attendant or the Fleet Admiral himself while you were still out cold on that bed in the infirmary. Leaving it in the garden would undoubtedly make you forget its existence so you decided to put it in your office. You positioned it just right so that the sunlight can still reach the plant.

The pink petals of the rose serve a great contrast to the dark wooden desk of yours. On the contrary, it also compliments the stark white colour nicely much like the iconic outfit Sakazuki is always seen in.

Tsk, you make a frustrated noise. Even when you are trying to relax from earning stares from everyone, your mind somehow finds a way to think about him.

Lately has been confusing for you. The incident, Cain, your own morals but you would never expect for… this, to be one of them. Whatever this is, it's hurting your head immensely. Sure, you thought about him before too but it somehow multiplied after that moment in his office days ago. Just how close both of you were. The heat of his palm still lingers on your waist, and in return your cheeks feel the same heat too.

It's getting unbearable by the second. All these unknown feelings just because a man puts his hands on your body. Not like this hasn't happened before, you remember vividly Kizaru holding you by your waist during that spar you had with him. Those large hands of theirs both held your waist, and yet only of them left an effect on you when it shouldn't.

To say you're oblivious is wrong, because you know exactly just what these feelings are although you yourself refuse to believe it. It's only temporary, you tell yourself. It'll go away soon, you try your hardest to convince yourself.

You don't have any experience when it comes to this matter, despite having been on this earth for quite a long time. You could never be bothered to care about men in that way. Some have made romantic advances towards you, even the former Admiral, but you've never reciprocated. Not only were you uninterested, but you're not sure if you deserve it. To be wanted. To deserve love.

It never bothered you when others your age are already in relationships, most with families of their own.

But your heart aches. It longs for something, someone, and you aren't entirely sure if you're thinking of the right person. Or if you even should.

You tear your eyes away from the pink rose on your desk. You could only hope these feelings will fade away as time goes on. You can't bear to yearn for someone who is so far away, to hold onto hope for something that feels out of reach, and to desire someone so damn forbidden.

 

---

 

“Cain.”

He hums back in response, not lifting his head up from the newspaper he's reading. A cup of chamomile tea sits nicely on the desk in front of him as he quietly munches on some grapes.

He glances at the person standing in front of his desk before returning back to the newspaper. “It's been a while since you showed your face here,” he comments, picking a berry from a grape from its stems and eating it. Cain is not very fond of sweets but fruits always satisfy his cravings, he makes an exception for natural sweets; they have actual benefits to his health.

The person stands in silence, not sure of what to say.

“I see this troublesome kid's face on the news almost every day,” he says, flicking the newspaper when it starts to droop from gravity. “Liberating the Wano country and now he's apparently on Egghead. I can't tell what's going on in his mind.”

“Are you still going with that plan?”

Cain's hand pauses mid-air. He takes a deep breath before returning a berry back to the plate amongst the other fruits. He sets down the newspaper on his desk and spins his chair to face him. His arms crossed to his chest.

“Are you planning on backing out now?” Cain asks.

His fists clenched. “You've met her. She's doing better now, I don't think you should ruin that for her.”

He can't help but emit a raspy, humorless chuckle. “Why, you're starting to feel bad for your dear friend? Just now?” His voice carries a touch of irony, as if he finds the notion preposterous, yet there's a glint of something more complex in his eyes, a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Don't say that. What did she do other than being born to terrible parents? She's not like them. She's not them.”

He scoffs at the sad attempt to garner sympathy for you. He had made up his mind a long time ago, a few sentences wouldn't budge him. The resentment he holds in his heart is not so easy to get rid of, not when he knows you're still out there.

“You said she's doing better, I highly doubt that. Are you saying that just because she saved your life that day? Seeing you so powerless awakened something inside her. Something that she carries in her blood.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean? Awakened what?”

Cain sips on his tea, relishing the taste. “That rage, that raw strength, that lust for violence, it's all in her blood. Even when she was a child, she had always been strong - stronger than those older than her. It was up to me at that time to keep her under control so that she wouldn't wreck havoc on that sad island. The way she is now… it's really all from my own effort.

(Y/N) has the Kradvine race in her blood. A race of violent, apathetic humans with no definite sense of morals. They possess natural abnormal strength and they have the ability to snap, turning into rampaging monsters that lust for blood. Violence is in their genes.”

Jay shifts in place uncomfortably at the new information he's been given to. “Apathetic? (Y/N) is capable of normal human emotions. She feels the same thing we do, she just doesn't show it often.”

A sigh escapes the older man's lips. “That's because she's only half Kradvine. Her father wasn't from that race, and he was essentially what you would call a ‘normal human’ is. And what do you get when you mix their genes? A child that is constantly battling her lust for blood and a moral dilemma.”

The Vice Admiral responds with another silence. The way you act so nonchalant at times as if you barely care about anything. The criminals you defeated during your time as a bounty hunter was always left in a crippled state. And that mission, responsible for awakening the Kradvine inside you. All these instances and he assumed it was just a part of your personality.

“But that's still not her fault. She's not fully Kradvine, she can still differentiate right from wrong. Even if she was violent at times, she was only violent to those that deserves it.” Still hell-bent on defending you, Jay stood his ground. Violence runs in your veins but gentleness is also part of you.

Cain's nose scrunches in annoyance, the creases on his forehead deepening. “That incident awakened her inner Kradvine, and it'll only get worse if no one keeps her under control. I can't let that happen, I can't let her become her parents. This is my mercy for her, to kill her and stop their bloodline. And when that happens, I will disband HYSTERIA 101 and the manufacturing of REIGNs altogether.”

He takes a deep breath, not wanting to release the pent-up hatred in his mind to Jay. “And no more families will have to suffer from this damn drug. Maybe then I'll have my peace—and everyone else.”

“...he'll keep her under control.”

Cain's eyes quickly dart at Jay, who is now staring at the floor, avoiding his gaze. “Who?” he asks.

“The Fleet Admiral. He can keep her under control. Until then, don't go forward with this plan.”

He scoffs, almost laughing at it. The Fleet Admiral? Akainu? How will that mutt stop her when Cain himself couldn't? Unless Jay meant something else—

“She found someone she could pledge loyalty to. It's not in her nature to willingly obey to a superior, but she likes him. Anything he says goes. She's finally starting to feel something she's never felt before, and I can't bear to see that taken away from her.” Jay pauses, thinking of his next words carefully to convince this man. “Let her feel content with her life for once—”

He laughs. Cain could not believe his ears but it's true. It's really happening, and it's all so hilarious to him. Jay's shoulders stiffened at his sudden reaction.

“Out of everyone, she chose him? She just had to go and pick a troublesome man.” He picks up a strawberry from the plate and eats it. “I presume he won't be happy when she's gone. Looks like I'll have to put more thoughts into this plan. That's one more problem I have to deal with.”

He grabs an orange and tosses it to Jay, to which he quickly caught it. “Keep me updated, Jay. I'll consider your request.”

Jay leaves his office begrudgingly. The coat of justice sitting on his shoulders felt heavier than usual.

 

---

 

Rows of stern-faced recruits stand at attention, their crisp uniforms reflecting the blazing sun. Towering mast-like flagpoles flank the parade square, bearing the insignia of the Marines. Faces that you would not remember tomorrow.

“Right, well.” You start to speak up, feeling of uncomfort steadily rising as those pairs of eyes stare intensely at you. Their hands rest behind their backs, sweats forming on their faces from the heat of the sun.

One of the benefits of being the user of the water-water fruit is it constantly keeps you cool. Heat doesn't bother you like a normal person does. Thirst is a rare occurrence too, only ever happening when you're not able to use your power for a long time, like the coma recently. You could tell they envy that ability, watching your face that has no sweats on it. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't help them. This is their training and endurance is just one part of it.

You rub your head, not wanting to stand still. “Alright then, I have no damn clue how to train people but it's his orders, so I can't refuse.”

Right… the only reason you are here standing in front of these cadets is because you were ordered by the Fleet Admiral himself to train them.

“Don't dwell on that incident too much. There are still cadets lacking with their training, and Garp is currently out on a mission. I want you to go and take his place for today.”

Who are you to refuse his direct orders? Truth be told, you would much rather sleep in your office, or maybe go and take a stroll around the garden. You are still healing from that wound, though you're already deemed well enough to move like usual instead of being stuck on that stiff bed.

“The doctors had already cleared you, so you're back on duty. But I prohibit you from getting involved in any heavy physical activities.That wound of yours still needs time to heal and I don't want to hear that you're back at the infirmary so soon.”

Duly noted, you thought to yourself.

A bunch of cadets approach the training area, large crates held close to their chest as they struggle to endure the weight. You would've helped them, but orders are orders. You don't dare to disobey. You usher them to put the crates on the ground, heavy slams as they do so.

“You'll train with a weapon today, so I'll give you the chance to take anything that you want. But before that, you pipsqueaks need some warming up to do. 15 laps around the track. Move!”

Without wasting a second, they began to jog in formation. You take this chance to go over to the crates and sit on one of them, silently watching as they slowly get out of breath. And they're not even 3 laps in.

You swing your leg over the other, already getting bored. If Jay was here, you would talk with him but he is apparently out somewhere. You hum a melody to yourself, recalling the songs that were playing on the radio earlier. You keep humming as you count their laps.

Some time later, they finally halted. The silence is then replaced by their loud breathings. It almost sounded like an asthma attack, but you know they just lack Oxygen and perhaps are trying to trick you into thinking they're having breathing problems. You pay no mind.

“Good job. Now, like I said earlier, you can take any weapon you like. Or don't, that's fine too.” You hop off the crate you were sitting on, tapping the top to signal them to get moving.

They break out of formation and approach the crates. Their hands running all over the insides, searching to wield something they are familiar with. Some cadets stood still, preferring to use their bare hands instead. The crowd surrounding the crates eventually lessen by the minutes and everyone is back at their place in the formation.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, a voice interrupted you. “Permission to speak, Vice Admiral.”

You cock your head to the side. “Granted, who was that?” you ask, searching for the source of the voice.

A hand rises to the sky, drawing attention to a man with a determined look on his face. “Seaman First Class, Streak. May I request a spar?”

Almost immediately, the other cadets moved their heads to look at him. Shocked and fear imprinted on their faces, but none dared to make a sound. They could only shoot him disapproving looks, trying to convince him to take his words back.

You raise your eyebrow, curious by his boldness. “Normally I would say yes but I have been ordered to refrain from doing heavy physical activities. And as such, I'm afraid it's a no.”

You turn to face away from him before he speaks up again. “It'll be quick. And I'm sure you can defeat me in seconds.”

By this time, the other cadets began to voice their disapproval.

“She said no, don't push it.”

“Just stop.”

“What's the matter with you?”

You're confident that he will only keep insisting even if you refuse a second or third time. And there is truth in his words, you can end the spar in seconds. That might be ideal; defeat him once and he will get over it. You don't want to drag this out. any further. You have other things to do.

You point to the empty training area. “Fine. I'll entertain you for a bit, I'd rather not waste any more of their time. Step up.”

The squadron watches as both of you approach the training area, all of them spread out around the perimeter to get the best seat and view. It was quiet, except for murmurs. The sun shines down on the training area, perfectly lighting up the arena. You stand with your hands shoved in your pockets.

Watching your nonchalant posture, his nose scrunches—irked by the fact you're too casual for this spar. “You're not taking this seriously, are you?” he asks.

You simply raise your shoulders, a deadpan look etched into your face. “No. I'm doing something I shouldn't and I just want to get it over with as soon as possible. I'm the one that will be in trouble, you know.”

He raises his flintlock at you, aiming directly at your head. You raise your eyebrow at his aim. Surely he knows that regular bullets do not have any effect on you, a Logia user. Perhaps it was a mistake to accept his request for a spar, the guy is clearly inexperienced.

But inexperience is exactly why you're here in Garp's place.

Without so much of a warning, he lunges forward, spinning the flintlock away in his hand and instead pulling out a sword he had hidden behind his back. Immediately getting into position, you swiftly take out your tanto and the blades clash with each other. His strength isn't enough compared to yours. He's using two hands to hold his sword and you're defending yourself only with one. Your other hand still shoved inside your pocket.

Through the clanging of the blades, Streak stares intensely at you. A thousand questions in his eyes, and yet only one managed to come out. “Is the rumour true?” he blurts out, watching the subtle change in your bored expression. He pushes the sword further.

“...I don't see how that's relevant to this spar,” you shortly answer, your breath catching in your throat. A tightening sensation in your chest returns.

Your mind begins to recall the events, something you wish so badly to forget. The smell of blood and their terrified screams never leave your memories. It's always in the back of your mind and Streak managed to pull it to the front.

The blades slide off each other and the two of you jump back, maintaining a safe distance. That huge leap created a sharp pain in your stomach, but the stitches are fine. Despite this, you decided to keep going.

He leaps forward once again, this time moving the sword quickly in an attempt to slash you. You push each strike of the blade away with your tanto, backing up in the process. Streak keeps pressing forward, pushing you farther and farther away. Had it not been for the unhealed injury, you would've moved more but dodging is all you can do right now (and allowed to).

Eventually, your back hits one of the crates filled with weapons earlier and Streak takes the opportunity to do one final thrust. You clench your jaw, your hand moves on its own.

“That's enough.”

The tip of your tanto barely touched his neck, exactly where the jugular vein is located. His hand trembles, dropping the sword to the ground. Death would've been imminent had one more second pass. Sweats trickle down his forehead.

You lower your tanto, looking to the side. And sure enough, Sakazuki stands there. His eyebrows furrowed all the way.

The cadets quickly do the salutation, standing up straight as he approaches you. The visor of his cap covers his eyes but the way he bites down on his cigar is proof that he's not happy. Streak backs away. You push yourself from the crate, clutching onto your pained abdomen with a wince.

“Leave us alone.” He glares at them, shooting daggers just by his eyes. The cadets quickly give you some space, venturing off to the opposite side of the training grounds and in formation.

You look up at him, his eyes staring back at yours. You can't help but discreetly glance at the tattoos peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Your heart skips a beat.

“I thought I made myself clear, Vice Admiral,” he says, his voice hoarse and low. Disappointment clear as day.

“You did. I'm sorry, he kept insisting and I wanted to get it over with quickly.”

Taking out his cigar from his mouth, his hand transforms into magma. The cigar completely decimates from the immense heat. The foul smell of the smoke is no longer present and your nose is comfortable once again.

“Don't make it worse than it already is.” You shift uncomfortably on your feet. “Return to the barracks, and rest. Stainless will take over. I don't want to see you roaming around unless absolutely necessary, understood?”

Your lips press into a frown. “Yes, sir.”

His breath hitched. He hates how good that word sounds coming out of you.

Sheathing your tanto, you fix your coat. It's already stained with dirt, you'll have to send it to get washed later. The pain in your stomach intensifies once again and you press down on it.

“Does it still hurt?”

You bite your lip. Terribly. “Yes,” you simply answer.

His eyes linger on you, moving down to your stomach before looking you in the eyes again. He turns away, the slope of his shoulders relaxes. He turns his head slightly, glancing at you.

“Rest well.”

And he leaves. Back to his office.

And suddenly the pain in your stomach was gone, only to be replaced by a fluttering sensation. Heat rises to your cheeks.

You waited until Stainless finally arrived, and you promptly return to the barracks—to rest well, as he told you to.

Notes:

1. The Kradvine race and Seaman First Class Streak are not canon, had to clarify that.

Chapter 15: XIV ; I THOUGHT I WAS A FOOL FOR NO ONE

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Supermassive Black Hole by Muse.

The office is shrouded in a dim glow, just barely lighting up his space. The dim light reveals a landscape of scattered documents on the polished wooden desk. The subdued ambiance hints at a long day's work, leaving behind an almost somber atmosphere. His hand clenched into a fist as he got hit with another headache. A harsh sigh leaves his lips.

“Tired?”

Maybe working hard non-stop for days has finally driven him insane. What other explanation could there be for hallucinating your voice? It came out as a whisper, low enough to send chills throughout his body. So soft that it might lull him to long needed sleep. He doesn’t respond, instead tries to focus harder on the papers he had scattered all over his desk. Long paragraphs of words begin to hurt his eyes.

“You need to rest.”

A gentle hand wraps around his right arm, hindering him from writing. He can feel soft breathing on his ear.

“Quit it,” he warns, his voice laced with irritation. If you keep touching him like that, he won't be able to focus. He has no time for distractions, not during this terrible era of pirates. He had already strived to get rid of them all; no matter what it takes, no matter the sacrifices—

A breeze hit his hair, and he realized that his cap was no longer on his head. He looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed. You return his stern gaze with a cheeky smile, setting his cap aside on the desk. Lifting your hand, you gently brush away the stray strands that had fallen on his forehead. You could see a few grey hairs growing among his mostly black hair.

Your hand slowly slides down from his hair to his cheek, cupping it with your palm. His breath quickens. Pull away, his mind screams at him. But he stayed still, only ever looking up at your eyes. His fingers twitch at your warm touch—though not quite as warm as his. But your warmth was enough to disturb his peace.

You dare to lean closer to his face before pausing and turning to his ear instead. Your thumb rubbing circles on his cheekbone. “How much longer do you plan on resisting me?” you whisper, your other hand now resting on his shoulder. Squeezing it in hopes of inciting a response from him.

And it worked. His shoulders immediately tensioned, not just from you squeezing it but also from you whispering sweet nothings to his ear. His jaw clenches.

Your provocations still didn't elicit a verbal response from him, so you leaned back and created an appropriate distance between you and Sakazuki.

He finally lets out a deep shaky breath, not realizing he had been holding them in. Feeling how dangerously close you were to him left his heart palpitating. He shifts uncontrollably in his seat.

Just when he thought it was over, a pair of arms wrapped around his neck from the back of his chair and once again the warmth returned—only this time, it was on his nape instead. A sweat trickled down his temple. He swallows an empty lump.

“Don't hold yourself back,” you whisper from behind his ear. Your hand gently grabs the bottom of his jaw and tilts it to the side, exposing more of his tattooed neck. The purple ink and his tanned skin is a nice match.

He couldn't move, he didn't dare to. His mind is all over the place, but mostly cursing him out for being paralyzed. Fear? Confusion? Anger? He knows it was not any of them. The way his chest rises and falls rapidly signifies none of those. It was something more sinful, something he didn't want to feel. And yet, his body ignores his brain anyway.

Your other hand now rests on his exposed chest, pulling away the collar of the shirt to ease your way in even more. His shoulders immediately tensioned once more, twitching and shaking as he felt your hand travel down his body through his white suit. He closes his eyes, not believing the situation unfolding right now. He wishes for it to stop but he knows he wants more, he doesn't dare to say it out loud.

“(Y/N),” he mutters out in a quiet gasp.

After a while of only addressing you by your rank, it felt nice to finally hear Sakazuki say your name again. You couldn't believe it was this easy to break him, just a little touch in the right places and he will crumble. All those coldness melted in a second.

You don't want to torture him any longer. Releasing your hand from his jaw, you go to pull his collar back slightly to expose more of his skin. You lean closer to his skin with your mouth agape and sink your teeth into his inked shoulder.

His eyes shot open.

Everything feels cold again. The warmth from your hands on his body had disappeared. The pen he was holding to write in the documents earlier had rolled almost to the edge of the desk. He turns his head to observe the back of his seat, only to find an empty shadowed spot hiding from the dim lights.

It was a dream. A fucking dream. And he had never felt so relieved.

The absolute ridiculousness in that dream felt utterly disrespectful to him. Never in his life would he submit like that like a pathetic dog begging for attention. If the dream continued longer than that, he might have to witness himself kneel over for someone else—and a wave of disgust and embarrassment washes over him. He had sworn sometime before his time as the Fleet Admiral to never stoop that low.

And it pisses him off that the situation wouldn't even be accurate. If anything, he would be the one to have someone else kneel over for him - not the other way around.

Things have gotten more complicated than before. As if having you stuck in his mind isn't enough, you had to go and enter his dreams. And doing an unacceptable thing to him, that is…

It wasn't real, but he hated how he can still somehow feel the heat of your palms on his torso. The way your breath tickles his ear or feeling you pressed so close to him. It lingers on his skin like morning dews on petals. Once again, his heartbeats quickened. It suddenly felt like he was experiencing it again. The night breeze was cold, but his office felt oddly hot.

The heat in his body was too much. Standing up from his chair, he leaves his office. He needed to go somewhere else to cool off, and he knows exactly where that is.

 

---

 

“Come on, Zoom. I already gave you those carrots, I can't give you mine. Can snails even eat curry?”

Zoom sure is a gluttonous snail. Even when his small bowl is already filled with chopped boiled carrots, he still wants those carrots in your lunchbox that have already been coated in curry. And he's not even halfway done yet. His eyes never move away from your food that you had brought for yourself.

If he was a human, you would have shared some. In fact, you accidentally cooked extra. “I really overestimated my appetite there, didn't I? But you still can't have these.” You hover your lunchbox above the snail, his small eyes showing frustration.

You set your lunchbox aside to carry Zoom and his bowl to be put somewhere else, somewhere far away from you so he wouldn't crawl towards your human food. He was definitely upset but eventually gave up and decided to eat the carrots he was given. You felt bad but it was for his own good.

You returned to the old wooden bench, grabbing the lunchbox to resume eating. The seat was conveniently placed right in front of the bonsai trees, planted nicely in big pots. And every single one of them had a name written on the clay container, Sakazuki. He made it very clear these old plants belonged to him and no one else. You chuckle at the thought of him sitting down and taking his time to write his name on every single one of them. He has nice handwriting at least.

It is midnight, or maybe early morning already. You didn't bother to check the clock. But it was peaceful, not having to constantly hear movements and chatters. You appreciate the moment of serenity, surrounded by beautiful plants.

You kept eating in silence until you heard the metal door to the garden creaking open. Why is someone here at this hour? You stopped chewing, realizing the same can be said about you. Still filled with curiosity, you watch carefully to see who it was.

The clackings of the heels of dress shoes against the stone floor can be heard. Soon, you see a tall figure approaching the bonsai section. You could guess who it was.

“Fleet Admiral-han?”

He stops dead in his tracks once he hears your voice. He had heard your voice so many times but for the first time ever, it stunned him. His mind begins recalling the weird dream he just had moments before he arrived in the garden. He could still hear your voice whispering to him, and how deranged it made him feel. It sounded so innocent and harmless compared to the one that made him break.

That will never happen again, even if it was just a dream.

When met with silence, you wonder if you have gotten the wrong person. “Sorry, I thought…”

He takes a step further to reveal himself and your words hang in the air. You grip your lunchbox, your shoulders tensioned. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat again. Something in his eyes looked different than usual.

“Ah, it was you…” you continued.

You are so different from the one in his dream. So damn nervous with his presence and not cocky at all. You would never dare put your hands on him like that—not without his permission, that is.

“Why are you still up, Vice Admiral? I'm pretty sure I told you to rest.” He glances at the lunchbox in your hand, and the other one you had put next to you.

You give him an awkward smile. “I did rest, but I couldn't sleep and I was hungry.” You gesture to the lunchbox in your hands.

Such polar opposites. If he told you to do the exact same things you did to him in that dream, your face would've gotten so red you might actually combust. So why did that happen? Was it his own mind conjuring that scenario? Was it something he actually desired deep down in his heart? That couldn't be.

“Do you ever listen?” he asks, mostly rhetorical.

“Only occasionally.” A cheeky smile drawn on your lips.

Fuck. It's the same damn smile. Just a simple smile and it's enough to make Sakazuki uneasy. And you have absolutely no idea about it, he masks his feelings pretty well. Just enough so that you couldn't sense it.

How could he desire that? He struggles to fathom being broken by someone instead of being the one in control. The role should've been reversed… Or maybe it should've never happened at all. It was only a weird dream, it doesn't mean or imply anything more. He needs to stop overanalyzing it.

Silence fell. The light illuminating from the moon shines just right on his face, and you could clearly see his tired sleepless eyes. A brilliant idea pops up in your head.

“You don't look good.”

“I appreciate the honesty.”

“Want some curry?”

Sakazuki raises his eyebrow, not expecting you to offer the extra food you had brought. “You said you were hungry.”

You grab the other lunchbox and hand it to him. “This one is enough for me. I cooked way more than I should, but I didn't want to waste it.”

Since when did the both of you become casual enough that you could just go and offer leftover food to him? Was it because he had touched you in an intimate area that one time? If it was anyone else, he would give them the cold shoulder and harshly reject them. He didn't work here to make friends, it was all to pursue his idea of justice. But here he is, not able to find it in him to reject you like he would others. Resisting has never felt so damn hard for him.

He sighed through his nose, looking away briefly before looking back at you. “I suppose I have nothing to lose,” he said, accepting the lunchbox that is too small compared to his size. You scoot over to the edge of the bench, giving him space to sit.

It's not him to suddenly accept food given to him by someone he hadn't known for a long time. Being naturally distrustful of people, he would automatically assume it's poisoned or something in it will harm him internally. Despite knowing that you are capable of turning ruthless, he trusted you enough to not lace the food with harmful substances. And so he took the spoon and dug in.

That would be the right choice, because the curry tasted immaculate. Better than he expected. Sure, it wasn't extravagant and filled with fancy ingredients, but it's enough as a simple hearty meal. He wouldn't mind eating this often, even if curry is not one of his favourites.

“Is it too spicy? I think I put in too many chili peppers.”

It's the right amount of spicy for Sakazuki. Too much chili peppers isn't a thing, he could munch down on some plain white rice with chili peppers any day. That's his favourite food. He just shakes his head silently.

It strangely feels nice to have Sakazuki eat the food that you cooked. Even if it was a leftover, he still took his time to eat your food. And granted, maybe it's because he just needed the nourishment of your dish amid the demands of his demanding responsibilities, but it makes you feel warm inside. It makes you feel… needed.

Don't get ahead of yourself now, you thought to yourself.

The coldness of the early morning's air is replaced by the warmth of his presence. It was as if he was acting like a human fireplace, providing heat for you. And it wasn't only his body that was hot, your cheeks are hot too. Sitting next to him even in comfortable silence makes you nervous and disoriented. Just what the hell is he doing to you?

And he wonders what you are doing to him, too.

Finally finished with your food, you set it aside on a nearby table to let yourself rest from chewing food for a long time. You take the time to admire the bonsai trees in front of you.

“That one is beautiful,” you suddenly say, pointing to the one with drooping branches and long yellowish twigs hanging down almost to the ground.

“Weeping willow. I brought it from my birthplace, North Blue.”

“What about that one? Looks similar to the one you have on your desk, with more branches it seems.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “White pine. A beautiful one, that is.”

He hasn't noticed you glancing at him with the corner of his mouth raised. It's always known that this man has an intimidating (scary even) appearance but for a moment there he just looks like someone loving his hobby. Under that tough interior is still a human with flaws.

Even if it's just a while, it might have gotten rid of his exhaustion from working. It was clear that he has not been getting enough sleep, nor nutrients, for that matter.

And he's quite handsome too when he smiles.

“Is staring at someone something you enjoy, Vice Admiral?” he asks, looking away from admiring the white pine to look at you. His lips pressed back into a frown but there is no animosity behind it. His shoulders are relaxed and the creases on his face aren't so deep anymore.

In an instant, you shift your gaze, evading any connection with his eyes. “No, sorry. I was just looking at the… moon.”

The moon was conveniently placed right behind him, and your excuse could've passed off as legit. Except that he already knows you're lying, and that was just a sad attempt at deceiving him. You're making a fool out of yourself again, how many times are you going to stare at him? Until you burn holes in his head? You're pretty sure it would just reform again with his magma anyway.

She's…

Was the research department correct about the information they had obtained about you? When reports came back saying you have Kradvine in your blood, he has never heard of that race. More reports in and it's stated it might have been extinct, with you as the last documented Kradvine alive. He read more about the race and apparently their frontal lobes are underdeveloped in some parts.

Apathy is one of their main traits and you don't seem to have it, or at least not as strong as a full Kradvine.

There have also been some cases where Kradvines will mask their traits and blend in with normal humans; that's partly why inter-breeding happens a lot within the race. And that fact makes him wonder if you are displaying your true emotions or if it was all a facade to blend in amongst other people—especially when you're the last one alive.

He reaches out his arm and towards your face. You freeze in place, not knowing what he was doing. His hand approaches you closer and closer and—

It brushes against your cheek and continues to the back of your head. He pulls his hand back and you could see Zoom just slithering around on his palm.

“What? When did he—” You cut yourself off to look back, only to realize he was crawling towards your lunchbox.

“It seems that it's not only one of us that enjoyed your dish.” He puts Zoom on the ground near the bonsai pots, letting him crawl off and go to the plants instead.

It was just a simple compliment but you already feel heated up. There's something in his words, something that poisons you and gets you addicted. His praises felt like sunshine kissing your skin. “You liked it-?” you asked, almost stumbling on your words.

He goes back to a straightened stance. “It's filling. Thank you, Vice Admiral…”

Damn this guy. If it was anyone else saying those words, you would've been completely fine. But something about him makes it so different, it's flattering you badly. And it's not good. You know this would make those feelings grow stronger, the way the plants in this garden do. The only difference is yours grows much faster than them. If those feelings worked like a plant, you would have grabbed the nearest shear and cut them off.

Easier said than done, because now you don't know if you have the guts to actually do that if it really was possible for that to happen, to get rid of so easily.

He looked at the analog clock hung on the wall, and it was already showing 2AM. “It's best if we both go to sleep now. Otherwise you'll end up sicker.” He moves one hand behind his head and another gripping the visor of his cap, fixing it so that it wouldn't look too uneven although he knows he will take it off later anyway.

Just as he finished his sentence, a long yawn escaped your mouth. He's right, you still have to recover from this wound. Getting stabbed clean right through won't be healed so quickly. “You're right,” you shortly agreed.

You turn to collect the lunchboxes, you'll just wash them tomorrow. You're too tired to stand any longer, much less clean anything right now.

“Good night, Vice Admiral. And get some rest, I mean it.”

“Good night, Fleet Admiral-han.” Your voice was low, almost coming out as a whisper.

He lets out a deep breath. It sounded too familiar and he hates that. All he wants is to forget it. It wasn't real and there is no need to dwell on it for so long.

How much longer do you plan on resisting me?

And he'll be damned; that dream, especially you, remains indelibly etched in his memory. It was too vivid for his liking, and his body can still remember every single touch even though none of it actually happened. So fake, so imaginary, and yet his mind doesn't allow him to move on.

With a curt nod of his head, he walks off to return to his office and you, to the barracks.

Notes:

1. I was trying to make it seem like he can't resist the reader and instead he just became submissive as hell. Welp! Can't say I'm complaining.

Chapter 16: XV ; I HATE THAT I MADE YOU THE ENEMY

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Another Life by Motionless In White.

“What did you say?”

The bouquet of flowers felt fragile within your tightening grasp, each delicate petal seemingly at the mercy of your fingers' involuntary grip. Your eyes remain fixed on the nervous Chore Boy, his uniform revealing subtle signs of tension as he anxiously tugged on its hem, adding to the palpable unease in the room. He is uncomfortable in the presence of the mad Vice Admiral and you are uncomfortable are the words he just uttered.

“I, um, a weird guy insisted I deliver this to you,” he stammers, avoiding direct eye contact. Each fleeting glance of your eyes seems to send his gaze to the floor, as if the floor holds an interesting pattern when both of you know it was just a plain white concrete floor. It's something you see every day.

You look around the perimeter. The both of you are isolated from the rest at least, so no one would bear witness to this awkward moment. Someone might spread more rumours about you. The savage Vice Admiral has a secret lover? How scandalous. You shudder at the thought. The last thing you need is another rumour surfacing, it's already tiring enough to have people look at you with those judging eyes these days. And you are definitely tired of having to pretend you don't notice them.

You let out a sigh. You did not expect to be given quite the romantic gift today, by a mysterious person no less. Is it a stalker? A secret admirer? Both of those don't sound plausible. “Okay. Thanks, and you can go.” The Chore Boy didn't waste a single time before immediately turning around and speed walked out of your sight.

And now you are left alone with this bouquet of flowers. It smells nice, so that's one thing you appreciate—

Did one of the petals just move?

On closer inspection, one of the flowers doesn't look natural at all. It was clear that it's handmade from a bunch of papers, and one of the petals seems to move in a direction, like it was being pulled by some sort of magnet.

“Don’t tell me…” You pull the fake petal out from its stem and sure enough, it was a Vivre Card disguised as regular paper. When you turn it around, a small note was written with black ink.

I hope it's to your liking, (Y/N).

You recognize the handwriting. Neat and almost cursive, you have seen this handwriting before. You know exactly who sent you this, and it’s obvious this wasn't a romantic gesture from a secret admirer. There is no reason to make a fake flower out of a Vivre Card other than to make you follow to where it's pulled to.

Well, you cannot refuse even if you wanted to. You walk to your office and put the bouquet on your desk. You pull out the Vivre Card and turn around to leave the office.

 

---

 

Quite the busy place Cain had chosen, this island seems to be some sort of haven for criminals. You see one every time you turn your head, and at this point you just assume that there are no civilians at all. It might have been a foolish move to come here alone—being a Marine with a myriad amount of bounty on your head. Sooner or later, trouble will follow.

The Vivre Card hasn't stopped moving. In addition to the busy environment, it's really hard to point him out especially when he's always dressed in dark clothes. One thing that makes him stand out from the rest is his height, but that would probably be challenging too since there are quite a lot of abnormally tall people in the crowd with you.

How long has it been? Your eyes already feel like shutting off from looking around too much. This damn paper is still moving, and you wish it would just pull you to him immediately. It keeps inching towards a certain direction and before you know it, you have already escaped the crowd and arrived at an old outdoor cafe. That familiar back facing you as he sits on a chair with his legs stretched out on the table, a cup of steaming tea next to his feet. A black fedora rests on his face. One wrong move and everything would be messy.

“Took you long enough, (Y/N).” You haven't even begun approaching Cain and he had already noticed your presence. And it felt like it's been forever since you last met with him.

He finally pulls the fedora off his face and puts his legs down, sitting properly this time. He offered you the empty seat in front of him, and you went to sit. Everything about him looked the same as before. Well, except for his tired eyes, maybe. The eyebags are heavier than before.

“You couldn't have chosen a better place to meet than here?” You ask, already feeling uncomfortable. Not just because you are the only Marine in this area, but also being one of the few women on the Island. You know the extent of your power and are very well capable of defending yourself against them but that fear of getting overpowered is still present in your head.

And at times like this, you don't mind blacking out again and wake up to see all of them half-dead laid out on the ground.

He sips on his tea. “You aren't wearing your coat, you'll be fine. Even if you did, you'll be fine too. That's how you've always been, and always will be.” His stare after makes you uneasy. He just had to bring up your shameful past. But in the end, it was still you, and you can never change history.

“What do you want, Cain? I shouldn't even be here, you know that. If the Fleet Admiral knows this…”

Strands of hair fall on his face, blocking some of his sight. He uses his hand to slick them back neatly. “You’re a SWORD. I'm sure some protocol breaches don't bother him.” He didn't attempt to lower his voice to a whisper, SWORD aren't massively known in the public. It was still relatively new, and the whole point of it was a Marine unit of resigned soldiers that still operated on the Marine’s behalf.

“That wasn't made public,” you remarked.

The corner of his lips raised, he lets out a low chuckle. “I have my ways, little girl. That sort of information ain't the hardest to obtain.”

It does feel weird to be called “little girl” when you are way past the little age but it doesn't necessarily feel wrong. Every time you look at Cain, it feels like being transported back to when you were a child. You would always look at him with admiration, and little you didn't even realize those feelings yet. Seeing his aged face now hurts your heart. His eyes lost their shine. Time moves forward and you still feel stuck in the past. You can't help but wonder how things could've been if it didn't end up this way.

“It’s good you decided to come. I wanted to—”

“I’m sorry, Cain.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, almost frowning. Maybe he had expected everything else except a sudden apology coming out of your mouth. The air seemed to crackle with the unanticipated admission, his eyes held a hint of surprise as the weight of your apology hung in the air.

The silence continued for a while before he decided to speak up. “What’s this about?” he finally asked.

You look down to the table, you couldn't bear to look at his eyes. “I’m sorry, for everything. It was my fault you turned out like this, I have no one else to blame but me.” Your hands balled into fists, shaking from how hard you were clenching them. “Just stop… this. Whatever this is.”

A scoff escapes him. “Are you pleading for your life? I didn't think you'd stoop that low, (Y/N). It's quite pathetic, really.”

“No… I'll take responsibility for everything, so kill me if that brings you peace. Don't drag anyone else into this anymore. If my death can put a stop to your hatred, then I'll gladly take that opportunity. Just don't harm anyone else.”

His eyes narrow in disdain. He didn't want to kill you just yet, not right now when it's so pathetically easy to do so. There's still so much he has to do.

“Very noble of you to be willing to sacrifice yourself, but I'm afraid it's not your time yet. There's a lot on my plate and REIGNs are on the very top of my priorities at the moment. I need those bastards gone before you.” His face grimaced at the thought of those drug addicts. All he wanted to do is lace the REIGNs with deadly poison and kill them off immediately—but death is mercy for the likes of them. They need to slowly suffer the consequences. They need to be tormented.

Anger and dissatisfaction slowly builds up inside of you. You just wanted to get this whole thing over with, even at the cost of your life. If it could bring back the man you've always looked up to when you were a child, you would do it in a heartbeat.

“Why? Why do you have to wait? Get rid of me now and just stop the manufacturing of REIGNs altogether. Problem solved, right? No more me and no more REIGNs addicted people.”

“Just stop, (Y/N).”

You finally stand up, slamming your palms on the table. The cup of tea jumped to the edge, almost knocking it off. “Why, Cain? You have the chance to kill me now and yet you still refuse to. Do you like wasting your time? Just fucking tell me why!”

“Because I don't have it in me to actually kill you.” His voice was calm, quiet even. He grabs the cup and places it back on the center of the table, his fingers tenderly grabbing onto the handle. And it was the first time in years seeing that look in his eyes again, the sadness of his gaze is so familiar. It was how he used to look at you when you were a child.

Raising your voice to him definitely caused unwanted attention. Fortunately, all of them went back to doing their business immediately. It is an island full of criminals after all, some shoutings here and there are frequently heard. They had grown used to it.

Well, except for one.

A man dressed in dirty ragged clothes came up to you, his hand holding a crumpled piece of paper. His other hand firmly grasped a worn out flintlock. “Hey, I know I've seen that pretty face of yours somewhere! Yer a Marine, aren't ya?” He holds out the poster and sure enough, it was a bounty poster of your face with the 400 million Berries reward.

“...Get the hell away from me,” you warned.

“No can do! Say what, how about ya entertain me today and I’ll keep my mouth shut. Wouldn't want all these fellas here hunting you, eh? Or would ya rather I have yer bounty instea—”

It was a clean shot to his forehead. His body immediately falls to the ground with a loud thump. You look over at Cain, his arm stretched out and a revolver in his hand with smoke coming out of the muzzle.

“Cain—!” you yelled, looking back at the criminal's lifeless body. Your bounty poster fell next to him. You hesitated before quickly reaching over and grabbing the poster before anyone else sees it and recognizes you.

Cain blows out the smoke before putting the revolver down on the table next to the cup. “I don't like people interrupting my conversation. And he was one of REIGN addicts anyway, so that's one less scum to deal with,” he finishes his reasoning by sipping on the tea until the cup is fully empty.

“I could've dealt with him myself,” you protested while ripping off your poster until it's unreadable.

He puts the cup back on the table. “I know, it's faster this way.”

“Hey! You couldn't have offed someone somewhere else!?” A loud voice boomed from the bar, the owner of the cafe. His face contorts into disbelief and frustration. He was more annoyed by the blood and corpse that drive away potential customers rather than the fact that someone just got murdered in plain sight.

“Sorry, boss. Will a million Berries compensate for the trouble?” Cain asks, waving a stack of money binded in the air.

“Oh, well, that’s… Alright. Just… Try not to do it again.”

Cain then throws the money to the owner, to which he gladly accepts. He turns around and calls for someone to clean up the body. In under 5 minutes, the body was gone and only blood splatters remained stained on the ground.

“Back to what I was saying, I couldn't kill you now because part of me still cares about you. And no matter how hard I try to get rid of it, it never seems to go away. I can't bear to see you… dead. It makes me feel sick.” For the first time ever, he couldn't make eye contact. It was as if he was… ashamed.

“You are still that beasty little kid in my eyes. You would follow me everywhere and depend on me like I'm the only one in the world. Like I'm your world. And for a moment, I felt the same.”

He looked like how you remembered him. The greatest man in the world, and little you had sworn to be by his side forever. Even if you couldn't rewind time to fix the conflict, then you wished to have met him in a different circumstance. Maybe then everything wouldn't have spiraled into this situation.

Maybe then you would have someone you can call “father”.

He smiles, embarrassed of his own words. “It’s funny. Both of us are stuck in the past, trying to fix something that couldn't be salvaged.” He lets out a sigh. “While you're off fighting for justice, I guess I am doing that too. A justice I've always longed for, but always seems to be out of my reach.”

“I wish things were different,” you quietly said.

“Me too,” he responded.

