The decisive battle against the Marine fleet, bolstered by the elites from Headquarters, had begun in the West Blue.
The man imprisoned in the cell had heard the news. He knew how troublesome Marine Headquarters could be. But he also knew that the Black Cats were another military organization, one whose strength far exceeded their bounties and who never neglected research and training in strategy and tactics. The 'Marine Hunter,' Mihawk, the man he had spoken with the most here, was a force who could likely take on the entire Headquarters fleet by himself. On top of that, they had a unit of swordsmen—or more accurately, Haki users—personally trained by Mihawk, as well as a variety of ability users.
It was a battle that could go either way. In fact, the pirate had calculated that the Black Cats, who had meticulously surveyed the local sea currents and geography and thus had a greater home-field advantage than even the local marines, were several steps ahead.
"…No matter how the battle turns out, Marine Headquarters will undoubtedly suffer a blow. In a situation that is guaranteed to become even more chaotic, if the Government starts to feel insecure about its own military strength—"
He was pondering how the Navy would treat him if they were to storm this island when a light metallic clinking—clink, clink—suddenly echoed through the prison.
There were no guards. The Royal Guard and all the other soldiers were either deployed for the battle or assigned to defend the castle town and its fortress. He tensed, wondering if one of them had returned, when a slender, white arm came into view.
Several more identical arms sprouted from the floor and walls, passing the source of the sound—a ring of prison keys—from one to the next like a baton in a relay. Finally, a pair of hands appeared right before him.
The pirate felt a gaze and turned. On the back of a nearby chair, one Mihawk used when writing letters, an eye had bloomed.
"Wait, I'll have the key open in a second."
"Nico Robin…"
A mouth sprouted on the chair next to the eye. The hands that had arrived at his cell door fumbled with the keys, trying to fit one into the lock. Her viewpoint was likely too far away, with no suitable surface to bloom an eye near the keyhole, which was why she was struggling. As the keys rattled, her voice continued.
"The departure preparations are complete. We, the main fleet, are leaving immediately. We've prepared for victory, but you never know what might happen, so you should escape. You can't do anything if you're still a prisoner, right?"
The key finally slid into the lock, turned with a solid clank, and the cell door swung open.
"…Is this your own doing?"
"I got permission from Daz. We don't have the forces to spare for your defense, but we can't say for sure that a separate detachment won't land. We don't think you, who Mihawk himself called strong, would be taken down so easily, but it's better to let you go than to risk this place becoming a battlefield. The other keys on that ring are for your shackles, so you can handle the rest yourself. We've prepared a small boat with water, food, a compass… and other things on the southern coast!"
She must have been in a tremendous hurry. The moment she finished her rapid-fire explanation, all of Nico Robin's sprouted body parts vanished, leaving only the key ring behind. The door was open; nothing stood in his way. The Seastone shackles were designed with some leeway, so he could walk and move his hands even while wearing them.
He picked up the keys and undid the restraints on his wrists, ankles, and neck. Though he had been granted a surprising amount of freedom, a prisoner was still a prisoner. He felt the atrophy in his muscles and flexed his hands to confirm their state. Then, he conjured a small sandstorm in his palm and gave a slight, emotionless nod.
Crocodile. The Sand-Sand Fruit user. A Sandman. His ability allowed him to transform into and freely manipulate sand, and to bring a desiccating thirst to all he touched. If he were to expand this sandstorm, this small prison would be obliterated in an instant.
Crocodile stared at the miniature storm in his hand for a moment, then snorted and dispelled it.
—And then, he himself became a sandstorm and vanished from the cell.
◆ ◆ ◆
To subjugate or capture the pirate 'Black Cat.'
All who knew the strength of the pirate named Kuro scowled at the order. Some even held their heads in their hands. The soldiers who had been stationed at the Holy Land at that time had all fought under Kuro's command.
—"The unit in charge of the eastern sector, please fall back and switch to firearm engagement. You'll likely be seriously injured if you get any closer."
The pirate had issued commands to the marines through a young female marine named Hina, who was acting as his spotter and messenger.
—"Don't be ridiculous, you damn pirate! It's a marine's job to defend this place! Stay out of it!"
The marine who had defied him continued to fight and was caught in the explosion of a booby-trapped zombie soldier. He died.
With the unit's commander dead, the battle descended into chaos. The zombie horde marched straight for Pangea Castle, clashing with the marines, while other soldiers panicked and fled in confusion. The situation, which had only just been stabilized by the pirate's fire-based strategy, was about to collapse once more.
And in that moment, the pirate—
—"It's not over yet. Hina, give me the names of the commissioned officers with you, from highest rank to lowest. I have a general, if hazy, grasp of the individual characteristics of the soldiers deployed here."
