Chapter Text
sh*t. sh*t. sh*t. sh*t.
Your mind spiraled as you got ready for the day, thinking through the implications of losing the key. Digging around frantically, you found a spare uniform appropriate for your rank in the trunk by the bed. You hadn’t thought to check before Garp said something, but it seemed this room had been thoughtfully prepared for you, and you appreciated the opportunity to shed your burnt, ripped, slept-in clothes and tug on a proper uniform. You’d at least look the part of a proper Marine, even if you were the reason Ace had escaped.
On the one hand, they could think I gave it to him and I’m a traitor, but maybe I could argue if we were cooperating, I would’ve kept the key to avoid suspicion? On the other, they could reason that someone stole it from me, but that’s messy and too close to the truth anyways.
Ultimately you needed two things: a fake key for the cuffs, and a plausible way that he escaped on his own.
Your thoughts raced as you cast about for possible keys to use. You didn’t have any on you. The Marine base probably had an armory with more cuffs, and you could steal a key there.
But just in case, I need one NOW.
At last, your gaze landed on the standard-issue trunk, still thrown open, with a few extra uniform shirts in it. The key for it was in the lock. You snatched it up, inspecting it thoroughly from every angle. It wasn’t an exact match. If anyone actually looked at it closely, they would see it was a bit too big and shiny, but it could work in a pinch.
Maybe.
You shoved it in your pocket, shaking your head. Now you needed an excuse for how he really escaped. You thought about blaming someone else. Garp was obviously protecting you to some extent, but you weren’t sure how much blame he could take before he started getting suspicious of you as well, and there was always the possibility of him scapegoating you regardless the second he came under fire from the higher-ups.
Unbidden, the image of the rude lieutenant popped into your mind, but you scowled.
I shouldn’t try to frame anyone innocent. No matter how desperate I am.
That left you few other options though, and Garp would be expecting you soon.
As you turned the issue over in your mind, you hastily scrubbed your face with water from the room’s small basin, uncaring as some of it wet the front of your jacket. The bracing cold helped calm you down, as you set to work roughly brushing your hair.
With a sigh, you set down your brush, then got on the floor, craning your head under the bed. You coughed as your movements disturbed the dust, but still, you persisted in groping around in the low darkness, running your hands over the floorboards. After a second you found what you were looking for: a nailhead, sticking up out of the ship's old wood. Pinching it, you used your extraordinary strength to pull it out with relative ease, prying out an additional nail before sitting up and dusting yourself off impatiently. You really couldn’t keep Garp waiting much longer.
You and Aoi had once caught a band of thieves in the East Blue. You still remembered one of the robbers chuckling as you sorted through his confiscated belongings. He hadn’t seemed particularly bothered by being arrested, but that’s just how some criminals were: they tried to charm you to the very end. When you had picked up his heavy, jingling key ring of different lockpicks, he had spoken up.
“Not like it is in the comics, huh? You can’t just use a bobby pin. Me, I use two, sometimes three in one lock. One to fill out the bottom, one to trip the pins.” He’d bragged. You’d thought it was interesting, but you’d never imagined such a random scrap of information would ever become so vital to you.
Thankfully, the nails were pretty long and thin. You bent the end of one, inserting it into the lock of the trunk experimentally to make sure it would fit. Now came the hard part: flattening the other.
You couldn’t afford to flatten it with your club—someone might notice the loud banging and think it was odd—so instead you worked quickly and efficiently, taking out your club and gun, and sandwiching the nail between the hard surfaces of the seatone and the butt of the pistol's handle. Pressing down with incredible force, you flattened the length of the nail, before once again testing it in the trunk’s lock. It slotted in nicely, and you sprung up, satisfied with your handiwork.
At this point you didn’t have much in the way of personal belongings, just the tiny pack you had always carried with you when you were hunting Ace. After a moment’s decision, you decided to take it with you. You had a gut feeling you wouldn’t be returning to this ship. Clutching both nails in your hand tightly, you burst out of your room. The hall was empty, but even then you didn’t break stride as you passed the busted door of the brig, and chucked the two makeshift lockpicks through the melted hole in the thick metal, far into the dim corner of the room. You heard them tinkle as they hit the wall.
