The Taste of Freedom

The stolen Marine ship sailed slowly with the current, moving with the force of the sea that would carry them to their inevitable destination: Marineford. The atmosphere on the ship was strange. Although there was tension in the air about what awaited them, silence reigned on board, interrupted only by the gentle lapping of waves against the hull and the creaking of wood beneath their feet.

Jimbe was at the helm, his steady and experienced hands controlling the ship as if it were an extension of his own being. Beside him, Alaric, with his usual confident demeanor, sat slightly leaning against the nearby railing, gazing at the horizon. The sea breeze tousled his dark hair, and for the first time in a long while, the former vice-admiral felt truly at peace. He wore a simple white shirt, black pants, and boots—a more relaxed outfit than one would expect from a man heading to war.

Despite their limited familiarity, Jimbe and Alaric had found a mutual understanding. There was a tacit connection between them, as if they shared a similar wisdom about the world, justice, and freedom. Though their relationship was young, it felt as natural as the sea surrounding them.

Alaric, holding a small mirror—who knows where he got it?—glanced at himself, meticulously adjusting his cobra earrings. They had been a gift from Hancock, a constant symbol of his bond with her. A flicker of vanity crossed his face as he ran a hand through his dark hair, ensuring it was in place. He moved with an almost theatrical grace, as if each of his gestures was calculated to impress.

Jimbe, used to the seriousness of his battle companions, watched in silence, unable to suppress a small smile. Alaric's flamboyance was evident, but it also gave him a human touch that, in a way, made him likable. He was not the typical former Marine officer. While he found Alaric somewhat narcissistic, Jimbe felt a sense of respect for him.

"Hey, Jimbe," Alaric interrupted, still gazing into the mirror while delicately adjusting his earring, "tell me, what does it feel like to drink sake?"

Jimbe raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. It wasn't a conversation he expected to have at that moment.

"Sake, huh?" Jimbe replied in his deep tone. "Well, it depends on the type of sake, but generally it's… warm, relaxing. After a long day at sea, there's nothing better than a good drink."

Alaric stopped adjusting the earring, turning his head toward him with curiosity, but keeping the mirror raised as if he didn't want to lose sight of his reflection.

"Hmm, interesting." He nodded, as if processing the idea. "I've never tried sake."

Jimbe looked at him with a mix of surprise and compassion. "Never?"

Alaric shook his head. "No. My adoptive father, Sengoku, never allowed me. He always said I was too young, that I needed to focus on my training, my duty. Even when I became a vice-admiral, I didn't get the chance." A somewhat bitter smile crossed his face. "I was arrested when I was only seventeen, Jimbe."

The fish-man watched him in silence, recalling how young Alaric had been when he was sent to Impel Down. Just a child, forced to grow up in a nightmare prison. The sea had been his only companion, the cold metal of his cell his only reality. Jimbe felt a knot in his stomach thinking about it.

However, Alaric didn't seem downcast. He looked back at the mirror, this time letting out a light laugh. "You know, Jimbe, now that I have gained my freedom thanks to Mugiwara, I'm thinking of traveling the world." Alaric raised the mirror to the sky as if toasting to himself. "I want to experience new things, meet many people… After all, this world is vast."

Jimbe smiled at his companion's renewed energy. But what Alaric said next took him completely by surprise.

"And I'm also going to marry the most beautiful woman in the world," Alaric continued, with a mischievous grin that clearly referred to Boa Hancock.

Jimbe burst out laughing, his deep voice resonating in the air. "Wow, that's quite an ambitious goal, Alaric."

Alaric looked directly at him, with an intensity that was hard to ignore. "Jimbe, we've only known each other for a few days, but I like you. You're someone I can trust. What do you think about joining me on my journey when all this is over?"

Jimbe maintained his smile but gently shook his head. "I appreciate that, Alaric, truly, but after all this, I have my own matters to attend to. My loyalty lies with Whitebeard, and I have commitments on Fish-Man Island."

Alaric nodded, seemingly unoffended by the response. "I figured as much." He turned back to the horizon, this time setting the mirror aside. "Well, you'll always have a place on my ship if you change your mind."

As they conversed, things on the other side of the ship were far less tranquil. Luffy, Buggy, and a group of prisoners were gathered in a circle, all crying profusely. Luffy sobbed as he spoke through tears. "Bon! We shouldn't have left him! It's our fault he didn't escape from Impel Down!"

