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Dawn : to start or begin, to begin to be understood, to begin to become light as the sun rises.
And yet as the sun falls and night envelops the East Blue in hazy darkness, there burns a ‘Dawn’.
Surrounded by ten ships, an island is ablaze.
The tallest tree with a flaming flag begins to fall, crashing upon a hut of mountain bandits. Bloodied bodies, the dying and the dead, lay within that hut. Skulls and chests riddled with bullet wounds yet their enemies held no guns.
Their ashes rejoin the soil.
Shards of a den den mushi are scattered across a countertop. Frozen mid-reach towards what once was a snail is a pale arm, mangled and disjointed. The owner weeps, clutching her shoulder, searching for something that should be there. Bottles of alcohol fall and the whistling grows louder.
A bar explodes.
Dragged across the remains of a sea-side town is a boy, barely fourteen.
Body shackled and chained, his chin marks the dirt as he stares. Grief rages on in his heart as he’s locked away on a ship, sailing further from his beginnings.
His sobbing isn’t enough to snuff their cheers of justice.
It’s damp, and it’s painfully warm. He’s boiling.
The seastone weighs on Luffy’s wrists, forcing his listless mass to sink into the bloodied stone floors of his prison. Even the dim light, creeping in from underneath the door, burns him in his wretched state. Pinching his puffy eyelids shut, he begins shaking his head furiously.
“No. No, no, no, nonono—” leaves Luffy in between shaky sobs. Each word breaks upon his tongue, sliced up by the cracks in his teeth, leaving only to slash the very person who brought them to existence. Cheeks scraping and skin peeling, he continues to writhe in a mindless panic. Confusion and anger bubbling under his skin, breaking out in a bloody showcase of grief. Tugging on restrained limbs. Pulling at the seams of short, lanky muscle. Tearing and straining. His arm begins to dislodge. Body crunching inwards—
A loud thud reverberates in his head, stealing his breath and leaving him still.
Discoherent brown eyes trail upwards from the bloody loafers before him. Yellow striped trousers with edges still crisp, the spattering dirt and grime lead up to a matching blazer. It’s far messier than the rest of the clothes, crumpled and torn from where Luffy clawed in a desperate attempt to fight. Still damp with tears and riddled with spit, laced with foul curses and sharp words.
A slow inhale forces the room into motion.
“I expected something… more from Dragon’s son. But I suppose all feral beasts look the same to man.” Lazy eyes drop down to Luffy’s ragged form, glazing over his hapless injuries. The rigidity of the man’s silhouette only hardens with curious disgust.
Hand scratching at the stubble on his chin, he raises a finger and Luffy’s body jolts back. The digit shatters into embers. Hefting his small body to the edge, Luffy curls into the corner, shying away from the light.
The harbinger of mortem, shadowed by gods forever righteous, stares. Illuminated by his devil fruit, each pathetic bruise and scrape lays bare for the man-made cherub to judge. There’s a moment of silence. Luffy’s waiting, maybe, for the being to spit on him, taunt him, break him apart with his failures.
To end him, the same way he ended Dawn Island.
Instead, his jury’s lips tighten and take on the ghost of something he’d only ever seen on his grandfather’s face. Each particle of light responds, dimming in dissatisfaction. As the brightness fades out, returning to its host, Luffy catches the crinkle of the man’s eyes. A sadistic wrinkle. A pat on the back for a job well done.
“Monsters are best left in the dark after all.”
It echoes inside the room like a knell. Words closing in on Luffy, as though a gate he never noticed was there is being shut.
Turning to leave, the pillar of justice lays a hand on the edge of the opened door. His white cloak resting on broad shoulders sway with the ocean breeze. Splattered red, the words on the back look as though stained by a child just learning to paint. A multitude of crimson handprints mock Luffy in a self-made goodbye, soon to be washed away and ironed out.
“God, Garp, why couldn’t you have just saved us the effort?”
A lock clicks in place. It’s damp, and it's dark; Luffy cannot stop burning.
His father brought him along to see the elusive beast. Dragon’s son, the blood child of the most wanted criminal in the world. And now, they want me to wake the varmint!
Hesitantly, the blonde teen tips a bucket of water over the sleeping body.
Shaking violently, Luffy hacks out liquids and dark clumps. His boot punts itself into Luffy’s stomach.
“Don’t throw up all over my boots, you devil!” screeches the blonde whose purple pampered suit contrasts with the white uniformed men standing behind him. The shadow of an axe looms over his bowl shaped head, and the mechanical click of the man’s irritated jaw is the only warning he gets before he too, is slammed into the wall.
“Fuckin’ complaining over nothing. When are you going to make me proud, Helmeppo?”
Helmeppo drops down onto the boy, ungraceful limbs and joints digging into Luffy’s limp body. Bony ribs bruise his hips and he lets out a whiny moan, complaint dangling on his tongue before violent coughing cuts in—
He screams.
Flailing in a panic, Helmeppo scutters away from the shuddering creature. Pressing himself flat against the wall, eyes wide with a cautionary fear his father never managed to beat out. The suit is wrinkled and damp, with an incredibly uncomfortable itch igniting in his rear from whatever he’s sitting on. Straining once again to cry out, Helmeppo catches the furrow of his father’s brow. But the shadowed sunglasses of the man next to him make him choke.
Right. Dragon’s son is nothing more than an animal locked in a cage. They’ve already chained down the monster, after all.
An arrogant bravado contorts his pompous face, smirking down at the trembling, battered maw. Snivelling, perhaps? The damage sustained from my body slam would surely be reason to fear. Helmeppo juts his chin up, snide remarks circling within his mind.
And Luffy stares, wild and angry.
He screams again.
Pouncing on Helmeppo’s frozen stature, Luffy claws at his lapels and kicks at his shins. Attempting to fight back, Helmeppo’s hands swing aimlessly in the air, hitting nothing.
His lap is empty.
Glancing up, he sees the bastard restrained by the two marine lackeys who were standing by the door. With a tug on his collar, Helmeppo is hoisted into the air. His father’s face glares down on him. Helmeppo decides the floor is more interesting anyways. Squinting down to where he just sat, he sees a mangy bundle of straw, ragged and frayed.
It’s snatched up by the spectacled man, straw muted against the glowing yellow of his suit.
The monster freezes in the marines' grips.
“Play nice, and I’ll give this back. You understand that at least, right?”
He’s like a devil offered a contract, body arching for a fight yet trapped. Complaisant.