With that, you were ready to go. You headed to the deck, opting to sense the powerful presence of Garp with your haki rather than ask anyone. The gangplank was already down, and crewmembers were busy loading cargo to restock for the next voyage. That lieutenant had said the ship had arrived very early that morning—it seemed they’d wasted no time once docked.
Garp was leaned against the railing, watching over the work pensively, waiting. You hoped you hadn’t taken a suspiciously long time. When he saw you coming, he stood and wordlessly beckoned for you to follow him. Descending from the ship, you crossed the busy dock, dodging heavy boxes as Marines hauled them to and from the boat. At last, you fully caught up to the vice-admiral, keeping pace at his shoulder.
From the set of his jaw and his serious expression, it was clear the old man was thinking through something. Then, appearing to dismiss it, his face abruptly lightened and he turned to you. “Hey kid, ever heard of SWORD?”
You frowned. “No sir. You mentioned it yesterday too.”
“Well, it’s a secret special force at HQ,” Garp began thoughtfully, and your ears perked up. You wondered if he was scouting you for some elite team. Still, if you survived today you’d have to turn him down. The more prestigious the position, the more corrupt the Marines seemed to get. Yesterday had given you clarity: you just wanted to sail with Aoi and your crew, helping people.
“It’s for Marines who have formally resigned.”
Resigned?
You cut in hastily. “Sir, I’m not going to resign!” You hoped he wasn’t alluding to you being dishonorably discharged or put in front of a military court, either.
In response, Garp just raised an curved eyebrow at you. You felt caught out.
“Don’t talk over me, brat. Anyways, it means you get to be a Marine, but you can do whatever you want. You don’t follow orders, you choose your missions.”
You tilted your head, it sounded too good to be true.
“So, what’s the catch?”
Garp chuckled. “We don’t have to help you or take responsibility for your actions. We can disavow you at any moment, without warning, and we might even assign you a criminal bounty and try to kill you.”
That wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. “But I’m still a Marine?”
Garp nodded, smiling at your obvious interest. “Yup. You can stay on our bases and join our missions. We’ve even had SWORD members rejoin.”
“How the hell haven’t I heard of this earlier?” You marveled, more talking to yourself than anything.
Garp gave another hearty laugh at that. “We don’t tell just anybody!” He scoffed. “Imagine how many idiots we’d have going rogue. No, this’s an offer we give to the talented young ones we’re worried about losing.” He shot you a sly, sidelong glance. “Think about it.”
You nodded, your eyes wide, before remembering proper etiquette. “Yes sir.”
You had never heard of anything like SWORD in your life. The whole point of the Marines was that there was a set of universal rules everybody followed. That was equal. That was fair. Sure, sometimes they didn’t always perfectly fit the situation, but you didn’t break or bend the rules, otherwise everybody would, and things would descend into chaos. People had died for these rules. Garp himself had told you that.
When you were training killers, discipline was important, otherwise you were no better than pirates. Doing whatever you felt like, whatever felt “right” to you was a dangerous game. At the academy, you had heard dark stories of Marines committing horrific crimes in the name of their personal brand of justice: ethnic cleansings, murdering their fellow Marines, and "mercy" killings. You upheld justice because that was the lawful definition of justice every civilian knew and consented to. You followed the orders of HQ because they had top secret information, and saw the big picture. You didn’t try to make your own calls. How could you, a tiny cog in the machine, really judge what was just?
You thought about your own idea of what was right.
Ace could be a key part of some terrible scheme Whitebeard was plotting that would kill thousands. He could be a spy that had completely deceived you. He could be a valuable bargaining chip for some future HQ plan that would save countless lives. That meant it wasn’t your place to question orders. Your flimsy, personal idea of justice was at the mercy of the larger forces of history.
And yet, none of that ever really crossed your mind when he was in front of you.
The idea that maybe that was ok, maybe there was a world where you could go rogue and choose your missions and still be a Marine, that seemed too perfect.
You wanted to call Aoi straightaway, even if that meant bothering her on her hospital bed. You needed to tell her about the new possibility.
Don’t get carried away.
