One piece: Black Cat

Author's Note: Sorry, this chapter is shorter than usual.

———

Two weeks had passed since our unexpected confrontation with Gecko Moria, and the weight of that battle still lingered in the salt-tinged air around our temporary base.

Once the Marines had recovered enough strength to endure the voyage back, they prepared to return to the island that had served as their sanctuary. At first, I assumed Kuzan would escort them personally, but then reality struck me—he had arrived by bicycle, freezing the ocean beneath his wheels. There was no ship capable of transporting so many people. This had been a covert operation from the start.

The thought gnawed at me. If they're moving so stealthily, whatever's happening must be more serious than I realized.

Kuzan returned to district headquarters, his shoulders heavy with the burden of reports he'd need to file about the battle with Moria. He'd have to account for every rescued Marine, every decision made in those chaotic moments. After that, he mentioned having to return to Mariejois immediately—a detail that made my stomach clench with unease.

"Well then, take good care of the Marines," he said with that casual tone of his.

I stared at him, incredulous. Wasn't it strange for a Marine officer to leave his subordinates in the care of pirates? Even in these unusual circumstances, it felt like a betrayal of everything the Marines supposedly stood for.

During our search of the area, we'd discovered a ship that appeared to belong to the Family. The rescued Marines were loaded aboard, and we set sail, planning to wait at the temporary base until their departure for the ceremony. The cover story was already taking shape in my mind.

"A group of recruits lost at sea during training, working together to survive harsh conditions and making it to district headquarters just in time for the memorial ceremony honoring their supposed accident—the miracle Marines," I mused aloud.

Daz glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "You think it's too clichéd?"

"I don't dislike the story itself," he replied after a moment's consideration.

•~•

The letter I'd sent to Sengoku along with the nautical chart contained two crucial points that could determine the fate of everyone involved.

First, I warned about Marines who might lose control when they learned the truth. From my knowledge, Garp was the most likely candidate for an explosive reaction, though Sakazuki's volcanic temper posed its own risks. They needed to keep such volatile personalities in check.

Second, we desperately needed a cover story for this incident. Bringing back Marines presumed dead required careful orchestration, especially since this was happening in West Blue. A different sea would have demanded an entirely different strategy.

It seemed similar incidents had occurred in other waters. Through Kuzan, I received letters of gratitude from both Sengoku and, to my surprise, Tsuru. Her elegant handwriting conveyed a depth of emotion I hadn't expected from the strategic mastermind.

But it was Zephyr's letter that truly shook me. Page after page of barely contained fury toward the Celestial Dragons, mixed with overwhelming joy that Marines had been saved. The raw emotion bleeding through his words was genuinely frightening in its intensity.

Who exactly is this man? Kuzan had mentioned him as his former instructor, which explained the passionate investment in his students' welfare. As someone who had trained countless recruits, the loss of any Marine under his guidance must have felt like a personal failure.

I crafted careful replies to each correspondent, including updates on the Marines' condition and details about the young recruit who'd sworn to become an exemplary Marine. I handed these letters to Kuzan, hoping they might temper some of the heated emotions my actions had stirred.

The last thing we needed was for the world to descend into chaos because of our intervention.

"Fortunately, we don't have a pirate flag yet," I observed, watching the Marines train on the beach. "We can approach quietly—though 'sneaking up' sounds rather underhanded when you say it aloud."

"That's true," Daz agreed, his voice carrying that familiar pragmatic tone.

•~•

On the sandy shore, Marines paired off for training with wooden practice swords, their movements growing more confident with each passing day. The clash of wood against wood created a rhythmic percussion that had become the soundtrack of our temporary home.

Perona and Robin sat near the crackling campfire, its orange flames dancing in the evening breeze. A kettle hung above the fire, steam curling upward—Perona's inevitable request for hot chocolate, no doubt.

"Are you sad to be leaving?" I asked Daz, noting how he watched the training Marines with an expression I couldn't quite read.

He'd spent considerable time training with these recruits, forging bonds that went beyond simple instruction.

"They gave me a rare experience," he said, his voice thoughtful.

"The training?"

"That's part of it, but using subordinates in battle was entirely new territory for me."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "It must have been frustrating."

"Bad for the heart," he admitted with characteristic understatement.

With Daz's overwhelming strength, charging in alone had always been his preferred method. Those zombies wouldn't have stood a chance against a solo assault. However, when you have people to protect and face multiple enemies, effective leadership becomes essential. You need to deploy your subordinates strategically, maximizing their strengths while minimizing their exposure to danger.

The typical pirate approach of leaving everything to individual ability wouldn't work in situations like this, I mused. But that philosophy has never suited me anyway.

If Daz could develop these leadership skills, it would fundamentally change the nature of any crew we might form in the future.

"What did you actually think of the experience?" I pressed.

"Having a fighter who couldn't be broken made all the difference," he said, his gaze distant. "If I ever have subordinates again, I want to train them with that foundation in mind."

The memory of his injury during the battle flashed through my mind—that moment when he'd collapsed, and I'd been too focused on preventing Moria from making any desperate moves to pay proper attention. The wounded recruit had looked so apologetic to his comrades, as if his injury was somehow a personal failing rather than an inevitable consequence of combat.

That girl over there, currently defending against two attackers, had been part of that moment of vulnerability.

"Even if I train them now, I'll just be creating more formidable opponents for the future," Daz continued.

"Even with additional training, they'd be no match for either the captain or me," he added with a slight smile.

"Well, that makes sense," I laughed, appreciating his confidence.

Another two weeks passed before we finally set sail, the morning sun painting the ocean in shades of gold and amber.

We departed with two ships: my original vessel carried the Marines from our encounter with Bege, while the second ship housed those rescued from Moria's nightmare realm. As we approached the district headquarters, the sight that greeted us made my blood run cold.

Naval ships stretched across the horizon in perfect formation, their cannons gleaming in the sunlight. But something was fundamentally wrong with the scene.

Why are they all facing toward us?

If this were truly a ceremony, the ships should be oriented toward the headquarters, not arranged in what looked suspiciously like a battle formation.

"You're the pirate Kuro the Slasher! I know you're on that ship!" The voice boomed across the water through a Den Den Mushi, filled with righteous fury.

I didn't recognize the speaker. Where were Sengoku and Kuzan? Even Sakazuki would have been preferable to this unknown quantity.

"And your sins will be accounted for! You are a great sinner—"

Isn't calling a pirate a sinner somewhat redundant? I thought wryly. In a sense, my very existence could be described as sinful.

But then came the words that made my heart stop.

"The fact that she is Nico Robin has been thoroughly investigated!"

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Everything we'd worked for, all the careful planning and cover stories, crumbled in an instant. Someone had discovered Robin's identity, and now the full weight of the World Government's fury was bearing down on us.

"Hand over the Demon of Ohara, Kuro the Slasher! Do that, and I'll let you off easy this time!"

"Refuse, and I'll sink you and your ship!"

"Even if Marines are aboard!"

The final declaration hit like a physical blow. They were willing to sacrifice the very Marines we'd risked everything to save, all to capture one woman whose only crime was surviving a genocide.

As if in response to my mounting rage, a terrible sound began to build in my throat—a sound that had nothing human about it.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEAM!!!

———

[Power stones and reviews please]

Support link: www.patr eon.com/Well_being

[10 Advanced Chs][7 Chapters/week]