Chapter 280
The biting cold dragged Zaraki back to full awareness.
He coughed hard, and blood splattered across the ice beneath him.
For several seconds he remained on one knee, breathing through the pain in his abdomen while the frozen air slowed the bleeding around the dagger wound.
His entire body felt as though Mihawk had taken it apart and put it back together incorrectly.
Eventually Zaraki lifted his head.
Kalles was still there, though the central assessment ground had been devastated.
Broken ridges and shattered fortress walls rose beyond the sheet of ice Kuzan had spread across the shoreline, and dust still drifted from the enormous crater left by the final clash.
Not far away, another figure knelt on the ice.
Dracule Mihawk had driven Yoru into the frozen surface and was using the Supreme Grade Blade to keep himself upright.
His iconic hat was gone, his clothes were torn and soaked, and blood darkened one side of his body.
He looked terrible.
Zaraki probably looked worse.
That made his grin twitch upward.
He forced himself to stand.
Every movement pulled at the hole in his abdomen and the half-healed shoulder Linlin had injured, but he used Nozarashi like a support and started walking toward Mihawk.
The chipped blade scraped softly across the ice behind him.
By the time Zaraki stopped in front of him, Mihawk had already raised his head.
His hawk-like eyes no longer carried the detached superiority they had held at the beginning of the duel.
Exhaustion had stripped that away, leaving only clear-eyed acceptance.
"I lost."
Mihawk's voice was rough, but the words themselves were steady.
Zaraki remained silent for several breaths.
Then he looked down at Yoru.
"Your sword is strong."
There was no politeness in the statement and no attempt to comfort him. Zaraki simply meant it.
A faint smile appeared on Mihawk's face.
"But yours finally became yours."
His eyes lifted to Zaraki again.
"On Kuraigana, you were a monster swinging a blade."
Mihawk coughed, and a thin line of blood escaped the corner of his mouth.
"Today... you became a swordsman before the fight ended."
Zaraki considered that.
Then he inclined his head once.
That was enough.
He turned away and began walking across the ice, dragging his battered body toward the approaching Marine ships.
Behind him, Mihawk watched for several seconds.
Then the strength holding him upright finally disappeared.
His hand slipped from Yoru.
He collapsed onto the ice and lost consciousness.
...
"WE GOT IT!"
A photographer on Morgans' vessel nearly fell over his own equipment.
"PRESIDENT! WE GOT THE SHOT!"
Morgans snatched the telescope from another assistant.
Through the lens, one figure was still walking.
The other lay motionless behind him.
For several seconds, Morgans forgot to speak.
Then every feather on his body stood on end.
"Broadcast line!"
An assistant shoved a standard transmission Den Den Mushi toward him.
Morgans seized the receiver.
"EXTRA! EXTRA!"
His voice raced across the network already carrying live reports from Kalles.
"WORLD ECONOMIC NEWS PAPER REPORTING FROM THE FRONT LINES!"
"THE DUEL BETWEEN DRACULE MIHAWK AND WAR DEMON ZARAKI HAS ENDED!"
His wings spread dramatically.
"HAWKEYE HAS CONCEDED DEFEAT!"
Morgans' voice climbed higher.
"AND TODAY, A NEW NAME STANDS AT THE SUMMIT OF THE WORLD'S SWORDSMEN!"
Then he screamed the declaration he had been waiting all day to make.
"THE NEW WORLD'S GREATEST SWORDSMAN IS—"
"**WAR DEMON ZARAKI!!**"
The announcement spread through the Grand Line and the Four Blues, racing into Marine bases, pirate territories, kingdoms, taverns, criminal strongholds, and every place where people had been following the battle.
For a moment, the world seemed to lose its voice.
...
On the Red Force, one of the crew's swordsmen stared toward Mihawk's motionless body.
"That's impossible..."
His fingers tightened around his sword hilt.
"That's Mihawk."
No one answered immediately.
Benn Beckman exhaled slowly.
"Hawkeye didn't lose because he suddenly became weaker."
His eyes remained on the frozen battlefield.
"The kid stopped repeating the same mistakes. Every exchange taught him something, and by the end Mihawk wasn't fighting the same swordsman he started with."
Shanks remained quiet for a long time.
His gaze moved from Mihawk to the distant figure of Zaraki walking away across the ice.
"Yeah."
He smiled faintly.
"That bastard learned fast."
Then the smile disappeared.
"Enough staring. Go get our old friend."
The Red-Haired Pirates moved immediately.
...
The Red Force began edging through the frozen shallows toward Mihawk.
Against the broad white field Kuzan had created, its deep crimson hull looked almost unnaturally bright.
Crew members were already preparing lines and a stretcher to retrieve their fallen friend.
Zaraki watched them for a moment before glancing back toward Mihawk. From this distance he could still make out the faint rise and fall of the swordsman's chest.
Still alive.
Good.
Zaraki let out a long breath.
It was over.
A shadow passed across the ice beside him.
The dog-headed Marine warship had finally forced its way through the broken floes, and a booming laugh rolled over the frozen field.
"BWAHAHAHA! Not bad, brat! You really pulled it off!"
Zaraki did not need to turn around.
He planted Nozarashi into the ice and leaned on it while Garp jumped down from the ship.
The old man landed beside him and immediately slammed a huge hand onto Zaraki's uninjured right shoulder.
Even there, the impact almost knocked him over.
