AN: The song for this chapter is "Courtesy Call" by Thousand Foot Krutch. I personally always thought of it as "Overkill," but Google tells me otherwise.

Kei

The ships used by the Marines and other World Government forces were not teleporters. They weren't even equipped with turbines or propellers. Whenever they needed to move large numbers of personnel and materiel, they needed to do it by boat and in huge numbers, and that meant they only ever went as fast as the slowest ship in the sailing armada. With so many troops concentrated in and around Marineford, even if the Warlords had apparently been dismissed due to lack of objectives, it would take time to turn them around.

That didn't mean they were slow, strategically speaking. But it did mean that we had more leeway than one would have expected from a force facing a modern army.

And that meant we could get the Straw Hat Pirates the hell out of the way with time to spare, just by putting Saiken on the job.

"But—"

"Into the bubble, please!"

A lot could happen in twenty-four hours, which was everyone's best bet regarding how long we had until doomsday. And not the kind with green-robed flying robots and a man in a metal mask.

Luffy and his crew were forcibly escorted away from Fishman Island by Saiken and Rayleigh. Luffy may have wanted to fight alongside Ace, but not that long ago Admiral Kizaru had rolled in and gotten right down to handing the Straw Hats their own asses. Almost terminally. Instead, since they still wanted to be involved, they were going to be one of two sets of scouts who were not to engage the enemy if at least halfway feasible.

Gaara and Fū had different marching orders, not that I expected them to listen. I'd never wielded any authority worth writing home about over the two of them. If they were staying with the Straw Hats, and the rest of us lived, they could find us later.

As for the Revolutionaries? While no one could have pried the Whitebeard Pirates out of their territory with the world's largest set of pliers, the Revolutionaries did have a commander who could overrule everyone at Fishman Island. Sabo promised, instead, that he and his crew would keep the Whitebeards updated on events via Kuromushi and Naruto's collection of transponder snails, even if they had to skirt rather close to Marine detection range until it was all over. For better or for worse.

Meanwhile, Isobu laid a false trail of regularly spaced (but erratically powerful) blasts of killing intent where Yang Kurama didn't bother, resulting in a pattern that—according to Chōmei—looked like a giant eyeball when viewed from above. I didn't bother asking why they'd chosen it, even if the resulting pupil-approximation didn't center on Mariejois. I was almost afraid it was something subconscious, relating to their distant and forgotten past, and they wouldn't be able to answer. Nonetheless, the giant invincible monsters were doing their best to buy us a little more time. In between lounging around and arguing with each other like the gaggle of siblings they were.

And lastly, the Whitebeard Pirates. Who, of course, were about as tractable as the pure, distilled essence of mule. They weren't going anywhere if their people needed protection, and damn numerical superiority for its arrogance in thinking it meant anything to the Whitebeard Pirates. Fishman Island was their responsibility. There were over a thousand of them even before the allied captains made it to the battlefield, and the old man's protective instinct about justified all of that confidence. They'd be the numerical backbone of any defense while the Tailed Beasts would dominate if we were counting by mass. There was a cheer and everything.

I personally took that kind of enthusiasm as a bit of overconfidence on anyone's part, but I'd been keeping most of my commentary to myself while the "strategy" meeting went on.

I had a basic grasp of tactics, because every shinobi did and there was an advantage to understanding how standing armies thought and fought, but it wasn't like it was my job. Not nearly for the first time, I wished I could call on Sensei or Kakashi. Sensei because someone to double-check my conclusions was sorely needed. Kakashi, instead, because he could do both that and because I just missed him. I'd never claimed to be a bastion of calm in a chaotic sea, even if the chaos was doubling down on its strength in the meantime.

Meditating didn't help much when I was sitting on a spar just above the actual overenthusiastic pre-war party. Or when I was really just moping.

Once the furor died down a bit below me, Ace hopped up onto the same chunk of mast that, once upon a time, he'd accidentally tossed me to while trying to be helpful. That had been a long time ago—but not, perhaps, as long as it felt.

"I'm going help with Aokiji," Ace said, when I only waved halfheartedly in greeting with my left hand.

I sat up a little straighter, eyeing him. We knew all of the admirals were coming our way thanks to the power of snail wiretapping, but everyone had put aside the idea of who would fight which admiral pretty early on. Or so I thought.

"Ever done it before?" I asked, since I knew I sure hadn't.

Honestly, the sheer scale at which the famous Blue Pheasant could produce ice was absurd. I'd thought once already that Kaito would have been grinding his teeth in jealousy at the ease at which the admiral would freeze everything within his range, but that seemed to be part and parcel of being a Logia. Massive AOE attacks, regardless of the exact substance involved. The auto-parry could be bypassed, sure, but Jozu had said admirals tended to haki mastery to counter that little problem. Kind of a pain in the ass.

"No," Ace said, "but no one ever really knows what'll happen when two Devil Fruits go at it until it happens. Remember what Luffy said about that lightning Logia?"

"Yeah, I do." Rubber—which was a Paramecia, and therefore the least predictable—beat lightning. When that story had come out during a game of dice, there had been jaws hanging toward the deck all across the ship. "Ace's baby brother" was garnering a reputation lickety-split. "So, you're thinking fire would counter ice."

"It sure as hell won't stop magma," Ace said, shaking his head. "So I'm leaving him to you guys, even if I don't want to. Kizaru's harder to stop, but Marco and Thatch volunteered for taking him out. The rest of us are gonna have to fill in depending on who the Marines send—if they're even willing to square off against us this far from Marineford. And hell, maybe Utakata might actually let other people in on his brawl with Akainu. Doubt it, though."