In the end, both of you are two sides of the same coin. Both fighting for what is right to them and both dwell on the past. And though you didn't want to say it out loud, you still cared for him too. He was the one to raise you and shaped you the way you are today. If he never set foot on that island that day, you would have ended up way worse. In a way, the only reason you get to have some sort of humanity in you was all thanks to Cain.

Once again you wish to go back in time and undo it all. You want nothing more than to make him happy, just like a child would.

Things don't always go your way and you have no choice but to accept it. You can't change history so the least you could try to do is change the future. A different outcome where everything would end well, not only you but also him. Especially him. You wonder if that's still possible. There is still so much you want to say to him, but you couldn't make out the words. You couldn't think clearly whenever you're in his presence.

“I can't stay any longer, Cain,” you said, standing up from your seat and pushing it close to the table. You have to go back soon or else they will list you as AWOL again like before.

“Control it, (Y/N).”

“What?”

He looks at you. “Control that state. Leave it untamed and it will only bring casualties. And you might hurt more than criminals.”

You were stunned. That incident wasn't made public too, the Fleet Admiral somehow managed to keep it concealed from the news outlet. And if it did, more people would have recognized you when you stepped on this island. Now it remains a rumour among the Marines, but only a select few knew it was real.

“I… I don't know how,” you admitted.

“Then train yourself. Just like I did. That's why you've never hurt me when you used to enter that state when you were younger. And it happened again, didn't it? You got everyone except one, your friend Jay.”

Was it really something that can be controlled? You didn't think it was possible since you wouldn't be conscious at all and aren't capable of thinking literally anything. Or perhaps it was your subconscious that is aware that some people shouldn't be harmed…

“...I’ll try.”

He pulls his legs up and puts them on the table while grabbing his fedora and putting it to cover his face. “Go. I'm sure that mutt is eagerly waiting for your return.”

Heat immediately rises up to your cheeks as you stare at him in shock. “What the fuck are you—”

“I’m joking, (Y/N). You best leave now or you'll get in trouble again.”

Not even bothering to say goodbye, you walk away as quick as you could. Your eyebrows furrowed, your nose scrunched up. The heat in your cheeks is still present and strong. Your heart couldn't stop beating so fast and you're not sure if it's from the speed walking or the flustered feeling in your heart.

You needed to get out of here as soon as possible. You go back to your ship and sail back to New Marineford. And the entire time, you were only thinking of that conversation and the Fleet Admiral too. Though the latter made you even more incapable of staying still on your ship. Maybe you're worried about what he would think about you leaving again but mostly questions on why did Cain say that. He couldn't have possibly known… You've never really talked about it to anyone, not even Jay.

Damn that old man, you thought to yourself. And damn yourself for reacting that way.

Notes:

1. First of all, I'm so incredibly sorry for the late update!! I literally had no idea what to write at all lolll but here it is

2. I'll try to get the next chapter ready before Nov 30th because I'm going to Japan for a week and I'm not sure if I can find a decent internet there. And if I don't, sorry again!!

3. Yes I'm kinda regretting putting a deadline for myself but I didn't want this fic to get bad irregular updates

4. Thank you for your support though 🥹 It's the one thing that motivates me to continue the story

Chapter 17: XVI ; THE SAME DRAMA IN A DIFFERENT DISGUISE

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from The Negative One by Slipknot.

You wonder if that meeting had changed Cain's mind about you somehow. Even underneath that hateful exterior, he is battling his own thoughts. The words that had come out his mouth were entirely contradictory to the way his eyes soften at the sight of you. Those blazing red eyes looked so sorrowful, as if he was mourning what once was

The noisiness of the cafeteria didn't find a way to snap you out of your thoughts. You stare blankly at the food served in front of you, occasionally stabbing it with your fork but never really bothered to actually eat it.

You don't know what to think of Cain. You are mad, angry at the fact that he would take innocent lives in order to pursue his goals—which was hypocrisy at its finest, because you are working for a man that does exactly that as well. Simultaneously, you also feel some sort of sympathy for him. He never really went into details but it was plain as day that Cain went through a lot to end up this way.

But are they really innocent? He's targeting drug addicts, specifically those that are currently using REIGNs but was it worth killing them? This kind of people aren't seen in a positive light by any means but doesn't it seem too overboard to be so hellbent on killing all of them?

The only way to justify his hatred is that one of them had killed his family during a burglary, all because he desperately wanted money to buy more REIGNs. Anyone would be angry if the same situation happens to them.

But Cain's hatred multiplied tenfold after finding out you are the child of the people that created REIGNs in the first place. Although you don't blame him, you couldn't sit still and let his plans commence. Because you didn't want to die by his hands? No, not quite. You didn't want to see the man that raised you change into a bigger monster than you are. He does not deserve that kind of ending.

A fork suddenly stabs one of your broccolis, making you look at the person. “(Y/N)-san, if you keep spacing out like that then I might as well finish your food for you. It looks so good too,” Jay asserts, his hand slowly pulling your plate closer to him.

You don't have an appetite anyway. “Go ahead, it's better than going to waste.” You push the remainder of your food to Jay. You looked around and saw that most of the Vice Admirals had left already.

“You seem to be deep in thoughts lately. Are you still thinking about… that?” Jay asks, slowly chewing on his food.

You can never live that down. Even though you were unconscious the entire time it happened, that photograph shown to you is still vivid in your head. You felt scared by your own murderous eyes and the immense amount of blood splattered everywhere in that green scenery.

Noticing your silence, he just nodded in response. “I never got the chance to thank you. You know, for saving me. Despite what they all say, I never see you that way. Never will. If it wasn't for you, I would've probably ended up in a permanent coma, or maybe even dead.” His voice turns low, not wanting anyone else to hear the conversation. There are enough ears as it is, he doesn't want to add gasoline to the already rampaging fire. “Thank you. I owe you a lot,” he continues, giving you a small smile.

You respond with a slight nod, not wanting to accept his thanks. Because frankly, he is thanking you for massacring them. And while you are well aware of his intentions, you could never shake off that guilty feeling plaguing your heart.

“I met with Cain earlier,” you suddenly say, breaking your silence.

The shock in his eyes was subtle, but he quickly regained his composure. “Who’s… that?” he asks, although there was no confusion in his voice at all. Which was odd, but you ignored it.

“The guy I sneaked off to meet before, you shot at him. His name is Cain, not Seer Vehemoth.” You recall the feeling of his bullet barely grazing your ear and the ringing that didn't stop for a while after that.

“Right. Do you… meet a lot?”

“Not really. We've only met two times, but it's never for malicious intent. I guess you could say it's only to catch up, but not as friends either. Honestly, I don't know what to make of this. The more I think about this, the more my head hurts,” you rambled on for a while, still a bit deep in your thoughts.

The cafeteria slowly gets quieter, and lunch time is coming to an end. Jay liked to talk but this time he retreated into a quiet state. The roles were reversed, and now he's the one getting lost in his own thoughts. You wonder what goes through his mind but you didn't want to intrude so you let him be in his own world.

Cain didn't explain what a REIGN does, and the only way to ask him is to follow the vivre card he had given you. But you had met earlier, you don't feel like sneaking out again. Plus, there's a faster way to obtain information about this drug, and it's right here in New Marineford. It wasn't exactly relevant to the current matters, but you want to know what it does and why it existed in the first place.

As Jay begins to stand up from his seat, you suddenly announce, “I’m going to the research department.”

Before you could turn to leave the dining table, a firm grasp wraps around your wrist. Surprised, you turn to face him.

“Be careful, (Y/N)-san.” His eyes are intense, and you don't remember ever seeing Jay look that serious—even when he was on the brink of death that day. You start to get worried, that ominous warning didn't help either. If he was trying to make you paranoid, then it's kind of working.

“Of course I will,” you simply responded. You didn't want to ask him what the warning is for.

 

---

 

The research department is busy to say the least. Lots of people scurrying from here to there and a shit ton of paperwork piling up on their desks that never seem to run out; not anytime soon, that is. You start to wonder if you should have come another time when they're less frantic with their work but that might take forever. Still, you walk to the counter to talk to the girl there. Despite the busy environment, she is calm and even turned on the radio with calm jazz music playing from it.

Honestly, it was quite cinematic.

Just as she lifts up her head to look at you, her eyes briefly widen for a moment before going back to normal. She lets out a fake cough to conceal her surprise, but you noticed it anyway. “Vice Admiral (Y/N), can I help you?” she asks, forcing a smile.

Just your presence alone is making her nervous, her hands fidgeting with her fountain pen underneath the counter.

“Yes, I was wondering if you could dig up some information about a drug called REIGN. It's being distributed by a criminal organization called HYSTERIA 101…” you pause, looking behind her to observe the busy environment. “How long would that take?”

She glances at her coworkers before turning back to you. “Well, given your rank, I could push your request ahead of others. Is it urgent?” Without waiting for your response, she already started going through some files stored behind her on an old shelf, having to tiptoe to reach for the files at the very top.

“Not that urgent compared to, well, everything else, I suppose. Take your time, I don't want to rush you or anything—”

Just then, she turns around with a neatly organized file in her hands. Judging from the thinness of the folder, it seems that HYSTERIA 101 is not very big in the Underworld unlike the Cross Guild. And it also explains why Cain has a decent amount of bounty on his head and somehow still lower than yours. But then again, he is the one that offered the reward for catching you. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy that cares too much about what he's worth to the World Government anyway.

You watch silently as she goes through the content of the folder, the word HYSTERIA 101 printed boldly on the front page and the spine. “I’ve heard about REIGN before. This organization has two subdivisions, one is focused on illegal weapons and the other a drug cartel. And this drug cartel only distributes one kind of drug, REIGN, as you know it. They started off only selling it to residents of this now extinct island called Mono Rock, eventually expanding their market to as it is today. And—” She quickly conceals her mouth, interrupting her own speech.

“And what?” you question, puzzled by the abrupt pause.

The girl’s face reddens in embarrassment, slowly putting her hand down. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to ramble,” she apologizes, the corner of her lips contort downwards.

You cross your arms, leaning closer to the counter. “It’s fine. Go on, there's a lot I don't know about this stuff.”

Taking a deep breath, she continues on. “And there was a reason why they only focused on Mono Rock. Mono Rock island had this weird phenomenon where light wavelengths become abnormal, causing the island to be void of colour. You know how newspapers are printed in black and white? That was the condition of that island. The lack of colour combined with the poor quality of livelihood resulted in a depressing environment.”

It does feel weird to have another person tell the tale of your homeland. When you finally left that island, you could still remember seeing the soft blue sky and the yellow orb hiding behind the clouds. The massive ocean was intimidating, especially when you were alone on a small rowboat with nowhere else to head to. The sudden change in colour left your eyes hurting for days. That might be the reason why you still insist on wearing monochrome outfits to this day.

“When the residents tried REIGN for the first time, it caused a drastic wave of emotions. Stated verbatim that it made their life more colourful. It's a hallucinatory drug and often spoken of in a positive way. It increased their overall mood and altered the chemicals in the brain to make them literally view life in vibrant colours. But of course, this effect doesn't last forever and it was—and still is—mainly sold to those that suffers from mental illnesses and gets them terribly addicted.”

As she flips through the pages, you could see some photographs of those high on REIGN and pictures of the drug, a white powder packed in a small ziplock bag. A blurry photo of Cain also slipped in there, although his name is written as Seer Vehemoth. Some photos of illegal weapons are also included but it is mainly filled with information regarding REIGN.

“Ever since Mono Rock ceased to exist, they began selling it worldwide. That is until there was a sudden change of the leader, who is now this man under the alias Seer Vehemoth—we’re not entirely sure of his real identity yet. The World Government had tried to purchase some using undercover agents but he adamantly refused to sell it to them, with the reasoning ‘only loyal buyers allowed’. So at this point in time, it's practically impossible to obtain REIGN unless you have bought them way before Vehemoth took over.”

It makes total sense. Cain didn't want to bring in more customers and having more drug addicts in this world so he puts his primary focus on long-term buyers. And his plan is to slowly kill them all on the inside, a slick plan that is… and cruel. Taking into consideration of what REIGN did to his family, it was justifiable to an extend.

She hands over the file to you. “How come he's not captured yet?” you ask, skimming over the content.

“For one, he's constantly moving and it's also really hard to trace him. And I guess the Marines don't consider him that big of a threat since he's only smuggling weapons and distributing a drug that is impossible for regular civilians to obtain.” She points to the files at the shelf behind her, “There are worse criminals out there, no one would want to seek out a small fish.”

You scoff at her words. Cain is no small fish by any means, he is not infamously known all over the world only because he wanted to lay low.

“I appreciate the help,” you express, handing the folder to her.

All the nervousness in her had already left, and now her posture is calm and relaxed - much like the jazz she has playing on her radio. “No problem, Vice Admiral.” A small smile drawn on her lips, the subtle fear in her eyes are not present anymore. “You’re… nicer than they say.”

Real sweet of her to say that. After having to tolerate wary looks thrown at you at every steps you take, it feels good to hear someone uttering something good about you for once. It felt like forever since that last happened. You give her a slight smile, reassuring her for a bit.

A sudden jolt runs through your veins, a result of your observation haki activated due to a dangerous presence. Peering out the window to your left, you see a large commotion at the entrance to the Marine Headquarters. A bunch of soldiers surrounding what seems like a singular woman with a bunch of space between them and her.

Who was brave enough to cause a scene at a place like this? You quickly utter a goodbye to the girl behind the counter and leave the department immediately. Considering the height and the dreaded flight of stairs to the ground floor, you opt to simply entirely morph into water and let yourself fall from the tall building. At least this could save some energy.

 

---

 

“Where the fuck is that bitch? Bring her out!” the woman yells, gripping onto the straps of her backpack tightly. Her voice is positively dripping with malice but since her hands are empty, the soldiers could not do much but try to reason with her. It would've been an entirely different story if she was armed.

“Lady, do you not know where you are right now? Stop it or we'll have to arrest you!” A man with spiky black beard stands in front of the other lower ranking soldiers. He holds his hand out, stopping her from advancing into the headquarters.

“I don’t care! If you don't drag her ass over here, I swear I'm gonna—”

Her words cut short when she sees a puddle of water coming out of a window on the upper floor and speedily moving towards the ground. It slithers around the space between the soldiers’ shoes and comes to an abrupt stop in between her and Commodore Daigin. She watches silently as the puddle of water slowly forms into a humanoid figure and her eyes almost bulge out of the sockets once you fully transform back to normal. Water drips down the side of your cheeks.

“You—!” she spat, her hands letting go of her backpack straps and assuming a defensive posture.

You look over your shoulder, seeing Daigin shocked as well by your sudden entrance. “I’ll take it from here, Commodore.”

As you turn your head back to face her, you could see the hate and fury in her eyes. The desire to kill you so strong that you are certain she would risk the consequences just to get rid of you. “Vice Admiral (Y/N), I've waited so long to finally see that ugly mug of yours,” she snarls. “You fucking savage.”

Your eyes twitch at the name she called you. “Why don't you calm down and tell me what's all this about? Do you even realize where you are right now?” Your voice is full of suspicion, but you could guess where this is coming from.

Oh, please don't be about that.

She stares at you for a moment, looking like she is seconds away from beheading you—not like that is possible with a regular blade anyway. “You are a vile creature,” she finally says. “Did you enjoy doing that massacre? I bet it gave you the thrill, taking away dozens of lives like that. Like their lives hold no value at all.”

The soldiers gasp at her speech, which only confirmed the rumours they were hearing. They had heard about a Vice Admiral eradicating an entire pirate crew without mercy, but not many were sure if it actually happened or not. Though the higher ranks knew the truth already.

Shame creeps in. Without permission, your mind begins to recall the lifeless eyes staring back at you. The smell of blood hits your nostrils again, making your throat dry with extreme regret. But you couldn't let them see your vulnerability, so you suck it up and put on a stoic face. “No. I’m sorry, but that was out of my control. I never wanted to…”

“What fucking bullshit! You don't seriously expect me to believe that lie, do you?” It was quick, but she pulls out two flintlocks and threw her empty backpack to the ground. “Just because you're a Marine, you think you could easily take lives like that. They were my friends! Even if they were pirates, their lives are not lower than yours. If you think you have the moral high ground, you're sorely mistaken.”

Just as she finishes her monologue, she fires multiple times while aimed at you and you just barely dodged it. Upon firing, the cadets immediately surround her and pull away her flintlocks. She falls to the ground with her hands restrained behind her back. It takes three people to hold her in place; one holding her head down, one using his hands to restrain her wrists and another holding down her legs to prevent her from thrashing around.

A sharp sting emanates from your cheek, and a realization follows as you notice blood beginning to trickle down. Seastone bullets. Well, it's really no surprise when that crew had seastone weapons in their possession.

Her glare shoots right through you, even with her head being held in place. “Fucking savage. You don't deserve to live.” Her voice is low and muffled against the ground but you could still hear her clear as day.

Everything goes so fast, you didn't know what to think. Your breathing gets heavier as your heart starts pumping at an irregular speed. She’s right. Why are they restraining her? She's right, I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have…

A hand jerks on your shoulder from behind and it takes you back to reality. You feel the familiar heat radiating from the palm.

“Get inside, Vice Admiral.” You could see a glimpse of his eyes underneath the visor of his cap. It was known that this man is perpetually devoid of contentment and joy, yet a fiercer intensity glowed in his eyes. Even though his voice came out calm and collected, you could still feel the anger boiling in his words.

Behind him is Inspector General Sengoku and Vice Admiral Tsuru, beckoning you to the entrance of New Marineford. And while Sengoku has been shown to be more laid-back after retiring from the Fleet Admiral position, he seems quite serious this time - a contrast to his attire, which looked like he was ready to rest at a beach anytime soon.

“We have a lot to talk about, (Y/N),” Sengoku states, offering you rice crackers with a dead serious face.

Tsuru slaps his hand away, “Be serious, you fool. Come in, (Y/N). They'll take care of her.”

She struts inside first and you silently follow her from behind. Sengoku takes one last glance at Sakazuki before following close behind you.

Notes:

1. AHHH SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE

2. Instead of coming up with ideas on how to continue this story, I went and write one shots instead. I need to get my priorities straight!!!

3. Also I don't think "Research Department" exists in the canon. Maybe it does exist under a different name, but I couldn't be bothered to properly do a research because I'm tired of looking at the One Piece wiki again and again.

4. Japan was fun though, I brought my Gashapon Sakazuki with me everywhere I go. I think he enjoyed the roller coasters.

Chapter 18: XVII ; BEHIND BLUE EYES

Notes:

Chapter title is a song from The Who, though I only listen to Limp Bizkit's cover of it.

The air in the meeting room is suffocating; only to you, that is. Bridled with absolute shame and guilt, there's nothing you could do except staying silent in your seat. You don't remember the chairs ever being this uncomfortable before. The room isn't crowded, only filled with a few Marines that outrank you and two guards on each side of the door. Your gaze remains fixed on the table, yet the palpable sense of their eyes watching you persists.

“How did no one notice she was carrying weapons in her bag?” Sengoku questions before stuffing his mouth with a rice cracker.

Tsuru folds her arms close to her chest, getting irritated by the constant cracking noises next to her. “Apparently she told the ones on duty at the docks that she was a journalist. They had assumed the weight in her bag was due to a camera in there.” She shakes her head in disappointment. “How she managed to convince them to not check the content of her bag is beyond me.”

That putrid smell from the smoke of a cigarette hits your noise. “Seems like those guys are gonna be in a whole lotta trouble. I wouldn't be too surprised if the docks are already flowing with magma! Rahahaha!!”

The door creaks open, and you instinctively raise your head. In walks Sakazuki, and in that instant, your eyes collide. That familiar feeling in your stomach returns and you quickly avert your eyes to somewhere else.

He goes to walk to the desk placed right at the center of the room and sits on the chair. He takes one glance at you before looking at Aramaki, who is sitting on his chair with his legs on the table. “Put that cigarette out, Ryokugyu,” he orders with a stern tone. The air in the room tightens as his gaze intensifies, emphasizing the gravity of his command.

Sengoku and Tsuru share a confused yet intrigued look, curious by his odd command. “What? I mean, okay. Fine.” Aramaki hesitates for a moment but eventually puts it out and disposes of it on the ashtray.

“I never pegged you for someone who would be concerned about smoking, Sakazuki. Change of heart?” Sengoku raises the question lingering unspoken among those present in the room.

Is it because…?

“That’s irrelevant. We have more pressing matters at hand.” He adjusts his cap, inwardly pondering the same question.

You shuffle uncomfortably in your seat, already wanting the meeting to come to an end. There are just too many things running around in your mind, nothing is coherent. Being here is making it even worse.

“That woman is currently being brought to the interrogation room and will later be put into a holding cell. She'll be dealt with accordingly. We're fortunate that it happened quick enough that no reporters managed to catch wind of it.”

The haunting recollection remains: the piercing glare she fixed upon you, vivid in your memory. They were filled with rage, hatred, and grief; reminding you of how you took away those precious to her. Though labeled as pirates, in the end, they remain human. Even those with a tarnished reputation are mourned once they die.

Will I be mourned too?

“This happened because of that incident in your mission. And now that we get the chance to gather here in this room, this is the right time to discuss why exactly it happened in the first place.” Tsuru looks at you. “Go on, (Y/N).”

All eyes are now on you, even the guards by the door. You let out a shaky breath as you try to collect your thoughts. “It’s something I can't control since I was a child. It occurs when I am overwhelmed with anger, knocking me out and basically making me extremely aggressive, all while I am unconscious.”

You recall the moment before you slip into that state, feeling every inch of your body bridled with rage after seeing Jay helpless against their attacks. “It happens a lot in my childhood. And for years I thought I had finally learned to get rid of it, that is until recently.”

“Is there a name for this condition?” Sengoku asks.

“It’s not a condition,” Sakazuki answered before you could. “It’s genetic, something that runs in her blood, and only one race has this state of unconscious aggressiveness: Kradvine. There are no other known Kradvines in the world, it's almost completely extinct.”

“The result of this state is quite… brutal. We're all no strangers to blood but from the pictures, it was extreme. It's fortunate that Vice Admiral Jay was left untouched but I wonder if the same could be said if more Marines arrived while you're still in that state.” Tsuru’s mind conjures up images of newly recruited Marines all laying on the ground with you at the center. The imagination makes her uneasy. “Would they be spared? Or are you unable to differentiate allies from foes?”

Evident in her expression are profound concerns, a reflection of her worry for the inevitable casualties stemming from the state's predicament. You don't know how to respond to her question, because you don't have the answer either. Perhaps it was just pure luck that you managed to leave Jay, the only other Marine present at that time, unscathed.

Aramaki briefly glances at you before looking away after feeling a set of eyes glaring at him. “You sure you can't control it?” he asks, avoiding your eyes. As if someone will kill him just for looking at you. Fuckin’ hell, Sakazuki-san. I get it already.

“I’m not sure. As a child, I had someone that would help me control it just enough so that I wouldn't make a mess. Looking back, he was just much stronger than me so my strength couldn't overpower him.” Cain did tell you to control it like he did, but you're not sure if that is even possible. “Even if it was doable, I don't even know where to start.”

Sengoku lets out a sigh, “We still have to find a way. If it's left as it is, a devastating disaster could occur. And when that happens, the Marines as well as the World Government cannot turn a blind eye to that.” He looks down, closing his eyes. “If not incarcerated, I fear the worst outcome might happen—that would be an execution. The world will remember you as a mass murderer.”

You're not even sure which would be a better ending for you: having your name erased from history or labeled as a ruthless murderer until the end of time. This isn't something you thought you would ever have to contemplate. You had initially settled to live a quiet life and die with only a few people to mourn you. Perhaps enlisting in the Marines was a huge irreversible mistake. Had you known it would be this complicated, you would've rejected Jay’s offer that day…

“She has already officially resigned from the organization. Should the aggressive state ever result in collateral damage, it will only be disavowed. It wouldn't overly tarnish our reputation and she will still be able to operate as a SWORD member.” Locked in a gaze with his eyes, you discover a depth that commands your attention, making it impossible to turn away. “Of course, such an incident will not happen. I won't let it happen.”

It sounded like a promise.

“Well, easier said than done. We would still have to find a way to tame that state and use it to our advantage. This could be highly useful when it comes to missions involving civilian rescue or encounters with powerful enemies.” Sengoku adjusts his round glasses that have slid down from the bridge of his nose. “Although, it should only be used as a last resort in order to prevent further damage.”

Sakazuki crosses his arms, huffing at the older man's words. “A good pirate is a dead pirate. If there's one thing that is good about that state is lessening the amount of pirates in this forsaken world. It's doing us a favour at least.” You shudder at the quote, recalling the lifeless eyes staring back at you that day. “Some sacrifices have to be made in order to carry out absolute justice.”

And that's a hill he is willing to die on, but the same couldn't be said for you. Even if there is a longing for violence and bloodshed buried deep inside of you, taking away someone's life is not something that you want to do. That simultaneous feeling of enjoyment and guilt parading in your heart is sickening.

Silence becomes your response, not agreeing with his ironclad principles but doesn't want to outright say it. It's quite clear that he doesn't appreciate disagreement and you are not one to challenge that.

“Sakazuki-san, we're done interrogating the intruder. She has been placed in a holding cell,” a voice comes from the Den Den Mushi sitting on his desk.

“Fleet Admiral-han, I wanted to ask you about something…” you quickly say, earning yet another curious look from everyone else in the meeting room.

Tsuru stands up, straightening the creases that had formed on her coat. “I suppose we're done here, given that the woman is now taken into our custody,” she glances around the room before looking at both of you. “You need some privacy, I assume?”

“Yes. I don't need an audience for our discussion.”

It wouldn't be the first time both of you are alone in a room together, but the same familiar feelings return in your stomach. You bite your lip, trying your hardest to maintain a straight face. Not that it worked, because Sengoku, Tsuru, as well as Aramaki noticed the change in your facial expression.

Aramaki raises both his eyebrows, clearly amused by your behaviour. Though, he is careful not to show it to Sakazuki. That might get him in even more trouble than the time he let Straw Hat Luffy escape from Wano. “Aye, sir,” he cooes, leaving the room first before Sakazuki points out the teasing tone.

Just as everyone leaves the meeting room, the guards included, you stand up from your seat and walk over to his desk and stand right in front of him. Your heart is starting to pick up its pace, it might as well crack your rib cage. Slow breaths, (Y/N). Don't act like a damn fool.

“Out with it then, Vice Admiral,” he says, giving you a hard stare after noticing your hesitation.

“About that woman, I want to go and talk to her. If you would let me…”

“Do you feel sympathy for her?” he suddenly asks, not granting his permission just yet. “Even when she had called you names and gave you an injury from a seastone bullet.”

Your fingers lightly trace the wound you had received, and it had closed already. The small trickle of blood had dried, letting you feel its hardened texture. “Yes, well, I've had worse injuries. This is pretty minor. I don't care that she hurt me, I completely understand where she's coming from—I don't blame her one bit.” You let your hand fall to your side again, this time clenching it as a way to express your troubled mind. “I deserved it, and even more than that.”

His expression clearly conveys absolute displease in response to your sentiment. “I do not tolerate my soldier speaking so lowly of herself. Chin up, Vice Admiral. Get rid of that mindset.”

His soldier.

“...yes. My apologies.” You had that mindset for as long as you can remember, and if it was as easy as snapping your fingers then you would have gotten rid of it a long time ago. Considering the circumstances, it's challenging to find any shred of positivity to grasp onto. “And… would it be possible to drop her charges?”

“You’re suggesting I should pardon her crimes?”

“I mean, I do. It wasn't a serious injury to begin with. Wouldn't it be up to me to decide since I was the only one that was attacked?” You aren't sure yourself if this is enough to convince him. But if it requires you to beg on your knees and your head on the floor, then you would gladly throw away your pride and do exactly that.

His arms unfold, resting his hands on the desk as he looks at you in pure disbelief. “We punish criminals, Vice Admiral. Regardless of its scale, it falls within our jurisdiction to ensure that all criminals face consequences for their evil actions.” He waves his hand, further emphasizing his point. “If we ever become lenient to these scums, the Marines would not last long. Had it happened to me, I would've made sure she wouldn't see the light of day ever again.”

Cain had taught you a trick when you were younger. When a person adamantly refuses to listen, catch them off guard. You never understood why that would ever be necessary or if it will even work.

“Please, Fleet Admiral-han!” you desperately plead, your hands moving fast to capture his hand in your palms. Your fingers digged disrespectfully into his skin. And for a second there, you feel a raise of temperature in his hand but you don't want to let go despite the burning sensation. “I won't ask for this again. Just this once, please? And I'll take any punishments you'll give me for pulling this stunt.”

“Fuck…” he grumbles quietly, the curse slipping out beyond his control. His shoulders tense at the contact, utterly shocked at your audacity. The things people do when they're desperate…

Under normal circumstances, he would have shoved those hands away and engulfed you in his magma before you could even think. Furniture be damned or the consequences that would come for fatally wounding his own subordinate. That would be the most logical thing to do, that's just the kind of man he is. Or was.

His breath subtly hitches, revealing an internal response. His mind is screaming at him to pull his hand away and show you just how disrespectful of a stunt that is but he could only freeze in his seat. Even with both your hands wrapped around just one of his hands, it wasn't enough to completely cover it. The difference in size is too great. Pull. Away. You goddamned poor excuse of a Fleet Admiral!

Just what the hell happened to his pride as a man?

“Fine, I hear you. Just…” His eyes lingered on your hands for longer than he liked. “Let go.”

You waste no time to immediately release his hand, to which he quickly pulls it closer to himself. And just then, the realization hits you like a truck, creating a flush all the way to your cheeks. “Oh, shit, I-I’m sorry. I don't know what got over me. I don't know why I did that. Holy shit.” Your apology hangs in the air, tension lingering as you grapple with the aftermath of an impulsive moment.

“I see you've gotten bolder,” he simply comments, clearing his throat in an attempt to calm down his own beating heart. “Do as you like. I'm sure none of my words will reach you anyway.”

A smile breaks across your face. At the very least, that insane risk was worth it. “Thank you. I won't be long,” you assure him, in case he thinks you are going to try and let her escape under watchful eyes. That did cross your mind at one point, but you don't want to find out the consequences that will follow.

You leave as quickly as you could, taking the stairs to descend underground. The lingering sensation of the heat from his hand remains on yours as well as your head.

Sakazuki stares at his hand, the one you had held. Biting his lip, he uses that hand to cup his face. Sweat starts to trickle down the sides of his temple. Since when did his own heat bother him? “Goddamn it, Vice Admiral. You are one troublesome woman...!!” 

 

---

 

The underground holding cell is grim compared to the floors on top of it. Guards are lined up along the dark walls, their hands holding a naginata. As you walk past the cells, your eyes carefully scan for a familiar face. You can't help but notice just how miserable the environment is. The prisoners’ hands are chained to ensure they wouldn't try to escape, and they're thinner than the people you have seen.

Soon you see her, looking even more defeated than before. She sits quietly against the wall, staring at the dirty floor. You approach her cell, looking at her through the bars.

“Here to rub salt on my wound? Go ahead,” she weakly says, not bothering to lift her head up.

You look at the guard standing next to her cell. “Let me go in,” you command, earning a surprised look from him.

“Vice Admiral, I'm not sure if that's the best idea…”

“Are you afraid I'll form a truce with her and let her escape from here?” you ask, your eyebrows tightening. Before he could respond to your question, you asked again. “Tell me, is that naginata made out of seastone?”

Dumbfounded, he nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. If that happens, then stab me as hard as you could. Now open the door.”

Confronted by the determination in your expression, he has no choice but to give up and obey. Retrieving the keys, he sifts through them, searching for the right one to unlock her cell. Once located, he deftly inserts it into the keyhole, smoothly swinging the door open for you to enter.

You step in, walking to stand close in front of her but still far enough to maintain a distance so that she wouldn't feel threatened. Her head lifts up, meeting your eyes as you look down at her. Her jaw clenches, irritated by your presence. “What? You want to kill me instead?”

“What’s your name?” you ask, ignoring her question.

“...Hilda.”

You nod in acknowledgement before getting on your knees and bowing to the point your head touches the floor. You cringe at the feeling of dirt on your forehead but you don't budge.

“Vice Admiral!?” the guard calls out from outside the cell.

“The fuck, have you lost your mind!?” she yells, pulling on her chains but they couldn't reach you.

You grit your teeth, your hands gripping the dirty floor. “Hilda, I want to offer you my sincerest apology for what I have done. What happened that day was completely out of my control, and I never intended on taking their lives away. I’m not proud of myself, that shouldn't have happened at all; it's not what I stand for. It's my fault and I'm so sorry.”

The guard rushes in, pulling onto your shoulders. “Lift your head, Vice Admiral! You mustn't do this! Sakazuki-san wasn't happy when Fujitora did the same thing,” he urges, despite your stubbornness to stay in that position.

“I know an apology is not enough, so I've discussed with the Fleet Admiral to drop your charges and let you walk free again. And if that's still not sufficient, I can—”

“That’s enough! I-I can't believe you, seriously!” She looks at the guard, prompting him to pull harder.

“Money. I'll give you money. Just tell me how much you need as compensation, and I'll do my best to give you all of it.”

She rests her head against the wall, letting out a sigh. “Just stop. No matter how much you give me, money won't bring them back. Get up, (Y/N),” she implores, her eyes reflecting a mixture of disappointment and emptiness.

You slowly lift your head up, shifting into a sitting position. The guard quickly lets go of your shoulders and takes a step back. “Tell me what I can do to ease your pain. I've caused you enough grief and the least I could do is fix it. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I don't make an effort to help you.” You look down at your hands, noticing that they are trembling. “These hands are supposed to help people, not hurt them.”

Hilda doesn't say anything, letting your words simmer in her head. She takes a deep breath before speaking again, “I know they aren't the best people around, they're pirates after all. They rob and defy the laws of the world.” Despite her best attempt to hold back, a sorrowful tear rolls down her cheek. “But I grew up with them. They never wanted to hurt me like they would others. Even the villagers are fond of them.”

You listen in silence, letting her pour her heart out.

“It’s hypocritical, really. They're criminals but I still think of them as good people. It's hard to hate them when they made sure I had a comfortable life.” She laughs as more of her tears flow out, feeling ridiculous about herself. “Am I right for being angry?”

“What do you want me to do?” you ask again.

She looks at you, utterly defeated. “There’s only one thing you can do. And that is to never show yourself or reach out to me ever again. Let me forget about this, it's the best closure I can have.” Not able to look at your eyes anymore, she hands her head low once again. “It’s the best closure for you, too.”

You stand up, wiping away the dust on your forehead. Turning around to the door, you leave her cell. “Do you forgive me, Hilda-han?” you ask, not turning to face her.

“Maybe, in the future,” she shortly answers.

You hear the jingling of the keys, signifying the guard closing the door to her cell. Looking down at the floor, you give her one last glance. “Thank you.”

The guard does a salute to you, and you nod in response.

“Not a word about what happened to Fleet Admiral-han, got it?” you order, making a shush gesture with your finger.

It was as if you had read his mind. Orders are orders, and he simply nodded, although reluctant. “...yes, ma’am.”

Upon hearing his agreement, you hasten back to the ground floor. In a day or two, she will regain her freedom—enough solace for now. Emerging into the stairwell's light, you squint, readjusting to the surroundings. The returning noise feels like a comforting embrace, and the once stifling air now dissipates.

Notes:

1. This chapter is a bit longer than usual, take it as an apology for messing up the chapter release schedule 🥲

2. You know, I wanted to make sure I'm writing Aramaki properly so I went and read the manga chapters involving him. I was done with my research after 5 minutes. We need more Aramaki screentime damn!!

Chapter 19: XVIII ; BRIGHT ARE THE STARS THAT SHINE

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from And I Love Her by The Beatles. Although, I actually prefer to listen to Kurt Cobain's cover of the song and had that one in my mind.

Last night was tiring, to say the least. You could not sleep at all despite every single nerve in your body begging to be put to rest. The ceiling wasn't interesting. It never changed colour. Yet, you couldn't peel your eyes off of it. You laid down on your bed, your arms folded behind your head to act as extra pillows. The only sounds that reached your ears were intermittent seagull cries echoing in the sky and the rhythmic collision of ocean waves. And of course, the neverending thoughts in your mind.

You stroll down the hallway, intending to head to your own office. Passing by cadets on morning duty, they bow to you as a sign of respect before immediately returning to their posts.

As you round the corner, a familiar figure strides towards the opposite of your direction. In one hand, he cradles a neat stack of papers, while the other is casually tucked into his pocket. The sunglasses that typically shield his eyes now find a perch atop his head, revealing a glimpse of the eyes that you never knew were green much like his hair.

“Ryokugyu-han, good morning,” you greet him, slightly bowing your head.

“Oh, mornin’,” He greets back with a nod, casting you a momentary curious glance before resuming his stride. His footsteps echoing through the long hallway due to his extremely tall height. A thought crosses his mind and he immediately halts, turning around to see you walking away but not too far. “Actually, come here, (Y/N).”

You look back at him, wondering what his intentions are. Nonetheless, you comply with his order as your superior and turn back to walk towards him. Now that you are standing directly in front of him, his height is so damn overwhelming.

“Yes?” you shortly ask.

He points at the papers in his hand with his eyes, “This thing's heavy and my hand is seriously starting to give out. Help me out, won't you?” he says, protruding his hand towards you.

You gaze silently at him before claiming half of the papers for yourself. "Aren't you more than capable of carrying this? With your devil fruit powers, I thought it would make things much easier," you remark, curious about his request. His eyes meet yours, before a subtle smile creeps onto his face.

“Aw, come on, don't be like that. We're both devil fruit users, aren't we? Help a fellow Logia out. My office isn’t very far, you can drop it off and be on your merry way.”

Strange man this is. As an Admiral, you're 100% sure he is much more stronger than you that it wouldn't even be a fair comparison. Surely a stack of papers—that he was holding with one hand, no less—wouldn’t take that much energy out of him. Strange as that is, you're in no place to deny his request. You didn't have anything to do anyway, not at this time of early in the morning.

So you walk next to him. It's the first time you have to walk faster to catch up with the other's walking speed. Why does he have to be so tall? And here you thought you are tall enough as it is. He's even taller than Sakazuki.

You cringe, flustered by your own thoughts that seem to involuntarily gravitate towards him. Wondering why your mind seems compelled to orbit around his presence, you attempt to redirect your focus to the task at hand - still grappling with the unexpected allure of his presence in your thoughts.

Seeing that you aren't one to start conversations, he decided to do it first. “You know, I didn't expect you would go and put your head on the ground like that yesterday.”

Stunned, you come to an abrupt stop, and Aramaki mirrors your pause with an arched eyebrow, a hint of amusement by your reaction. "How did you...?" you blurt out, panic creeping into your voice. In the lingering silence that follows, his inscrutable expression hints at a knowledge that leaves you uneasy.

“Surprised? I followed you, far enough that you wouldn't notice my presence. I had expected you were going to apologize but to actually bow with your head on the ground… hell, that's certainly a bold move.” He takes out his hand from his pants pocket and rubs his head, “Issho would've liked your courage. Too bad he's banned from setting foot in any Marine bases.”

You're unsure of what compels you, but you remove your hand from the stack of papers you were holding and reach out, tugging gently on Aramaki's coat. He tenses, caught off guard by your unexpected move. "Are... are you going to tell him?" you stutter as you ask him. Your eyes pleading for answers, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

He releases a defeated sigh, his gaze momentarily dropping to the ground before reconnecting with yours. “Hey, don't give me that look. I'm weak to a pleading woman's eyes.” he admits, slipping his hand back into his pocket. “No, I won't tell him, so ease up a bit.”

Just like that, you let out a sigh of relief. Your hand leaves his coat and back to the stack of papers your other hand was holding by its own. Seeing the tension in your shoulders dissipates, and sensing the unspoken understanding, he resumes walking, and you fall into step beside him.

You keep walking alongside him and soon you reach his office. You wait outside as he goes inside to put the papers on his desk. You find that his office smells pleasing, the floral scent is particularly strong but not overly powering to the point it hurts your nostrils. It reminds you so much of the garden, you wonder what Zoom is doing at the moment. Probably sleeping or eating, that's all he does anyway. Perhaps the Fleet Admiral is tending to his bonsai, too.

“Oh, damn it, quit thinking about him for once,” you mutter out loud, leaning your head against the wall. Your hand cups your face, silently wishing he would leave your mind.

“Who’s ‘him’?” Aramaki suddenly asks, emerging from his office and closing the door behind him.

You hand drops from your face to your mouth in an attempt to shut yourself up, though you realize it's already too late. Shaking your head dismissively, you murmur, "...no one.” Good thing you weren't stupid enough to actually say his name out loud. Not that you have before, you don't recall ever calling him by his name.

“Right, Sakazuki-san is not an easy man to forget, huh?”

“What?” you immediately retorted, your disbelief echoing in your own ears.

He doesn't repeat, instead opting to say something else that is completely unrelated. “I’m bored out of my mind, walk with me.” He turns to walk, leaving you dumbfounded and wondering if you had misheard him.

Snapping out of your trance, you quickly walk to catch up to him. He doesn't glance back at you, only walking forward with both his hands in his pocket. Your heartbeat quickens by the second as you try to conjure up the words to ask him—but nothing comes up. He managed to render you speechless.

