Chapter 144: CP0 Arrest Warrant — Target: Fujitora
The Navy Encampment — Dressrosa
The camp was nearly empty now. Most of the Marines had been deployed to the harbor, to the ruined districts, to the dozens of tasks required to stabilize a kingdom that had nearly collapsed. Only a skeleton crew remained at the command post—and Staff Officer Sicily, who had been waiting with a Den Den Mushi clutched in his trembling hands.
Fujitora sensed him before he spoke. The man's heartbeat was irregular. His breathing was shallow.
"Sir." Sicily's voice was steady, but there was something beneath it. Something carefully controlled. "Inspector Sengoku and Vice Admiral Tsuru have already departed with the prisoner transfer. I'm afraid... I'm afraid you'll have to take this call yourself."
He swallowed.
"It's specifically for you, sir."
Fujitora set down his staff-sword. He had barely sat down since the battle ended. His wounds from the fight with Itachi had reopened twice. His blind eyes burned with exhaustion.
"Who is it?"
The snail's features shifted into a snarl of barely contained volcanic fury.
"Is that insubordinate bastard Smile back yet?"
"...Marshal Sakazuki."
"DON'T CALL ME MARSHAL! YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT!"
The snail's face contorted so violently that Sicily took a step backward. Akainu's voice thundered through the receiver with enough force to rattle the tent poles.
"Where are the Straw Hats?! Did you apprehend them?!"
Fujitora raised his head toward the distant sea. He could not see the ships. But he could feel them—dozens of vessels, thousands of souls, sailing away from Dressrosa with the wind at their backs and freedom ahead.
"By now... they should be at sea."
"So they escaped."
"Yes."
"YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO ADMIT IT IN THAT TONE OF VOICE?!"
The snail's teeth ground together with the sound of grinding stone.
"You resolved the Dressrosa incident—fine. But then you KNEEL to the citizens and APOLOGIZE on behalf of the Government?! And after ALL of that, you let the Straw Hat gang slip away right under your nose?! You're a DISGRACE to the Navy! Your actions have brought SHAME upon every Marine who wears this uniform!"
"SHAME?!"
Fujitora's roar silenced the snail.
"WHAT SHAME DOES THE NAVY HAVE LEFT TO PROTECT?! Do you have any idea what Doflamingo did to this country?! For TEN YEARS he enslaved these people! For TEN YEARS he committed atrocities that would make the demons of the underworld blush! And the Navy—OUR Navy—did NOTHING!"
His scarred face was wet with fury.
"For fear of losing face, the Government sanctioned that monster! Gave him a Warlord's title! Let him operate in the shadows while we looked the other way! THAT is the true shame! THAT is the disgrace—not kneeling to the people we failed!"
"YOU BASTARD!!!"
At Marine Headquarters, Akainu hurled the Den Den Mushi against the wall. The snail bounced off the stonework with a distressed squeak. Staff officers scrambled—some diving to catch the snail before it shattered, others trying to physically restrain their Fleet Admiral.
"Marshal Sakazuki! Please, your blood pressure—!"
"He's always been blunt, sir, he doesn't mean—!"
"GET OFF ME!"
Akainu shook off the officers like a bear shedding water. His magma fist slammed against his desk, leaving a smoldering crater in the wood.
"Send word to EVERY Marine base! EVERY branch! That man is forbidden from setting foot on ANY naval installation! He is not permitted to land on ANY island with a Marine presence until he brings me the Straw Hats' heads!"
His voice dropped to a deadly growl.
"And tell him to get out of Dressrosa. IMMEDIATELY. If he's still on that island by sundown, I'll have him court-martialed for insubordination!"
The door to the office swung open.
"My, my. How terrifying, Sakazuki."
Kizaru strolled into the room with his usual languid disinterest, his sunglasses glinting under the fluorescent lights. In one hand, he held a document—an official communiqué marked with the highest-level seals of the World Government.
"What do you want, Borsalino?" Akainu's eyes fixed on the paper. Something in Kizaru's posture—something in the way he was holding that document—made the Fleet Admiral's magma blood run fractionally colder.
"Things seem to be developing... beyond anyone's control."
Kizaru handed over the order.
Akainu read it. Once. Twice. His scarred face went through several expressions in rapid succession—confusion, disbelief, and finally, a cold, simmering fury that had nothing to do with Fujitora.
The document read:
Authorization of Supreme Authority — CP0 Arrest Warrant
Target: Fujitora "Smile"
Dressrosa — The Navy Encampment
The Seastone bullets hit Fujitora before he could react.
Three shots. Three impacts. The specially crafted projectiles—each one worth more than a battleship, each one reserved for only the most dangerous Devil Fruit users in the world—slammed into the Admiral's back with the force of sledgehammers. Fujitora's gravity powers evaporated instantly. His body, so accustomed to the subtle dance of his own weight manipulation, suddenly felt like it was made of lead.
"WHAT—?!"
Staff Officer Sicily stepped forward, a smoking pistol in one hand and a Seastone dagger pressed against Fujitora's throat. His expression was calm. Professional. The expression of a man doing a job he had been trained to do.
"I'm aware that Admiral Smile possesses exceptional Kenbunshoku Haki. So even though I am your adjutant... I had to choose a moment when your focus was completely elsewhere."
He pressed the blade closer.
