One Piece : Brotherhood

"This is all just a misunderstanding," Dragon said cautiously, his voice betraying none of the turmoil brewing within him. "But this situation is more complex than you realize."

"Complex?" I echoed, the faintest smile playing on my lips. "No, Dragon san, it's quite simple. Your people trespassed into my territory. They've attacked my subordinates. And now... you're here, watching it unfold as though you're an innocent bystander."

Dragon's haki flared subtly, a test of resolve, but I met it with a pressure so immense that it felt as though the air itself might shatter. My smile vanished, replaced by a cold, unyielding intensity.

"Let me be clear, Dragon," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "This is Donquixote territory. Every grain of sand, every whisper of wind here belongs to us. And yet, here you stand, intruding where you don't belong. So tell me... what's your excuse?"

Dragon didn't respond immediately, his mind working at lightning speed. His instinct was to deflect, to shift the conversation, but he knew better than to underestimate me.

"My men acted without orders," he finally said, his tone steady. "I came to retrieve them before this escalated further."

I raised an eyebrow, feigning mild surprise. "Oh? So this wasn't sanctioned by the great Revolutionary Army? How... embarrassing." My gaze bore into him, unrelenting.

"And yet, here we are. Your people fighting mine. My island in chaos. Tell me, Dragon... if this wasn't your plan, why are you here?"

Dragon's silence spoke volumes. His haki remained steady, his resolve unbroken, but he was acutely aware of the precariousness of his position. Around us, the sounds of battle raged on, but the focus had shifted entirely.

"You're not going to let this matter slide, are you?" Dragon questioned, his voice heavy with exasperation. A headache visibly crept over his features, his hand briefly rubbing his temple. He knew me too well. After all, I'd picked up quite a few habits from Garp—most of them the less-than-desirable ones.

Suddenly, without warning, Dragon unleashed his Haki, the oppressive aura of his will crashing outward as he sought to gain the upper hand. The air thickened under the weight of his Conqueror's Haki, and the ground trembled slightly beneath us.

Yet, before his influence could fully settle, my own Haki surged in retaliation, roaring out with the force of a tempest. The sheer ferocity of my will outpaced his, suppressing everything around us.

Further out, the ongoing skirmishes halted as fighters crumbled under the overwhelming pressure. The oppressive weight wasn't even directed at anyone in particular—it was residual, unintended, but more than sufficient to silence the chaos.

Issho, Smoker, and Lucci, who had been locked in their respective battles, immediately disengaged, though their bodies remained tense, ready to resume at a moment's notice. Livia, breathing heavily and clutching her side, stumbled back. Her battered and bruised form betrayed just how fierce the confrontation had been moments earlier.

"So, this is what the great Revolutionary Army resorts to now? Kidnapping children?" I said, my voice casual but laced with an icy undertone that sent chills down spines. My gaze shifted, locking onto the cloaked figure who had been fighting Issho. Without looking away, I motioned toward the beach.

"Why don't you bring him over? Let's have a chat and see how we can resolve this like civilized people. And don't even think you're leaving this island without paying the price."

The tension in the air sharpened. Karasu, who had been battling Smoker, growled in frustration at my tone. Fury burned in his eyes as he launched himself toward me in a ferocious charge, his movements fueled by rage.

But before he could take more than a few steps, the cloaked figure intercepted him with terrifying precision. In an instant, Karasu found himself slammed into the sandy beach, pinned down effortlessly.

"You're no match for him…" the figure murmured, his voice low but carrying an edge of warning as he restrained Karasu. "Don't be reckless."

I chuckled, glancing over my shoulder at the scuffle. The sound was casual, almost dismissive, but it carried a sharp undertone. "Oh, I wouldn't have minded shedding some blood if he'd tried," I mused, my tone light but my intent deadly clear.

Dragon's jaw tightened as he assessed the situation. The cloaked figure stood tall, his presence commanding, even as his hood obscured his face. Dragon's voice broke the silence. "You've got a sharp tongue, but even sharper eyes, I see." His gaze flickered to Karasu, who was still seething under the stranger's grip.