A slate jumpsuit is shoved into Helmeppo’s hands and he’s pushed towards Luffy. The marines are already tearing at the dirty singlet and wrecked shorts. Luffy remains wary, eyes fixated on the hat in Kizaru’s hands.
One of the marines is pulling hard at the singlet, ripping the tag off. Multiple names are crossed out, Makino, Ace, leaving only the Luffy legible. His hands tense into fists but his body remains pliant.
Handing over the garb, Helmeppo turns away, glimpsing through his peripheral as they force Luffy into it.
(He tries to ignore the way their hands linger on tanned skin a little too long.)
His father grabs his chin and yanks it in their direction.
“Watch. This is what we do to criminals,” wrings through the spittle of his father’s spite, “to monsters.” Morgan gleams with satisfaction and Helmeppo wonders, if that’s the sort of monster I have to fight to be a good marine then, maybe, I’m not quite cut out for it.
Yet, he feels the tight grip of his father’s hand, not strong enough to bruise, almost comforting; and he remembers why he came along on this visit in the first place.
“Don’t worry, the government’s planning on making an example out of him.” The words slur out of Kizaru, fedora tipped down and covering his eyes.
Helmeppo feels Morgan’s hand clasp onto his shoulder, jolly pats in time with laughter.
“Good, good! It’s getting just what it deserves.”
The other two marines continue to hold tightly onto Luffy, hairy fingers clutching the chains on his wrists. A sweaty palm disappears behind his small back. Another hand rubs Luffy’s shoulder. There’s something greedy in their gaze, lecherous and devoid of morality. Brown eyes twist in discomfort, flickering between the two captors.
Luffy stares right at Helmeppo. He blinks, and Helmeppo thinks that he must’ve imagined the desperation in the demon's eyes. He lets Morgan guide him out towards the deck, Kizaru close behind.
“We’ll be heading back to Shells town now. You’re currently on course for Enies Lobby, aren’t you?”
Gazing towards the sea, Kizaru’s hands trace along the red ribbon of the strawhat. His expression is blank as he responds, “Where else would we take the little devils?”
It’s sarcastic, of course. All marines know that’s where the worst of the worst go. Not the criminals wanted for murder, or the shadows which control the villages from underneath.
No, it’s where traitors that buried themselves deep into the heart of the government go. Where phantoms that dig a little too deep and blood-ridden sins born into eldritch beasts get chained down.
Where those doomed from the start end up.
As Kizaru closes the door, Helmeppo looks back at the black-haired bogeyman and blurts out—
“Give it hell.”
The two marines snicker, a predatory cackle echoing past the closing door. “We shouldn’t have even bothered with the clothes—”.
Helmeppo tries not to imagine what they were saying.
His father ruffles his hair.
Luffy can’t stop scratching at his face.
The dirt under his nails sting the wounds, blooming new marks across his cheeks. He can’t stop his hands. His hands, his hands, his hands—
(Their hands.)
His neck snaps to the only exit in the room.
Luffy begins bashing against the metal door. He rams into it, head-first like a mindless bull. Each slam tears at scabs on his face. He’s sore and swollen all over, bruises littering his body. It had been so easy for them to mark and damage him. For his rubber body to become bloated and purple in ways he’s long forgotten.
The red of angry, gushing wounds is much more preferable.
Gnawing at the cuffs on his wrists, Luffy feels the edges of his lips strain. The corners of his mouth go numb as copper floods his senses. It’s not enough for him.
Luffy goes right back to crashing into the door. Into the walls and the floor. Tearing his skin and stretching himself thin.
Kizaru steps inside, two silver bowls balancing on his fingertips and straw hat dangling from his belt.
Leaping back into a corner, Luffy throws his manacled fists up in defence. Taking in the mangled form of the supposed monster in front of him, Kizaru can only snort in pity.
“It’s useless. What are you trying to prove by hurting yourself?”
“I’m gonna be free!” Luffy hisses out defiantly. But the teetering movements and blood stains around the prison refuse to agree with his statement. In a moment, Kizaru towers over him, a barricade of blistering light.
Luffy stumbles back, but Kizaru grabs him by the tattered jumpsuit.
The fraying buttons fly off, light clinks coupled with the crashing of an empty bowl grate on Luffy’s eardrums. Kizaru hefts Luffy, his other hand still holding onto a gruel-filled dish. He can feel the way Luffy’s body tenses, eyes unable to decide if he should glare at his face or the hand gripping his clothes. Sloshing the bowl lightly, Luffy’s stomach rumbles and a slow smirk grows on Kizaru’s lips.
“Eat, you’re going to need it where you’re going,” flows out of Kizaru, a faint snicker sealing it off.
He spits on him.
Blood lands on stubble and a tooth bounces off his chin. Luffy attempts to grin, almost smarmy had he not believed the blood to be truly flattering on Kizaru.
It’s an ugly thing, Kizaru notes. His lips are busted and ripped, edges rough and unnatural. The lack of teeth add to Luffy’s unappealing shape, crimson rivulets gushing from the gaps. He stares back into Luffy's one good eye, the left covered by a blistered eyelid.
His bravado seems to be faltering, pupils constricting at Kizaru’s unamused face. He lifts Luffy up higher, neck no longer straining down.
“Just open your mouth and eat, no complaints. It'll be much easier for the both of us if you do.” Kizaru doesn’t bother with venom because— and sure enough— the fiend throws his head to the side.
He’s done entertaining him.
He drops Luffy down, letting him scurry back to the corner. His legs almost tripping over themselves, unable to properly stand. Kizaru sees the way Luffy places his weight on the front leg, the heel on his other foot lifted up. The small body tenses, preparing to snap. Luffy bolts forward.
Kizaru slams the gruel in his face.
He follows through with the momentum, shoving Luffy onto his back and keeping the bowl there. Pressing down on the metal, Luffy’s nose squishes underneath it, mush clogging up his lungs. Kizaru pushes down, harder and harder. Chipped nails claw at his hand, legs kicking out wildly. He doesn’t let up, allowing his devil fruit to activate and charge up at his fingertips.
Luffy screams. He stops fighting.
Finally relaxing, Kizaru wipes his palms on the front of his blazer. Five holes now litter the bowl, edges still blazing red and smoke curling upwards. He scratches at his nose, trying to ignore the waft of burnt skin. He didn’t make the lasers too strong. The government would’ve been mad, after all. Need it alive for now.
Kizaru sighs, “And here I wanted to give you a good meal before you go to your new home.”
A blaring horn rings through the enclosure.
“It’s time to go, come on.”
Luffy’s body twitches but he makes no move to get up. Instead, he starts wiggling his body, trying to reach the wall.
