_{(DISCLAIMER: Note that this story will be incorporating some fanon abilities and characterization details for some of the characters. Generally the goal was to keep things in line with the three series while taking some creative liberties when appropriate, for the sake of an entertaining narrative. So please do not expect everything to be strictly 100% canon-compliant. Of course, it was still important to us that we stay in line with the characters as they are established. Basically, just have fun with it!)}

Chapter 2

“The Only Thing Necessary”

_{(Chapter art by Anfang)}

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[BEGIN REPORT #16-1-18-20-20-23-15]

<sub>User: XXXXXX
Date: 03/19/2025
Time: 12:36 PM

The anomaly lasted for 122 hours and 4 minutes in total before we were able to successfully penetrate the shroud. XXXXXXXXXX has managed to reestablish communication with the subjects, and we have resumed normal operations.

Thanks to data extracted from the XXXXXX, we will be able to ensure that all incidents that have taken place in the interim are logged in the greatest detail possible. As the project’s overseer, I will of course take full responsibility for this lapse. This is of course an unprecedented situation, but it will allow us to be prepared for any similar incidents in the future.</sub>

[END REPORT #16-1-18-20-20-23-15]

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[Marine Headquarters – 7:46 AM]

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz………

The golden light of the early morning streamed in through the window of Marine Headquarters. Buggy the Clown stirred softly in his sleep, turning over in bed and burying himself further into his pillow, a blissful smile on his face. 

What a nice… lovely… lazy morning…

Bang!

The doors to his sleeping quarters slammed open, and Buggy bolted upright with a shriek, arms flailing wildly as they detached from his body. The newly-awakened jester seemed stuck somewhere between fight and flight as he struggled to reorient himself, his gaze turning toward the source of the sudden disturbance.

Standing in the door, with dark circles under his eyes, unruly hair, and more stubble than usual on his chin, a thoroughly exhausted-looking Trafalgar Law glowered at Buggy. From his slovenly appearance, it looked like Law had spent the entire night patrolling.

“You. Clown. Meeting. Now.”

Law turned on his heel and slouched out of the room, clearly in no mood to have a more extended conversation. Buggy stared after him, blinking owlishly, before leaping into action and shouting after him, teeth appearing to sharpen cartoonishly in his disgruntled anger.

“WELL, GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO, BUDDY!”

Halfway down the hallway, Law pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, doing his best to rub the tiredness from his eyes. He had no time for the clown’s antics, but he had to at least make a show of being a team player. Otherwise…

As he shoved open the doors to the meeting room with his shoulder, the Warlords within turned to acknowledge his presence. “Hawk-Eyes” Mihawk at the head of the table. As usual. Meanwhile, Hancock and Jinbe stood off to the side. Before Law’s entrance, Jinbe had been cheerfully coddling Hancock’s snake, Salome, judging by how it was rubbing against him like some sort of cat.

“Morning, Trafalgar!” Jinbe greeted cheerfully. “An uneventful patrol, I presume?”

“That scientist from the northeast is still scurrying around the giant’s body,” Law grunted, taking care to avoid calling the man by his name, although he knew it. “No sign of any northwesterners. Observation’s still on the fritz. Stealthy as usual.”

“And you still cannot tell what that scientist is up to?” Hancock inquired, Salome curling around her body as she rubbed its snout.

Law scoffed.

“No. I’d have better luck understanding one of Buggy’s jokes.”

As if on cue, the clown burst through the door, zipping up his pants as though he’d just put them on as he dashed down the hallway. 

“S-Sorry I’m late, Hawk-Eyes,” he panted, scurrying over to a chair and snapping a salute as he solely addressed the man at the head of the room. “Someone,” he glared at Law, who didn’t bother meeting his gaze, “didn’t wait up for me.”

Mihawk didn’t acknowledge Buggy’s apology; his piercing gaze was fixed on Law. Law stared back impassively, squashing down any unease at having Mihawk’s attention on him. He found Mihawk a bit disconcerting; with those eyes, far sharper than a hawk’s, it sometimes felt like the man could see right through him and examine every last thought leaving his head.

But he couldn’t. Law was sure of that. If he could, they most definitely would not be sitting together at the same table.

“You’ve been out all night,” Mihawk spoke calmly. “Surely you were doing more than just watching the scientist scamper around?”

“Yeah,” Law replied evenly, allowing no unease to filter into his voice. “I was searching for the other four.”

It was a practiced line. Law had known that he would be questioned further and that his initial report would be considered insufficient. It was simply a matter of responding appropriately.

Mihawk leaned forward further in his chair, his gaze appearing all the more intense as he did so.

“And what do you have to report?”

Law was silent for a moment, weighing his words carefully. An errant word here could be disastrous. Finally, he responded.

“Moria is the one who’s dead. Found traces of him in the forest ring.”

Expectedly, Jinbe and Buggy let out dismayed exclamations, and from the corner of his eye, Law saw Hancock cease her petting of Salome, her hand pausing on its snout as she turned her perturbed gaze on him as well. Mihawk alone remained impassive.

“Traces?”

“Blood,” Law responded, “and…”

He reached into his coat and produced a strange purple ornament, shaped like a cross, with three curved claws at the ends of its spokes – the necklace that Gecko Moria had always worn. A thin layer of dried blood coated the side of the bauble. Law tossed it across the table, and Mihawk caught it casually, his gaze turning down to it as he slowly turned it over, examining it closely.

Jinbe let out a low growl.

“So, Teach and Doflamingo live on after all…”

“As does Kuma,” Boa pointed out, any anxiety she might have felt hidden behind a guarded expression. “This is not the worst-case scenario.”

“It is quite near to it,” Jinbe replied grimly, crossing his arms and sinking into a chair. “Moria may have been greedy, but he had regained much of his former strength and had an army at his beck and call. This is functionally a thousand losses in one.”

“W-Well…” Buggy cut in with a slight stammer, “It’s not like he was working with us, right? Can it really be considered a loss when he ran off alone?”

“He was not working with us,” Jinbe acknowledged. “But unlike Teach or Doflamingo, he could have been persuaded, in the right circumstances. In any case, what’s done is done. There’s no point lamenting the loss, rather than focus on what to do from here.”

“We should focus our attention on bringing down the biggest threats on the opposing side,” Law spoke up, his words carefully planned once again. “As it stands, there are only eight of us left – maybe less, if there are any deaths we don’t know about since the announcer went offline. Four, subtracting Buggy and the three rogues.” 

“Hey!”

“If we can turn our enemies against each other – or better yet, against themselves – we can whittle down their ranks with minimal losses. We could also try to steer the enemy toward Doflamingo and Teach. Make weapons out of the ‘allies’ we’d rather see gone.”

The other four were silent, taking a few moments to contemplate Law’s suggestion. Finally, Jinbe spoke up, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I can’t say that I approve of such tactics,” he said, scratching his beard apprehensively. “They remind me far too much of… an old acquaintance. But I concur. Given how unstable our cooperation is, we would be foolish not to employ whatever tactic is necessary to disrupt our foes.”

Boa shrugged. “Honor means little to me. I agree as well; whatever produces results.”

Mihawk remained silent. His stony gaze was still locked firmly on Law. Law stared back.

“Thoughts, Mihawk?”

Mihawk remained motionless for another moment and then slowly stood from his chair.

“None. I agree. I will remain here and attempt to contact Kuma again. His repulsion will be an effective tool for relocating our enemies, corralling them into whatever arena we see fit.”

He turned toward Boa.

“Send a message with Salome to the Akatsuki in the northwest. See about establishing a rapport with their leadership, and arrange a meeting if possible. Learn as much as you can about them, and try to maneuver them toward the Espada.”

As she nodded, he turned toward Jinbe.

“See if you can’t track down that shark fellow. We must eliminate him as quickly as possible, before any alliances are established.”

Finally, he turned toward Law.

“And you, get some sleep. You look like you have one foot in the grave already.”

Law exhaled through his nose, nodding in acknowledgement. Pulling himself to his feet, he turned to exit the room. As the doors shut behind him, one pair of eyes stayed trained in the direction of his departure, even as the others turned to resume their conversation.

—

Marching down the hall with purpose, Law took a sharp left down an adjoining corridor, banishing all traces of fatigue from his mind. He had no intention of following Mihawk’s orders to get some rest, but all things considered, his meeting with the others had gone about as well as he could have hoped. 

The truth was, he didn’t care whether the Warlords won this war or not. While he certainly had no particular intention to die – it would honestly be quite inconvenient – he had decided long ago that his purpose in life was to take down Doflamingo. However, with the help of Straw Hat Luffy and his crew, he had been successful in this endeavor, and so had turned his sights toward grander targets.

Until this war had begun, and he had somehow found himself on the same team as his oldest enemy. The thought caused his jaw to clench and his eyes to narrow as he descended the steps to a lower level of Marine Headquarters.

No, he didn’t care if the Warlords won.

He just needed Doflamingo to lose.

Thankfully, the others shared similar sentiments, at least to an extent. None of his fellows were particularly keen on Blackbeard or Doflamingo either and seemed willing to work against them, but if Law had his way they would be focusing all their efforts on crushing those two before they could sink their claws into any of the other participants.

Mihawk, however, seemed to find the idea tactically unwise, preferring to focus their attention on the enemy and allow the chips to fall where they may when it came to their “allies.” Even the significantly neutered strategy Law had just proposed, of steering Teach and Doflamingo toward the enemy, had seemed to perturb the swordsman. However, Law could take some mild comfort in the fact that Mihawk at least had not openly objected.

Mild comfort, however, was not good enough for him.

He entered into a larger chamber, and the sound of lapping water greeted his ears. In the center of the expansive room was a docking bay, nestled within an enclosed alcove below Marine Headquarters that opened up into the vast ocean on the far side. Well over a hundred meters long, it was filled end-to-end with massive marine battleships. Only one of the bay’s many docks was empty – its ship having been taken by Edward Weevil in his grand suicide rampage. Mihawk preferred to travel via his much smaller personal ship, while Kuma and Law had their own means of travel that did not require one at all. Otherwise, none of the Warlords had left Marineford, except the three who had never set foot there to begin with.

‘Room.’

In an instant, the docking bay was encompassed by an energy field – the Room created through the power of Law’s Ope Ope no Mi. In another instant, he had scanned the area down to the last square inch.

Nobody. The room was empty. Good.

Usually, Law would not need to resort to such measures. His Observation Haki would have told him immediately if anyone had been there. Unfortunately, not long after the battle that had taken place five days prior, the arena had become darker and drearier, and the sun itself seemed to dim. From that moment on, every Warlord’s Observation Haki had spontaneously stopped working, as had the sensory abilities of those on the opposing teams. It was as though a fog had descended upon the arena, a static that filled everyone’s heads and blinded them to everything that wasn’t right in front of them. It was deeply disorienting for those who were constantly reliant on such abilities.

While certain extrasensory powers like Law’s Scan still functioned for reconnaissance purposes, they were much more limited in scale than Observation Haki and required conscious activation. Thanks to that annoying constraint, Mihawk had insisted on regular patrols of all three territories to keep tabs on their foes. To make matters worse, the announcer’s voice, which rang out every morning to remind people of what day it was, had ceased simultaneously, meaning that if anyone had died within the last four and a half days, no one was aware of it.

At first, Law had assumed that the sudden jamming effect that had befallen the arena was their host’s doing, but once he had learned of Moria’s demise and the loss of his shadow-controlling fruit, he had realized that conclusion was wrong. The murky gloom that had befallen the arena told the whole story.

Blackbeard was behind it. He was sure of it.

Having confirmed his privacy, Law willed the energy that permeated the air to dissipate, and the Room ceased. He had good reason to be cautious about the presence of anyone nearby. After all, it would be inconvenient if the other Warlords were to detect the meeting that was about to take place.

As if cued by his thoughts, a sound filled the air, like a zipper splitting open, and space unfurled atop one of the nearby ships. From its depths, hands clasped behind her back, a green-haired woman emerged, clad in white, a skull mask with two curved horns adorning the top of her head: Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, the former Tres Espada.

No alarm crossed Law’s face at the sight of the intruder, nor did the hand that gripped his sword twitch. As Nel stepped out from the Descorrer, she glanced around, surveying the room before her gaze fell on Law. As she descended the ship’s gangplank, she spoke with a soft, yet steely, business-like tone.

“Well? How did it go?”

“Fine,” Law replied evenly. “Didn’t seem like they suspected anything.”

“Good.” As she approached him, Nel’s shoulders relaxed slightly, seemingly satisfied no one else was in the room with them. “The necklace helped?”

Law hummed softly in affirmation.

“Kuma’s efforts to get it to us weren’t in vain.”

Unceremoniously, he plopped down on a nearby ledge, though he kept his hand on his sword hilt in disproportionate caution. Though he had come to trust Nel for the most part, he had not lived as long as he had by letting his guard down around people who could easily kill him, if allowed the chance.

“Any word on Doflamingo and Teach?”

“By Kuma’s latest report, they’ve split up. Doflamingo has reentered your territory and holed himself up on one of your outer islands. Teach, on the other hand, is harder to track. With Gecko Moria’s power, he’s gained the ability to travel through shadows. My Pesquisa, of course, isn’t working, so we currently don’t know where he is.”

Law clicked his tongue.

“Knowing Doflamingo’s location is good enough for me. What about Nnoitra?”

Weariness flickered on Nel’s face.

“Equally elusive.”

A brief silence fell between the two of them. After a moment, Nel spoke again, quietly to herself.

“He’s late.”

Law paused, thinking for a moment that she meant Nnoitra, before his mind caught up, and he scowled, glowering at her.

“He’s coming?”

Nel met his gaze evenly.

“I know you aren’t enthusiastic about this alliance, but he will make for a powerful ally.”

“I’m never enthusiastic about ‘allies’ who can stick a knife in my back that I can’t see coming.”

“I find that enemies who can do that are far worse.”

Law jumped, turning sharply toward the new voice that had intruded on their conversation. From the shadows, a figure materialized as though formed from darkness, clad in dark robes with splotches of red across them. Dark hair hung down around his face, which was scored by long, distinct tear-troughs. As the man approached, Law moved his hand to grip his sword’s hilt, and he halted. Across from Law, Nel closed her eyes, mild exasperation clear on her face.

“Law, this is-”

“Itachi Uchiha,” the dark-haired man interrupted, his voice calm, dark eyes glittering with cold intelligence. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“The feeling’s not mutual,” Law snapped. “I’ve heard plenty about you from Nel, Uchiha, and I still haven’t agreed to let you into this little alliance. I don’t trust you.”

“That’s fine,” Itachi replied evenly. “I don’t trust you either. But I sympathize with your cause.”

He descended the short steps nearby, approaching the two of them fearlessly.

“I, too, have those on ‘my side’ that I’d rather die than see win that wish at the end of this war.” His eyes narrowed. “Besides, you lack intel on the Akatsuki at the moment. You won’t last long without that.”

“And just who are you concerned about?” Law asked.

“The leader of the Akatsuki. His name is Pain.”

“Pain? A little on the nose, no?”

“Perhaps. But he seeks to raze the world and bring peace through planetary devastation, so his name befits him.”

“…Wonderful.” Law grimaced. ‘Why do we have so many psychopaths in the running?’

Across from them, Nel spoke up.

“Between the three of us, we thoroughly understand all three teams. We can work together to identify the greatest threats on each side and eliminate them. Itachi, if you wouldn’t mind, an exchange of intel would perhaps be an effective peace offering.”

Itachi nodded curtly.

“Very well. However, before we begin, are you aware of the eavesdropper in the stairwell?”

For a moment, it was as though the air had turned to ice. Then-

“Room!”

Law whirled on the spot, and the Room around them expanded to encompass the stairwell. Stupid! He was unaccustomed to using his Scan as a surrogate for Observation Haki, and so had made the error of only securing the docking bay itself before. It had never occurred to him that someone might have followed him-!

Instantly, as soon as the Room swelled, the individual in the stairway turned to bolt, but with a whoosh!, they were teleported out of their hiding spot, crashing to the ground between the three conspirators. With a groan, he pulled himself up to his feet, rubbing his head.

“Jinbe!” Law cried out in dismay, staring down at the bulky Fish-Man. “How much did you hear?!”

Jinbe glowered at him with slight reproach.

“Enough, Trafalgar. Conspiring with the enemy seems beneath you. Especially those who have murdered our allies.” He turned his steely gaze on Itachi, who stared back without emotion.

“Shall we silence him?” Itachi asked.

“No!” Law cried, glaring sharply at him, before taking a moment to regather his composure. “No. Jinbe is trustworthy, a man of honor.” He turned back toward Jinbe. “This isn’t a betrayal, Jinbe. I only want to ensure that Doflamingo and Blackbeard don’t win in the end, and these two feel similar about members of their teams. Kuma’s also on our side, though he’s currently working undercover. We’ve… collaborated… to share intel and come up with strategies. That’s all. I have no ill will toward you or any of the others upstairs. I didn’t think Mihawk would see it that way.”

“On my part, it is as good as a betrayal,” Nel spoke up, casting her gaze downward. “Harribel would never forgive me if she found out I wanted to kill other Arrancars. But it can’t be helped. Many of our allies could cause devastation if they’re allowed to get that wish.”

“Betrayal would imply that I was ever on the Akatsuki’s side to begin with,” Itachi added with a sigh. “But yes, I suppose on my end it’s a betrayal as well. To be frank, I have little desire to survive this war myself, much less allow any of the monsters I call ‘allies’ to emerge victorious.”

Law groaned in exasperation at the thoroughly unhelpful admissions, as Jinbe still looked distrustful, letting out a low growl.

“Those who would so willingly turn their back on their comrades are without principle.” After a moment, however, his expression softened slightly. “However, I cannot say I don’t understand your concerns. Blackbeard emerging victorious, after everything he’s done… that would be a truly intolerable outcome.”

His glare sharpened again, turning toward Itachi.

“You, though,” he growled. “You killed Crocodile.”

Itachi frowned. “The sand user?”

“Indeed. I owed him my life.”

Itachi was silent for a moment.

“…I’m sorry. I did not get the impression that he was a good man.”

Jinbe fell silent himself and then let out a long, aggrieved sigh.

“He wasn’t.”

Slowly, Jinbe lowered himself into a sitting position, and the other three did the same. His initial anger seemingly abated, Jinbe eyed the three of them cautiously, but calmly.

“Very well, I understand what you are asking of me. I will keep your dealings to myself, for now, unless they become a problem. However, in return, I would ask two things.”

Itachi and Nel exchanged glances, but Law nodded. “Of course, what are they?”

“First, you will allow me to share in your intelligence on the other two teams. Secrecy in return for information, more than fair.”

He paused, and when the others didn’t object, he continued.

“Secondly, you will allow me to battle that shark fellow, from the Akatsuki.”

Itachi turned, eyebrows raising slightly.

“Kisame?”

“If that is his name. If I cannot seek justice from you for Crocodile’s death, for now, he is the next best thing.”

Itachi was silent for a moment, and then nodded.

“Very well. Kisame is my partner. I can tell you anything there is to know about him and lead him to you.”

“You would betray your partner so willingly?”

Itachi pressed his lips together into a thin line.

“Kisame is a bloodthirsty thug. I harbor no love for him.”

—

Beyond a distant shore, at the heart of the Akatsuki’s Hidden Mist territory, atop a jagged rock shrouded in fog, Kisame Hoshigaki sat, his enormous bandaged sword balanced against his shoulder. As he stared out at the murky marshes he’d known his whole life, his toothy smile widened, an unhinged look of hunger visible on his face.

‘Hehehehehe… Itachi is late. I wonder what he’s up to…’

—

Jinbe paused, processing the answer, and then inclined his head curtly in acknowledgement.

“You said you wanted our intel,” Nel spoke up. “Perhaps we could start with the Akatsuki, if Kisame is your target.”

Jinbe nodded, and turned back toward Itachi, who took a moment to consider his words carefully, and then began speaking.

“Kisame is a bloodthirsty killer, the Monster of the Hidden Mist. He specializes in water style ninjutsu, and is especially deadly thanks to his sword, Samehada, which can drain the chakra of attacks or individuals that it comes into contact with. It was able to absorb some sort of black energy from that Crocodile of yours.”

“His Haki,” Law provided. “Mihawk told us. Seems like your ‘chakra’ and our Haki are pretty similar.”

“Similar enough,” Itachi acknowledged with a small shrug, “though I would avoid making too many assumptions in that regard, it may be dangerous.” He paused, and when Law didn’t reply, continued. “Beyond absorption, Kisame’s stamina is his greatest attribute. He possesses the greatest chakra volume among the Akatsuki, with reserves comparable to a Tailed Beast such as the Nine-Tails.”

“That fox from five days ago,” Nel clarified, before Law and Jinbe could interject in confusion. It seemed this conversation was one she’d had with Itachi already. Itachi continued.

“Outside of Kisame, as I said the biggest threat is Pain. Unfortunately, there is precious little I can tell you about him. He keeps his abilities a close secret, though they are undoubtedly tremendous. They say he annihilated Hanzo the Salamander, one of history’s most legendary shinobi, and that he has never lost a battle.” 

“Anything on his powers?” Law asked, after a moment of waiting for Itachi to continue.

“Sadly not,” Itachi replied, and Law grimaced. Itachi’s intel, so far, seemed less than useful. To the side, Nel spoke up.

“So far, Pain has mostly remained in hiding, but he did participate in a battle against one of the Espada, Zommari. Unfortunately, Zommari died in the fight, so any intel on Pain’s abilities didn’t make it back to us.”

“Do you know what caused him to emerge?” Jinbe questioned.

“Regretfully not.”

“I do,” Itachi interjected. “He has a close confidant, named Konan. It was she who first set out to battle Zommari in the north, and Pain went to assist her when she did not return after some time.”

“Then he cares about this Konan person?” Law inquired, leaning forward. “Would it be possible to use her against him?”

“Perhaps,” Itachi murmured, softly and reluctantly as his eyes turned downward, almost speaking more to himself than in response to Law’s question. “But I am uncertain. Pain has been exceedingly cautious since this war began, forbidding us from attacking unnecessarily. He has been very conscientious about how many pawns are left at his disposal, regardless of who they are.”

“So he may just have been trying to keep Konan alive as an ally,” Law finished his thought for him. Itachi nodded. Law grumbled to himself, leaning backward again. “Do you know the reason for this cautious attitude of his?”

Itachi shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

—

The sound of violent coughing filled the air. Exhausted eyes squeezed closed, burning from days without sleep, lungs screaming for relief and the taste of iron staining the man’s tongue. Nagato’s body trembled, spasms of pain rippling through emaciated muscles.

As the hacking slowly diminished in intensity, he managed to take in deep, shuddering breaths, and the room came into focus around him. The tray full of blood – his blood, violently regurgitated – barely visible in front of him, under the dim lights. A hand on his shoulder, holding him in place as he rode out the attack, no doubt to prevent him from jerking around too much and hurting himself. The woman whose hand it was stood at his side, face full of concern.

It sickened him. The pity.

“Thank you, Konan,” Nagato ground out, his voice hoarse, hoping he came across as sufficiently nonchalant. If he was convincing enough, perhaps his associate wouldn’t make this into a big deal.

Konan’s lips pressed together in a thin line, dissatisfaction etched across her face.

Of course.

“You aren’t getting better,” she pressed. “The fight with Zommari, controlling three Paths at once, from such a distance, in your condition-”

“I am fine,” Nagato replied, as firmly as he could manage. “It was just coughing.”

“Coughing up blood!”

Nagato was silent for a moment.

“…It’s a minor inconvenience. I’ll recover.”

After a moment’s hesitation of her own, Konan let out a frustrated sigh and turned away.

“Please promise me you won’t push yourself any further until you have. For my sake or anyone else’s.”

Nagato was silent.

“Nagato.”

“Very well. I won’t.”

As much as he resented the coddling, a small part of him twinged with gratitude at Konan’s concern. In spite of everything that had happened, she had always remained his most loyal friend. Even after Yahiko…

His eyes narrowed. Determination flickered in his heart at the thought, as it always had. This sickness was nothing. He would see his ambitions realized, no matter what.

The world would know pain.

—

“Well, alright. Anyone else?”

“Orochimaru,” Itachi replied with a halfhearted shrug. “He commands snakes to do his bidding, and can steal the bodies of others. He seeks all the knowledge of the world, and is a cruel psychopath who experiments on others, certainly not the type we’d want getting a wish. But he is weak and incapable of combating the power of my Sharingan. I should be able to deal with him easily.”

Law nodded, then repeated his earlier question. “Anyone else?”

Itachi did not answer for several long moments, looking contemplative.

“No one of particular importance,” he replied, finally. Law made no effort to hide his dissatisfaction.

“Alright,” Nel said. “Thank you, Itachi. If I may, I can provide some information about the Espada.”

“By all means.”

With a deep breath, Nel began.

“There are four… no, five Espada who are too dangerous to be allowed to achieve the wish at the end of this war. First, Nnoitra Gilga. He’s violent and homicidal, and will slaughter innocents for the sake of an enjoyable fight. He wants little more than to fight and kill until he finds someone who can kill him in return.”

Itachi let out a humorless chuckle.

“Well, let’s give him what he wants, then.”

Nel nodded, not smiling.

“He primarily specializes in defense, and can harden his skin to the point of being nearly impenetrable. In that sense, either you or Law would be a good counter against him, as your abilities could bypass his Hierro.”

Law remained silent. In his mind’s eye, two towering figures flashed, so overwhelming in raw power that even his Ope Ope no Mi could not move them. Privately, he couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d find himself faced with a foe like that in this arena. But he saw no reason to make Nel, or especially Itachi, aware of that particular limitation of his ability. Nel continued.

“Second is Szayelaporro Granz. He doesn’t look like much, but his latent power is beyond most of the Espada, and his tricks are numerous. If any of you face him, I’d recommend finishing him off as quickly and thoroughly as you can. Don’t let him adapt to you or get any of his equipment in place.”

“That’s the scientist fellow with the pink hair, yes?” Jinbe inquired, and Nel nodded.

“Right. He might seem intelligent and composed at first glance, but he’s a madman. There aren’t many people I’d trust less with a wish than someone like him. Even Nnoitra…”

“Is it really safe to let him experiment on that giant’s corpse, then?” Jinbe asked, raising an eyebrow.

—

Far to the north, across the ocean waters, unaware of any distant scheming, Szayel hummed softly to himself, a self-satisfied smile adorning his face as he paced leisurely about Yammy’s giant body. Above his head, small mechanical devices whizzed back and forth, their scanners examining every inch of the corpse with perfect acuity. On the interior side of his square-frame glasses, the lenses gleamed faintly, illuminated by a small display of the data that the scanners recorded.

_{Identification: Yammy Llargo, Cero Espada
Time Since Death: 4 days, 22 hours, 38 minutes, 27 seconds
Reiryoku Volume: 38%
Reishi Integrity: 42%}

As the seconds ticked up, Szayel’s lips turned further upward. 

‘32% drop in volume since yesterday, 20% drop in integrity.’

Yammy’s body, it seemed, was degrading. Szayel had observed from the still-alive Ulquiorra that the enormous fox beast possessed some kind of corrosive energy that had attempted to eat away at the Cuatro Espada. However, Ulquiorra’s powerful Reiatsu served as a natural antibody against the effect, staving it off long enough for Szayel to synthesize an spiritual antibiotic that helped mitigate the effects. The deceased Yammy, on the other hand, was unable to continue producing Reiatsu, and so served as an excellent test subject. As the immense Reiryoku he possessed progressively fled his body post-mortem, the Reishi composing his physical being had begun to come undone – far more quickly than at a natural rate.

‘Fascinating.’

Kakuzu’s energy, in comparison, lacked this poisonous component, as far as Szayel could determine. Was it something unique to the fox? Or did it vary from person to person? The fox’s residual energy certainly had similarities with Kakuzu’s, but it seemed that it was simply… so much more.

“Extract all invigorative residue from the corpse,” he commanded the devices, softly. “Catalog based on origin and return to my laboratory. Begin computations for synthesizing a self-replenishing antibody.”

The drones zoomed off to do their work as commanded. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and the screen display vanished. As a Descorrer unfolded in front of him and swallowed him up, Szayel felt the faint sense of elation that always accompanied his great strokes of spontaneous brilliance.

‘We may just win this war yet.’

—

Nel frowned.

“Unfortunately, he’s examining Yammy’s body on Harribel’s orders. I can’t stop him without defying her openly, and that would draw suspicion and limit my movements. We’re fortunate that at the moment, Harribel trusts me.”

