Chapter 118: Communication with Doflamingo
Outside the Toy House — Eastern District
The front entrance of the Toy House was a grotesque monument to false cheer. Painted in bright, childish colors, adorned with smiling figurines and candy-striped awnings, it looked like the sort of place where laughter should echo through every corridor. The reality, as Franky well knew, was a nightmare of forced labor and stolen lives hidden beneath the cheerful facade.
He had not bothered with stealth.
"Oi! You lot!"
The Donquixote Family grunts guarding the entrance spun toward the voice. What they saw stopped them cold.
A man in nothing but swimming briefs and an open Hawaiian shirt. A three-pronged metal chin that gleamed in the afternoon sun. Sunglasses. A pose that defied both modesty and common sense.
"Briefs... just briefs?!"
"Is that chin... some kind of weapon?"
"And the sunglasses—wait." One of the grunts snapped his fingers, recognition dawning. "That's definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent—"
"The Straw Hat gang's Iron Man Franky!"
The shout went up.
"SENOR! HEY, SENOR! THE STRAW HATS ARE HERE!"
Behind the line of panicking grunts, seated at a small table surrounded by adoring young women, a single figure remained utterly unperturbed. He was a large man, heavy-set, dressed in an infant's bib and a star-patterned diaper. A pacifier bobbed between his lips. In one hand, he held a half-eaten tomato.
Senor Pink. Officer of the Donquixote Family. User of the Swim-Swim Fruit.
He took another bite of his tomato, chewing slowly, deliberately, as if Franky's arrival was of no more consequence than a passing cloud.
"That pervert over there—what the hell is his deal?!" Franky jabbed an accusatory finger.
"YOU'RE THE ONE WITH THE NERVE TO CALL OTHERS PERVERTED?!" The grunts' collective indignation echoed off the Toy House walls.
"Whatever! Uncle Franky's coming through!"
He spread his arms wide. Mechanical panels slid open across his shoulders and forearms. The wind cannon began to charge, air pressure building with a rising whine—
The Underground Passage — Simultaneously
In the narrow tunnel carved by generations of Tontatta hands, Usopp crawled on his belly through the darkness. His knees ached. His palms were scraped raw. Every few meters, a root or a rock would jab him in some new and uncomfortable place.
"I can't feel my legs," he announced to no one in particular.
"You're doing wonderfully, Usolando." Robin's voice drifted from somewhere ahead, serene and utterly unruffled, as if she were taking a pleasant stroll rather than worming through a tunnel designed for creatures a fraction of her size.
"Easy for you to say! Your legs are probably fine!"
"They are, thank you."
Ahead of them, Leo and the Dongdong Tower Battle Squad scouts moved with the effortless speed of those who had traveled these passages since childhood. Twice, they had to double back to wait for their human companions to catch up.
"Usolando! Robinlando! Are you still there?!" Lan Lan's voice echoed through the tunnel.
"We're coming, we're coming," Usopp wheezed.
"Hey, Leo." He paused to catch his breath, pressing his forehead against the cool earth. "Speaking of which... how many enemies are we up against, exactly?"
Leo's tiny voice came back entirely too casual. "Oh, just the usual Donquixote Family forces! The factory's guarded by at least three hundred armed soldiers, plus whatever officers happen to be on duty. And Sugar, of course. And Trebol, probably. He's almost always near Sugar."
Usopp's breathing stopped entirely.
"Three... hundred...?"
"But don't worry! We have the element of surprise!" Leo's voice was bright with confidence. "And Franky's creating a diversion! And you're the great Usolando! Everything will be fine!"
"Robin," Usopp whispered.
"Yes, Usopp?"
"Remind me why I agreed to this mission."
"Because you're a brave warrior of the sea."
"I'M A LIAR! I LIED TO MYSELF!"
The Corrida Colosseum — Finals Stage
The announcer's voice reached a fever pitch.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! THE HERO OF THE COLOSSEUM HIMSELF TAKES THE STAGE!"
The crowd's roar was seismic.
"GENERAL DIAMANTE!!!"
He descended from the upper levels on a cascade of fluttering silk, his cape billowing behind him like a war banner. Everything about Diamante glittered—his armor, his smile, the blade at his hip. He was, in every sense, a performer. The colosseum was his stage, and every death that occurred upon its sands was a scene in the grand opera of his ego.
"WELCOME, MY BELOVED SUBJECTS! TO THE FINAL ACT OF TODAY'S GLORIOUS SPECTACLE!"
