"Oh—so it's you lot! Here I was thinking the angels themselves had come to escort me to paradise! Long time no see, all three of you!"
"Been a while, Mr. 2."
"You look… healthy. Very."
"Yeah. You can tell at a glance. Not even worth asking."
"H-hey now, Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine! Don't flatter me like that! Even I'm gonna blush—ngaaah-hahahaha!"
So, here's what happened.
After putting on facial expressions that would be physically impossible in the real world, Mr. 2 Bon Clay—Bon-chan—spotted familiar faces on our "flying ship" and just… hopped aboard like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I'd heard he'd been captured, but he looks completely fine.
Mikita had looked the same earlier—so lively it was almost pointless to ask how she was doing. If this isn't "fine," then most people in the world would qualify as chronically frail. He's bright, loud, energetic, and practically overflowing with life.
"And you must be Miss Goldenweek's friend—the 'Pirate Literary Master,' yes? I'm so happy to meet you! I'm Mr. 2 Bon Clay! And these are my subordinates!"
"""Pleased to meet you!"""
"Ah—yes. Nice to meet you…"
He's talking normally. Perfectly politely. And yet I'm still backing up a half-step, just from the sheer… intensity.
Up close, it hits you.
His face, his presence, his personality—everything is concentrated. Dense. Like the world cranked the saturation to max.
I liked him as a character, honestly. I still do. But this is the kind of person you want to admire from a safe distance.
When he's spinning in circles while talking so hard you can practically feel the wind pressure… yeah. That kind of "safe distance."
Honey, frozen beside me with the same blank stare, is probably thinking the exact same thing.
He's a good guy. I know that.
And then there's the other weird thought: he's four years younger than me.
Thirty.
It's not a problem. It's not. It just does something to my brain that I don't like.
"By the way, Sue-chan, you call Miss Goldenweek and the others by name, don't you? My real name is Bentham, but if you like, call me 'Bon-chan!' It's a nickname my friends used, and it means a lot to me. I love it!"
"I see… then, nice to meet you, Bon-chan."
"Likewise! Ngaaah-hahahaha! Now then—Goldenweek-chan, you're heading to the detention facility too, right?"
With a quick spin, he zipped over to Marianne.
…The height difference is absurd.
Bon-chan is towering. Marianne is craning her neck so far up she might sprain something.
Later I learned the numbers: Bon-chan is 238 cm. Marianne is 145 cm.
A 93 cm gap.
The One Piece world really does treat human anatomy as a suggestion.
"Yeah. We are. Are you going too, Bon-chan?"
"Ohh, you're calling me that too? I'm touched! Yes, yes—I am. My subordinates are being held there, so I was going to rescue them. Which means…"
He grinned wide.
"Wanna go together?"
So that's why.
Even with that constant "ngaaah-hahahaha" face, there's no hesitation in his eyes at all. He's loyal to the bone. Fiercely. Exactly like I remember.
"Okay," Marianne nodded. "Let's go together."
Good.
Before we even execute the plan, we've picked up someone who's not just strong—but perfect for infiltration.
Whatever you want to call him, he's built for it.
He might act like a high-energy circus animal most of the time, but that Clone-Clone Fruit and the acting skills to match can fool people at a level that borders on terrifying.
"Then it's decided! Alright, you brats! From here on out, it's a joint operation with Goldenweek-chan and her friends! Get fired up—let's go!"
"""YES, SIR!"""
After that, we reworked the plan with our new teammate and headed straight for the Marine detention facility.
Everyone who'd been on my ship transferred over to the Marine vessel Bon-chan had stolen. I folded my own ship into paper and stored it away.
My ship is fast, sure.
But it's also ridiculously conspicuous.
And today is absolutely not a day for being memorable.
☆
The plan went like this:
We sail Bon-chan's stolen Marine ship right up to the detention facility, acting like we're escorting captured "Baroque Works remnants."
Marianne and the others wear handcuffs and play the prisoners.
The ones "dragging" them inside are Bon-chan (disguised as a Marine) and his subordinates (also disguised as Marines).
Once inside, they free whoever they can from the cells and immediately escape.
If they can get enough people out, the firepower problem disappears. Even without the Boss, we'd still have multiple Officer Agents and a bunch of monsters who've survived the underworld.
A detention facility's defenses should be something we can punch through—probably.
Honey and I stay behind to guard the ship.
And yes.
We're doing it right now.
A little while ago, Marianne said, "We're going," and walked into the facility wearing cuffs, acting like a prisoner. The place doesn't look huge or especially complex, so it shouldn't take long.
Any minute now, they should—
BOOOOM!!
"Oh."
"My."
A section of the facility wall exploded outward.
Dust. Debris. A shockwave.
And then I saw silhouettes—big and small—bursting out through the breach.