“You’ve mentioned this Harribel several times now,” Itachi said, folding his hands. “Is she the strongest of the Espada?”

Nel hesitated, then after a moment replied.

“No. She isn’t. But she’s our leader. Among the Espada, she’s the most respectable and the fairest. If Szayelaporro would be the least suited to a wish, Harribel would be the most. However…”

“She wouldn’t approve of you colluding with us.” Law finished, and she nodded. He had had this particular conversation with Nel before.

“Harribel is my friend, and doing this behind her back has been… a difficult choice to make,” Nel admitted. “But she’s dedicated to creating a world where Hollows don’t need to slaughter each other. She would never approve of plotting against our own. That’s a burden I’ve decided to shoulder, myself.”

Her shoulders hunched, and for a moment the weight of her decisions were clear as day on her face, even if she didn’t verbalize it. Even in the slim chance she survived this war, she was forsaking the trust of her friends. A moment later, however, she schooled her features, and her tone became businesslike again.

“You had asked about the strongest of our number, Itachi.”

Itachi nodded.

“It would be either Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez or Luppi Antenor, both formerly the Sexta.”

“Either?” Itachi asked. “You’re not sure which?”

“The two are approximately equal in strength.” Nel replied. “Grimmjow, all things considered, isn’t that bad. He’s aggressive and arrogant, but he at least has some honor, and his goals are mostly self-serving, rather than anything that would cause any particular calamity. Luppi, on the other hand, is a much bigger problem.”

“I assume the fact that he’s so strong is a contributing factor?”

“Yes,” Nel replied hesitantly. “But more than that, it’s his bloodlust that makes him dangerous. He and Grimmjow both represent destruction, but Grimmjow’s lust for battle is tempered by lofty ambitions and a genuine desire for the respect of others. Luppi doesn’t care for any of that. He seeks destruction for its own sake and doesn’t love anyone. He would probably just wish to be able to kill as many people as possible.”

“Lovely.” Law muttered dryly. Nel nodded grimly.

“The fourth one I’m concerned about is Baraggan Louisenbairn. If Luppi is the most powerful of the ones I am concerned about, Baraggan is the most dangerous. His ability lets him produce a miasma which will kill anyone who touches it, by aging them into dust, no matter who or what they are. It also works on anything that approaches him, preventing any projectile from reaching him by aging it into nothingness.”

Itachi chuckled softly. Nel looked sharply toward him.

“It isn’t funny. You mustn’t underestimate the danger he poses.”

Itachi shook his head.

“I am not. He sounds terrifying. A man who possesses control over aging… one could say he commands fate itself – the fate of all living things, save for Baraggan himself, I’m sure.”

In spite of his words, Itachi looked starkly unconcerned. Nel regarded him with uncertainty, clearly wondering whether he was losing his mind. “Yes, you could say that.”

“Fortunately, I too possess the means to decide fate. He will be no trouble for me, I assure you.”

Nel blinked.

“Are… you sure?”

“I am.”

“…Okay,” she replied, looking unconvinced. “Then I will leave him to you, when the time comes.”

“You said you had five you were worried about,” Law spoke up. He had been puzzled about this since she had said it. “But I only knew of four. Nnoitra, Szaya-whatever, Luppi, and Baraggan. You have a fifth to bring up?”

Nel hesitated.

“I… do.”

The other three waited expectantly, but as the seconds stretched out, Nel remained silent.

“…And?”

She took a deep breath.

“Ulquiorra Cifer. The one who defeated the Nine-Tails.”

“Oh?” Nel had not spoken much of Ulquiorra, but Law had gotten the impression that she held respect for him.

“He… is different now than he was. In the past, he’s always been heartless, the type who believes that nothing matters – who would turn down a wish in the end because he doesn’t want anything. Ever since we woke up here, though, he seems… restless. And he seems determined to win this war. I think…” She hesitated. “I think that his death changed him. That he wants something now. And I don’t know what.”

“So you’re worried he might be dangerous?”

Nel grimaced.

“I… don’t know what to think of him. I don’t know what exactly became of him before, only that he died in battle with Ichi- …with a friend of mine. But he’s never been the type to change his outlook. Whatever it is that’s spurred him into action, it must have been something dramatic. And I’m worried…”

All of a sudden, Law understood.

“You’re worried that he wants revenge on this friend of yours.”

Nel nodded, miserably.

“I want to have faith in Ulquiorra, especially after he put his life on the line to stop that beast’s rampage, but it’s like I said, he’s always been heartless. I can’t imagine this change in him being born of anything good, and he wouldn’t tell me when I asked him about it.”

Privately, Law couldn’t have cared less about Ulquiorra, but mentally filed this information away in his head for later. Nel was awfully trusting, he thought, for being so forthcoming about her precarious situation with the Espada’s leadership. Of course, he didn’t particularly distrust his green-haired ally or want to be the one to kill her in the end, but he also had no illusions about collaborating with her forever. 

“Does he have any powers we ought to look out for?” Jinbe spoke up. Nel’s grimace deepened.

“He is… straightforward. But as you saw from the battle with the Nine-Tails, he has incredible strength. Maybe not as much as me or Grimmjow or Harribel, but terrifying nonetheless.” She paused to think, seemingly oblivious to her casual proclamation of her own strength. It seemed that there was something she wanted to add, but nonetheless she remained silent.

—

In the heart of Las Noches, Ulquiorra’s face, rarely cheerful, was adorned with a deep frown even by his standards. As he took in his situation, he had only one thought in his head.

‘This is… humiliating.’

In the days that had succeeded his fight with the fox, the Cuatro Espada had remained confined to the Espada’s infirmary, on Harribel’s strict orders. Szayel’s antibiotic, combined with his own Reiatsu, was hard at work fighting back the poisonous effects of the beast’s energy, and until it had been entirely vanquished, it had been deemed unsafe for Ulquiorra to leave his state of bedrest. After all, with his Reiatsu hard at work fighting the gnawing decay, the power he had available to him was noticeably diminished.

At the moment, however, his ‘comrades’ were taking steps to mitigate that. Sitting upright on his bed, Ulquiorra’s white jacket had been removed and laid across the nearby counter, leaving his pale chest and sharp, black ‘4’ tattoo visible, though large portions of his stomach and arms had been wrapped in bandages. Small hands pressed into his bare back, and from them he felt the warm sensation of Reiryoku pouring into his body.

Across from him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, the former Primera Espada, Coyote Starrk, gazed at him from the corner of his only open eye, a look of faint amusement peeking out from behind his lazy demeanor.

“This is ridiculous…” Ulquiorra broke the silence with a mutter, his scowl deepening as he glared at Starrk. “How utterly disappointing this ‘new’ Espada is turning out to be. I don’t need your coddling, and you were supposed to go meet up with Harribel and Baraggan half an hour ago.”

Starrk yawned, and gave a halfhearted shrug.

“It’s no trouble for me. Hardly makes a difference to Reiatsu like ours.”

“Mhm~!” A high pitched noise of affirmation came from behind Ulquiorra, where Lilynette sat. “Starrk and I are real strong! It’s no problem!”

Ulquiorra scoffed, his gaze dropping to the floor. As the minutes stretched on, he stewed silently. Ever since he had woken up, he had been watched like a hawk, the rest of the Espada taking turns pumping him full of Reiatsu with varying degrees of condescension.

Normally, it would be annoying but bearable. In this arena, however? There was no time for this. Time spent healing was time spent off the battlefield, and time spent off the battlefield was time that their enemies could spend getting stronger and bolder. He had barely won the battle against the fox, and there was no telling whether their adversaries might have even better in store.

The Espada were not numerous enough to suffer near-losses like that forever. They had already lost three of their number…

Ulquiorra growled in frustration and lurched suddenly up from the bed, shoving Lilynette’s hands off his shoulders impatiently and causing her to yelp in surprise. He felt a momentary stab of guilt, much to his own chagrin, but quickly brushed it off as he moved to grab his jacket.

“I don’t need your power. I can manage just fine with my own.” He slid on the jacket and zipped it up, striding toward the door. As he passed Starrk, he paused, waiting to see if the Primera would stop him. When Starrk made no move to do so, he continued, but just as he reached the doorway, the man’s voice halted him. 

“Maybe ya don’t need it,” Starrk said, his voice quiet, reaching up to scratch his head. “But we’re allies, aren’t we? It doesn’t hurt to lend each other strength, every once in a while.” He glanced at Lilynette with a small, fond smile when he said this, and then the smile vanished as he glanced back at Ulquiorra.

“…I notice you still haven’t asked about him. Yammy, I mean.”

Ulquiorra was silent for a moment.

“…There’s nothing to say. He was trash.”

With that, he disappeared from the room.

—

Nel simply exhaled, a morose expression on her face. After a moment of silence, Law cleared his throat.

“Well, if that’s everything, we could start planning our next move. Doflamingo-”

“Hold it.” Itachi cut in sharply. He regarded Law and Jinbe coldly. “We still haven’t heard from you two. Don’t try to squirm out of it.”

Law glowered at him.

“I don’t recall agreeing to tell you anything. You give us intel, I pretend to trust you. Never promised anything beyond that.” Itachi’s eyes narrowed.

“Law…” Nel reproached softly, looking at him anxiously. He ignored her. She had told him all about Itachi, or at least as much as the shinobi had told her. As if he was going to share anything with a man like that…

Jinbe sighed.

“Which of our number would you like to know about?”

“Jinbe-”

“An exchange.” Jinbe cut Law’s objection short. “That is what was agreed to. You want Doflamingo and Teach dead, no? Withholding intel seems uncharacteristically shortsighted of you.”

Law folded his arms, scowling.

“You haven’t heard about this bastard.” He shot a glare at Itachi, who met his gaze evenly. “He’s a murderer. I don’t like him much more than either of them.”

Jinbe turned toward Itachi, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh?”

Itachi sat silently, the seconds stretching out. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft and stiff.

“If Nelliel has told you about me, you should know that I have no use for a wish, and that I have every intention of dying before this war is over. If you wish for me to help you against our mutual enemies first, however, I will need to know what to be cautious of.” 

Law ground his teeth.

“You…”

“You are acting like a petulant child. This is war. If you are unwilling to compromise your values, you will die. That is the cruel reality of the world.”

“Compromise? You mean give up on myself and slaughter innocent people, like you did?”

“I-”

“Enough.”

Jinbe cut in before Itachi could respond. He placed a large hand on Law’s shoulder, before turning to the man sitting across from them.

“I apologize for my comrade. Ask your questions, please.”

Itachi was silent for a moment. If Law’s words had affected him, it did not show on his face. Finally, he spoke.

“This Doflamingo fellow. What is he like?”

Law and Jinbe exchanged a glance.

—

Four days earlier…

To the northwest, but still in the outer ring of the Warlords’ territory sat an enormous island country. Much like the others interspersed throughout the open sea, it was a perfect replica of another country – though without the countless citizens that called it home. The streets were barren, silent… except for the footsteps of one man, and the faint song that he hummed under his breath as he strolled through, feather-coated hands clasped behind his back and his gait exaggerated.

“Doflamingo was a Celestial Dragon, one of the supposed god-kings that rule the world.”

Light gleamed off of the man’s glasses. Trailing behind him at the end of a string, staggering along with unnaturally stilted steps, the puppet Sasori traipsed. The only sign of life from the silent, subjugated Akatsuki was the boiling, seething hatred that stirred in his normally emotionless eyes. Though he desperately yearned to break the string that bound him, however, he had no choice but to follow obediently.

“As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing and nobody in the world that isn’t beneath him.”

As he moved through the barren city, images flashed in his mind’s eye. Streets filled with living toys who had once been men. Those who had stood against him: the one-legged swordsman Kyros charging in, Black Leg Sanji with his flaming kicks, that long-nosed sniper god whose name eluded him… and then there were those two. That bastard Law, and Straw Hat Luffy, the rubber pirate who had finally managed to topple him from his throne. As he ascended the steps toward the palace atop the central plateau, veins bulged in his forehead, rage boiling in his stomach as he thought back to the men who had sent him to rot away in chains. 

They would all suffer.

“His power allows him to manipulate strings. He’s a puppeteer who rules from the shadows…”

His humming coming to a crescendo, he threw open the doors of the royal palace. Taking the stairs two at a time with his long legs, his coat billowing behind him, he entered the throne room with a flourish. At the center of the chamber sat the grand throne – and seated in it, frozen and lifeless, a wax figure of the country’s king, once deposed, until he had been placed back in his seat of power by those repulsive Straw Hats.

The man scowled. The sight of old king Riku atop his throne once again, real or not… it sickened him.

“…who desires nothing more than to take fate by the reins and sit atop the world.”

With a flick of the warlord’s wrist, the good king’s figure was ripped from the chair, hurled into the air, and carved into tiny fragments that rained down around the room. With cold bloodlust thrumming in his veins, the man surveyed the now-empty throne. The throne of a country he had brought to its knees so long ago. His first stepping stone toward reclaiming his birthright… a stepping stone ripped from beneath his feet.

It was just the beginning, and it wasn’t the real throne of Dressrosa… but it would do for now.

“In short?”

His humming trailing off, coming to an end, Doflamingo retook his seat atop Dressrosa’s throne, a manic grin twisting across his face. At his side, Sasori stood immobile, head bowed.

“He’s a monster.”

The king had returned.

—

Law’s scowl deepened the longer Jinbe spoke. Hatred stirred in his stomach. 

“I kill Doflamingo,” he declared, forcefully. “No one takes a swing at him but me.”

“No.”

His entire body froze. His eyes flashed instantly toward Nel, who stared back fearlessly.

“No?” he practically spat out, incredulously. “If you think you can-”

“Doflamingo knows you,” she cut in, her tone steely, “you’ve told me as much. He’s known you since you were a child and he knows how to get into your head.”

“I know him, too.”

“And yet you said you lost, the last time you fought him.”

“That was a long time ago. I’ve grown beyond him.”

“Can you be certain? It was just as long for him as for you.”

Law glowered furiously at her.

“He’s been in prison. If you think I’m going to sit back after everything…”

“You’re angry. Not thinking rationally. If you charge in looking for revenge, you’ll be playing right into his hands.”

Law’s teeth ground furiously, words he wanted to say jumping into his throat but not passing his teeth. As much as he wanted to argue… deep down, he knew she had a point. As his anger slowly, slowly waned, Nel took a deep breath, and exhaled. With it, the tension seemed to deflate from the room. Itachi and Jinbe looked on silently. After another moment of silence, Nel continued.

“I will fight Doflamingo,” she announced. “And I swear by my sword, I will kill him for you.”

Law met her gaze, which was firm but not unkind, conflicting emotions battling for dominance in his chest. A blonde man’s face flashed in his mind’s eye, bruised and drenched in blood. Doflamingo’s cruel, taunting laugh. And yet…

Law’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was soft, defeated.

“Fine.”

As he relented, a sense of defeat settled inside him. To leave Doflamingo to someone else, yet again…

Itachi cleared his throat, shaking him from his thoughts. The Uchiha regarded Jinbe warily.

“Are any of the rest of your number worth mentioning? That Mihawk had a powerful aura.”

Jinbe was silent for a moment, and Law felt a flicker of alarm – they had planned to deal with Itachi through Hancock’s Mero Mero no Mi, but if the ever-honorable Jinbe saw fit to forewarn him about her-!

“Only Blackbeard,” Jinbe said after a moment of thought. “Mihawk is powerful but rarely proactive. What you saw of him several days ago was an outlier, spurred on by his partnership with Crocodile. No other Warlord exists whose aid he would rush to so quickly.”

Itachi nodded.

“And Blackbeard?”

“He possesses the power to create devastating earthquakes, and darkness that can swallow anything, even the power of a Devil Fruit. I haven’t the slightest inkling whether it could nullify your abilities, but you ought to proceed under the assumption that it can, just in case.”

“On top of this,” Nel spoke up, “he seems to have somehow stolen Gecko Moria’s power.”

Jinbe gasped.

“Moria’s? Are you certain?”

“Our intelligence from Kuma suggests so, yes.”

Jinbe stroked his beard, his expression stony.

“To think he could claim a third Devil Fruit… this is grim news indeed. Moria had allowed his powers to wane in his age, and did not make use of his fruit to its fullest extent. The power to revive the dead, to build an army and warp the shadows to his advantage… I shudder to contemplate the upper limits of what Teach can do now.”

“He’s most likely the one responsible for our sensory powers going on the fritz,” Law put in, and Jinbe let out a soft noise of realization. “With how dark the arena’s gotten, best we can figure is he’s imbued both land and sea with shadows. It explains why we can’t see past our own nose, and why we seem to have been cut off from the announcer.”

Jinbe nodded along, stroking his beard.

“That makes sense. If that’s the case, though, and Blackbeard’s power is everywhere…”

Unease fell over the four of them. It was hard to know for sure, but could Blackbeard be listening in on their conversation as they spoke? Stranger things had certainly happened…

“We also don’t know where Teach is,” Law grumbled. “He’s somehow managing to stay off the map.”

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t continue trying to track him down,” Itachi replied, and Law felt a stab of annoyance.

‘As if that isn’t obvious!’

“For now, however, we ought to concentrate our efforts on the enemies that we can find,” Itachi continued. “Nelliel has already made her own intentions clear, and Jinbe seems determined to fight Kisame. I would like to be responsible for confronting Ulquiorra, myself.” 

“I thought you wanted Baraggan,” Law snapped, still irritated. Itachi looked impassive.

“I have every intention of dealing with Baraggan, but I can do so at a later time. Ulquiorra should be weakened by the Nine-Tails’ chakra, so it would be best to strike now.”

“Weakened?” Law blinked, momentarily taken aback by the comment, shaken from his grouchiness. He had heard nothing from Nel about Ulquiorra being weakened, but when he glanced in her direction he was surprised to see that she looked stricken, a far cry from her normally-composed demeanor.

“The Nine-Tails’ chakra eats away at those it comes into contact with,” Itachi elaborated, eyeing Nel himself. “Ulquiorra must have a stubborn constitution if he’s not dead after five days, but he should be considerably debilitated by the effort of fighting off its poisonous effects. A detail I am quite surprised has been omitted for this long.”

Nel squirmed, and for the first time Law felt a sense of grudging appreciation for Itachi’s presence. It seemed that Law wasn’t the only one holding back information about his allies; he had underestimated the woman’s cunning.

“…Yeah,” Nel replied finally, seeming to wilt under their gaze. “Ulquiorra has been confined to Las Noches to recover, and the Espada have been taking turns imbuing him with their Reiatsu to help him fight off the effects.”

“Then we must move quickly.” Itachi nodded, and Nel relaxed slightly, though still looked abashed. “Before he fully fights it off. I will deal with him, it should be no trouble.”

All at once, Law felt three gazes on him, and suddenly became conscious of the fact that he was the only one who hadn’t chosen a target. In the moment, his mind went blank; in his single-minded determination, he had not given any thought to who he would go after, if not Doflamingo. Casting around for a name, he privately crossed off opponents that sounded difficult like Baraggan, or unknowable like Pain. Nnoitra seemed easy enough, he thought, and almost voiced his thoughts until he remembered that they currently had no clue where the former Quinto Espada was.

“Luppi?” he replied, finally. “From the sounds of things, he’s strong but straightforward. I’m sure I can make quick work of him.”

He glanced toward Nel for affirmation, since she knew Luppi best, and she nodded hesitantly.

“Be careful. Luppi is… haphazard, but he’s strong. Stronger than I am, even if only slightly. You shouldn’t underestimate him.”

Law’s lips curled upward into a humorless smile.

“Guess we’ll see how worried I should be about you then, eh?”

Nel was unresponsive. Law got the sense that she had been thinking the same thing.

“I’ll need a way into the Espada’s fortress,” Itachi spoke up, breaking the silence. “Are you aware of any such way in, Nelliel?”

As she turned to hash out the details with the man, Law sighed and turned away, glancing at Jinbe, who appeared deep in thought. Law caught his gaze, and wordlessly the two exchanged looks of unease. Once they set off on their own paths, there was a decent chance the two would never see each other again.

Turning back to Nel and Itachi after a moment, Law registered that they seemed to have resolved their quick discussion of Las Noches’ layout.

“Law,” Nel turned to address him. “In light of our sensory abilities being cut off, Szayelaporro has installed a security field around Las Noches. If someone who isn’t an Espada enters the fortress via Descorrer, or intrudes through any ground level entrances, alarms will trigger and the entire Espada will be on them within minutes. With this in mind, we need a way to get Itachi to the top of the fortress; it’s the easiest way in without triggering any proximity alerts. Would you be able to teleport him there with your Room?”

“My range isn’t high enough to reach the top,” Law lied easily. In reality, he simply had no desire to go out of his way to help the Uchiha. From the way Itachi’s eyes narrowed in the corner of his vision, he got the impression that his deception hadn’t gone unnoticed. Not that it mattered to him. “You should give Kuma a call. His repulsion will do the trick, as long as it doesn’t accidentally smear our new friend here across the side of the building.”

Nel nodded, and held out a hand. After a moment spent figuring out what she wanted, Law reached into his jacket, and withdrew a Den Den Mushi, which he deposited into her hand without ceremony. Stepping off to the side, Nel began to fiddle with the snail’s receiver.

Itachi turned and stalked off, his gaze leaving Law, who turned to watch him go, resentment swirling inside him. As Itachi moved toward the staircase connecting to the rest of Marine Headquarters, Law spoke up.

“Just where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Itachi paused, his back to Law.

“I was considering taking a look around. Is that a problem?”

“Yeah, it is. I thought I made it clear, I don’t like you. You aren’t going wandering around our base unsupervised. You’ll give us away.”

Itachi turned to look at him, coldly.

“I know how to avoid detection. Without sensors, it will be child’s play. Besides, just what makes you think you can stop me?”

The air seemed to shift, becoming subtly colder as the two glowered at each other. Itachi continued.

“Truthfully, I could not possibly care less what a stranger thinks of me, or what I’ve done in the past. But a word of advice: if you cannot control yourself, and learn to play a bit nicer, you will certainly end up dead. This world has no room for fools who show their hand too readily.”

“Yeah? Is that the mistake your family made?”

The air seemed to turn to ice. Jinbe and Nel turned to stare at them, alarm visible on both their faces.

“…you know nothing of my family.”

“I’ve heard enough to know you didn’t try hard enough to save them.”

“The Uchiha were beyond saving. And you are out of line, Warlord.”

Perhaps it was exhaustion, perhaps it was stress, but Law couldn’t help but loathe the man standing in front of him. In the back of his mind, he thought back to buildings on fire, bodies lining the streets, lives consumed by white lead… what he wouldn’t have given then, to be able to…

He gritted his teeth, pushed down his anger, and turned away, his head buzzing as the exhaustion settled back in. Getting mad over this was stupid – he didn’t know Itachi, not really. Even so, though…

“You didn’t try hard enough.”

He moved back over toward Nel, who had uneasily resumed her quiet conversation over the Den Den Mushi, which had transformed to mimic Kuma’s blank eyes.

“Get us outta here,” Law muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. “I need to fight something.”

Nel nodded, and placed the receiver back on the Den Den Mushi.

“My Descorrer will get us where we need to go. Though I’m not certain of Luppi’s exact location currently, he should be on patrol right about now. I’ll drop you off in a spot where you can intercept his route.”

‘Sounds better than standing around here.’ Law thought sourly. Outwardly, he nodded. As Itachi and Jinbe moved to join them, Nel unzipped four gateways in space, one in each direction. Taking a moment to point each of them to their designated portal, she clasped her hands behind her back.

“With any luck, we’ll be four enemies shorter when we next see each other.”

Biting back any scathing remarks about Itachi, Law raised a hand in farewell, and wordlessly entered his Descorrer. He had no time or energy to worry about his ‘allies’ right now. He had an Espada to kill.

—

[Interlude 1: Hidden Rain Village]

At the heart of Akatsuki territory, Konan paced back and forth across her quarters, restlessly. Nagato had ordered her to take a rest, no doubt fed up with her worries… Yet even still, she could not help but worry anyway. Worry over Nagato’s illness, over the members who had already fallen and those who remained… 

Logically, she knew there was little to worry about. They had the legendary Madara Uchiha on their side, after all, and Pain of course was invincible… even ill, no matter how she rationalized it, she couldn’t even imagine Pain losing. Regardless, however, her anxiety remained.

A hissing sound ripped her from her thoughts and she jumped, her arm unfurling into paper as she whipped around toward the open window, ready to cut any intruder to pieces. Into the building, an enormous snake slithered, raindrops sliding off of its slick, white and pink skin.

For several moments, Konan’s mind flew to Orochimaru, but the snake looked nothing like the ones that the disturbing man typically employed. The skull that crowned its head… no, this snake belonged to the enemy, she was sure of it. But it didn’t look aggressive; in fact, its wide-eyed gaze was almost dopey, and thoroughly nonthreatening.

Finally, Konan registered an envelope clenched in the snake’s jaws. She stared at the snake, cautiously trying to gauge its intentions. When it made no movements, she slowly inched forward, and extended her hand out to grasp the envelope and pull it from the creature’s teeth.

With a chirping hiss, the snake twisted around and slithered out the window, disappearing from sight so fast it was almost as though it had been summoned away. Konan glanced down at the envelope in her grip. Under normal circumstances, she would be deeply cautious of any correspondence from the enemy, but paper was her specialty, and the piece in her grip had no particular inscription, and no chakra or other energy imparted into it. Instinctively, Konan could tell that it was an ordinary piece of paper.

With a casual flick, she tore the envelope open, pulled out the letter contained within, and began to read.

—

[Battle 1: Jinbe VS Kisame –
Hidden Mist – 8:34 AM]

Grass crunched under Jinbe’s sandals, the Descorrer that he came through already completely out of sight in the heavy mist that hung over the westernmost region of the Akatsuki’s territory. Arms folded in front of himself, the Fish-Man wore a serious expression, eyes slightly narrowed as his gaze cautiously scanned the limited area that was visible around him. Something about the fog was… unnatural. Like a veil that had been pulled over each and every one of his senses.

Amusement flickered through him. In taking such measures to obscure himself, his opponent had ironically betrayed his own presence.

“Show yourself, Monster of the Hidden Mist,” he growled, on guard in spite of his neutral stance. “I have come to challenge you and avenge my fallen comrade.”

For a moment, there was silence save for the trickling of nearby water and the buzzing of insects around the surrounding marshes, but then a sound began to echo through the mist: a low, raspy laughter.

“Fallen comrade, eh?” Jinbe’s eyes widened sharply, as he suddenly became aware of a presence behind him. Turning sharply on his heel, he thrust a palm forward, but it met only mist as the shadowy figure that had stood there melted into vapor. Unnerved, Jinbe took a step back, glancing around as Kisame’s voice seemed to echo all around him. “You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve felled many people’s comrades.”

Jinbe scowled, hands raised in a cautious stance, ready to counter any unexpected attacks.

“Crocodile, of the sand. I owed him a life debt.”

Kisame’s laughter only grew.

“I see. Well, if a man so weak saved your life…”

All around Jinbe, the mist seemed to congeal, and formed into Kisame… and another Kisame, and another and another and another – five in total, surrounding Jinbe from every side.

“…30% will be more than enough.”

Moving so fast they appeared to disappear from eyesight, two of the clones converged inward on Jinbe, and swung their respective Samehadas in wide, sweeping arcs, one angled at Jinbe’s head and the other at his legs. However, with agility that seemed impossible for one of his bulk, Jinbe leapt into the air and twisted, his body managing to maneuver in between the two sword swings, which struck only air.

Thrusting his arms outward, Jinbe slammed his fists into the chests of both clones simultaneously, producing large shockwaves of water that seemed to ripple through the air from their impact points.

“Karakusagawara Seiken!”

Their bodies rippling under the force of Jinbe’s Fish-Man Karate, the clones appeared to lose cohesion, before exploding into enormous geysers of water. Jinbe groaned as he raised his arms to shield his face, scalding water steaming against his skin.

His vision momentarily obscured by the massive amount of steam released in the blast, Jinbe found himself assailed by the remaining three clones, their enormous blunt swords slamming into him from all angles. Staggering, he instantly felt a sensation of weakness.

‘Hrk!’

Jinbe spun in place, palms outstretched, and shockwaves rippled through the air in accordance with the movements of his hands. In a whirlwind of water vapor, the three clones were hurled backward, and instantly the draining sensation ceased. Jinbe took a defensive stance as the three of them recovered, rising to their feet.