“H-hold on, I wasn't thinking about the Fleet Admiral. I don't know what makes you think that.” He finally looks at you, letting out an amused huff. Realizing he's not entirely convinced, you try harder, “I was thinking about this guy I'm trying to capture. He's been such a pain in the ass these days that he's all I think about.”

Sorry, Cain. Did I have to stoop so low and use him as a lie?

“Juuust kidding.” He isn't even trying to hide the teasing in his voice.

The heat in your cheeks is getting even more unbearable. “Seriously, Ryokugyu-han, I wasn't…”

He lets out a hearty laugh, and you could only stare at him. Clearly, he's enjoying this way too much. “Ryokugyu sounds too formal! As much as I like being an Admiral with that fancy name, it feels too serious.” He gives you a crooked smile, “Aramaki. You can call me that, (Y/N).”

Your lips press into a thin line, this man is starting to give you a headache. “Then, Aramaki-han, I wasn’t thinking about…”

“Sakazuki-san. I hear you,” he says. “You’re not very good at lying, you know that? You say that and you can't even stop your face from becoming so red. And frankly, I don't blame you one bit if you do like him in that way. He's a cool guy, after all. He's damn lucky such a beautiful woman is interested in him.”

Fucking hell, he's not actually serious, is he? Were you actually that obvious about your feelings? You didn't even want to acknowledge it in the first place, but having your own feelings told to you by another person is just insane. You know full well that if you admit it to yourself, your life will go up in flames. The last thing you need is to fall for someone in this time of your life. And perhaps, you don't want to disappoint yourself if those feelings aren't reciprocated.

“And hey, you're pretty lucky you got me. If you ever need some flowers to give to him, just let me know and…” He pulls out his hand and you watch as his fingers slowly transform into branches and form into a bunch of colourful flowers. He detaches them and holds them together with a rope of vine. “See! Ain't that neat? A bouquet of flowers and you don't even have to cough up any money.”

He extends the bouquet toward you, and a moment of hesitation lingers before you accept it into your grasp. There is no denying that it's beautiful though, and he just so happened to create a singular pink rose too. Just like the one you have in your office and the one on Sakazuki’s left buttonhole of his suit.

“Vice Admiral.”

Both of you turn your head and Aramaki feels his blood run cold once he realizes who it is. The timing literally could not have been any worse.

As Sakazuki steps closer, he takes out the cigar in his mouth and grips it in his fist, disintegrating it in his magma. His eye twitches when he sees the bouquet of flowers in your hands and the flush in your cheeks. His jaw clenches once his glaring eyes land on the panicking Aramaki, who had created a considerable distance between you and him.

“I thought I made it very clear to you that this is no place for romance, Ryokugyu.” His eyes narrow, trying to contain his anger from exploding. He's not sure why he is deeply disturbed beyond professional reason, but it's so early in the morning and he doesn't want to raise his voice already. “My patience only stretches so far. If you’re so eager to bed women, you'd be better off at a brothel.”

Quite the misunderstanding this is, you thought. Aramaki is taking too much time to think of an answer but he couldn't find the words. “You’ve got it wrong, Fleet Admiral-han. I was just asking if he can create flowers and he did exactly that.”

Aramaki glances at you, the flush in your cheeks are already gone and you have put on a straight face. Look at you! So you are good at lying after all.

Sakazuki doesn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on you and the flowers cradled in your hands. He observes how you delicately hold them, a testament to your effort in preserving their fragility amidst the strength that could easily overpower them. The vibrant hues of the flowers clash with your monochrome attire, yet paradoxically, you radiate a vivid vibrancy, a burst of color against the backdrop of your subdued clothing.

She looks…

“Leave us. I need to talk to her,” he commands, quick enough to not let the words in his mind continue.

“You got it, boss,” Aramaki weakly replies before walking off to another direction. He's not sure if Sakazuki buys that lie, but surely you can come up with something that won't make it seem like he was hitting on you. “Save me, (Y/N)!” he whispers to himself, although targeted to you. You didn't hear him.

After Aramaki disappears from your sight, you look back at the man in front of you. He doesn't look too happy. His focus remains solely on the flowers, and you could almost discern his hand gradually tightening into a clenched fist.

“He didn't ask me out…” you say, still attempting to solve the misunderstanding. “Even if he did, I—”

“It’s none of my business,” he cuts you off. “He’s free to try and romance every single female Marine he likes, even you. I prefer it not happening while working. This is not a place to get distracted with personal affairs, the world doesn't wait for those that slack off…”

“I’m not interested in him,” you quickly blurt out, and he is clearly taken back by your sudden honesty. Your cheeks are now hot once again, you couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore. That little speech from Aramaki earlier forced you to finally acknowledge it, the feelings you tried so hard to bury deep in your heart and hope it will dissolve soon. “Because I…”

…already have my eyes on someone.

Those words were left unsaid. You don't dare to admit it out loud, not yet, at least. Not when that someone is standing right in front of you at the moment.

Somehow, his shoulders aren't filled with tension anymore. And the anger is now fading away, along with one other feeling. Wonderful, so Aramaki wasn't trying to hit on another woman. That's good, that's exactly why he feels oddly relieved. “I didn't need to know that,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. “Even if you were, it's not my job to care about every single Marine’s love life.”

“Right,” you shortly respond, not sure what to say. It’s good he doesn't care, maybe you could let those feelings blossom and he doesn't have to hear a single thing about it.

Now that it's settled, he can finally move on from whatever that was. Aramaki should be grateful to you for successfully avoiding the situation from blowing out of proportion. “That woman from yesterday, she’s already released. She won't be charged for her crimes, just like you requested.”

Hilda. Even when your encounter ended in a bittersweet ending, you hope that she could find it in her to forgive you in the future - even if it will take years to do so. “I see. Thank you, Fleet Admiral-han. I appreciate your help.” Although your way of asking wasn't conventional and was totally disrespectful, you're thankful that he didn't fire you right away. You were desperate and you were willing to do anything to achieve your goal, and it paid off.

“That will be the last of it, you hear? Don't be so tolerating of criminals. It's not what we stand for.” He frowns, regretting agreeing to let a criminal go unpunished. If only you had not taken his hand that day… maybe then he wouldn't have faltered to a simple touch.

But it wasn't simple. You squeezed his hand, and that somehow caused all his coherent thoughts to disappear in the blink of an eye.

He doesn't remember anyone ever holding his hand like that. So firm… yet so gentle.

You offer him an apologetic smile. "Yes, of course. I'll give you my word," you assure him, your eyes locked with his, conveying a sincerity that transcends the spoken promise. “As a token of gratitude, I think you should have this.” You extend your arms, the flowers just barely touching his chest.

Reluctant at first, he eventually takes the bouquet with one hand. The tips of his fingers brushing against yours. “Giving me leftovers?” he asks.

You acknowledge the seriousness in his question, though a light laugh slips out. “No, I don't think I am someone that can take care of that many plants at once. You, on the other hand, are more adept at this kind of thing,” you admit, gesturing toward the flowers in his hand.

Recalling the instance when you inadvertently forgot about the rose you had planted in the garden, he nods in agreement. "I suppose you're right," he concedes. A few more flowers can only enhance the garden's vibrancy. And the fact that it's a gift makes it all the more special.

The flowers are beautiful, but it doesn't compare to…

“That is all, then. I'd better get back to work, and you should, too,” he says, straightening his cap. Just what the hell is going on with his mind? Why is it saying things he doesn't want to? Good thing he has the self control to keep them as thoughts. If he had expressed them verbally, that would've compromised his reputation as a strict leader. He does not have time for useless feelings that would only serve as distraction.

He walks away before you could respond. You look down at your hands, somehow still able to feel the way his fingers brushed against yours. You frown at yourself, feeling your heartbeat speeding up again. At this point, you’re tempted to ask Jay if this is a sign of Arrhythmia. Is it possible for Arrhythmia to occur only when you're in a specific person's presence? He would have laughed in your face, no doubt.

Of course not, dumbass. You know damn well it's not a heart problem, it's far more deadly than that. You wish it would actually be that. Because then you will finally have the chance to cure it and live on normally, like you always have before.

But what is the cure for infatuation?

You don't have the answer. Perhaps clarity will come with time. Meanwhile, you endure the plague of this overwhelming feeling, hoping it will gradually dissipate. Your only solace lies in the belief that, like a passing storm, this infatuation will eventually fade away, leaving you with a clearer sky.

Notes:

1. First of all, HAPPY NEW YEAR !!! In my time zone, at least.

2. I will be busy in January with exams and I'm not sure if I could keep up with the release schedule I had set for myself 😭 Even this chapter is 3 days late

3. Nonetheless, I will try to be consistent with the updates even though this year will be VERY busy since its my last year of school.

4. I have an idea for another fic but I don't know if I'm capable of doing 2 fics at once. But I really want to! It's a ridiculous idea but imagine how cool it would be when it started off as crack and eventually turning serious in the end.

5. I ramble a lot, don't I. Well! Congratulations to our girl (Y/N) for finally acknowledging her feelings. May good things find their way to her.

6. Heavy on "may", because I plan to make shit hits the fan soon.

Chapter 20: XIX ; DREAD AND THE FUGITIVE MIND

Notes:

Chapter title is a song by Megadeth.

“Hey, if it isn't my favourite Marine!”

Jay wrinkles his nose in disdain at the name, irritation evident in his demeanor. Without uttering a word in response, he casually tosses a sack filled with money to the man. The clinking of coins echoes as the sack lands in the man's hands, a silent testament to Jay's distaste.

The man clicks his tongue, not taking kindly to the silent treatment. “Right. Or should I say, my favourite spy. You know, if it wasn't for Cain, you would've totally fooled me.” He loosens the rope on the sack and goes to check if he received the amount he was promised. “Yeah, all good. Go ahead and take your guy,” he says, stepping aside to Jay a view of a heavily beaten up pirate with his hands cuffed behind his back. His mouth drips a worrying amount of blood.

As Jay steps closer to grab the pirate, the man extends his arm to stop him. Jay pauses before slowly looking at him.

“You’re quite lucky, Jay. If it wasn't for the fact that you're actually a spy from the Underworld and that I tolerate your existence, you would be the one sitting here with his hands behind his back right now.” He shrugs. “You would make a pretty good bounty, but of course Cain found a way to not have yours issued by the Cross Guild.”

“You’re unusually chatty today, Kozari. I'd appreciate it if you shut up and let me do my work,” Jay snaps, pushing his arm away. He seizes the pirate by the collar, hauling him to his feet. He pulls the pirate to stand in front of him and his hand grips the shoulder, applying a good amount of force on his grasp to prevent him from escaping. “And learn to keep that mouth of yours shut. If word gets out, it's my neck on the line.”

A derisive chuckle escapes Kozari’s lips. “Oh, don't worry your little head off. I’m not that stupid to spill your secret to a pirate you're bringing to Marine Headquarters.” His hand grips the sides of the pirate’s cheeks, causing his mouth to open. Jay cringes at the sight. “See? No tongue. Doubt they would let him hold a pen anyway. If you're still on the fence about this, perhaps cutting off both of his hands will—”

“There's no need for that, you've done enough.” Kozari lets out a disappointed huff before letting go of his cheeks roughly.

A squad of Marines arrives shortly, and Jay hands over the pirate to their custody. He trails behind them, only to be interrupted once more by Kozari.

“There’s one more thing I have to ask, Jay,” Kozari says, prompting Jay to come to a sudden stop.

Letting out a subtle sigh, he turns around. “What?” he asks, not wanting to stay any longer. “Make it quick. I don't have all day.”

Kozari arches his eyebrow at the other man, curious of his unusually impatient nature today. He ignores it. “The time has come for me to execute my plan, and I could really use your help in this. We both know I absolutely despise the Marine and the World Government to my very core. And so I've created a plan to bring them down slowly and having a spy on my side would greatly benefit me.”

“That’s not a question,” Jay quickly retorts.

“Your impatience is getting on my nerves, doctor. But I'll let it slide for now.” He crosses his arms. “Now that the Marines have bounties on their heads, I am planning on getting rid of them one by one. That means I have to always know their whereabouts and who else is capable of helping me gain that intel other than you, a Marine officer?”

“Get to the point already.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll tell you straight up that I want the fucking Fleet Admiral dead. He prided himself on his immense power and soldiers so what better way to take him down by striking him exactly where it hurts?” Kozari’s eyebrows tighten, his jaw clenching harder than it needs to. “Strip him of all he has, and what does that make him? A pitiful, forlorn creature. As he watches his hard-earned achievements crumble, I'll claim his head – perhaps even offer it as a feast for the pigs.”

Jay narrows his eyes at the man seething in anger before him. He is not the first person to express anger towards the man at the top and certainly wouldn't be the last to do so. And so far, no one has ever come close to even hurting him, let alone scratch.

“Sure, good luck with that.” Jay turns back around, tired of entertaining him with his attention any longer.

“I'm proposing an alliance, Jay. We can take him down together and you won't have to listen to his orders anymore,” he suggests. “Think about it, Jay. Aren't you tired of having a tyrannical leader like him boss you around? Just provide me with the necessary information and I’ll find a way to hurt his ego—perhaps even target someone he holds so close to his heart.”

Jay grits his teeth. “My loyalty belongs to Cain, and no one else. Take him down for all I care, but don't involve me in your delusional plans.” He turns his head slightly, glancing at Kozari behind him. “Your conviction is admirable. Though, don't let it get to your head. He is far from a run-of-the-mill bum that you get to defeat in a single move.”

Kozari lets out a chuckle, “I dared to hope for something different from you, yet it seems you're just like the rest. Just like many others, you think so highly of that murderer. Fools, all of you.”

Jay turns forward once more, shaking his head. “Believe what you will, but your personal grudge with Akainu has nothing to do with me. And just for the record, being a spy doesn't mean I'll allow you to drag an innocent person into your mess. So keep that resentment of yours where it belongs or it won't be just him that becomes a concern for you.”

“Awfully defensive, doctor. Is it because it's your job as a Marine to protect the innocent or is it that you personally know that person?” He grins. “And maybe… you care about them, too.”

Jay responds with silence. Not even uttering a farewell like he always does, he departs, heading back to his ship. Kozari observes his departure, refraining from offering a farewell of his own. Disappointment plagues his mind, but soon he lets it go. Although he failed to convince him to join his side, he plans to go through with his revenge despite the major setback.

As the Marine battleship gradually departs from the docks, a pang of sorrow grips his heart at the sight of the organization's symbol on the sails. No matter how frequently he encounters it, he is instantly transported back to that painful day. The lingering scent of smoke and soot serves as a constant reminder. To go back to your home only to find it destroyed and reduced to nothing but ashes.

“Akainu,” Kozari whispers. He clenches his chest, where his heart rests. His resentment grows stronger each time that man crosses his mind. Just how heartless could he be? Why did they have to die in such a horrific way?

He doesn't remember their faces anymore.

“Absolute Justice… What a joke.”

 

---

 

“A meeting. I wonder what it's about,” you mumble to yourself as you navigate through the corridors to make your way to the meeting room.

Your gaze subtly surveys the surroundings, absorbing the hushed conversations and fleeting expressions, seeking clues to the impending discussions. The Marines have never been able to sit still, especially not in this great era of piracy, but these recent days appear even more tumultuous than usual. Their faces reflect a restlessness and agitation that seems ceaseless.

Approaching the infirmary, just as you're about to walk past, the door smoothly slides open, revealing Jay stepping out. He deviates from his usual doctor attire, a departure from the customary attire he dons in the infirmary, signaling his journey elsewhere.

His eyes dart towards you, noticing your approaching steps. “(Y/N)-san, where are you off to?” he asks, closing the door to the infirmary behind him.

“I’ve been called for a meeting and was just on my way there. What about you?” As you speak, you quickly check your watch, making sure you have plenty of time for a small talk.

Jay raises his eyebrows, “Huh. I'm headed to a meeting too. The infirmary has been bustling lately, with a surge in injured cadets. While injuries are par for the course in this line of work, there's an unusual level of distress among them,” he observes. “I presume the meeting will touch on this. Brannew-san reached out to you too, I’m guessing?”

Sharing his observation, you noted the frequency of encountering heavily bandaged cadets had become unignorable. The common occurrence piqued your curiosity. Your mind races with questions but you didn't want to pry and possibly open up an emotional wound.

“He did, yeah,” you shortly answer. “In that case, let's head there together.”

Walking alongside Jay to the meeting room, the sight of bandaged cadets continued to punctuate the hallway. A few limped past, their injuries evident, while others with more severe wounds were conveyed on gurneys. The somber atmosphere heightened, leaving you with an unsettling anticipation as you pondered the magnitude of the situation that awaited discussion. Deep concern etched across Jay's face mirrored the gravity of the circumstances, intensifying the air of tension that surrounded you.

Jay could only speculate on the origin of this grim situation. As he observes another bandaged cadet passing by, a quiet sigh escapes him. While he attributed the casualties to Cross Guild’s Marine hunting system, the surge in injuries puzzled him. If it was indeed the work of bounty hunters, these soldiers wouldn't have returned barely alive. Yet, daily reports still included deaths, rendering the return of these soldiers inexplicable.

The mystery deepens, leaving Jay with a furrowed brow and a sense of foreboding. Someone is toying with the soldiers’ morale. In that case, he has a clear guess of the culprit.

The door to the meeting room creaks open. The room is already filled with a bunch of other Marine officers, with Brannew standing in the center. Noticing you and Jay’s presence, he gestures to both of you to sit down.

At the forefront, Aramaki lounges in his seat, legs casually propped up on the table, presenting a distinct contrast to the more formal postures of everyone else in the room.

“Now that everyone has arrived, I will jump straight into the purpose of this meeting,” Brannew speaks up. “As all of you had witnessed these past few days, there has been a surge of injured soldiers returning from their missions. It was initially speculated that this was a result of the Cross Guild issuing bounties on Marines, but seeing as these soldiers returned, claiming bounties is not the perpetrator's main priority.” He whips out a paper, reading from it. “When interrogated, it was revealed that all of this is a result of a single man.”

Jay clenches his fists under the table. His jaw tightens.

“Then, what's the purpose of sending the soldiers back when they were in the position of handing them over to the Cross Guild?” someone asks.

"It wasn't the lives of the soldiers themselves that were the target," Brannew responded, a brief pause hanging in the air. After a deep breath, he continued, "The perpetrator aimed to only inflict harm on the soldiers, redirecting the threat towards their families' lives instead.”

As Brannew reveals this unsettling information, a collective hush settles over the room, each person grappling with the gravity of the situation and the implications of such a calculated and malevolent attack.

“Unfortunately, this has resulted in deaths of civilians, mainly consisting of the soldiers’ families.” Brannew shakes his head, disturbed by the situation at hand. “Not only were they left with physical wounds, their mental state was tortured as well. Requests for resignation are consistently rising and morale is at all times low. This attack has caused irreparable damage to the Marine.”

“But isn't information regarding Marines’ family life heavily classified from the public? How is it possible he got a hold of that?”

“I did not want to assume, but the only logical explanation is that there is someone among us providing sensitive information to him. As of right now, an investigation is being done to stop further information from being leaked. There will be an increase of security for the database. In the meantime, our other solution is to arrest this criminal immediately.” Brannew shuffles through the paperwork he has put on the table and pulls out a couple sheets from the pile.

Your lips form a tight line as you glance at Jay seated beside you. His eyebrows knit together, and the typically relaxed expression on his face vanishes, replaced by a noticeable tension.

“That’s terrible. I don't know how someone can sleep at night after committing those atrocities,” you mutter to Jay.

The haunting memory of unintentionally massacring an entire pirate crew already keeps you awake at night. Now, facing crimes committed with conscious thought, you ponder: did guilt and remorse ever find a place in their heart? Or was it all done absent-minded with no regard to innocent lives?

“For this mission of capturing the assailant that has been terrorizing the Marine as well as innocent civilians, it will be assigned to Ryokugyu-san and…” he pauses, reading the name on the paper twice. “Vice Admiral (Y/N).”

Jay's eyes widen, and without hesitation, he raises his hand to catch Brannew's attention. "Can I join in on the mission as well?" he asks, a hopeful tone underlying his words. Not (Y/N). Anyone but her, his unspoken plea echoes in the earnestness of his gaze.

You stare at him, shocked by the sudden request. “Jay? What are you…”

“I'm sorry, but this mission comes directly from Sakazuki-san," Brannew replies, adjusting his sunglasses. "If you persist, you might want to discuss it with him. Moreover, the current situation demands your expertise in medical aid. The infirmary is constantly flooded with heavily wounded individuals, and your assistance is crucial during these challenging times."

Jay lowers his hand, a sense of defeat evident in his posture. He harbors reservations about you being assigned to the mission, concerned for your safety in the face of extreme danger. However, a slight reassurance washes over him, knowing that having an Admiral accompany you provides at least some security if things take a turn for the worse.

Guilt tugs at Jay's heart. Would he rather have someone else undertake the mission, potentially facing imminent danger, just to ensure your safety? He gazes down at the table, grappling with the realization that his desire to protect you may have led him down a path of selfishness and willingness to sacrifice someone else for your sake.

And he knows you would never forgive him if he did that.

“So? Where do we start for the mission? What's the plan?” Aramaki asks, lifting his sunglasses to get a good look at the pictures taped to the board behind Brannew.

Brannew clears his throat before stepping back and presenting the pictures he had placed on the board. “Here, this island is where the culprit was last seen. According to the last people to encounter him, he is planning on going here, to Tribo Island. It’s a tropical island filled with trees and bushes, it's the perfect place to commit a crime far away from seeing eyes. The previous locations are similar so there is a pattern to the movements.” He points to a photograph of a village taken from a distance. “As you can see, this island is populated by civilians. The files in the database revealed there are some soldiers’ loved ones residing in Tribo.”

“Finding them will be difficult, then. A group would have been easily identifiable but a singular man is indistinguishable from the rest. Unless he goes around parading with clothes painted with blood, it seems almost impossible to detect him,” you express your thoughts. “Is there no description for the assailant except for the fact that he's a male?”

“We tried, but those that were victimized were unable to describe him in detail. The traumatic event overpowered their minds and they retreated into silence.” He gestures to the Den Den Mushi on the table. “Those that are currently out on a mission right now are attempting to take a photograph of him. Until then, we don't have an official description. As such, I cannot process his bounty without a clear image of his face.”

“Honestly, it's a good thing (Y/N) is assigned for the mission.”

You turn your head to the owner of the voice, and he just smirks back at you. “Elaborate,” you shortly say to him.

He shrugs, crossing his arms. “We all know that you can go batshit crazy and basically turn into a killing machine. If you manage to find the guy, then the mission would be wrapped up in no time. It would save us a lot of time, no?” He sticks out his thumb and slides it across his own neck, “Just do it like this, quick and simple. Justice for those that have fallen.”

“It doesn't work like that. And don't call me a killing machine.”

He groans at your response. "Why the serious face? That's exactly what you were that day, right? Lighten up, lady. I'm just saying it's a damn good thing.” With a playful smirk, he adds, "It's a remarkable gift, especially coming from a woman. The time has arrived for us to go eye for an eye, and you're the perfect candidate for that.”

The very thing that caused you nightmares and countless sleepless nights as you beg for forgiveness and redemption. The very thing that has taken lives like they were nothing. The very thing that had branded you as a killer when you were a child that didn't know any better.

"Shut your mouth. You don't know a damn thing about what you're talking about,” you warn, irritation etching into your voice.

“What was that!?” he yells, slamming his fist on the table.

"That's enough! We're here for a discussion, not to hold an arguing session." Brannew sighs, massaging his temples. "And quit resorting to violence. The objective of the mission is to capture the assailant, not engage in bloodshed. Let's be civil in order to resolve this matter without unnecessary conflict.”

“Fine, suit yourselves. But I’m not going back on my words, I said exactly what needed to be said.”

You’re not sure how this guy possesses the natural talent for pissing people off so badly because right now, the urge to choke the living daylights out of him is overwhelming. However, you resist the impulse, determined not to provide him the satisfaction of proving his point. It's enough that practically everyone perceives you as violent and merciless, a sentiment you begrudgingly acknowledge within your own heart. Tainting your reputation even more wouldn't get you anywhere.

The fax machine resting on the table beside the board springs to life, capturing everyone's attention with its distinctive sounds. Sheets of paper gradually feed into the printer, emerging on the other end. As they unveil, you catch a glimpse of a close-up photograph of a person and a cluster of text, sparking curiosity among those in the room.

Not wasting a second, Brannew immediately walks toward the fax machine to retrieve the paper copies. He takes a minute to read through the content before turning around to face those in the meeting room.

“Perfect timing. They have succeeded in obtaining a clear image as well as the necessary information of our assailant. I will proceed with his bounty shortly but take a good look at his face first,” he says, tearing off a tape and placing the photograph on the board for everyone to see.

Had it not been for the crimes he committed, you might have mistaken him for just another handsome man. He possesses a fair complexion, complemented by slicked-back silver ash hair. Deep brown eyes, adorned with heavy eyeliner, add a mysterious intensity to his gaze. Clad in a black raincoat, black cargo pants, and a pair of black leather combat boots, his attire carries a subtle but distinct air of mystery.

In the image, he sits perched on a substantial rock, gaze directed pensively to the side, a Den Den Mushi clasped in his hand. Seemingly unaware of the photographer as he talks to the other end of the line.

Aramaki grumbles, before putting on his sunglasses again. “Pretty guys ain't shit…”

“He’s been a bounty hunter for a while now, mostly capturing pirates and criminals alike. Although the Cross Guild’s Marine hunting system was announced a few days prior, it seems that he’s only recently starting to indulge in the hunt too. While his exact intentions aren't clear, this is certainly not an ordinary criminal.”

Jay glares at the image, a familiar knot of resentment tightening in his chest as he recognizes the man captured in the photograph. He hadn't anticipated the execution of the man's delusional plan so soon, prompting him to reconsider whether it was truly delusional from the start, given the severity of its impact. Perhaps he had underestimated his threat.

“The assailant’s name… is Kozari.”

Notes:

1. I'm so bad at coming up with character design so I just stole a character from another series and called it a day lol ... here is what Kozari looks like

2. Oh man that was a LONG break. Oda deserves it though but damn dude, 21 days of no chapter release almost made me lose my mind

3. I just found out Brannew is a year older than Sakazuki....... Is it Brannew that is aging well or Sakazuki aging like shit because I genuinely thought Brannew was mid 40s at most

4. Borsalino looked sooooo good in 1104 dear GOD I need him badly

Chapter 21: XX ; SOMEONE FINDS SALVATION IN EVERYONE

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Be Yourself by Audioslave.

“The assailant's name… is Kozari.”

Jay grimaces at the revelation of the name. Kozari is now set in motion, executing his revenge plan and steadily inching closer to you. As he dreaded, the impending contact between both of you looms, but he hadn't anticipated it happening this soon. Despite having an Admiral by your side, the looming possibility of things going awry remains ever-present.

 

---

 

“(Y/N)-san, I... need to talk to you," you hear Jay's voice as he closes the meeting room door behind him. The restlessness etched across his face is a rare sight for you. Sensing an unusual gravity in the air, you pull him by his sleeve to a more secluded area for privacy.

You peek behind him for anyone passing by before looking back at him. “You look pale, Jay. Tell me what's going on. You’ve never asked to join me on my mission.” you ask, folding your arms and giving him a concerned stare. “Brannew-han didn't reveal the identity of the assailant yet and I saw you tense up. That Kozari guy… you know him, don’t you?”

Jay tenses up once again and you notice.

“I was the one that had been giving him the reward for capturing criminals when he was a bounty hunter, just like us before. The last time we met, he had told me about his plan to bring down the Marine as well as the World Government,” he says.

Your eyes widen. “Why didn't you tell them about his plan? All of this could've been…”

“Prevented, I know.” He lets out a sigh, getting more frustrated at himself. “I didn't take him seriously. I've heard the same expression of resentment towards both organizations over and over again that I naively thought he wouldn't… couldn't go through with it.” Kozari’s words ring throughout his head, he should have known to not take his threats lightly. “All this just because of one guy,” he whispers.

“What?” you immediately ask. “Who are you talking about?”

Jay doesn't answer, prompting to look away instead. This piece of information is the only reason why Kozari even bothered to commit all these atrocities. Although he doesn't know why exactly he holds such a strong hatred for that man, it seems that it doesn't matter anyway when the situation has gotten this bad. And it was hugely his fault anyway for not stopping Kozari the moment he revealed his deranged plan.

“Jay,” you call his name, causing him to look at you. A hand flies to his shoulder and you don't notice yourself slowly gripping it with too much force. “I’ve been assigned to this mission. Holding back crucial information will only make things worse. Tell me who this guy is.”

The grip on his shoulder is getting unbearable. He shuts his eyes tightly for a second before finally answering. “Akainu. His goal is to destroy the Marine and the World Government but his main priority is to take down Akainu.”

It feels as though static just entered your brain.

Slowly letting go of your grip on his shoulder, your arm falls to your side. Who are you kidding? You know exactly the type of man he is. In everyone else's eyes, he's just a ruthless man that is so hellbent on pursuing justice like it was the only purpose in his entire life… and they're not wrong. That is what he is. That is what he has always been.

That is just exactly the man you have fallen for.

A sudden chuckle escapes your lips, causing a subtle shiver to run down Jay's spine. “Of course. That's really no surprise. The number of people who want him dead is too vast to tally.”

What is that, a smile? He anticipated that you wouldn't respond positively to Kozari's plan, but the reality surpasses his expectations. The way your eyebrows furrow, in stark contrast to the smile on your lips, makes it clear that your outward expression doesn't align with genuine feelings. It almost seems uncanny.

“But his plan will only end miserably. He won't succeed,” he says in an attempt to reassure you.

You notice his effort, to which you just slightly nod in acknowledgement. “I know. A fool like Kozari can only dream of ever getting close to him. He should've known that there is a huge difference in power, like an ant and a dog.” Looking off to the side, you sigh. “But I can't say I blame him. I'm sure there's a good reason for his resentment.”

There is only one thing on his mind at this moment, and that is the fact that you are taking this news way better than he thought you would.

“Though, it won't be a good move on his part.” Your gaze locks with Jay's, sending chills coursing through his body. They're different, yet sickeningly familiar. He's witnessed those eyes before during the massacre incident, where you rampaged through anyone in your path. The very eyes he saw that day, with the painful realization that he was the sole reason it happened. Now, he's witnessing it again, the only distinction being that he is not the cause of the intense gaze in your eyes this time.

“Because if he ever lay a hand on Sakazuki, I'll kill him.”

His heart skips a beat. While it's not the first time he's heard a threat from your lips, this time feels different. The atmosphere grows increasingly uncomfortable, yet you seem unaffected. Your words carry substantial weight, another painful realization sinking in that you are dead serious.

And isn't this the first time you ever uttered his name out loud?

“There you go, proving me right.”

You clench your jaw upon hearing the voice. Grateful for the self-control you acquired before joining the Marines, you manage to restrain the impulse to knock that arrogant chin of his right off. Instead of letting yourself go and assault another Marine officer, you take a deep breath.

“I proved nothing,” you firmly state, already feeling the annoyance in you building up.

“Yeah? Really sounded like a killing machine to me there. And I'm not saying it's a bad thing. There are too many wimps in the Marine that can't even hurt a single fly, much less kill someone. They care too much about some stupid morals and in the end, get no job done.” He smirks, and it just tempts you even more to wipe it clean off. “You are a valuable asset to us, you know that?”

Jay sticks his arm out, stopping him from stepping closer to you. “That’s enough out of you, Combs. Can't you see you're making her uncomfortable? Just let it go.”

“Fuck you. Do you think I enjoyed what I did in that incident? I've had way too many sleepless nights reminiscing about that day. I'm not proud of it, so there's no reason for you to be.” Combs scoff in response, finding your defensive demeanor ridiculous. “So lay off my back and get the hell out of my face.”

Combs remains silent for a while before retrieving a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. After a contemplative puff, he takes a step closer to you, nonchalantly pushing Jay's arm away. As he moves to grab Combs, you swiftly raise your hand, halting him in his tracks with a determined gesture.

He stares at you, to which you return the stare with as much intensity and animosity. “Rookies these days have no manners anymore. I know you outrank me since I am a Rear Admiral but in terms of seniority, I am above you.” He harshly pokes his finger on your shoulder. “Don’t be a goddamn sissy. Know your place, (Y/N). The only reason you're here is because of your powers. Otherwise, no one gives a shit about you.”

Although your hands are balled into fists, you know it wouldn't do you any good if they land on his face. A temporary satisfaction wouldn't compensate for the outcome. “Go to hell, asshole,” you say through gritted teeth.

“I don't appreciate your tone,” he declares, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling the content. Exhaling the smoke directly toward your face, he adds, “Respect your seniors, Vice Admiral (Y/N),” before casually walking away, leaving an air of deliberate provocation behind.

“(Y/N)!” Jay hurriedly calls out, rushing towards you.

You stand motionless, feeling as though a tumult of emotions coursing through your veins. First, Kozari is out there wreaking havoc on innocent lives. Second, he is targeting the Fleet Admiral. Third, having to deal with that insufferable Combs who wouldn't get off his high horse. This sucks, you think to yourself, every goddamn thing is pissing me off.

“Hey, are you alri—”

“Fine. Good for him for leaving fast or else I wouldn't be able to hold myself back,” you say, putting a firm edge into your tone. “I need to go and find Aramaki-han to talk about the mission. Why don't you go back and help Fishbonen?”

He frowns, seeing the dissatisfied look still present on your face. Perhaps Aramaki could help you cool off for a bit.

“There you are! Boy, I was wondering where you ran off to.”

A tall figure looms over both of you. The beautiful scent of nature quickly surrounds the air, and you know you didn't have to look for him after all.

Rubbing the nape of your neck, you release a subdued sigh. “Sorry, there was something we needed to discuss,” you explain, meeting his gaze while noticing his sunglasses perched on top of his head. “I wanted to go over the details of the mission with you, if that's alright.”

His lips stretch into a cheeky smile, “Why wouldn't it be alright? That's the reason I was searching for you in the first place.” He looks over at Jay. “Gonna have to steal her for a sec, buddy.”

“Yeah, she's all yours.” Jay puts on a somber face. “Good luck on the mission.”

Hurrying to Aramaki’s side, you begin to walk alongside him and leave Jay behind. You take a peak over your shoulder, noticing the change of expression on his face. You could tell what he was thinking about. It dawns on you that those words, spoken in the heat of the moment, may have contradicted the principles you stand for. Perhaps Combs was right about you, maybe you were the only one too blind to realize what you really are inside.

And his name... In your momentary state of anger, you unwittingly vocalized his name for the first time. While it wasn't that big of a deal technically, it held weight given that both of you had strictly adhered to referring to each other by your ranks. It seemed an unspoken rule between you, now momentarily broken.

While walking at Aramaki's side, you subtly adjust your pace to align with his. “So, where are we heading off to next? I’m sure Kozari has left Tribo Island by now,” you inquire, attempting to shift your focus back to the mission at hand.

Aramaki adjusts his sunglasses, his gaze focused on the mission details. “A reconnaissance team has been dispatched earlier. If the pretty boy decided to not change his next destination, then we should encounter him at an island not far from Tribo. It's a residential place too, so plenty of Marines’ loved ones there.”

Thinking back to your conversation with Jay, you contemplate whether to divulge Kozari's ultimate objective. Your initial intention was to shut him up for good and let his revenge plan die with him, but do you really want to kill another person again?

“Jay told me earlier that Kozari is planning to dismantle the World Government and the Marine but there is someone that fueled his hatred even further.”

He glances at you, “That someone is…?”

Thinking about it makes your heart burn. You know that Kozari would never reach him but the thought of it ever happening just leaves you uneasy. “Fleet Admiral… Kozari wants him dead.”

Aramaki blinks at you for a second before erupting into laughter. Your eyes widened, this wasn't the reaction you thought you would receive. “Rahahaha! That guy sure dreams high!” He wipes away the tears in his eyes, calming himself down. “As if! Don't tell me you're actually worried, (Y/N). We both know that's a stupid way of thinking. Overconfidence can really kill a man.”

Well, it's not like he's wrong. Sakazuki's power far surpasses Kozari's capabilities, he couldn't even begin to measure up to his level. So, why the overwhelming protective instinct, to the extent of contemplating taking Kozari's life? It doesn't seem justified at all.

He would never succeed, but what if…

“You’re right. I’m overthinking this,” you say, seeming to shake off your anxiety for at least a moment. “I just… I don't want him to get hurt, you know.”

“Protective ladies sure are charming. Ease up, (Y/N)! Sakazuki-san is used to threats over his life; he'll be just fine. So let's do our best to stop that idiot before achieving what he wants, yeah?” Aramaki’s attempt at reassurance lingers in the air, but you find solace in his words.

With a nod of agreement, you exhale deeply, letting go of the tension that had taken residence in your shoulders.

Just when you continue with the discussion, a Den Den Mushi rings in Aramaki's direction. Retrieving it, the snail creature adopts a familiar appearance. “Ryokugyu, make your way to my office. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, roger that.” The line goes dead shortly after. “You heard the man, I gotta go now. Best get yourself ready for the mission tomorrow. It'll be a long day.”

He bids you farewell with a wave before heading towards the Fleet Admiral's office. You reciprocate the gesture, observing the tall Admiral as he gradually fades from your field of vision. With a deep breath, you turn on your heel and head towards your quarters, mentally preparing for the demanding mission awaiting you tomorrow.

 

---

 

“Keep a close eye on her.”

Aramaki cocks his head to the side, “Huh? Yeah, I'll do that but is something wrong?” he asks, looking genuinely baffled.

Sakazuki blows a cloud of smoke into the air, gripping his cigar tightly between his fingers. “Seeing how extreme his crimes are, I imagine she wouldn't take it too well. If her emotions got the best of her, she might awaken that state again,” he says. “She won't be happy with the outcome.”

Aramaki hums, rubbing his nape. “Alright, then you're saying I should stop her if that does happen. Piece of cake. That'll save her from mental torture.”

The Fleet Admiral grumbles, scrunching the piece of paper on his desk with his hand. “Yes, that's what I want you to do. But they just won't get off my back.” He lets go of the paper before smoking his cigar once again. “They want her to let loose for a while and for you to step in when things turn drastic.”

“They?” Aramaki asks. “You don't mean…”

“The Five Elders.” Sakazuki clenches his jaw, still irritated from their earlier meeting. “They want to see the extent of her state, whether she is able to distinguish allies from foes or not. It seems that she has entered their radar and now they plan to seek after her power and possibly turn her into a human weapon.”

“Wha…! That's ridiculous! I get it, everything they say goes, but out of anyone…” He crosses his arms. “Damn it. It just had to be (Y/N).” With a frustrated huff, he mutters, "Guess it's up to me to rein her in.”

“I am unable to refuse their orders, so I will have to see this through whether I like it or not.” He sighs. “Bunch of… Tch. Give me a break. Listen up, Ryokugyu. Do as they say but restrain her if she's starting to go overboard. Do not let her harm fellow Marines or civilians. This should be sufficient for the report.”

Aramaki simply nods, still debating what he thinks of the Five Elders’ orders. He acknowledges the weight of their authority seeing as they are the overseers of the world after all. But he has taken a liking to you, so imagining you reduced to a human weapon with no sole purpose in life is not a pretty sight. And he knows Sakazuki shares the same exact thoughts.

“I guess I should tell you about this, but that Kozari guy isn't just aiming to bring us down,” he says. "His objective extends further – he wants to kill you.”

Sakazuki doesn't react. Instead, his face contorts into that of annoyance. “I’ve heard that a million times, it gets bleaker each time I hear it. I don't give a shit about his motives, that fool has been a nuisance for far too long. It's time he learns his place and knows not to mess with the Marines.”

“With that plan in his mind, that will only raise the possibility of (Y/N) entering that state.”

He freezes in place, his eyes slowly darting at Aramaki. “What did you say?” he asks, although deep down he knows he heard it loud and clear.

Oh, fuck. There goes my big mouth. “Uh, you know! Because why would she stand by and let some random nobody think he's hot shit. And plus, she's pretty frustrated already from our meeting earlier. That Rear Admiral sure knows how to grind her gears!” He fakes a cough, realizing how blatant his lies are. “...I’m saying that she gets angry pretty easily when provoked, and she's worried she won't be able to protect you.”

Sakazuki lets out a breath through his nose, the corner of his lips raises ever so slightly. “Protect me? What nonsense,” he responds, amused. “Worry about yourself, Vice Admiral.”

Aramaki stays silent, his frown grows prominent. He must be hallucinating. There's no way this broody guy just smirked.

Realizing the expression he is making, he returns to making a sour face like he always does. “Anywho, that's all I have to say.” Seeing that his cigar is coming to an end, he puts it out on the ashtray. “Give this to her. Keep a piece of her Vivre Card on you at all times. If you ever get separated, you'll know where to find her.”

Sakazuki hands over a piece of Vivre Card to Aramaki, with the corner piece of the paper torn off.

“What’s with the corner?” he asks, taking it from his hand.

Sakazuki shoves his hand inside the pocket of his pants, feeling the torn sheet moving against his hand.

“Quit asking so many questions.”