I wouldn't have bet on it either. "If he does, I'll back him up. We've fought people like Akainu before."

Though I'd only ever sparred with Rikuto. He'd never once tried to actually kill me. Utakata's sparring matches with his wife were probably more informative, because he was guaranteed to have had more of them. Again, though, there was probably not much of a chance he'd let an actual enemy with Lava Release survive their first encounter if possible. It would be like shooting his own foot. And Mei would probably have laughed at him.

"You sure?" Ace asked. If he knew I was putting up a bit of a front, he was faking ignorance well.

Screw it. "No, but I'm old enough to know the outcome isn't assured. We have a lot of cards to play, but our goal is to get out without anyone dying on our side. It may well be impossible." And, wonder of wonders, I didn't make any further jokes about card games while in the presence of a man whose entire original pirate shtick was based on exactly that pun.

On a more relevant note, while the Tailed Beasts were about as concerned about Marine lives as humans were about the lives of ants, some of us at least pretended to be decent people. I didn't want a massacre, but the Marines didn't seem to understand that their blood on the water was the best possible outcome for them. It was like waiting behind a breakwater, if the individual drops that made up a wave had all been human lives.

Lambs to a slaughter.

Lambs that can spit lava. Save your sympathy for our humans. The rest can rot in the sea for all I care.

I sighed inwardly. Yeah, that was about what I deserved for my woolgathering. "Ace?"

"What?"

"Don't die, okay?" I reached over and gently punched his right shoulder. "I'd hate to bury a brother."

Ace inhaled sharply, then jerked his head away. "Yeah, well…same here. Losing a sister, right after getting one… I don't want that to happen either."

I unfolded my hand and left it on his shoulder. "Are you crying?"

"Like hell, you sap," Ace said, whipping back around though his eyes were indeed watering. "It's… Thatch must be chopping onions."

"Liar," I said, and Ace nodded ruefully before reaching around with his other hand and clasping my forearm.

"See you on the other side, Kei," Ace said, and his voice didn't wobble through sheer force of will.

"You know it," I replied. Before I headed down belowdecks to catch some shuteye before the Marines arrived, I spotted Yugito heading up and pointed her in Ace's direction. She didn't thank me, because she never did, but I could have sworn she smiled for just a second before going after her fellow pyromaniac.

I woke up some hours later with Naruto dozing against my leg. Which was the last peaceful moment for quite some time.

Kuzan

Kuzan, as he was called by very few of his comrades among the Marines, was not looking forward to deploying against the Whitebeard Pirates. The captains on down hadn't been briefed on the exact suspicions the World Government had about the shifting tides of power over the past six months, pertaining to both the Red Hair Pirates and the Whitebeards, but Kuzan was an admiral. He had a very good idea of what they were going to face. Hence his lack of enthusiasm—not that he ever had much to spare.

The Moby Dick's vast white figurehead made the ship unmistakable for anything else, and the ship wasn't alone. In the few days since the Marines had been tipped off about the ship's location (finally), forty-two ships had joined the Whitebeard flagship, including Moby Two and Moby Three, which made Kuzan look sidelong at Borsalino's black snail-endowed wrist. There was no way the pirates could have arranged this defense—or perhaps just a fleet—without snail calls. But Borsalino, as ever, couldn't be bothered to give enough fucks to tell anyone. Which was why, today, the Marines were going into this battle with nowhere near as many troops as they needed to guarantee victory.

The problem with the situation was twofold: One, the bottleneck created by ferrying troops to Marineford couldn't be easily compensated for when it became clear the pirates weren't going to take the bait. Not that the Marines had any bait to tempt them with anymore, with Fire Fist's death in Impel Down. What Whitebeard would do in the midst of a paternal rage was different if he had a reason to embark on a rescue mission. Kuzan had no doubt that, by now, the old man was aware there was no one to save.

That led directly to number two: Whitebeard's decision to flatten G-5, instead of any other fat targets like Mariejois itself, meant that the old man knew damn well what was what. Ordinarily, he could have run a shockwave through anyone and anything set his mind to destroying. But G-5 was a precision strike. The old man might've been angry, but it was a keen anger. He knew exactly who was to blame for the death of one of his sons, and he was going to take his revenge on his terms.

Kuzan generally didn't care whether pirates were smart, because for the majority of them it hardly mattered. Whitebeard, though… Whitebeard was a problem for the entirety of the Marines to deal with, preferably with a three-to-one numerical advantage.

Which, thanks to a solid half-dozen factors, was not going to happen.

"Sir, the—it's the enemy," said one of the captains, who were supposedly prepared to give their lives to defend the World Government from pirate upstarts. Listening to his voice shake, however, didn't fill Kuzan with confidence about his abilities.

And then things went to hell.

Utakata

Across the entire battlefield, the jinchūriki all got their cue at the exact same moment.

Now!

Utakata and Saiken took point. They took their point directly to the trailing end of the Marines' formation.

Fog rolled in like an airborne tide in the wake of Saiken breaching the surface, his high-pitched shriek almost seeming to drive the false weather phenomenon forward. Ultimately, the two things were unrelated, but it didn't matter. Everyone on the battlefield felt the moment the fleet almost quailed in the face of such a horror. And only one side was fully primed to take advantage of it, so the chaos began the moment the Marines had their line of sight to the Whitebeard flagship obscured.

