Chapter 12: The Weight of Innocence
The hull was a skeleton of its former self, a grotesque sculpture of splintered wood and twisted metal. Thick, black smoke curled lazily from the gaping wound where the bow should have been, a silent testament to the brutal force that had ravaged it. It looked as if a leviathan of the deep had taken a single, monstrous bite, leaving the remaining half of the ship to bob precariously on the swells.
Something catastrophic had happened. Tina's mind reeled, struggling to process the scene. This was no longer a simple escort mission; it had spiraled into an international incident.
"Did you... did you kill them all? The Don Quixote family?" Tina's voice was a hoarse, trembling whisper. She stumbled as she turned to face Ian, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief.
"I'm not sure about the little guys," Ian replied, his tone disturbingly casual. "But the one who makes things go boom got lucky. He's still hanging on to the wreckage up there. Still breathing, last I checked. It's just the hand he tried to bomb me with..."
He didn't get to finish. Tina was already running, her boots slipping on the debris-strewn deck as she scrambled towards the shattered bow. There, tangled in the broken ribs of the ship's steel keel, hung a man, his fate unclear. This had to be the one who had fought Ian. His body was a canvas of blood, and his left arm was grotesquely pinned within a shard of sharpened steel. To call it an arm was a kindness; everything from the elbow down was simply gone, atomized into a fine, crimson mist.
Ian had held back. He hadn't unleashed the full, crushing weight of his Conqueror's Haki or his peak physical power. The reason was simple: the children. Gladius's own "Pop-Pop" fruit ability, his full-body explosions, had ironically been his salvation, the concussive force marginally offsetting Ian's punch enough to keep him among the living. Ian hadn't intended a quick kill, but the arm that had borne the brunt of his counter-attack had paid the ultimate price.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Tina stormed back, her footsteps heavy with fury. She grabbed fistfuls of Ian's pristine white uniform, her knuckles white, her face flushed a deep, furious red.
"Why?" she snarled, shaking him. "Why would you attack a Warlord's crew? Give me a reason! Was it just for your own amusement? You reckless, arrogant bastard!"
She glared up at him, her chest heaving. "I admit it! Your strength... it's far beyond what I imagined. But is that a license for you to ignore orders? To act unilaterally? Do you have any idea of the repercussions? The innocent people—both in the Navy and in the world—who will suffer for your actions?"
From her perspective as a Headquarters Captain, the Shichibukai were an untouchable, necessary evil. Her anger was born of protocol and fear.
"You want a reason?" Ian's voice was calm as he pried her hands from his jacket. "Follow me."
He turned and walked toward an enclosed storage room at the stern. Before his attack, his enhanced senses had pinpointed the children's location, and he had meticulously contained the fight to ensure it never reached them. The bow was a ruin, but the stern storage remained untouched.
Bewildered, Tina had no choice but to follow. Ian reached the heavy door, gripped the iron lock, and with a sickening screech of tearing metal, ripped the entire mechanism free.
The sight inside stole the breath from Tina's lungs.
Huddled in the dark, dank confines were pairs of eyes, wide with a fear so profound it was palpable. Dozens of children, dressed in rags, clung to each other for warmth and comfort in their cold, metal cage. Sunlight streamed into the doorway, illuminating the dirty tear-tracks on their young faces. The recent explosion had terrified them into a petrified silence; even with the door open, not one dared to move.
"Hey there, little ones," Ian said, his voice softening into a gentle, reassuring tone that was utterly unlike the man she knew. He slowly crouched down. "I'm Jock Ian of the Marines. You're safe now. The bad guys... the big brother sent them flying. Are you hungry? Come on out. I'll get you some food. Navy grub is the best, you'll see."
After a tense moment, a slightly older boy mustered his courage. He peeked out, then slowly, hesitantly, crawled forward. Once out, he immediately scurried behind Ian's legs, his clear eyes scanning the world with terrified vigilance. But then he saw it—the white naval flags snapping in the breeze, the majestic warships waiting beyond. A choked sob escaped him, then turned into a wail of pure, unadulterated relief.
"Waaaah! The Navy! The real Navy is here! They saved us!"
"Woo... the pirates are gone! We... we don't have to be hungry anymore!"
"Everyone, come out! It's okay!"
Like a dam breaking, the children poured out of the storage room, their cries filling the air—a symphony of fear finally released, of nightmares ended.
"We're free! We can go home!"
"Thank you, mister! Thank you!"
"Sister, sister, can we go home now? Can we see Mommy?"
"Yes! It's over! The bad dream is over! You have to remember this big brother's face. He's a hero!"
They clung to each other, their small bodies shaking with sobs, bathing in the simple freedom of sunlight and open air.
From the group, a tiny girl, no more than two or three years old, toddled out. She rubbed her red-rimmed eyes and made her way unsteadily to Tina. She wrapped her small arms awkwardly around Tina's legs and looked up, her voice a soft, trusting whisper.
"Thank you, Navy lady. You must have been brave, like the Navy man, and fought the bad guys for us. Everyone can go home safe now, right? Navy lady... will you always protect us? You won't... you won't leave us in the sea, will you?"
The innocent words struck Tina's heart with the force of a physical blow. All her anger, her rigid adherence to rules, evaporated. She knelt, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and gently stroked the little girl's hair.
Ian walked over and stood beside her, his voice low and measured. "If you still need a reason for why I attacked a Warlord's crew... it's this. Helping the ordinary and the weak stand against evil. Isn't that the very purpose of our existence as Marines on these seas?" He paused, letting his gaze rest on her. "Captain Tina, I'm genuinely curious. What is the justice you uphold? Is it blindly following orders? Is it mechanically adhering to rules, even when they protect monsters? These pirates... they don't follow any rules."
Tina had no answer. The evidence was before her, clinging to her legs. What she had called recklessness had saved dozens of innocent lives. Any argument she could muster felt hollow and shameful.
She looked down at the little girl, her voice firm and gentle. "Don't be afraid, sweetheart. Sister Tina is a Marine. I will protect you. I promise."
A faint, satisfied smile touched Ian's lips. It seemed this new-generation officer's conscience wasn't completely buried by the system; the core of true justice still beat within her.
And as that thought crossed his mind, a familiar chime echoed in his consciousness—the system, registering the completion of a far greater task than mere combat.
End OF Chapter