Notes:

1. Sorry for the late update. Will you guys forgive me if I write a 10k word of intense smut with Sakazuki

2. I'm joking. Don't get your hopes up.

3. I don't think the release schedule I've set for myself means anything anymore 🫥

Chapter 22: XXI ; THE TASTE OF BLOOD REMAINS

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from I'm Low On Gas And You Need A Jacket by Pierce The Veil.

It's been so long since Sakazuki felt cold.

A man of justice, he had sworn to pursue it to no end—even if he had to trample over others. There is no time to falter to his emotions, he has kept it sealed shut from everyone else, where no one can access. Scornful eyes gaze on him as if he is the spawn of the devil himself; he returns the same gaze. His eyes hold a fiery determination and his body burns with the same heat.

And yet… Why does he feel so cold?

Is it the temperature? It's not a chilly one, nor is it snowing at all. Then perhaps it is a fever. Maybe a man as great as Sakazuki is also susceptible to illness, just like any other human.

But it is none of them. He lets out a breath, and it disperses into the air. It is not cold. So why is he? It's almost unbearable, the heat of magma contained within his body doesn't seem enough. Is it still there? The boiling liquid that has taken countless lives is as though it is absent.

This overbearing cold paired with the darkness of the surrounding, it can only be a nightmare. A good sight is useless even in the darkest of night, leaving him to wonder on his own. With no destination in mind, he could only hope to walk and find a place to rest. And God, please, a warm place to replace this missing heat of mine.

He keeps walking, pushing through the fatigue even as his legs protest with each step. Enduring the pain, he reminds himself that there will be a reward waiting at the end of this arduous journey. With no way back, he presses forward, fueled by the promise of what lies ahead.

“You bastard. You call this ‘justice’?”

Keep walking, Sakazuki, he tells himself. The voices aren't real, they are dead. Do not falter. Do not look back. Everything he does is for the right cause. You are not wrong.

“Spare my family! They did nothing wrong!”

A pirate's blood will flow even in their loved ones. Exterminate all of them, exterminate all evil in this world. Make no mistake. He is a Marine, he is made for this.

“You are a coward. This isn't justice, this is tyranny.”

Coward? He has worked so hard to get to where he is now. There is no space for fear in his heart. Grouping him with the cowards as pirates scum is unforgivable.

“What do you fight for, Fleet Admiral?”

He finally stops, and he can feel the soles of his feet showering him with gratitude. A familiar figure stands in front of him amidst the darkness, as if being enveloped in it, much like him for his whole life. But one thing he notices is that it doesn't feel so cold anymore. He lets out a sigh.

“Justice… This world is full of evil and it's up to me to get rid of them.”

The muscles in his calves tense up, compelling him to take another step closer towards the figure. Despite his best efforts to resist, he finds himself unable to stop.

“And you will do anything to obtain justice?”

He steps even closer, despite trying his hardest to stop moving. An unknown force is forcing him to move. Utter hopelessness washes over him as he realizes any attempt to break the force is hauntingly futile. He is now nothing but a puppet.

“Whatever it takes.”

Whispers begin to materialize, weaving through the silence like tendrils of shadow. Yet, the figure stands unwavering, untouched by the spectral voices. Sakazuki, ever stalwart, recognizes the illusion for what it is—an echo of his own disturbed mind.

But the warmth he so strongly craves for earlier is just there in front of him. And the desire to get closer grows stronger, as evident by him taking yet another step closer. Maybe the force knows exactly what is in his mind, and he decides to not fight back anymore.

“Do you believe you are a good man?”

He is finally near. He doesn't feel so cold anymore. And you are just as beautiful as ever.

“Of course,” Sakazuki answers, a faint smile drawn on his lips.

“That’s what you believe. But, are you a good man?”

He blinks.

Was he ever this close? And when did his hands find their way to your neck? “Vice Admiral...!" he stammers, as droplets of sweat, akin to tears of remorse, trace their path down his furrowed brow. Though he strains to withdraw, the grasp of his fingers tightens. Despite the harm he is causing to you, the expression on your face stays the same.

His breathing slowly becomes irregular and frantic. Rather ironic considering the position he is currently in. As if there is a jump in time, he is only now realizing you are now on the ground with him above you. You look up at him with your mouth agape, but you make no effort to push him off. The blood in your face is starting to drain out. But only his hands are trembling.

“W… Why…?” he heaves, his lips quivering. His hands press even further, his fingernails digging deep into your skin to the point of drawing blood.

And whispers metamorphose into screams, echoing not from without but from the tumultuous depths of his own mind. It doesn't come from outside, everything is yelling inside of his own head. As much as he tries to block it out and concentrate on prying his hands off of you, the clamor only intensifies, drowning out all semblance of tranquility.

Sakazuki, the man of absolute justice, is overwhelmed with the very emotions he had thought were disposed of a long time ago.

The heat he desires so strongly for earlier is now like raging flames of hell, engulfing him entirely and burning him from the inside out. The heat he holds so proudly is now against him. And he begins to wish for the cold to return - to freeze him so these hands wouldn't kill you.

The light in your eyes begins to dim, like a fading ember succumbing to the encroaching darkness. Once again, he is reminded of how fragile a human life is. As your final gesture, you weakly raise your hand and rest it on his chest, feeling the thump of his heart beneath your touch. He releases a shaky breath, his emotions evident in the quiver of his exhale.

“Are those feelings worth it, Sakazuki?”

With a gasp, he jolts awake, beads of sweat clinging to his skin as he catches his breath to calm his frantic heart. He looks down on his hands, they aren't wrapped tightly to a frail neck anymore. He uses those hands to slick his hair back from sticking to his forehead due to sweat.

Glancing to the side, he searches for the clock. 4:01 p.m. Just about an hour before his usual wake-up time. The stiffness in his shoulders urges him to rise and prepare for work; he can compensate for the lack of sleep later. Yet, the lingering unease from the nightmare renders the prospect of rest elusive for now.

With a sigh, he resigns himself to the reality of the situation and pushes aside the drowsiness, knowing that the demands of the day ahead will not wait for him to catch up on lost sleep.

As he gazes at his reflection in the mirror, a faint shadow of you materializes behind him. In the dim light, a vivid crimson hue encircles your neck like a haunting specter. His eyebrows furrow and he frowns, a sense of unease settling in the depths of his being. Lighting up a cigar, he takes a quick inhale and then exhales the smoke, covering the shadow completely.

The smoke disperses and so does the shadow. Sakazuki grimaces at the sight.

“Why is it always you, Vice Admiral…?”

 

---

 

“...I’m telling you, (Y/N), you have to be careful. Don't underestimate him. He's messed up in the head.”

You close your eyes and let out a quiet sigh. Jay's incessant chatter about Kozari, treating him as the ultimate threat, has become overwhelming. While you acknowledge the severity of Kozari's crimes, the repetitive warnings are beginning to grate on your nerves, threatening to push you to the brink of frustration.

Though, you do trust him. And you know fully well that he is only voicing his concerns for you. But at one point, it just gets annoying. “Yes, yes, I hear you. Shit, I think I'm going deaf.” Jay immediately shuts his mouth. “I appreciate your concern for my safety but Aramaki-han will be with me, it can't get any safer than that. I will be fine, Jay.”

He grumbles loudly, running his hand through his hair. It's strange that he is more worried about the mission than you are, when he is not even tagging along. “I can't help it. You've seen what he did to those poor men, I just don't want the same thing happening to you.”

You glance toward the docks, where Seamen diligently load cargo onto the ship. Nearby, Aramaki observes them with a casual air, basking lazily in the sunlight. The rays accentuate the vibrant hue of his green hair, transforming it into a striking shade reminiscent of a lush forest. Next to him is Sakazuki, a cigar present in his mouth. It seems like they are talking about something.

“Come on. That anxious demeanor doesn't suit you at all,” you tease, a playful smirk tugging on your lips.

A faint blush tinges his cheeks, and he hastily averts his gaze from yours. “Ah, you're giving me a headache, seriously,” he mutters, before meeting your eyes once more. His gaze drifts to your neck, where a small, subtle bruise darkens the skin. “Anyway, what's with that bruise?”

“Oh, this?” You gently touch the bruise on your neck, the discomfort having diminished since its appearance. “Apparently, I had a restless night and managed to roll off the bed. My neck took a hit on the bedside table,” you explain with a wry smile. “Ridiculous, isn't it? I can't even recall what I dreamt about that led to such a vigorous movement.”

Jay shakes his head. “See, you managed to hurt yourself even in your sleep. How do you expect me to not worry about the outcome of the mission?” You remain silent, acknowledging the truth in his words. “And the bruise is on your neck out of all places. I mean, that has to be a bad omen. Who knows if it's a sign of something to come.”

You give him a nudge on the arm. “Since when did you believe in that kind of stuff? It's nothing. Do yourself a favour and relax. You're more nervous than I am.”

Pursing his lips, he contemplates your words. You're absolutely right. He doesn't recall ever feeling this uneasy over something as trivial as an accidental bruise. Yet, the atrocities committed by Kozari against the Seamen are unfathomably brutal; he shudders to think of the horrors inflicted upon the families of those he has killed.

Seeing them laying on the bed as they hopelessly recall the events that had transpired just hours before is not a pretty sight, to say the least. Bloodied and bodies full of wounds, he knows that the mental wounds are the only ones that will not heal. Having to leave the rest of their lives with their loved ones taken from them, it's no surprise to hear a lot of them expressing a loss in interest in living.

And when he blinks, they are no longer on the bed, but now it is you. So much blood covers you that it is becoming difficult to recognize your features, reduced to a mere husk of the friend he once knew. The heart rate monitor emits a long, ominous beep, and he can only watch in horror as the other medics rush over with a white cloth to cover you. Just as they are about to conceal your face, he catches a glimpse of your lifeless eyes, once filled with vitality, now empty and devoid of the spark of life.

“It’s your big day, huh?” said a voice behind you. “Everyone is placing high hopes on you and Admiral Ryokugyu. Musta been hard to shoulder such heavy expectations,” the voice continues as you turn around to find its source, seeing Combs with a cigarette in his mouth. He exhales the smoke not directly to you but just obnoxiously close enough to your face. “Nervous yet, Vice Admiral (Y/N)?”

You don't know what it is that you did to have Combs disturb your peace. As if having to bear the guilt is not enough, he seems to enjoy bringing it up often. Even going as far as telling you to be proud of it like it was some kind of trophy. You know he is taunting you but all you can do is suck it up and keep quiet. Causing a ruckus before going on your mission is not ideal.

Especially when Sakazuki is not that far away. What will he think of you if he sees you get into a fight with Combs?

“I see you are as annoying as ever, Rear Admiral Combs. Don't worry about me being nervous,” you say, folding your arms and giving him a hard stare. “I am thankful that I have been assigned for this mission, as well as having an Admiral with me. I will use this opportunity to clear my name. Maybe then you will leave me alone once and for all, right?”

Finishing the rest of his cigarette, he throws it on the ground and stomps on it with his shoe before fixing his clothes and meeting your gaze with a steely stare to match. “It’s hard to say, (Y/N),” he responds. “You are a dangerous person. As useful as your powers are, overtime, it will eventually be a threat to our safety. Look around and tell me if there is anyone here that is comfortable with your presence.”

“Is that how you perceive me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at the older man. “Just a dangerous uncontrollable Vice Admiral that will one day snap and hurt her allies?”

“Come on. Everyone does. Why do you think the recruits are always afraid to walk past you? I’m positive the only reason you're still allowed to be here is because we could use your powers to its fullest,” he says. “I’m just saying. If you don't find a way to control whatever it is you have inside of you, it won't end well. There will be a time when everyone is tired of your brute nature that they will have to…”

You immediately tense up the moment he trails off. “You’re saying they will execute me?”

This brings out an amused smirk from him. “Hm. You said it, not me. That is if you're lucky, of course. There is always a chance of you encountering a stronger opponent and dying a much more painful and unforgiving death.” He cocks his head slightly, giving you a look that you can't quite read. “Who’s to say that will happen? I guess we're gonna have to wait and see.”

“Just go, Combs. They're going to depart soon, it's best you go back to your post,” Jay says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Combs doesn't say anything back, watching in silence as Jay's gaze hardens.

He raises his hands lazily. “Alright, alright. No need for the sour faces. Must be why you two get along so well,” he quips, a smirk playing on his lips. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he takes a step back. “Anyway, best of luck on the mission, (Y/N). Don't lean too heavily on Ryokugyu, yeah?”

As you watch him walk away, the tension in your body refuses to dissipate. Try as you might to push aside Combs' words, they only echo louder in your mind. How could anyone truly feel at ease around someone as prone to violence as yourself? The realization weighs heavily on you, casting a shadow over your interactions with others. You can't shake the feeling that everyone must tread carefully, lest they inadvertently trigger the dormant darkness within you.

What distinguishes you from a rabid dog tearing into a carcass? When do you become nothing more than a creature driven by primal hunger for blood, akin to a pack of hyenas? The ferocity in your eyes rivals that of a wild beast, blurring the line between human and animal.

The only thing that sets you apart from animals is that you are burdened with morality and a sense of need to be a good person.

But what good person kills without mercy?

“Jay,” you call his name, barely coming out as a whisper.

“Just what is his problem?” he asks, letting out an annoyed huff. He turns to look at you, only to find the change of expression on your face. “Yeah?”

Your hands somehow feel heavy. They hold the blood of the lives you have taken. No matter how vigorously you wash your body, they remain stained to your skin, constantly reminding you of the horrible acts you have committed. You may pray for forgiveness endlessly, but deep down, you know absolution is beyond reach.

There's no way anyone will ever love someone like me.

“Are you scared of me?”

Jay doesn't immediately respond, though he knows should have. He can tell you are doubting yourself and yet he couldn't think of words of reassurance to offer to you. You are no longer irritated by Combs’ presence earlier, but now replaced with a profound melancholy. You don't say anything more, but your expression speaks volumes.

He doesn't know the answer.

Who wouldn't feel apprehensive standing next to someone who has taken lives, especially when they're a dear friend? But is it fair to fear one person while excusing another? Cain has also taken lives, yet he swore to serve him. The Fleet Admiral's hands aren't clean either, yet he remains indifferent. Just another cog in the machine, he can't afford to concern himself with the cleanliness of someone's hands as long as they are his superior.

And for that, he recognizes himself for what he is—a hypocrite.

But why does seeing the animalistic look in your eyes strike fear in him?

“Of course not,” he finally answers with a forced smile, concealing any apprehension. A little white lie won't hurt. He just needs to tell you what you need to hear and everything will be fine again. If it will give you peace of mind, he is willing to deceive you.

As you sense footsteps approaching from behind, a voice calls out, "Vice Admiral, we will depart soon. Are you all set to go?" Turning, you find a Seaman standing at attention, swiftly saluting as your gaze meets his.

Giving the Seaman a silent nod as a sign of affirmation, he pivots on his heel and strides purposefully back towards the ship. You take a glance at Jay, gesturing to you to go ahead. “Good luck on your mission, (Y/N).”

A small smile on your lips. “Thank you…”

“It’s no problem. Come back in one piece, alri—”

“...for not being afraid of me,” you finish your sentence, your words hanging in the air as you briskly make your way towards the awaiting ship. Jay's gaze lingers, a mix of surprise and concern evident in his expression.

He sighs. Small white lies never left behind guilt to him but this time, it did. Although it was a quick glance, he saw how relieved you were at his answer. A simple answer but to you, it is a ray of hope in a tunnel of total darkness. It hurts his heart knowing that the so-called ray of hope is nothing but a lie to protect you. What would you do if you found out it wasn't real to begin with? That he fears you just like everybody else?

But you are not a monster, (Y/N). Even if you had unknowingly planted a fear in him, he does not think of you as a monster. You are far from that. He wishes for you to realize that.

 

---

 

As you step onto the docks, the sturdy wooden planks creaking beneath your feet, you navigate towards where Aramaki and Sakazuki stand. Aramaki's beckoning gesture invites you closer, in his hand is a small piece of paper.

“(Y/N)! What took you so long? Here, I got something for you.” He hands you that piece of paper with a large chunk of it ripped off. “This here is your Vivre Card. Keep it on you at all times, okay? I don't want you getting lost in an unfamiliar place. Might be a good idea to give some to the other guys for them to hold too.”

Taking it from his hand, you examine it closely. “Understood… Uh, why is a lot of it missing? Have you torn it off for yourself?”

Sakazuki and Aramaki exchange knowing glances with each other. Sakazuki looks away. “Oh! Well, it's a small paper and these are pretty big hands, aren't they? Don’t worry though, I’m sure the remaining paper is enough to distribute to a number of people.” He gives you another piece of paper, this time it's smaller than your Vivre Card. “Here’s mine. Hold on close to it.”

Accepting the second piece of paper, you carefully tuck the second piece of paper into the pocket of your pants. Aramaki then excuses himself and boards the ship first, leaving you alone with Sakazuki.

“Vice Admiral,” he calls out, his firm tone carrying a sense of authority, drawing your attention towards him. "Don't venture alone," he advises. "Stay within Aramaki's sight at all times. I trust in your abilities to look after yourself, but caution is paramount on this mission. Last thing I need is to see another victim of Kozari returning back to HQ.”

“Yes, of course,” you respond. “I’ll make good use of this Vivre Card.”

As he recalls his earlier dreams, his gaze unconsciously drifts downward from your face to your neck. A sharp pang of guilt courses through him as he remembers the sensation of his hands tightly wrapped around your throat, suffocating the life out of you. His heart skips a beat as he notices the dark blemish marring your skin, a stark reminder of the violence he had dreamed of inflicting upon you.

“...what is that?” Sakazuki asks, eyes burning with a heat that sends shivers down your spine. What kind of cruel coincidence is this? Why does it have to be on your neck?

You rub on the bruise. “This? I moved a lot during my sleep yesterday and fell off my bed. My neck hit the corner of my bedside table.” That's the second time the same question has been asked. It's a rather embarrassing story to tell. “But it's fine. It doesn't hurt anymore.”

He rationalizes it as a mere coincidence, attributing no deeper meaning to the blemish. Despite the unsettling reminder of his nightmare, he convinces himself there's no cause for concern, determined to push aside any lingering doubts.

Yet, a nagging unease lingers in the back of his mind, hinting at deeper implications he struggles to ignore. Despite his disbelief in omens, a sense of foreboding tugs at his heartstrings, urging him to remain vigilant as they embark on this journey. As he tries to quell his unease, he can't shake the feeling that the blemish holds some elusive significance, waiting to reveal itself in due time.

“I’m sorry, Fleet Admiral-han. They're waiting for me, I have to go,” you declare, pulling him out of his thoughts. His head snaps towards you, shock curling through him.

You turn around to board the ship. Immediately, his head is ridden with thoughts that are so loud that he can't focus on anything else but you. Before he knows it, his hand quickly reaches out and grabs you by the wrist tightly, stopping you from moving forward. His grip is firm yet hesitant, betraying the inner conflict he wrestles with as he tries to make sense of his overwhelming emotions.

Caught off guard by the sudden action, your heart races, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. He's touching my wrist. “Sir...? What's wrong?” you stammer, uncertainty colouring your voice as you meet his gaze, searching for an explanation in the depths of his eyes.

He's just as startled by his own actions, his hand moving almost involuntarily without his conscious consent. Glancing once more at the bruise on your neck, a hollow lump forms in his throat, a silent reminder of the unsettling connection between his thoughts and reality.

I’m overthinking it.

“...stay safe, Vice Admiral.”

Releasing your wrist, he withdraws his hand. "I will," you assure him, your voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty as you try to make sense of the unexpected encounter. "Thank you..." you add softly, acknowledging the gesture.

Your heart refuses to settle, the warmth of his hand on your wrist lingering in your mind. But it's the heat creeping up your cheeks that burns fiercer. With a quick nod to announce your departure, you hurriedly board the ship, hoping to conceal the telltale blush from his gaze.

As the ship slowly departs from the docks, he stands in silence, his gaze fixed on the receding vessel. The sun casts a golden glow over the water, painting the scene with hues of orange and pink, while seagulls circle overhead, their cries echoing in the salty breeze. Yet, despite the picturesque setting, an uneasy feeling gnaws at his heart, like a premonition of impending trouble. No matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise, the sense of foreboding refuses to diminish, lingering like a shadow over his thoughts.

Notes:

1. Really tried my hardest with the symbolisms in this chapter 😫 I keep worrying if everyone will get it or if it just looks like straight up nonsense

2. But I really like this chapter. And it's longer than usual too!

3. I'm still worried if the symbolisms are understandable or not. Check out the notebook , I'll do my best to explain it

Chapter 23: XXII ; THE HUMAN PREDATORS ALL GONE MAD

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from The Vengeful One by Disturbed.

As you stand on the deck of the battleship, the salty sea breeze whips through your hair. You lean on the railings, watching the vast expanse of ocean stretch endlessly before you, its deep blue hues reflecting the brilliance of the sun above. In the background, your subordinates chatter as they run around to prepare the necessary stuff for docking soon.

If the reports are accurate and Kozari is indeed hiding on this island, it's imperative that you exert every effort to apprehend him for good. Too many innocent lives have been lost in cold blood, all of them merely treated as stepping stones in his relentless pursuit of revenge.

“What're you doing here all alone, (Y/N)?” Aramaki asks, his voice carrying curiosity as he appears from behind you, standing beside you on the deck of the ship. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the glowing ember casting flickering shadows across his face, as he exhales a cloud of smoke that mingles with the salty air.

The odds are in your favour since the wind is currently blowing in the opposite direction, ensuring that the smoke from his cigarette won't reach you. “Just thinking about the mission. It's really nerve-wracking to think that everyone is placing their hopes on us to finally put an end to his terrorism.” You hang your head low. “I don't want to disappoint them.”

He looks at you, your expression remains stoic, yet your gaze fixates on the sea, hinting at the multitude of thoughts swirling within your mind. Your fingers absentmindedly scratch at your forearms. If anyone looked close enough, it would be quite clear that you are restless.

“Don’t worry too much. Sakazuki-san trusted you enough to have you on this mission with me,” he says. “So, maybe you should stop scratching yourself. Those forearms can only handle so much before eventually bleeding.”

You quickly pull your arms apart. “Yes, sorry,” you apologize. “I wish I can calm myself down, but I can't help but think what would happen if I failed. Kozari will continue and everything will be even more hectic, I won't hear the end of it.”

It dawns on you that Jay's nervousness pales in comparison to your own concerns. While he may fear for your safety, the magnitude of your worries far surpasses his.

“Such a worrywart! Have some confidence, (Y/N). I'm fairly certain that you will do a great job if you don't worry yourself about hypothetical failure,” he assures you. “Look, if we apprehend him, it'll be cause for celebration. You'll be hailed as a hero. But I don't think you're the type of person to let fame get to your head, are you?”

Imagining a crowd surrounding you as they shower you in praises does seem overwhelming. “Well, fame didn't cross my mind at all, and it never will,” you affirm. “I just hope that by ending this mission successfully will clear my name.”

“It will,” Aramaki shortly replies.

And if you did clear your name, maybe the Five Elders will finally lose their interest in you. The idea of having you stripped of your humanity and reduced to a mere tool to do their dirty work for them unsettles him deeply. If they are so insistent on such a cruel fate, then it's better off to go find someone else that is actually willing to comply.

You gently wrap your fingers around your wrist, the same one Sakazuki had his hand on before. The heat from your palm feels minuscule compared to his, yet it seemed like scorching hot iron pressed against your skin. But there's no physical mark, just a sensation conjured in your mind. The true heat, you realize, emanates from within yourself, burning even hotter than his magma.

You've always been aware of his immense size, but another realization hits you – the sheer magnitude of the difference in size is staggering. His fingers completely wrap around your wrist with space to spare. His grip was absolutely firm but not so strong to the point of hurting you.

It must be effortless for him to restrain you with just his hands alone. It wouldn't even require a fraction of his strength to hold you down, like a predator effortlessly holding its prey in place before leaning in to feed. His presence alone exudes a daunting sense of control, leaving you acutely aware of your vulnerability in his grasp. And you know would let him do so, you would allow him to ravage your flesh like a starved beast.

“Holy shit,” you unconsciously mutter out, feeling the familiar heat setting in your face. I did not just think that.

After he had gone on the ship earlier, leaving both of you behind, he had secretly lingered by the entrance and witnessed the entire exchange, a silent witness to the unspoken tension between you and Sakazuki. He raises his eyebrow, curiosity etched in his features. “What are you doing, (Y/N)? Reenacting that scene earlier?” His voice carries a hint of amusement, as he finds the situation rather entertaining.

You hurriedly let go of your wrist. “No, I… Wait, you saw that?”

He points to the sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “Hey, I know I wear these sunglasses a lot but I’m not blind! What was that about? A confession?” he teases.

Your eyes widen at him. “A what—? Oh, God, no! It’s not what you think,” you hastily clarify, a flush of embarrassment creeping into your cheeks. “He simply told me to be safe on the mission, that's it.”

He doesn't seem entirely convinced. “Right. Second question, what's that on your neck? Got busy last night?” he asks with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying teasing you.

Oh, no, you think to yourself, it doesn't actually look like… that… does it? “I bruised myself because I rolled off the bed last night. Whatever it is you have in your mind, I assure you that it is not it,” you explain, a hint of exasperation in your voice. “I spent all night worrying about the mission, I don't have time to involve myself in that sort of thing.”

Aramaki laughs, thoroughly amused by your flustered reaction. “I’m joking! Man, your face can't get any redder,” he chuckles, inhaling the contents of his cigarette.

Geez, this guy just knows how to make you stumble on your words with his teasing. But his teasing doesn't compare to the things in your head since you had just conjured up some inappropriate thoughts about your own boss. It's good that you still possess common sense and don't voice those thoughts out loud. Lord knows the names they will call you for being so disgustingly unprofessional.

You push those thoughts away, reminding yourself that the success of this mission is your priority. Now is not the time to unravel these feelings; there will be plenty of opportunities for that later. Getting distracted by your own emotions could lead to failure, and you can't afford to let that happen—especially when innocent lives are depending on you.

 

---

 

As soon as your battleship is moored to the pier, you notice a crowd of people waiting by the docks. Some of them stand on tiptoe, scanning the ship, their faces filled with anticipation as they search for their family member who serves as a Marine. The air is charged with a mix of excitement, anxiety, and hope as loved ones eagerly await the reunion with their Marine relatives.

When the soldiers descend onto the island, the civilians refrain from approaching them. The excitement on their faces dims slightly, transitioning into a hint of disappointment. Nevertheless, they welcome the soldiers with warm smiles, understanding the need to maintain a respectful distance and allowing the soldiers to carry out their duties without interruption.

“Huh, I guess the ones that we are eagerly waiting for aren't part of this mission.”

“Shame! I was really looking forward to seeing my husband.”

“Not even one of them? It's been so long since I last saw my son.”

Having read the paperwork earlier, you knew that those with loved ones currently residing on this island weren't allowed to participate in the mission due to the fear of Kozari targeting them. This precaution aimed to prevent further damage to morale, already weakened by Kozari's terrorizing of other families, and ensure the safety of all involved. An emotionally damaged soldier will be useless in battle after all.

A woman in her twenties approaches you, “This is a face I haven't seen before. Why did they send an Admiral here? Is something wrong?” she asks.

Others turn to face you, awaiting your answer. “I am Vice Admiral (Y/N). We received a report that a dangerous criminal is currently hiding somewhere on this island,” you explain, presenting a photograph of Kozari printed just yesterday. “His name is Kozari. Have any of you seen him anywhere?”

Their expressions shift, some exchanging uncertain glances while others shake their heads in denial, indicating they haven't seen the wanted criminal. 

“I don't think any of us did. But we've heard of this Kozari,” one of them speaks up, “A bunch of us were contacted by our family members at HQ and told about him.” They pause briefly before continuing, "Is it really true? Is he targeting Marines’ families?”

“He is, unfortunately,” you sigh, your expression serious. “That guy's a ticking time bomb. We have to catch him fast before he hurts innocent people any more. If you have any information, anything at all, we would really appreciate it if you tell us now,” you urge, conveying the urgency of the situation.

They exchange silent glances with each other, none of them having any valuable information to offer.

“Oh, well, that's fine. We have a bunch of soldiers to look around, I’m sure one of us will find him eventually—” Your words halt abruptly, drowned out by a loud rumbling noise. You glance down at your stomach, a mix of horror and embarrassment washing over you at the volume of its protest.

Right. You haven't had breakfast yet today. And your stomach decided it would be a wonderful idea to announce this to everyone.

“Goodness! You don't seriously think you could go on a mission with an empty stomach, do you, miss?” An elderly woman asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she chuckles. “Why don't you come with us and have a quick breakfast? It'll be on us.”

Before you could refuse her offer, you find yourself gently dragged onward by your arm, deeper into the island. Although you're capable of stopping them, the allure of filling your empty stomach is too tempting to resist. Despite the urgency of your mission, the thought of food persists, tugging at your concentration like a persistent itch.

As you follow the woman’s lead, you take this opportunity to look around the island. The tall trees definitely give off tropical vibes but the buildings serve a stark contrast, like a hidden city in a jungle. Walking down the streets, you could see many stores and civilians lounging around. The pictures Brannew presented yesterday didn't really seem to match with what you're seeing.

“Were you expecting a quiet island with a small village, Vice Admiral?” a man in his sixties asks, giving you a toothy grin. “Don’t be fooled by the trees. This bustling city never sleeps, and at night, it comes alive even more.”

“That’s right! But there are still a number of people that prefer a quieter environment. If you go along the path in the forest, you will find a small village there.”

After some minutes of walking, you finally arrive at the destination. The restaurant's exterior emanates a comforting homeliness, with its welcoming facade exuding a cozy charm. A quaint porch adorned with potted plants adds a touch of rustic charm, evoking a sense of familiarity and relaxation. However, the sign on the door says “closed”.

“Oh dear! I thought Foley would have opened it by now. It's usually open at this hour.” She observes the inside of the restaurant through the large windows, searching for a familiar face. “That boy makes the best pasta, I tell you.”

You place your hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright. I'll reward myself with food after I finish this mission.”

“But I have a bad feeling about this. None of us have seen Foley since early morning, he is usually out on the porch to water the plants,” he remarks, gesturing towards the dry potted plants. “Everyone here knows how much Foley cares about his beloved plants. He never misses a day even if he's sick.”

A young woman wraps her arms around herself, her expression troubled. “Hey, with all this Kozari guy situation going on right now, do you reckon he… kidnapped Foley?” she asks, nervously pacing back and forth.

Murmurs ripple through the group, their voices tense with concern. A sudden disappearance at this time is not to be overlooked. Who's to say that Kozari won't harm a civilian if their family, who is a Marine, is not present to witness it? His behavior remains an enigma, difficult to decipher with lack of information. Learning that one of the civilians on this island is missing, you are not hungry anymore.

“We have Marines stationed all over the Island. I’ll let them know to keep an eye out for Foley. Can you describe him for me?”

Foley, a man in his early thirties with brown hair and a hint of stubble, is easily identifiable by the turtle pendant necklace adorning his neck—a nod to his fondness for the creature. Descriptions of his clothing are elusive as he's been absent all day, but he's often seen sporting a maroon jacket, a cherished last gift from his late wife, who tragically lost her life in action years ago. It's a garment he seldom removes.

“Vice Admiral, I hope you can find Foley unharmed. The thought of having Kozari on this island is scary enough for us. You'll keep us safe, won't you?”

Before you could respond, your gaze is drawn to a figure moving near some bushes, disappearing quickly into the forest. Though fleeting, you catch a glimpse of their distinctive silver ash hair, a detail that sparks a sense of recognition. Your entire body tenses up.

Your silence unsettles them, and you quickly realize the effect it has. “Yes, of course,” you assure them, your voice steady. “Word of advice, always keep an eye out for each other. Avoid moving alone.”

Not waiting for their agreement, you immediately walk towards the direction Kozari disappeared to. You bring your wristwatch close to your face, waking up Zoom to contact Aramaki. You know it's not a good idea to pursue him alone but you can't let this opportunity go, especially when he's so close. Waiting for backup will only waste time.

“Aramaki-han, where are you?”

“I’m searching for a restroom, I need to pee real bad. Geez! This island is bigger than it looked like.”

“After you're done, can you come to me?”

“Of course, just gimme a sec. Don’t go too far. And you're not alone, are you?”

You hesitate.

“No.”

“Good! Gotta go.”

This is a stupid move. You didn't want to lie but you don't have the patience to wait for others to come, Kozari would have been long gone by then. You will do whatever it takes to capture him, even if you have to do it on your own. This might result in you getting thoroughly scolded for acting alone but if you are successful, then it doesn't matter.

As you venture deeper into the forest, you contact other units spread across the island to inform them about Foley’s disappearance. At the same time, you focus on your observation haki to locate his whereabouts.

You sense it keenly, his presence lingering tantalizingly close. With each step, you draw nearer, the anticipation mounting as you edge closer to the inevitable confrontation. This will finally end, once and for all.

Just turn on this corner. And finally…

“Searching for me, Vice Admiral?”

Kozari sits perched on a formidable rock, a taunting smirk playing on his lips. Resembling the figure captured in the photograph, he wears an entirely black ensemble, the stark contrast of his pale skin and vibrant hair standing out starkly against the darkness of his attire. As you approach, the tension in the air thickens, yet he makes no effort to move away from you.

“You bastard,” you utter through gritted teeth, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite your efforts to remain composed, the surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins betrays your inner turmoil. “Did you enjoy it? Inflicting pain on innocent civilians just to exact your revenge on the World Government and the Marines?”

His face contorts into an offended expression, though it's obvious he does so in a mocking manner. “Me? Enjoy? Just how low do you think of me, Vice Admiral?” He tuts, shaking his head at your accusation. “Do I look like a psychopath to you? I'll have you know that what I'm doing is absolutely necessary. It acts as a message, and clearly, it's working.”

“Necessary? And you're clowning me for calling you a psychopath? You are fucked in the head. If you hold a grudge against the Marines, there's no need to involve innocent lives into this.” His unapologetic face boils your blood, threatening to erupt. You want nothing more than to take him down right now.

“Oh, that's hilarious,” he says. “Let me ask you this, Vice Admiral. How am I any different from the man you work for? He does the same things as I do, and yet, he suffers no actual consequences from it. His hands are just as bloody as mine.”

Silent and conflicted, you offer no retort. Deep down, you acknowledge the truth in his words. While Sakazuki's actions may not align with your ideals, your unwavering loyalty to him has clouded your judgment, leaving you with the unsettling realization that perhaps you've been blinded by your infatuation for him.

“While I absolutely hate his guts, I don't deny that both of us are chasing the same thing. Justice. Our methods are different but our paths lead to the same conclusion.” He shrugs. “Unconventional? Sure. But if it will make the world a better place, then I will do whatever it takes to dismantle both the World Government and the Marines.”

“What did he do, Kozari? What did he do to make you have to resort to this?” you ask.

He offers a faint smile, tinged with a hint of sorrow that doesn't escape your notice. “That’s a story for another day. If you're lucky, maybe you'll get to hear it.” Rising from the rock, he adopts a more serious demeanor and continues, “But for now, it's time for business. And I'm glad you found me, so I didn't have to find you.”

“Find me?” you repeat. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have any family left for you to threaten me with.”

He tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows raised. “I don't recall saying anything about family.”

As he reaches behind the rock, he swiftly retrieves something hidden from view, pulling it out with a forceful motion. A man emerges, stumbling to his feet, his mouth tightly sealed with duct tape and his hands bound behind his back. Upon closer inspection, you recognize the familiar features: brown hair, a hint of stubble, and the unmistakable turtle pendant necklace dangling from his neck. He wears a maroon jacket over a simple grey t-shirt.

“Foley!” you call out his name, your voice ringing with urgency. Startled, Foley's eyes widen with a mixture of fear and confusion as he looks in your direction. Though unsure how you knew his name, he frantically nods in confirmation after noticing you are a Marine officer. With determination, you take a step closer, closing the distance between you and Kozari.

Kozari holds out a hand, his index finger raised in warning. “Not so fast, Vice Admiral,” he cautions, his voice laced with a chilling undertone. “Take another step and I'll have to do something I know you're not gonna like.”

That warning was enough to keep you from moving closer. But he never said anything about moving your hands so you hide your arm from his sight, dialing Aramaki for backup using water to act as your finger.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up, please!

“Let's play a little quiz,” Kozari declares, seizing Foley by the jacket and positioning him in front of him. “What can you do to rescue Mr. Foley over here?” he challenges, his tone dripping with malice as he awaits your response.

You've had enough of him. Your other hand tenses up as you feel your Devil Fruit power coursing through your arm.

“Nope, attacking is not an option,” Kozari quickly interjects.

You clench your jaw, growing frustrated with his antics. Foley visibly grows more restless, afraid of what's to come if you give the wrong answer. His chest heaves with rapid breaths, sweat glistening on his forehead. You stare at Kozari for what feels like minutes, though it may only be a few seconds. You don’t know. You can’t track time as you are.

You take a deep breath before exhaling. “Take me instead.”

Kozari lets a few seconds of absolute silence pass before voicing out, “You’re a smart one, Vice Admiral. That’s the correct answer!”

With a cruel motion, Kozari tears off the duct tape from Foley's mouth, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a pained wince from Foley as some of his facial hair is ripped off in the process. Foley recoils as Kozari grabs his arms and brandishes a knife, deftly slicing through the thick rope binding him in one swift motion. Freed from his restraints, Foley hastily retreats, casting a wary glance back at you as he struggles to catch his breath.

“T-Thank you… Thank you so much…” Foley manages to utter amidst ragged breaths, his gratitude evident despite the pain. “I promise, I'll… I’ll find someone to help you…!” With one final thankful glance in your direction, he turns away, his movements hindered by his injuries as he limps away as swiftly as he can manage.

As soon as Foley disappears from both of your sights, Kozari seizes your arm with a firm grip, swiftly deploying the same knife to slice through the leather strap of your wristwatch before hurling it forcefully onto the ground, ensuring any means of tracking or communication are eliminated.

Zoom…!

You watch hopelessly in silence as it lands on the ground far away from you, realizing that your only form of communication is now lost. Aramaki's failure to pick up on time leaves you stranded and vulnerable. With Kozari tying your hands behind your back with another rope, you rack your brain for a plan, desperate to regain control of the situation.

He gives it one last pull, tightening the rope with cruel precision. The skin of your wrists turns red from the intense pressure, the beginnings of pain creeping in relentlessly. With gritted teeth, you bite down on your lip, fighting to distract yourself from the searing discomfort. The constriction is deliberate, a calculated move to impede your blood flow, and you're acutely aware that he's reveling in your agony.

But it seems he didn't think this through, did he? You possess Kradvine in your blood, granting you greater strength than the average human. His oversight becomes glaringly apparent; he should have used seastone handcuffs to weaken you entirely. All he had to do was do a little bit more research about you.

Ignoring the pain, you begin to push your hands apart. It does get even tighter when you do so but the force from the tension will eventually cause the rope to break and free you. And finally, you will get the chance to take him dow—

“I know you are well capable of breaking this regular rope, but it would be smart of you to keep it on,” he whispers from behind your ear, showing a small remote control with a singular red button on it right to your face. “Or don't, and you'll find out if a single push of this button will decimate this entire island or not.”

Your heart drops, a sinking feeling of dread settling in the pit of your stomach. With a sense of resignation, your hands instantly return to their previous position, frozen in place, not daring to move even an inch.

He lets out a low chuckle, the warmth of his breath grazing the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He’s too close, and it feels suffocating.

Please. I need to breathe.

“You’re different, (Y/N). If given the chance, a lot of those cowardly Marines would rather sacrifice Foley for their own safety, they wouldn't even think twice about it.” He tugs on the rope, a wave of chilling pain shoots through you. “It feels like I'm finally breathing some fresh air. You’re not one of the Marines that are rotten to the core.”

Your prayers are answered as you feel him step away from your back. With a sense of relief washing over you, you exhale a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

“You hear that?” Kozari asks loudly, his attention seemingly fixated on a particular tree. The sound of dried leaves being stepped on reaches your ears, and a figure emerges from behind it.

 

---

 

“(Y/N)! What's up? Did you find him?”

“.......wh………y….....ing he..........”

“Hello?”

“.....sto.............ou dare..........”

“What? Did she accidentally call me?”

“........et away fr.............”

“Hey! Are you alright? What's going on?”

“.................cker!.............”

“Hang in there, I'll come to you!”

“............................”

“............bs..................itor...!”

Notes:

1. I absolutely hate the beginning and the middle of this chapter. I had to pace around my room like a lunatic while trying to brainstorm ideas.

2. I think you've probably noticed by now that Aramaki is very different from the canon. Maybe it's because we barely know him at this point of the story but another reason is I refuse to accept that he's a goddamn bootlicker. I am constantly sipping on copium and now I can't live without it.

3. I keep forgetting that the Reader is actually tall as fuck so let's just say that Kozari is a bit taller than her 😭

4. Have you read Chapter 1109? Shit is CRAZY. I can't believe I just read that.

Chapter 24: XXIII ; HOW I COULD JUST KILL A MAN

Notes:

Chapter title is a song from Cypress Hill, but I was listening to Rage Against The Machine's cover of the song while writing this. :P

Every nerve in your body is telling you to move, but you couldn't. Your feet are firmly planted on the ground, refusing to move a fraction of an inch. Your heart pumps faster, making both blood and adrenaline run in your veins. You don't know what to think, but you know exactly what to feel. Anger.