Utakata made his grand entrance, bursting from the waves in a reddish, semitransparent silhouette that hit one of the trailing Marine vessels and flipped it straight into the air by hammering on the stern from below. As he rose through the air, riding the rudder as though it was a mere stage feature in a grand acrobatic performance and he was the star of this circus. A click and a ka-chak, and his bubble wand snapped out to its full six-foot length and its head unwound into an arrangement of nozzles that looked almost like the head of a flower. At the back of the Usopp Special, water trailed back to the sea and a mess of tubes funneled the ammunition through the world's third least-likely effective weapon.

Not that it mattered.

Utakata, while Saiken sprayed a jet of water with enough force to cut a different battleship in half, swung his arm out as though directing a symphony. Iridescent bubbles flooded the air, growing the farther they got from the source and slowing as they went, blocking the fleet's retreat with a blanket of deceptively dangerous sea foam that just kept spreading.

He had no idea if the Marines had any current members with bubble-based powers. He hadn't asked. He had a lot of chaos to cause, after all.

Utakata eyed the distribution of the fleet, then raised his weapon in front of his face. One hand rested knife-edge first against the nozzle, as though part of a choreographed ritual dance. "Water Release: Explosive Bubble."

The explosions were almost beautiful.

Utakata landed amongst the foamy mass in the wake of the blasts, bounced twice off the ocean's surface and bits of ship, and then rode a bubble the size of an elephant out of immediate range of Marine cannons. The Marines didn't have the ability to lower the barrels of their island-killing guns far enough to fire directly at him. Even if they did, there was no guarantee gunpowder weapons would cut through a chakra cloak that had and would continue to shrug off anything less than a second jinchūriki.

There was screaming coming from the ship he'd overturned, and it lasted until one of Saiken's tails caused such a wave that the wreckage was entirely engulfed. Utakata paused long enough to watch the powder magazine burst under the pressure of the bubbles that were spawning almost on their own, like an infection the ocean itself couldn't shake.

Uta? That was only a little ship.

Then we'll have to bag a bigger one, won't we? Utakata sent a brief flash of vicious satisfaction through the link, and was rewarded by a tendril of not-so-benevolent laughter that hardly suited Saiken's bright and guileless personality.

Or maybe it did, because ultimately Saiken, too, was a Tailed Beast. He hoarded his sympathy for a rainy day as much as any of the others did.

"The Carnation Prince!"

"It's the pirate who attacked Impel Down!"

"That man's bounty is—Vice Admiral, he's too much for you!"

"Get out of the way, you sniveling cowards!"

As Utakata watched dispassionately, a Marine from one of the ships leapt off the slowly angling stern of the ship. He was making a bizarre kicking motion, which seemed to result in improvised flight to some degree. As long as he kept kicking the air hard enough to make it forget it was supposed to be dropping him like a stone.

Having seen Fū in action recently, and Marines of some skill in the somewhat more distant past, Utakata was less than impressed.

Saiken was about to turn around to swat the impertinent human out of the air, perhaps just as a show of force, but Utakata shook his head at the same time that he sent a wordless negative to his partner.

Let the Marine think he had a chance in hell. Then Utakata would discipline him like the dog he was.

In fact, this Marine seemed to be a literal dog. As the man continued to hover by sheer force of will and flailing reverse-kneed legs, Utakata eyed him with somewhat more interest. What he had assumed was a hat of some sort now appeared to be a genuine set of floppy dog ears. Underneath another hat.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Utakata asked, without especially bothering to raise his voice.

The man's bared teeth were even based on a canid's. Utakata had spent enough time looking at Yang Kurama's gigantic mug to know that much. "You're facing Vice Admiral Dalmatian of the Marines, pirate scum! You may be Carnation Prince Utakata, but you're a mere bug to be crushed by the power of the World Government!"

"I take it you know of my most infamous crime."

"Know of it? Some of my friends were killed there by your act of terrorism!" Vice Admiral Dalmatian brandished a sword that was probably longer than Utakata was tall, point held steady and directly at the shinobi's nose. "You're the architect of the bloodiest massacre in World Government history, and that will not stand!"

You missed the part where we at least let the Marines go. And recruited most of the prisoners who weren't utter blights upon the world. Can't say the same about the jailors, but as far as I'm concerned? They were no loss.

"You and your pet abominations have made fools of us for the last time!" snarled the man who was, really, all too much a loyal attack dog to ever call someone else a pet.

I don't like him.

Agreed. And this conversation was a mere distraction on the way to the real prize. With that decision made, Utakata stepped back onto the bed of foam and let his bubble wand briefly slip out of his fingers. And then he started making hand seals.

Vice Admiral Dalmatian was still posturing when the Water Dragon Bullet wrapped around him and dragged him into the depths and, far below, Isobu and Kei's deadly underwater trap.

Utakata didn't have many scruples in combat. When dealing with people whose weakness was the grip of the sea, and whose countermeasures involved a great deal of concentration, his interest in humoring their delusions of power had long since withered to nothing.

With the other ships trying to maneuver to get him in their sights, Utakata followed the doomed vice admiral down into the dark with Saiken close behind him. He needed a bit more time to make sure their next strike was just as effective as their first, and his first turn was finished.

As they dove, Utakata and Saiken passed their other-village counterparts—Isobu and his human host, Kei. The woman almost saluted him, two fingers raised in a greeting, before the red glow of her chakra cloak engulfed her and both of the Three-Tails set shot toward the surface.

Utakata eyed the rapidly-drowning Marine, still sinking faster, and raised a hand.

The Water Dragon Bullet shifted, darkening to jet black as it swirled around the man. Utakata didn't look when the ink-tainted bubble imploded, scattering gore for the sharks to consider later. He knew enough about the effects of his ninjutsu to be sure of the effect.

