Time for a new chapter everyone. Sorry for the long wait, I know how distracting and/or frustrating it can be. I'm a college student now, and I have a part time job, and sadly as I am still living with my mother she likes to make me do housework. So that's the bulk of things that keep me from my writing, which is my passion and my goal. I'd like to at least update the story once every two months. I think I can work with that setup. However, if I get more reviews I'll attempt to update faster. This chapter begins with a dream/flashback. It seems irrelevant, like something I could've cut out but I promise you it. Is. Not. This is one of those things that don't make sense until later on, and ends up being vitally important.

Now, I have something to apologize for. In one of my previous author notes, I mentioned that Garp sometimes goes home to visit Ace. As it turns out, that's impossible. Where we are in the current canon story arc, Roger was executed 24 years ago, and Ace was born 2 years later (having been protected by his mother who held her pregnancy for twenty months through sheer willpower). Now in this fanfic, not even a full year has passed since Roger's death so Ace couldn't have been born yet. So sorry about this (at least it wasn't a total plot error). I'll be checking the timeline and wiki in the future before adding new chapters to avoid any more mistakes. However, I'll look at this as a blessing in disguise. Now I can include Garp finding Rogue in the story. Not in full detail, no, but I can work it in somewhere which might be fun.

Now, Luffy was born 19 years ago, about five years after Roger's execution and of course three years after Ace. In this chapter, there are three months left until the anniversary of Roger's execution. Luffy was born in May, but never mind that for now. The point is, this chapter takes place approximately 4 years and three months before Luffy's birth. I'm sure some (if not all) of you have deduced that that is where this is all leading: the birth of Monkey D. Luffy. How else would a fanfic about his parents end? Thus, I plan to make the story span the course of those approximate 4 years and three months. I'd like to keep it from getting too long, but I want to include some cameos from some of our favorite characters, and of course Dragon will meet some of his friends, and also the major Ohara incident. I can't skip it. I just can't. I feel like it would really touch a nerve with Dragon, who will become the man who fights against the World Government. So look forward to the Ohara-feels chapter and possible Nico Robin cameo.

Please enjoy the chapter! Please review!

Chapter 9: Dreams and New Movement

Fifteen Years Earlier

Dragon's shaking fingers massaged bashed, mangled knuckles and wrists. Seething water gushed forth, flowing over open gashes, darkening bruises and cracked nails encrusted with dried blood. He ground his teeth together, wincing as he inhaled and exhaled sharply in pain. The water was boiling hot. The skin of his wrists and hands felt raw, tingly. More than likely, his bruises were topped with burns now.

His shoulders lurched, then straightened; a strangled gasp forced his teeth apart. Shuddering violently, he curled shaking fingers into an unsteady fist and slid his forearm from the sinks edge to the front rim. His other forearm lay in the sink, near limp save for the violent quivering. He made a fist with that hand, too, and pressed the knuckles against the curved porcelain.

Dazed, he leaned forward to bite the blood soaked "hot water" handle. Grunting, he shut it off, and rested his head on his propped-up forearm.

For a moment, he just stood there, his mind racing at ninety miles per hour as he tried to stop his breath from catching in his throat. The back-pain from remaing hunched over a solitary bathroom sink for hours was murder. And he would know. He most certainly knew...

He wondered how much time passed since he had returned from his first job, battered and haunted by the night's events. As soon as he'd finished his report, he returned to Cipher Pol 0's lodgings and found the nearest restroom, locking himself inside. He must have looked awful: a twelve-year-old boy trying to rub away the bloodstains and wounds on his hands. He was unsuccessful, and while he'd been focused on the wounds he could see, the ones under his clothes went unattended. The blood seeped out from underneath his long, dark clothes and pooled at his feet. The puddle was fairly big too, sending off all kinds of alarms in his head. He knew he should go see the doctor, but he really couldn't drag his feet even to leave the washroom that now stank of blood and orange-scented shampoo...

His shoulders lurched, back jolting in and out of place. He heard a loud crack and grit his teeth in pain, knowing it was his bones he was hearing. He'd broken so many… Or rather, the assigned target had broken many of Dragon's bones even as he left this world.

The target was a civilian. A young man, only fourteen. He had a reputation as a vigilante who retaliated against the corrupt monarchy of his country in order to protect his people. People who were dropping like flies as a result of starvation. Unfortunately, this kingdom was a World Government member nation, and spies had leaked intel to the World Nobles that the boys parents were both slaves in Mariejois. Somehow, this made the young rebel Dragon's responsibility.

