The upper brass of the Government and Navy had anticipated that the Straw Hats would cause some damage to the Sabaody slave trade, but the sheer scale of the operation was far beyond even their worst-case scenarios.
Even so, the broadcast image of Cross literally standing on a soapbox (or, well, a soapbox on top of a sizeable mountain of crates, barrels, and other random debris) with a large, ever-growing, and eagerly attentive crowd around him should not have come as a surprise.
The thrice-damned snail munching on a spinach puff, on the other hand…
Cross took a second to clear his throat and redouble his nerves before starting again.
"People of Sabaody Archipelago!" he announced, speaking in a calm and measured voice that was highly amplified by the distinctly unamused snail on his shoulder. "Allow me to do away with the preamble by getting straight to the point: You all know who I am! You all know why I'm here, you know what my allies and I are doing… and you all probably know why I'm speaking to you now, and what I want to ask of you."
The crowd shifted in distinct discomfort, Cross's words entering a realm at once familiar and uncomfortable.
Sensing how the mood was turning, Cross held up a placating hand. "I know why many of you are going to say no to what I ask. Why have many of you said no to endeavours like this in the past, and why have none of you ever tried this for yourselves? You'll say no, and you'll turn away… because it's not your problem."
Much of the crowd looked like they wanted to just walk away. But whether by reputation, inertia, or even a pricked conscience, none acted on that desire.
And Cross's next words ensured they would stay that way.
"And I get it!" the Anarchist reassured the crowd, earnest and honest compassion in his voice. "I understand! You all agree with us, agree with our cause, agree with what we're fighting for, but you have your own lives. Your own worries, your own hopes and dreams, your own lives. And if you help with this, if you stick your necks out and involve yourselves with this problem, then it will be your lives on the line, and you will be next. And I understand this, and I sympathize, truly I do…"
The crowd tensed, everyone, knowing that there was a 'but' in there. And indeed, as Cross bowed his head and tipped the brim of his cap down, he didn't disappoint.
"But… the truth of the matter is that this is your problem, and it has been for a long time. And I'm not just talking about the soul-crushing guilt of seeing this evil eat away at your homes every damn day and not being able to do a thing about it, oh no! What I'm talking about is the fear you all live in, day after day, that this problem will eventually, inevitably come and involve you!"
-o-
"You can lock your doors, you can bar your windows, you can be as vigilant and as well-armed as you like, but each and every one of you lives in fear of the day where for one second, one instant you'll let down your guard… and lose everything. And it doesn't just have to be you. A friend, a family member, even an acquaintance. Any time, anywhere, so long as this threat exists, everything you know is in mortal danger. Just one glance away, just one moment… and it will be gone."
Cross's shrug was transmitted worldwide via his broadcast, as was his sorrowful grimace. "And you know that it will be the moment you look away because no one else is looking for you. Everyone else is too concerned with their own lives, and those who are supposed to be watching for you refuse to do so, either because they've been given explicit orders not to, because they're benefitting from it, or they couldn't be made to give a damn either way."
In a bar in Loguetown, a brace of uniformed Navy officers off-duty had their mugs snatched from their hands. They looked up, two seconds from tearing whoever had interfered with their drinking a new orifice, only to choke up when they saw that it was the bartender himself giving them a level glare.
"The tap. Is closed," he all but snarled, and with his hand under the countertop, it was very clear that this wasn't up for debate.
The Marines reeled back at the amount of venom in the once kindly man's voice, and in the process noticed just how much unwelcome attention they were receiving from the other patrons. Glares, snarls, they ran the gamut of unkindly expressions.
"H-Hey!" the least senior of the group of soldiers tried to protest, desperately looking around for any form of support. "Come on, guys, are you seriously—? Look, even if Cross isn't ly—er, I-I mean… what I'm getting at is that you know us, we're not like those guys! We're not with them!"
"Oh, really?" another patron sneered, not even bothering to look their way. "In case you've all forgotten, you're wearing their colours. So, you tell us… How, exactly, are you not with them?"
The rookie was made to protest but was silenced when one of his seniors dropped a hand on his shoulder. The new recruit took one look at the head shake the older Marine gave, and didn't protest when the squad shuffled out of the bar and down the street.
By now, the officers of the Loguetown garrison could only ignore the increasingly hostile attitude among the civilian population. They had done nothing to earn it and were well aware of that; Smoker and Tashigi had been particular about ensuring that trustworthy officers were left in charge of Loguetown, even if they weren't Masons… yet.
Yet it was increasingly clear that Cross was breaking the world's faith in the Navy as a whole. And there wasn't much they could do to address it, other than hunkering down and doing their jobs right.
A line was being drawn in the sand. And sooner rather than later, it would come time to pick a side.
-o-
"So yes. No matter how much you try to turn away from it, this evil is your problem. But now, a different issue presents itself." Cross spread his hands out, gesturing to the crowd. "'How can I possibly help? How can I make a difference? After all, we're just civilians; no skills, no strength, while they have weapons and they can fight. No chance at all…'"
The pirate's eyes sharpened, and his expression grew more severe.
"Well, let me tell you, you are dead. WRONG!" The last word roared, even by his elevated volume's standards, and the heat behind it struck a chord in all those watching. "These people might be stronger, might be better armed, but I'll tell you what, they're not better motivated. These people fight for greed. They fight for wealth, personal gain, and nothing else. But you…"
Cross's eyes flashed over the audience as he stepped forward, alighting with particular attention on every hand that bore a wedding band and every child that lingered with their parents. And he could see the fire beginning to form in the eyes that looked back at him.
"You all fight for something far more important than that!" Cross pumped his fist heavenward, charging his voice—and their spirits—even more. "You fight for your lives! You fight for friends and family, for those who were lost and those you could still lose. And most important of all, you fight for your HOME! For two hundred years, Sabaody Archipelago has been forced to suffer under the cancer of slavery! For two hundred years, the home you built, with blood, sweat, and tears, has been stolen from you, twisted into a living nightmare for all who pass through it!"
-o-
"For two hundred years, any traces of your past relations with your aquatic neighbours have been ground into the dirt and abused, and you've had to watch in silence, for fear of being ridiculed, or worse, attacked for defending them! Well, I'm asking you, here and now, are you willing to live like that for even one second more? I SAY, NO!"
The denizens of the deep, of all ages, listened to the ongoing speech. It did not escape them that a large force of royal guards had gathered around the area, probably to prevent any outbreak of violence.
With a certain whale-shark fishman present to organize things, it was a stout impediment to any trouble from Cross's speech.
"This is your home, these are your lives, and they. ARE NOT. WELCOME! Here and now, it is time to make a stand! Time to cast off the chains of fear, of doubt, and put these bastards in their place! Time to stand strong, stand firm, and say, once and for all, NO!"
And the Warlord's presence served to deter other forms of obstructions as well, something that came in handy when he suddenly stiffened and glowered at a perfectly innocuous patch of ground.
Innocuous, anyway, until he planted a sandal on said patch of ground's throat and pressed hard enough to damn near crush its windpipe, prompting the patch to drop its camouflage and scramble frantically for an escape.
"I-I-I let you discover—hork!" Zeo's protest was cut off by more pressure and Jinbei's bone-rattling snarl. "I-I mean… I just wanted to sneak some free concessions?"
Jinbei scoffed and took his sandal off the wobbegong fishman, then grabbed him by the throat, hauling him back into a stance that had Zeo scrambling even more desperately.
"If you're that desperate to watch your pathetic perversions of my crew's hopes and dreams burn to the ground," Jinbei bit out. "Then you can go back to Hody and do so…"
Jinbei flung his arm out, sending Zeo flying way up and far out of sight.
