The man's eyes, cold and assessing, shifted to her. He took a slow sip from his glass, the ice clinking softly. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, rumbling baritone that carried the chill of deep ocean trenches.
"Ohara," he said, the word hanging in the suddenly frigid air like a frozen ghost. "That's a name you don't hear every day."
Marya leaned back in the booth, the worn leather creaking softly. She looked up at the towering figure, her golden eyes unblinking. She cocked her head, a single finger tapping a slow, thoughtful rhythm on the table's surface. "Vice Admiral Aokiji," she stated, her voice clear and carrying.
The effect was instantaneous. The tavern's warm hum of conversation died, strangled into a thick, brittle silence. The name, the rank—they were a bucket of ice water thrown on the room's cozy atmosphere. Forks froze halfway to mouths. Dice stopped rolling. Every eye, wide with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity, was locked on the booth.
Jannali let out a low, appreciative whistle that cut through the quiet. "Crikey."
At the bar, Atlas's charming smile vanished. Poppy, the skunk mink, said something to him, but he was already turning, his large frame unfolding from the stool with a sudden, serious intent. He moved to the booth, not with aggression, but with a watchful readiness, sliding onto the edge of the bench beside Galit, his posture making it clear he was prepared for instant action.
Aokiji's gaze never left Marya. He assessed her through the lingering silence, drawing out the tension until it was a physical weight. Then, he returned the favor, his lazy drawl somehow making the revelation more potent. "Dracule Marya Zaleska. Daughter of the infamous Warlord, Dracule Mihawk."
This time, a collective gasp rippled through the room, followed by the distant, sharp crash of a glass slipping from a nervous hand and shattering on the floor.
A faint, dark smirk played on Marya's lips. "Why are you looming over our booth, Vice Admiral?"
"I am no longer with the Navy," he corrected, his tone flat. "I'm retired."
Marya leaned forward, resting her chin on a bent elbow, her expression one of cool skepticism. "You expect us to believe you've crossed over to the other side? Casting away all your beliefs and years of service, just like that?"
"It appears the rumors are true," Aokiji mused, ignoring her question. His eyes scanned her from head to toe. "You are just like him. What is it they call you?" He let the question hang for a beat. "His shadow."
Marya's smirk became openly smug. "What's a former vice admiral like you doing in a place like this?"
Aokiji placed his half-finished drink on their table. Under his arm was a folded newspaper, which he tossed down next to the glass. "Your conversation piqued my interest."
Jannali, unable to stay out of it, interjected. "You're chasing phantoms, mate. Seeking redemption for past sins." She turned to Marya, her voice dropping into a cryptic murmur. "The wind whispers of frozen regrets."
Atlas, his eyes fixed on the colossal former admiral, muttered out of the side of his mouth, "Who's the new girl?"
Jelly, oblivious to the deadly tension, bounced on the table. "Bloop! Cold man! Brrr!"
Aokiji's chilling gaze returned to Marya. "What is your interest in Ohara?"
Marya opened her mouth, a flippant dismissal ready on her tongue, but her eyes caught the headline on the newspaper. Her words died unspoken. Her smirk vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense focus. She reached across the table, her movements slow and deliberate, and slid the paper toward her.
An image dominated the front page: Trafalgar D. Water Law and Monkey D. Luffy, pictured together under a banner announcing a shocking pirate alliance. Marya unfolded it, her eyes scanning the article quickly. The rest of the table watched as her usual stoic composure fractured, replaced by a deep, unsettling concentration.
Galit adjusted his glasses, his analytical mind noting the shift. "Do you know them?"
Marya didn't look up, her finger tapping Law's image. "I know Law." She shook her head slightly, her brow furrowing as she looked at Luffy's grinning face. "I don't know who this is. But I've seen his wanted poster."
Aokiji provided the answer, his voice a low rumble. "Monkey D. Luffy. A young upstart pirate captain."
Jannali perked up, her earlier crypticness snapping into sharp focus. "Monkey D. Luffy… he is the other…" She trailed off, her eyes widening as if hearing a distant chorus only she could perceive.
Atlas frowned, watching the strange look on her face. "You alright, lady?"
Jannali nodded slowly, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "Yeah… we walk with the umbra. The new dawn is fast approaching."
Atlas's eyes went wide. He swallowed hard, the color draining from his face. "What did you just say?" he breathed, the words barely audible.
