Chapter 283

Foosha village, East Blue

On the outskirts of the quiet village, by the base of the mountain range, the warm glow of a small campfire flickered in the night, casting long shadows across the rugged terrain. Three men sat around it in silence, the only sound coming from the crackling of the flames and the distant rustling of the wind through the trees.

Garp and Rayleigh, two legends in their own right, locked eyes across the fire, their shared history thick in the air. The tension between them simmered, like embers just waiting for the right spark to reignite the flames of their unfinished battle.

For two straight days, they had fought, their blows shaking the very ground beneath them. Naguri, who had sought refuge on Dawn Island under Garp's protection, was the one who had finally called for a ceasefire, fearing that a fight of such magnitude would soon attract the attention of the World Government.

Neither man had been willing to back down at first. But the thought of putting little Ace at risk had stilled both of their hands—at least for now.

"When are you leaving?" Garp growled, his voice rough, as he bit into a cracker, gnashing it between his teeth like it was the source of all his frustrations.

Rayleigh, ever calm, leaned back and gave a slow shrug, his gaze steady and unbothered. "Why would I leave?" he replied casually, his voice carrying a subtle challenge, as if daring Garp to push the issue.

Naguri, sitting off to the side, sighed heavily as he added another log to the fire, watching the flames spark and rise. He had seen enough battles to know when two titans were on the verge of clashing again, and right now, the air was thick with that dangerous tension.

He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or anxious that they'd chosen to talk instead of throwing fists tonight.

Rayleigh turned to Naguri, giving him a respectful nod. "I didn't expect to run into you here after all these years," he said with a hint of nostalgia. Naguri, after all, had once crossed paths with the Roger Pirates long ago.

He'd stood against them and lost miserably, offering his life in exchange for his crew's safety, earning the respect of even the Pirate King. More than that, Naguri had the rare and powerful gift of Supreme King Haki—just like Rayleigh and Garp.

Naguri nodded back but remained silent, his eyes flickering between the two men. He knew better than to get between them.

Garp, meanwhile, huffed in frustration, his brow furrowed deeply. "Do you want to go at it again, you bastard?!" he barked, his usual jovial tone long gone.

"Ace will have nothing to do with Roger's legacy! I swore on it!" His fists clenched tightly, his entire frame tense. The firelight glinted off his Marine cap, but even that symbol of authority couldn't mask the deep, personal stakes he felt in this moment.

Rayleigh's gaze softened just a little, though his smile remained as unshakable as ever. "That's not your call, Garp," he said, calmly swirling the rum that Naguri had handed him.

"Maybe Rouge-san has a say in the matter, but even then… Ace will have to make that choice himself." He took a slow sip, savoring the drink, his eyes never leaving Garp's. "You can't shield him forever."

The mention of Rouge seemed to strike a nerve in Garp, but Rayleigh's tone remained respectful. Despite their clashing ideals, Rayleigh understood the weight of Garp's burden. After all, Garp had promised Rouge to protect Ace—to raise the boy in secret, far from the shadow of the Pirate King's name.

But Garp knew deep down that there were some things even he couldn't control.

Garp's fists tightened around the empty tin of crackers, crushing it in his hand. "You think I don't know that?!" He spat, his voice thick with emotion.

"You think I don't know that Ace will make his own choices? But I'll be damned if I let him be dragged into the same hell Roger created!"

Rayleigh's expression didn't change. "I'm not here to cause trouble, Garp," he said, his voice softening. "I just want to see Ace. And to meet with Rouge-san. That's all." His eyes, though calm, were earnest, and there was a deeper plea behind them. Despite being Roger's right-hand man, Rayleigh had no intention of dragging Ace into Roger's footsteps, not unless Ace chose that path himself.

Garp growled low in his throat, the conflict tearing at him. He had taken absolute measures when it came to protecting Ace, raising him like his own, but Rayleigh wasn't wrong.

The child's destiny wasn't something he could keep locked away forever. He knew Rayleigh wasn't an enemy. But it didn't make it any easier to accept.