"BACK IN THE PIT YOU CRAWLED OUT OF!"
"And… aww, no twinkle, latido~!" groaned Ryuboshi, though he smiled the whole time.
"I've really gotta stop you from listening to Soundbite's 'Happy Fun Time Copyright Infringement Hour.' It's giving you unrealistic expectations, akkamanbo~!" chortled Manboshi, grinning just as much.
-o-
"Will it be dangerous? Yes. Will people be hurt? Undoubtedly. Will some of you give your lives for this?… I won't lie; there is every chance of it. After all…"
Most of the world winced as Cross slid one of his gauntlets off and unwound his bandages enough to flash his bare arm, reviving some very disturbing memories for the people who'd heard him acquiring it live.
"I've felt it firsthand," Cross nodded solemnly as he rewound his bandages. "I've stared death in the face more than once, and I've rarely come away from it unscathed. It hurt when I got these scars, and they can still hurt sometimes. I've been lucky, and some of you may not be."
The rabble rouser's eyes then shone, not with the grave, solemn light of defiance from before, but rather the blaze of absolutely righteous fury that had made him famous. "But in the same breath, I guarantee, I GUARANTEE!" Cross roared once more. "That if you shy away now… if you back down now… then now and forever, you will regret it. Every time you see someone in chains, someone suffering under the yoke of slavery, you will come back to this moment and find yourself asking-" Cross pointed straight at both his audiences. "'Could I have done something? Could I have stopped that? Could I have made a difference?' And it. Will. Haunt you."
"You might die if you fight… BUT I TELL YOU THIS!" Cross bellowed, the moment emphasized as if by divine intervention via a ray of sunlight bouncing off the bubbles and giving him a celestial spotlight. "HERE AND NOW, I TELL YOU, IT IS BETTER TO DIE! If you must choose, then rather than live forevermore on your knees as a slave, it is better to die on your feet! Die kicking and screaming, fighting to the last, for that which you believe in!"
-o-
Across the world, the vid-snails flashed new images from across the Archipelago.
"And so here I stand. Begging. Pleading. For one thing. For just. One. Thing."
The Corsair Princess stalked through the archipelago, a concentration scowl on her face. A forceful thrust of her palm and a firing line of mercenaries flew into the drink. A crushed mini-twister in her palm and a large ship trying to draw a bead on her crumbled beneath a cyclone. And a blade clean through her back and out her chest didn't even warrant a glance, merely a snap of her fingers that bounced the would-be stabber off the nearest wall with a nasty crunch of bone.
"Fight. Here and now, please help us. Please…fight."
The White Menace was in the process of guaranteeing herself a future lecture on ammo conservation, cackling and taunting all the while. The only break in her blasting was when a would-be rogue tried to sneak up on her, which prompted her to stop just long enough to swing around and utterly brain the sneak with her gun's still-rotating barrel.
"Fight for liberty: your own and those who've lost it!"
The Cyborg stood with a ferocious grimace, his wide stance intercepting every bullet aimed at the newly freed people behind him, then blowing flames from his lips once the shooting ceased. He flexed, letting the few bullets that had sunk in fall to the ground before rearing back his right hand and slamming the shooters to the ground with a Strong Right.
"Fight for equality, so that you may never be crushed again!"
The Devil Child held a man bound by a dozen arms, two of his fingers already clearly broken and slave after slave being freed behind her, thanks to other arms unlocking their restraints, one way or another.
"Fight for brotherhood—for fraternity—because when one of us suffers in chains, we all suffer as one!"
The Sniper King crouched on a bubble bike at the highest point he could manage, a frown of concentration plastered on his face as he fired off Star after Star, supporting his allies on all sides from the best position he could be.
-o-
"FIGHT!" I screamed, I demanded, I begged the crowd, hoping against all hope—inches away from outright kneeling and praying—that they would listen, that they would please, please, please listen. "FIGHT! SO THAT THESE RIGHTS MAY NEVER BE STRIPPED FROM YOU, OR ANYONE ELSE, EVER AGAIN!"
I expected the silence that followed; righteous mobs needed buildup, more than just the one speech. I waited, not letting my expression give an inch, as the seconds ticked on… and on. All I needed was one person to start yelling from within the crowd to get things going, someone to take the first step. And I really didn't want to use Soundbite to fake it, because with my reputation, there was a good chance I could get called on it… But damn it, if there was no other choice…
As it approached a full minute of silence, my resolve started to waver, and I was about to twitch my finger for Soundbite to spark things off…
When I heard it.
"LIBERTY! EQUALITY! FRATERNITY!"
I had no other response than to sag in relief. I had him. Just one person, yelling at the top of his lungs. Hell, the guy literally rose above the crowd, presumably standing on a crate or something as he echoed my (honestly off the seat of my pants, got a bit caught up in the moment there) chant.
Then, just as I knew… or at least had hoped would happen…
"L…Liberty… LIBERTY! LIBERTY! EQUALITY! FRATERNITY!"
"LIBERTY! EQUALITY! FRATERNITY!"
"LIBERTY! EQUALITY! FRATERNITY!"
The whole crowd started to join in: thousands, literally thousands of people cheering and chanting, pumping their fists as the flames of revolution ignited in their souls. It was that sight, that blessed, awe-inspiring sight, that finally allowed me to let a smile of bloody euphoria plaster itself on my face. Now, after months of running a pirate-protest (protest-pirate? Whichever) radio show and leading the world in raging against the global-scale machine, I thought I knew what a rush was. But this?
This was a feeling that I had never even come close to knowing until now.
And hell, I wouldn't have even gotten this far if it wasn't for… huh, who did I owe this all to, anyhow? Because, for all that I had faith in the human spirit, I doubt it was any normal person who'd be able to stand up like that.
So, using the cover of the crowd's ignited fervour, I worked my way through the throngs toward the spot Soundbite had identified as the start of it all. The individual responsible, as it turned out, was a familiar face. Well… not for me, but the grizzled mug giving me a toothy grin and his bush hat rang some damn familiar bells.
"Jeremiah Cross, you are without a doubt the craziest son of a Sea King this half o' the Red Line," the old-timer chuckled, thumbing the brim of his hat. "But heeeell if you're the only one! Y'know, if it weren't for those two friends of yours talkin' to my crew and me earlier, I may not have bothered to give you a split second a' my time!"
"Two friends…" I repeated, trailing off as I ran the possibilities through my head. Then I blinked in surprise. "So you are Bomoss then?"
"Damn straight," he answered, his grin showing more teeth than humour now as he clapped a hand on my snail-free shoulder. "We might be scumbag criminals, but it hurts to admit that it took you and yours to help remind us that this is our home, too. Even we've got standards, and damn it, when the day comes that a tourist is making sense like that… well, I figure that if overthrowin' this order needs to come from where nobody expects?" He cackled and thumped his fist against his chest. "Then that's where it'll come from!"
I chuckled at that before nodding in agreement, smacking my right hand on his shoulder. "And you can be sure we're all grateful for it, Bomoss. Welcome to the fight!"
Bomoss nodded gratefully at the gesture, then… looked at my arm in surprise? No, wait, not my arm, my shoulder, my patch. "A fight it looks like you've already labelled, huh?" he said more than asked, pointing out the tricolour I was wearing. "That doesn't look none too random, but it ain't no flag I've ever seen before. Wassit mean?"
I briefly hesitated to answer—both because I wasn't expecting the question and because I needed a tic to put an answer together—but once I had my response straight, I pointed at the colours. "Blue, the Liberty of the ocean, vast and unrestrained; white, the Equality of living under the same sky, free and clear; and red, the Fraternity of sharing the same blood, no matter who or what you are or where you're from."