Buggy, with his nose brighter red than ever, nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Bon-chan is our true hero! We can't live with this weight on our hearts!"

Inspired by their words, the prisoners began to cry even louder, hugging each other. It was a truly ridiculous sight. Daz Bone and Crocodile, standing a bit further away, watched the scene with expressions of pure exasperation.

"How is it possible that these idiots have come this far?" Crocodile murmured, crossing his arms in disdain.

Daz Bone nodded slowly, though his eyes seemed to be slowly losing the will to keep listening to the wails. "I don't know, boss. But this is ridiculous."

Ivankov and Inazuma, leaning against the deck, listened to Alaric and Jimbe's conversation from their position. Though they tried not to intervene, they couldn't help but laugh through their tears at Alaric's simple yet sincere questions.

"Ohohoho! This boy is quite the character!" Ivankov laughed, wiping a tear while watching Alaric with a hint of admiration. "I never would have imagined a guy like him could be so… adorably vain!"

Inazuma, leaning beside him, nodded with a smile. "It's interesting to see him this way. So many simple questions, and such greatness in his future."

The atmosphere on the ship fluctuated between laughter, tears, and exasperation. Alaric, oblivious to all of this, continued to enjoy the sea breeze, mentally preparing for what was to come. The tensions, the battles, and his dreams all intertwined in his mind. But for now, only one thing mattered: his freedom, and the vast world that lay ahead.

The salty breeze of the sea waved the flags of the Marine Headquarters at Marineford. The imposing walls, which seemed to touch the sky, cast long, heavy shadows over the central square, where soon one of the most important battles in the history of the world would take place. The atmosphere on the island floated between tension and fear. Every soldier, every officer, every evacuated civilian now watching from a distance knew that what was about to happen would determine the future of the seas.

At the top of one of the towers, with the windows open to the ocean, stood Sengoku, the Grand Fleet Admiral of the Navy. His gaze, fixed on the horizon, was lost in tormenting thoughts. He held in his hands a piece of paper he had recently received, its edges wrinkled from the pressure of his fingers. The name that stood out among the many on the list of escaped prisoners from Impel Down pierced him like a direct lance to the heart: Alaric.

Sengoku took a deep breath, trying to calm the tide of emotions that washed over him. Before him, the sea appeared endless, a vast and cruel reminder of all he had done wrong. The rumors of chaos in Impel Down had already reached his ears, but the mass escape, led by Luffy, was just one of many disasters piling onto the growing catastrophe. Ace, the son of Gol D. Roger, was about to be executed in just a few hours, and now, Alaric's name resurfaced, bringing with it a guilt he had tried to bury for years.

Sengoku, known for his unyielding control, felt his hand tremble. Alaric… that young man he had once considered his own son. The boy he had rescued from an uncertain fate, whom he had tried to raise under his principles, but who was now among the most dangerous criminals in the world.

"How did I fail so spectacularly?" he whispered to himself, his gaze still lost on the horizon.

Beside him, Garp remained silent. The hero of the Navy, usually carefree and teasing, had changed his demeanor in recent days. The execution of his grandson Ace, the destruction Luffy had caused in Impel Down, and now, Alaric's escape—all weighed heavily on his mind like a anvil tied to his soul. Though he hadn't said anything, the grim expression on his face spoke volumes. Neither of them had been able to fulfill the roles they had set for themselves: to be mentors, fathers, protectors.

Garp let out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "We never saw it coming, did we?" he murmured in a low voice, heavy with guilt. "We both raised him, Sengoku. He trusted us, and we abandoned him."

Sengoku clenched his fists, feeling the pain of those words. Though he couldn't allow himself to appear weak before his subordinates, in front of Garp, his lifelong friend, he let his armor of authority fall, if only for a moment.

"I trained him to be strong," Sengoku began, his tone bitter. "I wanted him to be the best. I wanted him to become a symbol of justice… but I never realized what he truly needed. I thought that by giving him a reason to fight, by giving him a purpose, I was helping him. But I was shaping him in my image, not letting him be himself."

Garp remained silent, his eyes cast downward, the heavy burden of remorse resting on his shoulders. He knew deep down that they had both failed to see beyond the obvious. They had witnessed Alaric's growth, his rise in the Navy, but had not seen the internal conflict brewing within him.

