West Blue, Soja Island
The dice clattered across the worn wooden table, coming to rest with a soft thud that seemed to echo in the sudden silence of the gambling den. Around him, Issho could sense the collective intake of breath from the other players, their heartbeats quickening with anticipation and greed. He didn't need to see the numbers to know what they showed, his observation Haki had already told him everything he needed to know about this rigged game.
"Seven and four," he said quietly, his scarred face remaining impassive. "Eleven total."
The dealer's nervous gulp was audible even over the ambient noise of the establishment. "That's... that's correct, sir. House wins again."
Issho nodded slowly, his massive frame shifting slightly in the too-small chair. Around him, the other gamblers muttered their disappointment and shuffled away from the table, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his steadily mounting debt. It had been three days since the news from Marineford had reached this remote island, three days since the world had learned that Whitebeard was dead, Fire Fist Ace executed, and the Marines had achieved what many thought impossible, total victory.
What kind of world are we living in now? he wondered, absently fingering the hilt of his shikomizue. The walking stick sword had been his constant companion for years, a tool of justice in a world that seemed increasingly bereft of it.
The news reports had been fragmentary at first, contradictory even. Some claimed Whitebeard had brought down Marineford itself before dying. Others insisted the Fleet Admiral had single-handedly crushed the strongest man in the world. But as more details emerged, a clearer picture began to form—one that troubled Issho deeply.
The war hadn't just been a victory for the Marines. It had been a systematic dismantling of everything the old world order represented. Whitebeard, Ace, even the upstart Blackbeard who had caused so much chaos, all gone in a single day. And at the center of it all, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, described in increasingly reverent terms by Marine spokesmen as something approaching divine.
Divine justice, Issho mused, rolling the concept around in his mind like he might examine a particularly complex wine. The very phrase seemed almost contradictory to him. Justice, in his experience, was profoundly human, messy, imperfect, requiring constant vigilance and self-reflection. But divine? That suggested something absolute, unchanging, beyond question.
"Excuse me, sir?"
Issho's head turned slightly toward the new voice. His observation Haki painted a picture of two individuals approaching his table, both wearing crisp uniforms that carried the distinctive aura of authority he'd learned to recognize in Marine officers. Their heartbeats were steady, professional, but he could sense an undercurrent of nervousness.
"Yes?" he replied, his voice carrying its usual measured cadence.
"My name is Commander Rosa Woodard, World Conscription Division," the first figure said, extending what Issho assumed was an offered hand. When he made no move to take it, she smoothly withdrew it. "This is my colleague, Lieutenant Commander Daigo Sens. We're wondering if we might have a word with you."
Issho's scarred brow furrowed slightly. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don't believe we've been introduced."
"Actually, sir, we know quite a lot about you," Commander Rosa said, her tone respectful but confident. "Issho, swordsman and former Military Chief of the Aoi Kingdom, current... well, let's say current resident of various gambling establishments across the Grand Line."
A soft chuckle escaped Issho's lips. "My reputation precedes me, it seems. Though I'm curious how Marine officers came to be seeking out a washed-up gambler in a place like this."
"Washed-up?" Lieutenant Commander Sens spoke for the first time, and Issho could hear the skepticism in his voice. "Sir, with respect, we've seen the reports. The incident on Sabaody three months ago when you single-handedly stopped a slave auction. The business on Jaya where you prevented a pirate crew from razing an entire town. You're many things, Mr. Issho, but washed-up isn't one of them."
Issho was quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against his cane. These Marines had done their homework, that much was clear. But more importantly, they were here for a reason.
"The gambling house owner sold my debt to you, didn't he?" he asked finally.
"In a manner of speaking," Commander Rosa confirmed. "Though 'purchased' might be more accurate. Along with the gambling house itself, actually. Although that was part of the World Government."
"And in exchange for clearing my debt, you want...?"
"A conversation," she said simply. "About the future. About justice. About what kind of world we're building in the wake of Marineford."
Issho stood slowly, his considerable height making both Marines take an unconscious step back. "Very well. But I warn you, I'm not easily swayed by recruitment speeches."