Bomoss gave the patch an intent once-over before nodding proudly. "Oh yeah, that's a right beaut of a symbol right there! And if you don't mind," he chuckled and waved his hand, the gesture bringing a few ruffians closer to him through the crowd. A few whispers to them had their expressions snapping to slasher grins, and he laughed as they all darted off. "I think we'll be taking it for ourselves! Get ready to see a lot more of those colours around, mate!"
"Ho, BOY!LOOKS LIKE I'VE gotta start putting some TDstogether!" Soundbite crowd.
"Take whatever lyrics he throws at you with a few grains of salt, ready to pelt him in the face," I deadpanned.
"NYEH!" Soundbite whined obnoxiously. "Anyway, I'm gonna go ahead and start barking out the marching orders to GET THIS PARTY TRAIN A-ROLL—gyeep!" The snail suddenly cut himself off with a choked gurgle, eyes suddenly wide in a very unhelpful combo of shock and terror. "Uhhh,sorry, passengers, a slight change of plans: the 10:30 express to Revolution WILL BE EXPERIENCING A DELAY DUE TO THE TRACKS BEING obstructed."
I gave Soundbite a side-long deadpan look. "What in the hell are you babbling ab—?"
"ATTENTION, CITIZENS OF SABAODY!"
My head bounced, both from the sheer volume of the voice that blasted over the crowd and the sizable sweatdrop I was suddenly sporting. "Yeah, no, never mind, I see what you're saying. Give me a second to get an eye on things…" I looked around real quick, searching for some sort of vantage point I could find to look over the suddenly tentative crowd. And then my eyes fell on Bomoss.
"Hey, old-timer, how strong are you?"
"Eh? I'm pretty tough, but what's it matter to—GAH! HEY, WATCH IT!"
Well, good-news-bad-news time: Good news, I could now mark 'clambering up and over someone so that I could stand on their shoulders' off my bucket list, so that was a plus, though Bomoss swearing and cursing under me kind of ruined the moment a bit. Probably didn't help that I'd planted my foot on his hat to keep my balance, I'll admit…
Bad news? The crowd had been stopped in its tracks by a fucking firing line. And I don't mean a firing line of mercs, that would have been easy to steamroll. No… I mean a line of white and blue. Marines stretched across the root we were on, blocking the paths to other groves. They didn't have their guns levelled at anyone, no, but the sight of a full squadron of Marines in shoulder arms position was intimidating enough to do the job.
And the jagoff of a commander in the front with a bullhorn wasn't helping things either.
"CITIZENS OF SABAODY!" Jagoff bellowed, regarding the crowd with an almost bored intensity. "You are currently violating Section 2101 of Title 18 of the W.G Public Ordinance Code! This is an unlawful and unruly gathering! Mass rioting is punishable by incarceration and 15 years in prison, and we have authorization to use lethal force if you refuse to comply! By order of Fleet Admiral Sengoku, disperse immediately! I repeat, disperse immediately!"
"Ssssonnuva—!" I cursed under my breath. "How the hell did they get here so fast!? That battleship Komei left behind to guard this place is nowhere nearby!"
"Ssssstarting to think that those INSIGNIFICANT FISHING BOATS I HEARD DOCKING a grove away WEREN'T as insignificant as I originally thought…" Soundbite coughed uncomfortably. "ON A MARGINALLY RELATED NOTE, WE'RE FUCKED AREN'T WE?"
"As they say in Alabasta—!" Bomoss grumbled from beneath me.
"There is no way they'd actually fire into a crowd…" I muttered to myself.
"Do you have any bloomin' idea how many other crowds have said those exact words before shite went tits up?!" the smuggler I was using as a makeshift ladder demanded. "Look, you daft gob, in case you haven't noticed, this is about to get real bloody real fast, so let's get out of here fast before—!"
"No, you don't get it!" I interrupted, my brow furrowed in intense thought and disbelief. "I mean, there is literally no chance on this planet that Sengoku would have given those orders, or that he would let anyone stupid enough to claim he did within a mile radius of this archipelago. The Marines' reputation is running on a shoestring budget as it is, and this entire shitshow is nothing short of sociopolitical suicide! They can't even afford to touch Paradise's Public Enemies numbers one through fourteen when we're right on their front porch, so they shouldn't even be able to sneeze in the direction of civvies! Why the hell are they—?"
My brain froze as everything I knew hit me at once, and the pieces clicked together, which prompted me to slowly don a vicious grin.
"…oh. Ooooohohohoh, so that's how it is…" I chuckled, nodding with grim respect. "Well, I'll be damned, that is either the cleverest or stupidest thing they could have done, and for the life of me I can't tell which…"
"Care to share, mate?"
"DITTO, I CAN HEAR A LOT OF THINGS, but not if you don't actually say it!"
I looked at my companions and told them what I had realized. They matched my expression as it sank in.
"Ya know, I think that lot's closer to stupid because you're the one who's closer to clever," Bomoss chuckled. "Aight, I'll spread the word around, keep morale up and all. Oh, and while you're handling those gobs, maybe GET OFF ME HEAD!"
"GAH!" I yelped in shock on account of that particular exclamation being punctuated by Bomoss shrugging me off his shoulders and onto the cold, unforgiving—well, actually, the ground was soft and moist because of the moss, but still!
Bomoss was perhaps a tad too smug about that, but since he was spreading the word and the march wasn't losing any intensity or people despite being ground to a halt, I could let it go.
"Citizens!" the lead jagoff repeated. "I repeat, disperse at once and return to your homes! We are authorized to use lethal force if you continue with your noncompliance—GUH!" Jagoff's tirade collapsed into a gurgle of shock, probably due to the nice and shocking sight of me walking out of the crowd and straight up to him.
I kept my face neutral as I walked right up to him, completely unfazed by the many, many soldiers who all wanted me dead, as well as the many, many weapons they were ready to kill me with. They couldn't miss if they tried, and I couldn't escape if I wanted to.
Yet still, they were more scared of me than I was of them.
"…well?" I asked patiently, Soundbite doing me the favour of bouncing my voice to the rest of the surrounding onlookers. "I'm showing noncompliance, I'm a wanted criminal, and you have the permission to use lethal force. So… force me."
The Marines' collective composure started to crack, and most visibly at that; here a little trembling, there a little sweating, and everywhere a decided lack of gunshots.
The commander was a particularly nervous example, taking a shaky step forward and pressing the barrel of his flintlock pistol between my eyes. "You are outnumbered," he grit out, doing a rather impressive job of keeping the shudder in his voice hidden. "Outgunned, and way out of your league. Surrender, now."
I narrowed my eyes at him and pressed my head against the barrel of his gun as I made a single request.
"Make me."
That took the wind out of the commander's sails, and both his eyes and gun started to shake furiously.
I immediately plastered a pleasant grin on my face. "Here, let me help you with that." And before the Marine could react, I snatched his pistol out of his grip, pressed it to the side of my temple, and pulled the trigger—
CLICK.
—with absolutely no result, as the suddenly deathly silent crowd all heard.
My expression once more utterly unimpressed, I shoved the weapon back in his hands, forcing him to stumble back and scramble to avoid fumbling it. "A word of advice," I commented dryly, my every word—and likely the crowd behind me—sending the line of Marines into terrified retreat. "The next time you point a weapon at someone and try to tell them what to do? Find the balls to load your guns."
And with that, I ignored the panicked babbling of the worthless boob so that I could turn back to the crowd and pump my fist in the air. "PEOPLE OF SABAODY!" I bellowed, Soundbite ramping my voice up once more.
I then leaned forward and donned the absolute best slasher grin I could manage.
"Let's go wreck some shit."