I smiled faintly, the corners of my mouth curling in a way that only deepened Dragon's unease.

"Oh, Dragon-san, don't look so shocked. The Revolutionary Army is a cage full of canaries—most just don't know when to stop chirping. Karasu here? He's a hotheaded one. He might make a decent North Army Commander, but only if he learns to keep his temper in check."

Dragon's eyes narrowed in disbelief. His lips parted slightly as if to question me, but no words came. I could see it—the realization dawning. The names of the prospective commanders hadn't been finalized. Only he and Livia knew of the potential appointments. Yet, here I was, laying it all bare as if I'd been sitting in the same strategy meetings.

Before Dragon could respond, the cloaked figure pulled back his hood, revealing a face that left the battlefield breathless.

It was Zephyr.

The man once heralded as the "Black Arm," the former Admiral of the Marines. The same Zephyr who had been presumed dead for years. His scarred visage bore the weight of a lifetime of battles, his eyes steely and filled with purpose. The pitch-black prosthetic arm made of seastone gleamed in the sunlight, a chilling reminder of the power he still wielded.

The waves lapped lazily at the shore as Dragon, Zephyr-sensei, and I found ourselves near the beach, the tension from earlier simmering but not fully dissipated. The salty breeze carried a strange mix of calm and foreboding, but neither of my companions seemed interested in taking in the scenery.

"So," I began, folding my arms as I leaned casually against a driftwood log, "this is what it's all about? You wanted to take Reiju back home to her mother?" My tone grew sharper, edged with disappointment. "But, Zephyr-sensei, did you stop for even a second to ask what the little girl wants? What you guys tried to pull off wasn't a noble rescue—it was plain old abduction."

Zephyr turned to face me, his mechanical arm humming faintly as he moved. The once-mighty Admiral, now a living testament to the horrors of war, was a shadow of his former self. More than half his body was replaced with bionic constructs, each piece of metal and wiring a cruel reminder of battles fought and lost. Yet, his presence was no less commanding.

His stern gaze, still as sharp as a blade, bore into me with the weight of decades of unshakable convictions.

"A pirate's den," he began in a tone as firm as the waves breaking at our feet, "is no place for a young girl to grow up. She belongs with her mother, in a proper home, away from your kind. She's far too young to make an informed decision about her life at this age."

I raised an eyebrow, giving a slow, deliberate clap that made Dragon pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Bravo, Zephyr-sensei. Truly, a masterpiece of righteous indignation. But let me ask you this—if you're so concerned about her well-being, why are you only targeting me? What about the countless kids living in worse conditions out there? Oh, wait," I tilted my head mockingly, "I forgot. Reiju just happens to be conveniently within reach of your little crusade."

Zephyr bristled, but to his credit, he didn't explode in anger. Instead, he gave me a look that screamed you're testing my patience, brat.

Dragon sighed, rubbing his temples. "Get to the point already."

"Fine, fine," I said, waving a hand in mock surrender. "How about this? Instead of dragging Reiju back to her mother—who, let's be honest, hasn't exactly won any awards for Parent of the Year—why don't you send her whole family here? I'll even throw in a warm welcome! They can live under my care. I'm sure we can provide a better environment for them than some dreary, isolated island hiding from the world's prying eyes."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Both Dragon and Zephyr turned to look at me, their expressions so utterly dumbfounded that I almost burst out laughing. Dragon's left eye twitched, his stoic mask cracking just enough to reveal a mix of disbelief and exasperation. Zephyr, on the other hand, gave me a look so incredulous it could've made an Ancient Weapon blush.

"You're serious?" Dragon finally asked, his voice flat, though I could tell he was suppressing the urge to throttle me. "You want what? To invite the last of the Vinsmokes—one of the most infamous families in the North Blue, whose very kingdom your brother burned to the ground—into your little pirate haven? And you think that's a good idea?"