"Twelve years ago…" Sengoku continued, his voice trembling slightly. "When he was sent to Impel Down, I thought it was what was best for him. I believed that… if they locked him up, if he had time to reflect, he might find a way to reconcile with what he had done. I never imagined it would destroy him further."

Memories of that fateful day flooded his mind. He had seen Alaric being taken to prison, the young man with a defiant gaze who had been like a son to him. Despite the unspoken pleas in his eyes, Sengoku had been firm. He believed he was doing the right thing, following the rules he had imposed for decades. However, over time, he began to realize that his rigidity and blind loyalty to justice had clouded his judgment.

Twelve years had passed since then, and throughout that time, he had never gathered the courage to visit him. Not because he didn't want to, but because he feared confronting what he had created. He knew that if he looked into Alaric's eyes, he would see the reflection of his failure.

Garp shifted slightly, his breath heavy. He hadn't seen Alaric either. Since he had been sent to Impel Down, Garp had avoided any contact, evading the truth and his own responsibility. And now, with Ace awaiting execution, he felt history repeating itself, this time with his own grandson.

"I wonder if he… still believes we raised him as a weapon," Sengoku said quietly, his tone laden with pain. "I wonder if he ever understood that I appreciated him… that I loved him."

Garp did not respond immediately. In his mind, he too wondered the same thing. They had been authority figures for Alaric, but at some point, they had ceased to be. Alaric had never been a weapon, never just a soldier to them, but that's what he ended up believing. The lack of contact, the absence of emotional support—all contributed to that misunderstanding, and now it seemed irreversible.

Both men, legendary figures in the world, found themselves trapped in their own thoughts of regret. Marineford, an iron fortress, a symbol of justice and power, felt small and empty at that moment. The waves continued to crash against the shore with a steady rhythm, as if trying to calm the internal storms of the two men.

Sengoku broke the silence once more. "It's been so long since I've seen his face… I wonder how he's changed. I wonder if there's still something of that boy I rescued." His voice cracked slightly. "All I wanted was to protect him… but now it seems it was the opposite."

Garp let out a heavy sigh, his gaze still fixed on the ground. He knew exactly what Sengoku was feeling because he was going through the same with Luffy and Ace. His own grandsons were trapped in a cycle of violence and danger, and everything he had done to prevent them from falling into a life of piracy had been in vain.

"Alaric…" Garp finally spoke, his voice low and filled with sadness. "It's not too late, Sengoku. We may not see it now, but we still have a chance. If… if we can do something after all this, after the war… maybe we can correct what we did wrong."

Sengoku gritted his teeth, knowing that Garp's words were sincere but also painfully optimistic. The impending war guaranteed nothing, and after twelve years of abandonment, how could they even begin to repair what had been broken?

"That… that depends on whether I survive this," Sengoku murmured, finally turning his gaze toward Garp. "And whether he wants to listen to me."

The hero of the Navy nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off his own internal pain. He knew that they were both fighting not only against the coming war but also against their own demons.

"Well, we have to try," Garp said, although even he knew that this hope was a fragile thread, breaking more with every passing second.

As their conversation descended into uncomfortable silence, the communications room buzzed with activity. A Navy officer, with a tense expression and sweat on his forehead, hurried in. His gaze flickered nervously between Sengoku and Garp before he finally decided to speak.

"Fleet Admiral… Vice Admiral Garp," he began, his voice trembling. "We just received more reports from Impel Down. The chaos continues to spread… and there's confirmation of more escaped prisoners."

The officer swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable being the bearer of such news. The tension in the air became palpable, and the silence that followed was even heavier. Garp, arms crossed, simply tilted his head slightly, as if he had already known this was going to happen. Sengoku, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel a wave of emotions as Alaric's name echoed in his mind once more.

"Thank you," the Fleet Admiral responded firmly, though his gaze remained lost on the horizon. "You may leave."

The officer nodded quickly and exited the room, leaving them once again in their shared solitude. The words of the report lingered in the air, and though neither of them spoke it aloud, both knew that the battle would not only be fought on the field of Marineford but also in their hearts.

Sengoku exhaled the breath he didn't know he had been holding. He brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he tried to reorganize his thoughts. Alaric, what have we done to you? he thought, knowing the answers wouldn't come easily.

Garp watched him in silence, and for the first time in a long while, he had no jokes, no nervous laughter to share. They were both immersed in the same pain.