‘So it’s true after all… he really can absorb Haki. No matter. My Fish-Man Karate will keep them at bay!’

All three Kisames chuckled, and the one directly in front of Kisame bared his teeth.

“Tasty, tasty!” Hurling Samehada skyward, the clone formed hand seals at speeds faster than the eye could follow. As the sword came down and Kisame caught it, his hand seals complete, water exploded up from beneath his feet and carried him into the sky, an enormous, liquid dragon forming underneath him.

“Water Style: Water Dragon Jutsu!”

Samehada quivered in his hand, as the dragon swelled.

“You’ll make for a delectable morsel!”

The water dragon blasted forth, maw opening wide and slamming down toward Jinbe, who raised his hands and caught it by the jaw, Haki-coated palms allowing him to grasp the water as though it was a solid object. As the dragon reared its head back to strike again, with Kisame still surfing atop its head, the clones flanking Jinbe formed hand seals of their own. They spewed jets of pressurized water that blasted into Jinbe from both sides, but he raised his hands and seized control of both torrents.

“Mizugokoro!”

Twisting the water around, like a sheet of cloth in his grasp, Jinbe warped the twin streams, and in an instant had wrapped them around the clones that had produced them, binding them in place. With both of Jinbe’s hands preoccupied, the water dragon that had been circling overhead dove down again, its jaws snapping, but Haki coated Jinbe’s head and he met it directly with a headbutt, slamming the dragon backward as the Kisame controlling it struggled to keep his balance.

With a cry of effort, Jinbe ripped the streams of water in his grasp inward, shredding the entrapped clones into water vapor as their own water tore through them. In one fluid movement, he swung the streams of water like whips, and they wrapped around the water dragon’s neck like a leash.

Firm determination etched across his face, Jinbe pulled downward as the water dragon struggled against his grip. Glancing side to side in dismay, the final Kisame leapt off the tethered dragon and brought Samehada down, and slammed it into Jinbe’s chest, the sword’s barbs piercing out of its cloth wrapping and biting into the Fish-Man’s skin with a spray of blood.

Grimacing, Jinbe gritted his teeth furiously, a vein in his head throbbing. Immediately upon contact with Samehada, he felt the Haki that he had diverted to block the attack drain from his chest, and more fled his body along with it, flowing directly into the barbed sword that bit into him.

Still, however, Jinbe stood firm.

“Is that all?!”

With a roar of effort, he heaved the tethered water dragon downward, and slammed it into the marshy soil beneath it, splattering it into a brackish, kelp-filled typhoon. Allowing the water in his grasp to discorporate, Jinbe drew his fist back, and then drove it forward into Kisame, mustering every ounce of Haki he could in spite of Samehada’s draining effect.

With explosive force, Jinbe’s punch slammed through Kisame’s chest, and the final clone exploded with a cry, water gushing outward. As its copy Samehada dissolved with it, the spikes that had pierced Jinbe’s chest disappeared, and blood gushed from the shallow puncture wounds it had left. Breathing heavily, Jinbe allowed his hands to fall ever so slightly, his guard dropping momentarily in the instant of victory.

Big mistake.

Snaking through the swamp water behind him, a fin emerged from the ground, closing in on him at blinding speed, before-

Fwooooom!

Exploding from the murky bog, the real Kisame leapt up toward Jinbe, who turned around just in time for Kisame’s hand to seize him by the throat.

“Hurk!”

Choke-slamming the unsuspecting Fish-Man into the ground, Kisame sank back into the swamp, bubbles gurgling from his mouth as he cackled, dragging Jinbe down into the murky depths of the water.

Wham!

Jinbe’s fist collided with the side of his head, and Kisame was knocked away, spinning head over heel through the water before managing to right himself. The blow had halted his laughter, though the shark-man still wore a deranged grin.

‘To challenge a Fish-Man underwater… even for one as in tune with the water as he, he must have a death wish.’ Jinbe thought, wearily.

Across from him, Kisame appeared unperturbed by Jinbe’s increase in strength and speed. All he could feel was excitement, as Samehada quivered in his hand.

“Let’s see whose power truly controls the depths, shall we?”

It was Jinbe who made the first move. With blinding speed, amplified by the water currents and his own supercharged senses, the Fish-Man closed the gap between them and drove his Haki-coated fist into Kisame with devastating force.

‘Onigawara Seiken!’

Just as fast, however, Kisame lifted Samehada to meet it, and at an even faster rate than his clones’ emulated version, the Haki channeled into Jinbe’s fist was ripped from him and into the legendary blade, which swelled dangerously from the influx of powerful energy as Kisame swung it, knocking his adversary away.

With glee, Kisame swung Samehada around in a wide arc, and it passed through the water as quickly and easily as air. With incredible speed of his own, however, Jinbe raised both hands to his side and twisted the water between them, ensnaring Samehada and halting it an inch from the Fish-Man’s side, the water twisting around the sword tightly.

With almost impossible dexterity, Jinbe released the water between his palms. Like a rubber band that had been twisted and then released, the water “unwound” with incredible force and velocity, using Samehada as its axis, whirling Jinbe’s body around and bringing a mighty spinning kick into the side of Kisame’s head.

Kisame gagged, bubbles erupting from his mouth and his eyes rattling as his brain sloshed against the inside of his skull, concussed by the force of the blow. Seizing him by the front of his Akatsuki robe, Jinbe blasted up through the murky water, and exploded from the surface, ascending into the air with his opponent in tow.

“Hikishio Ipponzeoi!”

Twisting around 180 degrees in midair, Jinbe heaved Kisame up over his shoulder and brought him downward with brutal, ruthless force, hurling him headfirst down into a harder patch of soil. A giant explosion of dirt and silt erupted, as he slammed into the ground with immense force.

“…uuuuuuggggghhhhhhhh…”

Kisame groaned, his vision blurring as he tried to drag himself up from where he had found himself embedded in the dirt, Jinbe landing nimbly a short distance away. Blood gushing from his head and mouth, Kisame spat out a clump of scarlet streaked mud along with several shark teeth. Around them, the fog seemed to thin. Kisame’s jutsu appeared to be discorporating, in his belabored state.

“You lose, Kisame Hoshigaki,” Jinbe rumbled, glowering down at his struggling foe. “Admit defeat with honor, and perhaps you will die with dignity.”

Kisame glowered up at him, eyes bloodshot with rage.

“He who would grovel before his foe has no honor, no dignity,” he spat in defiance.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Jinbe stiffened. His eyes shot up to a nearby rock outcropping, from which the voice had come. Atop it stood a woman, arms crossed in front of her chest. The lower half of her tanned face was obscured, and blonde hair hung down around it. A regal, blue cape wrapped around her shoulders stood out compared to her otherwise white clothing.

Jinbe did not recognize her, but from her clothing and through the process of elimination, she could only be one person.

Tier Harribel, the leader of the Espada.

Alarm flashed through him. From Nel’s description, Harribel was among the strongest Espada. He had not counted on facing an opponent of her caliber… but what was she doing in one of the deepest regions of Akatsuki territory…?

“Who are you?” Jinbe asked sharply. “You’re no Akatsuki.”

It would be prudent to avoid revealing he knew her name, of course. Harribel gazed back down at him, eyes narrowed. Much to Jinbe’s alarm, her hand rose to grip the hilt of the sword strapped to her back. He raised his hands into a defensive position, prepared to fight back against whatever she had to throw out. Harribel’s lips moved as she drew her sword.

“Cascada.”

And in an instant, the marsh lands of the Hidden Mist were engulfed by an enormous tidal wave.

—

Some time earlier…

“Uggggggggggggghhhhh, why do we have to beeeeee here…?”

Lilynette’s whines filled the air as the flames of a campfire crackled between the three Arrancar around it, though the light cast by the fire failed to cut through the thick surrounding mist very effectively. Laying back against a gnarled tree, Starrk snoozed peacefully, hands folded behind his head.

“It’s hot and wet and mosquitos keep biting me!” Lilynette bawled, swatting a bug off her arm as if to prove her point. “I know we just got here, but can’t we just go already?”

“Cease your sniveling, Hollowling,” Baraggan growled from where he stood nearby, gazing out into the fog, intently scanning with his one good eye for anyone who might approach. “Or I will do it for you.”

Lilynette snickered at him, pulling down one of her lower eyelids and sticking out her tongue.

“No way you’ll hurt me. You’re nothing next to me and Starrk!”

Starrk stirred and opened one eye, glancing at Lilynette with an expression full of consternation as Baraggan’s scowl deepened, though he did not glance their way.

“Oi, don’t go picking fights for me. Primera or not, I don’t feel like dealing with his Respira anytime soon.”

Lilynette blew a raspberry and threw herself down on a nearby stump, folding her arms and tapping her foot.

“When’s Harribel gonna get back? You two are no fun.”

“Fun shouldn’t be your primary consideration, little one. Not when fighting in a war.”

Lilynette’s expression brightened as the new voice cut through the fog, and Harribel seemed to materialize from nowhere, invisible until she was only a short distance away.

“Harribel! Tell Barry not to threaten me!”

Harribel glanced at Baraggan, who stared back at her with an expression of unmistakable challenge. The two held each other’s gaze for a few moments, before Baraggan huffed and looked away.

“Anything of note?” Starrk cut in, unfazed by the hostility. “Or have we been sitting around sweating for no reason?”

Harribel nodded.

“The enemy does not seem to have recognized our presence. The mystical fog in this area appears to be concealing our Reiatsu. Even at full emission.”

“Hahhh?!” Lilynette interjected, sitting up on her stump as her eyes went wide and her feet kicked out. “You were emitting Reiatsu, Harribel? We didn’t feel a thing!”

Baraggan bristled at their leader.

“You did not mention you intended to discharge Reiatsu. For what reason would you do something so reckless without communicating your intention? Outside of viewing our lives as dispensable, that is.”

“You should know full well that I am not-”

Fwooooom!

All four Arrancar leapt up in alarm, as a deafening sound erupted from their south, and the ground beneath them trembled. Starrk reached for Lilynette, and the other two for their blades. Though they could not see or sense far enough to identify the source of the sound, the buzzing of disturbed insects and the flapping sound of birds taking flight cut through the air. Around them, the fog thinned, its mystical concealment visibly weakening…

…The very concealment keeping them hidden from prying eyes.

Baraggan drew Arrogante, an expression of malicious intent on his face.

“I’ll turn this region into a wasteland.”

“No!” Harribel lunged forward and seized his wrist as he moved to release his Zanpakuto, and Baraggan turned to glower at her sharply, but her grip held him tight. Slowly, calmly, Harribel continued. “We do not need to make a big scene. I can investigate, and deal with any nearby miscreants quickly, before the fog fully clears. Our plans can continue unimpeded.”

A tense silence filled the air. Starrk looked on, for the first time perturbed. He had never known anyone to be able to lay a hand on Baraggan, as anyone who did so would be slowed down tremendously upon approach. Even Lord Aizen had never done so, as far as Starrk had seen, though he had never known the shinigami to have made an attempt. Even so, Harribel had seized Baraggan as though it was nothing, and was currently holding him firmly. The slight trembling of her hand and Baraggan’s wrist was the only indication that the former Segunda was straining against the former Tres. 

Slowly, an expression of clear disgust on his face, the long-dethroned God-King of Hueco Mundo relented. He lowered his arm, and Arrogante with it.

“You have ten minutes.”

Harribel nodded curtly, and without another word seemed to melt away into the mist.

—

Back in the present…

Water cascaded across the foggy bogs and mountains of the Hidden Mist, an enormous tidal wave sweeping away everything in its path, though managing to remain below the upper boundary of Kisame’s mist layer. Above the deluge of water, Harribel stood perched in midair, Tiburón angled downward, pushing the water outward toward the south sea, intent on washing away the foes that had gotten so dangerously close to their camp site.

Drawing Tiburón back as the wave of water reached the ocean, Harribel sprang off the air, a shockwave rippling from her body as her Sonído effortlessly pushed her past the sound barrier. Angling downward, she shot toward the ocean like a missile.

She’d make sure to finish the job.

Hurled into the depths of the sea by the mighty flood, blood gushing from his wounds, Kisame tumbled head over heel, blood gurgling from his mouth as he struggled to regain his bearings, and the light around him dimming the further he was pushed down into the depths. Somehow, he had managed to keep his grip on Samehada.

With a snarl, he swiped his free hand across the blood seeping from his head, smearing it across his fingers in spite of how diluted it was by the seawater. With blindingly fast hand seals and a poof! of smoke, a shark materialized in the water beside him, and he seized it by the fin as it dragged him along, cutting like a knife through the powerful, swirling currents.

Some distance upward, Jinbe growled in concentration and splayed his arms outward, his hands catching against the water as if snagging a seam, and his momentum slowed dramatically as the water stretched with him, like the bands of a slingshot being pulled backward by his Fish-Man Jujutsu.

Unclenching his hands, Jinbe released the water and it snapped back violently, pushing against the sweeping currents and slamming the wave of water to an immediate halt. The swirling tide rippled backward, settling back to relative normalcy.

Without a moment to breathe, Jinbe spun his body around, his agility amplified by the surrounding water, and swung a Haki-coated fist into the snout of the shark that approached him from behind with its jaws bared. As the shark was knocked aside, its rider leapt off, and formed hand seals with both hands at blinding speed, Samehada’s hilt clenched between his teeth.

“Water Style: A Thousand Hungry Sharks!”

From around Kisame, the ocean’s water exploded outward, materializing into solid sharks made of water, an enormous tidal wave that seemed to fill the entire sea. Jinbe grunted in alarm, and swept his arms around himself, the water seeming to shift with him.

“Murasame!”

All around him, the water twisted into sharks of his own which blasted forth and met Kisame’s head-on. As shark collided with shark, razor-sharp fangs rent apart the water composing each one, the beasts exploding against each other with devastating force that turned water to foam.

“Hehehehe…”

In the spot where he floated, Kisame chuckled ominously, ripping off the tattered remains of his Akatsuki robe and revealing his muscular frame underneath. Samehada quivered in his hand, its spikes seeming to multiply, rippling up his arms, shoulders and upper back. As he gazed upon Jinbe with bloodthirsty eyes, he spoke, his voice rippling through the water as clearly as air.

“Come take my life if you can, little fish. You’re out of your depth.”

His body morphed, fins sprouting from his shoulders and back, Samehada disappearing into his flesh, fused into his being. Malevolent chakra emanated from him – it was for this form that he had been given the nickname of “The Tailed Beast Without A Tail.”

With impossible speed, he shot forward through the water like a bullet. Equally agile, Jinbe reacted and thrust a Haki-infused palm out to block, but spikes sprouted from Kisame’s fin and drove through Jinbe’s hand with a spray of blood. As the Fish-Man cried out, Kisame slammed into him and pushed him backward, as the Haki drained from Jinbe’s hand like water into a sponge. As pain flared through Jinbe, it was accompanied by alarm.

‘Through contact…?!’

Blasting forward, the currents of the ocean propelling him, Kisame struck out with devastating body blows, battering Jinbe furiously. With a bellow of effort, Jinbe drove his uninjured fist into Kisame’s face, but the shark-man opened his jaws to reveal massive rows of teeth, and bit down, sinking his fangs into Jinbe’s hand, causing him to scream again.

Swinging his arm, Jinbe hurled Kisame off of himself, knocking a few teeth loose in the process, and upon being freed shot forward at blinding speed himself. Blazing between the still-swarming water sharks, the two rode the ocean currents at a breakneck pace, circling each other and driving inward, Jinbe’s refined martial arts colliding with Kisame’s ruthless brutality, neither side disadvantaged in the slightest as they pressed each other once, twice, thrice.

It became apparent all too soon, however, that one did indeed have the advantage. As his blood stained the water with every attack that ripped into him, and the energy that would normally bolster him draining away as though leaking from a faucet, fatigue racked Jinbe’s body, while Kisame’s already muscular form appeared only to swell more and more.

In the depths of Kisame’s soul, Samehada purred. The power that filled Kisame now was reminiscent of that which he had once consumed from the Eight-Tails’ Jinchuuriki, Killer B. With elation, Kisame let out an animalistic roar and swiped aside Jinbe’s Haki-infused guard, before lunging in and sinking his teeth into the Fish-Man’s throat.

As Kisame tasted blood, for a split second the thrill of victory coursed through him.

A moment later, agony exploded from his back.

Blood gushed, and he howled, his jaw unclenching.

Far above them, surveying the fight wearily from a distance, Harribel floated, Tiburón pointed downward and smoking faintly, having just released an Ola Azul that had pierced through Kisame’s back from afar – and Jinbe’s chest, simultaneously.

As Kisame’s eyes bulged in indignant fury, the wounded Jinbe let out a determined cry and seized him by the throat, willing the ocean currents to blast them downward. Haki continued to drain from him with every moment that he spent in contact with Kisame, but Jinbe paid it no heed as blood streamed from his chest and throat.

Further and further down they went, Kisame struggling furiously against Jinbe’s adrenaline-fueled strength. The wound in the Akatsuki’s chest had already closed and healed, but even as more and more Haki streamed into him, he found himself unable to break the Fish-Man’s iron grip.

‘8,000 meters…’ Jinbe thought deliriously. ‘8,500… 9,000…’

As the water pressure built around them and darkness swallowed their senses, Kisame howled in fury, kicking and slashing and screaming, but Jinbe paid him no heed, all of his attention focused on their destination. He had sensed it upon being blasted into the ocean, his deep attunement to the sea serving as a substitute for his still-defunct Observation Haki.

Fwoooooom!

Water erupted into air, as oxygen assaulted the fighters’ skin and light blinded their eyes. The two of them had pierced through a bubble veil, and now plummeted through open air, past coral patterned buildings as they crashed into the heart of Fish-Man Island, a paradise at the depths of the sea. Dust plumed upward from their impact points. Gazing up at the shimmering lights above, Jinbe gasped for breath, slowly and tiredly appraising his injuries. 

Kisame’s bite had not pierced him too deeply, and it seemed his throat was unobstructed. That was good. 

The attack that had punctured through his chest had missed any vital organs. That was also good.

It was bleeding terribly. That was bad.

Dragging himself to his feet with a groan, Jinbe had no time to enjoy the scenery of his old home before the rubble that covered Kisame’s impact point blasted upward, a roar of fury ripping from Kisame’s mouth as he staggered to his feet, disheveled and bleeding profusely.

“You… I’ll tear you apart!”

Kisame staggered forward on uneven feet, but even as he moved, his flesh rippled, spikes appearing to pierce back out from his skin and melt off of it as Samehada separated itself from his body again, and he went down to one knee, breathing raggedly as he leaned on his sword.

Slowly, gaze hardening in determination, Jinbe marched toward his winded foe, who struggled to pull himself up and raise Samehada. Jinbe struck out and knocked the blade aside, and it spun out of Kisame’s hand and slammed into a nearby building, sticking into the wall by its spikes.

Kisame snarled, but as he opened his mouth Jinbe’s hand struck out again and his jaw snapped out of place, dislocated instantly before he could make any more use out of his razor sharp teeth. Kisame howled and staggered back as Jinbe continued to advance on him, striking him repeatedly with powerful body blows that left him reeling. 

With a snarl as he reached up and snapped his jaw back into place, Kisame turned and ran toward the bubble barrier that separated Fish-Man Island from the surrounding depths. It was clear that he had hit his limit, and without Samehada…

Without looking back, he plunged through the barrier. The familiar, soothing chill of the ocean greeted his skin as he exited the air bubble that comprised the undersea island, and he felt the elation that came with escape. Glancing back, Jinbe stood at the edge of the bubble, gazing out at him.

Kisame felt a chill. Why on earth wasn’t the Fish-Man chasing him? It had seemed like he was more at home in the water as well. In that moment, though he hadn’t perceived it previously, he felt the sudden sensation as though many eyes were watching him.

Slowly, he turned to gaze out into the black ocean depths. Glimmers of light gazed back at him – a thousand giant eyes, belonging to a thousand giant creatures. Enormous Sea Kings, which had been seemingly confined to the ocean depths.

Hungry Sea Kings.

Kisame had barely any time to react, to conjure a jutsu or to cry out in alarm before the Sea Kings swarmed him. He brought his hands together, but not a single hand seal was formed before the ocean water was stained with his blood, and his agonized screams of pain and horror echoed outward, reaching Jinbe’s ears but nobody else’s as they faded away into the murky unknown.

No announcer’s voice rang out to proclaim his death, for it had been rendered dead silent by Blackbeard’s power.

Jinbe closed his eyes and bowed his head in silent prayer, arms crossed over his chest.

‘It doesn’t repay my debt to you, Crocodile… but it’s a start.’

After a moment, his weary eyes opened and he turned slightly to acknowledge the presence behind him, who had touched down moments prior.

“Come to finish off a foe who has already been weakened? I would expect nothing less of one who would intervene in a battle that isn’t theirs.”

Harribel regarded him wearily, her own arms folded and her head tilted slightly.

“Your opponent might very well have won, had I not interfered. You would have preferred that?”

Jinbe turned to regard her. The two stood ten meters apart, but the oppressive tension between them made it feel as though they were closer.

“I disagree that he would have won. But were that the case, then he should have won.”

“You feel indignation on behalf of your enemy? He would certainly not have felt the same about you, were your roles reversed.”

“You attacked him from behind. An honorless enemy ought not inspire honorless tactics.”

Harribel fell silent. For whatever reason, his words seemed to have struck a chord with her.

“…You may well be right.”

Reaching up, she hooked a finger through Tiburón’s cross guard, and drew it from its sheath, twirling it into her hand and pointing it toward Jinbe.

“Let us settle this fairly, then.”

Jinbe huffed, and cracked his neck, before raising both hands and settling into a fighting stance. Blood dripped faintly from the side of his face, but as Haki welled back up in his chest and he became filled with resolve, the pain from his wounds seemed to dim. 

“Very well.”

Jinbe lunged forward just as Tiburón became charged with amber energy and fired off a sharp, piercing blast of pure Reiatsu.

“Ola Azul!”

Swinging a Haki-coated hand to the side, Jinbe slammed the back of his fist into the attack, deflecting it to the side and shattering the energy into golden sparks. As Harribel followed up with more blasts, Jinbe’s hands became a blur as he deflected each one at blinding speed, dispersing them into a cascade of golden energy.

“Fish-Man Karate: Shizurase!!”

However, faster than Jinbe could counter, the onslaught of attacks kept coming, and he found himself pushed backward as he raised his Armament-hardened arms to defend, gritting his teeth and groaning under the assault.

“K-Kairagi Glaze…!”

As the Ola Azul blasts peppered his skin, thin cuts began to open up across Jinbe’s body as his Armament began to splinter. Across from him, her face a mask of deathly calm, Harribel continued to assail him ruthlessly, her hand stone-steady.

With a bellow, Jinbe wrenched his arms outward, and his Haki exploded in power, rippling out from his body and dissipating the onslaught of attacks. In the momentary respite, he charged forward and lunged for Harribel, hand outstretched.

With blinding speed, Harribel dropped low to the ground, and the Fish-Man’s strike hit nothing but air. Swinging her foot upward, the Tres Espada drove a powerful kick into Jinbe’s stomach, knocking him skyward, and then leapt after him, her form blurring as her Sonído propelled her upward.

Undeterred by midair combat, Jinbe moved to counter as Harribel struck out with Tiburón, deflecting every sword strike with expert dexterity, every sweeping blow knocked aside or parried. Not to be outdone in close-quarters, however, the leader of the Espada raised her blade upward and allowed her Reiatsu to bubble up into a boiling point.

“Cascada: Hirviendo!”

From the bubble barrier far above, an enormous column of water ripped downward and slammed into the point of Harribel’s sword, heating to boiling point in an instant, and then blasting out as she swung Tiburón downward, slamming into Jinbe’s chest with sweltering force.

Jinbe cried out as he was hurled downward, blisters forming across his body as he slammed feet first into the ground, which crumbled behind him as he was pushed back by the onslaught of sweltering water.

Slowly, the deluge abated, and Jinbe dropped to one knee, panting heavily as steam sizzled from his body, and blood and sweat poured down his face. His vision blurred, exhaustion settling in.

From above him, Harribel descended, touching down across from him. Slowly, with defiance, Jinbe pulled himself to his feet and raised his hands once more, as the Espada watched impassively. It was clear to both of them, by now, who was going to win the fight. In spite of how fiercely the Fish-Man fought, Harribel remained unharmed, and had not yet released her Resurrección.

Even still, Jinbe didn’t falter. He met Harribel’s gaze evenly, his determination steadfast in the face of what appeared to be certain defeat.

“Why do you not flee?” the Espada’s leader asked, quietly. “Surrender? Ask for mercy? Why throw your life away?”

“I am the helmsman of the Straw Hat Pirates,” Jinbe growled out, without hesitation. “My captain will one day be the King of the Pirates. I acknowledge no other monarch as my superior, Tier Harribel.”

For a moment, Harribel looked slightly surprised. Then, her face settled into one of resignation.

“Very well…”

She raised Tiburón in front of herself, the blade pointed downward.

“Hunt… Tiburón.”

Water exploded up from her feet. Jinbe didn’t flinch, and his facial expression didn’t so much as twitch as the column of liquid split in half, and Harribel’s released state came into focus through the mist.

Unlike many of the other Espada, Harribel’s appearance did not change drastically upon release. Much of her clothing had peeled away, her mask having disappeared entirely and her pants having transformed into a sharp, armored attire that revealed more of her skin. Tiburón had transformed into a huge pata that resembled a shark tooth. 

Most strikingly, the extravagant cape that had hung down around her had warped into two long tendrils extending from each of her shoulder blades, which were both twisted into an ornate spiral shape. Sharp and economic, like the rest of her clothing, but ornate in the way that her attire otherwise was not, their black and blue patterning was symbolic of her status as the monarch of Hueco Mundo. Similarly, the crown that had sat on her head remained, but now floated in midair above her wild blond hair, its splayed shape having become vertical, and much more jagged and tooth-like.

In spite of the minimal changes, visually speaking, the air seemed to grow thicker. Harribel’s aura of power, which had already been present, seemed to intensify upon her release. The bubble around Fish-Man Island quivered slightly, its surface tension suddenly strained as the surrounding waters became stark silent. Jinbe found it slightly more difficult to breathe. Otherwise, however, he still didn’t move.

Harribel met his gaze evenly. Slowly, Jinbe swallowed. His mouth had become very dry.

“So, you have finally elected to show your true power. Then-”

Schleck!

…

…

…

Red filled the air. Jinbe’s eyes bulged and he staggered slightly, blood spilling profusely from the gash that had opened across his chest. He looked down, shock and dismay written across his face. Across from him, Harribel did not appear to have moved, but the Reiatsu emanating from Tiburón told the story.

In a single stroke, faster than the eye could see, the fight was over.

Jinbe groaned and fell over backward, landing spread-eagled on the ground as blood pooled around him. As she moved over to stand by his side, Harribel gazed down at him, mournfully. When she spoke, her voice was cold, but calm, and not unkind.

“You are a worthy foe, Helmsman. I could not insult you by finishing this fight without releasing.”

Jinbe coughed, a humorless laugh bubbling up from his split chest.

“I… I s-see… thank you, for that…”

The two remained silent for a few moments, one standing victorious and the other downed and dying, silhouetted against the luminescent lights of Fish-Man Island. Jinbe’s gaze looked toward the sky, the shimmering bubble that he had grown up under. Faintly, he smiled.

“To be felled in battle by a worthy foe… I suppose I couldn’t have asked for a better ending…”

His eyelids felt heavy, but he didn’t close them.

“I only wish… that I had managed to make it back to my crew…”

“The Straw Hat Pirates, that you spoke of?”

“Indeed… they were wonderful comrades… and I had sworn my allegiance to my captain’s cause… my greatest shame, that I will never see it realized…”

“…Your dedication is commendable. And I am sorry that it had to be this way.” Harribel averted her gaze, forlorn. That kind of comradery… was it even possible for Arrancars?

Jinbe chuckled weakly, smiling.

“There is no point being sorry. You were simply the stronger warrior. In any case, I cannot say that I hope you win this war, Espada… yet even so, I wish you luck.”

Harribel bowed her head, as Jinbe’s tired eyes slid closed, and did not open again. His smile never quite faded.

Slowly, Harribel turned away from Jinbe’s body, and cast her gaze around. Before she left, there was one more order of business she had to take care of. Finally, her eyes fell upon the nearby building where Samehada had been embedded. She had witnessed the dangers that Kisame’s sword had posed, and knew it needed to be destroyed, for safety’s sake.