"Why not?" I replied, a shameless grin spreading across my face. "Think about it. The kids had no hand in what Judge did. At least my brother and I aren't petty enough to hold children accountable for the sins of their father. If we were, Reiju would never have been considered one of our own."

"And let's be real here—do you honestly believe they'd have a better future with you Revolutionaries?" I continued, my tone shifting slightly, less mocking and more direct.

"Do you think the world you're trying to create will have a place for them? A family of genetically modified, engineered warriors, forever shadowed by their father's crimes? Or do you expect them to stay hidden, like relics of a past everyone's too afraid to confront?"

I stepped forward, planting my feet firmly in the sand as I met their gazes. "You're asking to tear apart the only stability Reiju's ever had. For what? Some idealistic notion of what's 'best for her'? Did it ever cross your minds to ask what she wants? Or is her agency just a casualty of your plans, just like everything else you Revolutionaries touch?"

Dragon's brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a tight line, but he didn't interrupt. Zephyr's gaze remained sharp, though his expression betrayed a flicker of contemplation, like he hadn't expected the conversation to go this way.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Look, I'm not saying we're saints. Hell, we're pirates—probably the furthest thing from it. But we don't abandon our own. We don't judge someone for their bloodline or use them as pawns for some greater agenda. Reiju's not just a soldier or a bargaining chip to us. She's family. And family means standing by someone, even when the rest of the world turns its back."

Zephyr's mechanical hand twitched, a faint whirring sound accompanying the movement as he stared at me. His face, though hardened by years of war and loss, was a mask of suppressed disbelief. "You're out of your mind, boy," he said, his voice sharp and unwavering.

"Do you even hear yourself? You want to raise a girl amidst people who toy with life and death every single day. And you have the audacity to call that a 'safe environment' for a child like Reiju?"

I shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Zephyr-sensei. Out of our two parties, I'd argue that being a pirate is much safer than being a revolutionary. Don't you think? At least we live above the surface. You Revolutionaries, though? You're like shadows in the dark, hiding in the cracks of the world. Always running, always hunted. Tell me—how exactly is that better for her?"

Dragon's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "We fight for a world where she won't have to hide."

"Someday, Dragon-san," I shot back, the grin fading from my face. "Someday. But today? You live in the shadows. And you know as well as I do that your war will only drag on for years, decades even. Don't fool yourself into thinking Reiju would be safer in that life. No, the real question is—who are you fighting for? Reiju's happiness, or your own agenda?"

The silence that followed was heavy, the tension between us like a drawn bowstring. Even the waves seemed quieter, as if the sea itself was listening.

I exhaled slowly, letting my words sink in before continuing, my voice calm but firm. "By the way, why am I even trying to justify all this to you? If Reiju wants to leave, I won't stop her. I'm not some tyrant keeping her chained to my side. But," I paused, my tone dropping lower, sharper, "if anyone—and I mean anyone—tries to take her away by force…"

I stepped closer, my gaze boring into Dragon's. The temperature seemed to drop as the weight of my words hung in the air.

"I swear I will burn the entire Revolutionary Army to the ground."

Zephyr stiffened, his mechanical hand clenching instinctively. Even Dragon's usually stoic expression cracked ever so slightly, his eyes widening before narrowing again in suspicion. He was no fool—he knew the difference between a threat and a promise, and I didn't make empty promises.

"You think that's wise, boy?" Zephyr's voice cut through the air, his tone low and warning. "You think you can take on the Revolutionaries and come out unscathed?"

"I think," I replied, my voice unwavering, "that you don't want to test me on that. Do you, Dragon-san?" I turned my gaze back to him, letting the full force of my conviction shine through.

"You already suspect it, don't you? That I know more than I let on. Maybe I already know where you're hiding, where your bases are. Maybe I've been keeping that knowledge to myself because I respect what you're trying to do. But make no mistake—if you force my hand, I'll erase every trace of your organization from the world."

Dragon's eyes narrowed further, his silence speaking volumes. He wasn't just worried—I could see the gears turning in his mind. He knew I wasn't bluffing, and worse, he couldn't be sure how much I already knew. The mere possibility was enough to unsettle him.