There was not a hint of panic in the pirate's voice. Even the commanding officers, who had been shouting to rally their own troops, had been overwhelmed by that voice over the Den Den Mushi.
—"Yes, yes… Alright. It's okay, the situation hasn't deteriorated that badly. We can turn this around immediately."
—"Vice Admiral Stafford, my apologies, but I need you to take the units commanded by those two colonels and head to the eastern front. Many of the soldiers there now were under your command during the joint training exercise six months ago. You should be able to rally them more quickly."
—"Commodore Shett, please lead your unit to the gate in front of Pangea Castle and hold the line. The chaos is so severe that simply laying down continuous fire will be enough to pin the enemy down."
—"Rear Admiral Ritany, have your men carry medical supplies and follow Vice Admiral Stafford's unit. Once the front has stabilized, begin rescuing and recovering the wounded. Do not rush. If the line breaks here, the number of casualties will only increase."
The pirate's orders came one after another. The marines who defied him were swiftly defeated, lucky if they escaped with their lives. Those who followed his instructions dispatched the enemy with surprising ease, suffering almost no casualties. Before they knew it, every marine—even the high-ranking officers who should have been in command—had been swept up by the pirate known as Black Cat.
If he commands us, we can win.
If he commands us, we can survive.
That unspoken understanding had spread through every soldier, and it had been proven correct. Those who trusted him survived and seized victory. Those who didn't, or who defied him, were either routed or killed.
(That's why… that's why I didn't want this… Not just me, but every soldier who survived the Holy Land feels the same…!)
Before his eyes, Admiral Kizaru was swinging a sword of light. Opposing him with only his kicks was the pirate, Kuro. The genius of military strategy, the likes of which he had never seen in the Navy, who had led them to victory in the burning Holy Land while keeping their casualties to a minimum.
"Really…! Why are you a pirate!?" a soldier cried out.
"Go and say that to the lowest scumbags in the world! This is all their fault!" Kuro yelled back mid-fight.
"That's so true it hurts, you know…" Kizaru lamented.
"Deny it! Insult me! Your subordinates are right here, don't lower their morale! They're risking their lives, working their asses off! They don't have a convenient ability like you, they're putting their bodies on the line!"
"What high horse are you speaking from, I wonder?"
"Like I know! I don't have the luxury to think about that right now! I don't even know what I'm saying anymore!"
"…I'm really, so sorry."
"I told you to stop that!"
Their exchange was almost comical, but the battle was far beyond what an ordinary soldier could enter. A moment ago, judging that it wouldn't hit the Admiral, a volley of rifle fire had been unleashed. But the bullets had been deflected by the Black Cat's kicks, and soldiers in what should have been safe positions were shot in the arms and legs, writhing in pain on the deck. A Vice Admiral, seeing an opening when Kizaru created distance, charged with his saber, only to have his jaw shattered by a kick in the next instant.
As a result, no one could interfere. On the deck of the warship, a duel between the 'Black Cat' and 'Kizaru' had begun.
(Why… damn it…)
(Why is this battle even happening…!?)
◆ ◆ ◆
(he's so hard to read! So fast! So annoying!)
With a series of metallic clangs, I desperately bought time, parrying Kizaru's lightsaber with my kicks—no, to be accurate, just barely managing to do so was taking everything I had.
(Idiot! I'm an idiot! Why did I give up the advantage I had in the air, where his movements were limited, and come down here!?)
It had been pure chance. In the air, the attacks from the Glint-Glint Fruit tended to be linear. Kizaru had probably crushed all his opponents that way until now. But thanks to that, his aerial combat had glaring weaknesses compared to Shiki. It was easy to predict his attacks. I had landed a counter on his light-speed kick, using his own velocity against him to inflict damage.
"In fact, Borsalino, why don't you come join us!? We have a great position open that would make perfect use of your personal skills, not just your fruit!"
"Well now, that's a tempting offer, but I'm a corporate slave, you see…"
"I know the feeling more than you can imagine, but if you let yourself be bound by a sense of duty, you'll lose sight of yourself! And by then, it'll be too late! You'll end up with a mountain of incomprehensible responsibilities dumped on you and hang yourself!"
"Ouch, that hits a little too close to home. You almost made this old man cry."
The problem was what happened next. Kizaru had retreated to this warship to regroup, and he had clearly been out of breath. The counter must have landed in a good spot. The moment I saw that, a single thought consumed my mind.
—He's wide open!
His body was completely undefended. It was practically an invitation. Please, kick me, it seemed to say. Of course I was going to close the distance at full speed. Of course I was going to slam him with everything I had.
But!
(Stupid! Moron! What an idiot I am! Why did I kick him in the stomach!? I should have just shattered his jaw and ended it!)
