One Piece : Brotherhood

Room of Authority, Mary Geoise

The atmosphere in the room was suffocating, the tension building with each passing second as Elder JuPeter's fist slammed onto the polished mahogany table. The echo reverberated throughout the dark, cavernous chamber, its walls adorned with the shadows of ancient power.

His eyes, usually calm and measured, now gleamed with frustration, an emotion he rarely displayed.

"What was Sengoku thinking?" JuPeter growled, the anger boiling beneath his composed exterior. "Sending Marines to escort Queen Otohime of the Ryugu Kingdom to Dressrosa? It's reckless—dangerous."

His words hung in the air, weighed down by the gravity of the situation. The other elders of the Gorosei sat in heavy silence, the flickering light from the ancient chandeliers casting long, ominous shadows across their faces.

For centuries, they had ruled the world from this sacred chamber in Mary Geoise, pulling strings from behind the scenes. Now, even their power felt tenuous in the face of the chaotic seas, especially when dealing with figures like Doflamingo and the Fishman Kingdom.

Finally, Elder Mars spoke, his tone calm but laced with hidden tension as he stroked his long, greying beard. "Perhaps it is for the best." His voice was thoughtful, though tinged with uncertainty.

"If the Marines are involved, any misstep regarding Queen Otohime in Dressrosa would divert suspicion from us. The world would point fingers at the Marines, not the World Government."

JuPeter's frown deepened, but he considered Mars' reasoning. The delicate web they had spun over centuries of manipulation required subtlety, not force. Even so, his gut told him there was something more to Doflamingo's moves—something they were missing.

"We still don't know Doflamingo's true intentions," Elder Nusjuro rumbled, his deep voice steady but alert. His eyes narrowed behind his wire-rimmed glasses, the reflection of the dim light dancing across his lenses. "Why seek an alliance with Fishman Island? Does he already know about Poseidon?"

The name Poseidon sent an icy chill through the room. Even among the Gorosei, few things carried as much weight. Poseidon—one of the Ancient Weapons, with the power to command Sea Kings—was a force capable of reshaping the world. Its mere existence had been a closely guarded secret for centuries.

"The last time we dealt with Poseidon was over four centuries ago," Nusjuro continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "She was eliminated before she could fully mature, and the lineage has been silent ever since. If a new Poseidon has been born…"

His words trailed off, but the implication was clear. For centuries, the World Government had ruled by controlling or destroying anything that threatened their authority. The Ancient Weapons were the pinnacle of such threats. If Doflamingo was after Poseidon, their grip on the world could be at risk.

Elder Saturn's brow furrowed, his fingers tapping against the edge of the ancient map spread before them. "With the knowledge Doflamingo holds, it's hard to imagine he isn't aware of Poseidon or at least suspicious of its existence. He's been gathering secrets for years—secrets even we struggle to keep buried."

The frustration was evident in his voice. Doflamingo had long been a thorn in their side, operating in the shadows yet always just beyond their reach. Worse still was the protection his brother, Rosinante, provided—a formidable shield that had made the Donquixote Family nearly untouchable.

Elder Warcury, always the pragmatist, leaned forward. "We could simply order the Ryugu Kingdom to abandon any dealings with Doflamingo. They are, after all, under the banner of the World Government. Should they refuse, we could apply pressure—severe consequences for any disobedience."

His voice was sharp, carrying the weight of someone who had often dealt with rebellion through force. But Saturn shook his head, his expression dark and unwavering.

"Fishman Island is not like the other kingdoms," Saturn replied, his voice cold and edged with old memories.

"We've tried before to manipulate their politics. Do you not remember when we instigated chaos, hoping they'd crawl to us for protection? But Whitebeard stepped in before we could finish the job. Ever since, his banner has protected Fishman Island from direct intervention. Any move against them now would risk Whitebeard's wrath."

A murmur of unease passed between the Elders at the mention of Whitebeard. Even for the Gorosei, the thought of crossing one of the Four Emperors was dangerous—foolhardy even.

Whitebeard's dominion over Fishman Island had placed it out of their reach for years to come, and to openly challenge him would invite a level of conflict they were not ready to handle.

"Whitebeard's protection is indeed a thorn in our side," Elder Nusjuro muttered, rubbing his chin.