"We weren't planning on giving you one," Lieutenant Commander Seto said with what sounded like genuine humor. "To be honest, sir, we were told that if you agreed to come with us, we should probably just shut up and escort you to someone who actually knows what they're talking about."
Despite himself, Issho found the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Refreshing honesty. Very well, lead on."
The Marine vessel that awaited them at the port was larger than Issho had expected, clearly built for long-distance travel rather than local patrols. As they boarded, he could sense the barely contained excitement of the crew, young Marines who radiated the kind of fervent enthusiasm he'd only seen in true believers.
"I heard he is some bigshot swordsman, they're not even testing him," he heard one whisper to another as they passed.
"That's ridiculous. He's blind you idiot."
"Yeah, well, apparently he is very strong."
Issho couldn't help but smile at their chatter. Young people had always been the same, eager, gossipy, and possessed of boundless imagination when it came to the capabilities of their superiors.
As the ship set course for Marineford, Commander Rosa joined him at the bow, where he stood listening to the rhythm of the waves against the hull.
"May I ask what changed your mind?" she inquired. "About coming with us, I mean. From what we'd heard, you were... let's say skeptical of organized authority."
Issho was quiet for a moment, his scarred face turned toward the sun he could no longer see. "The war," he said finally. "I've been thinking about the war."
"What about it?"
"In all my years, I've seen justice take many forms. Personal justice, sought by individuals for personal reasons. Societal justice, imposed by communities to maintain order. Divine justice..." He paused, seeming to taste the words. "That's something new. Something I'm not sure I understand."
"And you want to understand it?"
"I want to see what kind of man claims to embody it," Issho said simply. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku has made quite an impression on the world. I'm curious to discover whether the reality matches the reputation."
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden commotion from below decks. Shouts erupted from the crew, followed by the distinctive sound of the ship's alarm bells.
"Sea King!" someone yelled. "Massive Sea King off the starboard bow!"
Issho's observation Haki immediately expanded, painting a picture of the threat in his mind. The creature was indeed massive, with the distinctive serpentine form of a deep-ocean predator. Its hostile intent was unmistakable.
"All hands to battle stations!" Commander Rosa shouted, her professional training taking over. "Prepare the main cannons!"
But before the Marines could respond, Issho was already moving. He stepped forward to the ship's rail, his hand moving to the hilt of his cane with practiced ease.
"That won't be necessary," he said calmly.
The blade emerged from its wooden sheath with barely a whisper of steel, and Issho's presence suddenly seemed to expand, filling the air around the ship with an almost palpable weight. Above them, something shifted in the very fabric of the sky.
The Sea King, perhaps sensing the change in the atmosphere, paused in its approach. Its massive head broke the surface, water cascading from its scales as it regarded the small vessel with predatory intelligence.
Issho raised his sword, the blade gleaming in the afternoon sun, and brought it down in a single, fluid motion.
The meteorite that fell from the clear blue sky was not particularly large by cosmic standards, perhaps ten meters in diameter, but it struck the Sea King with the force of divine judgment. The creature's roar was cut short as it disappeared beneath the waves, and the resulting splash sent a wall of water washing over the Marine vessel.
As the crew scrambled to secure loose equipment and clear the deck of seawater, Issho calmly sheathed his sword and returned to his position at the bow.
"Well," Commander Rosa said after a moment, water dripping from her hair, "that was... efficient."
"The creature was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," Issho replied mildly. "Justice doesn't always require extensive deliberation."
Lieutenant Commander Sens, who had been clinging to the mast during the impromptu shower, slowly made his way over to them. "Sir," he said, his voice carrying a note of new respect, "I think we're beginning to understand why Headquarters was so interested in meeting you."
The rest of the journey to Marineford passed without incident, though Issho noticed the crew's demeanor toward him had shifted dramatically. Where before there had been curious whispers, now there was respectful silence. Where before there had been casual glances, now there were careful observations from a safe distance.