Marya was muttering to herself, half-lost in the article. "A pirate alliance… and the crew is…" She stopped abruptly, her head snapping up. She had almost divulged the Heart Pirates' location to a former Admiral. Her jaw tightened. She folded the paper with a sharp, crisp motion and placed it back on the table, her golden eyes locking onto Aokiji with renewed intensity. "What do you want… former Vice Admiral?"
Aokiji gave an almost imperceptible sigh. "I told you. I'm retired."
"That is yet to be seen," Marya countered, her voice like steel. "No one is going to just believe you've shed a lifetime of loyalty to the World Government."
Aokiji shifted his weight, the floorboards creaking under him. He changed the subject, his focus returning to its original point. "What do you want with Ohara?"
Galit pushed his glasses up his nose, his voice crisp and defensive. "We do not share information with people we do not know."
Aokiji flexed his jaw, the muscle ticking. He schooled his features back into an expression of lazy confidence. "The World Government doesn't like people poking around Ohara. Even for a crew as strong as yours, an Admiral-led task force can be... inconvenient." He let the threat hang in the air before continuing. "I know their protocols. Their codes. Their commanders. I can help you avoid them. Or, if it comes to it, I can deal with them. Consider me an insurance policy."
Marya let out a soft, derisive chuckle. "We can handle whatever comes." She paused, her head tilting. "But I am curious to see which side you are really on."
"Marya," Galit said, her name a sharp, warning note.
She waved a dismissive hand at him without looking away from Aokiji. "Relax. I can always just kill him if he causes any problems."
Aokiji actually chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "You think it would be that easy?"
Marya's smirk returned, her eyes narrowing into challenging slits. "Would you like me to show you how easy it is?"
The tension spiked, thick enough to taste. The two of them held each other's gaze, a silent battle of wills that seemed to suck all the air from the room. It stretched for a long, heart-thumping moment.
BUURRRAAAP!
Jelly let out a tremendous, wet belch, the ice in his empty glass clinking wildly. "Fizzies!" he giggled.
Jannali burst out laughing, the sound breaking the spell. "You lot are completely off your rockers!"
Galit groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. "Insanity." He took a deep breath, forcibly redirecting the conversation. "Marya. This side quest you mentioned earlier?"
Marya's attention finally broke from Aokiji. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Vivre Card, its torn edge inching persistently in one direction. She handed it to Galit. "We have to find someone. Think you can figure out a trajectory and a location with this?"
Galit held the living paper in his palm, watching its slow, deliberate movement. He nodded. "Yes. It will be easier on the sub, though. The navigation systems can plot its vector against the Grand Line's magnetic fields." He looked around at their assembled, chaotic group. "We should head back. We have everything we came here for."
Marya gave a single, decisive nod. "Agreed." The decision was made, the strange, chilling interlude with the former admiral momentarily set aside, but far from forgotten.
The group rose from the booth, a mismatched assembly that drew every eye in the silent tavern. Marya led the way, her posture unbothered by the weight of the attention or the former admiral's presence at her back. Jannali followed with a swagger, shooting a wink at a stunned patron. Galit was already absorbed in his tablet, calculating the new variables, while Atlas brought up the rear, his large frame a silent, watchful barrier between them and the rest of the room. Jelly bounced along beside Marya, and Kuzan Aokiji moved with them, his lazy, loping gait somehow keeping pace without effort, the air around him several degrees cooler.
As they pushed through the heavy tavern door and vanished into the sulfurous twilight of Bootleg Island, the tension of the room was released in a collective exhale. Conversations cautiously restarted, the clink of glasses resuming its familiar rhythm.
In a concealed dark corner, shrouded in shadow from a broken overhead lantern, a figure remained perfectly still. One hand, gloved in black, rested on the sticky surface of a small table. As the door swung shut, cutting off the sight of the departing group, the figure moved. The hand slid into a deep pocket and retrieved a Den Den Mushi. Its shell was a nondescript grey, but its face was frozen in a perpetually grumpy expression.
The figure held the snail to their lips, their own face hidden in the deep cowl of a cloak. A button was pressed. The Den Den Mushi's eyes snapped open, its features morphing into a likeness of sharp, cruel angles and a single, visible eye burning with impatient malice.
A voice, filtered and distorted by the snail, grated out. "Report."