“You—”

Your words hang loose. If it wasn't for Kozari's threat, you would have broken that rope and choked the living shit out of him. Him not being Kozari, but you plan on doing that anyway after you're done with this son of a bitch. Both of them are absolute bastards but he has that face where you want to cave his skull in so badly. And his nasty personality amplifies that feeling even more.

Kozari kicks your knees from behind, causing you to stumble into a kneeling position. You glare at the man standing before you as he smokes a cigarette. His posture isn't straight, telling you that he doesn't take you seriously. It's subtle, but you could see a growing smirk on his lips. He knows that you know you won't be able to hurt him, not in this predicament that you're in.

“Well, let me start off by saying that this is not personal,” he starts, closing his eyes as he inhales his cigarette. “Hmm. Maybe it is. Not by much, though. I'm mostly doing this for others’ sake.” He opens his eyes, relishing the taste. “So don't hate me for it, (Y/N). I am simply averting the catastrophe before it engulfs us all.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “Stop with the metaphor, Combs. Give it to me straight, I'm not a damn child.”

Combs scoffs. “Since you asked nicely for it, I’ll tell you. No one else wants to say it but I’m pretty sure all of us are thinking the exact same thing. That you are a nuisance.” He raises his shoulders. “Sure, I’ll admit that whatever it is you have in you is useful. Getting rid of criminals? Yeah, that's exactly what the Marines are trying to do. But how do we know that you won't go rogue and turn on us? Perhaps you would be curious to know what it would look like to paint our white walls with blood.”

“What the hell are you accusing me of? Do I look like some kind of twisted psychopath to you?” you ask, trying to inch closer to him but Kozari holds you back by holding on the rope binding your hands behind your back.

Annoyed, Combs raises his hand and grabs a fistful of your hair. You wince in pain but he ignores it. “You know what? Yes, you do. With how much blood you have shed, who's to say you're different from them? Do you still think of yourself as a hero to the innocents?”

Trying to endure the sharp pain at your scalp, you lock eyes with him. Veins protrude on his forehead and neck, a testament to his rising anger. “You’re… a fucking hypocrite,” you accuse, your voice steady to mask the pain. “Feeding Kozari intel on soldiers’ whereabouts just so he can terrorize their families before them. I'll ask you a better question: Do you genuinely believe you stand on a higher moral ground than me?”

“At the very least, their blood isn't on my hands. Call me all the names you want, but you are a ticking time bomb. It's only a matter of time before you go off and kill your own allies instead,” he says, his grip on your hair loosening a little bit. “We can't have that now, can we?”

Silence hangs heavy between you, each refusing to break the intense gaze. Eyes locked in a battle of wills, neither yielding. If it were possible for your eyes to emit lasers, the outcome would be inevitable—two lifeless bodies with smoldering holes where their heads once stood.

You don't understand Combs at all. You don't bother trying to, because now you are focused on breaking this rope and lunge at him immediately with no time to react. The familiar pain returns to your wrists, binding tighter as you push your hands apart. But the pain doesn't matter, people were hurt far worse and you have no time to grovel over a small sting. You have to put a stop to this, to both Kozari and Combs.

“You’re free to assume I'm full of shit, Vice Admiral. I am rather curious to see if you'd want to risk it all and gamble everyone's lives here,” Kozari says, stopping your hands from pushing further. His tone doesn't exactly give a hint as to whether he is bluffing or not, but seeing as he repeated the same threat, you don't want to find out the hard way; so you finally stop trying to break the rope for good.

Fighting back now seems useless. With Kozari holding a device that is apparently, possibly, able to take out everyone in this island in an instant is enough to keep you from trying anymore. You still haven't eaten, and you start to wonder what Foley’s pasta tastes like.

“You don't have to do this. Even if you think I'm a threat to everyone, it's not up to you to execute me. I'm a SWORD, they will cut me off eventually.” Hearing you speak in a dejected tone, Combs finally lets go of your hair. Though, you can tell it wasn't out of sympathy. “And if you insist, I won't struggle anymore. I just ask that you stop helping Kozari hurt more innocent people. I'm… willing to die, if it means you'll stop him.”

A flicker of shock passes through his eyes, albeit subtle. With a click of his tongue, he remarks, “Huh. I sure didn't expect that. Such an honorable martyr, aren't you?”

As you bite your lip, the pain and hunger begin to overwhelm you rapidly. Time is running out before he ultimately ends your life, you cannot waste any more time. Seeing his determined look, doubt creeps in, questioning whether persuasion will have any effect whatsoever.

There's no time to second-guess.

“I’ll let you kill me, Combs. Isn't that enough?” you ask.

"You know (Y/N), I've always hated bugs,” he starts to speak, stomping on the ground beneath him. Removing his foot, you see a squished cricket that is just barely alive. If it weren't for the twitching legs, you’d have thought it died immediately. “It's not just their presence that bothers me, but their sheer determination to survive against all odds. They have a strong will to survive for such a small being. It's both impressive and aggravating, fighting so hard to live to see another day, even when it seems futile. It pisses me off.”

Kozari quietly sighs behind you, already getting tired of having to hear Combs’ monologue. If it weren't for the fact that he's doing all this as a favour to Combs for helping him with his plan, he would've shut him up so quickly.

“So what is it with you? Why do you bear so many similarities with those bugs?” Combs continues, stomping his foot once more to put the cricket out of its misery. “You fight so hard to survive, to prove to everyone that your existence in this world is not just a disaster waiting to unfold. Despite your past actions, you're relentlessly determined to prove your worth as a good person. What do you want, (Y/N)? Validation? From everyone... or yourself?”

You are starting to get light headed. You know you should have eaten something before going on this mission. What about everyone? Are they alright? Does Kozari have any lackeys holding them hostage? Did Foley return safely? Did Kozari really plant explosives around this island? When is Aramaki going to arrive? Why does this have to happen in the first place?

You lift your gaze to Combs, only to be met with a contemptuous stare that reduces you to nothing more than a mere insect. For a moment there, you feel so small and insignificant.

Combs... It's really sickening to see how annoying you are right now. Who do you think you are, trying to read me like some sort of psychiatrist? Do you believe with your whole heart that you are above me? Am I nothing but an insect for you to stomp on?

How dare you. How dare you, Combs. You've been conspiring with Kozari and now hundreds of innocent people were tormented. All because of you, you selfish bastard. And now you're looking down on me when all I did was try to do some good for this godforsaken world. What for? Money? Power? Satisfaction? What do you gain? How do you live with yourself knowing you are the reason countless families were destroyed? Why do you get to sleep soundly at night while I am constantly haunted with nightmares of my own wrongs that I cannot turn back time and right them?

“Why did you do it?” you ask, your voice so low and weak. You don't care anymore. If you are going to die, then you have to know the answer at the very least.

Combs pauses for a moment, his expression shifting as if considering his response carefully. He tilts his head to the side. “Why? It's simple. Rookies these days are some spineless bastards that don't know how to respect their superiors. Or maybe some of them are just plain annoying.” His face shows a smile but it's the kind of smile where it's obviously an irritated one. “I’ll have you know that I am not the kind of man that can tolerate that kind of behaviour. Those that have wronged me… deserve to suffer.”

“If your idea of ‘wronging you’ is just inexperienced rookies that hurt your pride, then forgive my vulgar words, but that's fucking dumb, Combs,” Kozari chimes in, shaking his head at his absurdity.

Combs' expression remains impassive, but a flicker of annoyance crosses his features. He shoots Kozari a pointed look before responding, “I don't think I recall ever asking for your damn input.” And Kozari simply shrugs at the reply. “Since this guy here was out tormenting Marines, I thought why the hell not. I should help him out, particularly hurting those that annoyed me. Maybe that'll teach them.”

All this for a ridiculous reason. I didn't think it was possible to hate him even more than before, but right now, no words could begin to describe it. His entire existence sickens me, I might just throw up the last remnants of sustenance left in my stomach. It's as if every fiber of my being recoils at the sight of him.

At that moment, your mind goes into complete silence, all thoughts vanishing into thin air. Except for one.

I need to kill him.

Without a single coherent thought, you begin to rise from your kneeling position. Your head droops low, eyes fixed on the distorted ground below, as if reality itself is wavering. Blurriness clouds your vision, making it difficult to focus, you suddenly find it hard to breathe—like there is not enough air in this world for your lungs. Behind your back, your hands tremble with a primal urge, itching to clench around his neck and squeeze with all your strength.

Before you could lunge at him, you feel a hand on the back of your neck and a sharp sting that follows shortly after. Your muscles seize, betraying you as you collapse to the ground, your gaze drifting upward to the darkening sky. Each blink brings deeper shadows until all you see is blackness. A strange calm washes over you, numbing the pain and dulling your senses. As your eyelids flutter shut, two looming silhouettes flank your fallen form, their presence the last image you see before the world fades to black.

Kozari retracts the syringe from your neck, throwing it on the ground somewhere behind him. He glances at your sleeping face before looking at Combs. “I thought you said she goes insane when she's unconscious. Is this really a good idea?”

“It’s general anesthesia. That'll keep her muscles relaxed completely, so even if she enters that violent state, I'd reckon all she is capable of doing is give me a death stare while being completely paralyzed.” Seeing as his cigarette has burned to the end, he removes it from his mouth and drops it on the ground, stomping on it to put it out.

“What a waste of time. I could've made it lethal, you know.”

“I’m aware. But that wouldn't be near as satisfying at all in my eyes. If I were to tell you to do that, then it would mean you would be the one to take her life.” Combs cracks his knuckles before kneeling down on top of your body, his legs sit on your sides. “I’m not one to get my hands dirty, I'd prefer to do it from far away. But this one is an exception. I want to see the moment her soul leaves her eyes.”

Kozari's eye twitch at the sight of Combs revealing his true colour. Even for someone as hardened as him, anyone could tell that Combs is just straight up deranged in the head. He watches in silence as Combs reaches his hand behind your back, stopping just above the waistline of your pants. With a swift motion, he pulls out your tanto.

He winds his hand back, holding tightly onto the tanto. His other hand rests on your collarbones, keeping you in place. He knows where exactly he wants to drive that blade through and he makes sure it will happen.

“Die quietly, (Y/N),” he whispers, his voice a chilling caress before he takes a deep breath, summoning all his strength to bring the tanto down with a merciless swing.

 

---

 

Are you going to let him do that?

Is this where you want to meet your demise?

Is this what you wanted?

I…

There's still so much I wanted to do.

…

So get up, (Y/N).

 

---

 

Just as Combs swings the tanto down, you suddenly raise your head and sink your teeth into his wrist, exerting extra pressure on the bones beneath your bite.

“Fuck!” he yells, the force of your bite on his wrist causing him to involuntarily release the tanto. He staggers backward, clutching his injured wrist as he inspects the deep bite mark and feels the intense pain radiating through his flesh and bones. Seeing the deep bite mark on his skin and the immense pain that comes with it, he realizes just how strong a human jaw can be.

Seizing the fleeting opportunity, you forcefully push your hands apart, causing the rope to instantly snap. Rising to your feet, you sprint towards Combs, who scrambles backward in a futile attempt to escape. But you are much faster, closing the distance in a blur. Your outstretched hands find their mark, gripping his collar with precision as you bear down on him, leveraging every ounce of your body weight to stop him from moving.

You swing your fist back while the other holds him in place, preparing to punch him square in the face. As it comes down, Combs holds up his hand and grabs you by the wrist, barely inches away from landing directly on his face. He holds it in place while you try to push further. He uses his other hand to grab your hand on his collar and pry them away.

As you try to push your hands towards him, he uses just as much as strength to keep them away. He glances behind you, his eyes going wide.

And then a loud thud echoes through the forest, and you fall to the ground besides Combs. Your mouth spurts out blood and you can feel the warm liquid slowly dripping down from your head to your face. It's the worst headache you've ever felt.

“Shit, was the anesthesia not strong enough?” Kozari huffs, dropping the rock splattered with your blood to the ground.

Combs slowly gets up, wincing at the pain on his wrist. “No… it worked. She's not conscious, but she shouldn't be able to move.” He limps towards you. “What a pain in the ass, (Y/N).”

“This… is the state?” Kozari asks, watching Combs kneeling on top of you once again. “Just what kind of monster is she? How can someone be this strong to defy the effects of anesthesia?”

“I don't care anymore,” Combs says, his voice a low, hoarse growl. His hands clamp around your neck, applying pressure with a punishing grip. “I’m so fucking tired of you, (Y/N)!” His eyes burn with a mixture of fury and exhaustion, revealing the profound extent of his frustration.

As the air gradually escapes your lungs, you desperately clutch at Combs' wrists, striving to pry them away. But Combs remains immovable, only increasing the pressure on your trachea. Your throat constricts, choking sensations intensifying with each passing moment, compounded by the metallic taste of blood filling your mouth. With futile desperation, you rake your fingernails across his hands, digging deep, but he remains unfazed, unmoved by your frantic attempts.

Realizing your initial attempt was ineffective, you begin to thrash your lower body, destabilizing him and causing his grip to loosen slightly. He groans out of frustration and goes back to putting pressure. Your vision blurs, dark spots dancing at the edges as oxygen becomes increasingly scarce.

Seeing Combs struggle to finish you off, Kozari yells, “Just take my damn knife, Combs! Stop having a huge ego for once, you dumbass!” His frustration reverberates through the tense air, urging Combs to reconsider his stubborn stance.

“Stay out of this! I've had enough of this bitch, I'll kill her with my own two hands!”

Stopping Combs is out of question, as he absolutely refuses to budge. Your eyes dart to your side, where the tanto he was about to stab you with earlier lies on the ground, a glint of hope amidst the chaos.

“Just die already, (Y/N)! If no one keeps you in check, I know for a fact that you will kill your own allies! You are nothing but a pest to the Marines!!”

Summoning every ounce of remaining strength, you extend your hand toward the tanto while he continues to choke the life out of you, his focus consumed by his own aggression. With a swift, desperate motion, you seize the blade and plunge it into his arm, eliciting a guttural cry of pain as he releases his grip on your neck. As he recoils in agony, a fleeting sense of relief washes over you, knowing that survival still remains within your grasp.

You take a moment to let air return to your lungs, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Combs, grimacing in pain, removes the tanto from his arm and hastily plugs the wound with his hand, desperation evident in his actions as he tries to stem the flow of blood.

As Combs writhes in pain, your strength gradually returns, bolstering your resolve to end this confrontation. Though not fully restored, you sense it's enough to seize control of the situation. With a forceful shove, you push him off you and grab his shoulders, propelling yourself forward in a lunge full of rage.

A blood-curdling scream pierces through Kozari's ears, causing him to stumble backwards, his legs weakening beneath him. Goosebumps rise across his body, his heart pounding rapidly, not from exhaustion, but from the creeping dread that begins to take hold. He's seen plenty of violence in his life, but perhaps it's the animalistic look in your eyes that terrifies him deeply.

He hears heavy footsteps echoing from the distance, and in a moment of heightened awareness, Kozari quickly realizes that a group of people is approaching. Marines...? But as he focuses even more, his perception sharpens, revealing that it's just one man making his way towards them.

That's right, Combs mentioned it to him before. An Admiral was sent to this island too.

Taking one last glance at Combs, he tightly shuts his eyes, attempting to banish the haunting image from his mind. With the admiral fast approaching, every second is precious, leaving no room for hesitation. “Fuck. I need to go,” he mutters under his breath. Turning on his heels, he breaks into a sprint, his senses heightened as he races towards exit.

He needs to get away.

From you.

A long branch extends from a distance, finding its way towards you and wraps around your entire body.

As you struggle against the strong hold, the rough bark scrapes uncomfortably against your skin, intensifying your determination to break free. With a surge of effort, you manage to push one of your arms from the grip, feeling a momentary sense of relief. As your fingers close around the tanto retrieved from Combs earlier, you raise your hand high and prepare to strike, aiming to sever the branch and gain your freedom.

The blade approaches closer to the branch but stops just an inch away. Something’s not right. It doesn't feel malicious.

This… is not an enemy.

"(Y/N)!" Aramaki's voice echoes through the forest, filled with urgency as he sprints towards you with all his might. Racing down the path, following the trail of his own branch, he catches a fleeting glimpse of another figure lying on the ground. Despite the momentary distraction, he forces himself to focus solely on reaching you, knowing there's no time to spare for anyone else. He'll save his congratulations for you, acknowledging your victory over Kozari once he ensures your safety.

Finally reaching close to you, he gently puts you down on the ground with his hand behind your back. “Hey, (Y/N)! Snap out of it! It's me!” He draws his attention towards the blood on your head and mouth. “Geez, what happened here? We need to get you treated, there's so much blood coming out of your mouth!”

As if experiencing a sudden power outage, you release your grip on the tanto, watching it tumble to the ground with a dull thud. A wave of exhaustion washes over you, rendering your entire body limp, as you succumb to the overwhelming weight of fatigue.

Not long after, other units begin to arrive, their presence punctuated by the sounds of hurried footsteps and radio chatter. Spotting the figure lying motionless on the ground, some of the units veer off to check on them, their training kicking in to assess the situation. Meanwhile, the rest of the team converges on you and Aramaki, prioritizing your well-being and the resolution of the immediate threat.

Foley had safely returned and told them about you. Not being able to contact you, they decided to follow your Vivre Card.

After a tense minute, a Seaman stumbles over to Aramaki, his movements frenzied and his entire body trembling with urgency. He stops to gasp for breath.

“What took you so long? Get a medic here, she's bleeding a lot!” Aramaki's voice rings out with a mix of frustration and concern as he issues urgent orders, cradling you carefully to prevent any further harm.

The Seaman notices your bloody mouth, and he reverts into silence as his mind slowly puts the pieces together. With a horrified look, he stutters, “Admiral…! Rear Admiral Combs' neck…”

“Combs? What the hell is he doing here!?”

His legs threaten to buckle beneath him, mirroring the same sense of fear and dread that Kozari had experienced, amplified a hundredfold. As an inexperienced soldier, he finds himself plunged into a world of violence and bloodshed, only scratching the surface of the horrors that lurk beneath. The rumours of that one Vice Admiral is proven to be true by his own eyes.

“That’s not her blood…!” he manages to choke out.

Aramaki was about to question the strange statement but was abruptly silenced as his gaze locked onto the scene unfolding in the distance. The medics maneuver Combs onto a gurney, and from afar, Aramaki catches a chillingly clear glimpse of Combs' bloodied neck, a conspicuous chunk missing from it.

“Hey, you're kidding me,” Aramaki mutters under his breath before looking back at you.

He extends a long branch from his finger, purposefully guiding it towards your mouth before delicately inserting it inside. With deliberate care, he presses down on your jaw, causing your mouth to hang open. Both of them watch in horror as a chunk of severed flesh tumbles to the ground.

“Holy shit…!”

Notes:

1. Sorry for the late update again. Got a major burnout and I kinda hate how I'm writing the story rn lol

2. Oda is going on a 3 week break but I'm hoping that I can at least release one chapter during that break cuz I've really messed up the release schedule now and I actually don't really like to keep my readers waiting, believe it or not

3. Okay I think it's time for me to clear up something in case you've misunderstood. No, she does not keep her tanto resting on her bare ass inside her pants. She stabs it THROUGH the fabric, much like how Aramaki does it with his sword. I just thought it would be funny to do that instead of keeping it the normal way tbh

4. I don't think this is canon compliant anymore...... I might have to remove that tag later 😭

Chapter 25: XXIV ; MURDER ALL YOUR MEMORY

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Murder Your Memory by Title Fight.

As you struggle to shake off the haze of unconsciousness, the sterile scent of the infirmary envelops you, mingling with the faint beeping of medical equipment. Blinking against the harsh light, faces blurred into focus, concerned murmurs filling the air.

“Ugh, what's with the crowd here…?” you croak, your voice strained from dehydration.

“Vice Admiral (Y/N)!”

As a gentle hand rests on your arm, you turn to your left to find a familiar woman standing beside you, attentively checking your pulse and other vital signs with practiced ease. She gives you a small smile as she does so. Her reassuring touch instantly calms your nerves.

“You’re… the one that helped me before, weren't you?” you ask, returning the smile, albeit a weak one.

“That was me, yes. You were out for three days, it's good to have you back, (Y/N)-san,” she says softly, her gaze shifting between you and the heart rate monitor. “Your pulse is looking good so far,” she continues. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Maybe a bit dizzy and a headache but I think I'm okay.”

“That’s good to hear, (Y/N),” someone says from your right, and you realize it's Sengoku. “For someone that faints a lot, you seem to be in good condition. That state of yours is a handful.”

Your eyes dart over to Sengoku, then to Aramaki next to him, and finally to Sakazuki. Your gaze locks with his, a sudden tension gripping the air as the monitor suddenly beeps, signaling a spike in your heart rate. You quickly avert your gaze, and your rate returns to normal.

“Oh dear, what was that? Are you sure you're alright?” the nurse asks, checking your wounds once again.

You don't answer, instead opting to stare at the blanket covering your lower body, the fabric feeling foreign and stifling against your skin. Biting your lip, you grip the bed sheets tightly, silently reprimanding your own heart for embarrassing you in front of everyone. Simultaneously, you thank the nurse for not being that bright.

As you try to regain your composure, a sudden but hazy memory flashes into your mind. You remember the sensation of being squeezed tight by rough material, the texture scratching against your skin like sandpaper. You recall swinging your tanto at it, the instinct to defend yourself kicking in, but stopping at the very last second. It was Aramaki that was holding you.

Stretching your hand, you gently tug on one of his fingers, concern evident in your voice. “Are you alright, Aramaki-han?”

Aramaki tilts his head to the side, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. “...Me? Yes, I'm alright. Why do you ask?”

Sakazuki watches silently, his arms folded close to his chest, an aura of tension radiating from his rigid posture. His head tilts down, hiding his eyes with the visor of his cap, while his jaw clenches with restrained emotion, hinting at the internal turmoil beneath his stoic exterior. Sengoku notices the shift in his demeanor.

You rub your head, attempting to soothe the persistent headache. “That’s good. My memories aren't very clear but I hope I didn't hurt you while I was out of it,” you say as you remove your hold on his finger.

Aramaki waves his hand dismissively into the air, “Oh, that? Nah, don't worry! You didn't hurt me. And even if you did, I'm a tough guy, y’know! A small cut from a regular blade is nothing I can't handle,” he reassures with a grin. You crack a smile, finally feeling the tension in your shoulders getting lifted off.

“If everything's in order, you can go now. Give us some privacy to talk,” Sakazuki suddenly says to the nurse. his stern tone intimidating her slightly. She nods silently and leaves the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click, leaving all four of you to converse in private. He turns to face you, “Do you remember anything else?” he asks.

His eyes carry an unmistakable weight, a gravity that seems to press down upon you. You sense it in your very bones, but you aren't brave enough to meet his stare. You resist the urge, not trusting your own heart to beat normally if confronted with the intensity of his eyes.

Just as you are about to answer, Aramaki suddenly interjects. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, but don't you think we should let her collect her thoughts for a minute?” He rubs his nape. “I mean, she just woke up from a three day coma. Wouldn’t want to get your brain overwhelmed with the questions now, right, (Y/N)?”

Sakazuki frowns, briefly contemplating the suggestion. “Do you need some time, Vice Admiral?” he asks, his tone surprisingly less stern than before.

Finally getting over the embarrassment you felt from earlier, you lift your head to meet his eyes. Another spike in your heart rate is heard from the beep on the monitor but you decide to push through, despite seeing everyone else in the room noticing the change in your heart rate. “Oh, no, it's okay… I'm coherent enough, I think.”

Closing your eyes tightly, you try to recall everything that had happened from the beginning of your mission up to meeting Kozari in the forest. You remember successfully rescuing Foley, only to be captured in the process. As Kozari tightens the rope he had tied you with behind your back, he shouted out something. Behind that tree was…

“Combs…” your mouth moves on its own, trembling as it speaks his name, the bitterness evident in your voice. That damn traitor! You open your eyes, anger flashing in your gaze. “That’s right, Combs… He—!”

Your sentence was cut short when your headache suddenly intensified tenfold, a searing pressure that feels like having your skull squeezed without mercy. You grip your head with your hands, your nails digging deep into your scalp in a desperate attempt to alleviate the agony. The pain is unbearable, causing your breathing to become heavier, each breath a struggle against the throbbing ache in your head.

“If you need to rest for a bit then say so, Vice Admiral.”

“N-no, he…”

“You killed him.”

The ache slowly leaves your head, only to be replaced with a loud, deafening ringing. Your heart picks up its pace.

Sengoku glances down at the floor, sighing heavily. “The reason why Combs was there on that island in the first place is unknown but…” He lifts his head, meeting your gaze with a disapproving expression. “(Y/N), this is not something that can be swept under the rug. You have killed a fellow Marine officer. That itself is a heavy crime within the Marine.”

Before you could say another word, the door suddenly swings open, revealing an exasperated Marine with Zoom in his hand. Judging by the headphones resting on the sides of his neck, he is clearly someone from the Communications Department. With a quick glance at the scene before him, he purses his lips, clearly hesitant to interrupt.

“Pardon me for interrupting! Fleet Admiral Sakazuki… I'm here to report!!” The Marine's voice trembles with apprehension as he speaks, clearly wary of Sakazuki's imposing presence. Sakazuki doesn't say anything, his silence serves as a cue for the man to continue with his report. “We found this Den Den Mushi not far away from the scene. It belongs to Vice Admiral (Y/N)!”

Sakazuki squints his eyes. “What of it?”

“Well, we found that she had recorded a call with Admiral Ryokugyu. The beginning is incomprehensible but…”

“Play it!” Sakazuki orders, almost too quickly. The man sets down Zoom on a table, hitting a playback button on its shell and raises the volume.

And so Zoom replays the recording. It begins with a call you had made with Aramaki, but your voice was too far to pick up properly. Not long after, they hear a conversation taking place but it was also hard to hear and even harder to understand. It goes quiet for a few seconds before rough noises take place and it goes on for a while. Then, there's a loud thump.

“Just die already, (Y/N)! If no one keeps you in check, I know for a fact that you will kill your own allies! You are nothing but a pest to the Marines!!”

Amidst the chaos, a muffled stab reverberated through the air, accompanied by the grim splatter of blood. Moments later, a piercing scream shattered the silence, followed by guttural gurgles as flesh was torn violently. Then, an eerie hush descended, cloaking the aftermath in unsettling silence.

“Fucking hell…! Sakazuki-san, there's really no mistaking it. That Combs was the one leaking information on our guys!” Aramaki's voice roars with frustration as he realizes the extent of treachery within their ranks.

“...Yeah. At least he was dealt with.” Sakazuki tuts. “That will surely put a stop to Kozari's tyranny, be it temporarily.”

Sengoku lets out a sigh, letting his round glasses fall to the tip of his nose to massage the bridge. “It’s always something with you, (Y/N). I am rather conflicted on the ethics of the things you do. So far, the only lives you've taken are criminals. But the sheer brutality that comes with it, admittedly, creeped out even an old man like me.”

To think that even a veteran like Sengoku is disturbed by the things you do, there's so much shame in it. You do not like violence but it is part of you and it can never be removed. To be burdened by your actions and your heavy conscience feels like a sin of being born as a Kradvine.

“Is it so bad?”

You look up, realizing the voice came from Sakazuki. “Fleet Admiral…?”

“What Combs did was unforgivable. He was a traitor to the Marines! If anything, Vice Admiral, you did good.” Despite that angry look on his face, your heart still finds a way to skip a beat the moment you hear his praise for you. “It was a fitting death for someone like him. I don't need any pathetic losers like that fool Combs posing as a Marine and tainting our image!!”

You don't say anything. You don't know what to say. Maybe he's right, Combs was a damn bastard that made you have to fight back the urge to gouge his eyes out every time he opens his mouth. Because of him, countless innocents were hurt. It's only logical for him to meet the same demise as the victims.

So why does your heart feel so heavy?

You are not a killer, but by nature, you are.

“In any case, I am sure that this will be a solid piece of evidence for betrayal on Combs' part. With this, I can guarantee that you won't be prosecuted, Vice Admiral.” He turns his gaze to the nervous man. “Take this back and submit the recording as evidence,” he instructs firmly.

“Take a rest, (Y/N),” Sengoku says gently, his tone softening with empathy. “Forgive us for interviewing you right after you woke up. We will have to discuss more of this later but for now, take this time to relax and gather your thoughts.”

Sengoku exits the room, followed closely by the Communications Department guy, their footsteps echoing faintly in the corridor. Aramaki lingers for a moment longer, offering you a small wave as a bid of farewell before quietly slipping out the door. As the latch clicks shut, you realize Sakazuki doesn't make a move to leave as well, instead standing still at the side of your bed.

He appears to be more relaxed, as seen by his tense shoulders subtly dropping. You swallow an empty lump in your throat, your gaze fixated on him, wondering why he's still here.

Alone in the room together once more, restlessness grips you as tightly as before. You can't shake the feeling that he's already noticed the spike in your heart rate from the monitor, and the thought alone is enough to send a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

And that look in his eyes…

“I truly believe you did the right thing, Vice Admiral,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. But to you, it was loud. Loud as the poundings of your own heart.

After what feels like an eternity, Sakazuki finally breaks eye contact, his eyes shifting towards the door as he begins to move away. You muster up the courage to reach out and grab his hand before he can leave. Your heart skips a beat. You could have grasped his sleeve or his coat, but somehow, your hand instinctively finds his.

It just feels… right.

Sakazuki halts abruptly in place, his head turns towards you. Your battered form, wrapped in bandages, paints a grim picture. But the dark imprints of Combs' hands on your neck disturbed him the most. Once again he is reminded of the nightmare he had and the awful realization of how fragile a human’s neck is. His jaw clenches, silently thanking the universe for getting rid of that good-for-nothing Combs.

“Did you really mean that?”

The weight of those pained eyes, locked onto him, left him unable to turn away. You are doubting yourself. What lies within those eyes? Perhaps a mix of guilt, seeking forgiveness, and the weight of regret. It's as if the heart bears a heavy burden, overwhelmed by emotions too strong for a person like you could handle.

A person like you... shouldn't have to bear the weight of guilt and bloodshed. Those gentle hands of yours aren't made to suffocate yourself in the prison of your own mind.

Vice Admiral. In this hell we call our world, I could only hope you don't lose yourself to it.

He doesn't answer. But the way his eyes fall on you, conveys everything that needs to be said. It's clear, without uttering a word, that he meant it.

“I… am glad to see you returned.”

Maybe it's the lingering effects of your recent unconsciousness, but you could've sworn you felt the subtle squeeze of his hand.

Without a word, he finally leaves the room, leaving you to wonder if that really happened or your brain is messed up from passing out so much. Staring at your hand, you could still feel it. His warmth, and the pressure.

Your heart races erratically, your breath catching in your throat as each beat serves as a reminder of the electrifying touch that still lingers on your skin. Hand pressed to your chest, you feel its rapid thumpings.

Even with those rough hands of his, worn out by years of battle and war, his hands retained a surprising delicacy to the touch. Your hands tremble at the thought, longing to be held once more.

 

---

 

“That was a close call.” Aramaki groans, shaking his head. “I’m not saying it's good that the bastard was a traitor but damn, it really saved (Y/N). Sengoku-san wasn't happy when he heard the news but seems like he's fine now.”

Aramaki looks at Sakazuki, his eyebrows raising as he surveys the troubled lines etched on the Fleet Admiral's face. With a resigned sigh, Sakazuki retrieves a cigar, its tip glowing orange as he lights it up.

“What’s with the sour face?”

Sakazuki exhales the smoke. “That state does have the ability to distinguish allies from foes.”

Seeing him smoke, Aramaki pulls out a cigarette. “Yeah, that's a good thing, is it not?” he muses, wedging the cigarette between his fingers.

“It is. But that's precisely what those guys wanted to hear,” Sakazuki mutters through clenched teeth, his grip on the cigar tightening as frustration simmers beneath the surface. “Bastards.” With a clenched jaw, he exhales another plume of smoke into the air.

“Those guys… You mean the Five Elders?” Aramaki hisses, lowering his voice as he utters their name.

“It won't be long before they start pestering me again. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep her away from them.” His eyes narrow into thin slits, brimming with frustration. “So damn persistent in making her a human weapon to do all their dirty work. It's so fuckin’ annoying!”

Aramaki doesn't respond. He lights up his cigarette with a lighter. With a deep inhale, he draws in the bitter comfort of nicotine, exhaling a cloud of smoke that hangs heavy in the air.

“But you won't let them touch (Y/N),” he says. “Right?”

Sakazuki's fist tightens, recalling vividly the sensation of your touch, a memory that refuses to fade. If the mere touch of their tainted hands (or any men for that matter) threatens to corrupt you, he is willing to go to any lengths to keep you safe. In this cruel, unforgiving world, you deserve to see the light; in the name of justice.

“I won't let that happen.”

Notes:

1. Hi guys sorry for late update and short chapter, was too busy writing and publishing another fic (it was actually writer's block)

2. Google Docs wouldn't allow me to open the file for this fic and that shit pissed me off so badly that I couldn't even write until I reach the minimum word count bro I'm so mad FUCK

3. Eid was boring prob because it's my dad's side but good to know that I'm still young enough to get that eid money 🤑

Chapter 26: XXV ; PEACE OF MIND, IT'S A BIT TOO LATE

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Nothing At All by Foo Fighters.

As Cain removes his keys from the lock, he lets out a tired sigh. He pushes the door open and steps inside, the day's weariness evident in his movements. After closing the door behind him, he gingerly hangs his coat on the rack.

He makes his way over to the mirror hanging on the wall, bringing his hands up to loosen the tie wrapped around his neck. He combs a hand through his messy hair, breathing out a tired sigh. He studies his reflection, eyes running over tired features.

“Did anyone ever teach you about entering someone's place without permission, Kozari?” Cain grits out, his expression hardening with each word. He turns his head over his shoulder, his eyes glaring at the man sitting leisurely on the couch only a few feet behind him.

Kozari, seemingly unfazed, leans back against the couch, a smug smile playing at his lips. “Alright, you caught me. That was pretty quick,” he says, his tone light and mocking. He crosses his arms casually over his chest, as if he’s merely a guest who’s overstayed his welcome rather than an intruder.

Kozari's nonchalance only fuels Cain's annoyance. “You moved the mat at the door,” he comments, his gaze flicking briefly to the dark red mat on the floor, now slightly askew. Breathing out another sigh, he walks to his desk and drops into his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. “What do you want now?” he asks, his voice tinged with frustration and weariness.

Kozari shrugs, pushing off the couch and sauntering over to the desk. He casually picks up a paperweight from the desk, turning it over in his hands as if inspecting it. “I’m just here for a little chat, Cain,” he drawls, his voice smooth and unruffled. “Got some questions to ask. You don’t mind, do you? You don’t look too busy.”

Cain’s jaw tightens as he watches Kozari handle the paperweight, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. He snatches the papers away from his hands and slams them down harshly on the desk. “Questions?” Cain repeats, his eyes narrowing. “Then make it quick. I did not come back here to entertain you all day.”

“Don’t be so moody. It'll make you look even older.” He takes out a rolled-up paper and places it deliberately on Cain's desk. He unrolls it, revealing a weathered wanted poster of (Y/N), the edges creased from handling. “Met her not too long ago,” he remarks. “I heard you're the one who bumped the bounty on her head.”

A subtle look of surprise flashes through Cain's eyes. Kozari hums with intrigue, noticing the quick change.

“So what?”

“Why’d you do that? Do you know her? Does it have something to do with that state of hers?”

A grimace flickers across Cain's face as he holds up a hand. “Slow down with the questions,“ he exhales sharply. “You're overloading my brain.”

“My bad. I guess your brain is going senile if it's overwhelmed by three questions,” Kozari retorts, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

Kozari grins. “Take a joke, old man.”

“...Tch. Why do you want to know so much, anyway?” Cain asks with a scoff, his brow furrowing. He leans back slightly in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he fixes Kozari with a penetrating gaze. "What are you planning now?”

Kozari looks down at the poster on the desk, his eyes lingering on the image of you. “Her eyes look different than the ones I saw that day," he says, tracing a finger over the face captured in the wanted poster. He lifts his gaze to meet Cain's, a mixture of fascination and unease in his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot. Never seen such an intriguing but also terrifying woman before,” he continues. “She went and killed my rat like some kind of starved animal.”

Cain doesn't say a word. If anything, he's surprised to even see Kozari alive and standing before him after witnessing that state not as her ally.

“I asked around,” he begins, removing his finger from the poster. “Apparently, she was born with it. She has this ability to just pass out and kill everybody she sees, like a kill switch.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation before continuing, “And here's the kicker: so far, she's only targeted criminals. It's like her power has a moral compass of its own, targeting those who have broken the law.”

"Isn't that something?" Kozari adds, an amused smirk curling his lips. "A lethal ability that conveniently aligns with justice.”

There is still a subtle but unmistakable fear in Kozari's eyes, accompanied by a faint tremor in his hands that Cain notices with a frown. Whatever he saw that day must've been horrible to have its effect lingering till now.

“You’ve taken a liking to her, I'm guessing,” Cain says, a hint of curiosity colouring his voice.

“She has great potential. It's a shame to see someone of her caliber in the Marines. She's simply aligned with the wrong side of justice, but with her skills, she could be making a far greater impact elsewhere,” Kozari says.

Cain raises a skeptical eyebrow. “So, you think she's on the 'wrong side' of things? Are you suggesting you'd prefer her to join your cause instead?”

Kozari falls into a heavy silence, his jaw tightening with evident frustration. “To be under Akainu's command is a betrayal of justice,” he mutters, his gaze turning distant as he clenches his fist. “With someone as strong as her, I'm sure I'll achieve my goal in no time. She deserves to fight for a cause that upholds true justice, not one tainted by corruption.”

She’d have your head on a platter if she heard you say that, Cain thinks to himself.

“I have my own reasons for why I raised that price on her head,” Cain states firmly. “And I'd really appreciate it if you don't pry into my personal matters.”

Kozari's expression shifts to one of mild amusement, a wry smile appears on his lips. “Huh, I see. The tie runs deep, so it seems,” he muses aloud. “I wonder what exactly she is to you. Another spy, perhaps? Maybe a lover? Or maybe a daughter—”

His questions are abruptly silenced when a sudden gust of wind brushes against his cheek. Startled, he instinctively turns, only to find a small knife embedded firmly into the wall just behind him. The blade quivers slightly, a testament to its recent flight through the air. Kozari, recovering from his surprise, glances back at Cain.

Cain remains composed, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of intensity dances in his eyes. “I said,” he remarks evenly, his voice carrying a steely edge, “don’t pry into my personal matters.”

“A tad too overdramatic, don't you think?” he asks lightly, though the tension in his voice betrays his attempt at nonchalance.

“Should’ve listened, then, brat.”

Kozari sighs at his reaction. He knows Cain missed it on purpose.

"It's taken me considerable effort to gather all this information," he admits. “Would've been a lot faster if your little mole would've just agreed to join my side. Think you can try and persuade him for me?”

Cain scoffs, a faint smirk on his lips. "Don't bother," he replies confidently. "Jay owes me his life, and that loyalty runs deep. He'll see this through to the very end, no doubts there.”

“Hm. Too bad.”

Just then, the lock of Cain's office door clicks open, drawing both their attention towards the entrance. Jay steps inside, dressed in a casual maroon t-shirt and jeans instead of the usual formal attire he adorns. His Marine coat is absent, leaving him looking more like an ordinary civilian than a Marine officer.

“Speak of the devil,” he coos. He casts a wry smile towards Cain, his eyes glinting with a mischievousness. “I guess I'll take my leave for now. I'll have to come up with better questions next time. In the meantime,” he adds, his tone teasing yet edged with a hint of caution, “you might want to hone your throwing skills.”

With a dismissive flick of his hand, Kozari spins on his heel and leisurely strolls away and out of the office.

“What is his deal?” Jay mutters under his breath as he watches Kozari disappear out the door. He turns back to Cain, his expression serious. “There's a problem, Cain. You might want to consider halting the distribution of the REIGNs for the time being.”

Cain lets out a low, frustrated groan, his head falling back against the headrest of his chair with a heavy thud. He rubs his temples wearily before meeting Jay's eyes with a resigned expression. “Okay, great. Another headache to deal with. What is it this time?”

Jay hesitates for a moment, gauging Cain's mood before continuing cautiously. “Apparently, someone who's not a client stirred up trouble in his town. The Marines nabbed him, and during the search, they found REIGNs in his pocket—a substantial stash was also uncovered at his house.”

“Damn it,” Cain quickly mutters.

He continues, “Normally, this wouldn't be a problem I couldn't solve quickly, but they're relentless in their pursuit of more REIGNs. They're organizing ambushes, targeting anyone associated with us, and intensifying their efforts to track you down for good.”

Cain's jaw tightens as he absorbs Jay's words, his mind racing through the implications of the escalating threat. “Well, that certainly is annoying. They're getting bolder,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Jay. “I’ll find a way to solve this predicament, but it sure would make it hell of a lot easier if you’d stop holding yourself back.”