After a long silence, Garp slumped back against a rock, staring into the fire. "You better not stir up any trouble while you're here," he muttered, his tone begrudging. "If the World Government gets wind of this…"

Rayleigh smiled faintly, his voice gentle but firm. "I have no intention of dragging the World Government here. My fight isn't with them tonight."

Garp grumbled, but there was no bite left in his words. He knew this was as close to a truce as they would ever get.

Naguri, sensing the tension ease ever so slightly, gave a small, relieved smile. The fire crackled softly, the flames dancing in the quiet night, and for now, at least, the battle between these two giants was put on hold.

"One week... You can stay on this island for one week, and make damn sure you're not recognized," Garp grumbled, tossing the empty cracker wrapper into the fire. The flames quickly consumed it, crackling louder as if mirroring the tension between the two men.

"The last thing I want is the World Government starting to dig into things. Especially if they find out you and I are on the same island. That'll only raise questions no one needs answers to."

Rayleigh nodded, the flickering firelight dancing off his calm, weathered face. "Thank you, Garp," he said, his voice carrying genuine appreciation. He was pragmatic enough to know that Garp's concession was more than just a favor—it was a calculated risk.

"I'll make sure I'm discreet. Just… give Rouge-san a heads-up before I meet her, just in case." He added that last part carefully, knowing how delicate this situation was. The last thing either of them needed was to stir old wounds or create new ones.

Garp scratched the back of his head with an exaggerated sigh, clearly weighing the situation. "Yeah, yeah, I'll talk to her. Just don't pull any stunts while you're here, Rayleigh. Things are complicated enough without you adding to the mess."

Rayleigh chuckled softly, his silver hair glinting in the firelight. He respected Garp, and despite their differences, he knew the Marine hero was doing everything he could to keep Ace's existence a secret.

But Rayleigh had his own promise to keep—one made long ago to Roger.

The two men sat in silence for a moment, both staring into the fire, as if searching for answers in the dancing flames.

After a long pause, Garp broke the quiet, his tone shifting from gruff to genuinely curious. "I hear you've settled down in Dressrosa. Is that true?" He didn't look at Rayleigh as he asked, but his voice carried a weight of familiarity.

Though Garp hadn't kept in contact with Marine HQ since Zephyr's death, his loyal aide, Bogard, kept him informed about the movements of the people Garp cared about. The fact that Rayleigh, the Dark King himself, had supposedly set up in Dressrosa—territory under the Donquixote family—was big news. Even in his self-imposed isolation, Garp couldn't help but be curious.

Rayleigh gave a small, knowing smile, swirling the rum in his cup. "Word travels fast, doesn't it?" he mused, leaning back on his hands. "Yeah, I've been spending some time there. It's… comfortable enough." His tone was casual, but there was something deeper in his words. He wasn't the type to settle down without reason.

"Comfortable?" Garp raised an eyebrow, finally turning to look at Rayleigh. "That's what you call living under Doflamingo's thumb? The guy's a snake. An emperor in his own right. What's the Dark King doing in a place like that?"

Rayleigh's smile widened, but there was a glint in his eyes, a mix of amusement and caution. "I wouldn't say I'm under anyone's thumb, Garp. Dressrosa is a lively place. It's full of potential, if you know how to look, and especially your little protege leading everything, I should say it's quite lively down there." He took a sip of his rum, his gaze distant for a moment, as though he were thinking of something—or someone.

Garp grunted at the mention of Rosinante, and he seemed clearly unsatisfied with the vague answer. "You're playing a dangerous game, Rayleigh. That kind of place is a powder keg, and you're sitting right on top of it, and who knows what kind of surprise that brat has for you? It's not like him to let someone like you sit back and let the world pass by. That little rascal always has his own little plans regarding everything."

Rayleigh chuckled again, but this time there was a hint of sadness in his voice. "Maybe I'm just getting old, Garp. Or maybe I'm waiting for the right moment." His eyes flicked to the sky, as if searching for something beyond the stars.

"The world's shifting, and when it does… there are certain people I'll want to be there for. Dressrosa… is just one step in a bigger plan."