"If we make any overt moves against Fishman Island or its royal family, it will be interpreted as a direct challenge to him. We cannot afford to provoke such a power when the balance of the world is already so fragile."

"But we can't afford to wait forever," Elder Mars interjected, his voice low but insistent. "If Doflamingo is after Poseidon or if he intends to ally with the Fishman Kingdom, we're already running out of time. The longer we delay, the stronger he becomes."

Elder Saturn's eyes darkened. "Doflamingo is untouchable as long as Rosinante is around."

The room fell silent. Rosinante—the elusive brother who had proven more dangerous than anyone anticipated.

Though once thought to be Doflamingo's weak link, he had instead become the Donquixote Family's greatest asset. His Devil Fruit power, coupled with his mastery of Haki and tactical mind, made him nearly impossible to corner.

Turning to Elder Nusjuro, Saturn's voice dropped to a whisper. "Have the arrangements been made? We need to capture him alive if possible. Imu-sama is still interested in using Rosinante as a potential fuel source for one of the Ancient Weapons."

Nusjuro nodded, though there was hesitation in his voice. "Preparations are underway, but capturing Rosinante alive may prove... difficult. If we mobilize the God's Knights—"

"Absolutely not!" Saturn snapped, cutting him off. His glare was sharp, and Nusjuro froze, realizing his mistake. Saturn's wounds from their last failure still weighed heavily on him. "The God's Knights are not an option. The last time they were involved, we barely escaped with our lives. Imu-sama made it clear that another failure would not be tolerated."

The mention of the God's Knights—a secret force even the Marines knew little about—brought a sense of dread into the room. Mobilizing them would be an act of desperation, and any failure involving them would have severe consequences.

Elder Mars, who had been silently observing, leaned forward. "So, what do you suggest? If we can't use the God's Knights and if none of us can personally intervene without triggering an all-out war, who can we send? Rosinante has grown too powerful for mere agents to handle."

Saturn's face twisted into a scowl, his mind racing for answers. Rosinante had been trained by Garp himself and now wielded powers that put him beyond even the Admirals in strength. His unique Devil Fruit abilities made it nearly impossible to catch him off-guard, and his strategic mind had shielded Doflamingo's operations from exposure for years.

"There's no simple solution," Saturn admitted, his voice low but sharp. "Doflamingo has turned into a spider at the center of a massive web, and Rosinante is the keystone. If we make one wrong move, they'll slip through our fingers, and any chance we have of using Rosinante for Imu-sama's purposes will be lost."

Elder Nusjuro sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Rosinante isn't just a powerful asset anymore—he's become the key to Doflamingo's empire. If they know even half of what we suspect about the Ancient Weapons, then this is a game we cannot afford to lose."

Mars nodded, his expression grave. "And we cannot afford to wait much longer. If Doflamingo's ambitions truly extend to Poseidon or the other weapons, then we're standing on the edge of a catastrophe."

The room fell into silence once again, each Elder contemplating their next move. The seas were growing more dangerous by the day, and Doflamingo, with his vast network of influence and secrets, had become an enigma they could no longer control. Rosinante, once a pawn, was now a kingmaker in the shadows.

Elder JuPeter's frustration was palpable as he leaned forward, his voice hard with urgency. "So, what do you propose? We may not get another chance like this. Ramen has already reached out for assistance—the entire Happo Navy is being deployed along with the Kingdom's troops. In addition, there are also Mafia forces from the West Blue, with Chinjao himself leading them. Along with the CP0 agents, surely that should be enough, don't you think?"

Elder Saturn sneered, his eyes cold as he gazed across the table. "You severely underestimate him," he said, the weight of his words sinking into the room.

"Rosinante is barely in his twenties and already holds the title of an Emperor. Do you truly believe the rest of the pirates in the Grand Line would have allowed him to keep that title as a joke? He's not some upstart; he's a force of nature, a pirate who's already making legends in the New World."

The other elders shifted uneasily in their seats, Saturn's assessment cutting through their assumptions. Rosinante's rise to power had been meteoric, but his grip on that power had proven ironclad.

Elder Nusjuro's voice broke the tense silence. "Then we mobilize the Shichibukai."

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment. Elder Mars snorted derisively. "Those good-for-nothings?" He started, ready to dismiss the idea outright, but then paused, considering. "The old Shichibukai may have been unreliable... but what about the new ones?"

