Chapter 63 – The Rescue
Grand Line – New World, G-11 Branch Headquarters.
Inside the office of Vice Admiral Tachibana Kyūjō.
A Den Den Mushi was buzzing softly on his desk.
The one calling was none other than the leader of the Revolutionary Army—Monkey D. Dragon.
It had been a while since Kyūjō left East Blue. Dragon's call today was to deliver a particular piece of intel—something Kyūjō had personally requested before.
The Revolutionary Army's intelligence network was second only to that of the World Government itself.
But Kyūjō's request wasn't complicated. He simply asked Dragon to keep tabs on one specific underworld organization—the one led by Donquixote Doflamingo.
— — —
"I see. Got it. Thanks, Dragon," Kyūjō said calmly, speaking into the receiver.
A light chuckle came from the other end, followed by Dragon's voice:
"Hahaha... No, I should be the one thanking you. If it weren't for our last talk... I might've never realized just how immature and fragile our revolution really is."
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Grand Line – Paradise, First Half.
Night. Sea Swallow Island.
Inside a lavish castle lit by warm lamps, the sounds of laughter, clinking mugs, and rowdy celebration filled the air. A group of pirates was throwing a feast, acting like they had just struck gold.
One drunk, low-ranking officer from a small-time crew stumbled over to the captain and slurred out a question.
"Hey, Boss Mins... what's the big deal with that fruit anyway? I mean, sure, they say it makes you a great doctor or somethin', but... five billion Berries? C'mon, even the rarest Logia Fruit doesn't go for that much!"
Their captain, a burly man with wild yellow feathers draped over his coat—Captain Mins—snorted with amusement.
From beneath his jacket, he pulled out a strange Devil Fruit shaped like a heart, red and glossy like a twisted apple.
His eyes were hazy, his voice laced with greed.
"Who cares why? If the Navy's willing to pay five billion Berries for it, that's all that matters!"
"With that much money, we could disappear to Sabaody and live like kings. No more pirate life, just luxury! Hahaha—"
Before he could finish his sentence—
The chandeliers above exploded.
The room was swallowed in darkness.
Not a single sound followed. Just pure, suffocating silence.
And then—
A searing pain smashed into the back of Captain Mins' skull. His vision spun violently. Nausea crashed over him like a tidal wave.
The next thing anyone saw, the captain's massive body hit the floor with a thud, eyes rolled back. He never even got a chance to react.
A pair of shadowy arms emerged from the darkness, swiftly snatching the heart-shaped Ope Ope no Mi from the unconscious captain.
Without so much as a word, the cloaked figure turned and disappeared into the shadows.
A second later, they tossed a small device into the center of the room.
The explosion that followed was soundless—but devastating.
Captain Mins and over a dozen of his crewmates were obliterated before they even knew what hit them.
The flash of the explosion illuminated the silhouette of the thief:
A tall, slender man dressed like a clown, wrapped in a black feathered coat. In his hand, he held the Ope Ope Fruit close to his chest, eyes trembling with emotion.
"Law... you're going to be okay. I did it. I actually did it...!"
It was Donquixote Rosinante, a secret operative embedded deep within the Donquixote Family. The adopted son of Fleet Admiral Sengoku. Wielder of the Nagi Nagi no Mi, a Devil Fruit that silences all sound.
A man who had lived a lie for years—just to save one child.
But in that moment of relief… he let his guard down.
His foot slipped on a patch of snow at the edge of the cliff.
All 435 centimeters of him went tumbling down the slope like a giant spinning top.
He slammed into the ground below with a heavy thud—and was immediately surrounded.
Over a dozen flintlock rifles were pointed directly at his head.
No questions. No warnings.
They pulled their triggers.
Rosinante, flat on his back, barely had time to react. He forced his body into a crude Tekkai stance—one of the Marine's six basic combat styles—despite never truly mastering it.
But before the bullets could hit—
A razor-sharp flash of light cut through the air.
The bullets split clean in half mid-flight.
Without wasting a second, a figure appeared in a blur.
His sword danced once.
And in the blink of an eye… every enemy soldier was down.
Kyūjō's blade, Rairyūken, slid smoothly back into its sheath, the soft hum of metal whispering like a sigh.
It was almost as if the sword itself was complaining:
"You're using a blade like me to deal with these weaklings? Don't do this again, Kyūjō..."
— — —
Rosinante's eyes widened in disbelief.
That man... That wasn't just anyone.
That was Seiryu. The legendary Vice Admiral known as the World's Greatest Swordsman.
Even his father—Sengoku himself—had mentioned this name many times over the Den Den Mushi.
He must be so proud to have a nephew like him...
Unlike me... I'm just a failure—doing petty missions, barely—
But before Rosinante could spiral further into self-loathing, Kyūjō walked over and offered his hand.
"You're Rosinante, right?"
"Don't worry. Uncle Sengoku's told me all about you."
"I heard about this whole mess from another source, and since I wasn't far from Sea Swallow Island, I figured I'd check it out."
"Good thing I did. You would've been dead trying to tank that volley with a half-baked Tekkai."
"I keep telling Uncle Sengoku to ditch Tekkai and replace it with Busoshoku Haki as the Marines' new standard, but—old men and their traditions, right?"
There was an unexpected playfulness in Kyūjō's voice, and Rosinante finally managed a smile.
But that smile quickly faded.
He remembered why he came here in the first place.
Law.
He was still dying.
Rosinante's expression turned grave.
After a moment of hesitation, he locked eyes with Kyūjō.
"…Can I trust you?"
Kyūjō didn't hesitate. He smiled gently and nodded.
That was all Rosinante needed.
Without another word, he took off—leading Kyūjō toward a hidden spot on the island.
As they ran, he began explaining everything…
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