Chapter 121: Fujitora's Crazy Plan
Before the Donquixote Family Palace
The palace loomed before them like a monument to excess. White marble and gold filigree climbed toward the sky in spiraling towers and sweeping terraces, every surface gleaming with the kind of wealth that could only be accumulated through decades of exploitation. At its base, a massive elevator shaft rose through the plateau's sheer cliff face—the only apparent entrance to the royal stronghold above.
Luffy stared up at it with the expression of a man who had already decided to break something.
"So we just need to get up there."
"The elevator requires a pass." The Tontatta in Zoro's arms—a small, trembling creature named Wicca who had somehow ended up as their guide—pointed toward the security checkpoint at the elevator's base. "Without authorization, the guards won't let anyone through."
"Simple." Zoro's hand moved to Shusui's hilt. "Cut down the elevator. Walk in."
"THAT'S THE STUPIDEST PLAN I'VE EVER HEARD!" Wicca's tiny fists beat against Zoro's chest with absolutely zero effect. "The elevator shaft is reinforced with Seastone lattice! Even if you managed to cut through, the whole thing would collapse and you'd fall three hundred meters to your death!"
"I agree with the little one!" Kin'emon nodded vigorously. "Charging in without a strategy would be most unwise. We must exercise caution!"
"Fine." Luffy cracked his knuckles. "Beat up the guards. Take the pass. Ride the elevator."
"THAT'S EVEN WORSE!"
Luffy was already scanning the checkpoint, estimating how many guards he would need to punch and in what order, when his gaze caught on an approaching figure. A woman on a toy wooden horse—a masked figure cloaked in fabric that fluttered despite the absence of wind.
"Someone's coming!" Kin'emon's hand flew to his sword. "We've been discovered! Quick, Luffy-dono, we must—"
The woman pulled back her hood.
"Straw Hat."
"Yep, that's me."
Kin'emon's jaw dropped. "Luffy-dono! You can't just—!"
Zoro's single eye narrowed. The woman's face stirred something in his memory—a flash of a crowded street, a dancing girl, a cook with hearts in his eyes. "Wait. You're the woman who took that dead cook away."
"Cook?" Luffy tilted his head. "You mean Sanji?"
"Right. The idiot ran off with her back in the city."
Before anyone could elaborate, Wicca let out a strangled gasp. Her tiny body went rigid in Zoro's arms. "You—you're—!"
"Princess Viola!"
Violet dismounted from the wooden horse, her expression softening as she approached the trembling Tontatta. "Wicca. It's been a long time."
"You remember me!"
"Of course." Violet touched a finger to the corner of her eye. "I possess the Giro-Giro Fruit. The power of clairvoyance. I've been watching your resistance movement for quite some time now."
She straightened, her brief warmth giving way to businesslike urgency.
"But there's no time for reunions." Her gaze swept across the three Straw Hats—a goldfish, a cat, and a frog, each costume more absurd than the last. "If you want to enter the palace, I can provide a pass."
"You have one?! Great!" Luffy's hand shot out expectantly.
"However." Violet's expression tightened. "I strongly advise against taking the elevator."
"Huh? Why?"
She gestured at their disguises. "These costumes... they draw exactly the wrong kind of attention. I have no idea how you made it this far without being stopped."
"AH! My deepest apologies!" Kin'emon bowed so low his frog hat nearly fell off. "The fault lies entirely with my disguise ability! I clearly have not yet perfected—"
"It's fine." Violet raised a hand. "I have another way. Come with me. I'm currently serving as Doflamingo's subordinate—I can escort you inside without raising suspicion."
"WHAT?! You work for Mingo?!" Luffy's fists came up.
"She's a double agent, Luffy-dono!" Wicca scrambled to explain. "Princess Viola only pretends to serve Doflamingo! She's been undermining him from within!"
"Oh." Luffy's fists dropped. "Okay then."
Kin'emon stroked his chin with newfound respect. "A hidden agent, enduring the enemy's company while secretly aiding the righteous cause. I see. You are... a female ninja."
"Female ninja?"