Grasping his matted hair, Kizaru drags Luffy upwards. He pulls him towards the door.
Sole eye squinting from the sudden light, Luffy raises a crippled hand to shield himself. Kizaru eases the grip on his hair, instead tugging on the chained cuffs and handing them to the nearest marine. The lackey is wary, faint tremors running through his hand while reaching out for the cuffs. Suddenly, the guard at Luffy's door grabs the chains. Familiar hairy hands pull at Luffy’s wrists like a leash, leading him down the gangway.
Kizaru eyes his rabid state, staggering limbs tight with fanatical alarm. Luffy tries to fling the marine off him, legs pushing off the plank sending him tumbling to the edge. Before he can fall into the water, Kizaru snags his collar. He hangs Luffy above the ocean.
“Let me go!” Luffy unsteadily bites back.
Shaking the persistent demon, Kizaru lowers him down, both faces reflected in the sea. Noticing the glower on Luffy’s face, Kizaru’s lips turn into a scowl. But just as he prepares to reprimand the brute, he spots his frozen horror in the flowing water.
It’s harrowing.
For the first time, Kizaru sees Dragon’s son for what he is. A child.
The boy’s eye scours his reflection, looking for at least one familiar thing. Broken, charred skin; purple, red and black. Shiny burn blisters are scattered all over his features, vesicles prodding out of his flesh and stretching his face into something… uncanny. A choked gasp forces its way out of Luffy’s throat, gargling up from his apparent fear.
A fractured finger traces along the bottom of his left eye. Luffy’s nail digs along the scars and scratches that have shredded into his cheek. In a slow movement, almost like worship, Kizaru observes the way Luffy’s finger follows a u-shaped path.
Tracing back and forth. Back and forth.
Kizaru doesn’t remember what Luffy’s face used to look like. If there was a scar there or if it was smooth elsewhere. But what he stares at the most, is his mouth. Cut up lips prepared to open into an endless maw of hunger.
He’s well and truly, a monster. He’s a—
…
Hoisting Luffy back onto the ground, Kizaru hands him over to the black-suited men at the front. They line Luffy up next to the paralysed woman. Together, they match each other perfectly, statues glazed in dread.
Before Kizaru leaves, he presses up against Luffy’s back. Bending down, whispering right into his ear, “for your last-minute good behaviour.” Kizaru plops the strawhat onto the crown of his head.
Luffy turns around but all that remains are dissipating flares.
It’s been hours since the Cipher Pol agents had chained them to the walls of their new cell.
She glances at the boy next to her. He’s completely unmoving, staring at the ceiling as though it’ll crumble to let him see the sky.
When Kizaru told her that Dragon’s son was going to be her ‘new roommate,’ she expected someone angry, distrustful; someone like her. The child’s head tilts towards her, something soft and desperate in between the scars on his face and maybe— she wasn’t so far off on her assumption.
“Who are you?” he asks. It’s innocent, even as he eyes the matching seastone on her wrists and the face she wears, one that’s been plastered for the whole world to hunt down. There’s an inkling of honesty that’s crawling up her throat, one she believed long forgotten as she stares at the only person who doesn’t seem to care.
“Olvia.” It slides off her tongue so simply.
Her eyes widen for a second, then her expression shutters, returning to its placid gaze. Throat clogging up, she swallows down her loneliness.
Robin thought she was better at lying than this.
Honesty is dangerous, floods Robin’s mind like a mantra, I’m dangerous.
“Olvia. Hmm,” he stares at her with a void gaze, trying to look for whatever she hopes she's hidden. He attempts to smile, mouth contorting oddly and continues, “That’s a pretty name.” She tries to ignore the way her mother’s name makes her suffocate. Robin decides to focus on the fellow devil child instead. He shifts, moving to lean closer to her.
“I’m Monkey D. Luffy,” strains out of him, a lisp stretching out the last parts of his name and fading off into a whisper, “and I’m going to be the King of the Pirates.”
It’s too quiet. Even though she’s never heard him speak, it feels wrong, amiss in the same way her devil fruit scratches underneath her skin, begging to bloom but cannot. Robin wishes he didn’t tell her. Memories of ice and fire carve into her mind, etching over every poneglyph that she has forever doomed herself to remember.
There’s the soft pattering of footsteps and both of them go silent, facing the door.
A stubby man teeters inside. He’s wearing a black suit with a lily stark in his breast pocket. The sleeves are rolled up, showing off tanned, bulky arms that hold onto a silver tray. The goggles on the man’s face are bulbous, magnifying his eyes to the point that he looks like a fantastical bug. He coughs into his hand and both Robin and Luffy flinch at the sound.
“I’m Flour Cecity! Full-time guard here at Enies Lobby but occasional baker on the side. I’m going to be watching over you two, so please take care of me!” exclaims Cecity.
…
Luffy and Robin just stare at the energetic caretaker that they’ve just gained. They look towards each other, faces blank and turn back to the man at the door. Flour Cecity doesn’t notice, instead placing the tray onto the floor. There’s fresh bread, two cups and a pitcher on top.
Robin eyes the golden loaves warily, it’s far too good a meal to be served to prisoners of all things. Especially to ones like them.
“Mr Cecity, how kind of you. I suppose these delicious loaves were made by you?”
He perks up, addressing Robin’s query with such genuinity that she can almost pretend she doesn’t see judgement in his eyes.
“Yes I did, I made them just this morning! There’s plenty for the both of yo—” Cecity’s eyes land on Luffy.
Bug-eyes crinkle in horror as his pudgy face tries to sink into the flabs on his neck. Luffy’s salivating, blood and saliva dripping down his chin like a feral beast. Taking his eye off the food, Luffy peers up and is met with Cecity’s utter repulsion.
Robin doesn’t stop staring at the guard. Reflected in his glasses is Luffy, face tilted to hide the left side of his face as he tries to avoid Cecity’s scrutiny. It makes Luffy look so small.
Slowly, Cecity reaches for the food, not allowing himself to break eye contact.
“Ahem, Mr Cecity, would you please tell us what you’ve brought us today?” Robin prods.
Snapping out of his stupor, he turns back to Robin, pouring water out of the pitcher and into one of the cups.
“Ah, of course. It’s some simple dinner rolls and water for the two of you. Here, Devil Child,” Cecity says, placing two rolls and a full cup in front of her.
“And for the Demon’s Son,” he repeats the process. After placing the food in front of them, Cecity heads over to the levers next to the door and pulls two down. It takes a couple minutes, but soon the clanking of gears can be heard from behind them. The chains which connect them to the wall begin to elongate.