Your heart was racing, you were already pumped through with adrenaline from the tense situation. If it sounded too good to be true, it probably was. Things were never this easy for you. There was a trap in this somewhere. Maybe Garp was trying to lure you into a false sense of security. Maybe there were some Marine HQ politics at play here that you didn’t understand. Maybe the vice-admiral had some hidden agenda regarding Ace.
You resolved not to make any decisions or commitments until you had talked things over with Aoi, at the very least.
Then, imposing doors were springing up in front of you, and you realized you had been so engrossed in your thoughts that you had followed Garp into the Marine base blindly. He came to a leisurely stop ahead of you, before single-handedly throwing open those familiar double doors.
Together, you entered the office of the Commodore. Of course this happened to be the base you came back to, out of all of them in the world. It had been so familiar, you hadn’t even registered it. It was strange: every time you came back here, you felt so wildly different. You wondered why Garp had come here. HQ had probably wanted to transfer Ace to a more secure ship, certainly, but you couldn’t help but suspect the Commodore had also advocated to be involved, given how engaged he’d been in your mission. Or maybe it truly was just the closest base.
Inside, two men were waiting comfortably in the sitting area, smoking and having a quiet conversation. That came to a halt as you and Garp entered, and in unison, their heads swiveled to appraise you. Through the haze of smoke, you made out the Commodore and a stranger, a large man in a red uniform suit. He dwarfed the couch, it looked like child's furniture beneath him; only his stern mouth was visible, a cigar propped between his lips, the rest of his face shadowed by a hat.
Your heart leapt into your throat.
It was Admiral Akainu.
One of the three admirals.
One of the most powerful men in the world.
He was here for Ace.
Your stomach dropped as you recognized him. Over the years, you had heard many things about the admiral, but one story stuck with you in particular. There was a rebellion a few years back in some small-time kingdom in the North Blue, and the Marines were sent to put it down, with Akainu leading them. The problem was, the rebels were using child soldiers. Many of the Marines refused to fight, because they couldn’t bring themselves to fire on the kids.
Akainu killed every insubordinate soldier, calling it mutiny.
You still remember Aoi telling you about him in a hushed tone, long after lights out in the barracks, so that your superior officers couldn’t hear her. It was the type of information that was scrubbed from newspapers. You wouldn’t find the rebellion in any textbook. It had circulated in the ranks years ago, when Akainu first became Admiral, alongside another rumor of how exactly he had got the position. Apparently it had to do with another massacre: Ohara.
You were just a teenager at the time, and they had felt like ghost stories back then. That side of the Marines had seemed far away and too important for someone like you. You had dismissed them as lies to undermine morale.
However, as you got older, and saw more of the dark side of justice, doubt began to grow in your mind. Now, face-to-face with Admiral Akainu, you were afraid to find you believed what Aoi had told you all those years ago.
There was no kindness or understanding in those hollow, flinty eyes. This man wouldn’t hesitate to execute you if you were the least bit suspicious.
You felt like you might be sick, and with shame, you realized you were shaking. As they turned to you, you felt dirty and disheveled under their combined, calculating gaze. Nevertheless, you had to stay in control; you snapped a quick salute before falling into parade rest, which helped disguise your shaking hands.
Just get through this meeting. You told yourself. It’s best if he doesn’t notice you at all, but if he does, don’t give him any reason to question your loyalty.
Garp greeted the two of them more familiarly, with a laugh and casual wave. You noticed rice crackers had materialized from somewhere, and he began snacking on them as he walked over and sprawled out on a sofa. Trailing behind, you came and stood primly next to him, meditating the way they trained you to calm your nerves before battle when you were a mere private.
Somehow, it helped that Garp was next to you, chewing with his mouth open. The sound clearly annoyed the Commodore.
“You lost him.”
The Commodore's words cut through the air, ice cold and dripping with disappointment. You had heard something similar once from him, what felt like ages ago. It had seemed like the end of the world back then. But this time it wasn’t directed at you, it was leveled at Garp. Akainu was silent, taking a long pull of his cigar. The smoke was cloying and noxious; you felt nauseous.
The vice-admiral was unfazed. He shrugged, barking out a short laugh. “Nothing we can do but try to catch him now. He’s somewhere around here.”
