It wasn't long after Oboro and Dom entered the building that the remaining members of the Flame Dragon Pirates began their own infiltration attempt. They followed the same route Oboro had mapped out, creeping through the shadows with desperate hope burning in their chests.
But they failed spectacularly.
Gunshots erupted across the street like firecrackers during a festival, followed by the harsh shouts of combat and the clatter of weapons striking flesh. A massive wave of Navy soldiers converged from all directions, their white uniforms creating a tide of authority that swept away any hope of escape.
The chaos lasted perhaps ten minutes before an oppressive silence settled over the district.
As expected, the rest of the crew had been captured.
Soon after, Navy soldiers began methodically searching the building where Oboro and Dom had taken refuge. Boots thundered up staircases, doors slammed open, and harsh voices barked orders as they combed through every room, every closet, every possible hiding spot.
Yet when the search concluded, they found nothing.
Obviously, Dom's former companions had betrayed him the moment capture became inevitable. Once the Marines had them in custody, revealing Oboro and Dom's location would have been their first desperate attempt to bargain for lenient treatment.
This was the true nature of pirate "friendship"—loyalty that lasted only as long as personal safety remained assured. There had been no talk of rescue beforehand, and Oboro had estimated that if he and Dom were caught, their supposed allies would have fled as fast as their legs could carry them.
"Thank you," Dom whispered hoarsely.
Hours had passed since the failed infiltration. The sun now climbed steadily toward its zenith, painting the lawless zone in harsh golden light. Oboro lay concealed in a thick patch of bushes, his scarred features hidden by shadows and vegetation, while Dom stood before him wearing the crisp uniform of a Navy enlisted man.
It was a classic case of hiding in plain sight—the darkness beneath the lamp, as the old saying went.
The chaos created by the captured pirates had provided Oboro with the perfect opportunity to execute his contingency plan. During the confusion of shift changes and prisoner processing, he had managed to acquire a Navy uniform and establish Dom in a guard position that was both remote and strategically valuable.
Dom's post was deliberately isolated from the main patrol routes, and compared to Oboro's distinctively scarred appearance, the yellow-haired pirate's unremarkable features wouldn't draw unwanted attention while wearing military dress.
The Navy had completed their sweep of every building on the street, confident in their thoroughness.
"Any movement in your sector?" A Navy sergeant approached Dom's position, his weathered face displaying the kind of professional suspicion that came from years of hunting criminals.
"Sir, negative! No contact!" Dom snapped to attention with military precision, his eyes fixed straight ahead as regulation demanded.
The sergeant nodded approvingly and moved on to check the next guard station, satisfied that this particular soldier was performing his duties with appropriate dedication.
"You..." Dom began hesitantly once they were alone again, his voice barely audible above the distant sounds of ongoing patrols.
"Yes, it's me," Oboro confirmed with dark amusement, his head resting casually on his hands despite the deadly circumstances surrounding them. There was no trace of tension in his posture, no hint of the fear that should have consumed anyone in his position. "Are you going to report me? If you shout right now, I probably couldn't escape in time."
It was perfectly natural for Dom to harbor suspicions about Oboro's true identity. A so-called newcomer who had never been a pirate before displaying such tactical mastery? The very idea was laughable to anyone with functioning brain cells.
Dom wasn't completely stupid, despite his earlier naivety.
"Really?" Dom swallowed hard, his throat working nervously as he changed the subject. "How could I possibly report you? I'm a pirate myself—if I'm caught, my fate won't be much better than yours. We're in the same boat now, whether we like it or not."
He paused, wrestling with the implications of their situation. "But... I'm afraid you won't be able to get aboard our ship anymore."
"You're a Celestial Dragon's escaped slave. No one has the courage to harbor you, and once you're discovered..." He left the sentence hanging, but the meaning was clear enough.
Before Dom could finish articulating his concerns, Oboro suddenly closed his eyes and spoke with casual certainty. "Get ready. Your identity will definitely be discovered during the next shift rotation, so before that happens, we need to return to the building we discussed earlier. They've already searched that location and won't waste manpower checking it again. Moreover, most of their forces have been dispersed to expand the search perimeter—they believe we've already escaped their initial containment."
"Understood," Dom responded automatically, his survival instincts overriding his confusion.
Whether he lived or died now depended entirely on this mysterious man's continued protection. What disturbed him most was the stark contrast between his own barely controlled panic and Oboro's supernatural calm. The escaped slave's clear, analytical thinking in the face of mortal danger was genuinely frightening.
"If we escape this time and successfully leave Sabaody Archipelago, you'll be my benefactor for life," Dom said with heartfelt sincerity.
"Don't be so dramatic." Oboro's tone carried hints of amusement. "If the Navy can't locate anyone after ten days or two weeks, they'll scale back operations significantly. Sabaody will return to its normal state—at most, they'll issue my wanted poster and maintain increased patrols for a while. The Navy's strength here is only temporary. It's impossible for them to control this place indefinitely."