The figure in the corner leaned closer, their own voice a hushed, eager whisper. "Target confirmed, Admiral. Dracule Marya has been spotted. And I know her next destination."
On the other end, in a lavishly appointed cabin aboard a Marine warship, Admiral Casimir "The Gilded Raptor" sat in a high-backed chair of polished ebony. His impeccably tailored, ivory-white admiral's coat was stark against the dark wood. His fingers, clad in fine leather gloves, had been drumming a slow, agitated rhythm on the armrest. They stilled at the news. A low, rumbling growl built in his throat. "Continue."
The informant's whisper gained a triumphant edge. "Ohara, sir. She is en route to Ohara."
Casimir's growl deepened, becoming a viscous, hungry sound. "Ohara." He rolled the word around in his mouth like a fine wine. "Interesting." The island's name was a ghost, a cursed word in certain circles. A place of obliterated knowledge, perfect for someone digging into forbidden histories. Perfect for her.
The informant, sensing the admiral's interest, rushed to add the final, crucial piece of intelligence. "And sir… Kuzan Aokiji is with her."
The drumming fingers froze completely. The only sound in the opulent cabin was the low hum of the ship's engines and the Admiral's suddenly arrested breath. The grumpy visage of the Den Den Mushi seemed to sharpen, its one eye narrowing.
"Kuzan," Casimir breathed, the name a venomous curse. Then, slowly, an expression of pure, unadulterated malice spread across his face. It was not a smile of joy, but a grimace of predatory delight, a pulling back of lips to reveal too-sharp teeth. The silver Mariejois-minted quarter he constantly rolled over his knuckles appeared in his hand, catching the cabin's light with a cold glint.
"Excellent!" The word was a sharp crack of satisfaction. It was a dream scenario. The shadow of Mihawk who had scarred him, and the traitorous former admiral who represented everything he despised, delivered together on a single platter. A chance to erase his greatest failure and bag a legendary prize for the World Government in one stroke.
The informant on the other end began to say something else, perhaps to ask for instructions, but the connection died with a definitive click. Casimir had severed the call without another word. He sat in the ensuing silence, the evil grin still etched on his face, his mind already racing with strategies, the cold glint of the silver coin dancing between his fingers like a promise of coming ruin.
The bizarre motley crew filed into the sleek, technologically advanced submarine moored in a hidden volcanic cove. The interior was a marvel of polished metal, glowing blue screens, and bundled wiring, humming with a low, powerful energy. It was a stark contrast to the island's rough, organic chaos.
Galit immediately slid into the pilot's chair before the main control panel, a vast array of dials, screens, and holographic projectors. He placed the Vivre Card on a designated reader. A complex, shimmering holographic map of the Grand Line bloomed into the air above the console. His fingers flew across the interface, pressing buttons and adjusting dials with practiced urgency, the blue light reflecting in his glasses as he began triangulating the card's persistent pull.
Jannali whistled, dropping into the co-pilot's seat with a thud. "Blimey, this is a bit flash for a tin can, ain't it?" Her eyes wide with curiosity, she reached a hand toward a glowing dial.
Galit didn't look up, but his hand shot out, slapping hers away without ceremony. "Don't. Touch."
"Relax, mate! Just having a squiz," Jannali said, pouting and rubbing her hand.
From near the entrance, Atlas folded his massive arms, his shoulders nearly brushing both walls of the narrow corridor. "It's starting to get a little cramped in here with this many bodies," he rumbled. "Might be time for an upgrade."
Marya, leaning against a bulkhead, was about to offer a dry retort when a sound cut through the low hum of the engines—the distinct, insistent brrrring of a Den Den Mushi. It wasn't the main line. This ringtone was different, emanating from a concealed compartment in the rear. Her brow furrowed. Few people had that number.
She pushed off the wall and moved aft, her boots silent on the metal grating. Aokiji, a silent, looming shadow, detached himself from where he'd been observing and followed her with his characteristic lazy gait.
Marya opened a small, disguised hatch in the galley area, revealing a private Den Den Mushi nestled within. The snail's features had morphed, taking on a familiar, severe countenance: a sharp goatee, intense eyes shadowed by the brim of a wide hat. It was the unmistakable visage of Dracule Mihawk.
Marya sat on a stool at the small counter and picked up the receiver. Instead of speaking, she began to tap it rhythmically, tap-tap-tap-tap, against the formica surface.