"The Seastone bullets are a special issue. Even the World Government possesses only a limited quantity. But for someone of your caliber..." His voice was almost apologetic. "Protocol demands three."
Three white-clad figures emerged from the shadows of the command tent. CP0 agents. Their masks gleamed in the dim light. One of them held a document bearing the Five Elders' seal.
"Fujitora Smile. Pursuant to our investigation, you are suspected of collusion with the Straw Hat Pirates during the Dressrosa incident. You are additionally suspected of involvement in the deaths of two CP0 agents whose bodies were discovered in Acacia's ruins."
The agent's voice was utterly devoid of emotion.
"I'm afraid you'll have to come with us, Admiral."
Sicily produced a pair of Seastone handcuffs—the same kind used to restrain Doflamingo—and locked them around Fujitora's wrists. "Just to be thorough. You understand."
"I truly didn't expect this." Fujitora's initial shock was fading, replaced by something colder. More analytical. He finally understood the encrypted messages. The warnings Sengoku had tapped against his shoulder. The two sets of three letters that had been passed to him through whispers and codes.
CP0.
"Is it truly necessary to arrest this old man based on mere suspicion?"
Sicily smiled. It was not the warm, flustered smile of the adjutant who had apologized to Akainu on Fujitora's behalf. It was the smile of a man who had been playing a role for two years and was finally allowed to drop the mask.
"Since I've served as your adjutant all this time... I'll tell you something."
He leaned close, his lips nearly brushing Fujitora's ear.
"That's not the reason."
He straightened and gestured to the agents. "Take him. Quickly."
"Yes, Captain Sicily."
The three agents moved to seize Fujitora. And then they stopped.
"What are you waiting for?!" Sicily hissed, his eyes darting toward the camp perimeter. The remaining Marines had been dismissed. No one would interrupt. "Get him out of here before—"
He turned.
Sengoku was sitting on a supply crate directly behind them. A bowl of Fujitora's mustard wheat noodles was cradled in one hand. His expression was calm. Pleasant. The expression of a man enjoying a quiet meal.
But the pressure in the air—the sheer, overwhelming weight of the Conqueror's Haki radiating from the former Fleet Admiral's relaxed form—was enough to make the CP0 agents' knees buckle.
"Smile's noodles really are excellent." Sengoku took a long, deliberate slurp. "I'm going to miss these when I leave."
His eyes—those ancient, knowing eyes that had seen the rise and fall of the Great Pirate Era—fixed on Sicily with a gaze that was no longer amused.
"I'm no longer Fleet Admiral. I have no authority to interfere with CP0 operations. I understand that perfectly."
He set down the bowl.
"But is this really how you want to handle things?"
The Yonta Maria — Banquet
"CHEERS!"
Luffy raised his wine glass high, clinking it against every cup within reach. The banquet had reached its peak. Meat piled on platters. Wine flowed in rivers. The seven captains mingled with the Straw Hats, their earlier tensions forgotten in the warmth of shared victory.
Zoro raised his own glass—and looked down to find his left-hand skewer completely stripped of meat. "Luffy. Where's my food?"
"Huh? Wha's wrong, Zoro?" Luffy's cheeks were bulging like a chipmunk's.
"THAT WAS MINE!"
"Sorry! It just felt easier to grab yours!" Luffy spat out a perfectly clean bone. "Shishishi!"
"You bastard..." Zoro drained his wine and reached for another bottle.
Robin watched the exchange with quiet laughter. Beside her, Itachi was clinking glasses with Law.
"Something on your mind, Law?"
"Mm." Law's eyes were distant—the eyes of a man who had carried a burden for thirteen years and was only now learning what it felt like to set it down. "After avenging Cora-san... the only thing left is to keep living. Really living."
He remembered the conversation with Sengoku. The tears the former Fleet Admiral had shed for a son who wasn't his by blood. The final words Corazon had spoken—words Law had carried like a talisman through every dark year since.
"Law... you're free."
"Yes." Law's voice was barely a whisper. "I'm free now."
He turned to Itachi, his expression shifting.
"Itachi-ya. I realize I've never asked. Where exactly do you come from?"
"Me?" A wry smile touched Itachi's lips. "I'm not from this world."
Law stared at him for a long moment. Then he snorted. "You've had too much to drink. Don't joke with me, Itachi-ya."
Itachi looked at Law. Behind his dark eyes, passages of another life flickered like candle flames. A village hidden in the leaves. A brother with eyes full of hatred. A clan that had to die so that thousands could live. A world where chakra flowed instead of Haki, where shinobi walked instead of pirates, where he had died with a smile on his face and woke up on a ship full of strangers.
He made a decision.
"Find a time. When everyone is together." His voice was quiet. Certain. "I'll tell you all about my past."
"I'll hold you to that." Law raised his glass.
While the banquet swirled around them, Bartolomeo had been making increasingly elaborate proposals. He wanted the Straw Hats to visit his ship. He wanted to give them a tour. He wanted to show them the special accommodations he had prepared—the customized quarters, the commemorative banners, the tasteful shrine to Luffy that he had spent three months constructing.
"PLEASE, SENIOR LUFFY! IT WOULD MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME!"
"Sure, whatever." Luffy was already reaching for another plate of meat.
Bartolomeo collapsed in a paroxysm of joy.
(End of Chapter)
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