He shifted slightly in his hiding spot, finding a more comfortable position among the thorny bushes. "The seas are in turmoil these days. The Navy is already stretched thin suppressing pirates throughout the Grand Line, and the Yonko are causing even more disturbances in the New World. How can they spare resources to obsess over a small character like me? Even if I am a Celestial Dragon's former property, conducting this massive operation is sufficient explanation to their superiors."
"I'm not the only slave the Celestial Dragons have ever owned," he continued matter-of-factly. "I'm not an 'important toy' in their collection."
Oboro paused, his expression growing more serious. "But you seem to have overlooked something crucial."
"What?" Dom felt his stomach clench with premonition.
"The Navy undoubtedly knows about your association with me by now. Your former friends will have told them everything they know to minimize their own punishment. So in order to capture me, you'll also be targeted. The World Government has probably already drafted a wanted poster with your name on it. As long as you're willing to show your face in public, there's a good chance a Navy commodore or even a rear admiral will come looking for you personally."
Oboro's voice carried the casual tone of someone discussing the weather rather than a death sentence. "Can your captain protect you from that kind of heat?"
Dom felt like he was falling into an ice-filled abyss as the full implications hit him. His breath came in short, panicked gasps as the reality of his situation crystallized with brutal clarity.
He had been thinking far too simply about their predicament.
"I... I... I..." he stammered, unable to form coherent sentences as terror overwhelmed his capacity for rational thought.
Suddenly, he regretted everything—recruiting Oboro in the first place, approaching the scarred man in that alley, even leaving the relative safety of the Flame Dragon Pirates' ship. Every decision that had led to this moment seemed like monumental stupidity in retrospect.
"As a pirate, you should be celebrating," Oboro continued in a mockingly cheerful tone, even clapping his hands softly in apparent congratulation. "You're famous now! If you can fight an Admiral of Navy Headquarters and somehow survive, your name will echo across the seas. Even your captain might take notice of your newfound reputation."
Dom stared at him in speechless horror.
"Bastard!" he suddenly roared, his voice cracking with rage and desperation.
His eyes were bloodshot with fury as understanding finally dawned. He had been played from the very beginning—manipulated by someone far more cunning and dangerous than he had ever imagined.
"What's wrong?" Oboro asked with feigned innocence. "Didn't you just call me your benefactor?"
"You... I... What am I supposed to do now?" Dom's voice broke as the full scope of his trapped situation became clear.
No matter which direction he turned, he could see only dead ends stretching before him. An Admiral was the Navy's ultimate weapon against the Yonko themselves—beings who could split islands with their bare hands and command fleets numbering in the thousands. Dom was just a small fish with a pathetic 5 million berry bounty. Hell, any Lieutenant from Navy Headquarters could kill him as easily as swatting a fly.
To make matters worse, he had lied about his rank within the Flame Dragon Pirates. He wasn't a senior officer at all—just a low-level combatant, a minor cadre with no real authority or protection.
"As long as anyone knows your face, you can't think about returning to your old life," Oboro explained with clinical detachment. "You can't go back to the Flame Dragon Pirates. Your options are limited: change your appearance completely and flee to somewhere no one knows you, adopt a new identity and start over from scratch, or join a force powerful enough to protect you from government retaliation."
"What about you?" Dom shot back desperately. "Your situation is ten times worse than mine! What are you going to do?"
Once Oboro's wanted poster was distributed throughout the seas, his distinctive scarred appearance would make him instantly recognizable. No one in the entire ocean—except perhaps the Yonko themselves—would dare openly confront the World Government's wrath.
"What I just described are paths that might suit you," Oboro replied calmly, opening his eyes to fix Dom with an unreadable stare. "That doesn't mean they suit me."
"Pirates and the Navy are inherently opposed—that's the natural order of things. Among pirates, there are always mavericks, extremely courageous individuals, and plenty of complete idiots who make decisions based on pride rather than logic. As long as you live long enough and search hard enough, there's always somewhere to belong."
His smile held no warmth, only the calculating coldness of someone who had learned to survive in worlds where mercy was a luxury few could afford. "As for me... I don't need to rely on anyone else's power. I am enough."
Dom fell silent, wrestling with concepts that seemed to exist far beyond his understanding. In the back of his mind, he remembered stories about Fisher Tiger and the Sun Pirates—how they had accomplished the impossible by infiltrating the Holy Land itself and freeing countless slaves from Celestial Dragon ownership. Such legendary feats seemed to belong in fairy tales rather than reality.
"Can you... help me?" Dom's lips were dry as desert sand, his voice barely a whisper.
For reasons he couldn't articulate, Dom felt that this man could keep him alive against impossible odds. Despite Oboro's seemingly hopeless situation, despite the entire World Government hunting him, there was something about his absolute confidence that inspired desperate hope.
"Sure," Oboro smiled, and for the first time since their conversation began, the expression seemed genuinely warm rather than coldly analytical.
The single word carried implications that would reshape both their destinies, though neither man could have predicted the strange alliance that was about to unfold in the shadow of the Yarukiman Mangroves.