Disclaimer: The characters mentioned herein are not my property. I do not own them. Copyright belongs to the copyright owners.
Uzumaki Himawari, freshly appointed Marine commodore of the 99th Division, looked out towards the horizon from her command ship.
If she could say so herself, the W.G.S. Hakuja was a complete work of art. Now, most marine ships weren't assigned names; the admirals often found it such a trivial issue to care to name their vessels. Especially when most of the time you would find them lounging at Marine HQ merely awaiting orders for their next deployment at the behest of the Fleet Admiral or the Five Elders of the World Government. But Himawari, if you asked her, would never stoop to dismissing her lovely ships to the same treatment as those run-of-the-mill standard Marine battleships of the Grand Line. Never. It was certainly an open secret amongst the crew members of the Hakuja that their ship was special. After all, how on earth could you explain the multiple rocket launchers affixed to the deck?
And to think all it cost her was an hour of continuing to bombard Sengoku with continued puppy-eyes to just please, please, please let her modify her precious vessel for the sake of enforcing justice – and Sengoku was certainly no fool. He knew that Himawari, when insistent on something that she wanted, would stop at nothing to get it. It would be better, he realised, to quickly cave in and let her do as she pleased regarding how her unit was organised. Certainly, her marines were some of the finest he had the pleasure seeing stationed outside of either half of the Grand Line.
The Hakuja moreover lacked sails; in place of the towering masts often commonplace on standard Marine vessels, you would find perhaps an array of three funnels arranged onto the top of a grey superstructure mounted atop of the ship's deck. Himawari, leaning onto the railings fixed to the corridor just outside the part of the superstructure serving as the ship's command centre, wind blowing into her face and letting her indigo hair, usually tied into an elegant ponytail, freely flutter with the breeze and her marine coat. Beneath it, her dulled breast-plate and camo-patterned trousers, to her, were enough for the occasion.
She sharply turned her head around as she heard the click-clack of geta clank on the steel-plated upper deck. Recognising the man approaching, she quickly snapped to attention and gave a salute.
He was a tall man, easily towering over Himawari in height, yet not overly so, rather being just tall enough that he had to duck through the door to reach her. Aside from the flamboyant wisteria yukata the man was wearing beneath his own marine coat, perhaps, Himawari recalled yet again, what was most unnerving about this man was the dual scars on his face, arranged into a damning 'X' carved through his eyes. Yet for his lack of vision, he never failed to miss a step, nor did he struggle to find his way. In his hands he carried a wooden cane he would occasionally use to tap-tap-tap around him, though he seemed to not need it for any purpose. Certainly, he looked grizzled – grizzled, but not old, or overtly so, at least; though his hairs were still black, the wrinkled face and full beard gave the immediate impression that age was catching up to the man.
"Vice-Admiral Issho," Himawari addressed the newcomer.
"At ease, Commodore." Replied the vice-admiral, motioning for Himawari to relax. Himawari always found the vice-admiral to be an individual she could easily relate to within the Navy and a higher-ranked officer whom she felt safe with. Of the three admirals, Sakazuki was perhaps the one whom drove Himawari mad the most. Certainly, sensei was zealous; overly so in his desire to see the enforcement of 'Thorough Justice.' Could such an execution of "Justice" truly occur? Himawari refused to believe it could not, though she realised long before that Admiral Akainu's perception of 'Justice' was but one born of dogmatic fervour in lieu of realistic goals. Kuzan, in her view, was no better either; he was simply too lazy to do anything. Borsalino was the only admiral she could perhaps tolerate, and only for relatively short periods of time. Though the two held no animosity for one another, that was all there was; just as there was no mutual loathing, nor was there any friendship involved between the two.
Vice-admiral Garp was perhaps the craziest man to ever hold such a prestigious role in the Marines' war apparatus. She could not see why on earth he hadn't been court-marshalled for all the bizarre and outrageous stunts that old geezer pulled on a regular basis. Although he too, like her, loathed the direction the World Government was taking the Marines towards, she has had enough of his brazen attitude. Could that man not learn subtlety? Soon, even Sengoku would be infected by his madness! Where would she turn to find refuge then?