Reaching for the food, Luffy scarfs it down immediately. The bread catches in his neck, and he gulps the water to push it down. Robin can’t help the light giggle that passes through her lips and he looks at her, friendly.
Flour stands there, watching them eat with an odd pride. Taking in the way Luffy devours his bread, crumbs scattering all over the floor. He notices the straw hat bouncing on Luffy’s back as he tries to push the bread down his throat.
“Oh, what a nice hat! My younger sister happens to wear one just like that,” Cecity points out with delight. His mind wanders, memories seemingly playing in front of him.
Robin decides to ask, “Your sister?”
“Flower Cecity,” he pats his breast pocket, lily flouncing around, “She runs a flower farm next to my flour farm. Flower and all her fellow followers wear floppy hats like that one to protect from nasty sunburns.”
Flour Cecity’s happiness from mentioning his sister is undeniable, expression lighting up and grin overtaking him. Face shifting into a pitiful mirage of Cecity’s, the tight skin on Luffy’s cheeks seem to burn and his scars open up in longing. He tilts his head back, letting the straw hat lean over his face.
She looks away, glancing down at the bread in her palm. Robin eats.
“—via. Olvia!”
Robin jolts, staring at Luffy in confusion.
“You’re really bad at responding to your own name, huh?”
She tries not to look away, avoiding even the possible chance that he’ll sense something is off with her. Rather, Robin gives him a practised smile, the one reserved for persistent flunkeys of whichever organisation she’s currently in. As of late, she’s had billions of opportunities to use it.
“Sorry, Mr Luffy, were you saying something?”
“Stop with that ‘Mr’ stuff, just call me Luffy,” he responds. A despondent turn of his mouth follows, “you’re the only person that probably will.” There’s a bitter tinge on the tip of her tongue.
“Okay then, Luffy.”
He looks at her, mottled face unable to properly express anything. But somehow, Robin can feel the affirming joy radiating off him.
She discreetly raises up her hand to smooth down the oncoming grin.
Robin can’t afford to make any attachments right now. She had been guaranteed a poneglyph in Alabasta and under no circumstance is she going to miss it. Enies Lobby is going to be her toughest escape yet, but there is no reason to make it harder for herself. Turning away from Luffy, she focuses on the levers at the front of their cell.
When Cecity had lengthened their chains, he pulled the left one down first then the right, Luffy’s and Robin’s manacles extending respectively. It was delayed, the gears clunky and loud as though rusty from a period of disuse— though most likely, it’s the opposite. It’s been used far too much.
Peering through the small window in the door, she spots the shadow of someone standing guard outside. It begins to move, now overtaking the little light entering their cell.
Boisterous knocks rattle their chains as teasing laughter echoes inside.
“Oi, whadda we ‘ave here? Couple of hellhounds thinking they can have a nice chat, eh?”
The door bursts open, his deep, snarky voice becoming clearer to Robin. A large marine flunkey enters. Body clumpy and shaggy, the man overshadows both Luffy and Robin’s sitting frames. He pauses, eyeing Robin in her jumpsuit. A sly grin slowly forms on his face, leaning back to rest an arm on the wall—
The marine accidentally presses on one of the many levers, slipping down and hitting his head on the concrete. A trapdoor opens up above him, dropping down… flour?
“Wow, you’re an idiot, huh?” Luffy states.
Robin smothers her laughter, instead coughing into her palm. They both stare at the fallen marine, watching blood seep out from under him. Robin notices the glint of gold in the man’s pocket, a round piece that looks like the bow of a key.
Abruptly, the man stands up and strides over to Luffy. He strikes his cheek with the back of his hand. Robin stops, staring at Luffy’s blank face. She watches the way his lips curl, broken teeth jutting out of his mouth. Luffy whips his head to the guard and Robin thinks that he might lash out.
His eyelid flutters rapidly. Something fearful and familiar frosting over the minute rage he had. The guard stares curiously. Luffy cannot take his eye off his bushy knuckles.
She coughs again and the bloodied, powdered man turns towards her. With his gaze off him, Luffy shakes himself out of the haze and focuses on Robin instead. There’s still a scared look to him as he stares at her.
“What? Gonna apologise for not helping me up, pretty girl?” the lackey teases.
Feeling Luffy’s eyes on her, she tilts to her raised arms, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m quite unable to.” Robin shakes her shackled wrists.
Face turning red, the grunt stomps over to Robin and grabs her by the chin. Sharp clanging of Luffy’s chains reverberates with the guttural speech spat out.
“I can think of other parts that are very able to assist me darlin’.”
“Keep your hands off her! You, you—”
And as Robin stares at the marine, blood pooling together in the fat rolls of his pale skin and white dust sprinkled on top, she knows exactly what Luffy must be thinking.
“Jelly Roll,” Robin helpfully supplies.
“You Jelly Roll!"
Jelly Roll throws his hands up, sputtering annoyance and spit from his flapping lips. Stomach bouncing around, blood splattering everywhere as he can’t decide who he’s more irritated at. With a huff, Jelly Roll begins trodding over to the door.
The footsteps slow down as he approaches the exit. Spinning around on one foot, he smugly leers as he comments to Robin, “Well, you know who ta’ call if you want some.” Winking at her, he leans back and— flips down a bunch of levers as he rolls onto the ground once more.
Jumping up, face pudgy and red, he stampedes towards the assortment of switches. Jam pours out from the side, bread crumbs start spitting from the ceiling, eggs start flinging from who knows where; Luffy is trying to eat as much as he can. Jelly Roll is flickering all the levers up and down in outrage, jumbling up the coherency until he hears the familiar clunking of gears. In a panic, Jelly Roll begins flipping all the switches up again, head desperately swivelling to make sure Robin and Luffy aren’t getting close.
Blindy flicking a switch up, the sound stops. Luffy and Robin are still pulled up against the wall, chains short and ungiving.
Glancing down at his messy uniform, the marine finally walks out the exit, not bothering to look back at the prisoners.
Light giggles grab Robin’s attention. Luffy’s shoulders are shaking, laughter slipping past his chapped lips. Grotesque and awkward features forming the undeniable shape of friendship. Robin tilts her head to where the sky would be, ignoring the way her stomach is dissolving her heart.
She failed to realise that she was laughing too.
He’s chattier now, Robin muses, noticing the way Luffy’s body slowly gravitates in her direction.
Everytime he asks her a question, she answers and the conversation naturally spirals.