Garp eyed him carefully, his face hard to read. He knew Rayleigh was always ten steps ahead, a strategist who rarely showed his cards.

"You're still thinking about Roger, aren't you?" Garp said quietly, his voice softer now, more personal. It wasn't an accusation, but an observation—a truth both of them shared.

Rayleigh didn't respond right away. Instead, he took another long sip from his cup, savoring the rum's warmth. "Roger left more behind than just memories," he said finally, his voice low, almost wistful.

"You know that better than anyone, Garp. Ace... Rosinante... they're part of that legacy. Honestly, even I do not know what Roger's last message to young Rosinante was, but he must have told him something in Loguetown. And no matter what happens, I'll make sure they have the chance to live their own lives."

Garp's grip tightened on his knee. "I promised Rouge I'd protect Ace. Keep him away from that cursed legacy. That's the one thing I swore to her. He's not going to walk the same path as Roger, Rayleigh. As for that brat… You underestimate him, Rayleigh; he is my student. Do you think he needs your help…? That brat is growing at such a dangerous rate that he will soon surpass us."

Rayleigh gave a soft sigh, not arguing but not agreeing completely either. "Maybe, your student doesn't need my help," he said, his voice carrying the weight of years spent watching the tides of fate. "But in the case of Ace, it's not our decision to make, Garp. All we can do is give him the chance to choose."

The silence stretched between them again, filled only by the crackling of the fire and the distant howl of the wind. Naguri, watching from the sidelines, remained silent, knowing that this conversation was deeper than just words—it was the collision of ideals, forged over decades of battles, shared history, and broken promises.

Finally, Garp leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring hard into the fire. "One week, Rayleigh. No more. After that, I want you off this island, and I don't want to hear about any trouble." His voice was gruff, but there was an underlying tone of reluctant trust.

Rayleigh nodded, understanding the unspoken agreement between them. "One week," he repeated, smiling faintly. "I'll be gone before you know it."

But both men knew that in a world as unpredictable as theirs, even one week could change everything.

*****

Room of Authority, Mary Geoise

"None of the three new Shichibukai responded to the call... again." Elder Saturn's voice echoed in the chamber, the tapping of his staff against the marble floor growing more pronounced with each passing second.

It was a rhythm born of frustration, an attempt to distract himself from the boiling irritation within. He had known from the beginning that granting such powerful pirates free reign would lead to insubordination, but this was becoming untenable.

"Well, its something we expected, so there is no need pondering on the matter." Elder Warcury knew talking about it isn't going to help the current situation.

"Maybe we should have mobilized an additional Admiral," Elder Mars suggested, his tone calm but his furrowed brow betraying his unease. But all of them knew it was pointless to lament now. Rosinante's swift rise was a problem beyond the reach of simple hindsight.

The silence that followed Mars' comment was heavy, broken only by Saturn's continued rhythmic tapping. Reports from the West Blue piled up, each more concerning than the last, each more outlandish, bordering on the absurd. They all spoke of the same thing: Rosinante was becoming a force beyond their control.

"We underestimated him," Elder Ju Peter muttered as he paced, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His heavy footsteps resonated within the grand hall as he tried to piece together a coherent strategy. "Rosinante's growth… It's beyond anything we could have anticipated. From a rogue Marine to this? In barely a decade, he's surpassed Admiral-level strength."

"And all with just a handful of people," Elder Nusjuro chimed in, his voice low, as he casually ran his fingers over the edge of his gleaming katana. "Four assailants—that's all it took to bring Kano Country to its knees. What kind of monsters are the Donquixote brothers breeding?"

His words lingered in the air, casting a long shadow over the elders' thoughts. They had seen many powerful figures in their time, but Rosinante was a different breed. The audacity of his movements, the brazen nature of his attacks—each report painted the man as less a pirate, and more a statement of defiance against the World Government itself.

"We need to address the issue of the Donquixote brothers," Ju Peter said, his voice steely. He stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing. "We can't let them keep gaining this much momentum unchecked. They're becoming too dangerous to ignore. The siblings are making moves that we can no longer afford to dismiss."