You should have left me some, Saiken remarked, his stalk eyes shifting away from the mess and back toward the blue light filtering down from above. The shadows of ships looked miniscule from here, visible only between the passes of Isobu's pumping tails. Sooner or later, the sizes would even out.

Utakata had a perfect shot at the unguarded back of a woman who had, more than once, ruined his life by existing. And he wasn't even tempted to act on it.

It was funny, really. Utakata had never been able to grow close to many people in his life, and had done his best to stay out of the conflicts that involved prospective masters yanking on his chain to see if they could get him to perform. He'd known he was being manipulated by the Mizukage, by his friends, even his master. Even so, he'd tried to stop caring so damn much once he realized the world could and would tear his heart out if he gave it a chance. The Tidal Blade had, unintentionally or not, been a vital component in his childhood misery just by surviving long enough to take Isobu from Kirigakure.

And here he was, working alongside a woman he'd spent the better part of a decade despising with what remained of his misplaced, withered sentimentality. She'd never even met him before Banaro, and offered her hand in friendship despite her own misgivings about his loyalties.

Here he was, having lived the closest thing to a pressure-free life he'd ever known, among the kinds of criminals he might've once destroyed without a second thought. As long as the pay was good. Shacking up with former slaves who worked the seas as highbrow, flower-themed bandits. Caring about them to the point where their loss tore him open like nothing had ever managed since Yagura's death. Since Harusame's betrayal.

Here he was, whiling the hours away in a sea of blood-soaked vengeance when, back home, Mei would probably be showing by now. Utakata didn't even know if she'd ever decided on a name. He hadn't been there. He was missing months—had been missing for months—and for all he knew, the child was already in Mei's arms back home, perhaps prematurely, having never met the spectacular absentee father he was turning out to be.

Rosema, Carline, Liliana— Utakata shook his head to still his thoughts, sending bubbles streaming around him in his agitation. Can't do anything for them. Nothing's left except killing their murderer.

And going home to welcome a new member of the family. Wait for me, Mei.

Utakata blew out a bubble, distantly glad that the chakra cloak took on Saiken's water-breathing properties. By now, Kei would have located the primary powerhouses of the enemy force. All she really had to do was make a giant target of herself, which would be easy as long as she stuck by Isobu's side up there.

Then they'd be able to really get started.

Utakata waited for long minutes, watching orange light blot out blue as the Whitebeards' vanguard began to confront the enemy. He kept still as Tailed Beasts split the fleet.

And the moment the seas began to boil as lava slipped beneath the waves, Utakata had him.

Isobu (and Kei)

It'd probably be crass to say it out loud, Kei thought wryly, directly to Isobu, but I think the Marines must be the most misinformed and doomed army this side of the Charge of the Light Brigade.

Do tell. Isobu had trawled through enough of Kei's esoteric knowledge to have a basic grasp of the reference. Commanders with grudges against one another, a lack of useful reference points, vague orders, and then a whole bunch of perfectly useful lives were wasted running directly into the teeth of the enemy.

Though Isobu was of the opinion that the teeth here were rather more literal than in Kei's original explanation, he could see her point. Still, it was nice to have her voice flowing through the bond while they worked. He didn't even have to send any bloodlust back to motivate her.

They assumed we were independent agents, unaffiliated with the Whitebeard Pirates, Kei explained readily. She directed a Wind jutsu in the direction of a smaller Marine ship and, once the air hit the unfurled sails, tipped it on its side as though it were caught in a sudden hurricane. They assumed you were unthinking monsters. And, though I'm sure it got back to them, they never figured out just how dangerous you are.

It is always nice to be appreciated for the strength one brings to bear. Though, failing that, being fatally underestimated is an interesting consolation prize. Isobu swatted a Marine vessel directly into the ocean with one tail, smashing wood and canvas and expensive metal into so much scrap. Kei pointedly did not ask about the men who had crewed it.

She was learning.

Oh, hey. Doesn't this guy—? Here, she sent an image of a hulking old human, with a semicircle scar all around one eye and gray hair from beard to impending bald spot. He wasn't as large as Whitebeard, but he was at least triple Kei's height. He kinda looks like...if Ace or Luffy were way, way older.

Still a Marine. You know he will attack both of us on sight. Isobu had allowed Fossa to paint a Whitebeard symbol on his belly in ship paint, but no one really had high hopes that it would last past the end of this battle. Even if no one got past the shell, they hadn't time to make sure the chemicals dried properly. Isobu could already feel it flaking.

Kei paused, a sign that she was listening. But if he's dangerous…he'll get anywhere near Naruto over my dead body. But I'd prefer if it was his.

Where is that boy, anyway? Isobu wondered, though he knew where Yang Kurama was hiding in the crowd. Smaller chakra signatures were harder to spot in the chaos of melee combat, even if he was only one of ten who ought to have been around.

Kei's thoughts stalled as she directed a Water Dragon Bullet at a known enemy in a yellow suit. She was too experienced fighting little pawns to slow down, physically, but Isobu felt the spike of panic through their bond. His tails might've twitched and a Marine ship may have collapsed under their weight. He wasn't concerned with something so minor.

Isobu instead directed his thoughts toward his siblings. It was like how Kei felt when she opened a door to shout out a window, at least on occasions when that occurred. Where did Yang Kurama's host go?

Distantly, he felt Yang Kurama stir from his apathetic slouch in the remaining mist, ears pricked. What? The boy was just here— Naruto—

"NARUTO!" Kei's voice broke through the burgeoning worry, as her fear bled out and was replaced by a familiar protective anger.