However, though the cracks and puncture marks from where the sword had impacted remained, the spike-covered sword was nowhere to be seen.

Harribel’s breath caught in her throat, and alarm flashed in her head. Glancing around sharply, she searched for any glimpse of the blade. 

Samehada was nowhere to be found.

Unease swirled in her gut. Had someone taken the sword? That seemed impossible, she or Jinbe would surely have noticed. Had the sword scampered off on its own? Possible, given that it seemed to have been alive, but it seemed far-fetched that it would have escaped Fish-Man Island in such a short time.

Her instincts screamed at her that the sword needed to be found. But after a few moments of hesitation, Harribel pushed them down. She had bigger things to concern herself with, grander plans. Samehada would need to wait for another time.

With that thought sticking in her mind, she leapt upward, passed through the bubble, and disappeared into the shadowy depths, en route to the surface.

—

[Interlude 2: Marineford]

Mihawk let out an aggravated sigh and dropped his Den Den Mushi’s receiver back onto the snail’s back, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his forehead, pushing down his slight fatigue. Though he had been trying to get in touch with Kuma for some time, he hadn’t managed to make contact. He knew of course that the bear-man carried a messenger snail with him wherever he went, which meant one of three possibilities.

One, Kuma had misplaced his Den Den Mushi, either through personal carelessness or due to being accosted in a combat situation. The former was unlikely, the latter possible though not necessarily probable. Kuma was a cautious and powerful fighter – the likelihood that he had been overcome to the extent of losing his possessions was altogether low.

Two, Kuma was dead. More believable. With the announcer offline, they had no way to keep track of combatants who had expired, and it was probably more likely for Kuma to be killed in battle than to survive yet be robbed of his snail.

Three, Kuma was both alive and in possession of his Den Den Mushi, but was deliberately avoiding Mihawk’s calls. This was the most likely and most frustrating possibility. Kuma had always been an enigma, but to actively go rogue in this manner was unlike him, and he had picked a terrible time to break character if that was the truth.

Regardless, it was clear that Mihawk was getting nowhere with his efforts. Turning away from the snail, he shifted his gaze to the other person who remained in the room, who was currently petting her recently-returned snake absentmindedly.

“Nothing yet?”

“Nothing.”

Mihawk and Boa fell silent, though not uncomfortably so. Neither of them were the type to particularly enjoy idle chit chat for the most part, so Mihawk found her company largely enjoyable.

A scratching at the window shook him out of his thoughts. Chittering on the sill was what looked to be a small bird, but upon closer inspection it appeared to be made of… paper?

Boa rose from her seat and crossed over to the window, pulling it open and scooping up the “creature”. She scanned the words that had been scrawled across the paper.

“It seems we’ll have a visitor arriving soon.”

Mihawk folded his hands in front of him, a serious expression on his face as he nodded silently, and Boa left the room. It was time to see if they couldn’t arrange an alliance.

—

[Battle 2: Itachi VS Ulquiorra –
Hueco Mundo – 8:34 AM]

Setting down his Den Den Mushi’s receiver, Kuma sat atop a large sand dude, the wastelands of Hueco Mundo stretching out vast distances in every direction. Looming overhead, so large it looked near, but far enough that he didn’t bother hiding, was the towering fortress of Las Noches, which he had been sent to scout out.

Of course, the subject of his allegiance was a complicated one at the moment. He had been ordered here by Doflamingo, not long after Blackbeard had headed off on his own to who knows where, melting away into the shadows with his new little servant in tow. However, privately Kuma had maintained contact with his allies back at Marineford, funneling his intel back to the other Warlords through Law. It had been around three days ago that Law had informed him of his tentative alliance with the woman from the Espada, Nelliel, and began to integrate Kuma into their own covert operations. Since then, he had kept in regular contact with both of them, updating them on what he knew of his other allies’ activities, and even delivering Gecko Moria’s brooch to Law.

Though he frankly didn’t trust Law or Nel all that much more than Blackbeard or Doflamingo, he had no reason to say so to their faces. Throughout his time working for the World Government, Kuma had learned to speak less, and obey more – or at least, make a worthwhile show of it. Those who spoke their mind carelessly tended to end up dead, more often than not. He was on his own side, at the end of the day, and would collaborate with whomever it took to win that wish at the end of the war. To finally reach that miracle that he had never dared wish for, and fix the many tragedies that had befallen his family.

He took a moment to close his eyes in silent prayer, and then slowly, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and to his feet. His newest ‘ally’ would be arriving soon, as Nel had informed him over the Den Den Mushi, and once again, he found himself loathing the company he was forced to keep. Through his previous communications with Nel, he had learned all about their friend from the Akatsuki… and he could not say he was a fan.

BOOOOOM!

An enormous blast ripped from the top of the fortress, light hurtling through the air, splitting across to the horizon in an instant, but dissipating into nothingness before it could even exit the desert ring.

Kuma did not flinch. This was not the first blast that had been released from the fortress today; it appeared that the man of the hour, the Espada Ulquiorra, had grown restless and was testing out his diminished power through projecting large volumes of energy. Or perhaps he was trying to expend whatever Reiatsu his fellows had pumped into him – Nel had mentioned that such treatment had been administered, and that the man had found it insulting. Whatever the reason, large blasts had intermittently split the sky for the past while, and they had stopped catching Kuma by surprise.

Still, even weakened, it was clear Ulquiorra was formidable. Though Itachi’s capabilities were outside of Kuma’s current understanding, he found himself wondering whether the man would be up to the task he had claimed.

As if on cue with his thoughts, an unzipping sound filled the air, and Kuma turned as space unfurled a short distance behind him, the sand beneath swirling faintly. Itachi emerged from the Garganta, inclining his head slightly in greeting.

“Bartholomew Kuma, I take it?”

Kuma’s eyes narrowed.

“Itachi Uchiha,” he acknowledged, softly. “I cannot say I am pleased to meet you.”

“That doesn’t concern me,” Itachi replied, detachment in his voice. “I’m here for Ulquiorra.”

His gaze rose up the side of the enormous fortress in the distance. Its size was dizzying, but as his eyes gleamed red he could make out every detail of its surface. Finally, he reached the top, and though too small for any normal person to spot, eyes like Itachi’s could make out a tiny figure perched atop the enormous pillars that crowned Las Noches.

Though he had plenty of experience tracking down dangerous targets, Itachi felt a strong sense of tension in the air. Fearing for his own life was a feeling that had long since eluded him, but he would be a fool not to take this opponent seriously.

Sharingan deactivating, he glanced toward Kuma.

“Law told me that you could get me to the top of the fortress.”

“I can. However, my aim is less precise when propelling somebody to a place I’ve never been before. If you collide with the side of the fortress at the speed of light, you could be killed on impact.”

“It will not be an issue.”

Itachi studied the fortress intently.

“How many of the Espada are present, do you know?”

Kuma hummed.

“Of the nine remaining, Harribel, Grimmjow, and Luppi are out on patrol and Baraggan has been away for several days, though I do not know why. Nnoitra has been absent from the beginning of course, and Starrk departed a short time ago for reasons also unknown to me. Which means, other than Ulquiorra-”

“The only person guarding the fortress is Szayelaporro.”

Kuma nodded. Itachi considered the information carefully.

“My powers are most effective in a one-on-one fight. Even weakened, Ulquiorra seems to be formidable-”

As if on cue, another massive Cero blast ripped from the top of the fortress, blasting across the sky and dispersing into the distance.

“-so it would be inconvenient to have to deal with an adaptable opponent such as Szayelaporro at the same time.”

Kuma was silent for a moment.

“…You are asking me to distract Szayelaporro while you battle Ulquiorra atop the canopy.”

Itachi nodded.

“Mount an assault on the fortress from ground level. You don’t need to kill him, just keep him busy until I’ve killed Ulquiorra.”

“No.” Kuma replied, and Itachi’s eyebrows shot up. It seemed he had not expected a refusal. “It is important to avoid creating too much commotion. If the other Espada recognize that their fortress is under assault, we will only have a limited time before they all come rushing back.”

“Ulquiorra’s display atop the canopy will work to our advantage,” Itachi pointed out. “As long as I am able to keep our fight contained to that vicinity, any stray devastation will appear from the outside to be more of the same.”

“I doubt that Ulquiorra’s attacks will look the same when he is actually fighting seriously, but in truth I am more concerned about Szayelaporro. I would not have the freedom to pressure him too strongly, nor inflict too much damage on the fortress, or he would call for reinforcements. However, were I to comply with your request, I would need to, in spite of this, occupy his attention well enough to distract him from your battle with Ulquiorra. This would be a difficult balance to achieve. Ergo, I refuse.”

Itachi frowned. “I’m certain you would be able to figure it out.”

“I am not.” Kuma’s eyes narrowed, and he fixed Itachi with a fierce glare. “Make no mistake: I am not your errand boy, Itachi Uchiha. I will not accept dying in this war. I have far too much to lose.”

Itachi was silent. Kuma continued.

“I agreed to deliver you to the fortress’s apex, so that you will be able to engage Ulquiorra. Whatever happens to you after that is not my responsibility.”

Itachi was silent for a long moment, and then averted his gaze.

“…Very well. I will make do.”

Kuma stared at him intensely, and then finally turned his gaze upward toward the top of the fortress, raising his palm as though gauging his trajectory. At his side, Itachi stood silently. Finally, Kuma broke the silence.

“I am ready. Once again, I remind you that you will need to be conscientious of your landing.”

Itachi nodded silently, and Kuma took a stance, raising his hand in preparation.

“Kuma.”

The bear man raised an eyebrow. Itachi stared intently at the top of the fortress.

“…Whatever it is you are fighting for… I wish you the best with it.”

Kuma did not respond for a moment. Then, he nodded.

“I wish you luck as well, with finding something worth fighting for.”

Without giving Itachi a chance to respond, he brought his hand down. His palm struck Itachi’s back, and an instant later, he was gone, as though he had never been there to begin with.

—

The wind ripped past Itachi’s ears. To a normal person, the trip would have been over so quickly that they would not have been able to perceive a single thing before slamming to a very final halt at their destination, splattered against the side of the Espada’s stronghold. To someone like Itachi, however, who possessed an almost peerless command over the Mangekyo Sharingan, the nanoseconds passed by at a snail’s pace. He could see the way that the air rippled around him, every molecule warping from his path, the speed of sound left far behind as he hurtled toward the pinnacle of Las Noches. 

Below him, if he were to glance down, he would have seen Kuma dashing in the opposite direction of the fortress, a pinprick against the open desert. However, the bear man had been pushed from his mind, as every ounce of his focus was concentrated on landing safely, and soon enough would be on the fight ahead.

As the lip of the fortress loomed up before him, Itachi twisted his body head over heels. To Kuma’s credit, his aim had only been slightly off; Itachi was going to hit the side of the building just a couple dozen meters below the top. Angling his face downward, he raised two fingers in front of his lips, and from his mouth a blast of fire erupted, propelling him upward with the force of a jet. With his other hand, he seized a kunai from his robes, and twisting around again, hurled it into the side of the building just as his fire jutsu launched him up past it.

In an instant, he cleared the edge of the rooftop, and in another instant, the wire he had wrapped around his arm snapped taut, the other end of the wire attached to the kunai, and the kunai anchored to the building by a powerful stream of chakra that had been channeled through it. Acting as a tether, the kunai and wire ripped the momentum from Itachi’s body, halting him in midair. A moment later, he began to fall, and the wire around his arm unfurled as he landed atop the roof in a crouch, thoroughly unharmed.

Itachi took no time to celebrate or feel satisfaction, and he straightened up, his gaze already fixed on the figure atop one of the near pillars. Ulquiorra stared down at him, unphased by the sudden intrusion.

“…An interloper? You were unwise to come here, adversary.”

Itachi stared back up, fearlessly.

“You’d be unwise to fight back.”

Wordlessly, Ulquiorra stepped off the edge of his pillar. Hands in his pockets, he plummeted down toward the top of the fortress. Itachi tensed, readying himself as Ulquiorra descended-

The Espada vanished in midair.

Itachi’s eyes widened.

In an instant, a shimmering orange rib cage materialized around him, just as the Espada’s clawed hand pierced forward, striking one of the ribs with a sickening crunch! Cracks spread out several centimeters from the impact point as Ulquiorra struggled against the Susanoo, but it held firm. From within the rib cage, Itachi’s eyes flashed blood red, and Ulquiorra froze, eyes widening and lips parting slightly.

The area faded away, the image of Itachi’s eyes seeming to fill Ulquiorra’s mind as the rib cage dissipated. Thorn-covered brambles ripped up from the stone beneath him, wrapping around his body and binding him in place, Itachi’s dark chuckle echoing through the air.

“The Sharingan sees through you, Ulquiorra Cifer.”

Ulquiorra pressed his lips back together in a firm line.

“Weak.”

Sweeping his arm to the side, he ripped through the brambles like paper and the Genjutsu shattered into nothingness, twisting into the air like glass shards, which then melted out of existence. Itachi, putting distance between himself and Ulquiorra, moved his hand like a blur, and dozens – hundreds? – of shuriken hurled through the air. Raising his fingers in front of his mouth, Itachi blew a plume of fire which dispersed to each spinning shuriken, turning the projectiles into a hail of razor-sharp hellfire that rained down upon his foe.

With a swift, effortless motion however, Ulquiorra drew his sword from its sheath and carved through each shuriken, his arm equally fast. An instant later, he had blasted forth and closed the distance between himself and Itachi, Murciélago slamming furiously into the tantō sword that seemed to materialize in Itachi’s hands, grinding against the blade.

Ulquiorra moved like a demon, alternating sharp jabs and slashes of the sword with piercing stabs of his razor sharp fingernails – but Itachi was his equal, matching every blow with the precision of an elite shinobi. The two spun and danced and clashed across the roof’s surface, unyielding in their ferocity.

Ulquiorra’s eyes flashed, his perceptions in overdrive, razor-sharp even without the aid of his Pesquisa.

‘His movements are lagging slightly behind his reaction time.’ he observed. ‘And his sword’s cutting power and durability are enhanced by that energy he’s channeling through it.’ 

To the trained eyes of an elite Arrancar, the flow of chakra through each and every one of Itachi’s weapons was plain as day, though Ulquiorra had no frame of reference to compare it to. If he had, he would have known that Itachi’s chakra control was flawless; the chakra coating the edge of the tantō was perfectly razor-sharp, to an extent that few shinobi in history would be able to replicate. Even so, it was only enough to equal Murciélago.

The two separated, falling back. Neither smiled, for they were not the type, but Itachi felt a flicker of confidence.

“Impressive,” he remarked. “Especially considering you should be weakened by the Nine-Tails’ chakra, your speed is exceptional.”

‘But my Sharingan is more than enough for you.’ he added silently.

As though he had read his mind, however, Ulquiorra replied.

“Oh? Are you feeling satisfied with yourself, being able to keep up…”

His fist slammed into Itachi’s chest. The Uchiha’s eyes widened, and he doubled over slightly, the wind knocked from his lungs. A split second prior, they had been over a dozen meters apart.

“…with merely that level of speed?”

Spinning in place, Ulquiorra swung Itachi around and hurled him away, sending him tumbling head over foot across the fortress, bouncing repeatedly off the stone. Instantly, Ulquiorra matched his speed, catching up to him and seizing him by the front of the robes, before hurling him full force off the edge of the building.

As Itachi flew, his Susanoo rib cage materialized around him again – just in time, too, as Ulquiorra’s Cero slammed into it, blasting him further past the horizon. Following him, Ulquiorra dashed through the air, leaping off of Reishi footholds, Ceros blasting from his fingers and knocking Itachi further and further. With each impact, part of the rib cage was blasted away, though each time it reformed itself seconds later.

As Itachi flew, he felt the air temperature spike, and in alarm craned his neck. Beneath him, the desert environment had given way to bubbling volcanic rock. Though he was unfamiliar with the locale, this ring of the Espada’s territory was modeled after the red-hot wastelands of Hell.

Booooooom!

With an immense impact, Itachi slammed to the ground, ashes exploding upward, billowing into the air from his collision, though the Susanoo absorbed the majority of the impact. Panting heavily, he dropped to one knee, the rib cage dissipating, and immediately was assaulted by the searing heat of the air. Ash filled his lungs, and he coughed violently. His Akatsuki robe sizzled, already severely ripped from the impact. Across from him, Ulquiorra touched down, sword returned to its sheath, a look of morose disappointment on his face.

“Pathetic. What utter trash.”

Slowly, Itachi straightened up, catching his breath.

“I’ll admit… I may have taken you too lightly. But if you think you are the only one who was holding back, you’re mistaken.”

Wordlessly, Ulquiorra slashed his nails across his own chest, drawing blood and raising his hand to point his scarlet-coated fingers toward Itachi. Energy twisted inward, and space around his hand seemed to distort violently, rippling under Ulquiorra’s power.

“Irrelevant, in the face of oblivion.”

A Gran Rey Cero exploded forth from Ulquiorra’s hand. Space in its path was rent apart, and the lava rivers around them turned to vapor from the sheer pressure. In an instant, the blast closed the gap toward Itachi, whose wide eyes flashed bright red as he was engulfed. Volcanoes kilometers away erupted, violently split apart from the force of the unparalleled blast. Even with Ulquiorra’s reduced Reiatsu, it was certain: nothing could have survived that.

Fwoosh!

From the smoke cloud, a column of orange miasma erupted, carving a trench through the ground toward Ulquiorra, who leaned to the side and allowed it to rip past him. In the distance behind him, another volcano split in half. Ulquiorra’s eyes widened as he glanced to the side, realizing how close the attack had come to striking him.

In the center of the split fog, Itachi’s Susanoo rippled, flesh wrapping itself around enormous orange bones, and clothing wrapping around flesh. At its center, the Yata Mirror glimmered. Having mimicked the Gran Rey Cero’s properties and matched it in equal measure, it had managed to deflect the unassailable attack. 

At the Susanoo’s center, Itachi stood, the remainder of his robe burned away by the blast, leaving only the navy blue clothing he wore underneath.

“Not bad. I certainly would have died, were it not for this.”

Ulquiorra scowled. His hand closed on his sword’s hilt once again.

“Enclose, Murciélago.”

Black and green energy rippled forth, enormous black wings extending from his back as he entered his released state. Across from him, Itachi’s gaze sharpened.

‘So even weakened, he can still transform… impossible to know for sure if he’ll be able to enter that second state of his or not, though.’

“Luz Afilada!”

In Ulquiorra’s hand, a long, green blade of pure light materialized, and with a swing his energy assailed the Armored Susanoo, which raised the Totsuka Blade and parried. Despite lacking physical form, the ethereal swords clashed as though they were physical objects, and the ground ruptured around them, lava spewing violently forth.

Far faster than before, the two clashed swords in a furious flurry of blows. Despite Ulquiorra’s increase in speed, Itachi’s eyes kept up, and each strike of the Luz Afilada found itself deflected either by the Totsuka Blade or Yata Mirror. Despite its enormous bulk, Itachi’s Susanoo moved across the battlefield with all of the agility that Itachi himself possessed, and perhaps more.

Ulquiorra’s wings flapped, and he blasted into the sky, putting distance between himself and his adversary.

“Luz de la Luna: Aniquilar!”

Spears of light materialized around him and blasted down through the air. Itachi’s Susanoo leapt backward, carving some of the descending spears from the air with the Totsuka Blade and deflecting others with the Yata Mirror. At Ulquiorra’s mental command, the spears twisted in midair, circling the Susanoo as they rained down, more like homing projectiles than anything, but Itachi ripped through them all with perfect accuracy.

As the spears began to abate, Itachi raised the Yata Mirror, tilting it so that its edge lined up with Ulquiorra’s position in midair. Balancing the Totsuka Blade against its surface, he took aim, the point of the blade angled toward his opponent along the edge of the mirror.

With a burst of spiritual energy, the Totsuka Blade expanded in length, blasting through the air as its point ripped toward Ulquiorra. With incredible dexterity, however, Ulquiorra raised his Afilada and deflected the point of the Totsuka Blade along its edge. The piercing attack blew past him, sparks of energy spurting from the clashing blades as he descended toward Itachi, grinding along its side.

“Impressive expansion speed. I’ve seen faster.”

Bringing the Afilada down, he carved through the Susanoo’s wrist, and the hand holding the sword split off and dissipated, the Totsuka Blade retracting and falling to the ground a short distance from Itachi. Keeping up the pressure, Ulquiorra carved furiously against the Yata Mirror, which blocked every strike without a scratch.

Ba-bump.

Ulquiorra grunted, his entire body seeming to throb. Pain shot from his chest. His strikes slowed, and became sloppier.

‘Ugh!’

Seizing his opportunity, Itachi shot the Susanoo’s arm forward, and its hand reformed as it closed around Ulquiorra’s throat. Within the safety of the Susanoo, Itachi remained composed and unafraid.

“There it is. I was wondering how long you’d last before the Nine-Tails’ chakra caught up with you.”

Ulquiorra struggled against the Susanoo’s grip as he felt the fox’s poison boiling in his gut, its effects having snuck up on him. The strength had abruptly fled his limbs; it seemed the vitality he had managed to regain the past few days had only lasted him so long.

With a roar, the Susanoo slammed Ulquiorra bodily into the ground, and the searing heat of the lava-coated soil blazed against his pale skin. Raising the Yata Mirror up, the Susanoo brought its edge down into Ulquiorra’s chest, and did it again, and again. Ulquiorra coughed up blood, struggling to pull himself up but finding himself slammed down again by every subsequent strike.

Finally, with silent fury and defiance, Ulquiorra managed to force himself up and caught the edge of the Yata Mirror in his hand. Black energy boiled around him, with small amounts of the fox’s orange flickering within. His clothes burned away and his skin changed color – not quite identical to his second release, for the horns atop his head were shorter and his black markings were less pronounced, but as close to it as he could manage under the circumstances.

The Susanoo struggled against Ulquiorra’s grip, attempting to push the Yata Mirror down against him. Raising its hand, it beckoned the Totsuka Blade, which hurled through the air to return to his grip, but Ulquiorra’s free hand shot out and seized it midair. With a heave, he hurled the Susanoo back, and deftly spun the Totsuka Blade around in his grip, angling it toward Itachi like a lance. From his hand, black Reiatsu spread through the spiritual weapon like black ink, its orange sheen eclipsed by darkness.

“Die.”

With cold detachment, Ulquiorra drove the blade forward, and the Yata Mirror rose to meet it. In a cascade of energy, the unblockable spear met the unbreakable shield. For a moment, the two struggled furiously against each other, but it soon became clear which side would win. Amplified by Ulquiorra’s Reiatsu, the Totsuka Blade won out. A hole bore through the Yata Mirror, and the Totsuka Blade penetrated clean through the Susanoo.

However, Itachi had managed to angle the shield just right so that when the blade pierced through, it did not strike him, instead skewering through barely a foot to his left. Ulquiorra pulled, attempting to dislodge it, but embedded in the heart of the Susanoo, the blackened Totsuka Blade was stuck.

The Susanoo brought its free hand down, and with a karate chop cleaved through Ulquiorra’s forearms, severing him from the sword in his grip. With immense strength, it swung its arm backward, and smacked him away, sending him skidding back along the ashen ground.

Ulquiorra lost no momentum, however. His arms regrew in moments, flesh rippling from their stumps and knitting together. Without a moment to waste, he brought his new hands together, and then spread them, a spear of green energy manifesting between them. Seizing it, he charged back in, his regeneration and the lance’s formation taking less than a second in total.

“Lanza del-”

Crunch!!!

The Susanoo raised its hand and met the Lanza with its bare palm, and closed its fingers around it, crushing the attack into nothing. Ulquiorra’s eyes widened. 

The Yata Mirror dematerializing, the Susanoo seized the hilt of the Totsuka Blade, still embedded in its chest, with its now freed arm. As the blade was reclaimed by its true owner, the black Reiatsu that had consumed it blasted away, orange energy resurfacing. Ripping the blade out of its own chest, the Susanoo swung it around in a wide arc and slashed across Ulquiorra’s Hollow hole, drawing a spurt of blood and knocking him away once more. Drawing the blade back, the Susanoo angled it like a spear, and drove it forth.

Its aim was true. Unable to get out of the way in time, Ulquiorra was skewered through the stomach, and the Totsuka Blade pierced into the ground behind him. He let out no verbal reaction, but his widened eyes spoke for themselves. Slowly, his head slumped down, hair falling down in front of his eyes.

Itachi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, the only outward sign that he had been bothered by the intensity of the fight. It had truthfully been more difficult than he had been expecting, but it was over now. Ulquiorra’s energy was being absorbed up the blade, and soon enough his body would follow, and he would be sealed within the Susanoo’s gourd, trapped in a drunken stupor for eternity. No opponent pierced by the Totsuka Blade could-

Ulquiorra’s head shot up. Itachi’s eyes widened in alarm. The Reiatsu that had been steadily flowing from Ulquiorra’s body froze, and then retracted along the blade, clinging to the body it came from. Ulquiorra’s body, his soul, which should have been crumbling and melting into the sword, remained stubbornly unaltered by the blade’s effects.

“?!”

Instinctively, Itachi tried to pull the blade back, alarm flashing through his mind at the unprecedented resistance, but in a flash, Ulquiorra’s hand shot out and closed around the blade, pulling it further into his stomach. For a moment, Itachi was confused by the action, but a moment later he understood. Orange energy bubbled up through the blade, leaking out of Ulquiorra – the Nine-Tails chakra.

The chakra that had kept Ulquiorra weakened throughout the entire fight.

‘No!’

Through sheer force of will, the Espada was holding himself together, stubbornly anchoring his own energy to his body and allowing only the poisonous chakra to leak forth, turning the Totsuka Blade from an instrument of certain defeat to a siphon that would restore him.

Itachi pulled at the blade furiously, trying to wrench it from Ulquiorra’s grip before it could absorb all of the Nine-Tails’ chakra, but his foe’s grip held firm. Within moments the last traces of the toxic energy had drained from his body, twisting along the length of the sword and into the gourd at the Susanoo’s hip.

Ulquiorra’s skin darkened. His horns lengthened.

His strength had returned.

He raised a hand. Black energy charged into his fingers. Itachi made no effort to hide his alarm.

“Cero Oscuras.”

Itachi ripped the Totsuka Blade from Ulquiorra’s stomach as his grip finally released, and in the next instant materialized the Yata Mirror once more, the damage to its surface now repaired. Just in time, as the Cero Oscuras ripped into the shield and pushed the Susanoo back along the ground with immense force. The energy that ripped around the shield caused strips of spiritual clothing and flesh to melt off the Susanoo’s bones, the ground erupting with lava and mountains in the far distance melting away. Under the onslaught, the Yata Mirror shook violently – it may have been virtually indestructible, but the strength of the Susanoo holding it was rapidly flagging.

Itachi raised his arms in front of his face as he skidded backward. Ulquiorra’s assault ceased for a moment, but not for the better – a black Lanza materialized in his hand, far more powerful than any attack that had preceded it. 

Ulquiorra hurled the Lanza. It struck the Yata Mirror. And the world shattered like glass.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

The wind whistled in Ulquiorra’s ears. His lips were pressed into a thin, dissatisfied frown. His hands remained in his pockets, the roof of Las Noches beneath his feet. Across from him, Itachi stood, gazing impassively at him, no emotion visible on his face. When Ulquiorra spoke, his tone was flat.

“How many times is that, now?”

Itachi’s face remained partially obscured by his collar.

“14,605.”

“And how much time has passed in reality?”

“Minutes, perhaps.”

Ulquiorra was silent. Fragments of illusory fights flashed in his mind’s eye, all of them ending in his victory, but the memories faded as soon as they came. Within Itachi’s Tsukuyomi, the two of them had doubtlessly been waging battle for months, perhaps years, though each time a fight began, for Ulquiorra at least, it felt like the first.

“What is the point of this? You have control over this world you’ve created, no? You could torture me a thousand ways. Why try to fight and win fairly?”

Throughout countless forgotten Tsukuyomi cycles, the question had echoed in slightly different forms.

‘Why do you waste your time?’

‘Why do you waste my time?’

‘Do you even want to win?’

‘Why?’

‘Why…?’

‘Why……?’

‘What do you fight for, Itachi Uchiha?’

As Ulquiorra repeated the question for the hundredth time, Itachi was silent for a moment. In all their previous exchanges, he had not given his adversary an answer. But… it wasn’t as though Ulquiorra would remember it, was it?

“I suppose it’s… to test the limits of my ability.”

“Oh?”