His swordsmanship was probably on par with Kris, maybe a little better. He was strong, but he hadn't learned to remove the tells from his sword forms, so his attacks were easy to predict.
(The problem is the occasional kicks and beams he uses to keep me at bay! They're more dangerous than the sword itself!)
This was like playing a ridiculously hard rhythm game where my life was on the line, where if I didn't react the instant I felt the future blur, it was too late. I knew fighting him head-on with solid footing would be a disadvantage, but I didn't think it would be this bad! The past version of me was a genius. All your predictions were spot on. The one at fault is the current me, who reflexively made a half-assed attack and jumped right into a crisis.
(…So, this is my weakness.)
To survive Mihawk and Rayleigh's insane double all-range attack—a deadly net of slashes that had recently become almost flawless—I had to find the thinnest part of the net, make a single strike to open a path, and then immediately evade. My foot techniques, my Cat Claws, my Silent Step, they were all developed for that. The swords they wielded were real, enhanced with Haki. If I didn't read the distance perfectly, my head would be lopped off and my body diced into pieces. Idiot.
"You worked too hard. That's why you scared the bigwigs in the Government."
"Have you realized that the same could be said for the Navy!?"
"…"
"If the Navy continues to fight, destroys all pirates, and makes the seas completely the Government's, how do you think the Government will treat the Navy then!?"
"…You say some harsh things."
Sorry, Kizaru, I can't organize my thoughts while fighting, so I'm just going to needle you a bit to buy some time—whoa, that was close! This guy just shoots off a Glint-Glint Kick the moment I let my guard down!
"This surprise attack, and the Government's actions during the reconstruction! Where is the logic of a ruler in any of it!? Where has the justice of a governor gone!?"
"…I may have a fancy title, but I'm just a public servant, you knooow? I don't know a thing about politics."
"But you must know the current situation! You, an Admiral, can't possibly be unaware of the nations that were stripped of their affiliation after being unable to pay the Heavenly Tribute, lost the Navy's protection, and were immediately devoured by pirates!"
…
Wait, no… wait a minute.
Thinking about it, this is incredibly strange. Even if the Holy Land is their top priority, the member nations are their territory, aren't they? The kings are just viceroys.
(I can understand squeezing them to keep them in line, but why do they have no hesitation in crushing them? There's no benefit to weakening their own territory.)
To make an example of them? No, no, in times like these, making such an example is… pointless. You can't get blood from a stone. No matter how short-sighted the Celestial Dragons are, there are people like the Five Elders who do look ahead, at least to some extent. And yet—
(No, no, that's not what I should be thinking about right now.)
A quick glance confirmed Hina and the others were safe. There were no more pursuers. They had all run aground. I don't know if they didn't think to go around, or if I had lured them into a place where they couldn't, but their ship was safe for now.
(All that's left is to deal with the Admiral in front of me!)
I had to at least fight him to a draw. The West Blue battle was a guaranteed victory. The only hitch was that we hadn't had time to even begin organizing the army we would need to expand our territory, but we had made all the necessary preparations to win. If we did, Daz and the others would be known as the pirates who defeated a fleet led by a Marine Admiral, and their prestige would skyrocket. Even if I were captured and executed, with so many capable deputies, the organization would be fine. It would even be possible for them to rapidly expand and put the plans left behind by the 'Green Fox' into action. But if I were to be defeated and captured here, it would tarnish that prestige. I had to—not necessarily defeat him, but I needed the fact that I had fought an Admiral on equal terms.
"You are—"
"Yes?"
"You, of all people… can you change it?"
"…Impossible. I can't do anything by myself."
"I thought sooo."
"To change anything, the mindset of the Celestial Dragons must be reformed. The only possible catalyst for that would be to interfere with their culture of 'consumption' in some way and create a new one from there."
And that was why my plan to slowly probe them through trade and commerce had been completely ruined. Now, there was no choice but to cross blades. I had intended to somehow—at the very least, maintain a line of communication until the very last moment! Why did they have to go and do this!?
"I believe that the Navy—that Fleet Admiral Sengoku and I—are aiming for the same thing. But for now, we have no choice but to fight."
"Even if my opponent is you."
Reacting instinctively in the heat of battle wasn't wrong. Without it, I couldn't face Kizaru alone. I was successfully keeping him in check, but the other soldiers weren't to be underestimated either.
(The problem is that my thoughts are not riding on top of those reflexive actions…)
In this fight against Kizaru, I was only playing 'standard moves,' so to speak. It was like moving my silver forward just because he moved his knight, without considering the other roles the silver could play.
"…So close."
"…"
"Really, so close."
A single line of thought is immediately overwritten by reflex. If that was the problem, then—
(I see…)
(All I have to do is split my thoughts, operate them independently, and then integrate them.)
***
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