And then the sea flipped on its side, and Isobu exerted his will like a cracking whip to keep the shift from disturbing Kei. She was already strong and reckless enough—just—to ignore such a change in the battlefield and storm straight into the fray, but that didn't mean Isobu would allow the situation to devolve further. One of them had to keep a proper perspective in this fight. As the next best thing to invulnerable, and given that he was not small enough to be as delicate as Kei's task required, he had his role.

Isobu bellowed a wordless challenge to the panicking Marines, his voice reverberating in his chest and out into his sea and up toward the uncaring sky. I have things handled here. Go.

On it. Cover me!

While his speaking voice had almost always been what Kei called "boyish," or at least didn't seem to match his size or nature, Isobu thought she appreciated that his roar was perfect for him. He'd caught more than one silly, whimsical fantasy of pretending to stomp around a make-believe city in here mind, though the blue bear-creature she based her fantasy on was more adorable about it.

He could definitely be a distraction. Even with a V1-cloaked jinchūriki in their midst, the Marines would not be able to ignore a Tailed Beast blitz.

Sister, if you wish it…?

Matatabi's mental voice was a laugh, and her voice rose in a yowl in the real world. Of course.

Don't forget about me! Saiken called, sending the wobbling view from his eyestalks.

And so a plan was hatched. Perhaps a fraction of one. Twelve percent, no more.

Isobu split his attention between causing havoc and tracking Kei's thoughts. As always happened with their sight-sharing ability, her impressions were almost as though he experienced them himself.

"Naruto, what the hell?! I told you to stay back!" I grabbed the blond menace by the back of his jacket and tore him off the pink-haired Marine he'd been showing what-for, because of course this kid couldn't stay out of trouble and let the adults do the smashing. There was evidence of Naruto's mob-style fighting all over the deck in the form of bruised and battered Marines, of whom a blond with mushroom hair was the worst-off.

"You can't leave me out of this, Kei-sen—"

I didn't have time for this shit. "Yang Kurama's heading this way, and you're going back with him. You're too important to get hurt here."

"You," said the Marine everyone had been ignoring. "You call yourself the Tidal Blade, don't you?"

I stand up to my full height, which doesn't really hold a candle to this guy. Why is it that every admiral I'd actually seen was at least ten feet tall? There had to be some unwritten recruitment rules about people build like bears, barrels, or a combination of both. On stilts.

"Yeah, that's the face on the poster," said the old man. I wasn't sure who this guy was, but the conventions of this universe would demand his name before I got a chance to.

"At least I got to pick mine." Hang on. Over the last few days I'd gotten a chance to hear more of Ace's childhood—bits thereof—but coincidence cast a shadow over anyone associated with Luffy with the weight of Plot. And I knew there was another Monkey running loose in the ocean. Time for a shot in the dark. "Wouldn't you say so, Hero?"

Isobu sighed internally. Kei's train of thought—odd phrase, that—made a habit of logical leaps that didn't make much sense to anyone else.

The man's face twitched, but it was quickly rendered less relevant when he smacked his fist into his left palm, exactly like Luffy did on the few occasions I'd seen him pump himself a fight. We hadn't made much of a habit of leaving Luffy to his own devices when, inevitably, one of the Tailed Beasts ended up intervening first.

Yeah, this was the grandpa Gaara and Fū had talked about. The same one that had met them at Water 7 and actually intimidated Straw Hat Luffy. If Gaara hadn't told me that, I probably wouldn't have believed it possible.

I didn't crack my knuckles. One-handed, the effectiveness of the taunt was vastly reduced, and I knew a bad cause when I saw one. Sometimes. Instead, I gripped Naruto's jacket and continued to tug him backwards despite his dragging heels.

"Naruto," I growled in his ear, "Go back to Yang Kurama before I throw you off the ship."

And before the kid could call my bluff, I let go and gave him an encouraging shove so he wouldn't see how worried I really was.

Do you need me to provide an escort? Isobu asked, since Kei seemed to be biding her time until Naruto left to draw her borrowed sword.

I'll pay you a thousand ryō to eat this kid and not let him out for an hour, was Kei's frustrated reply. While she was disciplined enough to know her duty was, in the end, to protect Naruto over all other considerations, Isobu did not see much point in her neglecting her own safety either.

Money is meaningless. Especially when I can do that for free. Yang Kurama could gripe about that when the situation was resolved in their favor and the Marines were resting eternally at the bottom of the sea. Until then, he could suffer the consequences of his negligence.

I got as far as getting Naruto against the railing before the Marine from before—the Hero they used for recruitment and Roger's old rival—made his move.

Oh sh—

"FIST OF JUSTICE!"

—it!

I dragged Isobu's chakra up, trying to redirect force like I had with Teach—

"I DON'T THINK SO!"

—At which point the old man redirected his momentum practically mid-swing and uppercutted me into the air. Isobu's chakra tails had already forced clamplike structures around the ship's upper deck and railing, and the ship shuddered under the strength we were exerting on its structure.

Not that I was hurt, but being the Bozo-the-clown in this scenario definitely hadn't been on my to-do list today. Even if I just—

—Tuck legs in, arms out, wait for the snap—

I hit Monkey D. Garp's ship square on the stern, shaping my V1 cloak into a wide, flat disk that barely cared about air resistance. The momentum I'd retained even after having to take that hit was still immense. As such, I needed to expend it somewhere and the ship deserved a little better than that. As did the Marines on it.

No, I was going to turn his ship into a catapult.