“I came here to transfer him to Impel Down. I don’t like wasted time, Garp.” This time, Akainu spoke, and even Garp had to listen. His tone was tightly controlled, close to anger. The admiral was famous for his short temper, but it was another thing to witness it in person.
They stared each other down, and you could feel the subtle ripples of power in the room, even though they were actively holding it back. The sensation made your hair stand up on end.
Akainu’s eyes were dark under the brim of the hat, sizing up the vice-admiral with a habitual outdoor squint gained from a life spent on deck, under the sun. Garp shrugged. You and the Commodore might as well have been furniture.
You had no idea how the old man could weather the pressure so easily, but you sent a silent prayer of gratitude his way for drawing all of Akainu’s ire.
Surely he wouldn’t kill Garp?
Would he?
“No matter. I’ve sent some people to look into it.” Akainu finally continued. “To see what went wrong.”
You felt your stomach turn again.
What if they connect the evidence back to me? These people are powerful, nothing can escape them.
You steeled yourself. Even taking a calming breath would betray fear, so you forced your heartbeat to slow in silence. You couldn’t afford to show any nerves, that would be suspicious.
Garp raised a bushy eyebrow. “We already did an investigation, couldn’t find anything. I sent my men to brief you on it.” Akainu inclined his head in acknowledgement but remained silent. The old vice-admiral made a careless noise in the back of his throat, sitting back. “Well, free to look as much as you want I suppose.” He took a crisp bite of a rice cracker.
As if sensing your guilt, Akainu’s attention suddenly turned to you. It was smooth, unhurried. An apex predator taking his time to think. All he did shift his eyes to you, but you could feel the intensity of his focus like a spotlight. “The main issue is how he got out of those cuffs. Captain, you captured him?”
You were thankful that you were still in parade rest, the position braced you. “Yes si–” You began, but just then, the familiar drone of a den den mushi sounded. It was on the coffee table in front of you, and Akainu reached forward casually to answer, as if he had been expecting it.
“What’ve you got?”
The silence stretched out as you heard a muffled voice on the other end. It must’ve been the investigators Akainu sent.
You forced yourself to remain calm and show no fear.
They didn’t find evidence. I will live. You repeated to yourself, like a mantra.
“I see.” Akainu said. “Good work.” More tinny voices spilled from the den den mushi, too quiet to decipher. “No, finish it properly. Don’t be sloppy.” With that he hung up, taking a luxuriant pull of his cigar, and turning to Garp.
“My men found something you overlooked.” He said, tapping his cigar on a convenient ash tray.
“Well, what is it?” Garp sat forward a bit, intrigued. Distantly, you wondered if you were about to die.
“Lock picks. Fashioned from the nails holding your ship together.”
Garp's laugh seemed jarring in the room which had been largely dominated by tense silence since his arrival. Still, it was easy and unforced. “There you have then.” He chuckled, waving his hand. “That’s how he got out.”
Akainu frowned, looking irritable. “Your brig isn’t up to standard. If he could do it, other prisoners—”
“Look.” Garp interrupted. “I have a plain old captain’s ship. Same as she’s got.” He hooked a thumb at you. “Not my fault HQ doesn’t wanna pay to give anyone seastone brigs except fancy prison-transfer ships.”
“You should have a ship appropriate for your standing.” Akainu insisted. There was still tension in the room between the admiral and vice-admiral, but ever since you heard the news you were ready to cry with relief. You only cared that suspicion was off of you for the time being. Akainu looked back at you. “As I was asking earlier, if he broke out of his chains on his own, do you have the key? Or did you give it to someone else?” For a split second you glanced to Garp, wondering if he might speak up to save you, but he was looking at you with blank expectation.
You had mentally prepared for this moment, and so you were proud that not even your heartbeat sped up as you held up the key, flashing it casually, your hand obscuring a lot of it. “Yes sir, it hasn’t left my pocket since I locked him up.”
Akainu squinted for a moment, but Garp was cutting in loudly, chuckling. “You’re always so suspicious for nothing. See! She has it. And if you don’t like my ship go bitch to Sengoku about it.”