Dragon had come at a bad time, having witnessed the camaraderie shared among the kingdoms rebels. He'd waited for the boy to wander off, and then… He'd attacked. This was his first assignment, and his first target, and as he'd always known his heart wasn't in it. Even with years of training, studying, and attempted brain washing, Dragon nearly died. The other boy was strong, and unlike his CP0 assassin, had had the desire to live.

Still, by a stroke of luck or misfortune (he wasn't sure which) Dragon managed to end the boy's life by bashing a rock into the back of his head. The death wasn't as clean as his instructors would have desired but the job was done. He'd managed to escape before the backup arrived, already too late. Part of him had the desire to stick around, face them, apologize. But they wouldn't forgive him, not ever. And anyway, an apology was worthless.

His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, catching the edge of the sink. He exhaled shakily. Dark, sad eyes zeroed in on all the spots of blood. That rebel boy had wanted to live so bad, he beat Dragon senseless. He'd had the opportunity to run, but he stood and went down fighting. Dragon wished he hadn't. If he'd let that boy escape, Dragon would have still been beaten into this sorry, raggedy mess but would have been spared the heavy anguish that choked him now.

Sitting there on the cold, blood-splattered tiles, Dragon knew he'd never been in more pain. There were the broken bones, the lacerations and the heavy bruising. But even his steaming hands didn't compare to the nausea and heartache. But... But his head... His head was buuuurning...

Blinking away the sweat and mopping up the blood with his sleeve, he pushed himself to his feet. He staggered a little, but came to a stop by wrapping his arms over his churning stomach. Pulling his hood over his disheartened face to fend off the suddenly unbearable bright light, he trudged over to the open shower, and turned the cold water on. Fully-clothed, he curled into a ball and let the cool water wash over him. It hit the back of his neck, massaging his stiff and sore body. Dragon kept his head tucked between his knees and gripped his elbows, deciding he couldn't cry. He didn't have the right to.

Why was he here? Why had he killed that boy? He could've stopped. He'd wanted to stop. He'd been so desperate not to become their killer, their tool. He didn't want this. He never wanted any of it. It was overwhelming. So much pain, too much agony. Why? Whyyyy? Why did his head feel sooo hot...?

He ducked his head further, tightened his arms around his knees. Painful. It was all so painful. And it was going to happen again, and again, and again. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. This inescapable fate had already snagged him in its trap a long, long time ago.

He didn't want to think about it anymore. He didn't want to feel the pain... When did he lie down? He couldn't remember lying down. The room was so foggy, just like the mirror. Just like his head... So hot...

"Help me..." He called out. "Please, help... Help... Help..."

000000

Present Day

"Help..." He begged, seeing sunshine behind his eyelids. "Help me..."

His head was propped on something. His cheek felt a contrast between cloth and smooth, soft skin. He sighed, sounding relieved and happy, but unable to explain why.

His fingers flexed and clawed and stretched, gripping what felt like a knee. He knit his brow in confusion, feeling other fingers run through his hair, poking and probing the sore spot at the back of his skull. Deft, nimble fingers brushed hair aside and drummed over his head wound, making his head sink low. He could feel that he was lying on his side, and could deduce that his cheek was resting on what could only be someones lap. Not much of a pillow, but it was pretty comforting. Who though?

He clenched his fists and were surprised not to feel any pain from the movement. His hands were lying in dirt, somewhat moist just like the clean-smelling air yet not quite mud. The opposite, in fact it was relatively dry and cool, as though it were shaded.

"Hang on, I'm almost done." Said a voice he recognized, yet couldn't quite identify.

From the sound of it, she was the one messing around with his head wound. Normally, that would have jolted him awake. He was taught never to keel over anywhere when he was in the field. There were those who would love to torture a CP0 agent to death. To some, they were more worthy of a gruesome demise than the World Nobles. So half-dead or not, he always stayed on his toes. Only now was different, because if he died here then she could escape—

"You're not going to die, are you?"

Dragon's eyes flicked open. "Ruka."

He was immediately blinded by the golden sunlight shining down through the tree leaves. He winced, shutting one eye and narrowing the other as one of his dirty hands flew up to shield his face. Again, he was surprised by the lack of agonizing pain. There was a light twinge in his forearm and shoulder, but nothing serious. He vaguely noticed his sleeve had been ripped open, and someone had thrown his cloak over him like a blanket.