Zephyr took a step forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow in the sand. "You'd risk the lives of everyone under your flag? Your crew, your allies? All for one girl?"

I turned to face him fully, my expression hardening. "For family? I'd risk it all, Sensei. And that's something I don't think you'll ever understand."

Zephyr's mechanical arm flexed slightly, the tension visible even in his cybernetic frame. Dragon finally broke the silence, his voice quiet but laced with warning. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"Life's a dangerous game, Dragon-san," I replied, smirking faintly. "But let me make one thing clear. Reiju isn't a pawn in anyone's game—not yours, not mine. The moment you try to treat her as one is the moment you'll find out just how dangerous I can be."

Dragon exhaled sharply, his shoulders dropping slightly as he exchanged a look with Zephyr. Whatever unspoken conversation passed between them, it was clear they were weighing their options carefully.

"You're impossible," Dragon finally muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But this isn't over until we hear it from the girl directly."

"It never is," I replied, turning away to look at the sea. "Now, unless you've got anything else to add, I suggest we leave the final decision at little Reiju's hands. You know where I stand. And you know what happens if you cross me."

Dragon let out a groan, muttering something under his breath about this being a colossal waste of his time. Zephyr, however, seemed more amused than angry now. He crossed his arms, his mechanical appendages gleaming in the sunlight. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. Stupidity too, but guts nonetheless."

"Why, thank you, Sensei. High praise coming from you." I bowed slightly, grinning.

Dragon threw his hands up in frustration. "You're impossible. Do you even hear yourself?"

"Loud and clear, Dragon-san," I replied, unfazed. "The way I see it, this isn't about Reiju's safety—it's about control. Zephyr-sensei, you've joined the Revolutionaries. Your old Marine ideals have shifted, sure, but deep down, you're still clinging to that 'order over chaos' mantra. And Dragon…" I pointed at him, smirking.

"You're no different. You both want to save the world, but you can't see the people in front of you. Reiju isn't just a pawn in your little revolution or my pirate life. She's her own person, and maybe—just maybe—it's time someone started treating her like it."

Zephyr's jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. Dragon's gaze softened ever so slightly, though he still looked like he wanted to strangle me.

On the other side of the beach, Livia was locked in a battle of wills with Reiju. The girl's stubborn resolve was like a fortress, unyielding and impenetrable. Livia clenched her fists by her sides, doing her best to maintain composure.

She wanted—no, needed—to convince this little girl to return with her. But every word out of Reiju's mouth only strengthened Livia's growing frustration.

The boy standing a few feet away didn't make things any easier. His eyes followed her every move like a predator watching prey, calculating, poised to pounce at the first sign of aggression. If she made a single misstep, she knew this delicate exchange would escalate faster than wildfire spreading through a forest of dry tinder.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Livia softened her tone. "Reiju, don't you want to see your siblings? Don't you want to be with your family again?"

Reiju, ever calm and composed despite her youth, crossed her arms and stared up at Livia with unwavering determination.

"Thank you for coming all this way, for taking such a risk to try and help me. But I'm not in need of help. I do want to see my mother and brothers. I miss them terribly. But…" She paused, her voice steady but resolute.

"…I can't leave my family behind. This is my family now. They took me in when no one else would. They've stood by me, and I have no intention of parting with them."

Livia frowned, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface, but before she could say anything, Reiju continued.

"As for my mother…" Reiju's voice softened, a flicker of longing breaking through her resolve. "…tell her that I miss her. And tell her that sooner or later, I'll come find her. For now, though, I'm happy knowing she and my brothers are safe. That's enough for me."

Livia opened her mouth, struggling for the right words, but then it came—the voice she hadn't heard in years.

"So, you made it after all," I said, stepping into view, my presence as sudden and sharp as a blade drawn in the quiet. "I never expected you to be a part of the Revolutionaries. And no less the second-in-command under Dragon-san himself."