He spread his arms wide, drinking in the adulation.
On the arena floor, Sabo had already positioned himself between Rebecca and the Donquixote officer. The pink-haired gladiator stared at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
"Why... why are you protecting me? You're not Lucy. You're not even the same person who won Block C."
"The details don't matter right now." Sabo's voice was calm. Even. "I know enough about your situation. The Riku family. The fall of your kingdom. What Doflamingo did to your people."
Rebecca flinched at the names.
"This chaos—this tournament—it might actually be an opportunity for you. If you survive it."
"I don't understand."
"You don't have to. Just understand this: don't die today. Whatever happens in this fight, whatever Diamante tries... don't let him kill you."
Sabo's eyes flicked toward the colosseum's dome. Toward the shadow he knew was watching.
I made a promise. Sort of.
The Colosseum Dome
The wind whipped at Itachi's cloak as he crouched on the highest point of the arena's roof. Below him, the crowd's roar was muffled to a distant rumble, like thunder beyond the horizon.
He had been watching the perimeter.
The Marine presence outside the colosseum had thinned considerably since his infiltration. Where over two hundred soldiers had maintained the siege earlier, fewer than fifty remained. Most of the officers were gone—only a handful of ensigns and a single lieutenant remained to coordinate the token force. The tall, masked Vice Admiral who had commanded the encirclement earlier had vanished.
Fujitora pulled them back. Or Doflamingo redirected them.
Either way, it made Luffy's escape route considerably safer.
From the eastern district, the distant thunder of explosions rumbled across the city. Franky's diversion had begun in earnest. Through his Sharingan's telescopic vision, Itachi could see smoke rising from the Toy House district—the unmistakable signature of the cyborg's weaponry at full deployment.
Good. That should draw attention away from the underground approach.
His gaze swept the streets below, tracking movement patterns, identifying patrol routes—
And stopped.
Three figures were running through the back alleys of Acacia. They were dressed in costumes that could only be described as bizarre. A cat doll. A goldfish doll. A frog doll.
The cat doll was running in a perfectly straight line. Then, for no apparent reason, it veered sharply left and disappeared down a side alley.
The goldfish and frog kept running forward for another block before realizing their companion was gone. They stopped. Conferenced briefly. Then turned around and chased after the cat with the resigned body language of people who had done this many, many times before.
Three swords hung at the cat doll's waist.
Itachi exhaled—something that was not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh.
Luffy. Zoro. Kin'emon.
They're still wearing those absurd disguises.
He had found them. Or rather, they had found a way to be so conspicuous while attempting to hide that he couldn't possibly miss them.
"This simplifies things considerably."
From within his cloak, Itachi produced a Den Den Mushi—the same one he had liberated from the reference room clerk. The snail's eyes blinked up at him with placid confusion, its shell still bearing the colosseum's administrative markings.
He dialed.
The Palace of Dressrosa — Throne Room
Doflamingo sprawled across his throne like a predator at rest, one leg hooked over the armrest, his pink coat draped across the seat back. The Den Den Mushi on the side table had been ringing incessantly for the past ten minutes—reports from the colosseum, from the Toy House, from various points across the city where the Straw Hats' chaos was beginning to bloom.
He had answered none of them.
"Everything's proceeding exactly as anticipated." His grin stretched wide, his tongue tracing across his upper lip. "The Straw Hats are making noise. The Marines are confused. Diamante's handling the arena. Trebol's guarding Sugar."
"Fuffuffuffu."
"Everything is under my absolute—"
Buru buru buru. Buru buru—
The snail rang again.
This time, Doflamingo's brow twitched. The snail's face had shifted—not to the harried expression of an arena functionary or the urgent features of a factory guard, but to something else. Something blank. Unreadable.
His Observation Haki flared. The call was coming from the colosseum's administrative office. But the presence behind it...
"I already know what's happening at the arena. Why is this call being routed to me directly?"
Beside him, Fujitora sat cross-legged on the floor, a bowl of noodles balanced in one hand. The Admiral had made himself entirely at home since arriving at the palace—much to Doflamingo's visible irritation. He slurped a long strand of noodle with the unhurried contentment of a man who had decided that, whatever else happened today, he would at least enjoy his lunch.
"Perhaps it is a matter of genuine importance," Fujitora observed mildly.
Doflamingo's jaw tightened. He snatched the receiver.
"You're speaking to the king of this country. Make it quick."
A pause. The snail's expression shifted—something cold passing across its features.
