—Broadcast (Year 1526)—
Although Hoshigaki Kisame and Jinbe belonged to the same race, their paths had diverged so completely that one now imprisoned the other. Still Water Prison offered no comfort to its inhabitants—the slow erosion of freedom proved more painful than any physical torture. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, and time became a weapon that ground down even the strongest wills.
Domino took the initiative to guide Admiral Kisame through the facility's labyrinthine corridors. The journey to the second-floor detention wing required approximately thirty minutes of walking, though the route felt longer due to the oppressive atmosphere permeating every corridor. Security checkpoints appeared at regular intervals, each requiring biometric verification before allowing passage deeper into the prison's heart.
Finally, they arrived at the independent reception room designated for this meeting. Every floor of Still Water Prison maintained such spaces—neutral ground where prisoners could receive authorized visitors without compromising institutional security. The design deliberately avoided the traditional barrier of bars or reinforced glass separating inmates from guests. Such theatrical elements served no purpose when the prison itself rendered escape impossible.
Sea Knight Jinbe had been waiting inside for some time, his patience worn thin by anticipation and dread in equal measure. Domino opened the reception room door from the outside, stepping aside to allow Admiral Kisame entry. Her professional expression revealed nothing of her thoughts.
The prison warden possessed no interest in eavesdropping on their conversation directly. Recording equipment built into the reception room's walls would capture every word, every gesture, every meaningful silence for later review if necessary. She could access the footage at her leisure, studying the interaction with fresh perspective after the emotional immediacy faded.
As for what should be said and what should remain unspoken—Admiral Kisame could weigh those decisions himself. Domino had learned long ago that excessive concern for matters beyond her authority caused nothing but stress. Worrying created wrinkles, and she had no intention of sacrificing her appearance for administrative curiosity.
The door closed with a heavy metallic click, sealing the two fish-men in private conversation.
Kisame's first sight of his fellow tribesman shocked him despite mental preparation. The blue-skinned fish-man had become unrecognizably emaciated, his once-robust frame wasted to skin and bone. Life in Still Water Prison had proven far more difficult than either of them imagined when Kisame delivered him here a year ago.
"Kisame," Jinbe's voice emerged rough from disuse, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "We haven't seen each other for almost a year. I was genuinely worried you wouldn't recognize me in this condition."
Resentment colored the Sea Knight's words—not because his former comrade had imprisoned him, but because Admiral Kisame had taken an entire year to visit. The delay created profound imbalance in Jinbe's mind, feeding the isolation that gnawed at prisoners' sanity more effectively than any torture device.
They had agreed to meet regularly when Kisame first escorted him to Still Water Prison. Yet Hoshigaki Kisame had broken that promise repeatedly, each postponed visit adding another layer of abandonment to Jinbe's psychological burden. The former Shichibukai desperately needed information from the outside world—he wanted to know what happened to Fish-Man Island after Queen Otohime's miraculous resurrection, whether circumstances were developing positively or spiraling toward catastrophe.
The uncertainty proved maddening. Cut off from all news, Jinbe could only imagine scenarios ranging from utopian to apocalyptic, with no way to determine which reflected reality.
Hoshigaki Kisame didn't waste time with apologies or pleasantries. He crossed the room and sat directly beside Jinbe, the casual familiarity of the gesture speaking to their shared history more eloquently than words. From inside his coat, the Admiral produced several bottles wrapped in protective cloth—premium sake that clinked softly against each other.
He selected one bottle and offered it to his imprisoned kinsman with both hands, a gesture of respect that transcended their current roles as captor and captive.
Jinbe's eyes widened at the sight of the exquisite bottle, its craftsmanship obvious even through the cloth wrapping. In this miserable place, he'd consumed nothing except water for the past twelve months. While he'd never been particularly fond of alcohol before imprisonment, going an entire year without a single drop made him realize how much he missed the taste, the warmth, the brief illusion of normalcy it provided.
The Sea Knight couldn't restrain himself. He bit through the bottle's seal with shark-like teeth and began drinking in great gulps, barely pausing to breathe. The rich flavor of premium sake flooding his dry stomach created an almost transcendent sensation of relief. For a few precious seconds, he forgot where he was, lost in simple physical pleasure.