Robin had begun telling him of the history of jelly rolls, how it’s theorised to have evolved from a sponge cake, and there’s just appreciation. There’s awe in his eye, the gashes on his mouth stretching upwards in a way that must be painful but he does so regardless. The conversation moves on, it moves on and on; Robin cannot stop her knowledge from running free with Luffy as her audience.
He’s sitting there, soaking up history.
His head begins to lull to the side, eyelid drooping down, all the while Robin feels exhaustion fuzz her brain. Mouth still moving, Robin cannot hear the words that tumble out of her. Her throat aches.
She lets the sounds flow, a bitter and croaky lullaby.
With exuberant flair, Flour Cecity twirls himself into the cell. Balancing upon his head is a platter, the sickly-sweet scent of strawberry burning into Robin’s nose.
A heavy grumble suddenly erupts.
Turning to Luffy, Robin sees the way he tries to curl in, knees pressing into the hollow space underneath his ribs. She feels softness edge into her lips, a simple smile given to Luffy involuntarily. There’s the quiet cry of bending metal, Cecity’s fingers digging into the tray in his hands. The gleeful look doesn’t leave his face, but his eyes appear larger than usual. An odd silence fills the room.
Quickly placing the tray down, Robin notices the swirly sponges of jam and cake.
“I took some inspiration from the incident—” Cecity turns to glare at the guard outside, “—a while back, and put those ingredients to use.”
“Oh, for Jelly Roll out there. What generosity, Mr Cecity, to bring our guard some companions.” Out of the corner of her eye, Luffy slowly begins to unfurl. His muscles are twitchy, threatening to curl back in as Jelly Roll starts spitting insults from beyond the wall. Nonetheless, Luffy returns to a slouched position, eyeing the food desperately.
Cecity prepares a plate and walks up to Luffy. Luffy’s swollen eyelid twitches, trying to soften itself to some semblance of surprise. It’s the first time he’s chosen to serve Luffy before Robin but Cecity’s eyes are focused on the plate in his hand.
The blistered eyelid refuses to heal, just like the rest of Luffy’s face. His burns still seem to rage with small droplets of pus spattered across. With some luck, his right eye has remained untouched and his lips still move. Watching the plate be put down, Luffy shimmies in his spot. His head tilts as he looks at the signature lily curiously.
Moving on quickly, another plate is filled and Cecity is bending down when Luffy speaks up.
“Your flower smells fresher than usual,” he notes.
It’s impressive that he can smell it at all, Robin would’ve thought that a nose that crook would be unusable. That all he would smell is his own charred odour.
Perking up, Cecity responds, “Why, yes! My sister came to visit with some of her workers and gave me another.”
Tilting her head, Robin allows her tone to replicate casual interest. “How sweet. It must be hard, being unable to see her often since you work here. I do hope you get to spend as much time with her as possible.”
Cecity seems to take it as genuine interest, adding a spark to his movements. He enthusiastically replies, “I plan to, especially since she’s leaving tonight!”
“Oh, when?”
“Just after midnight.”
Even with the small portion received, Luffy pats his belly. It’s slightly rotund as the skin of his stomach distends uncomfortably. Robin couldn’t finish her plate, instead pocketing the remaining jelly roll into her jumpsuit.
With a huff, Luffy collapses on his back and Robin snaps her head towards him.
“Goodnight Olvia.”
She lets the tension bleed from her shoulders but her hands remain fisted. Cecity looks over at her in confusion, but keeps quiet. Packing up the trays and cups, Cecity reaches out for the levers on the wall.
Robin calls out to him and he pauses.
“Mr Cecity, would you please leave my chains down for a bit? I have to go take a bathroom break.”
“Alright then, Guard! Make sure to pull up both their chains when it’s done, okay?”
“Yes, sir!”
The guard steps back inside, hand reaching towards the levers on the wall. He pulls up Luffy’s one but just as he reaches for Robin’s—
“That’s the wrong one, Jelly Roll. But if you want to repeat the last time, go ahead.”
“I knew that!” And he turns back, hesitant on which one he should be pulling.
Robin points towards the lever which had released eggs last time. As he tugs on the switch, everything is quiet. Then, the whirring and clanging of gears slowly pulls Luffy’s sleeping body.
Robin simply walks back to the wall.
Jelly Roll leaves without checking anything.
She waits.
It’s dim, with a faint light seeping through the door. At this moment, Robin can almost imagine the warmth of Saul’s hands. The thought eats away at the chill on her skin. She shakes her head, eyes falling onto Luffy.
His trust is misplaced, aimed at the facade that Robin wears. False, in the same way her mother’s name is all Luffy knows her by. Wrong, in the way ‘Olvia’ rolls off his tongue with a familiarity Robin never learnt.
He is so warm. But in the cold emptiness of this cell, Robin cannot hesitate.
She reaches over, hands patting Luffy’s head.
Standing guard, Jelly Roll stares at the uneven brick layers in front of him. He can barely keep his head up, sleep weighing down his eyes and exhaustion seeping into his pants.
Subconsciously, his hands guide down to their usual pastime, fitting the curve of his erection. He lets his mind go slacker than usual, fantasising of any hot women he can think of.
He can almost hear the moans of his imaginary woman. Like it's echoing from behind him.
Pausing in his ministrations, the cheap porn playing in his mind stops too. But the moans do not.
Turning to the cell behind him, Jelly Roll stares in amazement. He smirks.
Knocking softly on the door, he calls out “Need some help in there, sweetheart?”
She pauses, then a quiet yes reaches his ears.
He opens the door silently, already reaching to unbuckle his pants. He looks at the wall where Robin should be chained.
It's empty. Except for the holes where the manacles extend, trailing closer and closer towards him—
He's attacked from behind. A strong clutch suffocating him.
Robin carefully drops the guard onto the floor, reaching in his pocket.
Flour Cecity walks solemnly down the hall, his lily wilting alongside him. He misses his dear sister already, leaving sighs in every lonely crevice in the walls.
He fails to notice the hurried footsteps coming towards him, crashing into the figure and sending them tumbling. Cecity reaches out, offering a hand to the blurry individual.
As the person stands, a crackle of glass forces them to pause. A light voice begins apologising profusely.
“I'm so sorry, Mister! Didn't mean to break your glasses!” the woman exclaims.
Waving a hand in her direction, Flour Cecity takes in the fuzzy silhouette. She’s quite tall, trailing up and up as he lands on—
“Ah! My sister’s leaving soon, Miss, you better hurry and go on.”
“You wouldn't happen to know where to go would you? I got lost ‘round this place.”
“Right back there.” Pointing the opposite direction from where he was walking, the lady grabs his hands and begins shaking them.