His mind reeled, and he tried to push himself up. But strong, slender arms came down, one stretching over his own arm to lace their fingers together and the other gently placed over his head to keep it from rising.

"Don't move." She ordered softly, and Dragon's eyes flickered up to meet her resolute gaze.

"Ruka...?" He called, wary and skeptical. He realized now he'd fallen asleep in a dream and awoke in reality, but it felt backwards.

Realizing he'd settled, she returned her attention to his head wound. He swept his eyes over the cavern roof and walls, carved up dirt with his fingers.

He felt strangely calm for an invalid. That was a first. He was groggy, too, and would have let his eyelids slide shut if not for the sharp feeling in the pit of his stomach. A sharp tap to the back of his skull jolted him awake.

"What are you doing?" He asked, squinting as he ascertained that he could still feel his limbs.

Ruka pursed her lips in concern. "Well, I've been trying to keep your head clean of any blood while you've been out, but..." She brushed her fingers over the wound, "But it's a little difficult. All that rain washed whatever herbs might have been here away. The depressions on the roof of this cave are filled with rainwater, so that's all we have. Um... Even though I had to take care of Bonnie's and my own injuries when we were little, neither of us ever got anything worse than a deep cut on the arm."

Dragon's eyes slid shut. "I see."

In other words, she only knew a little basic first aid. She didn't know how to take care of his bleeding skull when he might have a concussion or something worse.

"How long have I been out?" He asked calmly.

"Ummm..." She leaned back, pressing her index finger to her temple. "Two nights, so over twenty-four hours. It's been light out fairly long, so I think its noon?"

"Hmmmm..." Dragon hummed, opening his eyes. They spent a day on this island, the evening of which was spent in that storm. He slept through day two, now had awoken to day three at approximately noon... Ah. The marine ship. It was supposed to arrive today, at the tail end of the island. That storm had forced them back towards the opposite end, where they'd been dropped off. If it really was noon, then they had three hours at best to get to the other shore or they'd be stranded here indefinitely.

"Ah! Ah!" Ruka fussed as he ignored her pushy hands and sat up. Reaching down, he pulled the dirty cloak off and around, tying the pull-strings over his collar bone. He raised one knee, bracing one hand over it as he tried to get up but was stopped when Ruka jumped on him, throwing her arms around his waist in an attempt to pull him back down.

"Get off me." He said half-heartedly, whipping his head away to squint in deep thought. Meanwhile, Ruka clung to him as if someones life (probably his own) depended on it. He tried to shoo her away, but Ruka shot to her feet and trapped one of his arms against his side in a gripping hug that actually made Dragon cough for breath. It felt like a boa constrictor had coiled around his body and was trying to squeeze him to death.

He used his free hand to reach around, lifting her up by the back of her shirt and freeing himself. She hung in the air like a naughty cat and stretched her arms out, moving them up and down desperately while flushed and appearing very concerned not to mention embarrassed.

"You can't get up!" She shouted willfully. Dragon arched an eyebrow at her, skeptical that she still believed she could order him about.

Not that she noticed. She raised her arms and swatted at her back, trying to get free of his grip.

"You're head's bleeding!" She reminded him. "You'll die!"

She was probably correct, but nonetheless they didn't have any time for Dragon to sit and rest. Flaring pain at the back of his head and weak legs be damned, they were making it to that ship. He threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour and marched out of that cave.

Outside, the previously tranquil forest was now a heavy-on-the-eyes wreck of splintered, uprooted wood with a floor of feet-consuming mud that sparkled in the sunlight. The wild transponder snails seemed to have survived somehow, and appeared annoyingly cheerful as they traveled up and over the wet trunks of dead trees. Dragon squinted at them in suspicion as he half-slid/half-hopped one foot at a time down the mud hill. Ruka beat on his back with her fists and consequently hit some of his more severe burns, but he ignored her all the same.

He knew she was insulting him("Suicidal, stone-faced psycho!") but he couldn't just stop and talk her down when they'd spent too much of their time in a cave riding out a storm and nursing wounds. If they didn't keep moving through the mud and the wreckage they'd miss the ship.