The room fell into a brief, contemplative silence. The three new Warlords of the Sea were legends in their own right—overlords of the sea during the era of Rocks, each of them a powerhouse on par with the Emperors. They were not to be taken lightly.

Elder Warcury, ever cautious, furrowed his brow. "The real question is, will they comply? We cannot force their hand as easily as we did with the others. The only reason they even agreed to join the Shichibukai system was because they saw some advantage in it for themselves. I fear their motives remain hidden."

The elders knew this to be true. These three Warlords had accepted their positions, but it was a calculated risk on both sides. For the World Government, integrating them into the Shichibukai had been a gamble—one that might pay off if used correctly. But the sheer power these individuals wielded made them unpredictable, even dangerous.

Elder Nusjuro leaned forward, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "Which is precisely why we must play to their egos. Let them target Rosinante for us. We don't need to get directly involved. A subtle push in the right direction, and one of them could see Rosinante as a rival to their power or a valuable trophy. Even if they fail, we'll have our hands clean."

There was a spark of intrigue in the room. It was a clever strategy, playing pirates against pirates, all while keeping the World Government's involvement hidden. If a Shichibukai went after Rosinante, it would appear as nothing more than internal pirate conflict, leaving the elders free to act when the time was right.

Mars nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk as the plan formed in his mind.

"In that case, we can have the Marines mobilize one of the Admirals to assist Kano Country. After all, they're affiliated with us. We can't allow a pirate to openly destroy a nation under our rule, now can we?"

Elder Saturn's eyes gleamed with a predatory satisfaction. "Precisely. We bolster Kano's defenses, make it look like we're simply protecting our interests. The Admiral will focus on defending the country while one of the Warlords—perhaps even the most prideful of them—will be lured into hunting Rosinante."

Warcury, ever the pragmatist, added, "If Rosinante survives, we'll be no worse off than before. But if the Warlord succeeds, we'll have eliminated a key threat without lifting a finger ourselves."

"And if we swoop in after the battle, we may capture him alive," Elder Nusjuro noted with a chilling gleam in his eye. "Imu-sama will be pleased."

The elders exchanged glances, the weight of their decision sinking in. They had long ruled from the shadows, their power immense but unseen. Direct involvement was never their way; they moved the pieces on the board, allowing others to clash while they reaped the benefits. This time would be no different.

"We must ensure that our movements remain discreet," Saturn said, his voice low and dangerous. "If Doflamingo gets wind of this, he'll act. And Rosinante, for all his strength, will fight back like a cornered beast."

"But we can't let this opportunity slip through our fingers," JuPeter said firmly, his fist tightening.

"Rosinante, Doflamingo, Poseidon—there's too much at stake. The longer we wait, the more dangerous they become."

The elders nodded, their resolve hardened. The sea was turbulent, and threats to their power were growing with each passing day. But they had not ruled for centuries without knowing how to navigate treacherous waters. They would strike from the shadows, manipulate the strongest pirates against each other, and maintain their iron grip on the world.

The wheels were already in motion. And soon, Rosinante would either be dead—or their most dangerous asset.

"Let's make our move," Elder Saturn declared, the shadows in the chamber deepening as the elders prepared for the storm to come.

****

Uncharted Island, New World

The lab was a maze of steel and wires, filled with machines that hummed with a dark, foreboding energy. Pods lined the room, connected to a labyrinth of tubes and circuits, their contents glowing faintly in the dim light.

The liquid inside the remaining pods—an eerie, translucent purple—swirled slowly, casting an unnatural glow across the lab's cold, metallic floor.

Judge paced back and forth, his eyes darting between the remaining two occupied pods, while countless screens flashed with data, monitoring every vital sign, every fluctuation. This was no ordinary experiment; this was the future of warfare.

By his side, Perospero waited with a deep, gnawing worry etched into his face. What had once been a room filled with ten of his siblings was now down to just two—Smoothie and Katakuri.

Initially, a dozen of them had volunteered to brave this horrific experiment, one that aimed to infuse them with the raw, terrifying physical traits of their mother, Big Mom. It was a gamble to make them into true monsters, beings who could replicate her inhuman strength and resilience. The goal was clear: to become unstoppable forces, just like Mama.

But the cost had been severe.

Only two had walked out of the experiment with successful results so far, and even then, their integration with Big Mom's DNA had been partial. Cracker had endured up to 66% integration, and Snack, barely ten years old, had barely survived with 57%.