Itachi fell silent again, bowing his head, deep in thought.

“I possess the power to create this false reality, where I control everything. To create all the time in the world for myself… and yet in reality, I have no control, no time at all. For all the power I possess, I could do nothing to change the hearts of my clan, and…”

He bowed his head. Law’s words from that morning, which to him felt like so very long ago, echoed in his head.

“I did not try hard enough. I made no attempt to change how things are, I only did what I thought was best of the choices given to me.”

Ulquiorra stood in silence, listening to his speech without visible reaction.

“I never questioned myself about my decisions… no, I convinced myself not to, because I knew if I did, it would drive me mad. But now I have returned to this worthless life of mine, and offered a wish for anything I desire.”

He paused.

“And I do not deserve it. I lived and died accepting that the world is only one way. But that world has gone on without me. My brother has become everything I wanted him to be and more, and the cruel reality that I accepted so easily has changed in ways I could never have imagined. I do not deserve a wish, and I never have. I am only a stepping stone for better men. But…”

…

“For once, I wished to rely on my own strength, instead of taking a shortcut with these illusions of mine. That is all.”

“…You’re a fool.”

“…Hm?”

Ulquiorra scoffed, looking at him with thinly-veiled disgust.

“You humans are all so sentimental and arrogant. You don’t deserve a wish? Who cares about something as stupid as that?”

Itachi stared at him, blankly. Ulquiorra continued.

“So you threw your life away because you thought you didn’t deserve to live, and then your brother surpassed you and did what you couldn’t. And instead of realizing that you were an idiot who hated himself too much, you’ve decided instead to deny yourself a wish? Absurd. Worthless sentimentalism.”

“I…”

“Humans have a way of sacrificing for those they care for, and it’s always baffled me. I’m a Hollow. I was born into nothingness, I feel nothingness. Love, acceptance, understanding – they are as foreign to me as I am to you.”

He fixed Itachi with his gaze.

“However, I have come to understand that they are important. Perhaps not to me, but to others. I do not understand why you sacrificed so much for your brother, but I understand that it must have made a difference for him. So why, now that you have made that difference, are you still refusing to fight for yourself?”

“…For… myself?”

“You say you accepted that the world was cruel. That you needed to die and that there was no other option, and that you were wrong for doing that. You are now being offered an opportunity to live, to reunite with your brother and to choose differently this time. Why do you not take it?”

Itachi was silent. The seconds stretched out. Finally, he responded.

“I don’t know.”

“…Disappointing.”

The two fell into silence. Finally, Ulquiorra spoke again.

“You can win this fight whenever you want. We both know that. As soon as you decide to stop playing fair. And I do not wish to die at the hands of a man who has no desire to live himself.”

He was silent for a moment, then continued.

“I was much like you. I had nothing to live for. And now I do.”

“…”

“If you are going to rip away my second chance, I want your assurance that you will fight for your own.”

Itachi gazed at him, weighing his words. Finally, he responded.

“…Okay.”

Ulquiorra closed his eyes, and bowed his head, in morose acceptance.

“Very well. I suppose it has been a tolerable experience getting to know you, Itachi Uchiha.”

He opened his eyes, and his expression was stony.

“Do not waste your opportunity.”

Itachi was silent, and then replied.

“It may be insufficient thanks, compared to a wish, but…”

His eyes flashed, and instantaneously, the vicinity was engulfed in white. Ulquiorra alone remained, and his eyes widened sharply. Everything faded to white… to nothing.

…Nothing…

…Noth…

…No…

…

“Ulquiorra!”

He jumped as a girl’s voice called to him, and his surroundings faded in. He was standing on a street corner. A short distance away, waving to him, was a girl with orange hair. Three others stood behind her – a tall, dark-skinned man with bushy brown hair that covered his eyes, a thinner man with dark hair and glasses, and a man with bright orange hair, who had a school bag slung over his shoulder.

Ulquiorra stared at them, in confusion. He glanced down at his arms, and found that he was wearing human clothes… no, civilian clothes. What on earth was he thinking? He was human, after all. What had he been doing just a moment prior? He couldn’t quite remember. Shaking his head to clear his muddled thoughts, he jogged up the street to join his friends.

Years passed. Friends came and went. Good things happened, and bad, and life went on all the same. As he got older, though, no matter what happened, Ulquiorra’s happiness never waned. Even on his deathbed, his family stood around him, and he felt…

Full.

—

Flames crackled in the sunset. Atop the canopy of Las Noches, the battle had come to an end just minutes after it had begun, without a single blast being loosed that could alert any outsiders to what had transpired. As only silence filled the air in lieu of an announcement, Ulquiorra Cifer’s body crumbled away, burned to ashes by black flames. And as Itachi leapt from the building, he felt the beginnings of something new forming in his heart.

‘If you are going to rip away my second chance, I want your assurance that you will fight for your own.’

No matter what happened…

No matter who he had to go through in this war…

Even if he still didn’t deserve it, even if he didn’t yet know how he wanted to spend his new chance at life…

He was going to win.

—

[Interlude 3: Szayelaporro’s Lab]

Oblivious and indifferent to the battle concluding many stories above where he worked, Szayel flitted between the many workstations in his lab with the fervor of a man gone mad.

Of course, Szayelaporro Granz had never been sane.

Kakuzu’s corpse lay splayed across the central table, but appeared to have been violently ripped open, the many threads holding his body together pulled out in every direction like long strands of pitch-black pasta. Pierced into the crown of his head, his neck, and various points down the center of the body, long cables had been intermittently punctured through his skin, and faint traces of residual chakra continued to conduct through them, fleeing the corpse and depositing into surrounding containment units.

Szayel hummed merrily as he pulled a lever, and electricity blasted violently through the corpse, its muscles spasming despite the fact that they had been long since gripped by rigor mortis. As the body jerked violently, the chakra flowing out of it appeared to increase briefly in intensity. Szayel pulled the lever down, and then back up again, sending a fresh wave of lightning through the body, the flashing lights casting his face in eerie shadow.

Finally pulling the lever back down and allowing the powerful current to abate, temporarily satisfied with the level of chakra he had now extracted, Szayel whisked himself over to a second workstation, where his drones whirred and hissed as the fox’s bubbling orange chakra passed through numerous glass tubes, mixing with chemicals of various colors and consistency.

Szayel giggled and spun in place, pleased with what he saw, before prancing across the room once again and flicking on a surveillance screen. Countless images appeared across his monitors, of territories throughout the arena.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Szayel didn’t turn to acknowledge the man leaning against his door frame, hands in his pockets. His eyes were too busy scanning the footage his surveillance drones were busily collecting.

“In a manner of speaking. Everything is proceeding much more smoothly than I had anticipated. How was your patrol?”

“Tch.”

Szayel’s gaze finally found what he was looking for, and his smile widened maliciously.

“Well, now. It appears our littlest friend’s rendezvous has gone well.”

“Oh?”

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed as he moved to join Szayel in observing the monitors. Szayel continued, licking his lips.

“The fun is soon to begin.”

—

[Battle 3: Nel VS Doflamingo –
Dressrosa – 8:34 AM]

Nel hadn’t been in Dressrosa for very long. Upon emerging from her Descorrer, she had been surprised to find the streets of the island country bustling with people – a far cry from the deserted islands that she had been led to believe comprised the Warlords’ territory. Uncertain of where the countless citizens roaming the streets had come from, she had quickly purloined a grey cloak from a nearby clothing store, and had spent the last ten minutes or so beginning to slowly make her way through the hustle and bustle toward the King’s Plateau in the nation’s center.

Nel moved quietly through the crowds of people milling around, taking care not to attract attention or make a scene by pushing people out of the way. The hustle and bustle was… uncanny. These people categorically should not have been here, so how…?

She was startled out of her thoughts as something collided with her midsection – a young child, certainly no more than ten from his appearance, short enough that she hadn’t noticed, had bumped into her. Kneeling down, Nel moved to help him up, kind words forming on her lips, and then the boy raised his head and she recoiled sharply.

His eyes were glassy. Empty. When he spoke, there was no emotion in his voice. He sounded… hollow.

“You shouldn’t be here, miss.”

All around, the civilians froze, halting in place. Their heads all turned toward Nel and the boy, the same blank eyes gazing out from all of them. As Nel’s hand flew to her sword and she stood frozen, eyes flicking back and forth between the surrounding throngs of people, they all chorused together.

“You shouldn’t be here, miss.”

Slowly, the boy pulled himself to his feet. He raised a stubby finger and pointed it at Nel. When he spoke again, his voice was flat.

“This country belongs to the God-King. You are not welcome here.”

“This country belongs to the God-King. You are not welcome here.” the citizens echoed.

Before Nel could respond, a mass of black spikes descended from above, spearing into the ground all around with blinding speed, forming an enormous dark cage around the square. Floating above, silhouetted in front of the sun and perched atop a mass of dark sand, from which the cage had sprung, a man with red hair stood. Though Nel had never seen him before, she recognized him from Itachi’s descriptions – Sasori of the Red Sand.

“State your business, intruder,” Sasori spoke robotically, his mouth flapping unnaturally. “Are you here to prostrate yourself before the God-King?”

The surrounding crowds of people echoed his words, but although he spoke just like the boy had moments before, Sasori’s eyes were different from the crowd’s. While theirs were lifeless, his were full of rage and bloodlust. For the first time, Nel was certain that she was facing a living being.

One who very much wanted to kill her.

Gaze calmly flicking between the surrounding crowds and then back up at Sasori, Nel weighed her options. Finally, she spoke, speaking in the cold tone reserved for when she was acting not as Nelliel, but as the Tres Espada.

“I am here to claim the king’s head.”

All around her, the civilians gasped. Some of them wailed in despair and others jeered furiously. Above her Sasori didn’t even twitch.

“No mere human will ever be able to spill God’s blood. Turn back, sinner, or be cleansed by the hand of the king.”

Nel’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m no human.”

Fast as a blur, she drew Gamuza from its sheath and slid the flat of the blade across her palm in front of her, the spiritual light of a Cero rippling from her hand across the sword’s length. Charged with the power of a Cero, she swung the sword, and a torrent of energy ripped outward in a wide arc, powerful light diffusing in every direction and burning through the surrounding crowd. As they melted away, their skin seemed to unknit, fraying at the edges of where they had been struck – every last person there was made of string.

Atop his mass of iron sand, Sasori raised his arms, blue threads of energy extending from each of his fingers and connecting with the masses below. Citizens bumbled inward, toppling over each other trying to dogpile Nel, but she was too fast for them. Blitzing forward so fast she disappeared from sight, the Espada sprung off the string-people’s heads like stepping stones, dashing up toward Sasori in midair.

Whoom!

Swinging her leg around for a powerful kick, Nel’s foot struck only sand as iron dust billowed up beside Sasori, forming a powerful barrier to weather her assault. Spinning in place, Gamuza struck next from the opposite side, but fast as a blink the sand moved to block once again. From Sasori’s extended palms, metal nozzles popped out, and an enormous blast of flame engulfed Nel as one of the scrolls on Sasori’s back glowed brightly.

Boooooooom!!

Nel was hurled away, barely managing to cross her arms in front of herself in time and harden her skin with Hierro, to protect from the flames. Sasori leapt after her, the iron sand he had stood on swirling into enormous black wings that attached to his back. As Nel hit the ground, she quickly recovered and dashed off at blinding speed, the flying Sasori in hot pursuit.

With a powerful flap of the iron sand wings, bullets of iron sand rained down on Nel. Twisting around so that she faced her pursuer as she ran, Nel deflected the onslaught with rapid slashes from Gamuza. As the bullets struck the sword, however, they seemed to cling to it like glue, before multiplying and wrapping around it, twisting it out of her hand and sending it spinning away.

Swooping down, Sasori seized Nel by the throat and then blasted upward with a mighty wing flap. From the nozzle pressing against her throat, fire blasted out and engulfed Nel as the two ascended upward. She gritted her teeth, her Hierro doing nothing to quell the searing heat that engulfed her body, even as it managed to bear the brunt of the actual damage.

As they ascended hundreds of meters over the city, however, Sasori’s face contorted with… pain? Though barely audible over the wind and fire roaring in Nel’s ears, two words managed to creak from his mouth.

“Kill… me…”

Nel stiffened, surprise registering on her face. A moment later, however, Sasori’s expression relaxed, before his mouth curled up into an unnatural grin, teeth bared. Had she just imagined…?

Again, he spoke, but this time, another voice seemed to overlay with his own.

“What a disappointment that it won’t be Law I’m killing first… but oh well. His time will come soon enough!”

The fire scroll on Sasori’s back glowed blindingly white, chakra rippling violently from it. The nozzle in his palm got hotter and began to glow as well.

Gritting her teeth, Nel charged powerful, red energy into her hand and brought it down on Sasori’s wrist – blasting through his wooden “flesh” with a powerful Bala, and forcibly releasing his grip on her throat. However, the energy that he had been charging up did not dissipate. It exploded from Sasori’s splintered wrist, and engulfed her face at point-blank range, closer to an immense, concentrated blast of chakra than a plume of fire.

BOOOOM!

The blast of the chakra cannon rippled outward, windows shattering across Dressrosa from the sheer force, as Nel was hurled backward, the enormous beam tearing up the ground beneath it as it pushed her toward the edge of the country.

However, adrenaline dulled the pain. Forcibly righting herself as she was hurled across Dressrosa, Nel braced her legs and slammed into the enormous cliff face at the country’s edge, an enormous crater blasted into the side of the rock by her impact. The beam, enormous though it was, twisted inward, absorbed into Nel’s mouth as she consumed it entirely.

A moment later, with a bellow of effort, Nel regurgitated the beam, and it blasted back across Dressrosa along with a Cero of her own – Nel’s trademark Cero Doble. In an instant, it engulfed Sasori, who barely managed to cross his iron sand wings in front of himself to block it. Blasted back himself, the puppet was hurled through buildings, the sand in his wings splitting apart and leaking off, losing cohesion from the force of the blast, before he slammed to a halt against the rock wall on the opposing side.

Nel panted slightly, wincing at a mild twinge of pain at the corners of her mouth, but felt a powerful sense of calm. All things considered, Sasori didn’t seem to be terribly strong. The iron sand was perhaps a bit annoying, but even after charging up he hadn’t been able to pierce her Hierro, and her Bala had broken through his body without much resistance. If he was even in any shape to continue the fight, she felt confident that she could defeat the puppet without needing her Resurrección.

Still, his words as they had risen into the sky echoed in her mind.

‘Kill…me…’

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she felt a twinge of sympathy for Sasori, sociopathic though he may be. What kind of torment had Doflamingo subjected him to…?

As if on cue, a malevolent laugh echoed through the air, and tore her gaze off of the far-distant Sasori, who seemed to be staggering unnaturally to his feet, thin strings dragging him up.

“It seems we have ourselves a worthy challenger!”

From the King’s Plateau at the center of the island, an enormous column of string erupted upward, climbing high into the sky, before splitting off from the center and descending in wide arcs to the very edges of the island, forming an enormous dome over Dressrosa. Nel grimaced. Law had warned her about this.

“People of Dressrosa!” Doflamingo’s voice boomed out. Across the country, TV screens blinked on, Doflamingo’s grinning face appearing across each and every one of them. “My loyal citizens, my glorious followers! You have served me so wonderfully since we reunited, but it seems we have an intruder, who would like to see me dead.”

From the streets below, the empty eyes of the populus, each and every one of Doflamingo’s artificial puppets, turned toward Nel’s position, their blank expressions suddenly shifting to malice. Raising her hand, she mentally called to Gamuza, and in an instant it soared up from the alleyways below and back into her grip.

“Bring me her head…”

Doflamingo’s smile widened as he held the receiver up to his mouth, growing almost demonic in appearance.

“…and you will be handsomely rewarded.”

A cry rose up from the streets beneath. In unison, the false citizens across Dressrosa turned their gaze toward Nel, singular, mindless objective filling their emotionless shells.

Wasting no time, Nel leapt off the wall, the stone behind her rupturing from the force of her Sonído, the crater beneath her widening further. It was a lucky thing too, for as she leapt away, an enormous fist slammed down into the wall where she had been perched, rupturing the cliffside for miles.

With a massive roar, the enormous creature who had struck out at her – though Nel did not know him, a perfect replica of Doflamingo’s underling, Pica – swung his other massive arm around. Spinning in midair, Nel released a whirlwind of slashes that carved his giant “stone” arm into slabs, the strings comprising his limbs flaying momentarily, before reconnecting and pulling his arm back together.

In front of the fleeing Nel, who turned away from Pica to concentrate on putting distance between them, countless Dressrosans took to the sky, hoisted up by invisible threads. Dashing off of Reishi footholds in the air, Nel blazed past them, her Reiatsu repelling their attempted strikes as she zipped by, too quick to tag.

Nel’s eyes flashed, and she leapt upward, just in time for a blast of some kind of substance to rip through the air where she had been a moment prior. It swept around in a wide arc, and hundreds of buildings in its path were carved in half by what Nel now identified as a jet of pressurized water. Her gaze snapping up, she fixed her gaze back on Sasori, perched on the far wall, whose remaining arm was raised, the nozzle on his palm steaming slightly.

She launched forward toward him, but immediately found herself swarmed by countless airborne citizens, and slowed considerably.

‘They must be autonomous,’ she thought, ‘or there would be no reason for Doflamingo to bother with the theatrics of putting up a bounty. That seems impossible, unless…’

Realization flashed in her mind, and she gritted her teeth, dodging dozens more citizens as she fought her way forward toward Sasori, who watched her from the country’s opposite end. 

‘Gecko Moria’s power. That’s the only explanation. Doflamingo is amassing an army of string soldiers for Blackbeard to store his shadows in. If I fail to end Doflamingo here…’

A one-legged knight leapt in and swung his sword down, with greater speed and strength than those before him. Nel halted sharply, raising Gamuza and parrying his attack, sparks grinding between their blades. In an instant, citizens dogpiled her from every side – a pink-haired woman in a gladiator costume, a dark-haired woman with a white dress covered in polka dots, an enormous buff man with a shoulder guard and disproportionately small legs, and countless more on top of that.

‘…We will all be overrun…!”

With a battle cry, Reiatsu exploded outward from Nel, hurling the mass of people off of her. Leaping off the air, she just barely cleared another punch from Pica, soaring upward and landing in the center of the giant’s helmet-covered forehead. With another burst of spiritual pressure, Nel leaped off of him, the sonic boom blasting Pica off his feet and sending him sprawling, flattening countless buildings.

Shockwaves rippling behind her, Nel hurtled through the air, up toward the King’s Plateau. A moment later, however, an enormous spider web materialized in front of her, and she slammed into it with immense force, Gamuza clashing violently against the strings, the Reiatsu she used to propel herself continuing to push forward against the barrier.

Hundreds of meters above her, atop the plateau, Doflamingo stood, snickering and grinning madly, fingers flexing as he manipulated his strings. As Nel pushed against the spider web, strings seized her limbs from behind and pulled back against her – not Doflamingo’s strings, but blue threads made of spiritual energy. On the rooftops below, Sasori stood, arms outstretched, pulling Nel back just as strongly as Doflamingo pushed. When the two spoke, they did so in unison.

“Fall to earth, weakling!”

With a heave, Sasori tugged on his strings, and hurled himself into the air toward Nel just as she began to fall back down. In his hand, a sword of iron sand materialized, and as Nel turned to meet him in midair, it struck Gamuza and exploded into a plume of dust. Nel coughed violently, the dust blinding her.

From Sasori’s stomach, a wire unspooled and wrapped around Nel’s midsection. Spinning in midair, the coil whipped her around and hurled her away. With a flex of his fingers, Sasori pulled a hundred puppets up from the ground below, mixed in with the crowd – his Performance of a Hundred Puppets.

Rising up toward the careening Nel, they slammed into her, battering her back and forth between them, their blades slamming against her skin, though not managing to draw blood through her Hierro. Still, buffeted from every angle, Nel couldn’t help but let out a pained cry, bruises visible across her face as she was smacked back and forth midair. 

Sasori’s puppets, acting in unison, surrounded her from every side and swung their weapons down, knocking Nel downward once more, and finally slamming her into the pavement. Slowly, she dragged herself up to her feet, staggering slightly, but a moment later the Dressrossans in her vicinity swarmed her.

A swordsman with red streaks on his face swung a curved blade at her, which grazed her side as she barely dodged. An old man with veins bulging from his forehead struck out with a powerful punch that slammed her to the side. From the other direction, a towering figure clad in what appeared to be liquid clothes hurled large blue globs that battered her. Each time, Nel moved to counter or dodge, but each time a new attack seemed to come from a different direction, slamming her back and forth with devastating force, teeth rattling in her skull. Though the fake Donquixote Family that now surrounded her lacked the real abilities unique to the originals, the facsimiles that Doflamingo had created still packed a terrible punch.

‘At this rate… I won’t get a chance to release…!’

Nel attempted to conjure a Descorrer beneath her feet – get herself away for long enough to catch her breath – but nothing materialized. Vaguely, her dazed mind registered that Law had warned her about this, some days prior; Doflamingo’s birdcage somehow had the unique ability to cut off communication with the outside world, and could even prevent teleportation abilities like Law’s own from being used to escape its radius.

She was trapped, and if she didn’t find a way out…!

Bang!

Her thoughts were blasted from her mind by a powerful impact slamming into her temple, and she staggered, crumpling to the ground. A trickle of blood rolled down the side of her face from the point where she had been struck.

“Hehehehehe… defying the Donquixote Family? Not smart.”

As Nel struggled to pull herself up, the family’s onslaught ceased momentarily, a man moved into her vision, arm outstretched, a flintlock pistol clutched in his grasp – which had undoubtedly fired the bullet that had struck her. Like the other false citizens, his eyes were blank, empty, and his voice lacked emotion, but with a lurch of her stomach Nel realized she recognized him instantly, for Law had described him to her very clearly. Blonde hair, a black feathered coat not unlike Doflamingo’s pink one, and a heart-checkered pink button-up – this could only be Doflamingo’s late brother, Donquixote Rosinante.

The brother whom Law had admired… the brother that Doflamingo had murdered.

Nel barely had time to feel glad that she had managed to convince Law not to chase after Doflamingo, before another bullet blasted into her shoulder, not piercing through her Hierro altogether, but causing a sharp flare of pain nonetheless. More followed, and she cried out as the fake Rosinante laughed robotically, punctuating each word that he spoke with a pull of the trigger and a blast of the gun.

“You’ll never reach my brother,” Rosinante spoke, his voice overlaid with Doflamingo’s, much as Sasori’s had been previously. “You want to make God bleed? You’ll sooner die, take it from me.”

The Donquixote Family let out jeering laughs as they looked on with glee. Though Nel felt no personal connection to Rosinante, rage boiled in her stomach as she raised her arms to defend against the hail of bullets that he unloaded into her. To create this bastardized image of the brother he murdered… Doflamingo truly was repulsive.

Letting her anger fuel her, brimming with righteous fury at her ally’s loved one being warped in this way, she shoved herself to her feet in between shots and seized the flintlock, crushing its barrel in her hand, and the gun exploded as Rosinante pulled the trigger next. He cried out, as his hand split into strings, but had no time to reform as Nel bellowed out, a massive Cero ripping from her mouth and engulfing him, string vaporized under the onslaught of energy. As the other Donquixote Family members converged on her, Nel leapt up, springing off the walls of the surrounding buildings and clearing the rooftops within moments before they could catch her.

Breathing heavily, she wiped the blood trickling down her forehead, wincing as her hand pressed briefly against the spots that had been bruised by Rosinante’s bullets. She needed to-

Wham!

From the side, Sasori collided with her, grabbing her by her horns and slamming her down into the rooftops, dragging her across them as he soared across the city. Attached to his limbs, carrying him through the air, thin threads were wrapped, binding him to Doflamingo’s will. His eyes bulged and his teeth were clenched in effort as he pulled up. Swinging Gamuza wildly, Nel slashed a chunk out of his stomach, but with his artificial body, he didn’t even flinch.

“Kill me!!” Sasori snarled once again, physically straining against Doflamingo’s strings, but with a heave he hurled her away, sending her skidding across another rooftop. It seemed that speaking was the most resistance he could mount, against the one holding his strings.

Nel managed to right herself, landing on her feet, Gamuza clenched in her hand. She raised it horizontally in front of herself, her other hand extending toward the blade.

“Praise-”

“Not so fast!”

With a slash, blood exploded from her forearms as something sharp carved deeply into them, and Nel cried out in agony, her Hierro meaningfully pierced for the first time, though not deeply enough to sever her arms.

From above, Doflamingo descended, pulling Sasori in tow as he entered the fight for the first time, grinning wildly. He swung his arm, and strings extending from each of his fingers carved into Nel. With a heave, he hurled Sasori forward and the puppet slammed bodily into her, wooden tubes extending from the sides of his remaining arm and battering her with dozens of punches.

Doflamingo cackled as he touched down, and Nel managed to swing her blade rapidly in spite of her injured arms, deflecting countless strikes from Sasori’s puppet arms. Doflamingo splayed his own arms, tongue lolling from his mouth gleefully.

“The only ‘praise’ in this country will be for me!”

Sasori lunged, and his fingers closed around Nel’s throat. The final scroll on his back flashed. Doflamingo grinned as Nel struggled against the puppet’s grasp, her strength flagging.

“You know, he won’t tell me what this one does. Let’s find out, shall we? It’ll be your grand finale.”

Disconnecting from Sasori, the scroll rose into the air, glowing brightly with powerful chakra. Nel gritted her teeth, raising her sword and preparing to bring it down on Sasori before he could use whatever power was contained in that final scroll…!

And then, with a blinding flash of light, everything faded away.

…

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…

…

Heat seared her skin.

Her mouth felt very dry. The ground beneath her was coarse. The wind whistled in her ears.

Her eyes cracked open, slightly. Spots of light and darkness danced in front of her vision. Slowly, the world came into focus, sand stretching out in every direction. She pulled herself up to a sitting position.

‘Who… am I?’ she thought. She couldn’t quite remember.

She felt very small.

In the distance, on the horizon, a tiny shape was visible against the stark white sand. Slowly, the girl moved toward it, tottering on short, unsteady legs. 

Minutes passed as she slowly moved across the sand. She still couldn’t remember her name. 

As she got closer, the shape got bigger. A person? It looked like it.

A little boy, sitting alone in the sand, staring down at his hands blankly.

He looked sad.

“Heya!” she found herself saying. “What’sh your name?”

The boy didn’t respond. Didn’t even look in her direction. He just kept looking sad.

“Hey!”

She waved her hand in front of his face. He didn’t react.

He couldn’t see her. She frowned. How could that be?

The boy pressed his small hands against the sand in front of him, and began to mold it into a pile. She watched him work with confusion, and then fascination. As he sculpted the sand in front of him into a castle, she found herself smiling.

It looked like such fun. Why wouldn’t he ask her to play?

Why… did he still look so sad?

“Hey!”

She jumped. The boy did too. From the distance, another boy appeared, running up. He didn’t look much older than the first boy, but something about him seemed… different. She wasn’t sure if she liked him.

“What are you doing? Who said you could build without me?”

The new boy kicked the sand castle. Its towers fell. She cried out in dismay, but the first boy didn’t even react. He just looked morosely at the sand as it collapsed, and as it was blown away in the wind. In mere moments, the sand was gone, absorbed into the desert as though it had never been there to begin with.

“You should know not to build those things,” the second boy scoffed, his eyes obscured by his sunglasses and unreadable. “The wind will always blow them away.”

She felt tears spring to her eyes.

Why had the first boy not tried to save what he had built?

“There was nothing I could have done.”

She looked up at him as he spoke for the first time, and was surprised to find that he was staring directly at her. His brown eyes were full of sadness.

“Every castle falls down eventually.”

He paused, and his stare became more intense.

“And… I’ve tried rebuilding before.”

His eyes turned blood red, like his hair. Blood began to leak from them, scarlet tears scoring his face.

They dripped down, and stained the sand red. The stain spread outward, soaking the desert crimson.

She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She could only turn and run, leaving the two boys behind.

The last glimpse she caught of them was the second boy, patting the first’s head. He was smiling.

She ran, and ran, and ran as fast as her small legs could take her. Silent screams ripped from her lungs, the blood pooling outward behind her, chasing her down. She wasn’t fast enough to escape it. She felt the warm liquid spread up her legs, staining her body, drenching her in sin as she fled.

And then it was over. The desert was white again. She crumpled to her knees. The blood that soaked her body still clung to her skin. Tears streaked from her eyes as she sobbed, trembling violently.

