Chapter 288
The killing intent Zaraki made no effort to conceal had become almost tangible.
It swept across the harbor like ice water, leaving the stagnant air with a faint metallic edge.
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro's fingers tightened instinctively around his sword hilt, and for the first time, something stirred behind those withered eyes.
Unease.
The hunter had suddenly realized that the thing it had been stalking was staring back.
Sengoku's face paled, not from fear but from a mixture of anger, alarm, and sheer disbelief.
He stepped forward sharply and leaned close enough that his voice was almost directly beside Zaraki's ear.
"Have you lost your mind, Zaraki?!"
Every word came through clenched teeth.
"This isn't Crocodile in Alabasta, and it isn't that damned flamingo in Dressrosa. This is a mission the Five Elders forced through immediately after Kalles and Totto Land."
His voice dropped even lower.
"You know exactly what that probably means. They're barely even trying to make it look harmless. You seriously can't see that?"
"Of course I can."
Zaraki did not even turn around.
He flicked one finger lightly against the hard corner of the revised Reverie directive.
Of course he understood what was happening.
After everything those old bastards had already tried, accepting this assignment as nothing more than a diplomatic errand would require a level of stupidity he simply did not possess.
They were taking advantage of Fish-Man Island's complicated political position and the turmoil surrounding the proposed abolition of the Warlord system to send him somewhere isolated, ten thousand meters beneath the sea, on a mission they themselves had forced through.
If something happened to him there, the World Government would have no shortage of convenient explanations.
Fish-men, pirates, some enemy lurking in the depths—anyone except themselves.
But what exactly was he supposed to do instead?
Refuse?
His resignation had been submitted, but the process was not legally complete.
Nusjuro had made the threat perfectly clear: if Zaraki rejected the final lawful order while he was still formally serving as a Marine, the Government could deny him a clean resignation and mark him as a deserter instead.
That sounded exhausting.
Zaraki finally turned his head.
A broad grin exposed his teeth, and the excitement behind it made Sengoku's stomach tighten.
"Besides, Fleet Admiral..."
His eyes gleamed.
"If they went through all this trouble to put something dangerous in front of me, why would I turn around before I see what it is?"
Sengoku stared at him.
"You just fought Charlotte Linlin and Mihawk back-to-back!"
"I know."
"That is not an argument in your favor!"
The officers who had spent the entire confrontation holding their breath suddenly wore remarkably similar expressions.
Even Garp, who had been furious enough moments earlier to look ready to punch an Elder through a wall, felt the corner of his mouth twitch.
The brat really was an honest-to-God battle lunatic.
Sengoku pressed a hand hard against his aching forehead.
Decades of patience and self-control were going to be destroyed by Garp and every monster somehow connected to him.
"Hmph."
Nusjuro forced down the unease Zaraki had stirred in him and restored his usual air of superiority.
"Reckless fool. If you're so eager to test your luck, then I suggest you leave quickly."
His expression hardened.
"The accelerated Reverie will not wait for you."
"Relax, old man."
Zaraki casually stuffed the directive inside his coat and turned away without bothering to look at Nusjuro again.
"When I get back from Fish-Man Island..."
He raised one hand in a lazy wave.
"...I'll bring you a souvenir."
Nusjuro's face darkened at being called old man, and for a moment, he looked genuinely tempted to draw the sword at his side.
Zaraki was already walking away.
The coat bearing the word Justice snapped violently in the sea wind as he headed toward the berth assigned to the Oni Slayer, his back straight and his stride unhurried.
"Zaraki!"
Sengoku hurried after him and fell into step at his side, his voice leaving no room for humor.
"I don't care what exactly you're planning, but this mission is different. The Five Elders almost certainly have another layer to their plan that we haven't discovered."
His expression remained severe.
"When you reach Fish-Man Island, be careful. And for once in your life, don't rush headfirst into whatever looks dangerous."
Garp caught up on Zaraki's other side.
The old man's wrinkled face had tightened considerably.