“Thank you, Mister! You have all my gratitude.” Her flowery words and slight strawberry scent makes him think of the fields back home. Before he can reply, she runs off, leaving him to pick up his broken glasses.
He continues walking, immediately back to lamenting his sister's departure.
Returning to his room for the night, Cecity ponders what he should make the devil children in the morning.
Before the sun rises, an alarm blares through Enies Lobby. The guards on patrol came across Jelly Roll slumped in front of the cell door. His lackadaisical nature made this a typical sight, yet when they tried to wake him up, they failed, spotting the ring of bruises on his neck.
He was strangled to death, the key was stolen and worst of all; the Devil Child, Nico Robin, was nowhere to be found.
Thus leading to Cecity's current predicament: interrogation.
Flour Cecity cannot recall meeting Nico Robin at any point since dinner yesterday. Too engrossed with his farewell, helping his sister and her helpers prepare for departure. All the while, he still has no replacement for his goggles.
Reciting all of that, he mentions the lost farmhand he assisted.
The interrogator exploded.
“That was obviously Nico Robin, you blind buffoon!”
“But she looked just like someone who would work on my sister’s farm. Especially with that—”
“—hat…. no, no, no! My hat! WHERE DID IT GO? NO, NO, NO, WHERE IS IT?”
Luffy wails. He thrashes against his chains, battering his head into the wall. It's noisy, messy and erratic. He cannot control himself and his face stings. His body seems to burn as he faces the ceiling and cries.
Robin stares at the sky.
She's hollow, a familiar and practised emptiness that she thought she had perfected. Luffy— Luffy, she tries not to think about him. About his blisters, his kindness and his presence like the sun.
And as dawn approaches, the light causes her to burn.
She clutches onto the straw brim, tugging it down.
They’ve become cautious. Slop is forced down his throat and he’s lost the ability to piss in peace. Luffy doesn't know where Cecity has gone and it’s so quiet now without Olvia— no, Robin.
Robin, Robin, Robin. Free, free, Robin.
Luffy’s hands dangle above him, no longer able to claw at his scalp. To bash, pull and beat and beat and beat and beat.
His hat is gone. Robin too. Luffy is left grasping at the straws of her gentle smile, her words, her stories and her lies. Luffy quickly swallows the bitter taste on his tongue. She was is kind.
She may have lied about her name but there was something delicate and loving about the way she said ‘Olvia’. Something vulnerable and reaching. Maybe that's what makes her so easy to forgive.
She is a bundle of lies and deceit and selfishness. She is raw and sweet and full of desperate hope. She has a dream, whispered to Luffy the night before she left.
Luffy is— truly— happy for Robin. She's his friend, after all.
He lets the few affectionate memories distract from the aching limbs and the cold walls. It fills his brain, fuzzy and heavy, weaving into a makeshift helmet.
It’s not heavy enough.
The cuffs chafe around Luffy’s wrist with each tug. Marines drag him down a bland hallway, surrounding Luffy from all around.
They push him into a brightly lit office. Rays of sunlight rest on the back of a lavender-haired man finishing up a call. He’s scrawny and tall, thin arms covered in a matching purple blouse. His face is a mismatch of bronze plates and screws, tacky like the rest of him.
“Purple-coward number 2!”
Slowly easing the shell receiver down, Spandam tilts his head over to Luffy.
“Eh? This is the brat everyone’s making such a fuss about?” Lips curling in disgust, he spits onto the floor and leans in close. Rubbing at his chin, Spandam’s mouth begins to widen, light giggles seeping out. Body shaking violently, his laughter crescendos until he’s manically laughing, arms spread out in glee.
“I did it! I caught the Demon’s Son! Gosh, I’m great,” still smiling, Spandman gestures to the guards holding Luffy.
“Go on, we gotta put on a good performance for Dragon. You know what to do. Torture!”
With an irritated rattle at his handcuffs, Luffy mocks, “Huh? You didn’t do anything! I just met you and now you’re not even torturing me yourself.”
A soft, snide remark escapes one of the detainers’ mouths “Yeah, you even let the Devil Child get away—”.
Bang.
The marine drops to the floor.
Huffing, Spandam holds a gun up with shaky arms, face twitching in irritation. He begins pointing his arms to Luffy and the other marines, jumping target sporadically.
“Do any of you have more to say? No? That’s what I thought.” Hands running through his hair, head thrown back in confidence, Spandam boasts, “We’ve got the one that really matters, here.”
With an arrogant huff, he continues “besides, Nico Robin is a monster that doesn’t deserve to exist. She’ll fall sooner or later, whether by our hands or her own.”
“You don’t get to say that about people! And she’s not a monster, she escaped because she wanted to live!”
“Yeah? And what does that say about you?” Frustration begins leaking out of Spandam’s voice, blood rushing to his face. Balling up the front of Luffy’s shirt, he presses his face close. The coolness from his metallic nose doesn’t distract Luffy from his next words.
“If she wanted you to live then she would’ve taken you with her.”
“...What?”
Luffy, aiming to headbutt him, freezes. Spandam throws a flimsy punch but it’s enough to toss Luffy onto the ground.
Pressing his shoe into the welts of Luffy’s face, he pops open the multitude of blisters. “Bastard! You should’ve never been born.”
Strutting back to his desk, the chief of Cipher Pol 9 waves his hand in a biding motion. A spare lackey brings a glass of water and medical supplies, already dabbing at the small dent in his forehead. With a flick of his chin, he speaks.
“Go.”
A different pair of agents grab Luffy, dragging him down a completely foreign hallway. His breath stutters, lungs having difficulty breathing with the thick, cloying scent of aged rust suffocating him.
Luffy’s not sure he’s prepared.
Lashes flay open his back. Spittle and grunts are forced past grit teeth. Luffy doesn’t know how long he’s been hanging here for.
“Got enough?”
With a soft click, the agent behind the visual den den mushi nods his head. A hand suddenly grips Luffy’s chin, forcing him to face the bloodied sadist behind him. A lofty mass of hot pink leather, adorned with frills and straps crossing her torso hovers over him.
Gloved thumb sliding over his cheek, the torturer salaciously whispers, “Don’t think we’re done yet, after all—”, she digs her thumb into the wretched socket of Luffy’s left eye "—we can’t allow any room for doubt, can we?”
Luffy wriggles his head, body jolting as the woman doesn’t stop jabbing her thumb around. The nails underneath the glove protrude out, digging under the scabbed areas and searing the open wounds with cold air. It appears she’s fascinated by the soft squish, prodding deeper until her thumb pops out from his nostrils.