Aokiji leaned against the counter opposite her, crossing his arms, his expression one of cool interest.
After her sequence ended, a series of answering taps, sharp and immediate, echoed from the receiver. They went back and forth in this strange, staccato conversation, a private code of clicks and pauses. Marya smirked at one particular series, a low chuckle escaping her. The Mihawk-faced Den Den Mushi seemed to grin in response.
Aokiji broke the silence, his voice a low rumble. "So. You do stay in communication with him."
The Den Den Mushi's eyes instantly narrowed, the grin vanishing into a look of severe disapproval.
Marya cut her eyes at Aokiji, a scowl darkening her features. "You announce your presence to the most observant man in the world. Brilliant."
A series of rapid, agitated taps emanated from the snail, the sound irritable and demanding.
Marya sighed, rolling her eyes heavenward. She tapped out a quick response, her fingers moving with exasperated speed.
The eyes of the Den Den Mushi flashed a sudden, shocking crimson, fixing a glare of pure, undiluted menace on Aokiji. Marya chuckled again, a genuine sound of amusement.
Aokiji didn't need a translation. "I don't know the code, but I believe I got the message."
Marya shook her head, a wry smile playing on her lips as she continued her silent conversation. After several more exchanged sequences, the Den Den Mushi gave a final, definitive click and its features relaxed into a generic, sleepy expression.
Marya leaned back on her stool. "So dramatic," she muttered to the empty air.
Aokiji watched her, a thoughtful crease in his brow. "It seems the last reports about the two of you were... inaccurate."
Marya raised a questioning eyebrow.
"It was assumed you were estranged," he continued. "But I see that is not the case."
Marya shook her head, standing up. "If you think that, you know absolutely nothing about my father. Because if you did, you'd know how ridiculous that statement is." She walked out of the galley, leaving him there.
Aokiji watched her go, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. "I can see that now," he muttered to the empty room.
Marya returned to the main cabin, where the controlled chaos was reaching a peak. Jelly was bouncing off the walls in excitement, his form leaving faint, sticky patches on the metal. "Bloop! We go fast now?"
"Galit," Marya's voice cut through the noise, calm and clear. "Do you have a destination?"
Galit spun his chair around to face her, letting out a long-suffering sigh. He pushed his glasses up his nose.
Marya cocked her head. "What is it?"
Atlas grinned, a flash of white in the dim light. "It's moving." He cracked his knuckles, the sound like small rocks grinding together. "Your person is on a ship."
Galit nodded, gesturing to the holographic map. A glowing dot was moving steadily across the projected sea. "It's just as the... 'furball'... implied. The vector is clear. The ship is on a direct course for Mary Geoise."
Aokiji, who had just re-entered the cabin, went still. "The Holy Land?" he said, the words heavy with implication.
"How much time do we have?" Marya asked, her golden eyes fixed on the moving dot.
"At their current speed and heading," Galit said, adjusting a dial and watching numbers scroll across a screen, "they will make landfall before nightfall."
Marya blinked once, a slow, considering motion. "Then we better get moving."
Atlas's grin widened. "Told you we needed a bigger boat."
Galit pinched the bridge of his nose. "We should take the time to formulate a plan. Infiltrating the seat of the World Government is not a trivial endeavor."
Marya gave a dismissive wave. "If they get to Mary Geoise, a plan scribbled on a napkin won't serve us. We adapt when we get there."
Galit stared at her. "So we are just going to... wing it? Storm the most heavily fortified place on the planet on a whim?"
Jannali blinked in sheer disbelief. "You're actually serious."
Marya shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. "How bad could it be?"
A low, rumbling chuckle came from Aokiji. "I don't know if I should be more impressed with the level of technology in this submarine," he mused, "or the sheer, staggering depth of your overconfidence."
Marya glanced at him, a smirk touching her lips. "And yet, here you are with us. Feel free to step off. Last chance."
Aokiji chuckled again, a genuine sound of dark amusement. "Oh no. I want to stay. I have to see how this plays out."
Marya returned her attention to Galit. "Plot the course." She found an available seat, strapped herself in with a sharp click, and let her head fall back against the rest, closing her eyes as if preparing for a nap. The hum of the engines deepened, and the submarine began to glide silently into the deep, dark waters, its course set for the heart of the world's power.
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