Good. They pulled it off—
…No.
Something's wrong.
"Honey. Can you watch the ship for a bit?"
"Hm? Why? They're already out. Don't you think they'll come back on their own? I mean, look—they're practically—"
"They might. I hope they will."
I kept my eyes on the facility.
"But there's something nasty here."
My Observation Haki snagged it.
Not just "someone is strong."
This island has multiple strong presences.
One feels around Hina-san's level.
And then there's another one that's clearly above that—sharp, heavy, and suffocating.
That one is bad news.
If Crocodile came out, maybe we could balance it out. But in the original timeline, he went to Impel Down. He even said something like "the outside world is boring."
And villains like that… they sometimes refuse freedom on principle. They have their own warped aesthetics.
Which means he might deliberately not escape.
Same for Mr. 1.
If they don't come out, our strongest fighters are Bon-chan and maybe Miss Doublefinger.
And Miss Doublefinger… I don't know. She lost to Nami in Alabasta. That memory isn't doing her any favors in my head.
Either way, that stronger presence is still there.
That's enough.
This wasn't the plan, but I'm not leaving Marianne inside a facility with something like that roaming around.
I exhaled once, slow.
"Alright."
Time to move.
☆
Side: Third-person perspective
The infiltration by Miss Goldenweek—Marianne—and her group progressed smoothly… at first.
Bon-chan (disguised as a Marine), Bon-chan's subordinates (also disguised), and Marines already under hypnosis marched their "prisoners" in chains through the checkpoints. The guards were fooled. The group penetrated deep into the detention facility.
They seized keys, opened cells, and began freeing their former colleagues—agents of Baroque Works, including their Boss.
In another block, they found the subordinates Bon-chan had come for and freed them as well.
But not everyone accepted the rescue.
Some refused to escape even when the chance was placed in their hands.
"Was that really okay…? The Boss…" Marianne murmured, glancing back.
A small, elderly woman—Miss Merry Christmas, Drophy—answered, dragging her short legs along at a brisk pace.
"It's fine. If they say they don't wanna go, we can't force 'em. Still… I don't get it. Who turns down a perfect escape?"
Beside them, Miss Doublefinger—Zala—moved with her distinctive, swaying gait, posture oddly bent.
"They might have their own values. Their own aesthetics," Zala said, eyes sharp. "Either way, we can't stay. The longer we linger, the more defenders will gather."
Sir Crocodile—Mr. 0—and Daz Bonez—Mr. 1—refused escape with a simple, cold reason:
"Not in the mood."
Even when warned that they'd almost certainly be sent to Impel Down, they didn't budge.
So only those who wanted to flee left the cell blocks.
The escape group consisted of Marianne, Drophy, Zala, Mr. 4 (Babe) and his gun Lassoo, plus Bon-chan's rescued subordinates.
"Mr. 3 wasn't there," someone muttered. "Still on the run, I guess."
"If he's not here, probably," another replied. "They were searching for him on Kyuka Island too… Well, if he hasn't been caught, that's good."
"Yeah, he's slippery. He'll manage," Bon-chan said breezily. "Now let's get outta this dump! I'm starving—I wanna get back to the ship and—"
That was when—
"YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE, YOU CRIMINALS?!"
A thunderous slash.
The corridor they were crossing split cleanly in two.
The walkway collapsed beneath their feet—yet the escapees were all veterans of the underworld. They landed with practiced ease.
Only Marianne faltered—her athletic ability was the weakest by far.
Zala wrapped an arm around her instinctively, covering her—
And paid for it.
"I hate crooked sword strokes… Right-Angle Flying Bird—'Bone Bird Audrey'!!"
A second slash screamed through the air.
Zala couldn't fully evade while protecting Marianne.
The cut landed.
"—Guh?!"
"Miss Doublefinger?!"
The attacker looked like a knight: armor, helmet, coat—yet his body was thin and bony, face harsh, and his sword was enormous, nearly his full height.
Beside him stood an even larger Marine, holding a blade like a massive cleaver—an ugly, brutal shape that radiated danger.
"M-Mr. 2 Bon Clay-sama!" one of Bon-chan's subordinates shouted. "That's 'Ship Cutter'! Marine Headquarters Captain T-Bone!"
"The guy who slices pirate ships like steak?!" someone blurted. "What's he doing here?!"
"For Crocodile," Zala hissed through pain, blood seeping. "An ex-Shichibukai escort needs real force…"
Drophy crouched beside her. "Hey—are you alright?! You took that slash head-on!"
"I'm fine," Zala forced out. "Rubble blocked part of it. The wound isn't deep."
Her eyes flicked to the larger presence.
"But that Captain is still not enough to escort a Shichibukai. Which means…"
She swallowed.
"The man next to him is higher."