It was at this point Isobu chose to assist Kei's efforts in a manner more tangible than even the Tailed Beast cloak and, while doing his best to smile despite his lack of facial expressions, swept his left tail in an upward arc. A dozen yards away, a column of water in the shape of a scaly-mailed fist punched up from below the ship's bow, just as Kei hit the stern.

"This seems personal!" I shouted at Garp, landing on a broken railing and forcing it to stay solid through the power of wishful thinking and Isobu's strength. "Don't tell me you bought that pack of lies!"

It took Isobu a second to remember that, in fact, the world at large believed Fire Fist Ace was dead. Having never labored under that misapprehension, but being familiar with Kei's brand of protective anger, let him slot the Marine's reaction into place only after a little more thought.

Is this not the same grandfather who left Ace to imprisoned within Impel Down?

Probably. Unless Ace has another one floating around.

Then I do not see why he resents us for—

A distant cry heralded the arrival of Matatabi, Yugito, and a column of fire that could only belong to the exact pirate they were discussing.

—not killing his grandson. Had we left him there, the results would have been the same from the Marines' perspective. The only difference between the faked death we crafted and the version this Marine would have bowed to is a matter of timing.

Kei sent a shrug, either out of a lack of desire to explain or an inability to do so while being attacked, so Isobu shook his head slowly. Humans were very strange.

Yugito

This is a far cry easier than that swimming business, Matatabi told Yugito in a faintly pleased tone. Though she was far too large to be stealthy in any conventional manner, the fog laid by Isobu and Saiken had a way of compensating for that problem.

I'm just surprised it took us all this long to teach you to walk on water.

Yugito couldn't say that Kokuō's contribution to their pool of information didn't help, but it was almost pathetic that it had taken until her intervention to innovate for the sake of the Tailed Beasts. The dolphin-horse was perfectly capable of swimming, but, unlike the other Tailed Beasts with Water natures, could run even faster. It probably hadn't occurred to Saiken or Isobu to even try to walk on water, and the chakra control required to do so didn't translate between beast and host. It had something to do with the lack of a proper chakra system in a creature made of the stuff.

To think that Kokuō still wouldn't arrive for an hour. She and her partner were going to miss all the chaos they had contributed to.

"You can talk out loud if you want," Ace said from behind her.

Yugito looked back to see him scratching the base of Matatabi's ear. Though her partner didn't give a satisfied rumble out loud, it was only because the fog couldn't swallow such a loud sound any more than it could muffle cannonfire. Yugito could still feel it through their bond.

"Once we get there," Yugito replied. She tapped her sharpening fingernails against her knee, leaning back only to find that Ace had scooted closer. Her back bumped against his side, and he looked like he was fighting down a grin when she looked askance at him.

"You nervous, Yugi?" Ace asked.

"Not remotely," was her reply. At least, not about the battle.

Ultimately, she had no doubt that their side would win. Sure, she had assessed the majority of both the Whitebeard Pirates and the Marines as mere cannon fodder with delusions of competence. And sure, she had no interest in allowing a single one of the more vulnerable members of their army—or her "crew"—to be hurt more than necessary. Yugito wouldn't be surprised if, in the end, the jinchūriki ended up breaking the Marines. Making it so they'd never be a world power worth considering again.

No, she was worried more about the aftermath. Kumogakure was all too familiar with the idea of what Kei referred to as "won the war, lost the peace." The words hadn't fully clicked until Yugito thought about it, but winning overwhelmingly would do some interesting things to stability. No one, to her knowledge, was at all interested in ruling over the ashes that would be left behind. And if Yugito didn't go home, she'd have to live with the consequences of everything done here.

If she did go home, she would still have to grit her teeth and bear it. But the village would understand at least some of it, as long as angry Marines weren't crawling up onto their shores or making demands. That would bring up questions Yugito didn't think she especially wanted to answer.

Scrutiny from C, at least, would be difficult to avoid.

"Do you ever think about what'll come next?" Yugito asked, before the silence could become too comfortable.

Ace's brows furrowed for a few seconds. "In general? Or specifically about the battle?"

"Either."

Ace paused to think about it. Then, "I try to live in the moment. It's not worth getting worked up over stuff that hasn't happened yet." Ace had tucked his legs up toward his chest as he spoke, which meant Yugito could take his arm in hers. Smiling faintly, he went on, "Living with your head too far in the future or the past detracts from the now. And I want to enjoy all of this."

That was a defense mechanism if Yugito had ever heard one. But his thoughts had seemed lighter over the last week or so, though, so perhaps he had a point.

As interesting as it is to listen to the two of you dance around each other, the mist is beginning to come under attack, Matatabi reported, lowering her entire body toward the surface of the sea in preparation to spring. Isobu reported our target's location. Are you ready, dears?

When Yugito paraphrased the remark for Ace's benefit, they both got to their feet in preparation for the attack. They'd be flanking the Marines, preferably taking out Admiral Aokiji—or at the minimum terminally distracting him—before he could stall the rest of the attacking side with his ice powers. Sure, pirates could simply walk across fields of ice, but the Whitebeard ships were better off if they could maneuver. At the very least, they could be of some use attacking the ships that didn't carry admirals.

"What're you gonna do so we don't get a repeat of Banaro?" Ace asked, even as flame started to crawl up his spine.

Yugito smiled, though perhaps not pleasantly. "Fire Release is not the only card I have to play."

Ace quirked an eyebrow, an almost predatory smirk beginning to form on his lips. "I'd love to hear about it."