She felt very small.

“Are you lost, little one?”

She whimpered and looked up. A man stood over her, a kind smile on his face.

His presence was… soothing. Calming. He had an air of power.

She let out a sob. She tried to form the words, but she couldn’t.

He seemed to understand. Kneeling down, he held his hand out.

“You look like you’ve been through a lot. But I can see a great strength in you.”

A great strength? Her? What was he talking about?

“Would you like to come with me? I can get you cleaned up.”

More tears welled up in her eyes. Gratitude filled her. She sobbed and nodded silently.

“Worry not. You’ll be safe with me.”

He closed his eyes, his kind smile gentle.

“I’ll make sure you never have to lament again.”

‘…………’

‘That’s right. This is… an old memory. Of when I first met him…’

He had changed everything. Offered her everything.

A name.

A home.

A purpose.

Power.

He had made good on his promise. She could now stand tall.

But she still felt very small.

—

The boy was brash, impulsive.

He was younger than her, much younger, and had none of her restraint.

He didn’t feel the same empathy for the pain of others that she did.

He was dangerous. She could tell. But she wouldn’t hurt him.

Not when he was her responsibility. Not when he was so much weaker than her.

She would help him see the error of his thinking. She had to help him.

She knew what it was like to feel small.

—

Darkness. Pain. Blood.

Weakness.

Who was she? She couldn’t remember.

Those two… who were they? She couldn’t remember.

Why did she feel such a powerful sense of loss? She couldn’t remember.

She only knew that she felt small.

—

Her eyes opened. She remembered.

Remembered the promises that a liar had made to her.

Remembered the promises that she had made in return.

The boy was older now. She hadn’t managed to get through to him. He had gotten the better of her.

It was over now. He was dead, like he had always wanted. Killed by someone other than her.

What a failure she was.

Though she would never let anyone see her tears, she did the one thing she had hoped never to do again.

She lamented.

And she felt so very small.

—

This wasn’t real. None of it was real. Her memories, failures, sorrows, and every once of grief and regret she had ever felt swirled in her mind.

It was an illusion, but it was also so very real. Her experiences, her feelings that she was forced to relive, those were as real and raw as if she was feeling them for the first time.

And yet… the boy who cried blood, who had accepted his fate, that everything he tried to build would be ripped away from him…

She had never met such a boy. His tears were new to her.

And yet, with all her heart, she wanted to save him.

She was tired of lamenting losses that she could not prevent.

She was tired of feeling small.

…

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…

…

Power welled up inside of her. More power than she had thought herself capable of. And with an explosion of energy, the Genjutsu shattered. The illusory desert dissipated, and with a mighty swing of Gamuza, Nel carved right through the strings that bound Sasori to Doflamingo.

Sasori gasped, and his grip on Nel’s throat loosened as he staggered, suddenly cut free from his forced servitude. As Doflamingo reeled, disoriented himself from getting caught in the scroll’s Genjutsu, Nel raised her sword in front of her, holding it horizontally.

“Praise, Gamuza!”

Emerald energy exploded outward from her, as she released her Resurrección. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sasori sink into a crouched position, looking shaken. Though she didn’t know his story, she strangely felt that she understood the living puppet.

To go as far as to transform himself into an unfeeling puppet, and to accept death as easily as he had… What had this boy been through? How much had the world taken from him?

As the thought crossed her mind, her empathy hardened into intense resolve. For one of the only times in her life, she didn’t feel small. 

Doflamingo raised an arm to cover his face, dust swirling up from the ground and buffeting him violently, his feather coat whipping furiously under the intense gusts. Though his eyes were not visible, veins bulging in his forehead betrayed his feelings.

Who the hell did that little insect think she was? To cut Sasori free of him, to resist the will of a Celestial Dragon… no, that wouldn’t do. Such insolence needed to be punished.

With a swoosh, the dust billowing up from Nel’s location was split apart, a long gray shaft sweeping it aside. As it parted, Nel’s new appearance revealed itself, her horns having grown much longer and the lower half of her body replaced by that of a horse. In her hand, she clutched an enormous, double-ended lance – Gamuza, in its released state.

If he was intimidated by his foe’s transformation, Doflamingo didn’t show it, a laugh bubbling up from his chest. 

“You freaks always have the most ridiculous-looking trump cards up your sleeves. If you think-”

WHAM!

Too fast to see, Nel drove the lance forward, red energy materializing around it – a Bala, charged into the sword.

“Lanzador Rojo!”

Doflamingo raised his hand to block with a spider web, but was too slow; the point of Gamuza drove into his shoulder, and after a split second where it crackled violently with energy, an enormous explosion erupted, blasting Doflamingo hundreds of meters into the air.

The Warlord coughed violently as he hurtled into the sky. No blood came from his mouth, but the wind was knocked from his lungs, and the Armament Haki that he had channeled into the impact point at the last second sparked with electricity, muscles twitching from the impact of Nel’s Reiatsu.

At ground level, Nel swept Gamuza to the side as she turned to gaze down at the kneeling Sasori, who still looked thoroughly shaken. She was silent for a moment, and then spoke, her voice formal and without feeling.

“If you want to help against Doflamingo, pull yourself together. If not, you’ll want to take cover. At my current level of power, I will have difficulty preventing myself from destroying this country.”

Sasori’s gaze flickered up to her, his eyes filled with many emotions. Anger, distrust, violation, fear… after spending days as someone else’s marionette, it was no surprise. Finally, he spoke.

“Why the hell are you helping me? What’s in it for you to keep me alive?”

Nel turned her gaze away from him, back up toward the airborne Doflamingo, who had caught himself by connecting his strings to the surrounding bird cage.

“…I don’t know your story, but I saw your pain in that illusion. I can tell that much has been taken from you.” She paused. “…We have that in common.”

Sasori stared blankly at her. Far overhead, a massive creaking sound echoed through the air as Doflamingo’s birdcage began to slowly retract inward, carving through the ground meter by meter from the edge in toward the center. Nel seemed to pay it no mind.

“Whatever it is that you grieve for, whatever it is that broke you… it’s not too late to put yourself back together. You don’t need to give up.”

“…What foolishness. Look at me. I’ve already thrown away my humanity. I gave up on my past a long time ago.” Despite his robotic tone, his voice was bitter. “This world is unkind. Only that which cannot feel and will never rot can withstand its cruelties.”

“Those do not sound like the words of a man who doesn’t feel.”

Thwip!

Doflamingo’s strings snaked down from above with blinding speed, so fast they caught fire, but in one fluid movement, Nel seized Sasori and pulled him up onto her back. She leapt from the rooftop that they stood on just in time for the building to be rent apart, the rubble engulfed in flames, melted through.

Galloping across rooftops, Nel charged, her speed easily beyond even that which she had demonstrated before, when she had been much smaller. Doflamingo soared through the air in pursuit, suspended by his strings as he carved into building after building, but never quite in time to strike the charging centaur.

Regardless, Doflamingo’s laughter filled the air.

Nel wore a hardened look of determination, not even glancing back at her assailant as she ran. On her back, Sasori looked back toward Doflamingo, gritting his teeth as the shockwaves from the slashes buffeted them. In front of them, the enormous wall of strings that composed the rapidly retracting bird cage loomed overhead, approaching as Nel hurtled toward it at breakneck speed. Sasori’s eyes widened in alarm.

“I’m assuming you have a plan?!”

“Use your sand to cut his strings. On my mark.”

Overhead, Doflamingo swung his arm, and strings lashed out and attached themselves to the cage’s edge ahead of them. He pulled himself forward, closing the distance between them quickly, his other hand rearing back to swing.

“He’s getting closer!”

“Not yet.”

“Damn it, if you’re going to do something then hurry, woman-!”

“Not yet!”

Doflamingo swung his strings down, and they carved through the stone rooftops under Nel’s hooves. Unperturbed, though, she leapt off the now-airborne rubble, and into the birdcage, planting her cloven feet against the razor-sharp string and springboarding off of it, her Hierro preventing the threads from biting into her flesh.

“Now!”

Instantly, Sasori swung his arm, and a scepter of iron sand cleaved through the air and swung around the approaching Doflamingo, carving through the strings keeping him aloft from every side. Simultaneously, as Nel sprang off the birdcage’s strings, she leapt dozens of meters into the air and drew back Gamuza, twisting her body around to face Doflamingo, who had begun to plummet through the sky, momentarily cut from his tethers. All of a sudden, Nel had the higher vantage point.

“Lanzador…”

Nel hurled the lance with all her strength, and it blasted through the air, spearing down ahead of her, and slammed directly into the falling Doflamingo’s chest. With a bellow, an enormous Cero exploded from Nel’s mouth and crossed the distance between them in an instant, slamming into Gamuza’s hilt and driving it into Doflamingo with double the force.

“…Azul!”

Bright, azure light crackled from Gamuza as the Haki that Doflamingo protected himself with splintered, and with an enormous explosion of devastating magnitude, he was blasted away with a howl of agony. The lance drove him backwards, plowing through countless rows of buildings before at last he slammed to a halt against the King’s Plateau, which cracked nearly completely in half from the force.

Blood gushed from the false king’s mouth and chest as his head slumped, his splayed arms embedded in the stone. Across the country, Nel raised her hand and Gamuza soared back into her grip.

On her back, Sasori let out a low whistle.

“Good hit, I’ll admit.”

Nel’s head lowered, her eyes narrowed in grim determination. The birdcage overhead had still not dissipated.

“It’s not over yet.”

As if in response to her words, the ground began to tremble. Across Dressrosa, the string citizens that had ceased their action to watch their king fight dissolved into string, and twisted inwards toward Doflamingo’s location, entering his body, stitching his ruptured organs and bones and sinews back together. As they did so, energy – unimaginable energy – filled his body, the power of Blackbeard’s shadows absorbed into him, making him stronger, vastly stronger… and slowly, menacingly, the King of Dressrosa began to laugh once again.

“Feeble. Utterly feeble.”

His hands clenched against the cold stone, and the King’s Plateau itself seemed to lose its color, turning stark white, and then unraveling – transformed into pure string. The string recalled from the citizens of Dressrosa twisted around Doflamingo’s body as he lifted himself skyward.

“I will be the king who stands atop this world. None of you vermin compare to me in the slightest!”

In an instant, the now-transformed King’s Plateau swelled violently and then exploded, giant arms of string forming and extending outward from its incredible mass, each as large as the enormous Pica’s arms had been. In spite of their immensity, within seconds they had crossed the country and descended upon Nel and Sasori.

Nel leapt into the air, just in time as the first enormous fist drove into the ground where she had been standing, flattening a city block. She landed atop the arm’s surface and galloped up it, diving from left to right as pointed spears of Haki-coated string spiked up from the arm’s surface and attempted to skewer her. Those spikes that she wasn’t fast enough to dodge, Sasori cut away with scythes of iron sand.

“Watch out!”

At Sasori’s cry, Nel leapt into the air and landed on a second gigantic arm, which slammed down into the first one. As more came down, she leapt from arm to arm, raising Gamuza as she dashed madly toward where Doflamingo floated above them in the sky, gazing down at them imperiously with intense bloodlust radiating off of him. He cackled.

“Try and try and try some more, little ants! At the end of the day, you’re all just puppets on strings!”

He raised his arm to the sky. Below him, in Nel’s hand, as she galloped and leapt toward Doflamingo at blinding speed, Gamuza began to spin, green energy twisting inward around its shaft. She drew it back. Above Doflamingo’s head, strings wove together into a massive spear of his own, which he drew back as well, with barely contained glee, Haki spreading across its length.

Without fanfare, he hurled the spear downward. With a battle cry, Nel hurled hers upward.

“Lanzador Verde!”

As the two spears met in midair, and Haki crackled against Reiatsu, space seemed to twist inward at their collision point, Gamuza drilling through with incredible, ruthless strength. Within moments, the clash was over, and Doflamingo’s spear unraveled, Gamuza blasting straight through its center and driving into Doflamingo’s stomach.

BOOOOM!

With practically no resistance, the spear blasted through, puncturing through the Warlord’s front and out the back in a split second. Doflamingo’s face froze, confident glee vanishing as his jaw went slack. He unfurled into string.

Nel’s eyes widened.

And then pain exploded through her stomach.

In the split second that she had paused her advance, assuming that the fight had been over, a spear of string covered in Haki had erupted up from beneath her feet and speared up through the torso of her horse half. Agony filled her body, her vision sliding out of focus and a fog overtaking her mind as she struggled not to pass out.

Behind her, she heard a soft cough. Though quiet, the sound stabbed through her delirium like a knife, and she gasped, her eyes widening. Slowly, with all the effort she could manage, she turned her upper body, craning her neck.

Blood trickled from the corners of Sasori’s mouth. His unfocused eyes were slightly widened, surprise visible on his face. The spear of string had ripped right up through Nel’s torso, and into the core embedded in his chest.

Through her own agony, Nel wasn’t sure if she said anything, just that she met his gaze. Slowly, Sasori’s expression crumpled, and his surprise was replaced by tired resignation. A moment later, strings wrapped around his arms and he was ripped from his perch atop Nel’s back, carried up into the sky where the real Doflamingo’s fingers closed around his throat.

Nel struggled to move, straining against the spear of string that pinned her in place, desperately fighting to stay conscious. She had to do something, had to move, had to act or else-

Doflamingo was speaking. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear him. A buzzing had seemed to overtake her hearing.

As Doflamingo pulled Sasori close to his face, he hissed out his words with pure hate and contempt.

“No one escapes me, trash.”

Sasori’s gaze turned back toward Nel. He saw the pain and fear in her eyes.

Why the hell did she care? It wasn’t like she knew him. Wasn’t like he’d done anything to deserve her stupid attempt to save him. But even so…

He sighed.

“Thanks for trying, I guess.”

He turned away from Nel’s stricken face, just in time for his wooden body to unravel into string in Doflamingo’s grip. In an instant, the puppet that was Sasori was no more, and his core plummeted from the sky, bouncing off the surface of the enormous string arm that Nel stood on, before more spears skewered up through the core, and split it apart into pieces.

Nel stood, frozen. Unable to move, unable to do anything but watch the puppet’s life end. She hadn’t known him. He had been a psychopath, even Itachi had said so. But all she could picture in her mind was the little boy, playing alone in the desert and crying tears of blood as everything he had ever tried to build crumbled away in the wind.

Alone in the desert… and so very small.

Floating above, Doflamingo sneered.

“Those who attempt to defy the gods will always meet the same end. The strings of fate bind everyone equally.” He grinned. “Aside from those of us who hold those strings, of course.”

Nel bowed her head. In her gut, rage and guilt and failure mixed together violently.

“You hold nothing, Donquixote Doflamingo.”

She managed to grind the words out as her Reiatsu began to bubble. She hadn’t been able to muster it up before, but she always seemed to get stronger when lamenting that which had been lost. Always too late, and never on time.

“Oh?”

“You are a slave to this world as much as he was. You are simply too arrogant to see it.”

Her Reiatsu reached boiling point. She could feel the strings lodged in her gut beginning to smolder.

“Is that so?” Doflamingo jeered down at her. “I was a Celestial Dragon, stupid girl! I am a god!”

Nel let out a cry and Reiatsu erupted from her, the aura burning through the strings and freeing her, her equestrian lower half dropping down to one knee atop the scorched threads beneath her. With immense effort, she forced herself up and pointed Gamuza’s tip at Doflamingo.

“And yet, a mere emperor holds your reigns!”

That wiped the smirk of Doflamingo’s face. As his expression contorted in outrage, the blood gushing from the hole through Nel’s body twisted up through the air and congealed in front of the lance’s point, energy flowing out of the lance and around the central point where blood and Reiatsu mixed.

Lowering the lance, Nel released the blast. A Gran Rey Cero exploded forth and blasted through the King’s Plateau, eradicating it into atoms in an instant. The blast slammed into the birdcage’s edge in the distance and plowed through, before Nel swept the lance upward, the blast moving with it and carving the cage’s strings away completely.

Doflamingo’s eyes widened, genuine shock crossing his face.

That was impossible. No one could-!

WHAM!

‘Gah-!’

Gamuza slammed into his chest once again. Caught off guard by the abruptness of the attack, Doflamingo felt his ribs fracture, with no time to reinforce them with Haki or behind them together with string. Below him, Nel leapt into the air with all her might and seized the thrown lance, passing Doflamingo’s location and twisting around, to look down at the disoriented Warlord that now floated below her.

Doflamingo careened, the taste of blood in his mouth and his vision blurring as he struggled to right himself. He needed to move, needed to defend…!

In his head, images flashed. His defeat at that pathetic Straw Hat’s hand. His imprisonment in Impel Down, chained and demeaned and forgotten… and yet, not dead. Not gone. Not broken.

Rage filled him.

How dare that woman call him a slave? How dare she see him as a dog that could be leashed? Pushing all thoughts of Blackbeard out of his mind, he allowed his rage and his pain and his humiliation to fill his thoughts.

Conqueror’s Haki exploded out of him. It engulfed Dressrosa, which looked more like a giant, smoking crater than anything at this point. Nel groaned as she was engulfed, but her own Reiatsu weathered the blast, Doflamingo’s Haki crackling around her, electrifying as it pushed against the spiritual membrane surrounding her body.

Veins bulging in his head, Doflamingo screamed out.

“Thousand Arrows… Flapping Thread!!”

Shooting up from beneath him, a vast amount of string twisted into countless, pointed spears, their points coated in Haki, which blasted upward toward Nel in formation, from either side of Doflamingo’s arms, like the wings of a bird converging on her. However, with a swing of Gamuza, she swept them aside, and they coiled back down behind Doflamingo, repelled. Nel drew Gamuza back all the way behind her head, determination flashing in her eyes.

“This is your end, Puppet King!”

Doflamingo’s eyes flashed, murderous fury emanating from him as his Conqueror’s Haki continued to ripple out like a tidal wave. The Thousand Arrows merged together and shot up between his fingers on either side of him, much more powerful this time than before.

“Sixteen Holy Bullets… God Thread!!!”

“Lanzador Verde!!!”

The lance blasted down and the strings blasted up.

They met in the middle.

And then it was over.

…

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…

“Heh. Was starting to wonder when I’d see you here, Doffy.”

“Bweh!” Doflamingo’s teeth ground furiously together. He slammed his drink down on the counter, bitterness roiled in his gut. “Gloat all you want. You’ve made it clear where we stand. You’re no brother of mine.”

Rosinante snorted humorlessly, and signaled to the bartender for another drink.

“You know, I think I have more reason to hate you than you have to hate me.”

“As if it matters to me.”

Rosinante hummed.

“How’s Law doing?”

Doflamingo glanced sharply at him, disgust evident on his face at the question. Rosinante smiled.

“Doing well, then, I’m guessing.”

Doflamingo glared down at his empty drink. The two sat in silence for a few moments.

“That woman was right, you know. About you being tied down as much as everyone else.”

“…”

“I mean, before it was Blackbeard, it was Kaido. For a god, you’re pretty good at taking orders.”

“Says the dog of the marines.”

Rosinante shrugged.

“I found something worth living for, and eventually something worth dying for. If that makes me a dog, I don’t mind.” He laughed, a goofy smile crossing his face, and then he dropped into a more calm expression. “What about you? Was your attempt to claw your way back to Mary Geoise worth dying for?”

Doflamingo’s hand clenched on the handle of his mug. Bitter defeat weighed on his shoulders.

“It was.” He turned to glower at his brother. “Even if I lost in the end, I’m not so pathetic that I ever would have accepted living any other way.”

Rosinante turned away, melancholy visible on his face.

“Then you should have no regrets, eh?”

Doflamingo scowled silently into his mug as the bartender refilled it. With a chuckle, Rosinante pulled himself up and dropped some money on the counter.

“Well, it’s something for you to think about, at least. Maybe I’ll see you around, Doffy.”

Doflamingo didn’t answer as he departed.

…

…

“…Maybe.”

—

Lava bubbled and sizzled. The island of Dressrosa had essentially been split completely in half, the Lanzador Verde having drilled Doflamingo directly down into it, rupturing the continental crust beneath and erupting magma from the chambers far below, which spilled over the ruined remnants of the once-vibrant and bustling country.

Where she hovered above, Nel breathed in and out heavily, raggedly. Her form dissipated, and she plummeted, her eyes sliding closed as she fell out of consciousness. Blood gushed freely from the gaping wound in her stomach. But before she could fall into the seething lava below, a Descorrer opened in space and she fell into it. As it closed, had anyone been around to see into it, a splash of white and blue would have been visible.

As space zipped back up, far below, a pair of shattered pink sunglasses sank into the bubbling lava – the final remnants of a broken god cast down to hell. As the plastic melted away, the battle that had destroyed Dressrosa drew to a close.

—

[Interlude 4: Underground Hideout]

Squelch.

A bloodied chunk of flesh was plopped down on the counter – one of the many chunks of Sasori’s destroyed core. The man who had dropped it hummed softly to himself as he grabbed a nearby towel and wiped the blood from his pale hands. The candles around him flickered, casting him in a pale light.

“Cunning as ever, Sannin.”

Orochimaru’s smile widened, eerie in the candlelight as his head turned toward the entrance to his lair. The man silhouetted in the doorway stared back at him, his mood unreadable behind his orange mask.

“I’ve long abandoned my title as Sannin, my dear Tobi,” Orochimaru replied silkily, setting the towel down. “Names left long behind… that is something you should be able to understand well.”

Tilting his head downward, Tobi’s Sharingan peered through his eye hole, narrowed dangerously. Orochimaru continued, unintimidated.

“I’ll admit, I’m surprised that you finally managed to track me here. I suppose I wasn’t careful enough, in my rush to retrieve Sasori here before Dressrosa sank beneath the waves.” He gestured at the core chunk. “May I help you with something?”

“You’ve eluded my attempts to establish a rapport with you,” Tobi replied, his tone deep and menacing. “You are different – stronger – than I have ever known you to be, and you appear to know more than any of us. Why is that? If you’ve come from a further point in time than the rest of us, why? And how much do you know?”

Orochimaru remained impassive as he smiled mildly, his face as much a mask as Tobi’s.

“I know enough.”

Tobi glowered at him.

“Do not make this difficult. We both know you are no match for the Sharingan. I can peer into your mind if I want to.”

Orochimaru met his eye, fearlessly. When he spoke, venom seeped into his tone.

“Ohoho… just try it, Obito Uchiha.”

—

[Battle 4: Law VS Luppi –
Punk Hazard – 8:34 AM]

Not for the first time, Law rubbed his eyes furiously, fighting off the fatigue that threatened to settle in his bones. It had been days since he had last slept, and at the back of his mind he understood that it was unwise to run himself too ragged. Still, there was a lot at stake in this war. He could rest when he was dead or victorious. He closed his eyes.

“Room.”

His Room materialized across the island he stood on, the frigid air crackling within the range of Law’s field. In an instant, he scanned for individuals within his range.

Nothing.

With an aggravated, impatient sigh, Law dropped down onto a boulder, leaning back against the side of the rock and crossing his arms. He’d have to wait for his quarry to show up. Typical.

Nel’s Descorrer had warped him all the way to Punk Hazard, his old haunt from when he had been working as an agent of the World Government. Each of the islands in the Warlords’ territory seemed tailored to one person or another, and he supposed that this one must have been what their hosts had deigned to give him. By Nel’s report, Luppi had been assigned to periodically infiltrate and stealthily patrol the interior rings of the Warlords’ territory, and would be out patrolling today. He had hoped that the Espada would be in the vicinity of Punk Hazard already, and he would be able to challenge him immediately.

No such luck. Luppi would be coming, presumably, but-

In an instant, all of Law’s senses flashed into high alert. A presence had materialized behind him, emerging from the Descorrer that Nel had created, which still hung in the air. They made no effort to hide themself, presumably because ordinary sensory powers currently weren’t working.

Without a moment’s thought or hesitation, Law leapt into action. He felt the familiar buzzing sensation that accompanied his body shifting position through space, swapping locations with a rock near the intruder’s location. As quickly as he materialized, he drew his sword and brought it down toward the intruder’s head, driving it down through their body and pinning them to the ground.

“YEOWCH!”

A shrill, high-pitched shriek filled the air as the person was slammed down. Law did a double-take. It was just…

“HEY!” Buggy screeched, “What the hell was that for?!”

Law blinked.

“Buggy?”

“In the flesh!” Buggy yowled, reaching a hand up and honking his red nose twice. “The flesh which you just stabbed with a sword!”

Law blinked again, and then pulled his sword out of Buggy and moved his weight off of his fellow Warlord, allowing him to stand up. Once again, he found himself rubbing his eyes.

“Good grief, stop being so dramatic. It’s not like swords hurt you.”

“It’s about the principle! And if you had used Haki, I’d have died!”

“I didn’t use Haki.”

“Again, principle!”

Law let out a long-suffering sigh and turned away.

“Whatever. I’m hunting down an enemy, piss off if you don’t want the next stab to hurt.”

“An enemy? Who?”

Law rolled his eyes and marched off, paying the clown no further mind. He had no energy for dealing with this moron right now.

“You know, Law…”

‘Damn it.’

“…you seem pretty grouchy. Are you always like this?”

“No. But I’m not always fighting in a war for the fate of the world, either.”

“F-Fate of the world?” Buggy laughed nervously as he balked. “Isn’t that a little dramatic?”

Law turned around sharply, and Buggy yelped, stopping short to avoid bumping into Law.

“Well, let’s see. On our team, we’ve got Blackbeard, who wants to claim the One Piece and conquer the world. Doflamingo, who wants to reclaim his title as a Celestial Dragon and… conquer the world. Both of them will get to wish for anything they want if they make it to the end, and that doesn’t account for the killers and psychopaths we’re fighting against on the other teams. So yeah, the fate of the world is about right.”

He whirled around and stomped off. His gaze landed on the mountain some distance away into which the Third Research Institute was built. It would be a good place to take refuge from the cold, until Luppi arrived. Behind him, he heard the crunch of Buggy’s footsteps and inwardly groaned.

“W-Well yeah, I suppose. But we’ll all have our wishes too, right? It’s not like they’re the only ones who’ll get what they want-”

“And if the rest of us die?”

“…Ah.” Buggy whimpered slightly as he shuffled after Law, wringing his hands. “W-Well, I guess I see your point…”

“Have you seriously given this no thought?” Law materialized a Room, and teleported away a large mass of snow blocking their path, before continuing onward. “What kind of an idiot hears that people are handing out wishes and doesn’t consider the bigger picture, what happens if someone bad gets one?”

“I-I guess I was worried more about my own life than anything,” Buggy laughed nervously. “I mean…” He squirmed and started to speak more quickly when Law shot him a glare. “Think about it! Blackbeard is super strong! Having him on our side is way better than having him against us! If you want to talk about the bigger picture, isn’t it smarter to make use of the allies we have instead of working against each other?”

“Right. Because Blackbeard has never killed any ally of his. Besides, let’s say we work together with Blackbeard and get to the end. Then what? What’s stopping him from wishing everyone he doesn’t like dead? There’s too much at stake to prioritize our own victory over ensuring Blackbeard doesn’t make it to the end. Doflamingo too, while we’re on the subject. He’d sooner die than let me survive this war.”

Buggy was silent, thinking over Law’s thoughts as they finally reached the entrance to the mountain institute. Then, finally, he spoke.

“Isn’t that how a loser thinks?”

“…What?” Law turned to glare at Buggy once again, certain he must have heard him wrong. The clown stumbled backward, flustered, clearly afraid of provoking Law.

“W-Well…! What I mean is…” He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find the words. “I sailed on the Pirate King’s ship, you know. He spent his life chasing what he wanted, and didn’t care about anything else. And he didn’t care whether we on his ship were friend or foe, only that we were chasing our dreams too.”

Law glowered at Buggy, who seemed to shrink under his gaze.

“S-So I guess what I’m trying to say is, shouldn’t you try to fight for your own dream, instead of dragging others down first? …Or… or something…?” He faltered and trailed off. Slowly, Law moved toward him, and Buggy cowered, visibly afraid of being hit. However, Law didn’t hit him, and instead got very close as the clown squeezed his eyes shut.

“And what about you, Buggy? What is it you want?”

“…H-Huh?” Buggy opened his eyes and blinked stupidly, momentarily forgetting his fear in confusion.

“What. Is. It. You. Want?”

“…” Buggy straightened up and let out a deep, exaggerated laugh, flexing his muscles. “Me, you ask? Well, I want what everyone else wants, of course! Wealth, fame, and power! Treasure beyond the imagination! The One Piece, and a seat atop the Pirate King’s throne!”