"H-Higher?" someone stammered. "You mean… a Headquarters general officer…?"
A Marine voice rang out behind the blockade.
"Vice Admiral Bastille! Escapees and intruders confirmed—everyone is present! Sir Crocodile and Daz Bonez appear to have remained in their cells for unknown reasons!"
Bastille's reply came like a growl.
"Who cares what scum thinks. If they don't wanna run, let 'em rot. Leave minimal guards on them. The rest of you—round up the escapees. Now."
"Yes, sir!"
The escapees went cold.
"Did he just say… Vice Admiral…?"
"That's the worst possible…" someone whispered. "A Headquarters Vice Admiral is top-tier—below only the Admirals and the Fleet Admiral."
"And T-Bone is here too," another said, voice shaking. "Plus hundreds of Marines… Damn it. The escort force arrived. We were too late."
Mr. 4 made a panicked sound.
Someone immediately smacked him. "Not now, you idiot!"
Marianne trembled. "Zala… I'm sorry… you got hit because you protected me…"
"Stop," Zala snapped, breath harsh. "It's fine. Focus. If Bastille is here, the only ones who can fight on our side are me and Mr. 2… and I'm wounded."
She looked forward.
"This might take everything we have."
Bon-chan's laughter vanished into something sharper.
"Then we do it. No hesitation."
He snapped into his distinctive stance—wrist bent, arm like the curve of a swan's neck.
His eyes burned with resolve as he stepped in front of the wounded, facing the Marines and their two commanders.
The soldiers surged forward.
Bon-chan moved like a storm—kicks and punches clearing a path as he burst through the forming encirclement and lunged straight for Bastille and T-Bone.
"Okama Kenpo… 'Memoirs of That Winter Sky'!!"
Bastille didn't even flinch.
His huge blade—"Shark-Cutter Cleaver"—caught Bon-chan's strike with insulting ease.
Then Bastille twisted his wrist and swung—
"Headquarters Vice Admiral isn't a job for the weak."
A single, brutal impact.
Bon-chan was sent flying.
He crashed into a crumbling wall and slid down, stunned.
The sight froze everyone.
Bon-chan—one of the strongest among them—had been swatted aside in one exchange.
And the only person who might rival that level, Zala, was bleeding and unsteady.
Worse, they still had T-Bone.
The Marines kept closing in, tightening the net.
Against regular soldiers, most of them could fight. Even injured, Zala could shred grunts. Marianne could disrupt them with suggestion instead of brute force.
But none of that solved the real issue.
Even if they cleared every soldier here—
They still couldn't see a path past Bastille and T-Bone.
For a heartbeat, despair crept into every mind.
And then—
"Paper Razor Blizzard… Thousand Cherry Blossoms."
A storm of paper erupted out of nowhere.
Not harmless flakes.
Razor-edged sheets.
Hundreds—thousands—spinning through the air, shredding uniforms, cutting flesh, and blowing apart the nearly completed encirclement in an instant.
Marines recoiled.
The escapees stared.
And between the two groups, descending as if she'd stepped down from the sky itself—
Sue landed lightly, parasol in hand.
Bastille's gaze locked onto her.
"That face… those powers. You're the 'Pirate Literary Master.'"
"And you're Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral Bastille—the 'Shark-Cutter.'" Sue's tone stayed calm. "Sorry to interrupt, but I can't let you take them. So I'm stepping in."
"You're their ally?" Bastille rumbled. "I never heard you had ties to Baroque Works."
"I don't." Sue flicked her parasol slightly. "This is personal. Someone I care about is here, and I'm not letting them get dragged away."
Bastille's stance lowered, his cleaver-like sword lifting.
"Then you're a pirate protecting criminals."
Sue raised her parasol in answer.
"That's the situation."
"Then I'll arrest you too," Bastille snarled. "If you're a pirate, I've got no reason to let you walk out of here breathing."
Sue exhaled once, steady.
"Fair. Then I'll resist."
She didn't turn her head, but her voice snapped to Marianne.
"Marianne! I'll hold him off! Move—now! Don't freeze up!"
Bastille barked orders without looking away from Sue.
"I told you you're not escaping! All units—secure the Baroque Works remnants! Captain T-Bone, take command! And someone go collect that Okama I just launched!"
Both sides surged back into motion.
The escaping remnants fought and ran toward the ship they'd arrived on, striking down any Marine that blocked them.
T-Bone's soldiers moved under his command, trying to pin them down and capture them alive.
And to keep either side from interfering—
Sue and Bastille lunged at each other almost simultaneously.
Giant sword.
Parasol.
Both reinforced with Haki.
They collided with a blast so violent it kicked up shockwaves, scattering debris and forcing everyone nearby to shield their faces as the air itself boomed.
To be continued...