"My village is Kumogakure. In the Land of Lightning." Yugito clasped her hands and, as she drew them apart, white-blue sparks jumped between her fingertips to form a tiny cage of electricity. The cold glow lit the space above Matatabi's head more subtly than Ace's orange flames, but it was enough to cast their features into sharp relief. "I have options."

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

Yugito nodded as she flattened the sparks to nothing against her leg, then turned to face the impending break in the fog. She trusted Matatabi's ability to coordinate with her watery brothers, but the second their plan finally hit the enemy, there would be a reckoning.

Speaking of, Saiken's high-pitched war cry was already going. There couldn't be that much time left before the game was up.

Ace ran his fingers through Matatabi's blue-black flames, scratching a little above her golden eye. "What do you say, Matatabi? Think it's our turn to steal the show?"

Matatabi purred, sending a vibration all the way down to her paws. Yugito hid a smile as Matatabi's muscles bunched and the giant cat lowered her head in preparation to spring. Isobu and Kei had eyes on the enemy, and apparently the distribution of fog and how it was being dispersed told them exactly where Aokiji was waiting. Though the specifics were somewhat lost in translation, Yugito grasped the core of the argument.

Their target was directly ahead.

Brace! Matatabi was already in the air before Yugito could repeat her remark aloud, but by that point it hardly mattered. She skipped the formalities and flattened Ace to Matatabi's head with one arm, in case he was caught by surprise, lengthening her nails to keep him safely in place.

From his startled huff, followed by a wild laugh muffled in Matatabi's fur, it worked out for the best.

"Never thought you'd get to ride a giant cat into battle?" Yugito teased.

"Ha!" Ace planted his hands on Matatabi's head, pushing free of the flames, and said, "Since I met you, this isn't even in the top ten of the weirdest things I've lived through."

Interesting. "Sounds like a challenge."

Any further conversation was destined to be drowned out by the oncoming storm. Matatabi's leonine roar was a major factor in it, teeth bared and claws out in a spectacular threat display. Not that she needed it—but it did serve as an adequate distraction as Yugito and Ace slipped from her back and met their first ship in a blaze of glory.

Ace opened the festivities, cocking his arm back as orange flame swirled all around him. Still in mid-leap, he aimed directly down at the ship below them. "FIRE FIST!"

Yugito was never one to stay in the background. Mindful of Ace's proximity, and his admitted lack of interest in experiencing electroshock therapy, sparks flew wildly around her bandage-bound arms until she brought her hands together in a move B had dubbed "The Thunderclap." Not that it needed a name beyond, "Lightning Release: Indignation!"

Thunder boomed, cannons blew, and the Marine battleships were suddenly gone and replaced by flaming wreckage of two different types. Though she shed the lightning quickly, Yugito's grip still made Ace wince momentarily before she was twisting in midair and hurling him toward a safer spot than open water. If it so happened to be another ship, with another wooden structure ripe for destruction, that was merely a bonus. Yugito, for her part, was bashed in broadly the same direction by one of Matatabi's flailing tails, tumbling freely through the air.

She was surprised to find herself laughing, almost hysterically. This was the rush they'd been looking for. Running and hiding was all well and good, but sometimes a jinchūriki's blood sang for something far less pragmatic.

She'd missed this. And from the sound of Ace's breathless shout of fierce joy, so had he.

I have this section under control. Matatabi batted an exploding cannonball out of the air and into a Marine ship, sending the humans on it into a panic over friendly fire. Go. Fight to your heart's content.

Yugito may have smiled. She was too busy chasing after Ace to be sure, but still sent a thought directly to Matatabi: I will.

Their enemies would burn.

Thatch

Thatch peered over Marco's shoulder, looking down at the eye in the middle of the swirling mist. While clear skies directly above the Marine fleet was a blatant sign that something was screwing with the weather, Thatch was pretty sure they weren't going to guess "giant monsters with powers normally reserved for Devil Fruits" as the answer to their suspicions.

"I hope this works," Thatch muttered under his breath, though Marco had the approach covered.

Flying with the sun at their backs would ruin the vision of any Marine without observation haki who tried to look up, and Marco had used this particular tactic against them plenty of times. But not against this many.

And not while carrying someone who, at most, only had hearsay and a few days of experience to work out how his Yami Yami no Mi powers were going to interact with anyone else's skills. He'd already managed to cancel out the Devil Fruit powers belonging to Marco, Ace, Ace's kid brother (not that the guy noticed), and even Pops, though in each case it left him open to attack with whatever else they could manage. While Yugito and Ace's stories told him that Teach had been able to create suction intense enough to rip a town off its foundations in one fell swoop, but Thatch hadn't quite drummed up the recklessness to try that around people he didn't want horribly dead. As it was, he was going to get by on swordsmanship and his ability to cancel out other powers. Haki would have to make up the difference.

Marco tilted his head, half-lidded eyes focusing in Thatch's direction for just a single, uncomfortably long moment. Marco couldn't speak when in his full Zoan form, for some reason no one had ever been able to figure out, but Devil Fruits were always a grab bag of weird. The only other Zoan on the level with Marco was the Fleet Admiral, but Sengoku's other form was human anyway. Ish.

"Am I thinking too much?" Thatch asked, scratching the base of his pompadour. "Only, well, this is the first time anyone's tried taking on the Three Powers all at once. Even if Buddha isn't with them, s'far as I can tell. Makes you wonder if he just decided to fuck off into retirement after everything that's happened so far. I would."