Law laughed dryly.

“And that’s your problem, Buggy.”

“H-Huh?”

“You’re a hack. A follower who latches on to the baddest bullies on the playground cuz they’re what you need to survive. Even your ‘dream’ isn’t yours, it’s one you took from other people.”

He jabbed a finger into Buggy’s chest.

“You have no ideals. No beliefs. Nothing to fight for and nothing to die for except yourself. And that’s the difference between you and me, because unlike you, I do have a real wish. A wish I’d do anything to get granted. Unlike you, though, it’s not some shallow thing I decided on because it sounded good. And unlike you, I’m still not selfish enough to doom the world for it.”

He shoved Buggy lightly and turned away, shouldering open the door to the institute.

“Say what you will about Blackbeard,” he spat out, tired eyes narrowing. “He has convictions. You have none. Go home, Buggy. Get back to hiding behind Mihawk.”

The door to the hideout swung wide, and Law moved to step inside, not waiting to hear Buggy’s response.

“Spicy!”

Law’s eyes shot open wide. His hand flew to his sword. Behind him, Buggy shrieked.

‘Impossible… my Scan should’ve…!’

Sitting a short distance inside the institute, leaning leisurely atop a railing, Luppi Antenor wore a sinister smile. Even with his Room active, from Law’s perspective, it seemed that there was no one there.

How was he hiding from detection? And more importantly… how did he know Law was going to be there?

The Sexta Espada grinned, and casually pulled Trepadora from its sheath.

“Welcome home, Law,” he said, cheerfully. “I’ll be poking you full of holes, now.”

Between the three teams, there were many who fought for the thrill of battle, or who at the very least found interest in taking measure of an opponent. Others viewed combat less recreationally, but were compelled by their own personal codes of honor to fight fairly, allowing their opponent the opportunity to fight back and avoiding cheap shots. Others still approached combat slowly and with caution, seeking to feel out their opponent before going for the kill. Whatever the reason, the majority of people in the arena were not the type to aim for a killing blow immediately upon encountering an opponent.

Trafalgar D. Water Law was not one of those people.

The instant Luppi announced his intentions, Law took three actions, all of which occurred in less than a second. First, he drew Kikoku from its sheath. Almost simultaneously, he willed Buggy away, to the furthest shore of Punk Hazard; despite his harsh words for the clown, his immediate instinct was to get his much weaker ally as far away from Luppi as possible. Third, he closed the gap between Luppi and himself, and brought his sword down.

“Amputate!”

Within the vicinity of his Room, Law possessed complete control over the spatial placement of objects. With a Room that spanned the entire island of Punk Hazard, he had say over every cubic meter of that area – and more pertinently, the body of Luppi himself. By separating space, he could cleave the Espada into pieces, leaving him helpless with a single sword swing and ensuring that he would not get a chance to act. While others might hold back, Law had always been sharp and pragmatic, the type to end a fight immediately before it could get out of hand.

Unfortunately for him, reality wasn’t always so simple.

Krrr-shing!

With a smirk, Luppi raised Trepadora, and met Law’s sword strike evenly. Beneath his feet, the ground split in half, as did the railing behind him, and hundreds of meters of laboratory machines behind him. However, even as energy crackled between their clashing swords, Luppi himself remained uncut. 

“My, my,” the boy sang, cheerfully. “I hope you didn’t think that would kill me~.”

Law gritted his teeth.

‘Damn!’

This phenomenon wasn’t unprecedented. Kaido and Big Mom had proven to have Haki too powerful to be moved or cut with Law’s Devil Fruit ability. Still, he had hoped their foes would be unable to replicate that particular problem.

Luppi’s sleeved hand shot up, and energy blasted out of it, into Law’s face point-blank. In an instant, however (with a quick “Shambles!”), Law vanished, and a chunk of rubble materialized in midair where he had been, and was melted into slag by Luppi’s Cero blast. Luppi looked surprised, but swung his sword up behind his head and angled it downward just in time to deflect a strike aimed for his back.

“Too slow!”

Spinning around, he swung a kick toward Law’s face, but Law parried, and the two exchanged sharp, deadly sword strikes, each aimed to kill. Their thoughts mirrored each other.

‘Evenly matched.’

Law grimaced. Luppi smiled.

“Takt!”

Raising his finger upward, Law ripped the ground up from under Luppi’s feet, launching the Espada into the air. Even if he couldn’t move Luppi directly, he still had full control over their surroundings. As Luppi shot upward, Law hurled Kikoku, and flexed his finger.

“Sterben!”

Spinning through the air under Law’s influence, Kikoku turned into a whirling buzzsaw, shooting around Luppi and driving inward from the side, intent on carving his head off. Just in time, Luppi raised Trepadora and parried, deflecting the blade away, only for it to shoot back in for another strike, grinding furiously against the flat of Trepadora’s blade and creating a shower of sparks. Straining against the onslaught, Luppi giggled.

“You’re pretty funny, Law!”

Law swung his finger down, and from the ceiling, an enormous pipe ripped and descended on Luppi, slamming into the back of his head. With a yelp, the Espada’s grin was wiped off his face, and he plummeted back down to ground level, buried under the pipe – and subsequently the massive chunks of rubble that followed. Kikoku flew back to Law’s hand.

‘Tch… my name, the fact that I’d be here, how to avoid my Scan… how the hell does he know all these things?’ Law’s tired eyes narrowed.

Though he asked himself the question, he already knew what the most likely answer was. Of course, he had never truly trusted Nel, and Itachi had caught her withholding information… but still, the possibility that his supposed ally had set him up didn’t sit right with him.

Of course, he didn’t have time to dwell on the thought. With an explosion of Reiatsu, the pile of rubble he had dropped on Luppi was blasted apart, and the Espada pulled himself up, looking cheerful and no worse for wear.

“Let’s stop messing around, shall we?” Though he was still wearing a joking smile, murderous intent laced the Arrancar’s tone. Ominous spiritual pressure congealed around him as he raised his sword arm up in front of his face. “Strangle… Trepadora.”

White energy exploded from him, dust kicking up and swirling around his form. Law gasped and skidded backward for a moment before he planted his feet, raising an arm to shield his face, Kikoku still clenched in his grasp. As intense Reiatsu assailed him, he was struck by the immensity of the pressure he was facing. The incredible power rippling from Luppi felt like it pushed against Law with the weight of a mountain…

No, more than that. It was as though the ocean itself, an ocean of blood and pain and malice, was pressing inward from every side, trying desperately to grind him into bone, and then dust. Agonizing pain ignited from every nerve and pore across his body, and the very core of his being quivered, his soul threatening to violently tear apart under the miasma. It was all he could manage to remain on his feet.

Nel had warned him, of course, that Luppi was the strongest of the Espada, save perhaps Grimmjow. Even after Luppi had proven a match for him without releasing, however, Law had not taken that claim seriously, with no true point of comparison to understand what it meant. Now, he realized that he had gravely miscalculated in choosing Luppi as his target. The foe he faced now… his energy was reminiscent of Mihawk’s, and steeped with ten times the bloodlust.

For the first time in a long while, Law felt afraid for his life.

—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The mountain fortress at the center of Punk Hazard’s icy ring was split in half – hurled hundreds of meters into the air. An instant later, the floating half of the mountain split apart into five gigantic chunks, which then split apart further as two tiny dots shot through the air at blinding speed, circling each other as each tried to gain the upper hand.

Law leapt backward through the air, carving the rubble around himself into smaller and smaller pieces and hurling them away, as he struggled to put distance between himself and his opponent. Luppi was a whirlwind of white, strange appendages smacking the oncoming rubble out of his path as he closed the gap between them with murderous intent.

‘Keep moving.’

With a whoosh!, an enormous white mass occupied the space that Law was in, but met only rubble as Law swapped his position with Shambles. An instant later, he shifted again to dodge another attack, and then again, and then again. With every second that passed, Law swapped places with a piece of falling rubble in the vicinity, phasing in and out of space at blinding speed, circling Luppi as the ground blurred beneath them.

‘Keep moving.’

He raised a finger, and more rubble rained down on his pursuer, but in a blur, the spiked appendages extending from Luppi’s back spun around like a propeller, sweeping away the onslaught with the force of a wind turbine.

“Toooooo~ weeeeeak~.” Luppi’s singsong voice rang out. As his appendages splayed, Law managed for the first time to get a good view of his new appearance.

From his back, eight long tentacles had sprouted like the limbs of an octopus, each covered along the edge with serrated barbs. Flying forth, the Espada’s gaze calmly and lazily flicked back and forth between the surrounding debris, instantly locking on to Law’s new location each time he teleported. As Law hurled chunks of stone and ice his way, the tentacles on his back spun, all eight of them whipping around autonomously to smash any incoming projectiles into powder.

“Come on, now, hold still won’t you?” Luppi smirked. “It’s only one against eight.”

As he spoke, each tentacle morphed into a deadly weapon. One of them transformed into a sword, and another into a violently spinning saw blade, and both carved through stone like butter. Two more charged up Ceros from their tips and let them loose, sweeping across the horizon and vaporizing hundreds of tons of ice. Two more still grew spikes, and fired them out like a barrage, blasting through countless stone shards and filling the air with a razor-sharp hailstorm.

As Law materialized, he swung Kikoku in a wide arc, and the spikes vanished, teleported into the far distance without ever getting near him. Drawing the sword back, Law angled its point toward the rapidly approaching Luppi, and then thrust it forward.

“Injection Shot!”

With a BANG!, the blade seemed to disappear, but just as quickly Luppi’s tentacles spun around and crossed in front of him to block the attack. With the immense force it had been propelled with, the sword pierced through the tentacles, but stalled to a halt over half a foot from Luppi’s unconcerned face. Though blood dripped from the spot where the sword pierced the tentacles, Luppi regarded the sword with faint amusement.

“Hmmm… not bad.”

Boom! A shockwave ripped from beneath Luppi’s feet, as his Sonído continued to propel him forward, his tentacles driving up the shaft of the sword that pierced them, and slamming into Law, propelling him backward with immense force.

‘Hrngh!’ Law gritted his teeth, the wind whipping at his back as Luppi’s rippling Reiatsu engulfed him. A moment later, he felt hot air impact him, and the hat was blown off his head by the thick air – Luppi had pushed him all the way past the center of the island, and into the lava ring.

Alarm flashed through Law’s mind. Lava wasn’t exactly a problem for him, but on this side of the island…

On the ground far below, completely oblivious to the battle taking place hundreds of meters skyward, a lone figure dashed across the searingly hot ground, yelping loudly as he hopped from foot to foot, trying desperately not to burn himself. Tears streaming down his face, Buggy the Clown bawled loudly.

Damn that Law! He thought, misery welling in his stomach. He couldn’t have teleported him back to the portal? He had to send him right into the million-degree furnace? And after Buggy had tried so kindly to help him…

Law’s bitter words echoed in his mind.

‘Say what you will about Blackbeard. He has convictions. You have none.’

Bitter resentment bubbled up. It wasn’t true! He had convictions, he had so many convictions… he was an Emperor of the Sea, after all! It was he who would claim the One Piece someday, he was sure of it!

And yet… part of him wondered if Law might-

BOOOM!

Buggy shrieked, eyes and tongue bugging out of his skull as the ground several meters to the right of him exploded, volcanic steam erupting into the air as the ground was impacted by a huge beam of light. As Buggy sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him, steaming tears streaming down his face, beams of light rained down from the sky above him, where Law and Luppi struggled against each other.

From each of Luppi’s tentacles, all of which were pinned together in front of him, pierced by Kikoku, Ceros blasted, descending on the scorched earth and tearing up the ground violently. The Arrancar laughed smugly, uncaring in the face of the wanton destruction he was causing.

‘Law’s Room has limited range,’ Luppi thought, an amused smile playing on his lips. ‘He can’t have teleported his ally any farther than this side of the island. I wonder how many Ceros it’ll take to cook the clown…’

Across from him, Law didn’t panic. In fact, he too wore an amused smirk.

‘Hold still…’

“Gamma Knife!”

BANG! Green energy exploded through Kikoku, into Luppi’s tentacles and up through the Espada’s body. The smile was wiped off Luppi’s face in an instant, as he howled in agony. Blood spewed from his mouth and he sputtered, gurgling violently and writhing in place. In spite of himself, Law felt a surge of elation at the arrogant Espada showing pain for the first time.

‘Got him!’

Law pulled back on Kikoku, intent on ripping it out from Luppi’s tentacles and following up with another attack.

It held firm, pinned in place.

Law’s sense of triumph vanished in an instant.

Slowly, Luppi raised his head, grinning as bubbles formed at the corners of his mouth.

“Did you expect that to kill me, Law?” he warbled.

Law’s eyes widened. He pulled harder on his sword.

“Small and weak. You have no tricks that my Reiatsu can’t overcome and suppress.”

Luppi brought a hand up, and it closed around Kikoku’s blade.

“You human trash are nothing compared to us.”

He clenched his hand down, and reinforced by his Hierro, snapped Kikoku cleanly in half. Sweeping his tentacles outward, he slammed into Law’s chest, just in time to catch him before he could teleport. The wind knocked out of him, Law was sent flying, smashing through the red-hot rubble that had been launched into the air by Luppi’s Cero.

A moment later, Luppi appeared behind him and slammed him again in the back, sending him careening back in the opposite direction this time. Cold air assaulted him as he hurtled back across the island’s median line, before another smack from Luppi’s tentacles hurled him farther, and then another and another – the Espada chasing him through the air and knocking him again and again like a beach ball, back toward the destroyed mountain they’d started at.

As Law struggled to regain his bearings, a tentacle wrapped around his body, constricting him tightly, and then with a mighty heave, the former Sexta hurled him head over heels, slamming through giant rock formations and finally into one of the largest chunks of mountain still left intact, which floated overhead, levitated by Law’s Room.

Law groaned, blood pouring down his forehead, but he had no time to rest. Wildly swinging his arm, he hurled a nearby chunk of mountain down toward the rapidly ascending Luppi, who was already closing in on his location. 

BOOOOOOM!

The mountain chunk split violently in half. An enormous wave of blue energy rippled outward, distorting the space itself in its path – an immensely devastating Gran Rey Cero. Law swung the broken hilt of Kikoku upward, and space in front of him condensed. Air molecules knit together en masse, and what should have been intangible oxygen was transformed into an impenetrable barrier denser than steel. Such a defense might not hold forever, Law understood, but it would buy him enough time to get out of the Cero’s path-

In a split second, Law’s hopes were dashed as the Gran Rey Cero punched through the barrier as though it weren’t even there! He flinched backward, dismayed; having underestimated the speed at which the attack would blow through his defenses, he had no time to take evasive action. He could only brace himself with Haki, as the light of Luppi’s Cero consumed the giant mountain portion that he stood on.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Vapor exploded into the sky, clouds rent apart as the mountain chunk – and every single surrounding mountain chunk, for that matter – was torn asunder under the volume of Luppi’s Reiatsu. The ice half of Punk Hazard immediately liquefied, and then became steam, as Law tumbled through the air half-conscious, his jacket burned away by the blast and his Haki sparking feebly, having just barely managed to save him from the brunt of the damage. 

WHAM!

A tentacle clocked him across the chest and he was hurled downward, slamming into the steaming ground and rolling over, before managing to land in a crouched position.

He panted heavily. Blood gushed from his head and mouth. His jacket had been burned off, and hung around him in tatters, leaving only the button-up beneath. One of his arms hung down at an unnatural angle, dislocated, while the other clutched the broken hilt of Kikoku tightly. Slowly, he sank down to one knee. Above him, Luppi hopped down through the air, bouncing between invisible footholds and looking jovial.

“Is that all?”

Haki crackled from Law’s body. His arm twisted in place and popped back into its socket, reset by the power of the Ope Ope no Mi.

“Hell no.”

Luppi grinned. In an instant, he crossed the gap between the two of them and seized Law by the throat. Law grunted, eyes widening in alarm as a Descorrer opened behind him. Luppi leered at him.

“After you, then.”

And with that, he hurled Law through the window in space.

—

Buggy sprinted over the crest of an icy hill, panting heavily as his clothes steamed, searing heat withering away upon sudden subjection to frigid cold. In the distance, hanging in the air, was the Descorrer that Law – and he, Buggy – had come through to reach Punk Hazard.

Relief filled the clown’s mind. He had never seen this portal-making power of Law’s before, and wasn’t sure if the hole in space would still be there when he arrived. He had been nervous about going through it in the first place, for that matter, when he had discovered it in Marineford’s docking bay, but after poking his head through he had been immediately assailed by his fellow Warlord.

As he stumbled toward the portal, over the crest of the hill he saw Law in the distance, faced off against Luppi. Buggy swallowed heavily, seeing the bloodied state that Law was in.

Surely, Law wouldn’t lose, right?

…No, that was impossible. Law could handle the enemy that they had run into, Buggy was sure of it. Sure, the boy seemed unusually strong, but Law was one of the most powerful pirates alive. It had been he who cast down the Emperor Big Mom, after all, alongside Eustass Kid. He wouldn’t need any help, certainly not from Buggy. The clown could afford to flee, run home safely and allow his more powerful ally to clean things up here. All would be fine.

Just as the thought crossed his mind and brought him some meager comfort, however, in the distance Luppi seized Law by the throat, and a window in space unfurled behind him. A split second later, they were gone, disappeared through the portal.

Buggy’s jaw dropped.

Not because of what had happened, however. He had no reason to lose faith in Law’s victory over what he had witnessed. Instead, his fearful gaze turned toward the window in space that hung behind him.

A window that looked exactly like the one Luppi had created.

Buggy was not a particularly smart man. He had a tendency to act before thinking and think without acting in all the wrong situations, and tended to speak more than he did either. Though he had never seen Law create a portal before with the Ope Ope no Mi, he had thought nothing of it (what couldn’t that fruit do, honestly?). But even in spite of his somewhat lackluster mental faculties, Buggy was not an idiot.

An Espada had made this portal.

Right in the middle of Marineford.

And Law had used it to get here.

Buggy swallowed heavily. Fear and paranoia swirled in his stomach, his gaze flicking back toward the distant Descorrer that Law had been dragged through. It didn’t seem as though Law was aligned with the Espada, given that he was currently locked in battle with one of them, but even so…

Buggy whimpered, glancing back and forth between the two portals, one leading home to Marineford, and the other leading straight into the middle of a fight to the death. In his mind, the thought of curling up in his nice, warm bed flashed, tantalizingly appealing in the shivering cold.

…Besides, what could Buggy truly do? He wasn’t smart. He wasn’t strong. If, some way somehow, Law couldn’t beat Luppi, what chance did he stand? 

Still, the thought of abandoning his comrade to fight and potentially die, even a comrade who had potentially betrayed them…

Law’s words echoed in his mind.

‘You have no ideals. No beliefs. Nothing to fight for and nothing to die for except yourself.’

“…”

Buggy’s jaw clenched. He squared his shoulders, his gaze sharpening as he stared with determination at the Descorrer that Law had been dragged through.

He knew what he had to do.

…

He turned around, and sprinted through the portal back to Marineford.

“MIHAAAAAAWK! HEEEEEEEELP!”

—

The murky blackness of the Garganta seemed like molasses as Law and Luppi sank into it, the Espada pushing the Warlord further and further down, as the distant light of the Descorrer shrank away in the distance. Law grunted, struggling furiously against Luppi’s grip as the two plummeted downward, faster and faster.

All around them, pinpricks of light streamed by, tiny masses of spiritual energy floating about throughout endless nothingness. When Law had traveled through Nel’s Descorrer before, he had emerged instantly at Punk Hazard, but it seemed that for whatever reason, Luppi was taking him the long way.

Luppi, for his part, felt a thrill as he was assailed by the familiar chill of the Garganta. He had been through it a thousand times, of course, but he loved the malicious feeling of creeping darkness that sank into his skin every time he did so. And this Garganta, the one that existed between the gaps and reality throughout the arena, felt far more foreboding than even the one he was accustomed to.

“The existence of a Garganta here is very curious,” that irritating scientist’s voice echoed in his ears.

“Hmmm? What do you mean curious?” Luppi had responded, only half caring. “Doesn’t the Garganta exist everywhere?”

“Not as a matter of necessity.”

“Eh…?”

“What I mean is, the Garganta is the swirling miasma that exists between the three realms of creation, through which Konpaku pass to transition between the lands of the living and dead.”

“Right.”

“And yet, the Garganta surrounding this arena appears entirely disconnected from the one we’re familiar with. There is no Dangai. No path back to Hueco Mundo, nor the Soul Society nor the Human World. We are isolated, in a space outside of space. Otherwise, we would be able to leave, after all. Isn’t it curious?”

Luppi had hummed, only barely paying attention.

“I suppooooooose.”

“But that’s not the most unusual part,” Szayel had smiled, and his expression appeared so sinister that it caught Luppi’s attention. “The most unusual part is…”

In the present, in the distance below them, a pinprick of light appeared, like a lone star shimmering through the black of night, and seemed to grow in size as they hurtled down toward it. Craning his neck, Law grunted in alarm as the light engulfed them.

…

…

…

The wind blew through the sky. Searing heat beat down, as the light of a sun above shone across the ground, blindingly bright. With a gasp, Law’s head shot up, and he leapt to his feet, swiveling around in alarm.

All around him, enormous craggy stone cliffs stretched up into the sky. Chasms carved through the earth, forming an enormous interconnected grid of canyons that were shaded from the sun. Beneath his feet, white rock stretched for miles around. Hanging in the air intermittently, glowing orbs of faintly shimmering light floated, barely visible in the sunlight.

Nothing about the area appeared unusual or like cause for alarm, but every fiber of Law’s being screamed to him that something was very wrong.

Intuitively, he knew he was not in the arena anymore.

He had no idea where he was.

“The most unusual part is…?” Luppi had chorused back at Szayel. The scientist licked his lips, clearly barely managing to contain his excitement.

“The most unusual part is that the Garganta here isn’t empty. There are Kyōgoku here.”

Luppi laughed heartily as he descended toward ground level, swiping his hand through a floating orb of light as he moved, which seemed to melt into his skin. Below, Law panted, an expression of tense alarm clear on his face.

“Where the hell are we?”

His head throbbed, and he reached a hand up to clutch at it. For a moment, he assumed that the pain was a result of his injuries, but moments later, reality became clear. Images flashed through his mind’s eye, of dozens… no, hundreds of people screaming and dying, agony consuming them in their final moments. Both of his eyes twitched. He didn’t know any of these people. What… was this?

“We’re in a Valley of Screams,” Luppi replied, with unusual seriousness in his tone. “The pain and regret of lost souls congeal here, disconnected from the flow of life and death.”

‘Lost… souls…?’

Luppi grinned, recognizing Law’s discomfort.

“That’s right. These are all memories of those who have died in the arena.”

“How… I don’t recognize any of these people…” Law groaned, more memories flooding his mind. “When did they…?”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Luppi hummed, bobbing from side to side as he shifted his balance between his feet. “It seems that this arena has been used before, many times in fact.” He bared his teeth, the stitches on his face contorting. “Isn’t it grand? Just how many lives do you think our captors have destroyed?”

“…” Law’s face darkened.

He had no time to contemplate the question, however, as Luppi swiped his hand through another mass of memories, absorbing it into himself. From all around, the masses of light appeared to float inward toward him, and met the same fate. From the end of each of Luppi’s eight tentacles, energy began to coalesce, substantially stronger than what he had unleashed previously. Law raised Kikoku’s broken hilt, alarmed.

“The energy of this Valley is far more vast than that which the Blanks can produce normally,” Luppi said, derangement in his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to slip away unnoticed, get a taste of it for myself… I wonder how much I can destroy with this much power?”

—

[Interlude 5: Location Unknown]

It was dark. Desolate. Empty. Dark miasma swirled, an otherworldly energy filling the air, not unlike the creeping chill which was found in the Garganta but distinctly different, were anyone who had experienced both to attempt to compare the two. The Garganta was ominous, to be sure, but this realm of darkness felt… sinister.

Of course, the world in question had not existed for very long. Only a few days in fact, but it had been formed from the shadows cast by every object. It was the space between spaces, everywhere in the arena and nowhere at the same time.

As the darkness rose around him in smoke-like plumes, at the center of the realm lounged its creator, the feared pirate Blackbeard. Until moments ago, Blackbeard had been laughing jovially, entertaining himself by gnawing on food and watching the mirage images of the arena’s goings-on that materialized from the shadows around him. Even when Doflamingo had died and his army of string soldiers had been destroyed with him, Teach hadn’t despaired. He had been at sea long enough to know that there were many paths to the same destination.

Now, however, Blackbeard’s cheer had sharply ceased as the tenebrous realm around him shook. Lurching forward atop his throne of darkness, his eyes rose to gaze into the infinite shadow with dismay.

“What the hell is that?” he growled as another tremor took hold of his realm. At his side, the mass of black liquid known as Black Zetsu stirred.

“It appears that some sort of unearthly power has gripped the arena, majesty,” Black Zetsu growled. “And is leaking into your realm.”

Blackbeard scoffed.

“Obviously! I’m asking where it’s coming from!”

“Law and Luppi departed the arena together and have yet to materialize. Perhaps this is their doing.”

Blackbeard’s eyes narrowed.

“Zehahahaha… that upstart Law isn’t strong enough to do this.” His face twisted into a toothy grin. “Which means it must be Luppi. It’ll be a shame I can’t watch Law struggle.”

He lounged back in his chair, chuckling darkly.

“But it’s not time for me to jump in yet.”

—

BOOM! BOOM! BOOOOOOOM!

As massive amounts of stone were blasted into the sky, Law leapt between chunks of rubble. In the air behind him, not bothering to pursue, Luppi stood laughing at the top of his lungs, Gran Rey Ceros ripping from each of his tentacles and blasting apart miles upon miles of the stone that comprised the Valley of Screams beneath them.

The Reiatsu that filled the air was immense, and grew stronger by the second as Luppi absorbed more and more of the world’s ambient energy. Space rippled and tore. The sun in the sky shimmered, looking as though it was bleeding. Panic filled Law’s stomach as he sprinted away at full speed, trying desperately to put as much distance as possible between himself and the manic Espada. 

This was bad. This was beyond bad. He had no idea whether the other Espada had any clue that this Valley existed, but trapped within its confines with Luppi, it was clear to Law that all of a sudden there was far more than the fate of the world at stake. Forget Blackbeard, forget Doflamingo… if Luppi was able to absorb the Valley’s power entirely…

“Incredible!” Luppi howled, maniacally. “Incredible! This power… transcends even Grimmjow’s, I’m sure of it!” He gazed down wildly at his hands, which seemed to swell with untold energy. “I could tear down everything with this!”

Law twisted in midair as he landed atop a chunk of rubble. Raising Kikoku’s broken hilt to eye level, he concentrated, and a blue bubble of energy appeared in his hand.

“K-Room… Scalpel!”

Drawing his hand along the broken blade of his sword, the space around it seemed to coalesce into a shimmering, transparent blade of blue energy. Drawing the newly-formed sword back, Law surveyed the distant Luppi.

He knew that the situation was grim. Luppi was stronger now than perhaps anyone he had ever fought, and it seemed entirely unlikely that help was coming. Still, if Luppi was able to escape the Valley and return to the arena, there was a high likelihood that everything would be over.

It was up to Law to stop him. Defeat was not an option.

With a determined snarl, he leapt off the chunk of rubble, and vanished into midair. In an instant, he shifted position in space, materializing above Luppi’s head. Bringing down the Room-coated Kikoku, he was met in midair by one of Luppi’s tentacles, which rose to block the strike. Luppi didn’t even glance at him.

“Anesthesia!”

Fwoosh! The sword phased through the tentacle like it wasn’t there, and drove down into Luppi’s shoulder with a spray of blood. The confidence on the Espada’s face was replaced by a look of shock as he cried out in pain, caught off guard. Determination welled up within Law, and with it his Haki cascaded to a higher level.

“Incision Wille!”

With a sweeping movement, the space on either side of Kikoku split apart. Amplified by the power of Law’s Awakening mixing with his swelling Haki, Luppi’s arm was carved from his shoulder in an explosion of blood! 

As the Espada screamed, Law teleported again to his other side, ready to bring Kikoku down once again to sever the other arm. Learning from his mistakes, however, Luppi’s tentacle moved not to intercept the sword strike, but to strike Law directly. Catching him across the chest with a sickening crunch!, the tentacle smacked him away, and the swing of his sword was too shallow, scoring only a thin cut across Luppi’s cheek.