"Seriously!" She whipped her head around as she pleaded almost tearfully. "You need a doctor! You might need stitches or something! I'm not a doctor, but even I know it's really bad when someone's head bleeds for hours! How are you even moving right now?!"

"I'm not a doctor either." He told her, noticing too well how he dodged her question. He didn't really feel like trying to explain his extraordinary vitality or fast-healing at the moment. But for as long as he could remember, he'd been surviving impossible odds and fatal injuries. He'd grown accustomed to extreme pain, having developed a high tolerance for it by the time he was a teenager, and barely felt anything (be it bullets or broken bones) after he turned twenty.

"You were burning up in your sleep!" Ruka exclaimed, trying to push herself off his shoulder but was held down by Dragon. "It was really bad! I thought you were going to die! We've gotta get off on this island and find a doctor—"

"We can't." Dragon cut her off, and felt her tense, becoming still.

"How come?" She said, now relaxed just enough to do some listening.

Dragon braced one hand against a fallen log and hopped over, walking around a fairly deep puddle. His gaze sharpened as he remembered the old days, when he was training with the CP0 veterans. They'd drilled into him not just the ways and system of CP0 and the World Nobles, but also warnings. Warnings of "humans" who lived on the surface who "owed their lives" to the "prosperity and peace provided by the World Government." These "ordinary" people were actually resentful of the Celestial Dragons to the point that they would kill them all on sight in painful, nasty ways if they could get away with it. However, attacking a World Noble came with severe repercussions. CP0 was different. No one came to their aid because they were expected to defend themselves. And there had been... incidents. Like what happened to the Doflamingo family after they "descended from heaven." Then there were other occurrences, ones no one in CP0 discussed but always thought about. New agents who had gone out and never returned, or were found dead. Mutilated, or in pieces, or tortured to death or—

"Dragon?"

Ruka's voice, soft and concerned, yanked him out of old memories and he awoke in a cold sweat. He blinked, looking down at his feet now sunk ankle-deep in mud. He gulped, wondering how long he'd been standing there. Ruka reached around to tug lightly on a strand of his hair.

"Hey!" She called faintly, as if she'd noticed the choking fear that froze Dragon in his tracks.

His mouth formed a tight line as he blinked in deep thought. His eyes shifted left and right, seeing sunbeams shining through branches and a swamp of mud puddles and more broken wood. He ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut and squaring his shoulders. After several moments, he straightened up and very gently took her off his shoulder, setting her in front of him atop a fallen log.

She patted the wood with her feet and looked up at him curiously. He shot her a pointed stare that had her pursing her lips in confusion.

"What is it?" She asked

"You're acting like you've forgotten who I am." He stated, eyes narrowing under furrowed brow.

"So?" She asked, unconcerned. Dragon suppressed an aggravated groan and walked a short distance away to lean against the nearest tree.

"I'm the enemy, yours to be precise." He locked eyes with her, and her eyebrows disappeared behind sandy-brown bangs. "I'm a threat to anyone and everyone who angers or opposes the World Nobles."

Ruka frowned, apparently disagreeing. "Are you their friend?"

Dragon knew she was referring to the Celestial Dragons, and that question sent another jolt of fear throughout his body. But he kept his composure just enough, looking away as he answered her question.

"No." He said, feeling just the tiniest shard of doubt in his response.

"Are they your family?" She asked, tilting her head.

"No!" Dragon nearly screamed. He paused, pushing the repulsive thought of being one of them away and crossed his arms over his chest.

Ruka pouted, either sad or unable to understand. Dragon couldn't tell which.

"Are you their slave?"

Dragon's eyes shot open in outrage. He felt something hot boiling at the back of his throat like fire, and he whipped his head up in a fit of rage as he slapped one hand into the tree with such force it broke clear in half and fell over.

"Absolutely not!" He declared, his bellowing voice carrying clear over the treetops to scare the birds away and making Ruka tense as her hair flew up behind her. The tree hit the ground with a thundering boom and crunch so that it almost passed for a bolt of lightning striking the ground not fifteen feet away.

Dragon panted, curling his fingers over the curled stump. His chest rose high and fell low as his heart beat away at a mile a minute. Wide-eyes with contracted pupils looked at Ruka from behind windblown raven hair that hung in his face like a dark curtain.

Meanwhile Ruka was staring at him as if she had suffered some near-fatal electrical shock. Slowly, her features settled into a calm gaze before her eyes filled with a golden warmth and the edges of her mouth turned up in a playful, wise, too-old smile.