And that just about did it. The crowd bellowed their furious agreement back at me, and as one, stampeded through the now-defunct firing line. As they went, not one person touched any of the Marines. After all, why would they? It wasn't like they were a threat to anyone anymore.
I chuckled and thumbed the brim of my cap as the mob raged past us, and I shot a smug look at Soundbite. "Well! I don't know about you, but I think that went well."
Soundbite's only response was to just laugh and laugh.
-o-
"Where in the hell did they get a cannon?" muttered a sharp-dressed redhead in blue and red as bullets pinged off the overturned cart he was using for cover.
While the Supernovas were doing most of the damage to the slave economy of Sabaody, there had been a great many other pirate crews present on the archipelago, either awaiting a coating job or equally blocked from leaving the place by the blockade to keep pirates out. The Phoenix Pirates, led by this man, were of the latter persuasion. With the conclusion of the previous SBS, they had been gung-ho about returning to Fishman Island and, from there, the New World. But the minute that the SBS revealed what the Supernovas were up to, they jumped at the chance to repay the Straw Hats for helping them and strike a good payday in the process.
Like many others, however, they were finding that slavers could defend themselves surprisingly well given a little warning.
The slave house had only a single entrance, and they'd heavily barricaded that entrance as well as the front wall. Every slaver inside had a gun, and while their fire was more enthusiastic than accurate, in confined quarters, enthusiasm counted more.
And they had a cannon. A cannon that roared and shredded another wagon nearby, sending his crew scurrying for new cover.
"Pretty sure it's a wooden cannon, Cap'n," muttered his crewmate Jiro, also huddled behind the wagon. "Certainly got no shortage of powder and bullets."
Puzzle bit out a curse. He was good with a chain, good enough to catch bullets on the links. But dozens? In a narrow cone? No way in hell.
"Right. Well, I'm open to ideas about how to take it out," he said.
Then he heard the chanting.
"What in the sweet…" he muttered, lifting his head up and looking down the street. His eyes widened, and he paled slightly. That was a mob. No pitchforks, but plenty of torches, and frankly, the diverse array of sharp and blunt objects they were carrying wasn't much better. "Oh, boy."
"Maybe they're here for the slavers?" Jiro offered.
"Maybe. Still, tell the rest of the crew to get ready to bug out if that crowd goes for us."
Jiro nodded and scampered away, crouched low, as Puzzle continued to watch the crowd.
The wait as the crowd came closer was agonizing. Minutes felt like hours. But only a couple of buildings away, the front began to jog right towards them. Puzzle tensed… and then the crowd veered hard left and went straight at the slaving house.
"Oh, no…" Puzzle breathed, eyes wide at what was about to happen.
The cannon roared, and so did every gun in the store. The entire front rank of the mob melted.
…And then the rest were pressing up against the wall and the open door, hammers and crowbars and a few hand axes going to work. Another volley rang out, and more people fell, but the ones behind simply grabbed up the tools and went back at it.
There was also an almighty bang and screams of pain from inside.
"The cannon!" Puzzle realized, shooting to his feet. "Men! Attack!"
Not waiting for a reply, Puzzle dove towards the shop, the crowd parting in his wake, and he let out a roar of exertion as he lashed his chain into the barricade with the force of a sea train at full speed.
It was all over in a matter of minutes. Vicious, hectic, and exceedingly brutal minutes, but minutes. After all, without their artillery emplacement to keep their attackers off their backs, the mercs were still nothing but slaver scum, and thus no match for real pirates.
Once matters had mostly settled down and he had a chance to catch his breath, Puzzle stepped aside and stared in bewilderment. The crowd of civilians, of all things, was in the process of ransacking the store, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down, applying crowbars to the stuff that was, and freeing any slaves they could find.
"Someone want to tell me what I'm looking at here?" he asked nobody in particular, not really expecting an answer.
Hence why he jumped almost a foot in the air when the thin air gave him one. "THAT, MY FRIEND, WAS THE START OF THE SLAVE INDUSTRY'S BAD DAY GETTING EVEN WORSE. Oh, and don't worry, those injuries look worse than they are. TURNS OUT THAT FACING DOWN A CHARGING MOBthrows your aim off something fierce! Who knew, right?"
Puzzle took a second to process that before shaking his head dismissively. "So the explanation is 'act of Straw Hats, just roll with it,' got it. Well, if that's everything—"
"YEAH YEAH, RETURN TO YOUR USUAL LOOT—EH? … crap. Alright, return to your usual looting if you want to, but if you can, maybe swing back towards our staging grounds at Grove 77. THINGS ARE STARTING TO GET… TENSE THERE."
-o-
'Fiendish' Foxy had not been this fatigued since his mano a mano with Luffy, and his crew was starting to feel the strain as well.
The combat itself wasn't the problem, not really. Under normal circumstances, his crew could handle it just fine. But fighting and supervising a timid, unkempt, and not in the least fit to fight sea of individuals? That put a hamper on their abilities.
As such, they had opened the book on war tactics and acted accordingly.
On one side of the Foxy Pirates' captain were the escaped slaves. It was simultaneously both very inspirational and very depressing. The grove's landscape had been transformed into a sea of both hastily erected tents and huddled, frightened bodies. There were a few dozen appropriately trained pirates and miscellaneous volunteers milling through the crowd, providing what comfort they could to the recently emancipated souls. On its own, the situation would have been difficult enough to deal with, given just how many people needed help and the sheer variety and severity of their injuries and traumas…
KRA-KOOM!
Foxy winced, scowling as he shifted his head the other way. But then, the situation was even worse than that, wasn't it…
Erected on Foxy's other side was a massive wall of debris. Anything they could get their hands on. Stone, dirt, wood, metal, they'd even dismantled a few buildings. Small ports had been cut in the barricade to allow the pirates to fire out without getting winged by a bullet, and a few small mortars that Foxy had… appropriated back when he'd been in the Blues were helping keep the Marines' heads down. The fact that Cross's weapon-hound was scampering back and forth across the top of the barricade and blasting out a few choice lobs of his own helped, too.
Further out beyond that, on the other side of the root to the nearest grove, the Marines had pulled out their shovels and dug in, creating a full trench line with a two-foot berm in front. Rifle-armed soldiers manned the line, and they'd hauled up a few cannons to take potshots at the barricade. Not many—Sandersonia, Koala, Duval, and Funkfreed's collective efforts had them moving after every shot—but enough to keep the pirates' heads down.
The closest thing to a break that the captain had was providing a sitrep with the newly arrived commander of the whole operation… who, regrettably, hadn't brought much with him in the way of reinforcements.
"Foxy, how are things looking?" Cross started immediately, while his slimier half's attention was… basically anywhere within his mile radius that wasn't there at the moment, but given the situation, that could be excused. More importantly…
"Not good, Cross," Foxy huffed, gesturing for Cross to walk with him as they continued his patrol along the perimeter. "As you can see, we're holding things together, tending to the ex-slaves' injuries, trying to keep them calm—"
BOOM!
The Slow-Man flinched as another cannon shot landed, demolishing part of the barricade. However, Foxy noticed that while Cross did react to the explosion, it was by glaring at the blast with what could only be described as contempt. At this point, he wasn't sure if it was from confidence, foolishness, or both.
"…probably both," Foxy muttered.
"WHAT WAS THAT?"
"Nothing, just thinking out loud," Foxy waved him off. "But as I was saying, that isn't helping with the whole 'keeping the peace' thing. There are a lot of Marines and mercenaries lined up out there. So far, they haven't made any serious pushes that we haven't been able to push back; your allies and weapons have been useful on that front."