Three others had been forcefully extracted from the pods—unable to endure the excruciating pain—and two more had been crippled beyond recovery. The rest… had perished.

Now, only Smoothie and Katakuri remained, their pods still humming with life. Perospero's nerves were frayed. His mind screamed at him to pull his siblings out, to end this madness before it claimed them too. But they were close—so close.

Of all the siblings, these two had the best chances. He couldn't deny them the opportunity to walk out as true monsters, as beings who could rival even their mother.

"Beep… Beep… Beep…"

The instruments blared, a rapid, alarming cadence that echoed through the lab. Judge snapped his attention to Smoothie's pod as warning lights flashed across the console. Perospero's heart clenched in fear.

"What's happening? Tell me, Judge!" Perospero's voice cracked, his usually composed demeanor crumbling.

Across the room, Snack, the youngest of the siblings in the lab, looked up, his wide eyes filled with fear.

"Brother Cracker… will Smoothie be alright?" Despite his youth, Snack had endured the agony of the procedure himself. He knew firsthand the torture that came with each percentage of integration.

Cracker, standing rigid beside him, gripped his brother's shoulder in an attempt to calm both himself and Snack. His voice was strained, yet filled with a desperate hope. "Smoothie will be fine. She's the strongest, next to Katakuri. Stronger than me, even. If anyone can make it, it's her."

But as Cracker tried to reassure, his own eyes betrayed his worry. They had all endured unimaginable pain in those pods. The merging of Big Mom's traits into their own bodies was pure agony, a level of suffering that few could endure without breaking. Yet Smoothie had endured—up until now.

Judge, unlike the siblings who were paralyzed with fear, was deep in thought, his mind buzzing with possibilities. To him, this wasn't just about Smoothie or Katakuri surviving; it was about pushing the limits.

Every successful integration brought him one step closer to his ultimate goal. The more they succeeded, the more data he could collect, and that data was invaluable. Judge couldn't help but admire the raw power of Big Mom's genetics—her children, despite the suffering, had endured far more than most could ever dream of.

As Smoothie's pod blinked at 82% integration, Judge's mind wandered, thinking of the future. If he could refine this experiment, maybe one day he could directly experiment on Big Mom herself.

The thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. What kind of perfect soldiers could he create with her direct DNA?

"Crack…"

A loud, jarring noise interrupted his thoughts. Smoothie's pod shattered, sending purple liquid spilling across the lab floor. Her body, limp and soaked in the viscous fluid, crashed to the ground in a mess of shattered glass and wires. For a moment, the room fell silent, everyone frozen in place, staring in shock.

"Smoothie!" Perospero shouted, rushing forward along with Cracker and Snack. His heart pounded in his chest, terror gripping him as he knelt beside her. Her form lay still, her massive frame lifeless for a second that stretched into eternity.

Judge's eyes were glued to the console. Amidst the chaos, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The counter on Smoothie's pod had shown 84% just before it broke. 84% integration.

She had survived longer than most, and that was a victory in itself.

As Perospero frantically checked for signs of life, Smoothie's eyes flickered open. She inhaled sharply, her chest rising with a sudden surge of power. Her muscles bulged with newfound strength, her physique now towering even more than before. Her skin radiated an almost unnatural vitality. She had made it through—barely, but enough.

"She's alive..." Perospero muttered, half in disbelief, half in relief.

But Judge's attention had already shifted. He turned toward the last pod, where Katakuri remained. His form was calm, unnervingly serene. Unlike the others, who had screamed and writhed in agony inside the pods, Katakuri had been utterly still.

It was as if he had entered a deep, meditative state. Yet Judge knew better. He knew the pain that Katakuri must have been enduring—the torture his body was undergoing to fuse with the terrifying physicality of Big Mom.

The counter on Katakuri's pod blinked: 85%.

Judge's eyes gleamed with anticipation. What kind of monster was about to be born? Katakuri, the strongest of the Charlotte siblings, was on the verge of completing what no one else had managed. Would he be the one to fully replicate Big Mom's terrifying power, her godlike physique?

"Judge! You bastard, stop daydreaming and check on Smoothie!" Perospero's furious roar snapped Judge out of his thoughts, but he barely registered it. His eyes were locked onto Katakuri's pod, waiting for the inevitable.

*****

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