"It's really refreshing," Jinbe gasped between swallows, his voice thick with emotion. "Wine is truly a gift from the gods."
"I recommend drinking slowly," Kisame cautioned, though fondness warmed his tone. "The sake I brought you is distilled from a variety of premium grains by the New Marine's master brewers. It's reserved exclusively for high-ranking officers. Even as an Admiral, I can only requisition five bottles per year through my special allocation."
After delivering this warning, Hoshigaki Kisame placed the two remaining bottles on the table between them. The gesture's generosity wasn't lost on Jinbe—such rare treasures represented significant sacrifice, yet the Admiral parted with them without hesitation.
Jinbe forced himself to lower the bottle, savoring the lingering taste rather than gulping mindlessly. His hands trembled slightly as he secured the two unopened bottles in his tattered prison uniform. Compared to the Admirals of the New Marine who could at least request such luxuries occasionally, prisoners in Still Water Prison needed these small comforts far more desperately. The sake would become his most precious possession here, something to share during the darkest moments when hope seemed furthest away.
"You came to visit me suddenly," Jinbe said after a long pause, his analytical mind reasserting itself through alcohol's pleasant haze. "This is probably not as simple as wanting to share drinks with an old friend."
The former Shichibukai knew his own worth—or rather, his lack thereof. He represented nothing in front of his fellow tribesman Hoshigaki Kisame. Their confrontation on Cake Island had proven that beyond any doubt. Admiral Kisame had defeated him so easily it barely qualified as combat, and Jinbe's resistance had implicated many innocent people in the Big Mom Pirates during the process. The guilt toward Charlotte Linlin's crew gnawed at him constantly.
Hoshigaki Kisame met his gaze directly, shark eyes revealing nothing. Then he spoke words that Jinbe had stopped allowing himself to hope for.
"You will be released soon. Queen Otohime paid a heavy price behind the scenes to secure your freedom." The Admiral's expression remained neutral despite delivering such momentous news. "On the day when the Mermaid Banquet is scheduled to begin, I will personally escort you back to Fish-Man Island."
Jinbe's world tilted on its axis. His eyes widened to the point of pain, disbelief and desperate hope warring across his features. He had never truly imagined leaving this hell—the very concept seemed like a cruel fantasy designed to break his spirit further. The Sea Knight, tortured by isolation until he barely recognized himself as a living being, felt tears of shocked gratitude welling in his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but they spilled down his cheeks anyway.
Queen Otohime had saved him. Despite everything, despite his failures and imprisonment, she had intervened.
Jinbe couldn't begin to imagine what price Fish-Man Island had paid. Securing the release of a prisoner who possessed no strategic value, who brought nothing to the negotiating table except historical reputation—what conditions had Queen Otohime accepted? What concessions had she made to Fleet Admiral Artoria Pendragon to finally gain approval for this release? Even Admiral Kisame himself lacked the authority to free prisoners unilaterally.
The political calculation required must have been extraordinary. Jinbe's mind raced through possibilities, each more troubling than the last. What had Fish-Man Island surrendered in exchange for one broken fish-man's freedom?
Compared to the other former Shichibukai with their extensive criminal histories, Jinbe could honestly be considered almost virtuous. Most of his actual crimes occurred during his tenure with the Sun Pirates years ago. He'd spent the following years attempting to atone for those early excesses. Boss Fisher Tiger's death had left him directionless, wandering without purpose or conviction.
Having lost the clarity that once guided him forward, Jinbe's combat capabilities had stagnated. He couldn't perceive where the relationship between fish-men and humans was heading. The future remained shrouded in fog, impossible to navigate with confidence. So he'd joined different factions repeatedly, making whatever contributions he could toward protecting Fish-Man Island from external threats.
After the Whitebeard Pirates' catastrophic defeat at Marineford, the entire Yonko crew and their sphere of influence vanished from the seas. Fish-Man Island lost its primary protection and desperately needed alternative security arrangements. Surveying available options, Charlotte Linlin's Big Mom Pirates seemed the best candidate for a new alliance.