It was a familiar pattern, one he'd experienced many times over the years. Power, especially overwhelming power, tended to isolate its possessor. It was one of the reasons he'd taken to gambling, where he could simply be another player at the table.
But as Marineford began to appear on the horizon, Issho found his thoughts turning away from isolation and toward curiosity. The fortress was massive, its white walls rising from the sea like something out of legend. But more than its physical presence, it was the aura of the place that captured his attention.
His observation Haki, always active to compensate for his blindness, began picking up something unusual as they drew closer. The very air around Marineford seemed to hum with an energy he'd never encountered before, something that felt almost... sacred.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Commander Hayakawa said, noticing his increased attention.
"The reconstruction happened remarkably quickly," Issho observed. "The reports said the fortress was heavily damaged during the war."
"It was," she confirmed. "But the Fleet Admiral's vision for the new Marines required a new Marineford. Something that would stand as a symbol of justice for generations to come."
As their ship approached the harbor, Issho could sense the massive scale of the operation taking place. Thousands of people moved through the fortress with purpose and precision, new recruits undergoing training, veteran Marines adapting to expanded roles, construction crews putting finishing touches on renovated facilities.
But underneath it all, that strange energy continued to pulse like a heartbeat. It seemed to emanate from somewhere deep within the fortress, a source of power that colored everything around it.
As they made their way through Marineford's corridors, that mysterious aura grew stronger. Marines they passed seemed different somehow, more focused, more unified in purpose than any military organization Issho had ever encountered. Their individual auras blended together into something approaching harmony, as if they were all tuned to the same frequency.
"The Fleet Admiral will see you now," Commander Rosa announced as they paused before an ornate door. "Mr. Issho, it's been an honor escorting you here."
"The honor has been mine," Issho replied with a slight bow. "Thank you for your courtesy."
As the door opened, the source of Marineford's unique aura became immediately apparent. Sitting behind an impressive desk, reviewing what appeared to be reports from around the world, was Fleet Admiral Sengoku. But this was not the Sengoku that Issho had heard described in various accounts over the years.
The man before him radiated power in a way that was almost tangible. His presence filled the room like light, and Issho's observation Haki painted a picture of someone who had transcended ordinary limitations. This was justice made manifest, not just a concept or an ideal, but a living, breathing reality.
"Mr. Issho," Sengoku said, looking up from his papers. His voice carried the same weight as his presence, each word seeming to resonate with absolute certainty. "Please, have a seat. I've been looking forward to this conversation."
Issho moved carefully to the indicated chair, his usual confident movements suddenly feeling inadequate in the presence of such overwhelming authority. As he settled into his seat, he found himself genuinely awed for the first time in years.
"Fleet Admiral," he said, inclining his head respectfully. "I must admit, your reputation doesn't do you justice. There's something... extraordinary about you."
Sengoku smiled, and even that simple expression seemed to carry weight. "Thank you. I've changed considerably since Marineford, as I'm sure you can sense. The war was... transformative, in ways I'm still coming to understand."
"And you believe this transformation has given you the authority to reshape the world?"
"I believe it has given me the responsibility to do so," Sengoku corrected gently. "Power without purpose is mere tyranny. But power guided by justice..." He paused, his eyes seeming to look directly into Issho's soul despite the blind swordsman's scarred features. "That has the potential to create something truly lasting."
Issho sat in contemplative silence for a moment, processing not just Sengoku's words but the overwhelming presence that gave them weight. Whatever had happened to the Fleet Admiral during the war, it had fundamentally altered his very nature.
"You want me to join your vision," Issho said finally. It wasn't a question.
"I want you to help me build a world where justice isn't dependent on the whims of individual conscience," Sengoku replied. "A world where protection doesn't require choosing between equally flawed options. A world where the strong protect the weak not out of personal nobility, but because it's the fundamental order of things."
For the first time in years, Issho found himself truly considering the possibility of serving under another's command. Not because he was compelled to, but because he was genuinely impressed by what he sensed in the man before him.
"Tell me more about this new world," he said quietly. "I find myself... intrigued."