She slides her hand back out, shedding the glove to don on a new pair. It drops onto the dozens of other gloves previously stained.
Thrumming her nails on the stained skin of her face, she tilts her head side to side. “What to do, what to do,” tumbles out softly from her lips.
The pink leathered hand traces on Luffy's fingers, “We could send a digit, be traditional.”
“But then again,” she sighs, fingers twisting the exposed crooked bones, “none of them are in good enough condition.”
Poking at his right iris, Luffy tries to shut his eyelid but the flesh simply parts around her finger. “Maybe something more recognisable,” her cheeks stretch thin, twinkling eyes peeking through her bangs. He can’t stop her, the pressure on his eye slowly increasing. It feels like it’s going to explode, as though a permanent crater is forming in its centre. A delicate tap and she retracts, “but it’s more fun if you get to watch.”
The clicking of stilettos echoes around him. She’s everywhere.
He breathes harshly, trying to focus but every movement reawakens each ache. One breath and more blood drips from the wounds on his body. A heartbeat and the pulse pounds at his migraine. Chains rattle and his shoulders strain from swaying.
Leather palming at his nape, Luffy’s shoulder blades roll in. Raking her nails down the curvature of his spine, his back tenses, tremoring lightly. With each bump, she digs into that little space between the vertebrae, skin and nerves wedging in.
Each pinch travels through his body; white, hot flashes traversing his veins.
“This… this would be beautiful.”
Her fingers climb up the demented spinal ladder she created then glides back down. She repeats the process, lost in the movements of playing with her flesh guiro.
“And that’s how you killed the last person. Come on, just pick a limb and let’s go,” interrupts the other agent, snail already sleeping and tucked underneath his arm.
“Don’t ruin the fun~,” but she reaches out nonetheless and picks a joint.
Luffy can’t stop her. His left shoulder begins to crumple underneath her fingers.
Her grip gets tighter and tighter. She’s pulling slowly and steadily. Giddy, like she’s got the sweetest taffy in her hands.
His skin gets thinner, the brightness of her gloves peeking out from the other side.
A ligament snaps. Smaller snaps follow in quick succession.
He’s pulled taut. He’s stretching and stretching and stretching.
She pulls. Just a little more.
Luffy’s shoulder joint springs back, shredded muscle dripping with blood dangling from it.
His body limply hangs and Luffy— Luffy doesn’t—
Unshackling his left arm, she dangles the torn muscle above. Tongue sticking out, she lets the trickle of blood fall onto her taste buds, moaning. She laps at the meat, teeth nipping at the strands hanging out, hooking one with her fang and pulling at the string of muscle.
Slurping in the flesh, lips smacking together staining them a dark grenadine. She leans in, her other hand coming to cradle the elbow and guide it into her mouth. Relishing in the freshness of the bone, gulping down and imbibing herself with the mix of marrow and fluid.
Luffy watches, dazed.
She glances over to him, giggling sheepishly. “Oops, almost ruined the gift!”
He languidly blinks, a pout forms on her face but she continues on.
“For your daddy,” wrapping it in a cushioned cardboard box, she ties on an extravagant pink bow on top, “from his beloved, little monster.”
Pressing the parcel up to Luffy’s lips, she teases a goodbye kiss with a loud mwah and struts out.
“See you soon, darling!”
He turns his head, little by little, to the place where his arm was. A gift. A sacrifice, for someone he doesn’t even know.
His father is not worth this.
The guards stand outside, hushed whispers entering the cell.
“Any response yet?”
“Nothing, absolute radio silence from Dragon, the attacks have still been going on.”
Her stilettos gradually get quieter, a trail of red marking where she’d been.
“Little Sadi’s been quite excited this past while hasn’t she?”
“No surprise, considering all the fun she’s getting.”
It’s getting harder to hear them, a burning fuzziness resting underneath Luffy’s skin, blistering at his left shoulder.
It’s hot. The spikes tear at his sides.
He tries to move his left arm, reaching for his hat to cool him down.
Luffy’s not quite sure why he can’t.
It’s a glass whip. It’s a nailed bat.
It’s spiked gloves and Luffy feels so young.
She’s punching, hands coated in black and bruises follow after.
Luffy doesn’t remember when he started crying. Her nails squeeze his neck.
Fingers dig into his open shoulder.
He’s so tired of hands.
Metal on his tongue, sweat and tears dry on his skin. Luffy feels sticky, burning from wounds and lashes, from old bear gashes.
He wants his brother.
Yearning for Ace to bring water from the river they bathed in. A gentle hand to his aches. A rough voice to his loneliness. He remembers their arguments. Shouting about chains and fathers. About Roger.
Luffy never understood why Ace hated him, but at least Roger was dead.
The guards are still chittering outside, “Do you think he’s begging to die yet?”
“Hah! He should’ve been begging since birth, apologising for even being born!”
Something about that made him want to scream. Something feral, brutal, and mean.
“You’ve been coming in less.”
The guards nod at the hot pink sadist in pity. “...It’s getting boring, isn’t it?”
“He doesn’t scream much, I want a bit more flavour, more change.”
“I think that demon will be getting a change soon enough.”
Sadi looks over in confusion.
“There’s been absolutely nothing, Dragon doesn’t care.”
Chipping in from his partner’s remark, the other guard snorts, “That’s fine, I preferred Plan B anyway.”
It’s sunny. Soft and inviting, Luffy can’t help but tilt his face up to the sky.
The hands on his chains are light, setting a gentle pace as they walk down the cobblestone. Shadows envelope him from the tall agents escorting him down. Their blank faces crack slightly with every glance towards Luffy. He brushes an arm against one of them, the escorter flinches away, rubbing harshly at the stain left from that short contact.
Waves crash against the walls, the wind humming in Luffy’s ears and the sun dampens just a bit. Luffy tries to smile. One of the marines retches. Another threatens to throw himself off the ship.
Tilting his head up and up, the marine ship dwarfs the squadron accompanying Luffy. There’s a plethora of figures moving about. The gangplank gets lowered and Luffy gets hauled up.
Round and round the chains go, locking the devil in place. A nasty thing, covered in bulging sores, yellowing masses and charcoaled edges.
Drenched in spit and hot drinks, torn clothes and reopened wounds.
“Who wants the first watch?”
An old man, marine uniform sagging like his skin, walks up. Hanging on his arm is a youthful fellow, supporting his partner to the front of the ship.
They stop in front of Luffy, facing the metal chair which clings to his skin and eyes the chains which tie him down. Something about the pair makes Luffy squint.
