Lower Deck, Moby Dick – Temporary Brig
The air was thick with the salty tang of seawater and the acrid bite of rust.
Uchiha Itachi casually tossed a newspaper through the bars to Saint Charlos, once a lofty Celestial Dragon, now reduced to a sniveling prisoner.
"Unfortunately, negotiations have failed. It looks like you're going to die, Mister Celestial Dragon."
Charlos didn't even glance at the newspaper. His bloated body collapsed onto the floor, sobbing and wailing uncontrollably.
"No, please! I'm still so young! I don't want to die!"
"I'll agree to anything you want! I have so much money my father has even more! Please, don't kill me!"
If there hadn't been bars between them, he probably would've thrown himself at Itachi's legs, begging for his life.
Itachi let out a quiet sigh at the reaction, shaking his head slightly.
"Read the newspaper."
It was habitual for a shinobi like him to rely on psychological tactics, but against someone this naïvely self-absorbed, directness worked better.
Until this morning, the World Government had still been negotiating with the Whitebeard Pirates over Charlos' release. They'd valued the Celestial Dragons immensely.
But the talks had collapsed.
One side was firm: Ace must not be handed over, no matter the price.
The other side: if Ace was released, anything could be discussed.
So the meeting ended in failure.
And when today's headline read "Fleet Admiral Denounces Whitebeard's Fabrication of Celestial Dragon Status Utterly Laughable," it meant one thing:
The World Government had officially abandoned Charlos.
Their resolve to execute Ace and end the pirate era was stronger than anyone imagined.
As a shinobi from another world, Itachi wouldn't judge right or wrong. He had a mission to fulfill. That was all.
Since war was inevitable, every method was now permissible.
Charlos, however, was too deep in his meltdown to notice any of that. Tears and snot streamed down his face.
"Enough. Keep crying and I'll kill you right now."
Itachi's sharp tone snapped the man into silence. Charlos froze, trembling, then slowly reached for the newspaper.
He scanned the page. His face turned even paler.
"I really am a Celestial Dragon. How can the Navy lie like this?"
Any lingering hope vanished in an instant.
Despair consumed him.
"I'll talk. What do you want me to say?" Charlos whimpered.
"Repeat after me and remember every word."
Charlos shuddered and nodded desperately.
"You are Saint Charlos, a true Celestial Dragon. Your father is Saint Rosward. Your sister is Shalria."
I know who I am, who my father is...
Charlos opened his mouth to say something, but Itachi cut in.
"You are a true World Noble, not the fake the Navy claims you are."
"You will declare to the world that the Celestial Dragons destroy an innocent nation every three years as part of their slave-hunting games. Is this the justice the Navy claims to uphold?"
"You will declare that a man named Im has long since occupied the Empty Throne in Pangaea Castle."
"Everything the World Government preaches is a lie."
"Do you understand?"
"I... I didn't catch all of that..."
"Then memorize it. If you want to live, you'll remember every word."
...
Outside the brig, Uchiha Itachi stepped onto the lower deck where Marco was already waiting.
Clearly, this had been a joint operation between the two of them.
During their time together, Itachi's sharp intellect and detached demeanor had all but earned him the title of unofficial strategist for the Whitebeard Pirates.
"Your village's intelligence network gives me chills," Marco muttered, hands in his pockets as he fell in step beside Itachi.
Even he had felt uneasy overhearing what was said inside.
"In our world, this kind of truth would be the deepest of state secrets," Marco continued.
Without stopping, Itachi replied calmly, "The information came from our Hokage. Honestly, even I find his methods increasingly unfamiliar these days."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Maybe Ace will surprise you too."
After all, the mission had been commissioned by Ace himself. How he managed to contact the Hokage was a mystery, suggesting something or someone had changed.
"Now that's what I want to hear," Marco said with a laugh. "Hey, Itachi, once this is over, why don't you stick around? Having a tactical genius in the crew would be awesome!"
He made another attempt to recruit the shinobi. The sea breeze was fresh, the parties lively, and the rum was excellent.
But Itachi, ever the loyal confidant of the Hokage, gave no reply and walked on.
Marco clicked his tongue. The two ascended the stairs side by side, emerging onto the sunlit deck.
The wind carried the sounds of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the aroma of grilled meat. It was a world apart from the gloom of the brig.
Marco shifted to a more practical concern.
"Will that actually work?"
"It might shake their morale. If even one soldier starts to question why they're fighting, it'll make our job easier."
That much was true. The Navy had no shortage of so-called justice fanatics.
"You're probably the smartest guy in your village, aren't you?" Marco teased.
Itachi replied modestly, "Not at all. The Nara clan holds that title."
"What about the Celestial Dragon? Think he'll say what we told him to?"
"I'm not sure," Itachi said evenly. "But before the battle begins, I'll use genjutsu to reinforce his survival instinct."
Marco whistled in admiration. These ninja really didn't fight fair.
"I'd love to visit your world someday."
"You're welcome anytime."
"Come on then. Let's get back to the party. One last hurrah before we get Ace back!"
"Alright."
...
In the middle of the banquet, Whitebeard let out a booming laugh.
He gazed affectionately at his children, waving off the nurse's concern as he drained a massive bowl of sake.
"Gurararara! You think a little illness is gonna stop me from drinking?"
Just then, Marco and Itachi returned to the deck.
"Oh! Our strategist's back!" Izo called out, raising his glass. A thoroughly drunk Vista stumbled over, throwing an arm around Itachi's shoulders.
A bottle of rum was shoved into Itachi's hands. He clinked glasses with practiced ease.
Marco crossed his arms and said with a grin, "Itachi, you're getting way too comfortable with our lifestyle."
It was clear he hadn't given up on stealing the Hokage's right hand.
Itachi ignored him and walked over to Whitebeard, laying out the full plan for final confirmation.
After all, this move would make them the World Government's prime target.
But there was no turning back now.
Whitebeard scoffed.
"You think they'd spare us if we sat back and did nothing?"
The Whitebeard Pirates had always been loud and proud because they had the strength to back it up.
And now the Navy dared set a trap only because they believed Whitebeard was old, frail, and no longer a threat.
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