"What?" Dragon asked between gasping breaths.

Ruka shook her head, not losing her smile even as her eyes relaxed. "It's just... You kind of behave like one. A slave. I've seen them before, in my hometown when they were with the traffickers. Only..." She frowned thoughtfully, "They were different. Most of them had already given into despair as soon as they were caught. And they had chains on their wrists and ankles. I think you've got them to, chains I mean. But in a different place."

Dragon stared at her, curious but defiant. "Where is that?"

Ruka's expression blankened, and to answer him she tapped her heart. Dragon's own heart sank a little before bobbing back up in his throat. He pulled his free arm back, feeling the urge to knock over another tree.

"It's funny, though." Ruka laced her fingers behind her legs and leaned back, smiling cheekily. "I believe that's what you're resisting them with. Not your words, or your limbs, but your heart. It doesn't want anything to do with that rotten lot, does it?"

Dragon looked away, shutting his eyes. "Why do you care?"

"'Cuz!" She piped, leaning back on her heels. "I think it's a shame that someone as strong as you is taking orders from jerks like them. It's... A waste."

Dragon met her gaze without turning his head. She seemed sincere. Unbelievably, genuinely, astoundingly sincere. He couldn't understand how or why, but he believed every word out of her mouth without a moments hesitation. That should have scared him. After all, scum had attempted to brainwash him and for the most part succeeded. But not to Ruka. She seemed to believe he wasn't one of them, contradicting a previous accusation she made when they were on her ship.

He sighed through his nose and straightened up. Still on guard, he turned to face her.

"What would you suggest then?" He asked. It was rhetorical, and he wasn't thinking about it much, but she immediately replied.

"Run away with me!"

He jolted as the hair on the back of his neck stood up and his shoulders pulled back in a sort of recoil.

"What?" He questioned, now rethinking taking everything she said seriously.

Ruka hopped down and ran over to him, snatching his hand in hers.

"Run away with me!" She beamed, stepping around the tree Dragon destroyed so that their arms were stretched out as far as possible. "Let's run this way! Away from that marine ship!"

She attempted to take off, only to get yanked to a stop as a result of her own momentum and Dragon's still feet.

"Hold it." He ordered, and she looked over her shoulder at him blankly. "What are you talking about?"

"I just told you!" She quipped grumpily, throwing her free hand up to point in her desired direction. "Run away with me!"

"Stop saying that." He commanded, feeling overwhelmed for reasons he didn't understand.

"But you told me to say it again!" She countered, walking back to stand in front of him and put her hand on her hip.

"No, I didn't." He insisted, pressing his palm over his eye in exasperation. "I meant—"

"Come with me!" She demanded, rephrasing her previous demand and standing on her toes so as to shorten the distance between them.

Dragon stared down at her, amazed and a little embarrassed in spite of himself. He looked away again, but she grabbed his collar and yanked him down, forcing him to look at her.

"If you go back to them, you'll die." She assured him, and he felt his heart chill. "If you come with me, you'll be free."

Dragon leaned back, feeling as if an invisible string yanked him away.

"It isn't that simple." He stated, head bowing and eyes darkening. There was nowhere he could go they wouldn't find him, and when they did catch him they'd drag him back and teach him a lesson. Just as they had when he was a little boy who would lay in bed at night crying into his pillow from the pain of the heavy bruising that spotted his ribs and back. He'd feel physical agony and mental anguish and then, terrified, would forcibly accept it all.

"Yes it is!" Ruka argued, eyes flashing as she nodded. "Freedom is the best thing in the entire world! It already belongs to everyone the moment they're born! No one should have the power to take it away! If they have, then you need to take it back! If you don't, then you'll die. Even if you survive every battle, you'll die of sadness."

Dragon laughed weakly, rolling his eyes to the right. "Is that so?"

Ruka's frowned contorted into one of pain, stubbornness, and desperation. Curling her fingers, she placed one fist over Dragon's heart and the other over her own.

"They haven't taken this!" She reminded him sternly, and he regarded her with grim acknowledgement. "As long as they don't have this, you aren't one of them!"

00000

"Ehhh?" Garp whined, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. "Why do I have to go to West Blue?"

Sengoku gnashed his teeth together and slammed his fist down on his desk "Because one of our top officers moseying around HQ, cackling at his own lame jokes, and letting classified information slip to rookies every five minutes is outright humiliating!"