Jay meets Cain's resolute gaze with a stare of his own, He knows deep down that Cain is right, yet it is a bitter pill to swallow.

Cain sighs softly, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his mind. "And I do kind of miss your blond hair,” he says. “It's getting long, isn't it? Time flies.”

His gaze shifts downward, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. “Forget it,” he mutters softly, his voice tinged with regret. “I've long abandoned that version of myself. I'd rather not go back to bleaching my hair again.”

He sighs quietly. “I don't enjoy fights anymore,” Jay continues, his voice carrying a weight of introspection. “And I know you don't need the burden of looking after someone who can't control themselves again.”

Cain's lips press into a thin line at the sight of his troubled face, “You're greatly underestimating me,” he asserts firmly. “Both you and (Y/N) were problem kids in the past but I did just fine. Nothing this old man can't handle.”

 

---

 

“N-No, wait, I can explain!”

“Then get to it,” Jay demands, his voice hardening as he takes a step forward. “This isn't the first time you've betrayed our trust. Wasn't the first warning enough, Barnet?” His hand moves with practiced precision, loading his flintlock.

“He only wanted a taste, and I gave it to him,” Barnet stammers, his voice trembling. "We’re longtime friends. I didn’t think that idiot would go and steal my stash!”

Jay's grip tightens around the flintlock as he presses the tip firmly against his own forehead, his eyebrows furrowing. “You knew what you signed up for,” he asserts. “You’re not allowed to distribute it to someone else who is not a client already.”

Barnet's voice cracks with frustration as he paces back and forth, his hands trembling with fear. “I wasn't distributing it, you asshole!” he exclaims, his words echoing off the grimy walls of the alley. “It was just a taste, I couldn't say no! Can't you just let this slide for once?”

He pauses, trying to steady his breathing, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins makes it nearly impossible. The dim street light above cast deep shadows across his face, highlighting the desperation.

“Besides,” Barnet continues, his tone bitter, “what kind of stupid rule is that? Someone like Vehemoth shouldn't have been the boss.” He spits out the name with disdain. “Did he think he could control all his clients like some obedient dogs?”

“Now you're crossing the line. Watch your words,” Jay interjects with a heavy sigh. “Because of your actions, all operations had to be abruptly halted. We're now at serious risk of the Marines swooping in and dismantling everything, including capturing him.” Jay paused, letting the gravity of the situation sink in.

“Do you still not understand?” he continues, his tone a blend of disappointment and urgency. “This isn't something we can just overlook. I'll have to deal with you accordingly, and I promise you, it won't be pretty.”

Barnet’s eyes widen in disbelief and dread. His voice trembles slightly as he speaks. “You don't mean... you're going to…” He struggles to find the right words, fear and realization clouding his thoughts.

“I can't let you live,” Jay's voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade, each word measured and final. His usually warm eyes are now cold, devoid of any hint of sympathy or mercy. They gleam with apathy, the kind that belongs to a killer.

Barnet's breath catches in his throat, his mind reeling as he tries to comprehend the severity of Jay's statement. “Jay, please…” Barnet's voice falters, desperation creeping into his tone. "There must be another way. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. You're not seriously killing me over a minor mistake, are you?”

“Some mistakes are able to be forgiven. And some… can only be rectified by death.”

Jay's fingers tightens around the worn grip of the flintlock pistol, his eyes narrowing as he levels the barrel at Barnet's chest. With a sharp click, the trigger was pulled, and the air split with a deafening blast. Barnet, sensing the danger milliseconds before the shot, dove to his left with instinctive agility, the bullet whistling past where he had stood just moments before.

Not wasting a moment, Jay adjusts his aim and squeezes the trigger once more. With another resounding crack, the pistol discharges again, but this time the bullet finds only the earth, embedding itself just inches from where Barnet's boots are.

“You—!”

“I’d prefer to end this quicker, so quit moving.”

“Son of a bitch! I'm not letting you kill me that easily!”

Jay's shot echoes through the stillness, a sharp crack splitting the tense air. Yet, even as the bullet whizzed wide, missing its mark by a mile, Barnet couldn't suppress a dry, mocking laugh that escaped his lips. His heart pounds in his chest like a frenzied drumbeat, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but amidst the danger, there is an undeniable irony that tickles his senses.

It wasn't just the miss that amused him; it was the entire absurdity of the situation, the stark contrast between the intensity of the moment and the futility of Jay's attempt.

"Look at you," Barnet scoffs, his breath ragged from the adrenaline. "You can't even aim right after all those threats. All bark and no bite.”

Jay's gaze falls upon his flintlock, the realization sinking in that it is now devoid of bullets. Disappointment flashes across his face before he releases an exhale of frustration. With a swift motion, he tosses the spent weapon behind him, the clatter of metal muffled by the ground. His eyes meet Barnet's once more.

“Looks like I’ll have to train more.”

Before Barnet could respond, Jay lunges forward. The speed wouldn't register in his head and when he is close to realizing it, he feels an immense pain under his jaw and a force that sends him backwards to the wall behind him.

Before Barnet could react, Jay lunges forward. The speed of his movement barely registers in his mind. In the split second before impact, realization dawns on him, but it was too late.

The force of the blow sends Barnet stumbling backwards, his back colliding hard against the unforgiving wall behind him. He gasps for breath, the taste of blood filling his mouth as he struggles to regain his footing. The world spins around him for a moment, disorienting and chaotic. As he leans against the wall, Barnet's mind races to assess the damage, his face throbbing with each heartbeat.

"W-What..." Barnet manages to rasp out, his voice strained and hoarse. The intense pain radiates through his face and body, rendering him unable to speak. He struggles to form coherent thoughts amidst the overwhelming sensation of agony that grips him.

His vision blurs momentarily as he fights to regain his composure, the taste of blood lingering in his mouth from the impact. Every movement sends spikes of pain through his senses.

Jay steps closer, his knuckles stained with Barnet's blood. He retrieves a cigarette from his pocket, hands steady despite the aftermath of the scuffle. He lights it up, the flickering flame momentarily illuminating his face in an eerie glow in the dark of the alley. As he takes a deep drag, the smoke floats up to the sky.

“You’re right. I can't shoot worth a damn,” he admits, the cigarette bobbing slightly between his teeth as he speaks. With a sudden movement, he reaches out and grabs a handful of Barnet's hair, pulling him closer with a firm grip. “I’m more of a puncher anyway.”

Jay's hand retracts from Barnet's hair in a swift, calculated motion before striking him squarely in the face. Without pause, he unleashes a relentless barrage of punches, each blow landing with precision and force. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the air, punctuated by Barnet's grunts of pain. Jay's knuckles feel like solid metal against Barnet's skin, each strike leaving its mark that won't go away in a week.

Blood spatters in erratic patterns, mingling with the sweat and tears that stream down Barnet's bruised and swollen face. His attempts to block or evade are feeble against Jay's ferocity and speed. The world seems to spin around him, the pain becoming a relentless, throbbing pulse that drowns out all other sensations.

Jay's expression remains cold and determined, his movements fueled by a mix of rage and control. Each punch carries a raw intensity, a primal release of pent-up frustration and aggression. The cigarette still smoldered between his teeth, a grim juxtaposition against the brutality of his actions.

“S-Stop…” Barnet chokes out between labored breaths, his voice barely above a whisper amidst the relentless onslaught. “I'm sorry... Please don't kill me. Please.”

Jay's fists pauses mid-air, his breathing heavy with exertion and adrenaline. He stands before Barnet, his knuckles raw and bloodied, his expression a mask of conflicted emotions. He couldn't recognize Barnet's face anymore, his face a mosaic of bruises and swelling.

“It's really unfortunate it has to end this way,” Jay mutters, his voice carrying regret and resignation. He stands with his back to Barnet, “You should've been smarter.”

He walks purposefully over to where he had discarded his flintlock. With a practiced motion, he retrieves the firearm, his fingers tracing over its familiar contours. Shoving a hand into his pocket, he withdraws a singular bullet, holding it up briefly before inserting it into the chamber with a steady hand. The click of the bullet slotting into place echoes softly. He closes the chamber with a decisive click, the weight of the weapon heavy in his hand as he turns back towards Barnet.

“This isn't right,” Barnet pleads. He struggles to lift his head, blood streaking his face from the earlier blows. “You're a Marine. And a doctor too at that. You can't do this. You can't kill a civilian...!”

Jay stands in front of Barnet, the flintlock still in his hand but now wavering slightly. His eyebrows furrow as he wrestles with Barnet's words, the weight of his identity pressing down on him.

Living with a dual identity weighs heavily on him, a burden he never found solace in. The constant questioning of his motives—whether his actions stemmed from genuine conviction or were merely to appease the conflicting demands of his roles—torments him.

Jay levels the flintlock at Barnet's head. The cold metal of the firearm feels like an extension of the weight pressing down on his conflicted soul, its barrel aiming unwaveringly at the center—an instant way out. His grip on the flintlock tightens, his knuckles white with the strain of the decision before him.

“I am none of those,” he utters in a quieter tone. “I am just someone living to pay back what I owed.”

“No— Don't do this… I beg you! Jay!”

“I’m not a good shooter, but I never miss a point blank.”

He pulls the trigger.

Barnet's body slumps to the floor with a heavy thud. For a moment, he lay still, the only movement a faint twitch before stillness envelops him completely.

Jay stands frozen as he stares unflinchingly at Barnet's lifeless form. Emotion has long since drained from his features, leaving behind a hollow emptiness that echoes in the depths of his soul. He feels nothing. Not anymore. This isn't the first time he has been here, facing the aftermath of violence he has inflicted, and he knows it won't be the last.

As blood oozes out from Barnet's forehead, Jay catches a distorted glimpse of his own reflection mirrored in the crimson pool.

Is that supposed to be me?

“...fuck.”

I don't know who I am.

 

---

 

Lying on the infirmary's uncomfortable bed all day leaves your body stiff and sore. The persistent ache in your muscles finally drives you to get up and take a slow, cautious walk. The infirmary is quiet, the soft beeping of machines the only sound breaking the silence.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed sends a wave of discomfort through you. Every movement sends jolts of pain through your limbs, but you persevere. With each step, you feel the stiffness starting to ease, though the numbness lingers stubbornly.

The linoleum floor feels cool beneath your feet, a welcome change from the sterile sheets you've been lying on for what feels like an eternity.

After a brief stroll around the headquarters, you decide it's time to return to the infirmary.The familiar halls are quieter now, with most personnel having retired to their barracks. The occasional chore boys and those on night duty pass by, their footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridors.

Walking down the corridor, you pass by Combs' office. It's evident they haven't cleaned it yet; his name is still prominently plastered on the door.

It isn't locked, so you take a peek inside by opening the door slightly. It's dark, but the moonlight filtering through the window illuminates his desk, casting long shadows across the scattered papers and glinting off the edge of a framed photograph.

For a moment, you feel oddly somber. Perhaps it's the darkness of the room, accentuated by the moonlight, or maybe it's the realization that the person to whom this room belongs is no longer alive.

And you can see a few flowers scattered across the desk. Not many, because the news had spread quickly about what he had done. The room feels heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unfinished business. Standing there in the dimly lit office, you're struck by a sudden pang of guilt. As terrible of a person he was, he was still someone. And when you are someone, people will mourn you regardless.

You look down at your hands.

I wonder… if I deserve to be mourned for.

As you stand there, lost in thought while peering into Combs' office, a firm yet respectful pat on your shoulder interrupts your thoughts. “Vice Admiral (Y/N)!”

His presence in the corridor, marked by the contrast of his injuries against the naval uniform, you can't help but wonder what's his story. Or why he's not asleep yet in that rough state.

“What is it?” you ask, closing the door to Combs' office.

The man, despite the bandages and the solemnity of the moment, manages a sheepish smile. “It's just... I'm really glad to see you,” he confesses quietly, his voice tinged with genuine gratitude. “And I apologize for disturbing you this late at night. I've always wanted to talk to you.”

“It's fine,” you assure him with a reassuring nod, sensing his sincerity. “Do you need something?”

The Seaman hesitates briefly, as if contemplating how best to express his thoughts. His gaze shifts for a moment, focusing on a distant point down the corridor before returning to meet yours with renewed resolve. “(Y/N)-san, I want to thank you.”

You're momentarily taken aback, a flicker of confusion crossing your face at his unexpected words. His sincerity is evident, though, and you quickly compose yourself.

“About Vice Admiral Combs… I know it's unprofessional of me to say this to my superior,” he continues with a hesitant pause, “but I'm really glad he's not here anymore. I heard about what happened.” There's an honest albeit awkward look in his eyes.

You look away, feeling a pang discomfort at his gratitude. “No... You shouldn't thank me for that,” you murmur softly, your gaze drifting to a distant point down the corridor.

His words settle heavily in your chest. Having someone express gratitude for a situation involving loss of life always evokes a complex array of emotions within you. It's not the first time you've faced such sentiments, but it never feels quite right.

“Really, I'm thankful for what you did,” he insists, his voice carrying both gratitude and sorrow. “Because of him, I lost my brother. Even before all this traitor thing, he was really harsh with the rookies. All of us let it slide, we thought it was necessary for us to grow to be soldiers. I've come to realize that it was just an abuse of power.”

You stay silent.

“On behalf of those that were victims, I want to give you our appreciation,” he says earnestly, his voice steady despite the emotion behind his words. “You're... our hero.”

To be thought of as a hero is something you never anticipated. You struggle to find the right words to convey the depth of your feelings. “I…” you trail off, your voice catching slightly as you pause to gather your thoughts. But nothing comes up.

“Please don't beat yourself up over it, (Y/N)-san. You did the right thing,” the Seaman says earnestly, offering reassurance. “I apologize for taking your time again. I'll take my leave now. Goodnight, Vice Admiral…”

“Right,” you say, finally finding your voice. “Goodnight.”

As the Seaman nods in acknowledgment and quietly makes his way down the dimly lit corridor, his presence fades into the shadows. Watching him disappear from your sight, you find yourself pondering the impact of your actions. Did what happened serve as a form of solace or justice for those who were wronged? Did they contribute to a sense of closure or vindication for those who suffered under Combs' hatred?

Maybe, just maybe, you begin to consider, there was some semblance of rightness in your decisions.

You continue to walk back to the infirmary, the soft cadence of your footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors of the headquarters.

Once you arrive, the infirmary greets you with its familiar sights and sounds—a nurse bustling around your bed, her expression fraught with concern. As she catches sight of you, a wave of relief washes over her features, evident in the deep sigh that escapes her lips.

“There you are, Vice Admiral!” she exclaims. "I was worried sick.”

You offer her a small smile. “I'm here,” you reply calmly, moving closer to the bed where she had been so anxiously focused. “Sorry. My legs were going numb, I had to take a small walk.”

“That’s alright,” the nurse says, her tone gentle. “It's very late now. Why don't you sleep? You need to rest.”

“Yeah, sure. I'll do that.” As you approach your bed, your attention is drawn to a clipboard resting atop the sterile sheets. “Is this mine?” you ask, picking up the clipboard.

“Ah, wait—!”

Her movements stop short as she notices you reading through the contents of the clipboard. The nurse's gaze flickers briefly towards the clipboard in your hands before she swallows, her throat tightening visibly.

You turn to the nurse, a faint tremble in your voice as you ask, “What's this?”

“I-I’m very sorry…”

“Is this true? And no one told me?” you ask with urgency in your voice as you press the nervous nurse for answers. The clipboard in your hand feels heavier now, heavy like your heart.

She bites her lip, her gaze shifting uneasily to the floor. “Sakazuki-san told me not to tell you. I'm sorry…” Her voice trails off.

“Oh,” you respond with a nod, carefully placing the clipboard back on the bed. Internally, your heart quickens its pace, but outwardly you maintain your composure. “I need to go to the restroom,” you add calmly, masking any hint of unease in your voice.

“Ah, okay… It's that way.” Her voice wavered slightly as she gestures towards the door, located just a few meters away. She knows that the information withheld is disturbing you on the inside, but she knows better than to mention it.

“Thanks,” you mutter quickly as you make your way towards the restroom.

Spotting the restroom sign ahead, you quicken your pace, the door swinging open with a soft creak as you enter. You head straight for the nearest stall.

Inside the sanctuary of the stall, you close the door behind you and lean against it, the cold metal offering a fleeting sense of security. Your knees buckle beneath you, and you sink to the ground, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Gripping the edges of the toilet bowl tightly, you close your eyes, attempting to steady yourself against the overwhelming wave of nausea.

The unsettling information plays on a loop in your mind, each detail a sharp dagger twisting in your gut.

(Y/N) consumed a bit of human flesh.

The world seems to spin around you as you double over, the need to purge becoming unbearable. With a primal urgency, you vomit into the porcelain bowl, each retch accompanied by a rush of bile and a deep, guttural sound reverberating through the stall.

Your head hurts. Your stomach hurts. And after all that, your throat hurts and is now disgustingly dry.

After expelling the last of the unsettling remnants, you rise slowly, feeling the cool relief of the restroom air against your clammy skin. With deliberate steps, you make your way to the sink. Turning on the faucet, you let the water run, the sound a soothing backdrop to the chaos still echoing in your mind.

Bending over the sink, you cup your hands, scooping up the cool water and bringing it to your face. You scrub furiously at your mouth, trying to rid yourself of the acrid taste that lingers despite your efforts.

It doesn't matter how hard you try to clean yourself. You feel disgusting anyway. Everything about you is repulsive.

As you lift your head, drops of water trickle down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat shed in private anguish. You gaze into the mirror, confronting the reflection of the current state of yourself. The person before you appears visibly disoriented. Rough and messy, like a wild animal.

The mirror offers no respite from the harsh reality staring back at you.

Staring back at you from the mirror are eyes that pierce with an unsettling intensity, devoid of humanity, like those of a predator assessing its next move. Dirt clings stubbornly to your clothes. Blood trickles from the corner of your mouth, its metallic taste lingering on your lips.

This is what they saw that day.

Is that supposed to be me?

“...fuck.”

I don't know what I am.

Notes:

1. HIII DID YOU MISS ME ^__^ ok yes big big sorry for disappearing for more than 2 months, I had exams last week and also the next 2 weeks :(

2. ALSO do you guys wanna stone me to death for making this fic so heavy with lore cuz if so, LMK IMMEDIATELY WE'LL ARRANGE A DATE AND PLACE 💯💯💯

3. Not only was I busy with school, I also SOMEHOW? lost my passion for art and writing so 💀 Maybe because it's a busy year for us so I literally can't do anything but study SO BARE WITH ME OK I STILL HAVE A LOT TO WRITE AND THESE MFS STILL HAVENT SO MUCH AS HUGGED...

4. Notebook update if you wanna see what Jay looks like

Chapter 27: XXVI ; WHEN I LOOK INTO YOUR EYES

Notes:

Chapter title is a song by Firehouse.

You stumble out of the restroom, clutching the wall tightly as if your life depends on it. Your legs tremble, barely supporting your weight, and your vision blurs with each step. Even after vomiting everything in your stomach, the relentless waves of nausea continue to assault you, leaving you feeling sicker than you ever thought possible. Your head pounds, your skin feels clammy, and cold sweat drips down your back.

You didn't think you could sink lower than you already had, but this is too much. You are too much. There's no doubt in your mind that you hated Combs so intensely that killing him felt justified, even necessary. But to consume human flesh? It's beyond the realm of insanity.

As you walk down the hallway, your vision blurs and your head begins to spin, the walls seeming to close in around you. Your heart races dangerously, pounding so hard you fear it might burst from your chest. Your breathing becomes shallow and erratic, each breath a struggle as your lungs fight to keep up with the frantic pace of your pulse.

The floor beneath you feels unstable, as if it might give way at any moment. You clutch at the walls, desperate for support, but they offer little comfort.

Push through. You have to. Just walk to the infirmary and sleep this off. Each step feels like an eternity, but you force yourself to keep moving, driven by the desperate hope that rest might offer some escape from this nightmare. Your body protests with every movement, but you grit your teeth and push forward, willing yourself to reach that damn infirmary.

You pray silently, a frantic litany of pleas and hopes, begging for the oblivion of sleep to wash away the horror of what you've done. If only you could wake up and find that it was all a terrible dream, that none of it was real.

If only I would die.

“Vice Admiral?”

You come to a sudden stop, your heart leaping into your throat. Every muscle in your body tenses, and you freeze in place. You don't dare lift your head, fully aware of the voice that has just pierced through your frantic haze. It’s a voice you know all too well, one that stirs a deep, visceral reaction within you.

You try to steady your breathing, but the effort only makes the pounding in your chest more pronounced. Your mind races, struggling to push through the fog of dread and shame. The fact that you've run into him in this fraught state seems almost like a cruel twist of fate. The last thing you need right now is to confront anyone, especially not him.

You don’t answer, gripping the edge of your resolve as you force yourself to resume walking. You keep your head down, eyes fixed firmly on the floor ahead, hoping that if you remain silent and avoid eye contact, he might believe he’s hallucinating or imagining your presence.

“Stop.” He grabs your wrist, pulling you to a halt. The sudden contact sends a jolt through your entire body, and you remember the heat of his palm all too well. As much as you want to ask him to let go, to escape the grip of his hand and the weight of his presence, it’s the same heat that makes your heart pound like a schoolgirl around her crush. It’s utterly humiliating.

You glance back at him, your lips trembling uncontrollably. You don't want him to see you like this—so weak and vulnerable, exposed in a way that makes your skin crawl.

Sakazuki furrows his eyebrows. “You’re not in any condition to be up and walking,” he says firmly. “Rest, Vice Admiral. Whatever you think you need to handle can wait. Don't push yourself when you're exhausted.”

You don’t answer again, the words caught like a chokehold in your throat, refusing to come out. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your face, his eyes narrowing as he studies you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle.

His expression shifts slightly, concern etched into the lines of his forehead, deepening the creases that frame his eyes. You’re acutely aware of how you must look—sweaty, breathless, and trembling. The reflection in his eyes reveals the truth you can’t escape: you look like you’ve been through hell, and considering everything that’s happened, it might as well be.

He takes a small step closer, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. You fight the urge to pull away, to hide from the vulnerability of the moment. Instead, you focus on the steadiness of his presence, the way he stands there, unwavering, offering an anchor in a storm that threatens to drown you.

“I read it, the clipboard… Is it true? I ate… him?” you stutter, your voice faltering as you struggle to complete the sentence. The words are heavy on your tongue, each syllable a weight you can barely bear. The reality of what you’ve done hangs over you like a suffocating shroud, and the effort to articulate it feels almost unbearable.

Sakazuki releases his grip on your wrist the moment he hears the panic in your voice. He realizes that you’ve discovered the truth, despite his efforts to keep it from you by instructing the nurse to remain silent. “Just breathe,” he says, his tone calm. “No, you didn’t consume him fully. It was just a bit of flesh and blood, but you’re fine.”

“Oh, fuck.” The words escape your lips in a whisper as a wave of nausea crashes over you. Disgust wells up from deep inside, so intense that it clouds your thoughts, making it impossible to think straight. Your head pounds mercilessly, and chills wrack your body, making you shiver uncontrollably. Your knees start to buckle, unable to support you any longer.

You stumble, your breathing coming in ragged, uneven gasps. Just as you feel yourself about to collapse, he catches you and holds tightly to your shoulders. “I thought it would be easier for you to cope if you didn’t know the full extent right away,” he says, studying your troubled face. “But I see now that keeping it from you only made things worse.”

Your vision blurs as you try to hold on to his arms, but your grip weakens with every passing second. The world around you begins to fade, the edges of your sight turning hazy and indistinct. Your body feels unbearably hot, as if a fire is raging beneath your skin.

“I… I don't feel right,” you weakly say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to look up, to find some solace in Sakazuki's expression, but his features swim before your eyes, merging into a blurry, indistinct mass.

And then… black.

“Vice Admiral?” Sakazuki calls out urgently as you go limp in his arms. The sudden loss of your strength catches him off guard, and he quickly adjusts to support your weight. He kneels down, cradling you gently, his hand slipping behind your neck to hold you in place as comfortably as possible.

With his other hand, he reaches up to touch your forehead, the heat radiating from your skin alarming him. “Of course you don’t feel right,” he murmurs. “You’re burning up.” He can feel the fever pulsing beneath his fingers, your skin hot to the touch and slick with sweat.

Even as you slip into unconsciousness, your eyebrows remain furrowed, a clear sign of the pain your body is trying to endure. His hand hesitantly reaches out, pausing mid air. He lets out a sigh and brushes a strand of hair away from your damp forehead.

“Call the medics!”

 

---

 

You groan as you slowly open your eyes, the familiar ceiling of the infirmary coming into focus above you. The stark white tiles are a sharp contrast to the swirling darkness you remember from before. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up, for you to realize where you are.

As your vision begins to clear, you turn your head slightly and see two blurry figures standing on either side of your bed. Blinking a few times, you try to bring them into focus.

“Oh, good, you’re awake!” Fishbonen exclaims with a mixture of relief and enthusiasm as he notices you stirring. He turns to Sakazuki, his expression serious yet reassuring. “As I was just telling you, (Y/N)’s body has been under an immense amount of stress, both physically and mentally. This can lead to what’s known as a psychogenic fever. It’s more common than you might think.”

You try to get up, pushing against the sheets, but a firm hand on your shoulder quickly holds you down in place. “No more of that,” Sakazuki states, his tone resolute. “You won’t move until you get better, Vice Admiral, that’s an order.”

It feels like you've been confined to the infirmary forever, the days blending into one another as you lie in the same bed, watching the world from behind a veil of white sheets and sterile walls. The subtle, persistent smell of antiseptics and medicine seems to linger inescapably, growing more bothersome with each passing hour. The scent clings to your clothes, seeps into your skin, and no amount of fresh air can seem to dispel it.

“When will I get better?” you ask, looking at Fishbonen as he munches on a fishbone.

“Well, soon, hopefully, if you don't overexert yourself again. You tend to do that a lot,” Fishbonen says, a wry smile playing on his lips as he adjusts the IV drip beside your bed. “Reminds me of your younger days, eh, Sakazuki?”

Sakazuki shakes his head, a shadow of old memories crossing his face. “That’s because I was an inexperienced fool,” he says, his voice tinged with regret. “And I learned that the hard way.” His gaze shifts from Fishbonen to you. “I don’t want you to end up a fool like I was. The only time I'll allow you to push yourself is during battles, but for now, rest.”

Right, you don’t remember what it feels like to rest these past few days. The gears in your body never stop turning, constantly grinding as if they don’t know what it means to take a break. Every muscle feels tense, every nerve on edge, and the relentless drive to keep moving, to keep doing, it's slowly killing you on the inside.

“I don’t… believe that I deserve to rest,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not when all I do is take lives. Every action I’ve taken, every decision, seems to carve away at whatever humanity I have left. I wonder if I contribute anything good to the world, or if I’m just a ticking time bomb.”

You pause, the weight of your thoughts pressing heavily on your chest. “And now,” you continue, your voice trembling, “I’m told I’ve consumed the flesh of a man. I’m afraid… afraid that I will become an uncontrollable, mindless monster, driven by instincts I can’t control.”

“Combs wasn’t a man, much less a human,” Sakazuki says. “So don’t blame yourself for what happened. You need to understand that what you did was necessary. The men are grateful to you, and by removing him, you eliminated a parasite that was infecting our ranks. That is the good you’ve contributed to the world. Don’t think of yourself as anything less than human because of this.”

“Are they not scared of me?” you ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Scared? If they were scared, there wouldn’t be men outside that door eavesdropping on us,” Fishbonen replies with a wry smile, glancing toward the slightly opened door of the infirmary. The light from the hallway casts a thin sliver into the room, illuminating the curious faces that have gathered just out of sight. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re waiting for us to leave so they can swarm you even when I specifically told them not to. I thought I had made myself clear.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, punctuated by a few surprised gasps from outside the door. The sound of shuffling feet and muffled whispers reaches your ears before the door swings shut with a soft click, sealing off the curious onlookers.

Sakazuki sighs, using his hand to massage his temples, clearly exasperated by their behavior. “I’m not sure they’re going to listen. If you need someone stationed outside the door to keep them in line…”

You hurriedly wave your hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. “No, no, that won’t be necessary. I’m no… celebrity, or something.”

Sakazuki raises an eyebrow. “By the looks of it, you are,” he counters. He pauses for a moment, his keen ears picking up the familiar sound of shuffling footsteps just outside the door. “And it seems your fans are rather eager to meet you,” he adds, glancing towards the door where the eavesdroppers have undoubtedly gathered once more.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone for a while,” Fishbonen says, a knowing smile on his face as he straightens his uniform. “If you really allow them to come in, they oughta be on their best behavior. I'll have a word with them. These youngins…” He trails off, shaking his head as he makes his way towards the door.

You and Sakazuki watch as Fishbonen’s figure recedes behind the door. The muffled sound of his voice filters through the wall, engaging the men outside in what seems to be a lighthearted yet serious conversation. The sound gradually fades, leaving you and Sakazuki alone once more.

You fidget with your fingers, aware that you’re left alone in the room with him again. It seems to happen a lot lately, these moments where it’s just the two of you. Normally, you wouldn’t think much of it; you’ve spent countless hours alongside your fellow officers in various settings. But this is different.

But this is Sakazuki—the one who, despite your best efforts to remain composed, somehow manages to make your heart race and your thoughts scatter.

As you sit there, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap, you steal a glance at him, trying to gauge his mood. Sakazuki, for his part, appears calm and maybe a bit tense, though his eyes are keenly observant, almost as if he’s waiting for something.

The silence stretches, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the infirmary. You find it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than the way your pulse quickens at the mere thought of him.

“Aren’t you annoyed with me?” you suddenly ask, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. You can feel a knot tightening in your stomach, bracing yourself for a negative response.

“Why would I be?” Sakazuki replies, his tone genuinely curious as he tilts his head slightly.

“I mean, ever since I joined, all I do is make trouble,” you admit, biting your lip. “Even now, I still can’t control my state, and it feels like it’s getting worse. I’m tarnishing the Marines’ image.”

His expression hardens slightly. “I’d argue that there are plenty of annoying idiots here, I can’t even begin to count. But they’re still here. If I found you more bothersome than them, I wouldn’t stand here talking to you now.”

You wonder if he’s only saying those things to spare your feelings, but deep down, you know he isn’t the type to sugarcoat the truth. He has always been straightforward, often blunt, and never concerned with sparing anyone’s feelings. There’s a sincerity in his eyes that cuts through your doubts.

There's a strange comfort you find in him, a sense of reassurance that seems to envelop you completely, pushing away your worries and fears. It’s as though Sakazuki is the only one who can make you feel truly human again, rather than the monster you’ve come to see yourself as.

A small smile forms on your lips, hesitant at first but growing with sincerity. “That’s… good to hear,” you say, your voice a touch more confident.

Seeing the smile return to your lips, Sakazuki steps closer to your side. “I should be heading out,” he says. “There’s work waiting for me, but before I go…”

“Yes?”

He pauses for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. “I don’t want to see you up and about, not until you’ve healed properly. It’s important that you recover properly.” The seriousness in his tone makes it clear that he’s not just offering advice but issuing a directive. “Am I understood?” he asks, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.

“Understood. I will. Only because you said so,” you reply, your tone carrying a note of reluctant compliance.

His eyes widen slightly at your response, surprise flickering across his face. “If it was anyone else?”

You let your eyelids droop as you look up at him, a cheeky smirk forming on your lips. “I don’t listen to anyone else, Fleet Admiral. You know that.”

That look in your eyes, combined with your words, causes his heart to skip a beat. “I… see.” He turns away, adjusting his cap as he glances down at the floor, trying to regain his usual demeanor. “I expect nothing less from you. I’ll hold you to that promise.”

He walks towards the door, clearly disturbed by his own reaction to your words. As he steps out of the infirmary, the door closes behind him with a quiet click, leaving you in the stillness of the room alone.

You watch him silently, your head tilting slightly in confusion. “Not even a farewell? I wonder if I said anything wrong,” you mutter to yourself, your voice barely breaking the quiet of the room.

Just seconds after Sakazuki left, a flood of men bursts through the door, their enthusiastic chatter filling the room. You sit upright, surprised at the sudden crowd, your heart racing at the unexpected commotion.

“Vice Admiral (Y/N)! We’re finally done with the training and came here as fast as we could!” one of them exclaims, holding a vibrant bouquet in his hands.

“It’s good to finally meet you! We’ve been dying to,” another adds, his excitement clear as day as he steps forward, practically bouncing on his heels.

“I brought some food my mother cooked for you,” one of them chimes in, proudly presenting a metal container like a prized trophy.

“My wife made something for you, too!” another calls out, waving a homemade dish enthusiastically.

You hold your hand up, effectively silencing everyone in the room. As their voices quiet down, you close your eyes and let out a deep sigh, trying to gather your thoughts amid the whirlwind of energy. “Woah, slow it down. I can't hear you when you're talking over each other,” you say, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

The room falls silent, and the men exchange sheepish glances.

“We’re very sorry, ma’am! We didn’t mean to overwhelm you!” one of the men says, stepping forward with an apologetic smile.

You rub the back of your head, feeling a bit out of place under the intense focus of their collective attention. The small room seems to close in around you with the sudden influx of people and their generous offerings. “You’re not here for what I think it is, are you?” you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

One of the men, holding the bouquet and several gifts, steps forward. “You got rid of Vice Admiral Combs. That’s exactly why we’re here! We wanted to thank you and bring you some gifts.”

They present the various items they’ve brought: homemade dishes, flowers, and a few small trinkets. “Ah…” you begin, trying to find the right words. “You shouldn’t thank me for that. It was an… accident.”

Another man, clearly enthusiastic and relieved, shakes his head. “Even if it was, at least Combs won’t terrorize us anymore. He got what he deserved. You’ve made things a lot better for us.” The sentiment is echoed by the others, who nod in agreement.

You look at the gifts and the expressions of gratitude and feel a mix of emotions. Despite the circumstances, the gesture is heartfelt, and the support is overwhelming. “Well, I appreciate the thought,” you say, your voice softening. “But you should know that it wasn’t my intention to cause a scene. I was just trying to do what was right.”

The men nod, their respect evident in their expressions. “We understand that, ma’am. But you still made a big difference. We just wanted to show our gratitude.”

As the room settles into a more comfortable atmosphere, you start to feel more at ease. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, looking at each of them in turn. “It means a lot to me, especially right now. I hope it's not much trouble bringing them here for someone like me.”

They smile at you as they carefully place the gifts on the table next to your bed. However, the sheer number of gifts quickly becomes apparent; they overflow the table, and some have to be placed on the floor to accommodate the rest.

After most of them have placed their gifts, they leave to give you some space, though a few linger. “We wish you a fast recovery, (Y/N)-san,” the youngest one speaks up, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You smile warmly at him. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

One of the slightly older men, sporting a stubble, hesitates before speaking. “Can I ask you something?“

“Hm? Go ahead,” you reply, settling back against your pillows, intrigued.

“Are you dating Fleet Admiral Sakazuki?”

“No,” you answer immediately without thinking. Your face flushes a deep shade of red, your heartbeat quickening. Though you maintain your smile, you can't let them know your feelings for him. “I don't know what you've seen or heard, but all of it is nonsense. Don't speak of this to anyone else, you don't want to get in trouble, do you?”

The man’s eyes widen in surprise. “I-I don’t… Sorry, we’ll leave now,” he stammers, stepping back as he realizes he’s overstepped.

As they start to shuffle out, the youngest one hesitates, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Hmm, but I don’t think you two are a bad match, actually,” he says, tilting his head slightly as if pondering the idea.

You place your hand over your face, feeling the heat of your own cheeks.

“How about we stop talking for a little while.”

Notes:

1. HI FELLAS hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long 😎 Don't kill me for not making anything major happened this chapter 🙁🕶️🤏

2. I'm gonna have another (trial) exam this month so you're gonna have to wait some time again for the next chapter cuz I need to finish my course works (which is due in 7 days as I'm writing this and I'm not even halfway done)

3. Updates will be even less consistent from now until December because I really can't afford to mess up this up or else I won't get my certificate of education 😔

4. BUT REST ASSURED I'm also writing TWO (2) other fics to add to the Sakazuki/Reader tag... When will I finish them? Good question!...

Chapter 28: XXVII ; THE SUN DON'T SHINE

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Doomed by Bring Me The Horizon.

“This (Y/N) is… remarkable. With her state, there’s so much that could be achieved. We just need to find a method to control her effectively.”

Sakazuki’s eyebrows knit together deeply, his nose wrinkling with irritation. His hands are clenched into tight fists, trembling with the effort of suppressing his rising frustration.

“She possesses immense potential. The only thing hindering her is her conscience. If she could shed that weakness and become more like Rob Lucci, there’s no doubt she would become an invaluable asset to us.”

The magma within him churns restlessly, threatening to erupt from his tightly controlled exterior. Sakazuki's jaw is clenched so fiercely it feels like it might crack, but he forces himself to maintain composure. This is not the place for such an outburst. Not on the land of Marie Geoise.

“Such a valuable weapon for the Marines to possess,” Saturn remarks, his tone dripping with calculated coldness. “I fail to see any plausible reason why you would allow her to remain in that untamed condition. By holding her back, you’re stifling her true potential. You are not allowing her to flourish.”

“Flourish? That’s absurd,” Sakazuki snaps. “I won’t allow her to become something she doesn’t want to be. Not while she’s under my command.”

Saturn’s eyes narrow, his expression hardening as he glares at Sakazuki. His grip on his cane tightens until his knuckles turn white. “You seem to have forgotten your place. You are under our command, and by extension, so is she. Your personal feelings on the matter are irrelevant. You have no say in what she becomes.”

“Of course I do,” Sakazuki retorts, his voice a low growl. “I didn’t claw my way to the position of Fleet Admiral just to be a figurehead. I have every right to manage the goddamn Marines as I see fit, and I don’t agree with your suggestion. I won’t stand by while you turn her into a mindless weapon. She will remain a Marine officer.”

Saturn steps forward, his tone dismissive as he interjects, “But not on paper, she’s not. So there’s no issue, is there? You’re making this far more complicated than it needs to be.”

Sakazuki’s eyes flash with anger, his fists clenching tightly. “And just what the hell do you make of her? It’s enough that you’ve stripped Kuma of all his individuality and humanity. I won’t allow you to do the same to my Vice Admiral. She’s more than just a tool to be used for your dirty work.”

Saturn’s gaze hardens, his expression turning icy as he leans on his cane. “Your insolence is grating, Sakazuki. You seem to forget your place. We are not equals. We are the ones who dictate the course of this world, and you would do well to remember that. The potential in that woman is boundless, and it would be wise of you to harness her strength to its fullest extent. Or would you rather waste such a resource out of misplaced sentiment?”

Sakazuki’s fists tighten at his sides as he struggles to keep his composure. His magma burns hotter beneath his skin, but he forces himself to remain still, knowing that any further outburst could cost him more than just this argument.

Son of a bitch.

Sakazuki’s eyes burned with defiance as he straightened his posture, standing tall despite the oppressive weight of the room. “I know fully well where you stand in terms of superiority,” he begins. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t stand my ground. If you’re so desperate for a human weapon, then I suggest you look elsewhere. She won’t be your pawn.”

Saturn’s lips curl into a thin, humorless smile, one that doesn’t reach his cold eyes. He taps his cane on the marble floor with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each click echoing in the tense silence. “When did you start caring about your soldiers’ wellbeing, Sakazuki?” he asks, his tone dripping with disdain.

Sakazuki stays quiet. Saturn's words press down heavy on him.

“This display of sentimentality… It's pathetic. I’d go even further to say it’s absolutely sickening.”

He stands firm, his jaw set, though the muscles in his neck twitch with the effort of holding back his fury. “I did not become Fleet Admiral to let you have your way with us, treating us as nothing more than your weapons,” he declares. His glare burns with a fire that matches the heat simmering beneath his skin. “You seem to have forgotten that justice is our top priority—not to cater to your every stupid decision.”

Saturn’s expression remains cold and impassive. He slowly straightens, no longer leaning on his cane. “You dare speak to us of justice?” he hisses, his voice low. “Justice is a tool, nothing more. It is our will that shapes it, our command that enforces it. And you are in no position to lecture us.”

“Say what you will!” Sakazuki exclaims. “I’ve carried out every order you’ve thrown at me, no matter how ruthless. But this—this is where I draw the line. Take whoever you want from the thousands of Marines under my command, but leave her out of this. I won’t allow her to be reduced to a mere weapon. Not for you, not for anyone. And she certainly won’t be turned into some dog, forced to bark and grovel at your feet as if you were some kind of god.”

Saturn shakes his head slowly. “You’ve grown bolder with your insults. That tongue of yours may very well be your undoing one day,” he says, his tone icy and dispassionate. He pauses, his gaze narrowing as he studies Sakazuki with a calculating look. “To see you being so defensive over this woman… It's clear to me that this isn’t just about ego or pride. It’s personal.”

Sakazuki scoffs at his words, though his heart wouldn't stop racing. “Perhaps it wasn't as clear as you thought. Nothing I say is personal. It's a matter of pride, something you're trying to damage.”

Saturn’s voice lowers, dripping with a mix of curiosity and menace. He doesn't believe his words one bit. “You’ve let her get under your skin, haven’t you? A dangerous attachment for a man in your position.”