"You really became the world's greatest swordsman! Bwahahaha! Sengoku's going to choke when he hears the papers screaming about this!"
"Old man..."
Zaraki's voice sounded like sandpaper.
"Ease up."
He grimaced as pain stabbed through his abdomen.
"I think you nearly opened another hole."
Garp blinked.
"Oh, right. You're injured."
His voice lowered by perhaps half a degree.
He looked at the blood soaking Zaraki's clothes.
"That little thing? You'll be fine! Eat some meat and sleep it off!"
Of course.
Garp's legendary medical doctrine.
Eat meat and stop complaining.
Zaraki lacked the energy to argue.
Besides, the pride radiating from the old man was obvious enough that even he could not mistake it.
But something else sat underneath it.
Garp's grin was too broad.
His shoulders were too tense.
Zaraki's golden eyes narrowed.
"You didn't come all the way out here just to congratulate me."
The grin froze for an instant.
Then Garp sighed.
"Still sharp, huh, brat?"
The forced cheer disappeared.
"Truth is, I came on Sengoku's behalf."
His expression turned serious.
"He has a proposal."
Several Marine officers had begun approaching across the ice by then.
At the front was the Oni Slayer's senior captain, cigar clenched between his teeth, accompanied by Gion and a pair of medics carrying emergency supplies.
Gion's face tightened the instant she saw the blood still running from Zaraki's abdomen.
"You are going to the hospital before you do anything else."
Zaraki ignored that for the moment.
"A proposal?"
The senior captain exhaled smoke.
"After what just happened, I assumed Headquarters would expand your authority. Maybe give you an independent command or finally formalize what half the sea already thinks you are."
Several nearby Marines nodded.
The mood among them was almost celebratory. Their special envoy had just defeated Dracule Mihawk in a duel watched across the world.
Even without an Admiral's seat being available, there were countless ways Headquarters could turn that victory into prestige.
Garp did not join them.
"No."
The single word killed the mood.
"Sengoku is placing Zaraki on indefinite medical leave from public operations."
Silence spread across the ice.
Zaraki stared at him.
Gion's expression changed as well, though unlike the others, she seemed to understand almost immediately what Sengoku was trying to do.
Garp continued before anyone could mistake the order for a dismissal.
"You're not retiring, and you're not being thrown out. Your Marine affiliation stays intact. Your authority stays on the books."
His jaw tightened.
"But Sengoku wants you out of public deployments for now."
"Why?"
The question came from one of the officers.
Garp looked toward the distant horizon.
"Because Mary Geoise is already discussing whether to strip that authority themselves."
The Five Elders.
The name did not need to be spoken aloud before everyone understood.
Garp's fists slowly clenched.
"The whole world watched what happened today. The old bastards were watching too."
His voice grew rougher.
"Zaraki keeps getting stronger, keeps ignoring the boxes they try to put him in, and they've already tried to solve the problem once through Kalles."
His eyes hardened.
"To people like them, something they can't control stops being an asset pretty damn quickly."
Zaraki said nothing.
"Sengoku and Tsuru know where that road goes. If the Elders strip your authority first and you refuse whatever comes next, they can call it insubordination. Push it far enough, and suddenly they've got an excuse to call you a rogue Marine."
Garp looked directly at him.
"So Sengoku moved first."
The old man's mouth twisted.
"Medical leave. Indefinite. Public operations suspended until Headquarters gets this mess under control."
A humorless breath escaped him.
"They're calling it protection."
"Protection from another Kalles."
The words settled heavily over the gathered Marines.
Zaraki looked down at the ice.
Protect him by putting him on a shelf.
Keep him inside the Marines, but out of sight.
It was still a cage.
A nicer cage than the Five Elders would have built, perhaps, and one Sengoku clearly intended as a shield rather than a punishment, but a cage all the same.
A bitter irritation began burning through Zaraki's exhaustion.
Before anyone could say more, a deep laugh rolled across the frozen sea.
"Gurararara..."
Heads turned.
The Moby Dick had never left the wider Kalles waters after helping force Kaido to withdraw.
Now the enormous white-whale vessel was pushing closer through the channels Kuzan had not frozen solid.
Whitebeard stood on the forward deck.
"Protection?"
His booming voice carried across the ice.
"Sengoku's gotten cautious in his old age."
Garp's expression darkened immediately.
"Newgate."
Whitebeard ignored him.
His gaze settled on Zaraki.
"The Government wants you hidden because they're afraid of what happens if you keep going."
He grinned beneath the great crescent mustache.
"So I'll give you another option."
Whitebeard spread his enormous arms.
"A flag."
"And the sea."
Then came the invitation.
"BECOME MY SON!"
The Whitebeard Pirates erupted behind him.
Whitebeard laughed louder.
"If you want a division of your own, I'll give you one! If you don't, then stand wherever the hell you like!"
His voice thundered over the frozen field.
"Carry my flag and nobody gets to put you on a shelf."
"You want to go somewhere?"
"GO!"
"You want to fight somebody?"
"THEN FIGHT!"
Whitebeard's grin widened.
"That's freedom!"
The invitation hung over the sea.
Behind Zaraki stood the Marines.
Ahead waited Whitebeard's flag and the open ocean.
Garp's face had gone dark enough to frighten half the officers around him, but for several seconds even he said nothing.
Everyone looked toward Zaraki and waited.