Kuzan sat back in his chair with his fingers drumming quietly on the tufted arms. "I heard there's a situation in the West Blue that's been cause for concern. The Rackham Pirates have been going around from village to village, demanding information on CP0."

Sengoku nodded, throwing himself down in his chair to massage the space between his eyebrows. "Very good, Kuzan. Good to see someone behaving like a proper Marine. Yes, its true about Flint. I'm not sure what he's after, but CP0 work for the Celestial Dragons. Sharing or trading information about them is one of the highest offenses. Even if anyone did know anything, they wouldn't say. Even so, Flint's been wreaking havoc. He's acting out of character. Usually that lot just laze about, drifting from place to place and staging random attacks on our bases for sport."

Garp grinned wildly at Kuzan. "Maybe he's looking for one of their agents."

Sengoku frowned, sitting bolt upright in his chair to give Garp an expression of extreme displeasure.

"What makes you say that?"He asked, unsmiling.

Garp took a rice cracker out of the plastic sack and pointed it at him. "Remember back in the old days, when we were hearing rumors about Roger picking a fight with one of CP0's agents? No one knew if the stories were true, but we kept getting reports of him attacking random villages in South Blue."

Sengoku sat stoically. "Well, maybe. In any case, we need to stop those pirates. West Blue has enough problems without Flint losing his mind. And try to capture him quickly! I don't want CP0 getting involved in this. It'll lead to nothing but trouble."

"Ha!" Garp threw his head back. "You just don't want to get called to Mariejois for a lecture from those dafty old fools!"

Sengoku shot to his feet, raving mad. "You're one to talk! Now get out of my office and do your job! And Kuzan, go with him!"

Garp whipped his head back into place, looking indignant. Kuzan simply nodded, however, and had Tsuru been there she most definitely would have seen the silent understanding pass between the young prodigal marine and the fleet admiral. Garp grumpily bit a rice cracker in half and got up from the seat in a huff, trudging out of the room while grumbling about old debts.

00000

"Any word from Vegapunk?" Fifth asked, leaning his forehead against his propped-up fist.

"Unfortunately, yes." Second replied curtly, gripping his wrists behind his back. "I received the call earlier. He says that the interference is limited only to the red transponder snails, so its natural the others are connecting fine as usual. He has yet to determine the cause."

It was unfortunate. Such a nice day, as was usual. Mariejois, located on the red line, resided at the very top of the cloud layer. Sunny days were endless. The white palaces and cobbled streets would shine and the fountains would sparkle. Slaves cared for the many gardens, so that hundreds of rare species of flowers decorated the courtyards. And yet, a day was only truly fine when everything was in working order.

First stroked the scar over his temple. "This is truly troublesome. The red transponder snails are CP0's only means of communicating with the Celestial Dragons. Without them, their work progress has slowed dramatically. Meanwhile, the list of assignments keeps lengthening and the Nobles grow more and more impatient. Their slaves are dropping like flies and the few who were travelling returned with more wives than they have space for. They're demanding replacements and have ordered random executions of some of our top officers."

"We need to take control of this mess." Third stated, leaning forward seriously. "We have at least three white transponder snails. Hand them out to the most capable operatives and divide up the list between them. Tell their fellow agents only to contact them for new assignments, and we should be able to clear the list in under five days."

"That won't work." Fourth argued with a sneer. "The World Nobles are displeased. They'll keep giving orders until they get bored. Normally, CP0 can keep up with their mood swings but not with comms down indefinitely."

"In that case," First ordered, "Find something to distract or entertain them for the next few days. I predict that Dragon will return in less than a week. He has the strength and efficiency of a 100 man army at the least. Even if we are unable to contact him at this time, he'll fulfill his duties to the letter and use his instincts to return here as swiftly as possible. However, with the taboo forbidding citizens from discussing the business of CP0, we won't have any reports on his movements."