Raising a wrinkled hand, sunlight glowing through the elder’s flesh, he slashes down.
“WOAH, HEY!”
The infections open up, secreting yellowish-green matter. Luffy’s flailing, trying to cool down the burning. Arm shooting out again, the old marine digs his gangly fingers into Luffy’s jaw. Yanking his lips, tugging at his teeth. He’s screeching at Luffy, filth and agony spilling out.
“Why are you still alive, huh?! My granddaughter was on Dawn Island, and she died because of you! And yet here you are, still kicking!”
Surrounding marines have already begun to pull him back, but with surprising strength the grandfather charges onward. Uncoordinated and wild, he punches and claws at every speckle of flesh he can reach.
“Why was your life worth hers?!” He’s bawling, snot flying onto Luffy’s face, “Why was your life worth all of their deaths!”
They’ve begun dragging him away, but his wails simply get louder. Luffy can feel the sting of bile rising into his throat.
Harsh light suddenly attacks his eye, the young marine that accompanied the old man stepping to the side. Greasy blonde hair and bloodshot eyes, positioned at Luffy’s side, he stares at the bow of the ship.
Jostling with the ship, Luffy’s chains sear into his skin, heated up from the overbearing sun. Anchor risen, the vessel tilts as it heads towards a foggy apparition of the World Government logo.
It’s a metal monolith. A fine line splitting the symbol down the centre, Luffy and the marine stare up at it. Maybe it’s the sweltering heat, but the image feels as though it’s imprinting itself into Luffy’s eyelids. Scorching a dooming presence into his very soul. The blonde, however, feels unnaturally calm.
The gates begin to open and the marine’s cold voice rings out.
“You know, I remember you just being the boy from Makino’s bar. A little weird, came out of nowhere but a good kid nonetheless.”
Luffy digs his nails tightly into his palms, facing forward. His lungs stutter.
“Who knew you’d be our ruin?” He barks out a mocking laugh, “Harbouring a criminal— what a joke. If we knew what we were getting ourselves into…”
Ignoring the melting sensation of his back, Luffy sinks further into the chair.
The marine pauses, glancing at Luffy’s pathetic figure and continues on, “It doesn’t even end here, they won’t stop until all of us are punished for your sins.”
“Me and the old man, we’re not safe, either.” Luffy thinks of his own grandfather. He doesn’t want to know his part in this.
Palm slapping onto his left shoulder, a yelp of pain shoots out.
The ship glides past the barrier.
“We’re being punished for being ‘traitors’. His hand digs in more, forcing Luffy to blink back tears. “Oh, we’re going to suffer alright. And then, we’re going to join the rest of our family in this big fucking joke that you’ve made out of us.”
“Was it funny, knowing that you get to drag all of us down with you?”
Makino, Woop Slap, Dadan, Foosha Village, the bandits. Everyone.
“Or did you not even think of them till now?”
Luffy can't breathe.
A bell rings out, clanging loudly as the slow creaks of the gates signal it’s closing.
He slips his hand off Luffy’s shoulder, returning to face the sea. A beautiful dark blue meeting the crisp sky in a picturesque view. Luffy can barely register the despairing acceptance on the marine’s face through his blurred eye.
“After all this—”
Luffy’s whole body is boiling, blood bubbling and drying him out from the inside.
”—do you think you deserve to live?”
The gates finally close.
Luffy remains quiet.
So, so quiet.
(He never answers.)
It’s a quick stop at Impel down.
Sadi leads the two other people from Dawn Island into the building. The blonde never takes his eyes off Luffy as he walks in, holding tightly onto the old man.
Luffy will not look away.
He cannot.
“It’s your fault. You better remember that up to the moment you die.
And when you reach hell? Beg.”
So many marines fill in the plaza of Marineford, all glancing up at the large bundle of sticks and twigs piled up at the stand. The den den mushi expands this image on screens all around them, projecting it to even the holiest of lands. Lavish tables full of lobster and cake all prepared for the occupants of Marijoa to feast upon, with the most wonderful entertainment before them.
A setup for a bonfire, and in the middle, a decrepit body. Already burned over and over again, an unnaturally three-limbed creature with one eye and leaking holes. A monster of lumpy skin and bloated extremities. Something inhuman is tied to the stake.
Gagging noises and snarls ring throughout Marineford. Celestial Dragons throw their food at the screen, booing and screaming in fear.
The one eye, swollen and weeping, fixates itself to the brightest light on the horizon.
Jests and insults, cheers and songs sung of old navy tales bundle together in a buzzing cacophony. From a distance, way up in the sky, it can be mistaken for a dissonant sea, angry and mournful.
A harsh static echoes around.
“We are here today, to fulfill our duty as marines. To protect the people and serve justice.”
They roar out, encouraging the man who stands at the top, to continue. He and Luffy are illuminated by the rising sun, gentle oranges bringing out their worst features.
“To prevent mayhem, to stop the future from being ruined at the hands of revolution we are executing,” he pauses, staring at the same spot that Luffy is and makes sure that both their chins rest high, “The son of the most wanted criminal in the world, the Demon’s Son, Luffy.”
Just Luffy. His last name, omitted in one final bid of pity to an old companion. Dressed in an opulent suit, golden frills and medals hanging off it, Sengoku stands tall as he condemns his friend’s grandson to death.
Raving down below, the party has begun all around. It’s a spectacle only blessed for the most privileged to see. Marines, agents, nobles, and gods all watch the show live. The world; the sea, wind and sky, mourn with the kindest of touches. A dulcet breeze, a mellow heat and soothing waves join together for one final goodbye.
The people, civilians and family alike, will learn only of the justice served on this day.
Jumping off the platform, Sengoku lands with a quiet thud and raises a flaming torch with his hand. The nearby marines raise their own in course.
With one final cheer, “For justice!” They throw their flames to the base of the wooden stand.
It travels rapidly, a rushing inferno climbing higher and higher into the brightening sky. A loud crackle, the flames jumping out as it reaches the bottom of the stake.
It erupts into a blazing ball of light.
The snapping of wood, popping and sizzling take over the party. It’s overbearingly hot. There is nothing else to hear but the roaring blaze, the monster does not scream. It does not cry.
It burns copper and gold, mimicking the rising beams on the horizon. As the sun finally levels with it, the bonfire gives one last spark. A massive flame turning white, wonderfully unforgettable. The marines do not look away, even as the sweat builds up, it’s the most awe-inspiring sight they’ve ever seen.
It is a supernova.
It is victory.