"Hi Cross, bye Cross!" Lassoo barked as he leaped past above them, the aforementioned tactician giving him a casual salute in passing.
"Anyway, all they've been doing is lobbing fire and such, a lot of sabre-rattling and warning shots, but they haven't actually broken out their heavy artillery yet. The threat to civilians or merchandise—depending on who you ask—is keeping them in place. But—!"
Foxy winced at a sudden bout of shouting from the camp. It was hastily shushed down, but the fact that it had happened at all…
The split-headed captain groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Cross, it took me a bit to figure out why they're focusing their efforts on only one bridge to this grove, but breaking the barricade is only their second priority. They're trying to scare the civilians, and it's working. The idea of fighting the Marines themselves is spreading. And we both know how badly that would end, this close to Marineford."
Foxy began grinding his teeth, half out of terror and half out of sheer frustration.
"You may have dismissed the unarmed jackasses as no threat—and you're right, the slavers' mercenaries are only really a threat now that they're coordinating with the Marines—but if people start to riot, if the Marines can muster up even a half-baked excuse—!"
"I know, Foxy, I know," Cross cut in, silencing him with a raised hand. "Just… just keep it peaceful."
Foxy was about to snap back with a snide remark (what the hell did he think Foxy was here for?) before he noticed the look on Cross's face.
Now he, like many others across the world, had seen many different expressions from the rabble-rouser's visage, from incensed rage to mad grins to genuine sorrow…
But that look—the look of raw, determined resolve—was none of those.
Faced with that look, Foxy's retort died in his throat.
"…I hope that this 'out' of yours is as good as you think it is, Cross."
That solemn expression didn't shift an inch. "As good, if not better, Foxy. Now go."
Foxy nodded slowly, reassured by Cross's composure, and returned to the fray, a beam sword of slowmo photons materializing in his hand. As soon as his line of sight was beyond Cross's, the latter allowed his desperation to show, raking his steel-clad fingers through his hair.
"Vivi, please tell me that things are on track, because we're running out of time."
"Everything on our end is finished, and we've regrouped at the Government Building to escort Libia. We've caught a ride with a few Flying Fish Riders to reach you faster, so we'll be there in minutes," Vivi responded, sounding like she was gnawing on her thumb. "And I just heard from them; communications are cut off now, of course, but as soon as they're ready, you'll be the first to know. But in terms of getting here, their route is proving… troublesome."
Cross slapped his palm to his forehead with a groaning growl. "Because getting from there to here is no cakewalk, even for them, right, damn it…"
"In all fairness to them, you did kind of pull the trigger on this out of the blue—"
"Are you really starting this with me?!"
"Just commenting. Anyway, all I can suggest is that you stall for a little longer. I'm sorry, Cross."
"Ggrgrghh…" Cross continued rubbing his scalp even as he signalled for Soundbite to drop the feed. "OK… alright, maybe if I flank them and draw attention to myself, I can divert their attention for a few minutes. If I take Lassoo and Funkfreed, I might even be able to keep them occupied long enough for—"
"Oh, hey, we're going somewhere?" Funkfreed's high-pitched question was a welcome surprise as the elephant clambered/slithered over the barricade, soon joined by a panting and eager Lassoo.
"Want us to help? Chaos knows you've got a bad habit of biting off more than you can chew." The droll offer made by a returning Koala, however, was less welcome, especially when backed up by Sandersonia's presence.
"What the—I thought you two were supposed to be on the front lines keeping those bastards back!" Cross hissed incredulously.
The anaconda-woman blinked in surprise. "I… thought you called us back?" Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. "At… the same time that all their raiding parties got called back… and the cannons on both sides are stopping…"
As silence fell on the whole of Grove 77 in the lull of the battle, Cross and those near him all turned their focus on the shamelessly grinning culprit.
"WHAT, FORGOT ABOUT ME ALREADY?"Soundbite sing-sang, shamelessly swaying back and forth. "I'm more than a pretty face, you know! YOU NEEDED a plan, I've got a plan! AND YOU NEED A DISTRACTION AND TO KEEP PEOPLE CALM, well, I'm giving you both at once. AND TRUST ME, IT WILL BE EPIC~!"
"Somehow I don't think a show of force is going to help us much right n—!" Cross started.
"WE'RE NOT THE DISTRACTION, dingus, I JUST NEEDED TO SHUT THIS PLACE UP LONG ENOUGH…" Soundbite's grin widened enough to mirror his partner's typical countenance. "To let everyone hear THIS."
The moment the snail's voice died, everyone—literally everyone in the Grove—heard… a drumroll. A relatively short, common drumroll that ended in a firm strike. Then it repeated itself, and again, and again.
Following the noise, it turned out the drumming was coming from Brook of all skeletons, his lack of flesh still masked by his welding mask, but his afro was plenty distinctive.
"Gotta give him credit, one rendition AND BONEJANGLES IS ALREADY PLAYING IT PERFECT!" Soundbite grinned.
Cross, though…
The Voice of Anarchy, while he had originally looked skyward in panic, now wore an expression of pure, unadulterated joy. A wide grin adorned his face, though for once it held no malice; only unbridled jubilance at the blaring of the anthem.
Then, in a voice that was barely louder than a breath…
Cross sang the lyrics of a song unknown to any realm in the world, yet one that conveys a ubiquitous message.
"Do you hear the people sing?"
Koala looked at Cross in confusion…
"Singing a song of angry men?"
…before he carried on the next segment of the chorus.
Her eyes lit up like a lighthouse in a raging storm, and without a second thought, she took up the next line.
"It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again!"
At this point, Sandersonia had caught on. With memories of relief, hope, and joy stirring in her heart from the day she was set free, she raised her own voice to join in the song.
"When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums…"
The three of them crescendoed, with or without Gastro-Amplification, and echoed throughout the grove:
"THERE IS A LIFE ABOUT TO START WHEN TOMORROW COMES!"
And then, out of the blue, a fourth voice chimed in. A child's voice.
"W-Will you join…" One of the nearby refugees, a girl who couldn't be older than ten, stammered out the words, likely barely even understanding what she was saying. "In our crusade?"
"Who will be strong and stand with me?" This, however, was stated with far more force and confidence by a man with heavily bandaged wrists, who was standing up and sporting the grin of a man possessed.
And on and on it went, the song bouncing from person to person and gaining more force as it went.
"Beyond the barricade," came from a shaken but recovering couple leaning against one another, while "Is there a world you long to see?" was sung by a woman cradling her child.
And it was at that point, when the mood swelled to an absolute peak, that Cross snapped out a series of gestures. With one hand, he snapped at Koala and pointed to the top of the barricade, prompting her to clamber on up to where everyone could see her. With the other, he pointed at a makeshift flag that had just been painted with the Tricolour and gestured for it to be tossed to him.
The instant it was in his hands, he threw it up to Koala, who caught it and started waving it to the cheers of all who could see her. "THEN JOIN IN THE FIGHT!" she roared, leading the eruption of sound that echoed across the grove. "THAT WILL GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO BE FREE!"
It was at that point that the refugees truly took heart, as nearly a dozen across the camp picked up instruments and joined in, raising their voices and tunes to a chorus.
From there… everyone drew breath as one, and the Archipelago sang.
-o-
"He's at it again," Zoro muttered, failing to hide a smirk.
"Yeeep. Damn cheeky sonnuva…" Jewelry Bonney trailed off into a frown, a frown born of memories that flashed through her mind. After a moment of thought, she glanced around her. Her company was her own crew, whom she trusted; the Straw Hats, who would not judge; the Heart Pirates, who were allied with the Straw Hats and previously allied with her crew; and the crowd that they were leading on to Grove 77, who were already singing.