Akainu’s expression was murder. “Keep talking like that, Garp, and I will. We’re not done here. Don’t forget that I know—” His voice was rising steadily, and as it echoed in the cavernous office he paused, realizing how heated he’d gotten. It was clear he was about to start a conversation not meant for your ears.
“Commodore, can you organize a search party of the base to look for Ace.” Garp ordered pleasantly, still watching Akainu.
“Yes sir.” The man saluted, exiting his own office. You stood frozen, waiting to be dismissed.
Garp gave you a reassuring smile. “You’re a suspect, unfortunately.” He said to you lightly. “So why don’t you go wait down the hall?” Saluting, you made a quick escape, going to sit in the antechamber where you used to nervously await meetings with the Commodore.
It was just down a short corridor, a neat room decorated much like the office, with a balcony overlooking the base, and several uncomfortable leather chairs. By the door was a basket offering a waxy-looking assortment of fruit, but you were still too anxious to eat.
In retrospect, it was surreal to think that meeting him used to give you nerves, considering you had just gotten away with a crime under the noses of a vice-admiral and admiral in that very room. Come to think of it, the Commodore had barely said three words. Beside the other two powerful men, he had quickly faded into the background.
You had always respected him, especially because you thought he was powerful but chose to hold a more humble station in order to stay grounded, the same way vice-admiral Garp did, but now that you had met them both and were getting more powerful yourself, you wondered if the Commodore was even that strong.
Having finally met a few big players—Ace, Phoenix Marco, Garp, and now Akainu—you felt like you were at last getting better sense of the scale of the world. You wondered where you fell on that scale.
You examined your palms thoughtfully, the calluses on them from years of training, opening and closing your fists experimentally.
Yesterday, you had been able to see into the future, which let you beat Ace. You weren’t sure exactly what happened, but it had felt like you were doing something with your haki—observation haki to the extreme, maybe—which allowed you to predict Ace’s moves. You had been too overwhelmed to think about it until now, but you were getting excited about the prospect of training it. You wondered how it would work in tandem with Aoi’s skills too. She had been able to cut flame yesterday, which meant she’d obviously improved by leaps and bounds as well.
Briefly, you activated your haki, trying to listen on Garp and Akainu’s conversation. Even from there, you could sense their powerful presences. However, it was to no avail.
They must’ve done something to keep from being spied on. You reasoned.
That train of thought brought you back to SWORD, and Garp’s proposal. It was sounding more and more attractive the more you considered it. More than anything, you wanted to be free of this miserable job of hunting Ace down.
Garp hadn’t seemed like he had liked the mission much either. Akainu obviously supported it, as did the Commodore—but what did the Commodore know that Garp didn’t? In the chain of command, he was closer to a small fry like you.
Akainu was one of the big three admirals that formed the heart of the Marines. Knowing that, seeing the coldness in his eyes, your idea of HQ was beginning to change.
If justice was logical and consistent, why were people at the highest levels like Garp and Akainu disagreeing? Why did Garp seem so resigned? Why did he want you to join SWORD? How far could Upheld Justice take you?
In the crows nest, Garp had been right, but he had also been very, very wrong.
As you sat in the waiting room alone, the adrenaline sustaining you finally began to drain away, leaving you slumped in your chair. In its place, a feeling of exhaustion began to overtake you. Or maybe it was…relief?
It was the relief of finally being able to accept a feeling you had been rejecting for so long.
It was okay to think that some things the Marines did were wrong—you had known that—but that had only applied to corrupt Marines: scheming politicians at HQ, greedy provincial officers, fanatics misinterpreting the Marine Code.
But maybe you didn’t have to follow orders even from good men trying to do the right thing either. Maybe it was okay to listen to yourself. Maybe it wasn’t selfish, or irresponsible, or the easy way out.
Sitting in a stuffy leather chair, watching the sun get higher in the sky outside, you realized that perhaps for a long time you had felt like you were bracing for the day when you’d be asked to do something heinous in the name of the World Government. It had probably started hearing those grim rumors about Akainu, and similar stories. You weren’t naïve, you knew a little bit about the Celestial Dragons, and you also knew of genuinely difficult situations where leaders were forced to make impossible decisions that kept them up at night.
But now that you thought about it, you had already reached that point with your mission hunting Firefist.
You didn’t want to kill Ace.
