The stifling heat of Starvation Hell clung to the stone walls like a physical weight. Within the cramped confines of the empty cell, the silence was absolute save for the crackle of distant subterranean flames rising from Level 4.
Giovanni stood motionless before the vacant cot. His breathing came in shallow, controlled gasps, every expansion of his chest pulling sharply against his cracked ribs.
The cell was stripped bare, but it was far from abandoned. Fresh, jagged scrape marks crossed the stone floor where heavy restraints had recently been dragged across the flags. A pair of open Seastone cuffs still swung from the wall bracket, their iron joints gleaming with clean oil.
A rasping voice came through the bars of the neighboring cell.
"They took him last night."
Giovanni turned. An emaciated prisoner watched him from the dark.
"Four guards," the inmate muttered, his voice dry. "One supervisor. The chained man walked out with them."
"Where?" Giovanni demanded, stepping closer to the partition.
"Didn't hear."
"Who was he?"
The prisoner shrugged listlessly. "Never told me his name."
Giovanni stepped back into the open cell as Shanks walked over from the corridor. Shanks's upper right arm was still slick with fresh blood from his reopened gash, but his gaze swept the enclosure with methodical precision.
"They moved him," Shanks said quietly.
Giovanni reached out with his left hand, his fingers brushing the raw, empty screw-holes where the prisoner identification board had recently been removed from the masonry. There were no layers of dust, no aged rust, only powdered grey stone settling from recent toolwork.
"The transfer wasn't months ago," Giovanni said, his voice hard. "Look at the floor. The dust hasn't even settled into the cracks."
"Which means someone knew we were coming, or the timing shifted," Shanks said, surveying the corridor outside.
"A trap?" Giovanni snapped. "Did they compromise us before we even hit the Calm Belt?"
"Maybe," Shanks said. "But we don't know that. Renji was moved before the alarm, and Sengoku was already inside when we attacked. That's all we've proved. Nothing we've seen says that order had anything to do with us."
Footsteps echoed sharply down the stone passageway. Robin, Hongo, and Limejuice emerged from the stair junction, carrying confiscated logbooks and requisition ledgers retrieved from the sub-station guardhouse.
"The records confirm the transfer date," Robin said, walking into the cell and dropping the ledgers onto the cot. She flipped open the primary intake roster, her fingers tracing the ink entries. "Renji's Level 3 intake entry matches the classification we were given. But this movement slip was added afterward."
Robin scanned the order. "Restricted transfer. Level 6. Issued last night." Her finger stopped at the authorization line. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku."
Robin turned the slip over. "Copy 6-C."
Giovanni looked at her.
She opened the key-issue ledger beside it and tapped the matching number. "Same custody code. The Seastone key set went with the supervisor who escorted him downstairs."
"So we find the supervisor," Giovanni said.
"And we confirm he actually arrived there," Hongo added, tossing a bundle of loose transfer chits onto the cot. "The supervisor's log lists the receiving block as Level 6. Absolute isolation."
"Level 6," Giovanni repeated. They hadn't missed his father by weeks or days. They had missed him by hours. Pushed down into the deepest, most secure abyss of the fortress while the Fleet Admiral himself happened to be inside.
"Our information didn't fail," Shanks said, gripping the hilt of Gryphon. "It expired. If Sengoku ordered it last night, Renji is still down there. He hasn't been transferred out of the prison."
"The service shaft beyond this block feeds into the Level 4 route and the Level 5 transit lifts," Limejuice noted, tapping a map sheet. "If we move now—"
Before Limejuice could finish, a sharp, metallic clang echoed from the stairwell above, followed immediately by the sound of heavy iron bars being violently rattled.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
A cold, mocking voice drifted down the corridor, dripping with malicious amusement.
"Well, well. The Red-Haired Pirates breaking bread in the lower hells. I wondered what all the noise upstairs was about."
Shanks's expression hardened instantly. Giovanni's hand dropped to the hilt of Ace.
From the shadows of the stair bridge spanning the descending service shaft, a tall, gaunt figure stepped into the flickering torchlight. He wore the standard dark uniform of an Impel Down jailer, a dark jailer's cap sitting low over his brow. A long, wickedly curved nodachi hung at his hip, its metal guard stained with a dull, dark crimson.
Shiryu, the Head Jailer of Impel Down.
"You're a long way from your post, Head Jailer," Shanks said, stepping out of the cell and planting his boots firmly on the stone flooring.
"Cell block duty grew dreadfully dull," Shiryu replied, drawing the heavy nodachi half an inch from its scabbard with a slow, grating hiss. "And then I heard the sound of real fighting upstairs. Sengoku is currently rearranging the intake hall, which leaves the lower corridors entirely to me."
Shiryu didn't charge. Instead, with casual cruelty, he stepped to the side of the stone bridge and slammed the pommel of his sword against the iron lever of an adjacent work cage set directly into the cliff wall.
The cage door flew open with a screech. Inside, three gaunt prisoners assigned to the work detail cowered in terror, staring up at the towering jailer.
"Move," Shiryu hissed, driving his boot into the nearest prisoner's back and sending him stumbling out onto the narrow, unprotected ledge overhanging the central drop. "Let's see if your precious captain decides to catch them, or if he watches them fall while you try to push past."
"Bastard," Giovanni snarled, taking a sharp step forward. A blinding stab of pain ripped through his cracked ribs, forcing him to halt and press his left hand against his side, his breath hitching in his throat.
"Stay back, Gio!" Shanks commanded, his gaze never leaving Shiryu's blade. "He's trying to split our focus."
"Precisely." Shiryu smiled, his teeth flashing in the dim light. He raised his nodachi, pointing the tip directly toward the terrified workers who were now paralyzed on the narrow ledge. "You want down to Level 6? You'll have to climb over them, or through me."
As Shanks stepped deliberately into Shiryu's cutting lane, Robin immediately sprouted multiple arms along the stone wall behind the ledge, wrapping gentle but unbreakable grips around the prisoners' shoulders and hauling them backward out of Shiryu's reach, while Hongo and Limejuice covered the extraction point.
The cracked landing beneath Giovanni shifted under the sudden weight of the shift. Gritting his teeth against the fire in his ribs, Giovanni planted his boots, caught a buckling iron support with his left hand, and forced it back into place. The platform stopped sinking, maintaining a stable exit path for the rescue team.
Shanks walked forward slowly, his boots clicking against the stone bridge. He stopped ten paces from the jailer, his blood-soaked right arm hanging loosely at his side, Gryphon clearing its scabbard with a crisp, steady ring.
"Your fight isn't with them, Shiryu," Shanks said, his Haki beginning to roll off his frame in a dense, tangible wave that made the surrounding air distort.
"Everyone's fight is with me today, Red-Hair," Shiryu grinned, stepping fully onto the narrow stair bridge.
Shiryu lunged. The nodachi flashed like a streak of black lightning, aimed straight for Shanks's throat.
CLANG!
Gryphon intercepted the strike inches from its mark, the sheer concussive force of the clash shattering the stone railing beside them and sending dust cascading down into the dark service shaft below.
"Keep the route open, Gio!" Shanks shouted over the grinding shriek of locked steel.
"I've got it!" Giovanni answered, standing firm at the landing as the first blows of the duel hammered against the bridge above.
---
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