The Glutton breathed in deeply… and joined in the chorus:
"DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING?
SINGING A SONG OF ANGRY MEN?
IT IS THE MUSIC OF A PEOPLE
WHO WILL NOT BE SLAVES AGAIN!"
-o-
"Really, given everything I know about the bastard, I should've seen something like this coming," Apoo sighed, giving a defeated shrug.
"Yeah, Cross does a lot of things like this. It is the first time he's done something this big, though!" Luffy replied with a slight, proud smile.
"I'll say!" Urouge guffawed, clapping his massive hands together in a raucous show of appreciation. "The man may disdain the divine, but he can certainly deliver a good sermon all his own when freedom enters the picture!"
'In more ways than one,' Apoo dryly thought, slyly pushing his glasses up his nose. But that bit of snark was quickly dismissed in favour of joining the following chorus:
"WHEN THE BEATING OF YOUR HEART,
ECHOES THE BEATING OF THE DRUMS,
THERE IS A LIFE ABOUT TO START
WHEN TOMORROW COMES!"
As the singing continued, Luffy's expression slowly fell, turning solemn as he refocused on his surroundings. Namely, he eyed the chains the freed slaves were carrying; he'd have broken them if he could, but with bombs strapped around their necks and time something of a luxury, he'd just had an easier time knocking out the walls around their shackles wholesale. Sure, they'd all be able to get their collars off with the lockpicks waiting at their destination, but then…
As the gears in the rubbery mind started to turn (for once), he slowly beamed as an idea came to him.
"Hm?" Apoo grunted at a tap on his arm. He turned to see Luffy facing him with his trademark grin, but the Long-Arm swore he saw a bit of joyous glee in there.
"Hey, long-arm guy? Big monk guy?" The other two Supernovas felt chills go down their spines as Straw Hat's grin became an almost eerie parody of his tactician's trademark expression. "I've got an idea~~~."
In that moment, neither Apoo nor Urouge were sure they'd ever grinned wider in their lives.
-o-
As the anthem continued, the air still singing strong with the voices of thousands crying out for freedom, Cross dropped his voice from the chorus and took a moment to catch his breath.
During that pause, I smiled proudly at my brilliant partner. "You know, I don't say this often enough, but good job, Soundbite."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm brilliant, yadda yadda," the snail grunted, his perturbed grimace a stark contrast to his earlier eagerness. "Just one problem. Inspirational this may be—!"
KRA-KOOM!
Cross and his fellow revolutionaries all flinched as another chunk of the barricade was suddenly blown to matchsticks. And while the singing never stopped, the hiccup in harmony was palpable, as was the waver that infected the lyrics to follow.
Soundbite snorted furiously as he watched the roused Foxies scramble to patch the hole and evacuate any injured. "BUT DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN, this isn't, and Markus we ain't. Panic's stopped, MARINES NOT. WE BOUGHT TIME, NOT VICTORY. GOT ANYTHING ELSE UP YOUR SLEEVE?"
Cross ground his teeth, searching his companions for an idea. Nothing came. A little desperate, he turned to Koala. "You're the one who's got experience with warzones, any ideas?"
Koala bit out a sharp tsk as she cast her gaze towards the No Man's Land. "How much longer do you need?"
"UNTIL WE GET—Puru puru puru puru!" Ringing cut Soundbite off, and Cross nearly ripped the receiver off. He grabbed it so fast.
"Hello?" he demanded.
There was a short pause as the answer echoed in Cross's headphones. To the immense comfort of everyone watching, he heaved out a sigh of contentment, his entire body sagging with pure relief.
"No, no, don't worry about it, everything's fine. Hell…"
Hearts all around were positively buoyed when Cross's countenance returned to its familiar demonic status.
"You're exactly on time. Soundbite!" Cross snapped his attention around, staring straight at—straight through—the barricade. "Call the Marines. I've got only one thing to say to them."
-o-
"'Parley!?' Jeremiah fucking Cross tells you that he wants to parley, and you actually listen to the shit!? Fuck's sake, if you can be this dumb and still get a damn coat, then maybe I should try my hand at this whole 'Marine' shit. Bet I'd be a Vice Admiral by the end of the week!"
Marine Commander Aihara glared at the mercenary commander, Tora. "We are in a stalemate with one of the worst pirate crews in history, and half of this island is already burning. And there are hostages in that grove that need rescuing. I will take whatever victory I can get at this point."
"'Hostages?' You actually buy that shit?"
"Frankly, I'm not paid enough to care either way."
The battleground had fallen silent as the commander emerged from the barricade, a seasoned mercenary at his side. The pair paced forward, and Jeremiah Cross came to meet them, his arms and legs bare of armour as he entered no man's land, and a snail—the snail—on his shoulder. The pirate was flanked by two figures, both rendered unidentifiable by the Anonymous Cloaks™ they were wearing. Granted, one of them was literally three times taller than the other two, and the other's frame was distinctly feminine, but otherwise, they were totally obscured.
The two groups walked until they were about ten paces apart, coming to a mutual stop. Tora took an ostentatious step forward but immediately retracted it when Cross shot a glance at him.
"So," Cross said, his trademark grin never wavering. "I'm curious what you're going to concede to get us to give up. Better be something good, because we can keep this up all day, and you've still got an archipelago to subdue."
The Marine commander glared at Cross, clearly unimpressed. "There will be no concessions. No terms will be accepted other than immediate and unconditional surrender. Decline, and we will move upon your…" He glanced at the improvised—and by now rather battered—barricade. "Woodworks, and slaughter you all to a man. If you bend the knee, however, then you will possibly prolong your worthless lives for a few more days."
"Or, to put it another, more accurate way," the mercenary chuckled as he unslung an axe from his back and tapped its haft in his palm. "You lot can repent, give us our merchandise back and bow your necks to the white-hat here…" Said white-hat, grunting in irritation at the moniker. "And maybe you'll suffer less. Lastly," the merc let out a grim chuckle as he danced his fingers across his axe's blade. "It'll hurt less than what my boys and I are planning to do to you."
Cross's 'impressed' whistling was expected, but still annoying. "Well, I'll give you a lot of credit for sticking to your guns. Sadly, I'm afraid you've misjudged things… quite a bit," the criminal responded, pointing at the pair. "See, you're not here to tell us to leave; we're here to tell you to leave. After all…"
The Voice of Anarchy then plastered a vicious grin onto his face.
"…you can't touch us anymore."
A silence fell over the war—er, battle-torn grounds. Aihara and Tora, struck dumb by the pirate's audacious statement, could only stand frozen.
Then Aihara did what any sane man would do: he scoffed.
"What are you talking about, you insolent thug? Though we very much wish you were, you don't seem to be a ghost."
"Har har, dickweed," Cross flippantly replied, with a flip of his hand no less. "No, I mean that the land that we now stand on is no longer under the World Government's jurisdiction. So, unless you want the ones who do have authority here to take exception to your continued existence, I'd very much advise you all to step. Off."
"…excuse me? I thought you were intelligent, not blind and deaf. Our name is the World Government. If I don't have the jurisdiction to arrest you, who does?"
Cross simply grinned the grin that razed islands. "Oh, that's simple."
SPLOOOSH! SKRANG!
The Marine started as two pillars of water shot out on either side of the root, each accompanied by a pair of projectiles. They slammed into the ground before Cross in an X, at which point the 'law-keepers' recognized them.
Tridents.
"Them."
SPLASH!
A moment later, the waters next to the roots burst open again, only this time, instead of disgorging weapons, they disgorged the weapons' bearers, who landed right next to their tridents and brandished them without a drop of wasted time or energy. Still drenched and no less intimidating for it, two muscular fishmen—bedecked in very heavy shell-clad helmets and pauldrons—stood before Jeremiah Cross, levelling their polearms at the 'unwelcome' parties.