Luffy's head tilted. His mind conjured an image—dark hair pulled back, crimson eyes, a black cloak with red clouds.
"I feel like that outfit isn't as cool as Itachi's, though."
"WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?!" Zoro's sword hilt connected with the back of Luffy's head.
Dressrosa — The Flower Field
The sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. Sunflowers nodded in the afternoon breeze, their heavy heads swaying in waves of gold and green. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out—a single note, clear and mournful, before fading into silence.
Itachi listened.
Fujitora's plan was audacious. Reckless. The kind of scheme that would have been dismissed as insanity in any formal war council.
It was also, Itachi had to admit, exactly the kind of plan that might actually work.
"I understand."
He rose from his seated position, his Sharingan still fixed on the blind Admiral with an expression that had shifted—almost imperceptibly—from cold assessment to something approaching measured respect.
"However. I feel compelled to warn you." He paused, choosing his words with the precision of a surgeon selecting a scalpel. "This plan poses no threat to the Straw Hat Pirates. It resolves the immediate problem of your Marine forces. And it aligns with our current objectives."
"Yet."
His voice hardened.
"For you personally, this is extraordinarily dangerous. I am not familiar with the Navy's internal reward and punishment protocols. But from where I stand..." His crimson eyes narrowed. "Even if this plan succeeds perfectly—even if every objective is achieved exactly as you envision—the best outcome for you personally may be losing your position."
"Losing the Admiral's seat?"
Fujitora faced him. Though those scarred eyes saw nothing, Itachi could feel the weight of the Admiral's attention—a pressure that had nothing to do with gravity and everything to do with conviction.
"This old man does not care about such things. Not in the slightest."
He spread his scarred hands.
"If my plan succeeds, the Warlord system will be exposed for the cancer it truly is. The World Government will have no choice but to abolish it. And the Navy—" His voice rose, passion bleeding through his usual calm. "—the Navy will finally be free to redirect its resources. To focus on the truly vicious pirates. To pursue real justice instead of propping up legalized criminals!"
"Abolishing the Warlord system. Restructuring the Navy's priorities. Pinning all your hopes on the exposure of a single nation's darkness."
Itachi's voice was quiet. Not mocking. Not dismissive. Simply... acknowledging the scale of what Fujitora proposed.
"In a world ruled by pirates and the governments that accommodate them... this is a truly crazy plan."
"Crazy?" Fujitora rose to his feet, his staff-sword tapping against the soft earth. A smile—genuine, almost childlike in its simple pleasure—spread across his weathered features. "Hehehe. Perhaps it is inappropriate for a man of my age and station to be described in such terms."
He inclined his head toward Itachi.
"So, Itachi-san. Will you accept this plan?"
"There is no reason to refuse." Itachi's response was immediate. "This requires no consultation with my captain. It brings no harm to my crew. And it eliminates a significant tactical obstacle."
He paused.
"But I find myself... concerned."
"Concerned?" Fujitora's brow furrowed. "About what aspect of the plan?"
"About whether your head will remain attached to your shoulders when this is over."
The Admiral went very still.
"Will my earlier prediction be fulfilled so quickly, Fujitora?" Itachi's voice carried no mockery—only the quiet, serious weight of someone who had seen good men destroyed by the systems they served. "Your kindness killing you. I warned you of this. I did not expect the warning to become relevant within the hour."
"If that is the case..." Fujitora's scarred face broke into a smile of genuine, incongruous pride. "Then that would be wonderful."
He turned away from Itachi, his blind eyes sweeping across the field of sunflowers as if he could see every petal, every stem, every speck of pollen drifting on the breeze.
"Look, Itachi-san. This flower field—it is truly beautiful. Though my eyes cannot perceive it, I can feel the beauty here. The life. The peace."
His voice dropped to something almost reverent.
"If my death can serve as fertilizer... so that in the years to come, such flower fields might bloom across the entire world..."
He nodded slowly, as if confirming something to himself.
"...then that is a fate I would welcome."
Itachi was silent for a long moment.