"We met not long ago, Doflamingo."
The voice was calm. Measured. Utterly without fear.
"I meet too many people to keep track." Doflamingo's tone was dismissive, but his fingers had tightened fractionally on the receiver. "Who is this?"
"Straw Hat Pirates. Uchiha Itachi."
The throne room went very quiet.
Fujitora's chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth. The noodle dangling from them trembled slightly before he resumed eating.
Doflamingo's reaction was considerably less composed.
He surged to his feet. The receiver creaked in his grip. His head snapped toward Fujitora, veins bulging along his temple.
"FUJITORA!" The name tore from his throat like a curse. "WHAT DID YOU DO?! You told me he was MISSING!"
Fujitora slurped another noodle. "Indeed. The old man stated that his whereabouts were unknown. Did you perhaps misinterpret?"
"You said you defeated him!"
"I said no such thing." Fujitora's blind eyes remained placid, fixed on nothing. "You assumed, and I did not correct you. That is not the same as deception."
Doflamingo's teeth ground together with an audible rasp. His plan had been elegant in its simplicity. The moment Uchiha Itachi appeared, Fujitora would engage him. The Admiral would neutralize the six-hundred-million-berry threat. The Straw Hats' most dangerous fighter would be removed from the board before the real game even began.
That had been the plan.
"I must apologize." Fujitora set down his chopsticks and loosened his outer robe. Beneath it, bandages wrapped his torso from shoulder to hip, fresh spots of red seeping through the white linen. "If you are referring to the battle that took place on Green Bit... the old man lost."
Doflamingo stared at the bandages.
His eyebrow twitched.
His teeth ground harder.
"WHAT KIND OF JOKE IS THIS?!"
His foot caught Fujitora square in the face. The Admiral's head snapped back, noodles scattering across the throne room floor. Doflamingo loomed over him, his shadow swallowing the seated Marine.
"A pirate with a six hundred million berry bounty—you're telling me he DEFEATED a Navy Admiral?! WHAT DID YOUR FLEET ADMIRAL SEND YOU HERE FOR?! TO SIT AROUND EATING NOODLES?!"
He kicked again. Fujitora took the blow without resistance, his scarred face impassive.
"You threw the fight. You held back. You—"
"The old man fought with everything he had." Fujitora's voice remained calm. "And still lost. There is no shame in acknowledging strength when one encounters it."
Doflamingo's chest heaved. His fingers twitched with the urge to string the Admiral up by his own intestines.
Instead, he forced himself to stillness. To control.
He lifted the receiver.
"Uchiha Itachi." His voice had gone dangerously soft. "You called me directly. You must have something very important to say. Or perhaps..." His lips curled. "You're calling to beg for your captain's life? To negotiate for Trafalgar Law?"
A moment of silence.
Then, from the other end of the line:
"Fujitora. I knew you'd be there."
Doflamingo's eye twitched.
"Now. Put him on the line."
"What... did you just say?!" Veins pulsed along Doflamingo's forehead.
Fujitora looked up from the scattered remains of his lunch, his scarred face registering mild surprise. "You wish to speak with this old man?"
"I want Fujitora to answer the phone."
The voice was calm. Cold. Utterly unconcerned with Doflamingo's mounting fury.
"You think you can give ME orders?!" Doflamingo's voice had risen to a snarl. "In MY palace?! On MY island?!"
"Now. Put Fujitora on."
The repetition was somehow more insulting than any insult could have been. A simple statement. A complete dismissal of Doflamingo's authority.
Doflamingo raised the receiver—to smash it, to destroy the snail, to end this farce—
And his arm would not move.
Gravity pressed down on him. Gentle. Inexorable. Like a hand settling on his shoulder and reminding him of his place in the universe.
"This level of force..." Doflamingo's grin twisted into something ugly. "You're not holding back at all now, are you, Fujitora?"
"The old man is simply ensuring that the call proceeds appropriately." Fujitora rose from his seated position, crossing the throne room with slow, deliberate steps. "You may wish to consider that Uchiha Itachi has no reason to speak with you. The fact that he called at all suggests matters of significance."
He plucked the receiver from Doflamingo's gravity-pinned hand.
"Moshi moshi. This is the old man speaking."
He settled back onto the floor, retrieving his fallen chopsticks with his free hand.
"Uchiha Itachi. Is there something you wished to discuss with this old man?"
A pause.
"This is not the old man's personal Den Den Mushi, but you may speak freely."
End of Chapter
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