"You are trespassing on the property of the Ryugu Kingdom," one of the fishmen growled, his expression remarkably calm for the sheer rage in his voice. "Vacate the premises immediately, or we will remove you by force."
Aihara gritted his teeth and opened his mouth to politely ask what in the name of the Elder Stars' sweet almighty beards the fishman thought he was talking about.
The merc didn't give him the chance by posing the same question. "Oh yeah, fish-fuck? You and what army?" Albeit in a cruder fashion.
Neither did the suddenly grinning fishman who'd delivered the ultimatum. "Oh, I was really hoping you'd ask." And then he snapped his webbed fingers.
Cross, who was by now running out of cheek to stretch, spun a bundle out of his belt and unfurled an umbrella of all things, leaning it on his shoulder as he flashed them a shaka sign. "Surf's up, brah!"
"What are you—?!"
KRA-SPLASH!
"WAGH!"
A moment later, the waters next to the mangrove root erupted—literally erupted, in a practically volcanic manner—and then crashed down, blinding and drenching everyone who hadn't prepared for the event.
It was also only these individuals who were prepared for the sight that everyone beheld when the salty sheets of rain finally stopped falling.
Where once there had been still water, now there sat two massive galleons, encrusted all over with sea life ranging from barnacles to sixty-foot kelp fronds to the biggest starfish any of them had seen. In stark contrast to the limp, tattered sails that clearly weren't designed to catch the wind, the unmistakable flag of the Ryugu Kingdom—a cyan flag bearing a vertical conch shell superimposed over a crossed harpoon and trident—flapped proudly in the wind.
Oh, and the rails were lined with uniformly armoured fishmen, and in place of broadside cannons, the ships were bristling with harpoon guns. Very, very large harpoon guns. Very, very large harpoon guns aimed right at them.
And it wasn't just the ships that were teeming with fishmen soldiers. The original pair on the root had been joined by at least two dozen other equally armoured knights, the lot of them forming a wrought-iron wall of interlocked shields interspersed by protruding lances. The only real break was the one right in front of Cross, allowing the Marine and merc to maintain an unbroken line of sight with the pirate's rapturous smile.
"So, boys, tell me," Cross inquired ever so politely, closing his umbrella with a deft spin of his wrist. "Is this enough of an army for you?"
"One last time," the first of the fishman soldiers repeated, a smirk both visible on his face and audible in his voice. "You are trespassing on the property of the Ryugu Kingdom. Vacate the premises immediately, or we will remove you by force."
The suddenly self-conscious merc let out a nervous chuckle as he slowly slid one of his feet back, glancing towards the Marine. "…ehhh… I still get paid for this, right?"
The Marine shot the merc an irritated glance before exhaling explosively and glaring even harder at the fishmen, with a decidedly unamused expression. "Soldiers of Ryugu Kingdom, allow me to make it clear to you that you are in the process of making a very grave mistake. I don't know what you think that that—" He pointed at Cross, who returned the gesture with a jaunty wave. "—terrorist told or promised you, but the actions you are taking are illegal. If this is a declaration of secession, it's the most foolish thing that I've ever seen. And I can assure you, no matter what his broadcast might have you think of the World Government's current state…" Aihara's expression darkened as his hand fell hard on his sword's hilt. "We most certainly still have the strength required to put down one nation that's committing a capital crime."
"Save that in this instance, the only so-called capital crime I see being committed here, sirrah, would be the international incident you and that lout with you would perpetrate, were you to take one step more!"
"And believe you me, punishing you all for committing said incident would be one of my fondest memories for years to come if you actually went through with it. So I implore you: test your luck and give me half a reason."
And now the attention turned to two specific fishmen—no, mermen moving towards them. One of them was an elderly catfish merman, clad in a top hat and purple robe with his tail slithering behind him, a horned cane helping him along. The other was easily twice their size, held aloft by a bubble ring around his waist, and was also using an ornate trident as a makeshift walking staff to push himself forward. He had long, untamed blue hair and wore little, only a purple, skirt-like garment and a cyan sash that seemed to defy gravity, wrapping around his back and above his shoulders. The lack of clothing only served to emphasize every inch of his muscular frame.
Aihara and Tora did not recognize these two individuals, nor did they care to fit the pieces together. But there was a justifiable sense of intimidation emanating from them.
Cross, on the other hand, actually bowed his head in respect, even doffing his hat at the pair. "Ah, Honourable Minister of the Left, and Your Highness, Prince Fukaboshi. A pleasure to make your acquaintance; your reputations precede you. Welcome to the Sabaody Archipelago."
While the Marine and merc boggled at the newly identified nobles in abject shock, Prince Fukaboshi returned Cross's greeting with a smirk and a nod, while the Minister let out a good-natured laugh and tipped his top hat. "And a fond hello to you as well, Jeremiah Cross! A pleasure to be here, both on the Archipelago and the SBS! But, if you'll pardon me for but a moment, I just need to put some affairs in order, and then we can discuss matters in earnest. Speaking of which…" The Minister turned to the sopping-wet pair, and his kindly mood evaporated in an instant. "You two. As the good soldier already informed you, you are trespassing on the sovereign territory of the Ryugu Kingdom. Leave now or face the consequences."
Aihara grit his teeth as the dual irritations of a fish-person speaking back to him and being spoken back to at all piqued his ire. "Are you truly trying to say before the world that Fishman Island—no, that the Ryugu Kingdom is invading Sabaody Archipelago? Because that would mean invading an allied territory, tantamount to a declaration of war. If that is the case, you can be assured that the World Government will involve itself. And you don't want that."
"Pft," the Minister scoffed, waving his staff dismissively. "Hardly, hardly, my good man. Really now, invading an island? Why ever would we do that? We've already made plans to seek the rights to claim an uninhabited one at the next Reverie. As it stands, you've misunderstood me quite badly. We are not claiming that the Archipelago itself is the territory of our nation. Rather…" The Minister tapped his cane on the root, nodding his head back towards the mangrove tree behind him. "Merely this single district, Grove 77. This grove, specifically, bears the sovereign soil of the Ryugu Kingdom, and thus no longer falls under your jurisdiction."
Tora's face twisted up in confusion even as Aihara's expression darkened still further. "Wait a tic, sovereign soil, where have I—?" The appropriate neurons flared in his brain, and his face lit up in honest panic. "W-Wait a second, doesn't that usually mean a—!"
"Yes. Yes, it does."
It was with that declaration that Prince Fukaboshi planted the butt of his trident in the ground, drawing himself upright so that he could stare down at the humans. "As of one o'clock today, Grove 77 has been designated as the grounds for an embassy of the Ryugu Kingdom. The first embassy that our kingdom has ever opened on the surface, as a matter of fact. You should feel very honoured, Commander. You're witnessing a momentous occasion."
Aihara's cheek twitched with the effort needed to suppress a curse. "Save that you can't open an embassy in another country's grounds without their explicit approval, and I know for a fact that there's as much a chance of Governor Prefectus actually approving this as—!"
"You will find, Commander," a positively frigid voice cut in, causing Aihara to instinctively snap to attention. "That Ex-Governor Prefectus is unable to decide so much as the colour of his own clothes at the moment, much less matters of international policy."
With a mounting sense of dread, Aihara and Tora slowly turned to look behind them. Both froze up; they didn't recognize the woman in the center, but distressingly, she was wearing the governor's ceremonial badge, and perhaps more distressingly, she was flanked by Nefertari Vivi and Nico Robin of the Straw Hat Pirates, along with a host of Sabaody law enforcement officers.