Sakazuki’s heart races, each beat feeling like a drum against his ribs. His fists tighten into white-knuckled balls, the strain visible in the rigid tendons of his arms.

No. That's not it. It can't be.

It… shouldn't be.

Seeing his prolonged silence, Saturn turns his back to him, signaling the end of the meeting. “I thought as much,” he says over his shoulder, his voice loud with condescension. “You're dismissed, Sakazuki. Perhaps on your way out, you should reflect on how to speak to us with the respect we deserve. And while you’re at it, maybe you should also learn not to let yourself become so vulnerable.”

Sakazuki frowns. His words are like a final, cutting blow, each syllable delivered with a chilling detachment.

“After all, it’s unseemly to allow oneself to be so easily swayed by someone so… insignificant.”

As he turns to leave, his head tilts slightly downward to the floor. His fingers grip the brim of his cap, the tension in his hand evident as he pulls it down in a futile attempt to shield his emotions from view.

His jaw is clenched so hard it feels like it might shatter, the muscles twitching with the effort to keep his emotions in check. He stares at the polished floor, his gaze fixed but unfocused, as if trying to ground himself in the reality of his situation.

“Goddamn it…” The curse escapes his lips in a low, ragged breath.

 

---

 

Sakazuki’s eyes narrow as he stares at the paperwork on his desk, his mind replaying the events of the meeting. The sharp, bitter taste of frustration lingers, even more pronounced than the cigar smoke filling his lungs. He’s a man accustomed to control, to commanding respect and fear in equal measure. Yet today, something slipped through his grasp, and the thought gnawed at him like an old wound.

Aramaki shifts again on the couch, the silence between them growing more unbearable by the second. He glances at Sakazuki, noting the slight tremor in the other man’s hands, a sign of the anger simmering just beneath the surface. He has seen Sakazuki furious before—hell, he’s experienced it firsthand—but this is different. There’s a restraint here, a leash barely holding back whatever storm rages inside him.

Sakazuki reaches for a pen, his hand trembling slightly as it hovers over the paperwork. The official order before him is nothing more than a formality, but it feels like a death sentence. The demand is clear and final: hand you over to the World Government.

Just the thought of it alone is enough to send him over the edge. The audacity of their request is almost too much to bear.

“To hell with it!” he roars, his voice reverberating through the room. Magma surges from his hand, engulfing the pen in an instant. It disintegrates into nothing, leaving only a dark stain on the desk where it once was. He stops just short of letting the molten rock drip onto the damned paper, pulling it back with a fierce growl.

“They just won't drop it. I don't understand why! Those old geezers…” His words are spat out, each one dripping with contempt. The frustration and anger he's been holding back ever since that meeting finally erupts, unable to be contained.

“What will you do then? They’re getting persistent with their order,” Aramaki asks, leaning forward on the couch, his gaze fixed on the stressed Sakazuki. “Are you going to do as they say?”

Sakazuki's eyes blaze with fury as he snaps back, “Are you kidding me? Hell no! I'm not giving her to them. Those vultures—I've seen what they did to Kuma, how they ripped his life apart, destroyed his humanity, and tore his daughter’s world to pieces. I won’t let that happen to her.”

Aramaki leans back slightly, his expression thoughtful but tinged with concern. “You know they’re not going to take no for an answer, right?” he says. “They’ll keep pushing until they get what they want. And don't get me wrong, I don't want that to happen to (Y/N) either. But with how persistent they are getting, I don't think we can keep her safe any longer.”

“Let them push. I'll push back harder.” He stands abruptly, striding toward the entrance as if the very walls of his office were closing in on him. He steps outside, seeking the cool night air to calm him down. “I’m not going to let those bastards have their way. Not this time.”

Aramaki rises from the couch, trailing after him. He watches as Sakazuki grips the railing with one hand, the tension in his broad shoulders unmistakable. The sea breeze rustles through his hair, but it does little to soothe the anger brewing within him.

“Y’know,” He starts, leaning casually against the doorframe, “I’ve gotta hand it to you. It takes guts to stand up to them, especially for a woman’s sake. There’s something so… romantic about it.”

Sakazuki’s head snaps to the side, his glare icy as he shoots a look over his shoulder. “What what you say, you fucking tree,” he warns.

Aramaki quickly raises his hands in a mock surrender. “Woops. That's my bad, boss.”

Sakazuki huffs, turning back to stare out at the horizon. “As long as she can tap into that state, they’ll keep hounding me, barking orders to hand her over so they can break her. To them, she’s just another weapon,” he mutters, weariness etched in his voice. He covers his face with his hand, trying to push back the exhaustion weighing on him. “As long as she doesn’t turn that power against her… allies…”

Aramaki watches him carefully, noticing the way his voice trails off. There’s a flicker of something in his posture, something that makes him wonder if the man in front of him is starting to lose hope.

“Oh,” Sakazuki suddenly murmurs, his tone shifting.

“Hmm?”

He removes his hand from his face, a faint glint of realization in his eyes. “Right. How foolish of me… That should’ve crossed my mind sooner,” he says, a new resolve settling into his voice.

As the tension slowly drains from his shoulders, Aramaki raises an eyebrow, noticing the change. It wasn’t hopelessness he had seen earlier—it was something entirely different. Determination.

“What do you mean, Sakazuki-san?”

“A weapon that doesn’t do friendly fire, that’s what they want,” Sakazuki says, his tone as hard as granite. His gaze is fixed on the horizon, but his mind is clearly somewhere else—calculating, considering. “They’re after perfection—a tool that’s powerful, obedient, and utterly controlled. That’s all they see when they look at her. Just another weapon in their arsenal. But if there’s even a hint of… a defect… they’ll call it off.”

Aramaki frowns, trying to piece together what he is implying. The words circle in his mind, and only one conclusion makes sense—at least, coming from a man like him.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. His eyes widen in shock. “Woah, wait... Hold on a second! You’re not seriously saying you’ll make her kill an innocent!?”

Sakazuki doesn’t respond immediately, his silence only amplifying the tension. He simply stares ahead, as if lost in his thoughts, weighing the consequences of his plan. Finally, he turns to face him, his expression hard and unyielding. There’s a fierce determination in his eyes, one that Aramaki has seen before but never quite like this. It’s as if he is willing to cross any line, break any rule, to protect what’s his.

“They won’t touch her if they think she’s imperfect,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “If she shows any sign of unpredictability, they’ll discard the idea of using her. That’s how they think—anything less than perfect is useless to them.”

“But that's... that's terrible!” Aramaki protests, his voice rising with urgency. “You know what killing those scum did to her, how it tore her apart inside. If she thinks she’s harmed an innocent person, it’ll break her completely!”

“I won’t force her into that,” Sakazuki replies, his voice firm but calm. “She won’t have to harm anyone she believes is innocent. I’ll make sure of that. What matters is that those bastards up there believe she’s a liability, that she’s too unpredictable to be used as their weapon. I just need to find a way to make it seem like she’s already crossed that line.”

Aramaki steps back, processing his words. He can see the determination in his superior’s eyes, the lengths he’s willing to go to protect you, even if it means staining your hands—or rather, making it seem as though they are.

“But how? How do you make it look like she’s done something so... so unforgivable without actually doing it?”

Sakazuki’s expression hardens, his jaw clenched as he considers the options. “There are ways,” he says slowly, almost as if speaking to himself. “Illusions, false reports, planted evidence... All it takes is for them to see what they don't expect to see.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sakazuki-san,” Aramaki says, still unsure of his plan.

His eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw. “A game they started,” he hisses. “And I’m going to finish it. My way.”

He hesitates, searching for the right words to pierce the armor Sakazuki has built around himself. “Are you really sure about this? Nothing good will come if (Y/N) finds out. With how much she’s struggled with her past… adding something like this could shatter her.”

Sakazuki’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, the mask slips. There’s a flicker of something almost human in his eyes—something vulnerable.

He turns his back on Aramaki, the weight of the decision hanging heavily on his shoulders. “Then I’ll just have to find a good excuse,” he says quietly, though there’s no softness in his tone, only grim acceptance. “A broken heart over a broken mind. If that's the only thing that will keep her away from the Five Elders, then so be it.”

Aramaki frowns, crossing his arms as he leans back onto the doorframe. “It’s even possible she won't forgive you for doing this to her. Can you really live with that?”

Sakazuki doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes are locked on the horizon, the distant line where the sea meets the sky, as if searching for answers in the vastness. “I am only doing what I believe is right. I don't seek her forgiveness,” he finally says. “To protect her, I’d do…”

He hangs his head low and sighs.

“...just about anything.”

 

---

 

His hands tremble as he listens, each word of the conversation sending a shiver down his spine. He grabs at his hair, his fingers digging into his scalp. Curses slip from his lips like a whispered breeze. The Black Den Den Mushi, perched on the desk, watches him with an indifferent stare, its eyes unblinking and cold.

“(Y/N)... The Five Elders…!?”

Jay’s voice cracks as the realization hits him with full force. He reaches for a cigarette, his hands shaking as he lights it. He takes a drag, only to find the smoke more acrid and bitter than he remembers. The once-pleasurable habit now tastes like ash in his mouth, and he snuffs it out immediately in the ashtray, the ember fading with a sullen hiss.

“This isn’t right. They can’t do this to (Y/N),” he mutters to himself, sweat trickling down his forehead as he turns his gaze away, unable to face the reality of the situation. “There has to be a better way. They’re not seriously going through with it, are they? That’s just…”

“You heard it all, didn't you?”

The sudden voice breaks his spiraling thoughts. He slowly turns his head to face the Black Den Den Mushi, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Huh—?”

“As if Combs wasn't enough of a parasite to the Marines, it looks like we have another one of you.”

Jay’s spine stiffens, and he feels a cold sweat break out at his temples. His heart races as the weight of the threat sinks in. His mind races, trying to reconcile the impossible. He had carefully placed the other Den Den Mushi in a location that was supposed to be discreet, isolated to ensure it remained unnoticed. How, then, is the man he’s eavesdropping on now addressing him directly?

“Say a word about this to anyone else, and I assure you that there will be no mercy for your death.”

His mind races. His grip tightens on the armrest of his chair, knuckles white as he tries to control the tremors shaking through him. The Black Den Den Mushi’s eyes seem to bore into him with a chilling intensity, its indifferent gaze now feeling like a predator assessing its prey.

“Silence is your only ally now. That will be all then, you've heard enough.”

There's a crackling noise, like the sound of heavy molten rock settling and cooling, before the line abruptly goes dead. Jay watches, breathless, as the Den Den Mushi in front of him slowly closes its eyes, the connection severed with a final, ominous click.

“Shit...!”

 

---

 

Resting, as Fishbonen had insisted, seems to have worked wonders for your body. After several days of recuperation, you are finally deemed well enough to return to your duties. As you step out of the infirmary, you stretch your arms high, feeling the satisfying pull in your muscles. You exhale loudly, savoring the freedom and relief that comes with it.

You make your way to your office, the corridors echoing with the usual bustle of Marine activity. As you walk, you notice a shift in the demeanor of the lower-rank Marines around you. Instead of the usual wary glances and quickened steps you were accustomed to, they now regard you with friendly, even warm expressions. Their smiles are genuine, their nods more relaxed. It’s a stark contrast to the formal politeness you’re used to.

You can't help but feel a twinge of surprise. The change in atmosphere is massive. It’s as if the incident with Combs, despite its negative impact on you, has somehow altered the way you are perceived by those around you. The warmth in their expressions is unexpected, but you find a small comfort in it.

Despite the lingering guilt and shame from what you did to Combs, there's a glimmer of something positive emerging.

As you approach your office, you spot someone coming toward it, a stack of paperwork clutched tightly in his hands. Just as he's about to open the door, he catches sight of you and straightens up, his face brightening with recognition. He salutes crisply, the gesture full of respect.

“Vice Admiral (Y/N)! It's good to see you back and well!” he says with genuine enthusiasm.

You return his salute with a nod, feeling a subtle lift in your spirits. “Thanks. Is that for me?” you ask, indicating the stack of documents.

He nods eagerly, taking a step closer to hand you the papers. “Yes, ma’am. It’s a report of a new mission for you. I’ve been instructed to get them to you as soon as you return to duty.”

You take the stack from him. “New mission? I didn't expect to get one so quickly after my recovery. I'll take a look at it.”

The Marine was about to leave when a sudden realization dawned on him. He pauses, turning back to you with a slightly embarrassed expression. “Ah, one more thing! Fleet Admiral Sakazuki mentioned that this mission is scheduled for a few days from now. He specifically wanted you to review the details and prepare everything needed beforehand.”

“Oh, I see… I'll go look at them now,” you reply.

He offers a respectful salute once more. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Have a good day, ma’am!”

With that, he turns and heads down the hallway, his footsteps echoing lightly. You watch him leave before turning back to your office. The door closes behind you, and you set the stack of papers down on your desk. You take a deep breath, feeling the familiar blend of anticipation and responsibility settle in.

“Can’t slack off now, right, Fleet Admiral?” you whisper to yourself as you stare at the papers.

Notes:

1. Let him cook guys it's for the MC's sake fr

2. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAKAZUKI + notebook update ;3

2. I literally JUST found out that all the images from The Notebook fucking disappeared due to broken links LMAO the reason I updated this chapter so late is because I was so pissed off that I didn't wanna open AO3

Chapter 29: XXVIII ; RIVER OF DECEIT

Notes:

Chapter title is a song by Mad Season.

You stand on the dock, silently observing as the crew loads supplies onto the battleship. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the deck, but there’s something off about the scene that makes you narrow your eyes.

There’s a subtle, but unmistakable, difference in the men assigned to this mission. They move about the ship with less of the rigid precision you’re accustomed to. Their movements are more hesitant, lacking the usual confidence of seasoned Marines. As you watch, one of them stumbles over a rope coil, nearly dropping the crate in his hands. Another fumbles with the rigging, struggling to secure it properly. A few crates hit the deck with a dull thud, drawing frustrated murmurs from the crew.

Their builds are smaller, less imposing than the typical Marines who accompany you on missions. They seem younger and even those old enough to have children, too—probably new recruits or those recently promoted. Their inexperience is glaring, from the way they awkwardly handle their gear to the nervous glances they exchange when they think no one is watching.

It’s clear they’re trying their best, but the lack of discipline is obvious. A few barked orders from their superior officers do little to alleviate the clumsiness. You catch sight of one Marine rushing to help another who’s dropped his load, their hands fumbling as they try to pick up the scattered contents.

As you continue to observe the crew, the unease within you deepens. For a mission of this magnitude—capturing a notorious pirate involved in child trafficking—you had expected a more seasoned and disciplined group of Marines. You frown slightly, the thought gnawing at the back of your mind. These men, with their uncertain steps and unsteady hands, don’t exactly inspire confidence.

You wonder if this was a deliberate choice—perhaps a test from Sakazuki to see how you manage a less experienced crew—or just an unfortunate coincidence. The thought makes you pause. Is this mission being set up to fail? The idea is unsettling, yet you shake your head, trying to dismiss it. You’re not usually one to jump to conclusions, and it wouldn’t be fair to these men to assume the worst.

Your frown deepens as you catch yourself being overly critical. Perhaps they’re just nervous, aware of the gravity of the mission. Maybe these men are clumsy now, but that doesn’t mean they’ll falter when it truly matters. Combat can bring out the best in people, and perhaps they’ll surprise you when the time comes.

Your gaze softens as you watch them continue their preparations. They’re trying their best, and that has to count for something. This mission is too important for you to let doubts cloud your judgment. They will be the ones standing by your side, facing the dangers ahead with you. It’s only fair that you give them the trust they deserve, even if they haven’t earned it yet.

You sense someone approaching from behind, the sound of their footsteps light but distinct against the bustle around the battleship. Glancing over your shoulder, you catch sight of Aramaki strolling up to you with his usual easygoing stride. His eyes light up and he flashes you a cheeky smile.

“(Y/N)! You’re looking good today,” he says, his gaze sweeping over you. His words hang in the air for a beat, and you watch as realization dawns on him. His eyes widen slightly as he scrambles to correct himself. “I mean, good as in healed and healthy. You know I’m not hitting on you, right?”

You let out a light chuckle, shaking your head at his awkward backpedaling. “Yes, I know. Thank you, Admiral.”

Aramaki exhales a dramatic sigh of relief, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from his forehead. “Phew, I really gotta think about what I say around you or I'll really get in trouble,” he says, though the grin he gives you is still sheepish. “Not that you aren’t, you know, but… uh, yeah. Anyway, it’s great to see you back on your feet. Let’s do our best for this mission.”

You smile, amused by his fumbling attempts to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “It’s good to be back,” you say, allowing the amusement to fade as you meet his gaze more seriously. “There’s work to be done, and I’m ready for it.”

You look back at the battleship at the dock, but quickly turn your head to him again as you realize what he said.

“Wait a second,” you say, your eyebrows furrowing in surprise. “I wasn't aware you'd be on this mission as well?”

Aramaki scratches the back of his head, a nervous habit that betrays his composure. His eyes dart briefly upward and to the right before he meets your gaze again, the smile on his face looking a bit forced. ”Oh, that. Yeah, it’s a last-minute thing. Sakazuki-san wanted me on this mission. He mentioned he needed someone to keep an eye on you, especially after what happened last time.”

You blink. Your nose remembers the scent of Comb's blood.

“Oh. Makes sense,” you reply, though your voice lacks enthusiasm. “I hope this goes smoothly. I don't want to mess things up again.”

Aramaki raises an eyebrow, letting out a long, exaggerated ‘haaa?’ before waving his hand dismissively. “C’mon, don’t beat yourself up over it. It wasn’t that bad, all things considered,” he says, his tone light, trying to lift your spirits.

You shake your head, not fully convinced. “I don’t know. Kozari is still out there. I let him escape…” Your gaze drops to your hand, fingers curling into a tight fist. “If I see him again, I’ll get him for sure. And then… everything will be fine.”

Aramaki watches you closely, the usual teasing gleam in his eyes dimming. He knows you’re not just talking about the mission. The word ‘everything’ seems to weigh heavily on you, including your own peace of mind.

He rests a hand on your shoulder. “You think way too negatively, (Y/N)! I told you, it wasn't that bad at all. Everyone is fine with it, and you even gained some fans. They don't hate you, y’see?”

You manage a small smile, but it’s clear the guilt still lingers. “...I suppose you're right. Thank you.”

“Admiral Ryokugyu! Vice Admiral (Y/N)! We're ready to set sail!” a Marine in his twenties shouts from the dock, his voice carrying over the clamor of the crew as they hurry to board the ship. Behind him, a steady line of men ascends the stairs, their movements rushed but eager.

Aramaki glances at you, giving a quick nod toward the ship. “Let’s go,” he says, his tone firm but carrying an undercurrent of reassurance. Without another word, he walks toward the gangway, his long legs carrying him swiftly. You fall in step behind him, having to quicken your pace to match his speed. The wooden boards of the dock creak under your boots.

As the ship looms larger, you inhale deeply, the salty breeze filling your lungs. The stairs leading up to the ship’s deck seem longer than they should be, each step echoing your silent hopes. You pause briefly at the base of the stairs, letting out a slow, controlled exhale before placing your foot on the first step.

You can feel the eyes of the crew on you, but your thoughts are elsewhere. For a moment, you close your eyes and offer a silent prayer, hoping that this mission will go smoothly, that your decisions will be the right ones, and that no more mistakes will haunt you. And most of all, you pray for the safety of the men under your command.

Perhaps you still doubt their capabilities that you had to pray everything and everyone will be just fine… Perhaps.

Something doesn't feel right.

You ascend the stairs, the sound of your boots blending with the rhythm of the crew's hurried movements. As you step onto the deck, the familiar sight of the ship's mast towering above you brings a sense of familiarity, grounding you. The wind picks up, catching in the sails, as the ship begins to sway gently with the pull of the tide.

Aramaki stops beside you, glancing down at the men who continue to load the last of the supplies. “You alright there, (Y/N)?” he asks.

You nod, your gaze sweeping across the deck as the crew hustles to finalize preparations. “Yeah,” you reply quietly.

“Ah, Sakazuki-san.”

Aramaki’s voice pulls your attention, and you lift your head to see him staring toward the entrance of New Marineford. Following his gaze, your eyes land on Sakazuki, standing there like a sentinel at the door, his imposing figure framed by the morning light. His arms are crossed over his chest, the brim of his cap casting a shadow that hides most of his face, but you can still feel the intensity of his gaze as he looks at you and Aramaki.

Or… just you?

Your heartbeat quickens, not out of fear but something else, something that bubbles up from within. His presence, so authoritative and commanding, always has this effect on you. But today, there's a different kind of tension in the air, one that makes your thoughts race.

For a moment, everything else fades into the background. The chatter of the crew, the creaking of the ship, even the smell of the sea—all of it becomes distant as your focus narrows to Sakazuki. There’s something about the way he’s standing there, so still, so unreadable, that sends a strange flutter through your chest.

You feel a peculiar urge bubbling up inside you. It’s an impulse that seems almost out of place, given the seriousness of the moment. Something silly, even childish, that you wouldn’t normally entertain. But before you can talk yourself out of it, you find your hand lifting of its own accord.

A small wave. It’s almost absurd, the way you raise your hand and shake your hand in Sakazuki’s direction. As soon as you do it, you feel a rush of embarrassment. What were you thinking? He’s going to think you’ve lost your mind.

The few seconds that pass after feel like an eternity. You stand there, frozen, your hand suspended awkwardly in the air as you wait for his reaction. Aramaki glances at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He’s clearly amused by your spontaneous action, but he says nothing.

To your surprise, Sakazuki doesn’t immediately turn away or dismiss the gesture. For a heartbeat, you think you see his stance soften, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he uncrosses his arms and lifts his hand in response. It’s not much—just a brief acknowledgment, a subtle tilt of his head as if to say, I see you—but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat.

As soon as you feel the ship drifting away from the dock, you drop your hand, turning your back to Sakazuki. The momentary boldness that led you to wave now seems absurd, and embarrassment prickles your skin. You keep your gaze fixed ahead, refusing to glance back at the dock where Sakazuki is likely still standing. The weight of your own silliness is too much to bear.

“Well aren't you two friendly,” Aramaki starts, with a snicker in his voice. “You lifted your head so quick when I called his name. A wave too? I'm sure the thousand people on this ship saw that.”

“A thousand,” you echo, your voice a little higher than usual as the realization hits you. “That’s— That’s a lot of people…!”

Your cheeks grow warmer by the second, and you find yourself wishing the ship would just swallow you whole. You hadn’t thought about the others on board, the crew members who might have witnessed your awkward gesture. Now, the idea that a thousand pairs of eyes might have seen you waving at the Fleet Admiral like a star-struck recruit makes you want to crawl under a rock.

Aramaki’s snicker fades as he leans against the railing, his playful demeanor giving way to something more serious. He studies your back, noticing how tense you’ve become. There’s a moment of silence between you, filled only by the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping against the hull of the ship. The guilt gnaws at him, more insistent now that the laughter has died down. He’s never been one to care too much about the feelings of others, but this—this is different.

He takes a glance over his shoulder, back towards the dock. Sakazuki is still there, his gaze locked onto the ship. For a brief second, their eyes meet, and an unspoken understanding passes between them.

“Yeah,” Aramaki finally agrees, his voice lacking its usual teasing edge. “A thousand is a lot of people.”

The ship continues to move further away from the dock, the distance between you and New Marineford growing by the second. Sakazuki’s hand, which had lingered in the air for a moment after your wave, slowly curls into a loose fist. He watches the ship shrink on the horizon, his eyes following it until it’s just a speck against the vast ocean. And even then, he keeps staring, as if by sheer will he could pull you back to safety.

Sakazuki feels a sigh escape his lips. “It must be done…” he mutters to himself, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. The resolve that had always defined him wavers, just for a moment, as he considers the potential fallout of his plan. He grips his fist tighter, as if to crush the doubt threatening to consume him. He knows what’s at stake, and he knows that this is the only way to protect you from them.

“(Y/N)…” he whispers your name as if it could somehow reach you across the vast expanse of sea.

 

---

 

You lean on the railings, letting the cool ocean breeze brush against your face as you watch the waves gently lap against the ship’s hull. The horizon stretches out before you, a thin line where the sky meets the sea, blurring into shades of blue and grey. The sound of seagulls overhead draws your attention momentarily, and you watch them glide effortlessly, free from the burdens of duty.

Aramaki had wandered off somewhere on the ship, probably to keep an eye on things—or perhaps to keep an eye on you. His casual demeanor doesn’t fool you; there’s something more beneath the surface, something he’s not saying.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of the ocean fill your senses. The crash of waves, the creak of the ship, the distant cries of the seagulls—all of it blends together, creating a lullaby that almost lulls you into a state of calm.

A prickling sensation creeps up the back of your neck, a feeling of being watched. You furrow your eyebrows, the unease settling in your gut as you keep your eyes closed, hoping the feeling will pass. But it doesn’t. The sensation only grows stronger, compelling you to open your eyes.

“Do I have something on my face?” you ask, your voice edged with a hint of irritation.

You turn your head slightly, catching sight of the man who had called out to you back at New Marineford, announcing that the ship was ready to set sail. He stands a short distance away, near one of the ship’s cannons, his posture rigid. In his hands, he holds a flintlock rifle, the weapon positioned casually at his side, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s watching you.

The man blinks, seeming to realize he’s been caught staring. He shifts his weight awkwardly, clearing his throat as if trying to find a way to explain himself. “N-No, ma’am. I'm sorry,” he stammers, his words tumbling out in a rush.

You notice the way his eyes flicker to the side, as if he’s debating whether to say something more. The uncertainty in his expression is unmistakable—he’s holding something back, but you can see that he’s wrestling with the decision to speak up.

Without a word, you push off the railing and walk towards him. You stop just a few feet away, close enough to make him slightly uncomfortable, but not so close as to be intimidating. You look past him, fixing your eyes on the ocean stretching out before you.

“If there's anything you want to say, say it,” you say, your voice calm but with an unmistakable firmness. It’s not a suggestion—it’s an order, one that leaves little room for evasion.

He hesitates, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat.

“It’s just…” he finally begins, his voice shaky. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you.” His eyes flicker up to meet yours for a brief second before darting away again, and you can see the nervous energy in the way his fingers fidget with the rifle. He’s careful not to let them stray too close to the trigger, but the way he grips the weapon betrays the tension he’s feeling. “And I never thought I’d actually be here—on the same mission as you,” he adds.

His admission piques your curiosity, and you find yourself tilting your head slightly as you consider his words. You hum softly, a sound that conveys both interest and a gentle prompting for him to continue.

“Yeah?” you ask. “Bad or good?”

He winces slightly at the question, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he’s suddenly very interested in the texture of the deck beneath his boots. “Well,” he says, his voice lowering to a near mumble, “I suppose it depends on the perspective. But personally… good.”

Your eyebrows rise in surprise, not expecting such earnest words from him. Given his nervous demeanor and the way he hesitated earlier, you had assumed he was simply intimidated by your presence. The silence between you stretches as you process his words, the sound of the waves lapping against the ship filling the quiet.

“What’s your name?” “What’s your name?” you finally ask.

He blinks, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Ah? It’s Hael, ma’am…” he replies.

“Okay, Hael. I'll remember that.”

You notice the chill in the air as the wind picks up, and instinctively, you pull the coat sitting on your shoulders closer around your body.

“I didn’t expect to hear that,” you add, almost to yourself, as you glance back at him.

Hael manages to hold eye contact for only a few seconds before his eyes drop. “ was one of the people Vice Admiral Combs hated,” he confesses. “Having to hear his constant complaints and insults almost made me quit. Every day, it felt like I was walking on eggshells, waiting for the next outburst. But now that he’s gone... I don’t feel as scared anymore.” He pauses, struggling to find the right words, his hands continue fidgeting with the strap of his rifle. “I’m not sure how to thank you properly. I don’t have enough money to buy you gifts or anything like that.”

“Oh, it’s alright, Hael. You don’t need to worry about gifts or thanks. Honestly, what happened with Combs... it was an accident.” You can hear the uncertainty in your own voice as you admit this, the memory of that day hazy in your mind. “I’m not really proud of it. But if it helped to get rid of your burden, then that’s good enough for me.”

You can see the tension in Hael’s shoulders ease slightly, as if your reassurances have lifted some of the weight off his conscience.

“But I feel as though he was right. I am weak. Barely passed the physical test.” He sighs, adjusting his cap, which had slipped down to obscure his vision. The way his shoulders slump under the weight of his insecurities is telling, a physical manifestation of the thoughts that have been gnawing at him for some time. “I keep thinking... maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe I’m still not worthy of being here, to work with you and Admiral Ryokugyu-san.”

His words hit you harder than you’d anticipated. You turn to look at him, really look at him—taking in the way his eyes seem to carry the burden of his self-doubt.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Hael,” you say. “You’re still so young. How old are you?”

“21, ma’am,” he replies quietly, as if admitting it aloud makes him feel even smaller.

“21,” you repeat, more to yourself than to him. “That’s young, Hael. When I was 21, I didn’t have everything figured out either. In fact, I was just as confused and uncertain as you are now.” You offer him a small, reassuring smile, hoping to ease some of the tension you see in him. “There’s still a lot of time ahead of you.”

Hael looks at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. He hesitates, then finally asks, “Won’t we just slow you down?”

You raise an eyebrow, confused by his question. “We?”

Hael’s gaze shifts around the deck, and you follow his line of sight. Your attention is drawn to the other Marines on board. He shifts his weight nervously, taking a deep breath before continuing. “You’ve probably noticed by now, but the people on this mission are all lacking in their training. We’re not as polished or experienced as the usual Marines you work with. I’m no different. I’m behind on my training as well.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” you ask, trying to gauge his anxiety. “That you and the others might hold us back?”

Hael nods slowly, his eyes reflecting a deep-seated insecurity. “Exactly. I’ve seen how high the stakes are for this mission. If we’re not prepared, we might just end up causing more trouble than helping. I don’t want to be the reason this mission fails.”

You hold your hand up to your chin, thinking. “Think of it this way: this mission is a significant opportunity for you and the others to improve yourselves. We’re a team, and every team has its strengths and weaknesses. We’ll work together to cover each other’s gaps.”

Hael's eyes light up with a hint of realization, and he smiles, though it’s a small, hesitant one at first. “...Yeah, you’re right. I never thought about it that way.” His smile gradually widens, a genuine warmth replacing the earlier tension. “And now that I think about it, my baby sister said something similar.”

“You have a sister?”

He nods, his gaze softening as he talks about her. “Yes, her name’s Anna. She’s a lot younger than me. I told her all about you—well, about Combs and how things have changed since he’s gone.”

You widen your eyes. “You… told her I killed him?”

Hael’s face reddens slightly, and he frantically shakes his head. “Oh, gosh, no! I didn’t use the word ‘killed’ or anything like that. I thought it’s best to avoid such terms. I just told her that Vice Admiral (Y/N) helped me through a tough situation and that now I get to work with one of the Admirals. She was thrilled.”

You let out a relieved sigh, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. The thought of a child being exposed to such violence, especially the kind you had inflicted on Combs, was unsettling.

“You know… my sister really looks up to you,” Hael says suddenly, his tone earnest. “She even told me she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his words. “Really?” you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief. It’s hard to imagine that someone would look up to you after everything that’s happened.

Hael nods, a soft smile crossing his face. “Yes. She wants to be strong, like you. She says she wants to help people too, just like you do.” He chuckles lightly, the sound warm and full of affection. “She even told me she wants to help me. Can you imagine? A little girl like her wanting to take care of her older brother? Sweet girl.”

Watching Hael’s face light up as he talks about his sister is heartwarming, to say the least. The way his eyes soften and his voice carries a hint of pride—it’s clear how much she means to him. The nervousness that once tinged his voice seems to have faded, replaced by a genuine affection that makes you smile without even realizing it.

“You sound like a good brother,” you say.

A subtle blush creeps up on his cheeks, and he rubs the back of his neck, clearly flattered but a little embarrassed. “I’m flattered to hear that, ma’am. I really try to be one. But… I've just been so busy with training,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of guilt. “I want to get stronger, so I can protect my family.”

You take a moment to study Hael’s figure more closely. He’s not as frail as he seems to believe; in fact, he’s fairly well-built for a 21-year-old. His shoulders are broad, his posture is straight, and there’s a certain strength in the way he carries himself. Yet, despite his physical potential, it’s clear that his self-confidence—and perhaps his fighting skills—are holding him back.

Hael shifts slightly under your gaze, his eyes glancing down at his feet before he continues, “I’m currently the only man in the house. My father… he passed away a few years ago. As the oldest, my mother puts all her hopes on me. We’re not well off, so I don't want her to worry about feeding us. Enlisting seemed like the best option. It means a steady income, something to keep food on the table, even if I’m not always there.” His voice softens as he adds, “And, it does feel good to be part of something bigger, to work for a just cause.”

“Well,” you begin. “I’d say you’re doing a great job. The fact that you haven’t given up, despite everything, is impressive in and of itself. A lot of people would’ve crumbled under that kind of pressure, but here you are, standing tall. You’ll be just fine, Hael. I know it.”

He looks at you, his eyes wide with surprise, as if he’s not used to hearing such praise. Slowly, a small smile forms on his lips, the kind that reaches his eyes and lights up his face. “Thank you, Vice Admiral. That… that means a lot to me,” he says. “I won't let you down, as well as my family. I promise.”

You reach out and give him a firm pat on the back. “That’s the spirit, Hael,” you say. “Let’s do our best for the mission. We’ll bring those criminals to justice.”

He nods, a fire burning in his eyes burning harder than before. You can see the shift in him, the way he stands a little taller, shoulders squared with determination. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, his voice stronger now. “For the children, for the mission, and for those who can’t fight for themselves. I’ll make sure they’re safe.”

 

---

 

“They seem friendly.”

“...”

“Her leadership isn't terrible at all. Maybe this mission will end better than expected, Sakazuki-san?”

“We’ve been over this. The mission will succeed, and she’ll stop him. But that’s not the objective.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… she seems attached to that boy already.”

“...”

“I feel bad for her.”

“Don’t bother me with sentimentality. The plan is set, and I expect you to execute it exactly as I instructed.”

“...Right.”

“It’s for her sake. You know that as well as I do.”

“I know, it’s just—”

“Then don't waver… Aramaki.”

Notes:

1. HI EVERYBODY... I'm still stuck on chapter 1124 actually erm that's why it took me forever to write this

2. Alright uhhh considering the events of recent chapters (1124-1125), I'm actually a bit stumped on how to write certain characters in this fic... I thought this fic would currently take place during Egghead arc but Oda completely threw me off and now I'm not sure about the timeline anymore 😭 Bear with me okay I'll figure it out somehow, I don't want to spoil the canon story too much 💔

3. Aramaki's Vivre Card is finally out and wow! Turns out he's only 2 centimeters taller than Sakazuki and 1 year older than MC. Welp! I'm definitely not gonna fix his height for this fic.

4. Me when I finally make Sakazuki says her name again and it's not in a good context 🙈🙈🙈

Chapter 30: XXIX ; A HERO THAT DOESN'T EXIST

Notes:

Chapter title is a lyric from Scum Of The Earth by Rob Zombie.

The ship finally comes to a slow, gentle halt, the creaking of the wooden deck signaling its full stop. You glance around, frowning as you take in the unfamiliar shoreline. The island ahead is covered in dense jungle foliage, with jagged cliffs lining the coast. You turned your gaze back to the log pose, verifying the heading. This definitely wasn’t the right destination.

“What’s going on?” you mutter under your breath before striding across the deck. You make your way through until you spot Aramaki leaning lazily against the ship’s railing, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

“This isn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand, already knowing what you were about to say.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not the island.” He turns his head just enough to meet your questioning stare. “We’re just making a quick stop here. You’ll be heading to the real target on a different vessel.”

Your frown deepens. “Me? Alone?”

He straightens up slightly. “You’ll be taking a smaller boat to the real destination. Shouldn’t be too hard.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward a small skiff bobbing at the side of the ship. “They don’t allow Marines anywhere near that island. Whole place is bristling with weapons—cannons, mortars, God knows what else. If we show up in force, they’ll blow us out of the water before we even set foot on land. Now I'd love to take that challenge but our guys won't stand a chance.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask. “I’m supposed to just waltz right in on my own?”

Aramaki chuckled, shaking his head. “Not quite. You’ll be slipping in wearing a disguise.” He gestured loosely at your uniform, his lips curling into a smirk. “Hell, just lose the coat, make yourself more… rugged. And you’ll blend in with them just fine, (Y/N).”

You fold your arms over your chest, letting out an exasperated huff. “Is that your way of saying I look like a pirate?”

Aramaki chuckles, his grin widening. “Nah, you’re not that rough around the edges. But I do think you’ll pull off this infiltration better than most.”

“Fine, I’ll go change,” you mutter, heading toward the quarters below deck. The wooden steps creak underfoot as you make your way down, the distant sounds of chatter bustling around fading as you reach your private room.

Pushing open the door, you step inside and let out a low sigh. The small cabin is cramped but familiar, the only place you’ve been able to relax even a little over the past few days at sea. You cross the room in a few quick steps, reaching for the wardrobe set against the wall. Pulling it open, you start rifling through the contents, eyeing your limited selection of clothes.

Most of it are standard formal clothes, the crisp white coats and suits. None of that would work there. You dig deeper until your hand brushes against something softer—a faded linen shirt, worn from years of use. You pull it out along with a pair of cargo pants, their rough fabric giving off a distinctly rugged look.

“Closest thing to pirate wear I’ve got,” you murmur to yourself, holding up the garments for inspection.

You strip off your uniform quickly, shoving it unceremoniously into a corner of the wardrobe before slipping into the makeshift disguise. The linen shirt hangs loosely off your shoulders, and the pants sit lower on your hips than you’d like, cinched tight by a fraying leather belt. You glance down at your boots—still polished and far too clean for what you’re going for. Sighing, you scuff them against the floor a few times, letting dirt and dust mar the once-pristine surface.

Once you’re dressed, you turn to face the full-length mirror set against the wall. The person staring back at you doesn’t quite look like a pirate—not yet. If someone were to hold up your bounty poster right next to your face, it wouldn’t take them long to make the connection.

You frown, stepping closer to the mirror and adjusting the shirt’s collar. You run a hand through your hair, letting it fall messily around your face.

“Hm,” you hum thoughtfully, tilting your head as you scrutinize your reflection. It’s an improvement, but there’s still something off. Maybe you’re just too used to seeing yourself in uniform. This more casual, disheveled version feels unnatural.

“Good enough,” you murmur finally, stepping back from the mirror. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. You turn away, reaching for a few last details to complete the look—a bandana to cover your hair, a weathered jacket to hide your build. It’s a thin line between blending in and drawing attention, but you can’t afford to be recognized before you even set foot on the island.

You head back toward the deck. Your boots thud softly against the wooden floorboards as you make your way up, adjusting the bandana one last time before pushing the door open and stepping out into the open air.

You walk over to where Aramaki’s waiting, the skiff gently bobbing in the water beside you. He glances at your newly thrown-together outfit, his sharp eyes sweeping over every detail from the worn bandana to the dirt-smeared boots. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, with a small tilt of his head and a smirk tugging at his lips, he crosses his arms.

“You’re missing something,” he drawls.

You frown, glancing down at yourself. The jacket’s right, the bandana looks sufficiently scruffy, and your posture’s a little slouched—definitely far from the rigid stance you’re used to. “Missing something?” you repeat, confused.

“Yeah,” Aramaki hums thoughtfully, glancing around the deck. “You look the part, but you still don’t scream ‘pirate’.” His eyes narrow as if sizing you up, then he lets out a small “aha” sound, raising one hand.

Before you can question him, his fingers extend into thin, vine-like branches, snaking outwards faster than you can track. The tendrils twist and coil through the air, weaving between surprised crew members and dodging stray rigging lines until they zero in on a young, unassuming soldier standing by the ship’s railing.

“Hey, what the—?!” The Marine stumbles back as the branch loops around his waist, snatching the cutlass strapped to his side. He watches, slack-jawed and helpless, as his blade is lifted right off him, the weapon sailing smoothly back across the deck, carried by Aramaki’s outstretched arm.

“Sorry, kid. Just borrowing it,” Aramaki calls over his shoulder, waving off his bewildered protest. The sword’s hilt thunks into his palm, and he pulls it free from the branch with a single fluid motion, then turns back to you.

“Here,” he says simply, holding the cutlass out.

You blink, staring at the weapon. It’s nothing fancy—just a standard-issue blade with a plain hilt and a slightly scuffed edge—but it’s really not your style.

“Take it,” Aramaki insists when you hesitate. He flips the cutlass around, offering the hilt first. “What pirate doesn't carry around a weapon?”

“I’m already carrying one. Do I really need more?” you quip, raising an eyebrow as you gesture at your tanto.

“What, that small knife?” he scoffs, a grin tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t hurt to carry something with more reach.”

For a moment, you consider refusing, but it looks like he's really insisting on it. With a sigh, you take the cutlass from his hand, and attach it to your belt where it hangs awkwardly at your hip. This outfit feels foreign and unnatural, but you remind yourself of the role you’re playing. The disguise is key to the plan. You can endure the discomfort.