"They've already compromised some of our more delicate operations," Nusjuro added, finally sheathing his katana with a sharp metallic hiss. "They caught the Cipher Pol agent who was sent to assassinate Queen Otohime. That alone sets us back months, if not years. And it wasn't a fluke—our spies can't even get a foothold in the Donquixote territory anymore. Every probe, every attempt we've made has been snuffed out."

Saturn's tapping stopped abruptly, his grip tightening on the staff as his expression darkened.

"We knew they'd be trouble, but not like this." His tone was cold, calculated. "Donquixote Rosinante and his brother have become a headache for us, true. But let's not pretend we didn't see this coming. The moment we let them back into the seas, slipping through our very fingers, we set the stage for this."

Elder Mars shifted in his seat, eyes glinting in the low light. "And now we must prepare for the inevitable backlash. We have to assume that the Donquixote siblings won't sit quietly after what's been happening. They will retaliate."

The room fell silent again, but this time the atmosphere was heavy with anticipation. Retaliation. The Donquixote brothers were not known for their patience. If there was one constant in their actions, it was that they always hit back harder, smarter. The question wasn't if, but when and where.

"We need to find out their next move before it happens," Ju Peter murmured, his eyes thoughtful as he resumed pacing. "Rosinante isn't rash. Everything he's done has been calculated. He's trying to make a statement, and it's clear that the statement isn't just about power—it's about sending a message to us. He wants us to know that the World Government can no longer control him."

Elder Saturn's face twisted into a scowl. "If that's the message he's sending, then we'll have to respond in kind. We can't allow a pirate—no, a Donquixote—to challenge the authority of the Elders. Not without a response that makes the world tremble."

"And we will," Nusjuro said, a dangerous edge in his voice as he looked over the others, his fingers lightly tracing the hilt of his blade. "But it won't be enough to simply react. We need to hit them where it hurts, before they strike back."

"That means gathering more information, more accurate intelligence," Mars added. "Rosinante is hiding something. His power grew too quickly for it to be natural. There's more to this than just him being a powerful fighter."

Ju Peter nodded. "Agreed. We need to dig deeper into his connections, his movements—anything that can give us leverage. And we need to act before it's too late."

"Leverage won't be enough," Saturn growled, his voice low but seething with menace. "We need to crush their ambitions. We'll focus on Rosinante, yes. But we cannot forget Doflamingo and the greater threat the Donquixotes represent to the balance we've maintained for centuries."

The other Elders nodded solemnly. Rosinante might be the immediate threat, but the implications of his rise extended far beyond just his individual power. His brother, Doflamingo, had embedded himself deep within the underworld, influencing politics, weapons trade, and even the flow of intelligence. Together, the brothers posed a threat not just to the Marine system, but to the very structure of the World Government itself.

"This isn't just about one island or one kingdom," Ju Peter concluded, his voice cold. "It's about the future. We can't allow the Donquixote brothers to shift the world's balance. If we do, everything we've built will start to unravel."

Saturn tapped his staff once more, signaling the end of the meeting. His voice was dark with finality.

Elder Warcury's eyes gleamed with a sinister thought as he leaned forward, his fingers lightly brushing over the scattered photographs on the table. The crackling tension in the room thickened as the rest of the elders watched him, waiting for his suggestion.

"Do we have full information on all the children that Rosinante has taken under his wing?" Warcury's voice was calm but carried an underlying malice.

"Children are easily manipulated, after all. A seed of doubt planted at the right moment can grow into something much bigger. Perhaps… the children are the key to gaining a foothold within their so-called empire."

The other elders exchanged looks, considering his words. There was truth in what he said. No matter how powerful Rosinante had become, he had weaknesses. His obsession with those he had gathered around him, especially the children, might be one of them.

Elder Saturn's gaze narrowed as he tapped the table with two fingers, a contemplative rhythm that filled the heavy silence. He carefully laid out the images they had gathered of the children—faces captured by spies, grainy shots from a distance, but recognizable enough.