"And since he's currently under arrest for embezzlement, corruption, and a shocking amount of bribery, from a source we are very intently investigating…" the woman wearing the badge hummed, making a show of examining her fingernails. "You'll find that he won't be making any such decisions for the rest of his life. As such, the government of the Sabaody Archipelago—which has recently undergone a re-evaluation of its own—has elected me, Governess Amati Libia, to act in his stead. And it was I, with all the rights and privileges that my office affords me, who approved the Ryugu Kingdom's acquisition of this grove." She tilted her head in such a way that her glasses flashed. "Will that be a problem, Commander?"
Aihara's jaw-twitch intensified. "Are you… completely certain that that is a course of action you would like to take, Governess?"
"Oh, absolutely," Libia stated, her voice as blunt as a hammer as she breezed past the Marine. "I and much of my current cabinet are of the opinion that it was long past time that we renewed our relations with our fishmen neighbours, relations that we have neglected for far, far too long a time."
It was with that proclamation that she halted in front of the Fishmen Royalty and dropped into a polite bow. "I can only hope that this will be the first step on the long road to peace, Your Highness."
"That is a sentiment that the whole of the Ryugu Kingdom, my father and I in particular, reflect, Governor. And congratulations on your… election," Fukaboshi chuckled as he inclined his head in turn.
"No thanks required, I just hope I do a better job than my predecessor. Not that that's a high bar, but still. Speaking of which…" Straightening up, Libia turned her attention to the Minister of the Left and held out a laminated, notarized, and long-since dried document that at least looked very official. "Keep this well-protected. Normally, we'd have more fanfare for this, but given the circumstances, this will have to suffice."
And with that, without changing either of their deadly serious expressions, 'Devil Child' Nico Robin drew out and popped a champagne popper, while 'Corsair Princess' Nefertari Vivi blew a party blower. A curly one. With streamers.
"SNRK!" And since Cross was suddenly biting into his knuckles to keep from cackling while his snail was silently howling, yes, that had actually just happened.
…Aihara was beginning to really hope that he would wake up soon.
"I am not getting paid enough for this shit…" the merc muttered, unknowingly echoing his misery.
But still, just in case that wasn't in the cards… "You should be aware, Governess," Aihara ground out, in spite of how it felt like he was chewing glass to get it out. "That the World Government had several… agreements in place with your predecessor. Agreements that I would very much advise you take into consideration before you make any further… uneducated decisions."
"Oh, is that so?" the freshly minted Governess mused, glancing at the commander with intense disinterest. "Well, then, that sounds like something you'll want to take up with my successors."
Aihara felt the shudder that wracked his body in his soul.
"Successors… plural?!" he yelped.
"Indeed," Libia hummed, casually taking off her glasses to polish one of the lenses. "You see, we citizens of Sabaody have taken the chance to review our government's history, and quite frankly, we've found our prior governors to be somewhat…" She let out a slight hiss as she pushed her glasses back onto her nose. "Lacking. In a number of areas. As such, we decided that a change was in order. Come the end of the week, we'll be dissolving the current government and calling a… what was the term? Oh, yes, a constitutional convention so we can set up a proper constitutional democracy. Anything the World Government wishes to discuss, they can take it up with the council of civilians that will be elected in my stead. Is that clear, soldier?"
"Yes… ma'am…" Aihara snarled out, his nerves ratcheting even higher as another option to get out of this with even half a chance of keeping his job evaporated. But, not being one to admit defeat without a hell of a good reason, he kept trying, this time with the Minister of the Left. "Even so. This. Changes. Nothing. You still have no right to refuse us passage or to harbour these criminals and their hostages."
Aihara felt the nascent temperature drop twenty degrees, but he pushed through with his statement. "This grove may belong to your kingdom, but your kingdom bel—"
He snapped his teeth shut as the temperature hit freezing around him and hastily reworded his sentence. "—is a part of the World Government, meaning that they are still within our jurisdiction. If you still refuse to stand aside, we will be forced to file a report stating your secession, and as I stated before, you know as well as I that the consequences to such a course of action would be dire, to say the least."
"And I believe," the Minister of the Left intoned, frigid as the polar seas. "That you could use a refresher course on the very laws you and yours supposedly enforce."
"What are you—?!"
"Ahem, if I may?" Nefertari Vivi coughed into her fist. "If you don't mind, kindly refer to the World Government Foreign Policy, 25th Amendment, Article 7, Section 5, Subsection 62… 12th revision. A piece of legislation more commonly known as the Drake Doctrine."
Aihara twitched in confusion. For some reason, that name struck a chord in him, but for the life of him, he couldn't—
"To paraphrase for the sake of those not well-versed in legalese," the Corsair Princess sniffed primly. "'In the event that a member nation of the World Government proves to be too remote, too inhospitable, or lacks the proper infrastructure to support a proper Marine presence, that nation will be granted the right to maintain its own standing forces and handle matters of a judicial nature as the ruling body deems fit.' End paraphrase. This law is followed by a list of nations that fall under the aegis of the Doctrine…"
"At the very top of which," the Minister of the Left sniffed imperiously. "Is the Ryugu Kingdom."
"B-But what does that—?!" A choked gurgle occupied Aihara's throat as the implications struck him like a Sea King. "No… no, you can't be saying—! That's not what that law means—!"
"Oh, but isn't it?" the Minister all but sneered at the Marine. "After all, the quick and dirty summary of that legislation is 'you're on your own, handle matters as best you can,' so here we are, handling them." The catfish merman punctuated his ire with a sharp rap of his staff on the ground. "For the past two hundred years, the World Government has made their stance on your jurisdiction in our Kingdom explicitly clear for all to know. All instances of crime, from disturbing the peace to kidnapping to murder, fall to the Ryugu Kingdom's monarchy to solve and punish. All authority has been ceded to our administration and oversight, and at last, we are exercising that right to its fullest, even if that should be verging on the definition of abuse."
"And as such!" the Minister all but roared, as much as his elderly voice allowed. "By the authority vested in me by his Majesty King Neptune, I declare that so long as they remain under our aegis, you and yours will not touch one hair on the heads of these pirates—nay, these heroes!—or those poor, unfortunate souls they have rescued from their wretched fates! And that! Is! Final!"
All Aihara could manage was a wheezing gurgle as his last hopes all burned to cinders before his eyes.
"Now now, Minister, there's no need to be quite so harsh on the poor fellow."
Aihara's gaze snapped up to Prince Fukaboshi. He knew he shouldn't put too much stock in the seemingly placating tone of his voice; he knew that there was another shoe waiting to fall, but damn it, if he had even an inkling of hope left then—!
"After all, he's merely acting according to the law," the Prince said in the same calm tone. "If he wishes to reclaim his organization's authority in our nation's borders, then it's quite simple: all the Marines have to do is establish a base of authority on Fishman Island and fully man it while maintaining peace and order in our home. Simple, no?"
And lo, did the good Marine learn what hope sounded like when it died. "B-B-But that-that would take years to establish!" he babbled weakly. "And the p-p-price of upkeep alone—!"
"I'm sorry? Am I hearing this right?!" And of course, that was when Jeremiah-fucking-Cross piped in, his ear ostentatiously cupped. "Sir, sir, are you implying that the World Government puts a price on the safety and well-being of its citizens? Did I hear that correctly? And if so, can I quote you on that?…oh, wait."
And in that moment… the Marine swore that it was not a man smiling at him, but the incarnation of Chaos itself.
"We're live."
After that, Aihara suffered a brief moment of confusion where he couldn't tell if the pounding in his ears was his jack-hammering heart or the gavel of his court-martial…
And then everything went black.