"Are you sure you understand the gravity of this situation?" Fifth asked, sounding acutely concerned. "When he first left, we ordered him to kill her. I believed that he would do so without any problems, and return post haste. But if he's travelling with one of them, all alone—"

"Dragon was raised by the CP0 agents of old times," Second interceded. "Those veterans, with awesome power merely a step down from our own. Unlike his fellows, who were enlisted into Cipher Pol when they were thirteen, Dragon was properly trained and educated in the arts of war and torture from the time he could hold a spoon. He is ruthless, black-hearted, cunning, clever, and perfectly unique. If he were here, he could clear that long list of assignments in two days maximum. Though he may give us grief, that's only his character bleeding through. It's not a cause for a concern. That woman is his prisoner, his target, and victim. She will not prove to be influential in any way. He will deliver her to us, we will interrogate her, and then she will die. And he will continue his work."

"I think Fifth is right to be concerned." Third spoke up, earning the attention of the others. "Dragon sounded strange when I last spoke to him. If I didn't know better, I would have said he was disheartened."

"As I've been trying to say, it isn't a good idea to leave him alone with her." Fifth insisted. "He'll sense it—"

"Enough." First raised his hand, impatience creeping into his tone. "What's done is done. He's in the field, on assignment, and we cannot contact him. Focus your attention on the situation that we can resolve."

"Aren't you even a little unsettled by this?" Fifth asked, briskly striding over to stand before First. The old leader and his younger associate locked still and steady gazes with First resting his chin on his raised knuckles while Fifth jutted his chin out. "He's out there on his own. Without the red transponder snails, we can't listen in on anything he's doing. He might run into someone, overhear something he shouldn't. Years of investing our best resources to turn him into something that be properly controlled and put to righteous use. Does it not disturb you that those conditions could change? That we might lose something invaluable?"

First lowered his hand, sighing through his nose in exasperation. "Do you fear him?"

Fifth and Third were both taken aback. They exchanged looks, asking a million silent questions in an instant before facing First.

"Not afraid." Third bluntly reassured. "Just wary."

"He's seen too much." Fifth reminded, weary-eyed and serious. "It's an occupational hazard, but all the same it could've been avoided. If we had—"

"We allowed him to live," First cut in, authoritative and relaxed, "So he could be useful to us. He has been. As it stands, he's indispensable. Normally, I would allow you to follow your instincts and have him 'knocked off.' But even we have our limits. The Celestial Dragons are too fond of him, and not in the usual way. If something happens to Shiroryuu, those divine beings will become impossible. Anyway, you really shouldn't worry. A black heart may keep beating, but its owner doesn't care who he serves so long as he is respected and well-fed. And we've given him that. Dragon is no longer the pitiful little wretch who tried to escape us. He's a rare, top-of-the class elite soldier under their command. And the chances of anything or anyone changing that... Are zero."

00000

"Island ahead!" Came a shout from outside the door.

The dingy, cramped little captains quarters stank of mildewed wood and barnacles. This retched little ship was crewed by a most pathetic batch of deadbeat recruits one of which was too far along in years to even be of service. Each and every time he was spotted, the old geezer was swabbing the exact same spot on the deck. His brains must have turned to mush. Useless old fool...

"Sir," Captain Yudai opened the cracked door, shutting it behind him and saluting his senior officer.

Sakazuki nodded, dismissing the stance without tearing his gaze away from the window. It was barely large enough to fit one hand through, not that it opened. The glass was cracked and dirty, ruining what little view he had of the horizon and the Island they were fast approaching. Said Island was still too far away to be seen clearly with the naked eye, but Akainu couldn't care less. He was here on this ship for a different reason.

"How long?" He asked, pulling his beige hood down to illuminate his blind spots.

"The island is within sight, as you can plainly see, sir." Yudai replied, crossing his arms behind his back as he approached Sakazuki. "We'll weigh anchor within the hour. If the dendenmushi are really as plentiful on this Island as they say, then we should be done with our mission in less than half an hour. As soon as we've collected our assigned quota, we'll be on our way to Paati Island."

"You'll bring the ship to shore in the next half hour." Sakazuki ordered severely.

The Marine captain looked as if he were trying to swallow a frog. "…Yessir. "

"Moving on," Sakazuki raised his forearm, leaning on it for support, "Tell me about our next destination. Paati Island. Why is it called that?"

Yudai appeared bewildered by this question. "Do you have some fascination with that Island, sir?"

"Answer the question." Sakazuki snapped, and Yudai paled.

He attempted to retain his composure by straightening up and holding his head up high. It didn't compliment the panting breath coming from his nose or the sweat on his eyelids.

"I've never been there, sir." Yudai replied, apparently still able to gather his thoughts. "But they say it's an endless party. It's a small island, out of the way with only one village. But it's home to... Well some claim that magicians live there."