"Brat, don't try acting tough. If something smells wrong, call me immediately."
He jabbed a thumb toward himself.
"I don't give a damn if you're ten thousand meters under the sea. This old man will find a way down there and drag you back out."
Zaraki's pace slowed.
He looked from Sengoku to Garp.
Neither of them made any attempt to hide their concern.
For a moment, something shifted in his chest.
'What a pain.'
This kind of feeling really was troublesome.
He did not dislike it, though.
"Relax."
Zaraki started walking again.
The bloodthirsty curve of his smile gradually faded, leaving behind the same unwavering confidence.
"I'm not going there to die."
He tapped the directive beneath his coat.
"I'm going to collect a gift."
"If the Five Elders went through all this trouble preparing something for me..."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"...it'd be rude not to accept it properly."
Then, as though something had only just occurred to him, his tone abruptly became casual.
"Oh, right."
Sengoku and Garp both looked over.
"There's one more thing."
"What?"
Zaraki glanced between their confused faces.
"Don't let that bald bastard use this mission as an excuse to pretend my resignation disappeared."
Sengoku's eye twitched.
Garp barked out a laugh.
Zaraki kept walking toward the waiting ship without another word.
...
Cold sea wind carried salty spray through the gaps in the Oni Slayer's deck.
Zaraki did not look back.
He could practically feel Sengoku and Garp staring holes into him as they followed him aboard for one final exchange before departure, but he ignored them and headed toward the reclining chair beside the rail.
His usual seat.
The wood gleamed warmly beneath the sunlight, its surface polished smooth from regular use. Zaraki dropped into it, and the chair answered with a familiar creak.
For the first time in what felt like forever, some of the tension running through his body finally eased.
"Hey, brat!"
Garp's booming voice followed him across the deck, accompanied by heavy footsteps that struck the boards like drums.
"You're really still planning to resign after this?"
Zaraki reached into his coat and pulled out an unopened bottle of shochu.
With a practiced flick of his thumb, he popped the stopper free, and the sharp smell of alcohol immediately cut through the lingering scent of gunpowder.
He tilted his head back and took a long drink, letting the liquor burn pleasantly down his throat before lowering the bottle.
"Yeah."
The casual answer seemed to irritate Sengoku more than a lengthy argument would have.
"You could at least pretend this is a difficult decision."
"It isn't."
Zaraki rested the half-empty bottle on the arm of the chair.
"Sitting around on indefinite medical leave while Mary Geoise decides whether I'm allowed to breathe sounds worse than leaving."
Sengoku stared at him for a long moment before the anger in his expression gave way to something heavier.
"I'm still sending a team of elite medics with you. And two escort warships."
Zaraki glanced over.
Sengoku's expression remained severe.
"Gion and Yamakaji will command the escorts as far as the Sabaody descent zone. Once you begin the dive, both of them will transfer to the coated Oni Slayer and accompany you to Fish-Man Island. The surface escorts will turn back."
"Overprotective."
"Necessary."
"Same thing."
"Not remotely."
Garp snorted.
"Let him complain. At least this way there'll be two competent people nearby when he decides to do something stupid."
Zaraki took another drink.
"As long as nobody deliberately sticks their neck under my sword, I probably won't bother doing anything."
His gaze drifted toward the sea.
"Moving house is tiring enough already."
By moving house, of course, he meant deciding where he intended to live once he was no longer a Marine.
Sengoku released another long sigh.
A whistle sounded from the pier.
It was time to leave.
Sengoku and Garp headed back down the gangway before the lines were cast off.
Moments later, the warship's engines roared to life, its massive propulsion system churning the sea into white foam as the Oni Slayer pulled away from Marineford and left two long wakes stretching behind it.
Garp remained at the harbor, watching the ship grow smaller in the distance.
His fist tightened unconsciously.
"That brat..."
There was pride in his eyes as he muttered to himself.
"He's more of a monster than we ever were."
The pride was unmistakable.
So was the concern beneath it.