I retract my earlier statement.
Improvising was apparently something I was decidedly not good at; dare I say horrendous.
Should have figured that to be the case, really.
Being able to produce passable class presentations by the process of skimming through a few Wikipedia pages evidently didn't prepare me much when it came to altering worldviews and motivations of others through deceptive mortal combat.
Who would have thought?
Apparently not me.
Confidence was all well and good, there was a reason it was lauded both in this world and my former one, after all. But my most of the time vain baseless pride had a knack for putting me into some pretty uncomfortable situations, even by my standards.
This was one of them.
Robin having left to god knows where, and Sanji missing a leg. Either one of these would be a severe cannon divergence, and combined?
A guaranteed shit show, that's what.
I'd long since left the uninhabited island, leaving the pirate group post haste after Robin left, and reached marine HQ a few days ago. It didn't take much convincing for the first marine ship I came across to give me a ride, with the commanding officer nearly fainting at the sight of me waving from a patch of ice in the middle of the ocean, bicycle at the standby.
Speaking off, said bicycle ended up being an unexpected windfall I found as well. The miniscule power output necessary to keep a trail of ice even, constantly going and not stupendously large was a great way to train my control over the output of my devil fruit powers which I so obviously lacked; memories be damned. It certainly didn't help the matter that the former Kuzan no doubt pushed both his fruit and his bodies' ability to channel the fruit to its utmost limits, and then some. For some time, it left me feeling like a disgustingly roided up baby, all power and no control.
But, as aforementioned, I've gotten a lot better at it using the bike, the memories coming in handy to more quickly get a handle on it.
Though, it should be noted that I might have changed a few climates during my trials and errors, a panic application of my power usually the response when I messed up, not wanting to fall into the ocean. A few dozen large glaciers came into existence this way, which I honestly had no good frame of reference for how long would last. Hopefully they didn't obstruct some crucial trade routes, marine surveillance paths or the like.
If it did?
Well.
Were they going to come to my office, and complain?
To me, an Admiral?
Ha-ha.
Being so high up on the ladder in power was fun.
Still wanted to leave the marines though.
Yeah.
Not even including the element of unpredictability that's now in motion because of my actions, the Summit War of Marineford was a mess of indescribable proportions that most probably still is going to happen. Even though the Kuzan of cannon was able to come out of it relatively unscathed, recent experiences in mind, I would be a fool to think it would play out the same this time around. I could of course actively try to prevent it, but at this point I would rather try to preserve whatever semblance of predictability the world held for my safety in the coming months, which most definitely were the most turbulent in recent times.
Would preventing it possibly lead to an overall better world?
It could.
Would participating and actively trying to recreate the original events have a positive overall effect?
Probably.
Would I realistically try to achieve either?
No.
I believe myself to neither be an inherently evil nor good person. I actively do small acts of kindness as long as they are of no expense to me, and I'm capable of mustering great amounts of effort concerning matters dealing with people I hold in significant regard.
Did that mean I wanted to actively oppose the world government, knowing all the shady happenings in which they have a hand in?
No, not really.
I am a consciously selfish person. Sue me.
Still, just up and leaving the premise for a lengthy amount of time without telling anybody wouldn't really be appropriate either. It would raise more than a fair share of suspicion, and it would actively gain me enemies within the world government and marines. That was a big no-no.
That being the case, since arriving to HQ, I'd gone through all the painstaking effort and procedures necessary required to meet the most prestigious person inside the marines, the fleet Admiral, Sengoku, The Buddha. Leader of the organization which in practice functions as the muscles of the world government, the group which had a chokehold on the majority of the world.
All of this was actually quite the hurdle for most officers within the marines, most requests of audience needing one to two weeks of being processed, after which it was uncertain if it would be granted at all, and even then, it could require a time period of months to actually be realized.
Me though?
A knock on the door was all it required, if even that.
Which is how I found myself sitting face to face with the living marine legend in a divinely comfortable couch.
God, I was going to miss this part of the job so much.
It was a luxurious office by anyone's standard, much like my own, though with a few personalization differences. Though as with them both, it was predominantly occupied by sleek, high end wooden furniture exclusively in the colors of white and blue.
As for the man himself, he had an odd look on his face, face scrunched up in obvious distaste.
"Kuzan."
I raised my head from the base of my palm as he called my name, head ringing all the while.
"Yes, sir." I call back at him, a muted smile present on my lips.
That was the wrong answer, apparently, Sengoku's face distorting through a multitude of emotion, starting with anger, and ending at worry.
"You reek of alcohol. I haven't seen you like this since Zephyrs' retirement." He decided to say, voice even.
"Is that so." I answered. Whether it was a question or statement, I wasn't sure.
That was another thing.
I was of the opinion that both me and Kuzan were humans, people, despite our not often fluctuating emotions.
And whatever potential amalgamation of us certainly was too.
I would know.
That being the case, it should almost be expected that the entirety of my situation would induce quite the significant amount of stress.
Which I had a bad habit of dealing with from my past life.
Namely, drinking.
Nicely put, I was hobby drinker.
I gathered most would probably call me an alcoholic though.
Hmm.
I've mostly grown past it, but I relapse every now and then, despite my best efforts. Now was such a time.
Ignoring the mess that was my existence in and of itself, every time I would imagine the result of my every action and inaction, I would tense up. It was a strange feeling, knowing every piece on the chess board without being sure what move it would do- could do, and what consequences it would have down the line.
Only a complete sociopath would be able to shrug of the implications like they were nothing.
Yet, I was an honest man, with myself if no one else, and knew that my life was paramount.