You wanted him to keep living, even though that meant the Whitebeard pirates had their Second Division commander.
Hell, you weren’t even sure the Whitebeard pirates were your enemies.
It was all so simple, but you hadn’t let yourself think these thoughts because you figured you wouldn’t be able to stay in the Marines any longer in good conscience. And you did want to be a Marine. You didn’t want the last few years of your life to go to waste. You didn’t want to lose your friends, your family. You didn’t want to lose your ship. You didn’t want to stop saving lives, to give up the trust people immediately placed in you as a Marine. You didn’t even want to give up your damn uniform. You wanted it all.
And maybe, for once, you could have it all.
Ace, and SWORD, and life. Maybe even happiness.
Your chest was tight, you felt as if a massive weight had lifted from your shoulders. You tried to remind yourself that it wasn’t over yet—you were still in danger—but it was futile. You itched to talk to Aoi and Garp.
Just then, your musings were interrupted as you sensed a familiar presence walking down the hall, coming towards you.
No…it couldn’t be.
In strolled Firefist Ace, wearing a Marine uniform, hat pulled low over his eyes.
No, no, no. Things had been looking up for a split second but you were right back to square one. You wanted to scream. He can’t be here, they’ll notice him!
His tie was knotted messily, and his jacket was belted wrong. Underneath one cuff you could see the bulge of a log pose, and upon closer inspection you were pretty sure his dagger was belted to his leg underneath his pants, meaning he had gotten at least some of his belongings back. Immediately, the two of you made eye contact, and he froze.
You sprang up, rushing towards him, and he fell into a fighting stance.
“Stop that!” You hissed, hustling across the room towards him. He faltered, uncertain, and you took the opportunity to reach up and begin fixing his tie. He would never blend in with a uniform this sloppy. At your gentle touch, he went stiff, peering down at you, his mouth twisting. “Relax.” You ordered in an urgent whisper. “Garp and Admiral Akainu are in the next room. Don’t let them sense any bloodlust.”
Ace’s eyes widened at that, and he opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “What are you doing here anyways?”
“I need to get to a high point on the base so Marco can pick me up again.” He said quietly, a small, wry smile tugging on his lips as you straightened his tie and moved on to fixing his belt.
“Marco knows you’re here?”
“Not yet, I need to nick a den den mushi too. But he should be able to get here fast once I call him—” He wheezed a bit as you cinched the belt tightly, tucking it neatly into the proper belt loop.
You sighed, thinking fast.
“You—” Your heads turned in unison as muffled shouting emanated from the wall closest to the office. You both stood stock still, silent, listening for danger. It seemed that Garp and Akainu were fighting amongst themselves, which meant they’d be distracted, but also meant they could be storming out here any minute.
The prospect made your blood run cold.
You had to work quickly.
Making a snap decision, you reached into your pocket, fishing out your tiny den den mushi. “Take it. It’s small, so the range is bad, but it should go further once you get on the roof. Don’t use any other snail, they’re probably tapping all the bases’ communication, expecting you to do what you were about to do.” You pointed at him, accusatory. “Don’t be co*cky. Don’t let them catch you. Admiral Akainu is one of the big three. He’ll kill you.” As you spoke you began propelling him hurriedly toward the balcony with a hand on the small of his back. “Climb out from here.”
Ace looked at you quizzically, pausing.
“Go!” You were impatient. The shouting coming from the office had stopped, and if they came out, you would be caught red-handed.
He opened his mouth—
Just then, the sound of voices burst into the hall. They were still arguing animatedly in low, growling tones but there was no time to take in what they were saying.
You had a few seconds before they saw you and you were certainly already on their radar. They would sense Ace leaping out of the window.
He made a start for the balcony, but you caught his arm in an iron grip.
Wordlessly his eyes widened in terror, confusion and betrayal flashed across his face in a split second. Your fingers dug into his bicep as you looked into his eyes, willing him to understand.
“Leave down that hall normally. I’ll stall.” You said under your breath, guiding him to the exit.
Suddenly his fingertips brushed yours, and you felt him press something into your palm, moving past you to continue down the hall with a confident, casual stride. Following standard procedure, you saluted his back, clicking your heels.