One picture in particular caught his attention: Donquixote Robin, a young girl whose lineage was still shrouded in mystery.

"The girl," Saturn began slowly, picking up the photo of Robin and holding it to the light. "Is she truly another Donquixote? Didn't Homing only have two children when he left the Holy Land? So where did this third Donquixote come from?"

"It's suspicious," Elder Ju Peter muttered, his sharp eyes narrowing on the image. "She doesn't fit into the timeline. From what we know, Homing's wife passed away shortly after Homing left the Holy Land. Could this child have been born before then? Or is she just another orphan Rosinante adopted?"

Warcury scoffed, dismissing the uncertainty with a wave of his hand. "Does it really matter? Whether she's truly their sister or not, if we can exploit her—whether through coercion, manipulation, or even capturing her outright—she could become our leverage. She's the perfect candidate to start with."

Elder Nusjuro, seated quietly with his katana across his lap, broke his silence. "If she is indeed related by blood, that makes her all the more valuable. But even if she isn't, Rosinante's attachment to her could still make her useful. He's clearly protective of the children. It's likely they mean something to him."

Elder Saturn placed the photo of Robin down carefully, his expression darkening as his mind worked through the possibilities.

"Rosinante's strength comes from his focus and determination. But those same things can be turned into weaknesses. If we shake his foundation—if we make him question the safety of his so-called 'family'—he may become reckless. We need only find the right pressure points."

Ju Peter, pacing once more, added with a twisted smirk, "And if we can't manipulate the girl directly, there's always the option of using her as a hostage. Imagine the chaos we could sow by simply planting the idea in his mind that one of his own has turned against him."

"We've seen it before," Warcury said, his voice laced with cold pragmatism. "A few carefully placed whispers, a well-timed doubt, and a child can become a tool for us. They don't have the same resistance to our methods as adults. We could craft her into a weapon to use against them."

Nusjuro nodded, his fingers tapping the hilt of his katana lightly. "Rosinante is a fool if he thinks he can protect these children from the world. They live in a world of monsters. A child's mind can be bent, and with enough time, their loyalty can be swayed."

Elder Mars, who had been listening quietly until now, finally spoke up. "We need to be cautious. Rosinante may be watching them more closely than we think. But I agree with the plan. The girl is a good starting point. Whether she's a real Donquixote or not, her perceived value is enough to give us an advantage. If we can turn her—or, at the very least, make him think we can—he'll lose focus."

"Indeed," Saturn muttered darkly, the calculated cruelty in his voice making it clear he saw the children as nothing more than tools. "Even if she's not related by blood, if Rosinante and Doflamingo believe she is, that's all we need. His emotional attachment is the weakness we can exploit."

The room fell silent for a moment, each elder lost in thought as the plan began to take shape. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the table, illuminating the faces of the children, particularly Robin's innocent, wide-eyed face in the photograph.

"It's settled, then," Saturn said finally, the weight of his authority sealing the decision. "We will focus our efforts on Donquixote Robin. A child is easy to control, and even easier to break. We plant doubt, we exploit weaknesses, and when the time comes, we strike."

"Capture her if necessary," Warcury added, his tone indifferent to the gravity of the suggestion. "Or simply make Rosinante think we have. Either way, the message will be clear."

"And if it works, we may not need to waste resources in a direct confrontation," Ju Peter added with a malicious grin. "We let them tear themselves apart from the inside."

With the decision made, the elders leaned back in their chairs, their expressions cold and calculating. They had laid the groundwork for a ruthless manipulation, and none of them cared about the morality of targeting a child. In their eyes, the Donquixote family had become a threat too dangerous to ignore, and they would use any means necessary to neutralize it.

As they prepared to leave the chamber, Saturn's voice cut through the air one final time.

"Rosinante is a fool to believe he can protect them all. We will show him just how fragile his precious family really is."

"And send a message to the CP0 team to get Agana out of this mess safely; we can't afford to piss of Figarland at this juncture…" Elder Saturn added.

*****

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