Big Mom herself possessed genuine fondness for the confections produced on Fish-Man Island, particularly the legendary cakes. The two parties negotiated terms that satisfied mutual interests, establishing the formal subordinate relationship that placed Fish-Man Island under Big Mom's flag. Jinbe had positioned one foot firmly in the Big Mom Pirates' organization, and Fish-Man Island regained the deterrent effect of a Yonko's protection. The arrangement had ushered in another period of relative stability.
"If you had appeared a few years earlier," Jinbe said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation, "perhaps Fish-Man Island would be even better than it is now. In this ocean, only strength decides everything. I understand that truth now—perhaps too late."
The Sea Knight had lost most of his fighting spirit during the year's imprisonment. If he truly returned to Fish-Man Island, he planned to retire from active service. He'd struggled desperately across these seas for decades, and the exhaustion had accumulated into a weight he could no longer carry. Jinbe wanted no more involvement in the endless cycles of violence and politics. He simply wanted a peaceful old age, whatever that might look like for a fish-man of his generation.
Naturally, Hoshigaki Kisame found such negative resignation from his kinsman utterly unacceptable. He'd hoped Sea Knight Jinbe would continue shining brightly, contributing to the advancement of fish-men as a people. The words he'd spoken on Cake Island during their battle still applied today, perhaps even more urgently.
"If our generation does not shed more blood," Kisame said, his voice hardening with conviction, "the next generation will have to make far greater sacrifices. In this era, we have no way out. Retreat means extinction. You know this as well as I do."
Jinbe and Hoshigaki Kisame locked eyes across the table, and both recalled the events near Cake Island in vivid detail. The memory proved extremely unpleasant for the former Shichibukai—both were fish-men, yet one had utterly suppressed the other throughout their confrontation. The weak possessed no dignity before the strong, only the privilege of choosing how they suffered.
The conflict had originated when the New Marine took the initiative to abolish the Shichibukai system entirely. Admiral Kisame received personal orders to capture his fellow tribesman, the ocean hero Jinbe. Hoshigaki Kisame had faithfully executed the mission assigned by the Fleet Admiral, demonstrating the cold professionalism expected of the New Marine's elite.
Operating within the Big Mom Pirates' territory inevitably created friction with those attempting to prevent Jinbe's arrest. Admiral Kisame engaged multiple Sweet Commanders during the operation, but the gap in power proved too vast for meaningful resistance. Big Mom's officers fought bravely but hopelessly against an opponent operating on a fundamentally different level.
If Charlotte Linlin hadn't birthed such a capable daughter who rushed into the battlefield at the critical moment, turning the tide through unexpected intervention, Big Mom herself might have confronted the newly appointed Admiral directly. The outcome of such a clash between Yonko and Admiral remained uncertain—both possessed monstrous power, and neither would yield ground easily.
The memory of that humiliation burned in Jinbe's mind even now. He'd been powerless to defend himself, powerless to protect his allies, powerless to affect the outcome in any meaningful way. The realization of his own weakness had been more crushing than any physical defeat.
Yet now, sitting across from the man who had broken him so thoroughly, Jinbe felt the faintest ember of something long dormant stirring in his chest. Perhaps it wasn't quite hope—hope seemed too ambitious. But it might be the distant memory of purpose, waiting to be rekindled if he could find the courage.
"The Mermaid Banquet," Jinbe repeated slowly, testing the words. "How long until then?"
Hoshigaki Kisame allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "Fourteen days. Queen Otohime wants you present for the celebration. She believes your return will symbolize Fish-Man Island's renewed strength and independence."
Fourteen days. After a year in this tomb, fourteen days seemed simultaneously eternal and impossibly brief.
Jinbe raised the sake bottle in a silent toast, and Kisame mirrored the gesture with his own. They drank together in the heart of Still Water Prison, two fish-men on opposite sides of history's currents, bound by blood and divided by duty.
The recording equipment captured it all faithfully, preserving their conversation for whatever purposes Domino's superiors might devise. But in that moment, neither warrior cared about surveillance or consequences.
They were simply brothers again, sharing sake in the darkness, preparing for whatever battles the future demanded.
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