Garp and Akainu entered the room just as you dropped the salute, letting your arm casually fall against your leg to covertly slip whatever he’d given you into your pocket.
“What was that, Captain?” Akainu narrowed his eyes at Ace’s retreating form. Garp was cold, silent, standing a few feet away. The hostility in the air between the two men was palpable, and you could only pray that it had distracted them enough.
I sure hope this isn’t a trick question and he’s not about to kill me. The morbid thought flashed through your mind.
All you could do was try to respond quickly and smoothly. “Sir, it was a message from the search party. They wanted to ask me if I had any insights into how Firefist might leave the island, since I’m familiar with his behavior, sir.” You said search party, rather than a specific name, that way, hopefully, if he started asking around, you’d have plausible deniability.
He frowned slightly, the grizzled, leathery skin of his face wrinkling. “That couldn’t be done via transponder snail?”
“They didn’t know my whereabouts, sir. And if I had to guess, the Commodore probably wants to keep traffic low so he can monitor outgoing signals, sir.”
Akainu nodded. “Yes, Firefist might try to send out a distress call to the Whitebeard pirates.” His gaze seemed to pierce through you. “What did you tell them?”
You had to be very careful. If he asked the Commodore about any of this, you were dead. You needed to say something that would amount to nothing, pretend you had learned information you already knew. “Sir, I predicted that he would try to retrieve his belongings, but they said he had already stolen them from holding. I also said he would try to leave via the Striker, but they said Garp’s ship didn’t take it from the island. That means he’ll have to commandeer a ship or call for backup, sir.” You wanted to divert focus from the possibility of Phoenix Marco taking him by air, and as far as you knew only the Commodore had read your report of the jungle island, where Marco had done that.
The admiral clicked his tongue. “That’s obvious enough. Go report to the Commodore, see if he can use you.” He turned to Garp. “Vice-admiral, you work north-to-south, I’ll work south-to-north. We’ll flush this bastard out.” You saluted, but instead of leaving, the two casually went to the balcony and threw open its doors, leaping off the edge to the ground, several stories below.
You breathed a massive sigh of relief, but your heart still hadn’t gotten the message: it was threatening to pound out of your chest. Not only had Ace gotten away, but if Akainu was telling you to join the search effort, you were above suspicion.
You made your way down to the Commodore at a more leisurely pace, going down several grand flights of stairs, and expanding your awareness to see where the epicenter of action was on the small island. People seemed to be congregating at the docks. When you reached the site, the imposing figure of the Commodore was there, in the center of a busy crowd, doling out orders.
“Sir, the Admiral sent me here to assist you.” You saluted for about the millionth time today, and the man tuned in at the word “admiral”, turning to notice you.
“Very good. Lead search party D. They’re sweeping the sewers and no one wants to head the effort.” With a heavy sigh, you took the proffered den den mushi and maps of the base’s sewer system, leading a small team of privates and ensigns down into the cramped, stinking darkness of the island’s drainage.
Once again, you realized you hadn’t eaten, but the smell killed your appetite pretty fast.
*****
Underground, you couldn’t see or hear or sense much of what was happening on the surface. You could hope that Ace got up to the rooftop, and managed to get away with Marco. If they captured him, he had your transponder snail that came from your ship, so you’d probably die with him. You tried not to think about that. You tried not to second guess any of your hasty actions today. You tried to focus on thoroughly sweeping the miserable sewers.
At last, hours later, your den den mushi came to life. It was the Commodore’s stern voice.
“You can come up now, the search is over.”
You didn’t know what that meant—if Ace was captured again, if they had caught onto you. You didn’t dare hope that he had gotten away clean.
Solemnly, you led your team out of the winding sewers, retracing your steps on the map. You just worried about placing one foot in front of the other.
You had been putting it off for a time when you were alone, but now, (partly to distract yourself, partly because you might never get the chance if you died soon) you fished around in your pocket, looking for the little scrap that Ace had pressed into your hand. You hadn’t been sure what it could be—possibly a note, a petal, a fragment of something.
You pulled it out at last, pinched delicately between your index finger and thumb, and had to keep from gasping in front of the subordinates. The texture and look was plain, but distinctive.
It was a vivre card.