Law coughed blood as he hurtled through the air. A quick Scan told him that the blow had broken two of his ribs, but it took only a moment of pressing his hand to his chest to anchor them back in place with his Room. That would need to suffice, for now; he could fully mend them later, provided he survived.

Luppi, unmoved, seethed as the cut across his cheek sealed itself, and his missing arm began to slowly sprout back from its severed stump. Though he normally lacked high-speed regeneration on par with the likes of Ulquiorra, the Valley’s power seemed to amplify all of his natural Hollow traits.

“Insolent human…!”

As Law materialized above him, he swung all eight of his tentacles in a propeller-like motion, slamming the Warlord away once more.

“You wanna play? I’ll crush you like the ant you are!”

Sword clashed against tentacles as Law and Luppi tore through the sky above the Valley of Screams. Still on the back foot, it was only Law’s teleportation and Awakening keeping him in the game, as his nearly tireless enemy only continued to absorb the surrounding Blanks and get stronger and stronger.

As he fell back, Law groaned, struggling to keep his attention on Luppi as memory after memory flowed into his head. Memories of lives long destroyed. Memories of nobody.

As he found himself momentarily distracted, two of Luppi’s tentacles shot out and wrapped around him, crushing him inward. The ribs that he had reinforced with his room splintered, and pain shot up through his chest.

“Hrk!” One eye squeezed closed as Law gritted his teeth, straining against Luppi’s ever-growing strength.

“End of the line, Law,” Luppi smiled maliciously, energy amassing at the end of his other six tentacles. “Your memories won’t go to waste.”

‘Damn it…! I can’t… die here…!’ Exhaustion from days without rest gripped Law. Memories flooded his mind, his own this time. Memories of his parents, of Lammy, of Rosinante and of the Heart Pirates that he had come to call his friends, his crew. The wish at the end of the war, so tantalizing, seemed so very distant, so very unreachable.

Squeezing his eyes closed, Law felt defeat grip him. He had wanted so badly to see everyone again that he had been running himself ragged…

And now, it seemed that he was going to get his wish.

SHING!

Law’s eyes flew open as blood exploded from the tentacles binding him and Luppi’s howl of pain split the air, his tentacles severed at their halfway point. As the constricted Law began to plummet, the tentacle fragments wrapped around him split apart into dozens of bloody chunks, and a strong hand seized the back of his shirt, dragging him down to earth.

As he was deposited unceremoniously onto the stone, he coughed violently, air flowing back into his formerly squeezed lungs.

“Pull yourself together, fool.”

Law froze, coughs trailing off weakly. Slowly, he raised his head. Standing in front of him, sword in hand and gaze fixed imperiously on their floating foe, Dracule Mihawk stood, Haki seeping from him, slowly winding down from the attack.

“M-Mihawk…!” Law coughed, dragging himself to his feet. “How did you-?”

“That idiot dragged me out here,” Mihawk jerked his head to the side, directing Law’s gaze toward a boulder in the distance, behind which Buggy was trying and failing to hide, clearly scared out of his wits. “Told me a very interesting story, too, about following you through an Espada portal. I hope you’re prepared to enlighten me about that.”

Law swallowed heavily, and then shook his head to clear it. They had no time to worry about this.

“That Espada – Luppi – he’s absorbing power from this pocket space. If he keeps going-”

“Yes, I know,” Mihawk interrupted. “His power is already beginning to destabilize this dimension. I can see it with my Observation Haki.”

‘…Huh? Observation Haki works here…?’

Law hadn’t noticed it, too distracted with the fight, but as soon as he focused his senses, he felt his perceptions expand. Excitement stirred in his gut; although it had only been a few days, he hadn’t realized how desperately he had missed his enhanced senses. Blackbeard’s power must not have reached this far…!

Shaking his head after a moment, however, Law pushed the thought out of his head. They had bigger things to worry about.

“We have to stop him, before he grows too powerful.”

Mihawk sniffed indifferently, drawing Yoru back, Haki channeling up through the blade.

“Feh. A rabbit is a rabbit, no matter how many carrots it eats. You can pierce him with your Room, no?”

“I can, for now.”

“Then this will be simple. I’ll create an opening, you’ll do the rest.”

“Me?”

Mihawk turned to glower at him.

“Yes, you, fool! You are the one who created this mess, by charging in alone without rest! You are the one who will finish it, and then you will not disobey my orders ever again. Are we clear?”

Law silently stared at Mihawk. Slowly, all the exhaustion and anger he had felt for days melted away, and gave way to shame. He had spent days plotting against the other Warlords, and prowled the arena convinced that he alone understood what needed to be done, that he needed to work himself to the bone to get his wish… and yet, even after Law had spurned the other Warlords at every turn, Mihawk had come to save him anyway. He had saved him. Law would have died if it hadn’t been for him, that much was clear.

Law moved to stand beside him, raising the still-empowered Kikoku.

“We’re clear.”

Mihawk nodded, though his scowl remained.

“Then teleport me.”

—

“Not good enough. Try again.”

Blood dripped down the walls. Craters adorned the room that he stood in. Energy boiled up within the boy as he breathed in and out heavily, adrenaline coursing through his system. This power that he had been given was incredible. A wellspring of potential.

And yet, those words were all he ever heard from his elder.

“Hahhhh?!” he cried, anger raising his already powerful energy as he whirled around and glowered at the taller man, who gazed down at him with a bored expression. “The hell do you mean, not good enough?! I’m already stronger than Septima through Noventa! When will I be good enough?!”

The man bared his teeth, leaning down to leer in the boy’s face. Involuntarily, the boy took a step backward.

“When I say so, runt! You’re my Fracción, after all. And right now, I don’t say so. You oughta learn your place – you’re talking to the future king, ya know.”

The boy’s lips curled up into a smile, but fury boiled in his eyes. Though he was not yet as mad as he would one day become in his hunger for destruction, the beginnings of insanity were clear as day in his expression.

“Lord Aizen will say differently. Even if you never let me come along on missions, I’m already good enough to be an Espada. Soon, I bet I’ll be even stronger than you.”

“Ha!” The man scoffed and turned away, strutting out of the room with his hands in his pockets. “You don’t know anything.” He turned to glance over his shoulder, the Hollow jawline on the right side of his face matching his cocky grin. He spat his next words with contempt.

“As long as I’m an Espada, a weakling like you’ll never be one. Bet on that.”

—

Luppi’s blood seemed to boil in his veins, as Grimmjow’s words echoed through his head, and he grinned. Overwhelming power coursed through him, power beyond compare. The power to destroy everything.

Grimmjow would eat his words. He would burn, along with everything else. Along with that rotten shinigami Kurotsuchi, along with the chained Lord Aizen who had failed all of them, along with the entire world that had always spurned him.

They would all burn.

Almost instantly, instinctively, his tentacles shot up and met the swordsman’s swing evenly. The massive black blade he wielded ground furiously against the spiked tendril, Haki against Hierro, but didn’t cut through. Luppi bared his teeth and his other tentacles converged on the man’s location, but with inhuman speed Mihawk launched himself up, vaulting over the tentacles and swinging his sword in a wide arc. The reaction was almost too quick, unnatural – it was as though he’d seen the future.

However, as blue air slashes descended upon Luppi, he nonetheless parried all of them with his tentacles at blinding speed. Thin red gashes opened up across their surface where Mihawk’s attacks struck, but an instant later they had healed. Luppi let out a howling laughter.

“You’re strong, but not strong enough! I’ll rip you in half, you bastard!”

As the ends of his tentacles morphed into buzzsaws and launched toward the swordsman, however, an enormous scythe of energy swept up from ground level and phased through them, carving the weapons away in a flash. Luppi’s cheer turned into a flash of anger as his gaze flickered toward Law on the ground below.

“Fuck off!” he roared, and raised a tentacle, charging a Gran Rey Cero from its end. Before he could let it loose, however, Mihawk lunged forward and seized the sphere of energy with his bare hand!

Luppi’s eyes widened in shock as he turned slowly toward his foe. Haki coated Mihawk’s hand, but it cracked and seemed to crumble away from the sheer power he had just snuffed out. Severe burns covered his palm, but the swordsman didn’t even flinch. Seizing Yoru in both hands, he brought it down across Luppi’s chest, and too slow and stunned to parry with his tentacles, the Espada howled in pain as a long gash opened from his shoulder to his hip.

As he toppled backward through the air, Mihawk cried out sharply.

“Now, Law!”

In an instant, however, so quickly that the two halves of his body hadn’t enough time to slide apart, Luppi recovered, his flesh knitting itself back together. With the super-charged Reiatsu of the Valley, even his internal organs repaired themselves – though slower than his flesh, he noticed, as blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.

Righting himself in midair, Luppi twisted to the side as a slash of Law’s sword split the air where he’d been a moment prior.

“Still not good enough!” he shrieked, and absorbed even more energy from his surroundings into himself. The ground below trembled, and lightning split the sky. The Valley of Screams was coming undone. The Blanks that remained seemed to wail in despair as the fabric of space quivered in silent agony.

Gran Rey Ceros charged from the ends of each of Luppi’s eight tentacles, and all eight of them angled toward Mihawk with murderous intent. Rage boiled in the depths of Luppi’s soul. These two… neither of them would have stood a chance against him alone. Weaklings, the both of them…!

“Die, trash!”

Eight Gran Rey Ceros ripped through space and converged on Mihawk, who swung Yoru with both hands and met them head-on. The attack split around the sword, Conqueror’s Haki exploding forth and rending through space as the world’s strongest swordsman collided with Luppi’s overwhelming might.

In spite of himself, Mihawk strained under the force of the attack. Even with all the swordsman’s strength, Luppi would have been a difficult fight for him normally. With the power of the Valley behind him, the Espada was an overwhelming force. His sword, emitting Conqueror’s Haki even more powerful than that of Shanks the Emperor, trembled violently against the immense Reiatsu pressing against it. His hands, reinforced with Armament that would have matched that of Whitebeard himself in his prime, blistered under the overwhelming heat.

With a roar of effort, Mihawk drove the sword down, and a scythe of wind carved through the length of the Gran Rey Cero and scored a gash along Luppi’s shoulder. The Hollow’s eyes widened in shock and fury as his attack dissipated.

A split second later, Mihawk had lunged across the gap between them, propelling himself with air pressure, and his hand seized Luppi by the face. Tentacles whipped around furiously, slamming into Mihawk’s body and bruising it. Luppi’s Reiatsu exploded outward and the heat of it seared Mihawk’s skin. His breathing became labored.

“LAW!” he roared. Below, the other Warlord angled the point of his sword upward, one eye closed as he took aim.

“Shambles!”

In a flash, Mihawk vanished. Luppi froze in place, momentarily disoriented as Mihawk’s grip on his face disappeared. Right in front of him, Law had materialized, and the point of Kikoku was angled directly at Luppi’s chest, mere centimeters away. Luppi’s mouth fell open, as for a split second he realized what was about to happen.

In an instant, the sword expanded, driving straight through Luppi’s chest and into the distance. Luppi gagged on his own blood, and his eyes bulged as he sensed where the sword had gone. In the far distance behind him, it had pierced all the way back through the Descorrer that he had brought Law through to begin with.

“W…Wait-!”

“Puncture… Wille!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

A shockwave exploded along the length of the sword, rippling from the hilt up through Luppi’s body, and with an explosion of force the Espada was hurled backward, blasted through the Descorrer with enough force to rupture the earth itself. Agony exploded through Luppi’s body and he let out a bloodcurdling scream. The energy released from Law’s sword coursed violently through him, but filled to the brim as he already was by the power of the Valley, his resilience was already strained, and he lacked the fortitude to suppress the attack as he had previously. Each of his organs ruptured violently, one-by-one like balloons filled too far. Aneurysms opened in his brain like searing fireworks.

As he hurtled through the Descorrer, for a split second, the frigid cold of Punk Hazard assailed him, and then not a moment later, the entire island split clean in half under the force of Law’s Puncture Wille, an enormous circular hole bored clean through all the way to the ocean on the far side.

For a moment, Luppi hung in midair, quivering as pain flared through every part of his body, the shock and incredible force of the attack having reduced him to a point of near-unconsciousness.

A moment later, his each and every nerve seemed to ignite as the immense Reiatsu that he had absorbed ripped from his flesh, like a water balloon that had been poked through with a needle, and his scream of pain escalated into an unearthly, inhuman screech of misery and despair. Energy exploded into the sky and split the dark clouds above, the wails of the memories he had absorbed echoing through the atmosphere as they escaped him.

Luppi’s body convulsed, his muscles spasming as he fell from the air like a broken toy, landing on the ground hard in a crumpled heap, as every cell in his body sizzled and steamed.

His mouth hung open limply, unable to formulate even a feeble groan. His mind struggled to put together a coherent thought. His face sagged, as the stitches holding his skin together had come undone.

He had no awareness of the men who came to stand over him.

“Hmph,” Mihawk crossed his arms, looking down at the defeated Arrancar sourly. Pain still twinged through him. “A disappointing ending.”

Law grimaced, sagging with clear exhaustion.

“Maybe. But it’s over, and that’s what’s important.”

Mihawk nodded curtly.

“Go wait with Buggy. I’ll finish him off.”

“Are you sure?”

Mihawk shot Law a glare, and the other Warlord winced, raising his hands in surrender as he turned to trudge off toward the clown, who stood awkwardly by the Descorrer in the distance.

“Law.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little tryst. I’ll still expect a full explanation from you, later.”

Law didn’t glance back, and simply waved a hand in acknowledgement as he staggered away. Exhaling from his nose, Mihawk turned his attention back toward the nearly catatonic Luppi, who lay spread-eagled.

“…Y…you…”

“So you’re still conscious. You are powerful indeed.” Mihawk fell silent, looking down at Luppi contemplatively, his arms crossed. “If your power hadn’t exploded out of you like it did, you probably could have continued the fight. You might have even won.”

He knelt down beside Luppi, regarding him with curiosity.

“No wine glass can be filled infinitely. Eventually, it will start to overflow. For what reason did you choose to overfill yourself?”

Luppi pulled his sagging mouth closed, and swallowed feebly, his dry lips cracking.

“I… just wanted… to be good enough.”

Mihawk was silent. Luppi’s eyes stared blankly at the sky, rimmed with red.

“Good enough… to kill that… blue-haired bastard…”

Emotion choked his voice.

“I never… I’ll never…”

“You were impatient. You prioritized speed over effectiveness. That which satisfied you in the moment over that which would have actually gotten you what you want. That is why you failed.”

Mihawk glanced over his shoulder, at the retreating Law. Luppi’s tired eyes squeezed closed, and he grimaced in disgust and anger. Mihawk continued.

“If you had taken it slower, or even if you’d had an ally at your back, things might have ended differently.”

“…”

“But if it means anything…” Mihawk’s eyes gleamed as he gazed down at Luppi. “I’ll kill that rival of yours. And your whole organization along with him, for that matter.”

“…”

Mihawk drew Yoru, and angled it downward toward the defeated Luppi’s chest. Before he could bring it down, however, Luppi spoke.

“I hope you both… burn in hell.”

Mihawk was silent for a moment, and then shrugged.

“Yes, I suppose that’s fair. Goodbye, Espada.”

He raised Yoru, ready to bring it down, but paused. Luppi’s hate-filled eyes had turned glassy, staring up at the endless sky that he couldn’t reach, as they always had.

Mihawk lowered Yoru. His job had been finished for him. Luppi Antenor was no more.

All of a sudden, a crackling, warbling voice filled the air, and all three Warlords jumped, startled.

“ATTENTION ALL PARTICIPANTS! ONE OF THE ESPADA HAS DIED! SEVEN REMAIN!”

Mihawk’s gaze, like Luppi’s, rose to the sky, his eyebrows furrowing in surprise. As Law and Buggy moved over to stand next to him again, he pointed upward.

“Look.”

From the hole in the clouds that Luppi’s energy had punctured, bright rays of light streamed through, casting the arena in a faint glow that it hadn’t seen in days, the gloom burned away by the explosion. On the edges of the clouds, shadow-like energy seemed to fester, but was slowly receding, spreading outward away from the center and dissipating in the light.

The fog that had covered the arena was clearing away.

“Seven.” Mihawk broke the silence. “The Espada were at nine last we heard, which means that other than Luppi, one of them has died.”

‘Ulquiorra or Nel.’ Law thought, before pushing the thought out of his head. “We don’t know yet how many Akatsuki or Warlords are left, until another one dies from each.”

“Unfortunately, we have bigger problems.”

“Hm?”

Mihawk crossed his arms, and his face settled into a deep scowl.

“When we were in that dimension, the ambient energy of the area amplified my Observation Haki well beyond the norm. I’m sure you felt it too?”

“Er…” Law blinked. In all honesty, he hadn’t noticed anything of the sort.

“Feh. Well, in any case, I was able to see much further into the future than normal, and caught a glimpse of a terrible outcome… though only briefly. Now that we’ve left that dimension, the vision has become hazy. In any case, we must move quickly.” His eyes narrowed.

“We don’t have much time.”

—

[Las Noches – 12:36 PM]

In Las Noches’ infirmary, where Ulquiorra had previously been resting, Nel now lay unconscious, the wound through her stomach heavily bandaged. Szayel hovered above her, his eyes scanning the monitors that showed her vitals.

“It seems we’re in luck, Grimmjow,” he said, not altogether earnestly. “You got her back here quickly enough that she’ll be alright. How… wonderful.”

Grimmjow scoffed.

“It is a good thing, dumbass. She’s strong, we’ll need her.” As he turned to leave, Szayel spoke up again from behind him.

“Truth be told, I think we’d have been better off leaving her to die. After all, she did betray us.”

Grimmjow paused. Szayel continued.

“Without the spirit-recording bugs you planted on her, we would have had no idea what she was planning. Of course, I was able to turn that to our advantage, come up with countermeasures to some of our foes’ abilities, like that Law boy’s Scan. But sweet, innocent, treacherous Nelliel knew nothing of that.”

He turned to gaze at the woman in question as he spoke, and his hand slowly reached out, his fingers flexing as though he itched to close them around her neck, and bloodlust began to emanate from him.

“I’m not so sure that someone so foolish should be allowed to-”

“Idiot.”

“Hm?”

Grimmjow turned slightly to glance at Szayel out of the corner of his eye, a flat, arrogant sneer across his face.

“You don’t seriously think that Nel came up with that plan of hers by herself, do ya?”

“…Hm?”

Szayel’s gaze turned sharply off of Nel.

“What do you mean?”

Grimmjow scoffed and turned around.

“I’m saying it was my idea. I sent her in to get intel on the other two teams, learn their strengths and weaknesses, and set ‘em up for us to pick them off. Get dangerous threats off the board right away, or at least wear them down enough for the rest of us to clean house afterward.”

“…And yet, Ulquiorra and Luppi both perished in their battles. Why on earth would you take credit for a strategy that has been such a failure?” The question hung in the air for a few moments, as Grimmjow didn’t respond. “…You know what I think? I think little Nel ran off on her own, and you’re trying to cover for her. Is that it, Grimmjow? Do you have a soft spot for your friends? How unbecoming, of someone who would call himself king-”

Fwoom. Szayel froze, his entire body locking up as Grimmjow’s Reiatsu slammed into him with the force of a sledgehammer. Beads of sweat formed across his entire body and slid upward, themselves pressed back by the former Sexta’s spiritual pressure. Slowly, hands in his pockets, Grimmjow walked toward Szayel, who stood rooted in place, the smug grin wiped off his face as he trembled rigidly. Grimmjow leaned in close to Szayel’s ear, amusement in his eyes.

“You talk too much, rat,” Grimmjow said, softly. “I said it was my idea, so it was my idea. If you’ve got a problem with that, we can ‘debate’ it right here, right now.”

Szayel swallowed heavily, struggling to draw breaths. Just barely, he managed to shake his head. Grimmjow grinned.

“Good. Besides, who was it that put weird ideas in Luppi’s head when you thought the rest of us weren’t looking, eh? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re the one conspiring against us.”

Even more frantically than before, Szayel shook his head. A couple tense moments later, Grimmjow sneered, and his Reiatsu ceased. Szayel fell to his knees, taking deep, shuddering gasps as Grimmjow turned away. Letting out a dry chuckle, Grimmjow spoke in the same even tone he had before.

“Besides, I wouldn’t say Nel’s plan was a complete failure. We know most of the most dangerous threats now. Half the members of the other two teams have run themselves ragged fighting bit players. And all but a handful have been lured out of their strongholds.”

“…”

Grimmjow’s grin widened as he turned back to glance at Szayel.

“Come on, four-eyes, you’re smart… where do you think all our other Espada have gone?”

—

Far away, on Punk Hazard, the Descorrers that Nel and Luppi had created snapped closed simultaneously, before the Warlords present could pass through. Law and Buggy let out cries of dismay at being suddenly stranded, while Mihawk’s lips pressed together grimly.

“Damn it!” Law growled. “Room!”

The air around Punk Hazard seemed to ionize, and Law disappeared, teleported hundreds of meters into the air. A moment later, he vanished again, blipping through the air toward the mainland to the north. Mihawk, meanwhile, turned southward toward where Marineford was located, well beyond the horizon.

‘It’s starting…’

—

Too far to be seen from Punk Hazard by the naked eye, Marineford shook violently. From where they sat conversing within the Marine fortress, Boa Hancock and her visitor shot to their feet. Mihawk hadn’t been gone very long, however…

Boooom!

Another blast struck the side of Marine Headquarters, loosed from atop the execution platform below, blowing out a huge chunk of stone and steaming furiously. The man who had fired it stood cackling, his enormous crescent blade hefted over his shoulder, the end of his tongue smoking as it lolled out of his mouth.

“Come on, come on!” Nnoitra Gilga screeched, his normally narrowed eyes wide and mad. “Bring out that Mihawk bastard already! I’m itching for a good fight!”

—

Far to the northwest, in the heart of Akatsuki territory, a Descorrer opened, and Tier Harribel strolled out, adjusting the cape that hung around her shoulders. Rain poured down around her, pitter-pattering against the stone underfoot, but while the water might have brought her comfort normally, the Espada’s leader was focused entirely on the task ahead.

To her left, Starrk moved inward to stand at her side, Lilynette bouncing up and down with excitement behind him.

“Everything ready to go?” Starrk asked with a yawn, scratching his head. To their right, Baraggan huffed and crossed his arms, his gaze focused ahead rather than on Harribel.

“We’ve waited more than long enough.”

Together, Harribel in the center, the former top three Espada gazed up at the looming fortress before them, lightning crashing down around the tower that stood at the center of the Rain Village. As the unnatural rain poured down on their heads, their presence had not gone unnoticed by the man who ruled the village, and the violently roiling storm was a testament to that fact. Harribel’s eyes narrowed.

“Let’s go.”

In the heart of the fortress, the man in question stood ready, as metal pods sprang open around him. With Konan off in another territory, he would have to confront the coming threat alone… but that would not be a problem. He was never alone, after all.

From the pods, five other figures leapt out to stand alongside him. All of their eyes opened, the Rinnegan’s purple rings gleaming in the darkness. The Espada that were coming may have been a powerful united force, but the Akatsuki’s leader had never lost a battle.

Prepared to engage the coming threat…

The Six Paths of Pain stood in attendance.

—

Back at Las Noches, Grimmjow stood atop the fortress. Though he had his misgivings, now that Marine HQ and the Rain Village were nearly defenseless, Harribel had given the order: it was time to strike.

The strongest Espada’s bloodthirsty grin widened sharply. Now was where the fun would begin.

“Let’s crush them.”

…

…

…

…

…

END OF CHAPTER 2

…

…

…

[Epilogue]

Not far from the spot where Fish-Man Island rested at the depths of the ocean, the water stirred slightly, a dark mass passing through it. It had been some time since the battle at the bottom of the sea had come to an end… and an unexpected survivor had emerged.

As the water gave way to land, the mass dragged itself onto the rocky shore, seawater pouring off of it. Its spiked exterior shuddering in the cold air, Samehada traipsed onto land, sounds almost like coughs sputtering from its jaws.

Quivering, the legendary blade warped and twisted, and its spikes parted as a man fell from the center of the blade, landing on his hands and knees with shuddering gasps.

Slowly, weakly, Kisame Hoshigaki dragged himself to his feet. In spite of his emaciated frame, his sharp teeth bared in gleeful victory.

It had been a simple trick, really, to substitute himself out for that foolish White Zetsu at the last second. He had stored the creature within Samehada as an insurance policy, and as the Sea Kings had bore down on him, the fake Kisame had no time to react to the situation before being torn limb from limb. It was not unlike a tactic that he had employed to escape a certain death attack from the Fourth Raikage and Killer B.

Regardless of the method, however, he had done it.

He had survived.

Kisame seized Samehada by the hilt, snarling slightly as he staggered, his shaky breath releasing as steam into the freezing air. Spending time within Samehada was always dangerous, and left him drained of nearly all his chakra – no matter, he would simply find a way to recharge himself. 

Kneeling down, Kisame bit his thumb until he tasted blood and then pressed his hand into the ice rock at the ocean’s edge. In a puff of smoke, a shark materialized, and he flexed his throat muscles, regurgitating a scroll. He had intended to pass his intel from patrolling off to Itachi earlier, during their planned rendezvous in the Hidden Mist, but given the circumstances he would need to improvise.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here.”

Kisame froze. The shark grabbed the scroll within its teeth and shot off into the water. Slowly, the Monster of the Hidden Mist stood and turned around, Samehada still clenched within his grip.

Standing some distance away, Dracule Mihawk gazed down at him. He had washed up on the shore of Punk Hazard.

In spite of himself, Kisame didn’t feel afraid. In fact, elation gripped him.

“Kehehe… it looks like this is my lucky day. I’ve been hoping to fight you, swordsman.”

“Hmph. You don’t look well.”

“Kehehe… a minor inconvenience. I’ll simply have to feast on your energy.”

Kisame raised Samehada, readying himself for battle. Mihawk was perfect! A better reservoir of spiritual energy couldn’t possibly have presented itself.

For his part, Mihawk gazed at Kisame with an odd expression on his face. Was it… pity?

With a sigh, the world’s strongest swordsman reached into his coat and procured a small, black knife.

“Let’s get this taken care of, then.”

Kisame froze, his hungry expression slipping into one of confusion.

“The hell is that?”

“The smallest weapon I own. I must apologize, I do not have smaller.”

“…Eh?”

“Come now, you mustn’t be surprised. What kind of fool uses a cannon to hunt rabbits?”

Veins bulged in Kisame’s head. The man was insulting him.

“Cocky bastard. I’ll make you regret taking me so lightly!”

Samehada’s spikes flared and it let out an animalistic roar as Kisame drew it back. Faster than the eye could track, he blitzed forward, and Mihawk met him head-on with the tiny knife.

Blood filled the air.

Kisame gagged as his chest split down the center, diagonally, and the two halves of his emaciated body split apart, before numerous other cuts opened up across his body and he split into countless smaller chunks – carved into pieces so fast he didn’t even see it.

“ATTENTION ALL PARTICIPANTS! ONE OF THE AKATSUKI HAVE DIED! SIX REMAIN!”

Without looking, Mihawk’s free hand shot out and seized Samehada by the hilt as it spun through the air. In an instant, Haki exploded out of him and flowed through the legendary blade, which swelled dangerously. Mihawk’s arm seemed to wither under its pull, his muscles shrinking and atrophying as Haki was ripped from him into the weapon.

“Hm.” His gaze shifted over to the blade. “No you don’t.”

With incredible force of will, Mihawk wrenched his Haki back from the blade, and his arm swelled back to its normal size. Samehada chittered angrily, but Mihawk’s eyes flashed and Conqueror’s Haki rippled through the sword, and it seemed to shrink under it. Mihawk’s eyes slid closed, and he concentrated. Slowly, carefully, Haki began to flow out of him once more, passing through the blade.

One at a time, each of Samehada’s blueish grey spikes was overtaken by pitch black, as Mihawk’s Haki spread a deep, dark sheen across the blade’s surface. Within moments, the entirety of the sword had become dyed jet black. Mihawk opened his eyes, and regarded it carefully.

“Well, now… this will come in handy.”

——————————————————————————

[BEGIN REPORT #5-24-13-1-3-8-9-14-1]

_{User: XXXXXX
Date: 3/19/25
Time: 3:25 PM
All occurrences during the lapse period have now been documented. Files have been processed and sent to XXXXXXXXXXXX for review.}

[END REPORT #5-24-13-1-3-8-9-14-1]

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