The War was on the horizon, despite few people knowing yet. It was hard to guess how long it would take for the world government, and by extension marines to clamp down protectively over any and all resources it would need. If I remembered correctly, it was vice-admirals which were sent gather the Warlords, even the unruly ones, like Boa Hancock, which predictably needed either special circumstances or overwhelming force to secure them to comply. By that point, the admirals were most likely holed up securely within HQ, dissuading any and all attempts to pre-emptively strike at their greatest battle force.
Which is why I needed to leave, pronto.
One could call my approach reckless, hasty, and not well planned out. Worst of all, it would be a fair assessment, too.
Still, inaction wasn't an option either, because of the aforementioned reasons. It was now or never.
Adopting a depressingly familiar movement, the one which heralded the titanic mess my entry into this world was, I slowly raised a single finger into the air, my face turning solemn with the movement.
"We're both men who'd rather cut to the chase, Sengoku, so I'll be upfront with you. I've gotten orders from up above. I am to leave public view indefinitely to perform them."
Leading the marines was a thankless job, and most often a lonely one as well.
As its official zenith, he could suffer no weakness in the form of civilian relations, and he could have no equal. He was to be prime, spotless and a visage all younger generations of marines should strive towards becoming even a fraction of.
He had a heavy reputation, forged through many battles during his tenure of that which was called the The Great Age of Pirates. A reputation he had to wield actively to the masses, while still remaining unapproachable, infallible. Starting sometime in the last decade, he had begun to feel his figure become larger than the life it held. There existed very few people he felt a genuine connection and comradery to anymore, jaded as he had become in his later years. The number dwindled, most taken by age, others, pirates. Remaining was the buffoon Garp, the ever lovely Tsuru-
And Kuzan.
Admiral Kuzan, often called by the epithet Aokiji, was one such person.
Which was why it incensed him so that the government had apparently decided to further involve the man in more shady dealings.
Few high-ranking officers remained untainted from their touch, but Sengoku thought- no, knew that Kuzan had given his due, and then some. He had highly powerful and versatile abilities, which were constantly taken use of during his earlier years in the marines. Sengoku had thought him untouchable as he was, a bright beacon in the marines as an admiral, cherished among all but a few bitter old men, but it turned out not to be the case.
"Is that so?" He decided to say, intentionally mirroring Kuzan's own comment only moments prior. Though seemingly unperturbed, Sengoku had gained a golden sheen to his eye, the only indication of the raging Buddha within.
Close companions as they were few words were needed to communicate properly, hidden meanings within or not.
It was a good thing too, as he had recently started suspecting that his office had been bugged, his every movement and speech being monitored by the government. He had no concrete proof, and was always subtly looking for any, as it never hurt to be on the safe side.
They had taught him as much.
"Ha-ha." Kuzan chuckled, but unsurprisingly, Sengoku didn't sense a smidge of mirth within.
Seeing a dead end of questioning when presented with one, Sengoku changed route.
"Estimated length of leave?"
"Unknown."
"Sea of Destination?"
"Undisclosable."
"Paradise or New world?"
"Undisclosable."
"Nature of the mission?"
"Undisclosable. Subject to change."
Sengoku damn well near punched the man in front of him out of frustration, the entirety of his body now leaking out a subtle color of gold, the only outwards indication of his slipping patience.
He knew however, that his current anger was misplaced, outrageously so even. Kuzan was more of a victim than he, his pale countenance and drunken form obviously in a state of great misery.
Yet, despite the obvious signals of distress his friend was sending him, he hadn't the faintest idea of how he could go about helping him.
A figure larger than life indeed.
The Buddha.
Powerless to help one of his few remaining friends.
Suddenly, a harsh knock resounded throughout the room. Moments later, a black-haired suit clad man entered the room, not bothering to pay any respect to his office in the process.
Sengoku would have called the man unremarkable, only out of many similar figures making up the grunt force of the government.
Fact was however, that he found them astounding, in how lacking each and every one of them proved to be in empathy. He likened their look as a god would gaze at a human, a human would an animal, and an animal would prey.
Disgusting.
"Admiral Aokiji. You have been summoned. You will come. Now."
Sengoku turned towards Kuzan, hoping to gleam his thoughts, ready to paste the demon wearing the guise of a human into a smear of blood on the wall given the right sign.
No such discomfort was shown however, Kuzan's features turning neutral as he mechanically made to move after the government operative.
Like a man walking towards his own execution.
Why did it feel like a goodbye?
Kuzan had sought him out, clearly in need of help, but he could do naught but watch as the door closed behind him, the tall, strong and reliable form of his favored admiral and friend disappearing from view.
Sengoku once more evaluated the value of continuing this farce of peace and justice the government had forced over the world, cloaked in its lies and deceits.
One thing had come out of this however, though if it was a good or bad, was hard to say at the time.
He was indeed being monitored.
The timing of the agent was too perfect for anything else to be the case, probably sprinting over as soon as Kuzan made mention of his mission.
This day, he clearly felt his lack of agency.
Frankly, it didn't exist, practically powerless from those above him in the hierarchy.
Neither would they let him have it if he asked.
So, he would simply have to create it himself.
The framework had been laid out long ago, but he had needed a push.
Well, he had gotten it.
SWORD was to start its operations.
Right.
This.
Instant.
Thank you all for the great response through favourites, follows and not least of all reviews! Got a big over-excited, so this second chapter ended up coming out a lot earlier than I had originally Imagined. Hopefully most of you can get behind the direction I've mapped out for the story in this chapter. If not, oh well. =)
Thanks for reading, cheers.