“So,” you begin, adjusting the blade to sit more comfortably, “this guy we’re after… Moretti. What’s his deal? I read the reports—he’s been trafficking children for more than a decade. How did no one capture him in all that time?”

Aramaki leans against the ship’s railing, fixing his sunglasses. The island you’re headed for is just visible in the distance, a shadowy outline against the endless blue of the ocean. “The Marines got close a few times,” he admits, his voice dropping as if sharing a bitter truth. “Almost had him. But then, one day, someone showed up on that island. Someone real important. And just like that, Moretti was untouchable.”

Your eyes narrow, your curiosity piqued by the vagueness of his answer. “Important how?” you press, though you already suspect where this is going.

Aramaki’s lips twist into a grim smile as he turns to you, his voice laced with irony. “Important as in wearing a bubble and dragging slaves by chains. A World Noble. A Celestial Dragon gave Moretti his free pass.”

Your jaw tightens as you process the implications. The man you’re about to face isn’t just a scumbag criminal; he’s someone shielded by the highest authority in the world. A monster with the devil's blessing.

“Figures,” you mutter, your tone bitter. “Much like why the slave trades in Sabaody Archipelago are still allowed.”

Aramaki nods, his expression unreadable as he turns his gaze back to the nearing island. “Exactly. You’re starting to get it.”

The ship slows to a near stop as it approaches the island, a small speck of tropical green surrounded by a shimmering blue expanse. From a distance, it looks unassuming, almost idyllic, with its dense forest canopy swaying gently in the breeze. The chirping of birds echoes faintly across the water, mixing with the creak of the ship’s hull and the splash of waves against its sides.

You lean against the railing, watching as a group of Marines descends from the main vessel to prepare a smaller, less conspicuous ship moored just a few feet away.

“Now, Moretti doesn’t just let anyone in,” Aramaki says, breaking the silence. He leans beside you, arms crossed, his voice low but firm. “He’s very particular about his guests. And I mean very particular. Word is, he’s got a serious grudge against the Marines. He’ll kill one on sight without a second thought.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Great. That’s encouraging.”

Aramaki smirks but doesn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the shoreline. You take a deep breath, nodding as you process the warning. “Even dressed as a pirate, though, I’m a stranger. He’s never met me before. I imagine he won’t exactly roll out the welcome mat.”

“Not at first,” Aramaki agrees, turning to face you. “But there’s a way to make him listen.”

You tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate. “And that is?”

“It’s simple,” he says, almost too casually. “When he asks who you are, give him the name ‘Saint Kilgore.’”

The name makes you pause. “Saint Kilgore?”

“Yeah,” Aramaki replies, leaning closer as if to emphasize the weight of the revelation. “He’s the Celestial Dragon I told you about. Kilgore and Moretti are tight—real close. Kilgore’s his top client, and if you drop his name, Moretti won’t ask too many questions. He’ll assume you’re here on Kilgore’s behalf, maybe to make a purchase or finalize a deal.”

Your stomach churns at the implication. “A purchase? You mean the children...”

Aramaki doesn’t flinch. His nonchalance grates against your nerves. “Exactly. Moretti doesn’t risk offending someone like Kilgore. If you play it right, he’ll treat you like royalty.” He pauses, then adds with a shrug, “For a while, at least.”

You let the information sink in, the weight of it pressing heavily on your chest. “And if he doesn’t buy it? If he figures out I’m lying?”

Aramaki adjusts his sunglasses, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Then I’d say you’d better hope your acting skills are top-notch. But hey, you’ve gotten this far. I’m sure you can handle it.”

“That’s… reassuring,” you mutter, crossing your arms. The plan is thin, balancing precariously on the hope that a name will carry enough weight to shield you from suspicion. “And if it doesn’t work?”

He shrugs again, infuriatingly calm. “Then you improvise. Look, Moretti values hospitality—it’s part of his whole deal. As long as you stay on his good side, things should go smoothly. Probably. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” you echo, the word leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Aramaki chuckles, though it does little to ease the tension knotting in your chest. “Relax. Everything will be fine. If that bastard so much as touches a hair on you, just holler, and we’ll come blasting in with everything we’ve got.”

The words hang heavily in the air between you, and you see the realization dawn on him. You shake your head immediately, your voice firm. “No, don’t do that. The children…”

His smirk fades, lips pressing into a thin, straight line. “Oh. Right.”

You let the silence stretch for a moment before exhaling. “Well, I think I should go now,” you say, gesturing toward the smaller ship being prepared by the Marines. “Looks like they’re about done.”

Pushing yourself off the railing, you stretch your arms and neck, trying to shake off the growing unease. The sun beats down warmly, but it does little to dispel the chill creeping up your spine. You begin to make your way toward the stairs leading down to the island.

Behind you, Aramaki follows, his presence more noticeable than usual. Just as you place your foot on the first step, you feel his hand wrap around your arm, halting you mid-motion.

You glance back at him, puzzled. “Hm?”

His expression is unreadable at first, but something flickers in his eyes—a shadow of an emotion you can’t quite place. It sends a shiver down your spine, an inexplicable unease settling in your gut. “Just wanna say… good luck,” he says, his voice quieter than before.

You part your lips to thank him, but he interrupts you.

“…And I’m sorry.”

For a moment, the world feels like it tilts sideways. You stare at him, your brow furrowing as you try to decipher the sudden shift in his demeanor. And then it clicks—the look in his eyes. Pity.

“Huh—?”

But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone. His expression shifts, his usual grin snapping back into place as if nothing had happened. “Alright! Off you go, Vice Admiral!” he says cheerfully, releasing your arm with an exaggerated flourish.

The change is jarring, and your instincts scream at you to press him further. But you know there’s no time to waste. The mission looms ahead, and any delay could cost you the element of surprise. You manage a faint nod and begin your descent, though your mind is far from calm. 

The stairs creak faintly under your weight, each step bringing you closer to the sandy ground below. When you reach the bottom, you turn back, unable to resist one last look. Aramaki stands at the railing, his silhouette framed by the bright sky. He raises a thumb in your direction, his grin widening in what you assume is meant to be encouragement.

It doesn’t work. The unease gnaws at you, clawing at the edges of your thoughts. You force yourself to return a small, half-hearted smile, but it vanishes the moment you face forward again. Something about this doesn’t feel right. Aramaki may be odd—an eccentric even—but this was different. That look in his eyes, fleeting as it was, lingers in your mind.

Your boots crunch softly against the sand as you approach the smaller ship the Marines have prepared for you. The closer you get, the more you take in its battered state. The wood is worn and splintered in places, patches of mismatched boards covering old damage. The sails are stained and frayed, barely holding onto their rigging. At first glance, it looks convincing—a vessel any ragtag pirate crew might use. But its condition suggests a history of rough voyages and perhaps a few close calls with the law.

You run your fingers along the edge of the hull, the coarse texture of weathered wood meeting your touch. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do. You cast one last glance at the main ship and see Aramaki still watching, his grin steadfast, though you can’t shake the memory of the apology hidden beneath it.

With a heavy sigh, you climb aboard the smaller vessel, the uneven deck creaking under your weight. As the Marines make their final adjustments to the sails, you settle into your role. Whatever doubts linger, you push them aside. There’s no room for hesitation now.

 

---

 

The man standing before you appears to be in his mid-thirties. His dark brown hair is slicked back neatly, the faint shine of product glinting under the sunlight. A well-groomed mustache and light stubble frame his sharp features, giving him an air of refinement. He’s dressed impeccably in a white tuxedo, with a black shirt underneath and a perfectly tied bow tie.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a high-society butler or perhaps a wealthy patron preparing for a gala. There’s not a single indication in his appearance that screams pirate, but the company he keeps tells another story.

Two men stand beside him, dressed in similar formal attire, though their tuxedos are black with white shirts—a reversed image of their leader’s. Unlike him, however, they lack his poise. Their rifles are trained on you, fingers hovering near the triggers, their eyes cold and unblinking.

Your gaze shifts briefly past them to the rest of the compound. Guards are stationed across the way, a dozen or more of them strategically positioned near the entrance to the imposing building at the island's heart. They’re alert, disciplined, and heavily armed. This isn’t some ragtag pirate den—it’s a fortress, and these men mean business. You know that the Marines waiting on the ship, apart from Aramaki, wouldn’t last five minutes against them in a direct assault.

The man before you tilts his head back slightly, the motion exuding an air of superiority. His eyes roam over you, taking in your attire and demeanor with thinly veiled disdain. His lips curl into a smirk, condescending and amused.

“Well, what do we have here?” he begins, his tone smooth but cutting. His sharp eyes scan you from head to toe, lingering just long enough to make you uncomfortable. “Why, you dress… like the stereotypical pirate. And I presume you are one.”

You suppress a sigh, keeping your expression neutral. His assessment, while true, stings more than you care to admit. His eyes flick to the cutlass hanging at your hip and the worn leather of your boots, and you catch the faintest scoff. You don’t miss the way the guards tighten their grips on their rifles, their attention on you unwavering.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply curtly.

Moretti’s smirk falters ever so slightly, his expression shifting to one of disapproval. It’s clear he doesn’t buy it—not yet, anyway. “I’ve never seen you before,” he states flatly, narrowing his eyes. His tone hardens, the condescension giving way to suspicion. “How did you find this place?”

“I—”

He cuts you off with a sharp wave of his hand, his voice rising slightly. “And I’ll have you know, I don’t take kindly to strangers wandering onto my island uninvited. So, let me ask you again: how did you find this place?”

The tension escalates as the guards beside him shift, their fingers brushing against the triggers of their rifles. It’s a silent warning, one that’s impossible to ignore. Your pulse quickens, but outwardly, you remain calm.

Impatient people, you think.

“Saint Kilgore.”

The reaction is immediate. The guards’ fingers retreat from their triggers, their postures relaxing ever so slightly. Moretti’s eyes widen in surprise, the name clearly carrying significant weight. It lasts only a moment before his expression smooths over, but you don’t miss it.

“...Ah,” he finally says, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. He raises a hand, signaling for his men to lower their weapons. They obey without hesitation, the rifles dropping to their sides.

“Well,” Moretti continues, his tone less hostile now, though still guarded, “I wasn’t informed of this beforehand. But alright.” He lowers his hand, clasping it behind his back as he takes a step closer to you. His polished shoes crunch softly against the gravel path, and his sharp eyes never leave yours.

“How much does he want this time?” Moretti asks, his voice smooth and businesslike. He gestures vaguely toward the building behind him. “I’ve got plenty of new arrivals. Some particularly strong fish-men, if he’s interested.”

Your stomach churns at his casual mention of enslaved beings, but you force your expression to remain neutral. Every instinct in your body screams to lash out, but you know you can’t. Not yet. Instead, you shift your weight slightly, carefully considering your next words.

“He told me to look around. Choose some good ones for him,” you say, keeping your voice as flat and emotionless as possible.

Moretti raises an eyebrow, studying you carefully. His lips curl into a smirk, though the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is that so? Well, there are plenty of ‘good ones,’ as you put it. Come, I’ll show you.”

With a flick of his hand, the guards step aside to make way, their rifles shifting slightly as they track your every movement. Their gazes bore into you, sharp and suspicious. Unlike their boss, they clearly don’t trust you—or, at the very least, they don’t trust you enough to relax. You glance at them briefly, noting their tense postures and firm grips on their weapons. It’s clear they’re ready to act at the first sign of trouble.

Your eyes return to Moretti as he strides ahead. His white tuxedo gleams under the sun, an almost absurd sight against the grim reality of this island. With his back turned to you, the temptation flares—a primal urge to strike now, to put an end to this man and his operation. But you know better. Acting impulsively would destroy the mission and put the innocent lives at risk.

Patience, you tell yourself. This has to go perfectly.

Is it really this easy? The thought gnaws at you as you follow him down a narrow gravel path. Something feels off, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“What’s your name?” Moretti asks suddenly.

You falter for a second, caught off guard. “My name? It’s…”

Before you can finish, he waves a dismissive hand. “No matter. I don’t really care.” His nonchalance is almost insulting, but you can’t help but feel a flicker of relief. At least you don’t have to risk giving him a fake name that could be tied back to you later.

You manage a small nod, but before you can settle, his next question hits you like a sucker punch. “What does Saint Kilgore look like?”

His tone has shifted, and you can tell this isn’t mere curiosity—it’s a test.

Your stomach tightens, but you keep your expression neutral. You’re walking a fine line now. Too much hesitation, and he’ll see right through you. Too much confidence, and you risk giving the wrong answer.

You take a steadying breath, choosing your words carefully. “...Black hair?” you venture, but the uncertainty in your tone betrays you. It sounds more like a question than a statement.

Moretti slows his pace, glancing back at you with narrowed eyes. The corners of his mouth twitch downward in a frown. “Okay,” he says slowly, dragging the word out. “Facial hair?”

You hesitate again, your mind racing. “...Yes.”

His frown deepens, and he stops walking altogether. The abrupt halt sends your heart racing.

“And his weight?” he asks.

“What?” The word escapes you before you can stop it, a reflexive reaction to the absurdity of the question. Of all the things he could ask, why this?

You can’t help but grit your teeth. This man’s smug, probing demeanor is starting to grate on you. You force yourself to focus, pushing aside the irritation. Think. What would he want to hear? Celestial Dragons aren’t exactly known for their athleticism.

“Answer me,” he snaps, his patience wearing thin.

You suppress a groan. “...Slightly overweight?” you say, though your voice carries the faintest edge of doubt.

The air grows thick with tension as Moretti stands perfectly still. His back is to you, but you can see his shoulders stiffen. Your pulse quickens, and you feel the weight of the guards’ eyes on you again.

Did he catch me?

The silence stretches uncomfortably long before Moretti turns slowly to face you. His sharp eyes bore into yours, unreadable yet unnervingly intense. “Really?” he asks, barely hiding his amusement.

You meet his gaze head-on, forcing yourself to stay calm. “Mhm,” you reply, a hint of nonchalance creeping into your tone as if the answer was obvious all along.

There’s a flicker of surprise in his expression, quickly masked by a sardonic grin. “Oh, I see,” he says with a low chuckle. He pivots on his heel, continuing down the path. “Haven’t seen him in so long. I guess he put on some weight, then. Old fool.”

You let out a quiet, shaky sigh of relief as he turns away. That was close. While it’s clear your guess wasn’t entirely accurate, luck—or perhaps Moretti’s assumptions—seems to have worked in your favor. For now.

“I apologize for doubting you earlier. It seems to me you really are acquainted with Saint Kilgore,” Moretti says. His eyes linger on you as if trying to peel back any remaining layers of doubt. “Alright, we’re almost there. What about the fish-men I mentioned? Would you like to see them?”

You give a shrug, masking your unease. “Sure. Why not?”

The path winds through lush greenery, but the natural beauty does little to ease the tension knotting in your chest. As the building looms closer, a sense of foreboding creeps in, crawling along your spine. This was it—the heart of his operation.

At the entrance, Moretti stops abruptly. He turns to you, his hand extending with an air of authority. “But before I show you the merchandise,” he begins, his tone shifting to something more measured, “I must ask you to surrender your cutlass. You understand, I’m sure—it’s for safety purposes. We wouldn’t want to scare the children, would we?”

His lips curl into a practiced smile, but the glint in his eyes betrays him. He doesn’t care about scaring anyone. This is about control.

“Oh, right.” You reach for the blade at your hip, the worn handle rough against your palm. You force a casual tone. “You can have it,” you say, handing it over firmly.

Moretti’s fingers close around the weapon, and his smile widens into something smug. “Thank you. A wise choice. Well then, my esteemed guest,” he says, theatrically gesturing toward the door, “welcome in.”

With a flourish, he turns the brass knob and pushes the heavy door open.

The air inside is stifling, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and something metallic—blood? Your eyes are immediately drawn upward to a grand chandelier dangling from the high ceiling. The crystal ornaments catch the light, casting fragmented rainbows across the room. For a fleeting moment, it’s almost beautiful.

But the opulence ends there.

Beneath the chandelier, rows of cages stretch out like a grim maze, each one housing figures huddled in varying degrees of despair. Human beings, their eyes hollowed by fear and exhaustion. The fish-men he mentioned are larger, their vibrant scales dulled by the dim lighting and their spirits crushed by captivity. Some of the children cling to one another, their small frames trembling as they stare vacantly through the bars.

The sight punches you in the gut. It takes everything you have to keep your composure.

Moretti strides forward, his polished shoes clacking against the tiled floor. His posture is proud, his gait casual, as though he were giving a tour of his prized estate. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” he says, his voice brimming with pride. “Kilgore always has impeccable taste, so I make sure to offer only the finest. He’s quite fond of fish-men, you see. Strong, resilient, exotic. Perfect for… well, you understand.”

You can barely hear him over the roaring in your ears. Your fingers twitch at your sides, itching for action, but you clench your fists tightly, willing yourself to stay calm. Not yet. Just a little longer.

You glance at him, forcing your lips into a smile—a mirror of his twisted one. He beams back at you, oblivious to the storm brewing within you. His pride radiates off him like a sickening aura, and the sight makes your stomach churn.

“Go on, take a look,” he urges, gesturing toward the rows of cages. “I’m sure Kilgore will be thrilled with these options. A fine collection, wouldn’t you agree?”

You step forward slowly, each movement deliberate as you survey the scene. The faces staring back at you range from terrified to resigned, their eyes pleading for salvation or at least understanding. Your heart aches, but you bury it deep beneath the mask you wear.

You turn back to Moretti, that practiced smile still plastered on your face. “Yes,” you say smoothly, “I’m sure Kilgore will be very pleased.”

And I'll be even more pleased to kill you, you goddamn piece of shit.

Notes:

1. Oookay not gonna lie I've been very demotivated to continue writing this fic because I'm actually working on another multichapter fic. And it turned out that the solution for this problem is to reread this fic and be mad at the author (myself) for not updating like girl what happened next!!!

2. Updates still won't be consistent because (and I'm very sick of saying this over and over again) I have another exams coming soon starting on December and it'll end some time on early February. Yeah, that's a long time but this exam is actually a very big deal for us because it'll literally determine if we're able to get into universities and work or not so... I need to lock in!!! (I'm not)

3. And if you're wondering... I stole the name "Kilgore" from Tacitus Kilgore.

Chapter 31: XXX ; GONE WITH THE SIN

Notes:

Chapter title is a song by HIM.

“There’s still a lot more,” Moretti says, as he gestures toward the cages. “These here are just the… better ones, if you will.” His gaze flits over the occupants like they’re livestock, nothing more than inventory to him. Many of them sit in the corners of their cages, their eyes burning with a mixture of fear and defiance. Some, however, seem too broken to muster even that, their stares hollow and distant.

“They’re quite the fighters,” Moretti continues, hands clasped behind his back as he strolls along the row of cages. “It’ll take some time to tame them, of course. But I’m sure Kilgore doesn’t mind. After all, he’s only got one true favourite.”

Your jaw tightens at his words, but you force yourself to remain composed. You offer him a polite nod, pretending to absorb his drivel. Inside, your thoughts race. Damn it, Aramaki. You couldn’t have told me more about this Kilgore guy? You’re flying blind here, unsure how much longer you can keep up the act. Every second feels like a gamble.

Moretti stops in front of one of the larger cages, his grin widening. Inside, a young albeit burly fish-man sits chained to the wall, his vibrant scales dulled by grime and his muscular frame bearing scars of repeated punishments. His fierce, yellow eyes glare back at Moretti with unyielding hatred.

“That one,” Moretti says, his tone almost giddy, “was supposed to be sold in Sabaody Archipelago. Prime specimen, isn’t he? But wouldn’t you know it, the idiot managed to escape before the handoff.” He chuckles to himself, trying to stifle it but failing miserably. “Can you believe it? He thought he could blend in, hiding out in some shop, pretending to be a customer. We caught him three days later. Brains aren’t exactly their strong suit.”

You exhale quietly through your nose, biting back the urge to say something that would blow your cover. This guy talks way too much. It’s insufferable. Your eyes flick over the other cages, catching glimpses of more prisoners—all ranging from different ages but none you could call a grown adult.

“Oh, also, that one—”

“Hey,” you interject abruptly, your tone casual but firm enough to halt his ramblings. “I’m kinda thirsty.”

Moretti blinks, clearly caught off guard by your interruption. For once, he doesn’t have a snide remark at the ready. “Thirsty?” he echoes, his head tilting slightly. Then, as if realizing he’s been derailed, he straightens and huffs.

“Well, yes, of course. My apologies for not offering you refreshments sooner. It seems I got a bit… carried away.” There’s not a shred of shame in his tone, only self-satisfaction. “What would you like? We have wine, rum, or perhaps something lighter?”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. At least he’s self-aware enough to know he talks too damn much.

“Just... anything is fine,” you say, deliberately turning your gaze away from the cages. You can’t stand to look at their frightened eyes any longer, knowing that, for now, there’s nothing you can do to help them. Not yet.

Moretti motions for you to follow him deeper into the building. Mansion? Fortress? You're not sure what to call it. The outside gave no real indication of the twisted stuff it got inside, but its purpose is clear now.

You walk past row after row of cages, the clanking of chains and muffled whimpers echoing faintly through the corridors. Each pair of eyes follows you, some burning with anger, others empty with despair. The silent pleas cut deeper than any scream, but you steel yourself, refusing to let it show.

Just as you turn the corner, a hand shoots out from one of the cages, gripping your arm tightly. The sudden force makes you stumble back.

“Wh—!?”

“No… Don't leave us. Please…”

The voice is small, trembling, but desperate. You look down and see a girl, no older than fifteen. Her grip is weak, trembling, but her eyes... they are boring into yours with terror and hope. She’s well-fed, her frame not as emaciated as you had imagined the conditions of those trapped in here, and her ragged clothing is still intact, but it does little to mask her situation.

“Please, miss,” she whispers again, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, don’t—”

Her plea is cut short as the butt of a rifle slams against her arm, forcing her to recoil. She cries out, clutching her bruised limb as one of Moretti’s guards steps forward, shoving her roughly back into the cage. He presses the rifle’s muzzle against her face.

Your heart lurches, anger flaring hotter than you can control. Before you realize it, you’re already moving.

You step in, gripping the rifle with one hand and forcing it downward with enough strength to make the guard’s arms jerk. His head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise, but he recovers quickly and tries to wrench the weapon away. Your grip, however, doesn’t budge.

“Let go, bitch,” he growls, though his voice wavers as he realizes the strength in your grip.

You don’t say anything, your silence more threatening than words. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, he falters.

“What’s going on here?” Moretti’s voice cuts through the tension, not hiding the irritation in it. He steps forward, hands clasped behind his back, his posture exuding authority. His tone shifts slightly, a warning hidden in his words. “Alright, enough of that. I’d prefer there to be no disturbances today. It’s always such a hassle to clean up.”

You glare at the guard for a few seconds longer before finally releasing the rifle with a sharp shove, making it clear your restraint isn’t due to fear but calculation. You can’t risk blowing your cover now.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and follow Moretti again, leaving the guard to mutter curses under his breath. The girl’s muffled sobs follow you for a few steps, then fade as Moretti leads you further into the building.

The atmosphere begins to shift the deeper you go. The cramped, dingy hallways lined with cages gradually give way to a lavish interior. Gilded chandeliers hang from vaulted ceilings, their crystal ornaments casting shimmering patterns on the polished floors. Walls are adorned with expensive tapestries and paintings, all radiating opulence.

Yet, for all its extravagance, the place feels suffocating. The lingering smell of blood seeps through the pleasant aroma of imported and expensive perfumes, like a sinister undercurrent. You can’t escape it.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk through the mansion, noting the absence of guards trailing behind you. Moretti strides confidently ahead, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor. The temptation rises within you, tugging at the corners of your mind. The grand vases brimming with delicate flowers lining the corridor walls seem to call out. You imagine grabbing one and bringing it crashing down on the back of his smug head.

But then what? Your eyes flicker toward the direction you came from. What would happen to the children? You know the cages you passed are just for show. Men like Moretti don’t keep all their “merchandise” out in the open. There are surely more—hidden away in the mansion’s depths, tucked behind locked doors. If you acted now, the consequences would be catastrophic.

You exhale sharply, pushing the thought aside. Maybe later.

Moretti stops outside a white wooden door, his fingers resting lightly on the knob. He turns back to you with that same insufferable smile. “Here we are,” he says with exaggerated politeness. “Why don’t you go in and make yourself comfortable while I prepare your drink?”

He twists the knob and pushes the door open with a practiced flourish. You step forward and peer inside. The room is elegant, with two pristine white couches facing each other across a gleaming coffee table. The large window at the far end lets in streams of golden sunlight, making the room look deceptively warm and inviting. But to you, it feels as cold and hollow as the rest of this damned shithole.

You step through the doorway, sparing Moretti one last glance. His smile hasn’t faltered, though there’s a glint in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. He gives you a slight bow before gently closing the door.

The soft click of the latch echoes in the quiet room. Alone, you take the opportunity to scan your surroundings.

The walls are adorned with oversized paintings of idyllic landscapes—rolling green hills, tranquil lakes, dense forests. Their vibrant colors feel jarring, a cruel mockery of the suffering hidden just outside this room. You step closer to one of the couches, running your fingers along the soft fabric of the cushion. The material is expensive, luxurious even. You sit down slowly, crossing your legs, and lean back.

If Moretti returns alone, it could be your chance. He has no idea you’re armed. Your tanto is safely hidden in the waistband of your pants, concealed beneath your shirt. Maybe you could press it against his neck and force him to comply. March him outside, demand he order the guards to unlock the cages. Maybe you could get the children out.

But something about the plan feels too simple, too risky. Moretti is cunning, that much is obvious. The smug smile he wears isn’t just for show; there’s something deeper behind it, something you can’t quite place.

The sound of the door creaking open pulls you from your thoughts. Moretti steps inside, balancing a silver tray with two ornate porcelain cups. Steam rises from the cups, curling in delicate wisps. He approaches the coffee table, placing the tray down with a measured precision.

“Black tea,” he announces, taking one cup and placing it in front of you. He sets the other on the opposite side of the table before settling into the couch across from you. “I assume that’s acceptable?”

“Sure,” you reply curtly, making no move to touch the cup.

He notices your hesitation, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “I have this little policy, you see,” he says, leaning back casually. “I always let my guests drink first. A matter of courtesy.” He smirks, raising a brow. “And you did mention being thirsty. Am I wrong?”

You glance at the tea, then back at him. Every instinct screams at you not to trust him. It could be poisoned, drugged, or worse. You don’t respond, your silence betraying your suspicion.

Moretti chuckles softly as if amused by your wariness. “Ah, I see,” he says, feigning disappointment. “You think I’ve poisoned it. Very well.” Without hesitation, he takes the cup meant for you and swaps it with his own. “Here,” he says, lifting the cup to his lips. He takes a slow, deliberate sip, his eyes never leaving yours. Setting the cup down, he spreads his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Satisfied? Or perhaps you’re afraid it tastes bad? I can assure you, I make an excellent cup of tea.”

You frown, still uncertain. Aramaki’s words echo in your mind: Moretti values hospitality. If he truly believes you’re here on Saint Kilgore’s behalf, he wouldn’t dare risk offending you. Poisoning a supposed representative of a Celestial Dragon would be suicidal.

Still, your instincts don’t fully quiet. You glance at the tea again. Ah, what the hell, you think, I'll just get my job done before the poison kicks in, if he really did put it in the tea.

With that, you grab the cup and down its contents in one swift motion. The tea is hot, almost scalding, but you don’t flinch. You place the empty cup back on the table and lean back, meeting Moretti’s gaze with a calm expression.

His smile widens. “Good,” he says softly. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s talk.”

“Do you have more of them somewhere in here?” you ask, keeping your voice level despite the bile rising in your throat.

Moretti leans back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Why, of course. The ones you saw? They’re the most capable, the strongest of the lot. I feed them well, keep them in prime condition, so when Kilgore comes to pick, he has only the best to choose from.” He crosses his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “The others? Worth almost nothing, really. I keep them around for the occasional buyer with… lesser standards. A man’s got to cater to all markets, after all.”

“Capable,” you repeat, your voice cold. “And what does that mean exactly? What are they capable of?”

Moretti’s smirk gradually grows, as if you’ve just asked the most asinine question in existence. “Hm? Is that a serious question?” He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Do you really not know?”

You stiffen, your mind scrambling for a response. Damn it. If you admit ignorance, it’ll raise his suspicions further, and you’re already on thin ice.

“To tell you the truth…” you begin, letting a hint of nervousness creep into your tone. “I’m here on Kilgore’s behalf because… well…” You bite your lip, pretending to struggle for words. “I’m trying to win his heart.”

Moretti freezes, his smirk faltering for the first time. You press on, knowing you have to sell this ridiculous story. “He wanted to see if I could handle this task for him, you know? To prove my devotion. That’s why I’m here. But…” You glance away, feigning embarrassment. “I don’t fully understand what he needs these children for. I didn’t want to ask him directly and seem… unworthy.”

For a moment, Moretti just stares at you, his mouth slightly agape. Then he bursts out laughing, the sound loud and crude, a far cry from his earlier polished demeanor. You almost want to laugh along with him—more at the absurdity of your own excuse than anything else.

“Oh…” he finally says, wiping at the corner of his eye. “That’s a brave act of… love, I suppose.” His tone is skeptical, but it seems your explanation has at least deflected some of his suspicion. He doesn’t press further, which is a small victory in itself.

Moretti leans back, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement. “I don’t really care what happens to the kids after I sell them,” he begins casually. “But Kilgore? Now, he’s a peculiar man. I can’t help but take an interest in his methods.”

He gazes out the window, his expression briefly contemplative. “He’s quite the gambler, you see. There’s this underground operation on some remote island. They pit kids against each other in brutal fights to the death. Spectators place their bets on who’ll come out on top. It’s all highly illegal, of course, but Kilgore’s a Celestial Dragon. Rules don’t apply to him.”

Your stomach churns, but you force yourself to remain impassive as Moretti continues. “The kids he buys go through rigorous training, learning the basics of combat. Most sellers can’t offer that, but Kilgore? He demands a certain… standard. When his chosen fighters win, he rakes in the money, as well as some sick sense of entertainment.”

You exhale sharply, letting the weight of his words sink in. It’s a lot to process, but there’s one detail earlier that catches your attention. “You mentioned he had a favourite?”

Moretti’s expression hardens, the shift in his demeanor palpable. “Ah, yes,” he says quietly. “Years ago, there was a girl. The strongest one there. She never lost a single fight. Kilgore adored her, practically made her his prized possession.” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “Then one day, she vanished. Just like that. Didn't took him long to recover honestly—he came crawling back to me for replacements.”

Your mind races with the implications of his words, but you keep your voice flat as you ask, “Why don’t you take me to see those who are less… capable?”

Moretti narrows his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. “Why would you want to see them?”

“You said his favourite champion went missing,” you reply smoothly. “I thought I might bring him someone with similar potential. Someone he can mold into a new champion.”

“The ones you’ve already seen are far better suited for that,” he counters, his tone firm.

“You never know,” you interject quickly, leaning forward as if eager to prove your point. “I have an eye for these sorts of things. None of the ones I’ve seen so far have the spark Kilgore would want in a true champion. Trust me, if I don’t see them, he’ll be disappointed.”

He exhales sharply through his nose. “Wouldn’t want that now, would we…” he says. “As you wish, then.”

You begin to rise from the couch to follow him, but he stretches out a hand in front of you. The sudden gesture makes you pause. You glance at his hand, then back at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue in feigned exasperation. “Haven’t you ever been to a formal setting before? It’s customary to seal an agreement with a handshake. It’s a show of good faith—a way to ensure that both sides are on good terms.” His eyes narrow slightly, his expression calculating. “And I want to trust that you won’t cause any… trouble if I bring you to them.”

You hesitate, but only for a moment. It feels like a test, another move in his game to gauge your intentions. Without thinking it through fully, you extend your hand and clasp his.

The instant your fingers curl around his, a jarring wave of weakness crashes through you. Your knees buckle, and a startled gasp escapes your lips. Instinctively, you plant your free hand on the coffee table to steady yourself, causing it to wobble. The fragile cups topple off, shattering against the floor in a cascade of porcelain shards.

Your breath hitches, your chest heaving as you look up at him through ragged breaths. His expression remains calm, though his eyes glint with something cold. He looks down at you as though you’re nothing more than a wounded animal.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice coming out condescending.

Your gaze darts to your joined hands, and your stomach twists. There, on his middle finger, sits a ring—a band of polished black. You could swear it wasn’t there before.

It can't be.

Seastone…?

You yank your hand away, the action so abrupt it almost feels like tearing away from a trap. The moment your skin breaks contact with the ring, the oppressive weakness begins to fade. You straighten slowly, forcing yourself to stand tall and mask your unease.

“Nothing,” you mutter, your tone clipped. You motion for him to lead the way, trying to brush it off. “Let’s just go.”

He watches you for a moment, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips. Then he rises from his seat, brushing invisible dust from his suit before gesturing toward the door. “Right this way,” he says smoothly.

You follow, but not without hesitation. You keep a measured distance behind him, your eyes never leaving his back. Your right hand flexes instinctively at your side, a flicker of water pooling in your palm. You clench your fist tightly, the moisture dissipating as quickly as it formed.

There’s no mistaking it. That ring he wore—it had to be seastone. You’re sure of it. You had studied every detail about him earlier, had memorized every article of clothing, every accessory, and that ring hadn’t been there. Your jaw tightens as you narrow your eyes at his retreating figure.

Did he do it on purpose? That bastard…

“There will be a long flight of stairs,” he says suddenly, breaking the tense silence. “I hope you’re not tired.”

“I’m not,” you snap, your irritation seeping through despite your best efforts to stay composed.

He doesn’t respond, but you can feel the smugness radiating off him, as if he’s relishing your discomfort. It’s almost as though he can sense your anger and suspicion. You grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter again.

 

---

 

“Are you alright, sir? Do you want something to drink?”

Aramaki looks up sharply, startled out of his thoughts. His tired gaze lands on the young Marine standing before him. The boy’s face is earnest, a little too innocent for what’s about to happen.

Aramaki exhales heavily, shifting his focus to the island before glancing back at the boy. Right… This is the one she spoke to earlier. He hadn't paid much attention at the time, but up close, the kid looks even younger than he initially thought.

“I’m good,” Aramaki replies after a beat, his tone gruffer than he intended. “Just go and keep watch around the deck.”

The boy hesitates for a moment, as if he’s about to ask something else, but instead, he brings his hand to his forehead in a salute. Aramaki acknowledges the gesture with a faint nod, watching as he retreats back to his post.

When the young man is out of sight, Aramaki drags a hand across his face, his fingers pausing at his temple as he massages it lightly.

He had sworn he wouldn’t learn their names, wouldn’t look too closely at their faces. You need the detachment, Sakazuki had told him. And for once, he had agreed without arguement. Names made things personal. Faces made things harder.

But even now, he wonders if that really matters. Personal or not, it doesn’t change what’s coming.

Aramaki’s gaze drifts to the papers in his hand, the roster of Marines aboard. Over a thousand names listed in neat, emotionless rows. On paper, it hadn’t seemed like much—just numbers, just names. But standing here now, seeing them in flesh and blood, hearing their voices, the weight of it is suffocating.

And for the first time since he was drafted, he’s doubting Sakazuki’s orders.

The realization churns in his gut like spoiled wine, bitter and nauseating. But what choice does he have? He’s an Admiral, and a good Admiral follows orders without question. That’s the way it’s always been. The way it has to be.

But even as he tells himself that, the words feel hollow. None of this is right. None of it.

Aramaki knows that better than anyone. This isn’t a mission of justice, no matter how Sakazuki tries to frame it.

His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword.

It’s for her sake. That’s the only justification he can cling to. If this is what it takes to ensure her survival, to keep her away from becoming some mindless puppet, then maybe there’s some small sliver of good in it.

Surely, there must be.

The sound of boots against the deck draws his attention, and he straightens instinctively, his hand never leaving the hilt of his weapon. It won’t be long.

Not long at all.

Aramaki’s chest tightens as he looks out over the sea of faces, some hardened and ready, others visibly trembling. He doesn’t want to think about who they are outside of their uniforms. Just some soldiers fighting for what they think is right.

Don’t think, he tells himself. Don’t hesitate. Just do it and get it over with.

His fingers curl tighter around his sword’s handle. Guilt claws at the edges of his mind, but he forces it back down. It’s too late for guilt. Too late for second-guessing.

Anytime now. As soon as the fighting begins, he’ll play his part. The bloodshed will come fast, brutal, and unforgiving.

He closes his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. It’ll be over before you know it, he thinks.

But the truth is, it won’t be. Not for him. Not for any of them.

He tilts his head back, eyes fixed on the vast sky above. The sun blazes down, but the light feels cold against the weight in his chest. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but not the doubts behind them. The cigarette in his mouth tastes bitter now, acrid and stale, like the thoughts circling in his mind. He pulls it out and stares at the glowing ember at the tip, watching it smolder before flicking it into the sea.

“All this… for you, (Y/N),” he mutters, his voice barely louder than the waves crashing against the hull. He exhales sharply, as though trying to expel the doubt. “Just you alone, Vice Admiral. Perhaps me and Sakazuki-san have both lost our minds.”

 

---

 

“Is this all of them?” you ask, your voice cutting through the suffocating silence of the basement. Rows upon rows of cages stretch before you, each one a grotesque display of pure torture.

Moretti doesn’t answer. You take a step closer, eyes scanning the pathetic figures slumped behind the bars. The dim lantern light flickers weakly, casting shadows that dance across their hollowed faces. These children are far worse off than the ones upstairs. Their cheeks are sunken, eyes glassy and lifeless. Most of them don’t even flinch as you approach, their bodies too frail or their spirits too broken.

You crouch near one of the cages, gripping a rusty bar. The metal groans faintly under your fingers, brittle enough that you could snap it if you tried. The smell hits you harder the closer you get—an unholy mix of mold, sweat, and something metallic, like dried blood. You wrinkle your nose, raising a hand to pinch it shut. “God, did you even bother to clean this place up? You’re really leaving them like this?” you whisper.

Still, Moretti doesn’t respond. His silence grates at you, stoking the fire already simmering in your chest.

The children behind these cages are weak, weaker than the ones above. In fact, most of them are either sitting or laying down on the dirty floor. They don't seem too bothered by the smell, but you imagine they've grown used to it. Or maybe they don't even notice the smell anymore.

You glance back at the cages, the children barely reacting to your presence. Some whisper incoherently, their words a jumbled mess you can’t decipher. Others remain silent, staring at nothing, their minds long since broken. You grip the bar tighter, the metal digging into your skin.

“Moretti, you—” you start, spinning around to face him, but the words die in your throat.

Something whistles through the air, sharp and fast, cutting through the silence like a blade through flesh. Your instincts scream at you to move. It's small. It's sharp. And it'll definitely go through these bars.

“Ugh…”

Your hand shoots up reflexively, catching the object before it can pierce through the bars—or through you. The force of it stings, and you feel the cold bite of steel slicing into your palm. Blood trickles down your wrist, warm and sticky, pooling on the floor beneath you.

You glance down. A knife. Its blade glints menacingly in the dim light, stopping mere inches from embedding itself in your chest.

Moretti clicks his tongue, his expression shifting. His hand, still outstretched from the throw, retreats lazily into his pocket. The dim light frames his face, sharpening the edges of his face. His dark brown eyes gleam hazel under the lantern glow.

“Amazing instincts,” he remarks, his tone almost admiring as he slicks a stray lock of hair back into place. “But I’m done pretending. Let’s drop the charade, shall we?”

You let the knife clatter to the floor, shaking the pain from your bloodied hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snap.

He exhales a long, theatrical sigh, shaking his head as if disappointed. “Come now, Vice Admiral (Y/N),” he says, your title dripping from his lips like poison. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? Kilgore never sends anyone without informing me first. You walked in here like a wolf trying to play sheep, but the act was doomed from the start.”

You scoff, your lips curling into a sneer. Enough. No more games.

Water swirls around your injured hand, cleansing the wound before you rip a strip from your shirt and tie it tightly around your palm. The makeshift bandage stains red almost immediately, but you barely notice the pain, your focus locked on Moretti.

“Fine,” you say, straightening to your full height. “I’ve had enough of you, anyway.” You step forward. “I’ve seen enough. And I’m taking you with me.”

Moretti’s smirk widens, though his eyes remain cold. “You can certainly try,” he says smoothly, his hand slipping out of his pocket. The seastone ring shines under the light. “But since you’re no guest of mine, there’s no longer any need for me to treat you like one...”

Notes:

1. I have nothing interesting to say but I just had a thought about if MC could lift up Sakazuki. Like probably full on bridal style. Since she's physically stronger than others... What the hell, sure. She can lift him. Not that he'll allow her, I think...

2. Two years since I started writing this fic and we have finally reached chapter 30 and 100k+ words! Hooray! Hooray to the slowest and laziest writer of all time 🍾

3. Okay one last edit for this note. Hopefully... HOPEFULLY... I will have completed the first few chapters for another Sakazuki/reader fic so I can release it along with chapter 31. It's also multichapter and it's still ongoing. I'm so excited ,,,!!!!!!!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Make Me Bad