Sakazuki scoffed. "Magicians... No such thing. Whatever odd powers are displayed, they're almost always the cause of a devil fruit."

"That's just it, sir!" Yudai practically jumped, as if his superior had made some error. "No one on that Island has ever eaten a devil fruit. But there's always a festival or an anniversary or some celebration going on. The elders of the village like to set up booths, and use their odd powers to earn a living."

"What sort of powers, exactly?" Sakazuki asked.

Yudai relaxed, showing confidence. "Psychics, sir. Palm readers, fortune tellers and the like. I used to think it was a hoax, but... My wife visited once. She was told to go to another island in the west blue. It took her several weeks to reach her destination, but as soon as she arrived she walked up to a young marine to ask for directions to the nearest inn. That's how we met."

Sakazuki regarded the captain coldly and looked back out the window. The captain continued talking. Just some useless chatter about his wife and their little adventure in his hometown, but Sakazuki tuned him out. They were closer to the island now, and he narrowed his eyes at it. For some reason he felt vile churning in his gut. His shoulders had weakened and there was a bitter cold that traveled through his chest like ice over a window in the middle of winter.

Odd. Too odd to ignore. He hadn't felt like this in a very long time. Not since—

"—Saw a Zoo," Yudai said, and Sakazuki's blood ran cold. "She loves Zebra's, even now. Them and—"

Sakazuki whirled. "What did you say?!"

Yudai froze, drawing a blank. He knit his brow, frowning and looking around as if to check if Sakazuki were addressing someone else. He seemed to accept that it was he whom Sakazuki was regarding with a mixture of unwanted nostalgia and anger, the kind associated with old injuries that never quite healed right.

"We saw a Zoo, sir." Yudai repeated, and Sakazuki let himself breath. "Zebras? Funny striped-horse things? My wife—"

"Never mind all that!" Sakazuki put his hand up, dismissing the matter.

Yudai's jaw shifted, showing discomfort. "Are you alright, sir?"

Sakazuki sighed through his nose, having forgotten the Island and the nausea it seemed to induce. His throat constricted as his mind conjured up old memories, flashes of hidden thoughts that he usually kept secret even from himself.

"I thought I heard..." He began, trailing off and tilting his head, shutting his eyes in an attempt to push the small wave of memories back behind the dam he'd constructed.

Just as everything went back over the edge, he caught something. An image of a boy with bandaged hands and a rucksack of stolen food, dressed in a cloak and boots with legs that were always trying to carry him onto the wrong path.

"Sazu!"

Sakazuki rolled his head back in discomfort, inhaling sharply and snapping his eyes open.

"Take care of your business on this Island as quickly as possible." He ordered, glaring pointedly at the island as he rested his head against the wall. "I won't tolerate any dawdling. Now go!"

00000

There you have it. Some of the Gorosei are concerned that Ruka will lead Dragon astray, while others are confident that's impossible. Meanwhile Garp has been sent to West Blue, the same blue Dragon is currently in. Sakazuki is on the ship that Dragon plans on using to get off Eel Island Pass, with neither one aware they're about to reunite for the first time in years. To top it all off, Ruka has set about trying to save Dragon from himself, the Gorosei, and the World Nobles.

I hinted at Dragon's origins again, as I'm sure you picked up. I really can't wait to reveal that, but sadly both author and readers will have to be patient. It's too sloppy to reveal everything all at once and anyway my own theory about Dragon is a bombshell, if I do say so myself. I'd like to drop it near, on, or after the climax of this fanfic. Look forward to it!

You might have been wondering why they were discussing Paati Island so much. I have big plans for this small Island. They'll probably reach it the chapter after next. And speaking of next, I'm not sure when I'll be able to add it. At most, you can expect it on November twentieth.

Do please review. I can't begin to explain the creativity-crushing effects we authors suffer from lack of reviews. So review! Even if its just a single word, or a single sentence, it will be very much appreciated.

Edit: My sister dropped one piece after we watched episode 487. I suppose I should have seen this coming, since she doesn't seem very moved by the constant feels or laughs. But my heart's broken right now, as she was the only one I could watch it with and she was so close to meeting my favorite character. I'm afraid my desire to write fanfiction revolves greatly around my mood and state of mind. So if you want me to keep writing, please write a review. I really need as much support as possible right now.