Marco's long-suffering look was just as condescending in bird form as when he was human-shaped.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your feathers on." Thatch tried not to lean too far to one side, in case he unbalanced Marco's flight path, but a quick glance was enough to confirm what his observation haki was screaming at him. "I'd kill for a visual transponder snail right now…"

The Tailed Beasts… Well, though Thatch didn't agree with the idea that they were Sea Kings with entirely too much power, he could sort of see why people would think that way. His first impression of them had been one of silliness and joy as the group cavorted around Fishman Island without a care. Arguing with the locals like equals, pranking Marco unintentionally, chasing down jerks who were threatening their fun. All of those were perfectly respectable pirate things to do.

The Marines didn't get to see that side of them. Going by the rising smoke and the waves of terror that were even now trying to crawl up Thatch's spine, hundreds of meters away from the actual fight, he had to imagine the carnage was as bad as Ace had warned them.

Marco circled, wings beating only occasionally as the heat from Akainu's lava kept battering them with random thermals. The ocean's surface glowed in places, hissing clouds of steam boiling up from the water as Ace and Yugito added their fires to the mess. Neither of them threw off Marco's flight path nearly as much as the nastiest admiral around, but it was a bit frustrating to be tossed back onto Marco's feathery back as he maneuvered.

"See him yet?" Thatch asked, clambering back upright.

Marco, rather than answering with his voice, snapped his wings shut and threw them into a hair-raising dive with no warning whatsoever.

Thatch swallowed his shriek on the way down, though it was a close call. Marco's wings flared, both in terms of fire and in terms of flight, jerking them to a virtual stop just before they'd have hit the sea like a egg meeting a street. Two more quick flaps sent them skidding across the chaotic sea-level air, weaving between ships as death met the Marines from every direction.

Thatch only jerked once, forcing Marco to dodge a cannonball he might've shrugged off without thinking about his passenger. Not that either of them couldn't have survived, with haki, but there was such a thing as taking stupid risks even for Whitebeard Pirates.

Of course, now that they were in the thick of it, Thatch could finally see what Marco had probably spotted instantly—and just then, Kizaru's yellow blasts of pure light slammed against Isobu's thick shell as the turtle swam around the periphery of the battle. It didn't appear to bother Isobu at all, but tracing the spots in his vision back to their source let Thatch know exactly where the most apathetic admiral was standing.

The only sign anyone gave of even noticing the impending duel was when Kei appeared, surfing past on a bit of wreckage as Marco flew by, and lobbed a water dragon in the direction of Kizaru's ship before running to attend a different part of the battle. Thatch thought he saw an iron ball the size of a ship hurtling in her direction, but then Marco poured more effort into speed and made the world blur. Whatever happened next, Thatch silently wished her what luck he wasn't reserving for himself.

Because, of course, Thatch held onto Marco's glowing feathered neck for dear life. Or, considering who they were about to face, perhaps "avoiding even more imminent death" was more accurate.

"Anything to say before we do this?" Thatch asked Marco, as they drew within range of Kizaru's ship and the laser light show.

Marco didn't bother with that. Instead, he and Thatch landed squarely mid-ship in the middle of Kizaru's command and started laying waste to the Marines there. By the time Thatch was carving up the enemy with his cutlass, Marco had already un-transformed except for his wings and had already kicked two of the sailors overboard.

"Th-those are Whitebeard commanders!" wailed someone, thought Thatch wasn't really bothered to find out which of the Marines was doing the screaming.

No, he only had eyes for the Admiral staring impassively down at them from the stairs.

Thatch had never really had strong feelings about Borsalino, at least beyond the usual for World Government bullshit purveyors. While the oldest of the current crop of Admirals, the man in the yellow pinstriped suit was always the type to hang around in the background. Terminally lazy (for other people's sakes), the wielder of the Pika Pika no Mi had a reputation among pirates as something north of Akainu, but south of Aokiji. He didn't give enough of a damn about concepts such as "live capture" and "civilian casualties" for anyone's taste, but Kizaru's lack of ambition or follow-through was most of what distinguished him from the walking, talking, cigar-chomping volcano a few ships north of them.

It didn't make him any less dangerous.

"No need to worry!" said a different Marine, with a higher-pitched voice. "We have the admiral! What are some pirates in the face of one of the strongest Marines?"

Thatch didn't take any further note of him except to memorize his relative location. That was the important bit.

"Well, old man? Want to back that up?" Thatch called out, lifting his free hand to cup his mouth. He didn't think Kizaru looked impressed by two Whitebeard commanders, but then, the man never did.

Marco, of course, had already punted the offending Marine overboard without Thatch's input, but what else were brothers for? Aside from backup in the kinds of fights that could easily kill everyone involved.

Must be Tuesday, Thatch thought as Kizaru finally, finally turned in their direction.

Kizaru didn't tend to smile. The man twisted his lips like he was thinking about the question, ever indecisive, when Thatch snapped a hand out and the world turned upside-down.

Marco could adapt to the changed circumstances with his wings, but in the end gravity had everyone else by the collar. Even light.

Time to teach Kizaru that lesson.

AN: I think that'll have to tide you over for now, at least until I get my actual computer back and/or buy a new one. Yeah, the good ol' laptop is dying a fan-related death, or so it seems from the number of times it's been in the shop this month. Hopefully, it'll live and I'll be able to get back to writing in between frantic job shenanigans.

This is my first time writing a multi-unfamiliar-POV chapter of a single battle where the timeline overlaps so much. I hope it still makes sense.

Preview:

"IT'S THE RED HAIR PIRATES!"

"Oh, no. You're not that lucky. How about, oh, I don't know..."

The world glowed red, and laughter like cruel, ominous thunder rolled through the waves.

Just. ONE.