When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before. Stripped of its usual clinical detachment. Still calm—he could not be otherwise—but carrying something that might, in another life, have been called warmth.
"I will assist you. As much as I am able."
He turned away.
Chakra gathered at the soles of his feet. With a single, fluid motion, he stepped onto the crown of the nearest sunflower and launched himself across the field. The blooms barely bent beneath his passage—a dark figure racing across a sea of gold, each step precise, each movement economical, until he was nothing but a shadow on the horizon.
Fujitora listened to the whisper of displaced air fade into silence.
"You left so quickly."
He bent down, his scarred hands searching through the grass with the careful patience of the blind. After a moment, his fingers closed around the wooden bowl he had brought for Itachi—the noodles inside now cold, the broth congealed.
"He didn't even try the soba."
A dry, rasping chuckle escaped his lips.
"No matter. When we meet again, I will prepare a fresh serving. Something worthy of a man who speaks the truth even to his enemies."
He gathered the bowl in one hand and his staff-sword in the other. With slow, deliberate steps, he began walking through the flower field in the opposite direction from Itachi's departure.
Behind him, abandoned on the grass, his Den Den Mushi buzzed with increasing urgency.
Buru buru buru. Buru buru buru. Buru buru—
Fujitora did not turn back.
He knew, without needing to see, who was calling. He could feel the volcanic rage radiating through the connection like heat from an open furnace. Fleet Admiral Sakazuki—Akainu—was not a patient man at the best of times. And these were very far from the best of times.
Buru buru buru—click.
The snail went silent as the call timed out.
Then immediately began ringing again.
Fujitora kept walking.
Marine Headquarters — Marineford
"HAS THAT MAN LOST HIS MIND?!"
Sakazuki's fist slammed against his desk, molten magma dripping from his knuckles and searing gouges into the wood. The window behind him—the same window that had been replaced three times this month alone—shattered from the shockwave of his fury.
"First he goes dark for HOURS! No reports! No updates! Not a single word about the situation in Dressrosa! And now—NOW—he's actively ignoring direct calls from Headquarters!"
"Marshal, please—" The Chief of Staff's voice trembled as he clutched an armful of reports that no one had been brave enough to deliver.
"WHAT?!"
"We—we're still trying to establish contact with Admiral Fujitora. His subordinates report that he left the palace approximately twenty minutes ago. Alone. Without escort. They don't know where he went or—"
"USELESS!"
Sakazuki's magma-coated fist punched through the already-shattered window frame, spraying molten rock across the Marineford courtyard below. Officers scattered like startled birds.
"That blind fool has been on that island for less than a day! Less than a DAY! And already he's gone completely off-mission! No communication! No coordination! Nothing!"
He spun toward the Chief of Staff, his scarred face twisted with volcanic fury.
"Do you know what's happening in Dressrosa right now?! The Straw Hats are running rampant! Doflamingo's operation is being torn apart! And my ADMIRAL—"
His voice dropped to a murderous growl.
"—is eating NOODLES in a FLOWER FIELD!"
The Chief of Staff had no response to this. There was, in his experience, no response that would not result in immediate immolation.
"Find him." Sakazuki's voice had gone dangerously quiet. "Find that blind bastard and remind him that he wears the Marine coat. Remind him that he answers to ME."
"And if he refuses to answer...?"
Sakazuki's magma fist clenched.
"Then remind him what happens to Marines who forget their place."
The Flower Field — Moments Later
Fujitora paused at the edge of the field.
Behind him, the Den Den Mushi's ringing had finally stopped—not because the caller had given up, but because the snail, exhausted by hours of unanswered calls, had simply fallen asleep. Its tiny eyes were closed. Its breathing was slow and peaceful.
The Admiral smiled.
"Even the snails know when to rest."
He adjusted his grip on his staff-sword and continued walking. The sun was setting now, painting the world in shades of dying gold. Soon it would be dark. Soon the real battle would begin.
And when it ended—one way or another—the world would know the truth about Dressrosa.
"Fertilizer," Fujitora murmured to himself, his scarred face peaceful. "What a lovely thought."
(End of Chapter)
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