Livia stiffened, her eyes widening as she turned to face me. She knew that voice, and she knew that face. After joining the Revolutionaries, she had come to learn of my identity, piecing together the truth bit by bit. But never in her wildest dreams had she expected to meet her savior under circumstances like this.

It had matured, grown deeper and steadier, but it was unmistakable. For a moment, she forgot where she was, forgot the weight of her mission. That voice pulled her back to a time she thought she had buried, a time when the world had nearly swallowed her whole.

"Y-you…" she stammered, her usually confident composure cracking.

I chuckled softly, my hands in my pockets as I closed the distance between us. "What's wrong, Livia? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Her mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of memories she'd tried so hard to suppress. She remembered the day vividly—the day she had been ready to end it all.

The harsh world had crushed her spirit, leaving her standing on the edge of despair, ready to throw herself into oblivion. The boy who had found her wasn't a savior dressed in shining armor. No, he was just a scrappy kid, wild-eyed and brash.

"You…" Livia whispered, the memories rushing back like a flood. "I owe everything to you."

"Everything, huh?" I said, tilting my head slightly, my tone light but my eyes sharp. "I wouldn't go that far. All I did was give you a little nudge. You're the one who chose to keep walking."

Livia's breath hitched as the memory played out in her mind—the boy, a little marine, tossing her a Devil Fruit, casually, as if it were a loaf of bread and not a treasure of immeasurable power.

"Eat it," I had said back then, my shadow looming over her crumpled, ravaged form on the blood-soaked ground. Crimson streaks of her tormentors' lifeblood stained the pristine white of my coat, a stark contrast to the chaos around us.

My voice was cold, almost detached, as I extended the Devil Fruit toward her. "You want strength, don't you? You want a way out of this hellhole? Here's your chance. Take it or leave it."

She had barely been able to lift her head, her broken body trembling as much from exhaustion as from fear. Her hands had been bloodied, her spirit crushed, but even in her misery, she could see the intensity in my eyes—a fiery determination that seemed unshakable.

She remembered the fruit's taste, vile and bitter, making her stomach churn the moment it touched her tongue. It was the taste of change, of power, and her body had reacted almost immediately. Energy had coursed through her veins like molten fire, transforming her from a helpless victim into something stronger, something more.

But more than the fruit's power, it was my words that had seared themselves into her soul, burning brighter than any flame.

"The world's cruel," I had said, standing up and brushing the dirt from my pants as if the carnage around us was inconsequential. My voice was calm, almost indifferent, yet it carried an edge sharp enough to cut through despair. "You can either let it crush you, or you can fight back. Your choice."

Those words had been a lifeline, a spark in the darkness that had reignited her will to live. In that moment, I wasn't just a savior; I was a force of nature, someone who refused to let the world dictate his fate—and had given her the same opportunity.

Now, standing before the same boy—no, the man—Livia felt a storm of emotions swirling within her. Gratitude, awe, admiration, and something closer to fear all fought for dominance.

She had risen from the ashes of her past to become a powerful figure in the Revolutionary Army, but seeing me now brought her back to that moment of weakness, that turning point in her life.

"Livia," I said, my voice pulling her back to the present. It was sharper now, carrying the weight of someone who had seen the world's worst and refused to bend. "You've come a long way since then. You've carved out your own path. But don't think for a second that your title or rank means anything to me."

I stepped closer, my gaze piercing and unrelenting. "You're standing here because of choices you made back then. Choices that were yours to make. And that's all I'm giving Reiju—the freedom to make her own choices."

Livia's throat tightened as she absorbed my words. Her mind flashed back to that broken girl she had once been, crumpled in the dirt with nothing but despair. Back then, I had offered her a choice, not salvation. A path, not a guarantee. And now, I was offering the same to Reiju.

In that moment, she realized the irony. She, who had risen from the depths because of my actions, now stood on the opposite side of an argument where I had drawn an unshakable line. And yet, she couldn't deny the truth in my words.

"I..." she began, her voice faltering. But as she looked into my eyes, the strength in her resolve wavered, and all she could do was lower her gaze.