Then, there was her father.
Her father, who was so close, yet so far away.
Vice-admiral Uzumaki Naruto.
She sighed as her thoughts rested on her father, whom she hadn't seen in just over a year now.
Not since that gruelling campaign against Big Mom at Totto land.
Oh, certainly, that campaign was a brutal conflict which had the world holding its breath, eagerly anticipating the direction which the destiny of the Four Blues and the Grand Line would move towards. However, the situation did not seem to greatly change at all. Himawari certainly considered any outcome from that accursed war to be non-existent. Yes, her father executed Big Mom. And so, what?
Totto land never saw liberation. And her father had to return to attempt to reduce the magnitude of his mess.
There were no longer four emperors of the sea; Charlotte Linlin's legacy was yet to be succeeded, however, Totto land crawled with an abundance of those accursed dogs, skulking, prowling, seeking to re-emerge from the bloodbath enveloping Big Mom's former fiefdom to reclaim her hold on the hearts of feeble men. Perhaps the most famous were said to be the Totto Rando no Kotaishi Sannin, the three crown princes of Totto Land, Big Mom's most influential children and Sweet Commanders.
Charlotte Katakuri, supported by his brothers Daifuku and Oven, was the most powerful of the three remnants of Big Mom's crew. Yet Himawari understood that Charlotte Cracker was no slouch either, having recruited Charlotte Perospero to his cause, whilst Charlotte Smoothie made sure to ally with her older sister Compote in her attempt to seize power.
Looking at the situation, she sullenly mused, it feels realistic, it's more likely than not, that of course she wouldn't see him in quite a long time; he's always assigned to postings and missions to be conducted in the Grand Line, whilst she's always in either of the Four Blue Seas. Maybe, her mind whispered, this was Sengoku's petty revenge, sending her, a Marine officer from Headquarters, experienced veteran of the Grand Line, to patrol the waters of the Blues, to be away from her family.
Still, however, he was a far cry from the vibrant father he seemingly used to be, the passionate, idealistic beacon in the darkest of nights.
Not since her brother Boruto decided to leave the family behind and become a pirate.
Himawari gnashed her teeth as she thought of her brother…no, he is no longer her brother, she thought. That man stopped being my brother when he shattered father's heart.
"You seem unnaturally stressed." Vice-admiral Issho's voice rang out, snapping Himawari out of her train of thoughts.
"I'm fine, Sir." Himawari bit back. Although the vice-admiral was certainly calm enough and kind enough to worry about her, she could not help but let her bitterness leak out from her voice. How could she forget? Mother died because of that day.
"If you say so," Issho replied calmly. She certainly was not alright, but he would give her time. Whatever happened to Himawari must certainly be profoundly tragic, he mused. He would not needlessly pry into it – at least not yet. He would, however, hate to lose an extremely talented young officer like her if her demons inhibited her from executing her duties flawlessly. Even more so a fellow comrade who shared with him a mutual disgust towards the actions of the World Government's duplicity and atrocities it committed against innocent civilians. Who else in the Marines would continue to follow a 'Moral Justice', instead of letting the dogmatic doctrine of 'Absolute Justice' come to dominate the minds of the Marines?
"You have new orders," he continued. Himawari merely raised an eyebrow.
"Where am I being reassigned this time?" she questioned.
"Paradise." Issho curtly answered. "Your ship's modifications have been added onto two new ships to be assigned under your command," he continued, winking. Himawari thought of glaring at him in response, yet that was not necessary, she realised. He wouldn't notice the nuances within that glare and its significance would diminish greatly as a result. Letting out yet another sigh, she turned around and began to stride towards the command tower's cabin.
It was quite spacious, yet somehow the cluttering of haphazardly discarded nautical maps, each looking quite crumpled and crinkled, stained light ochre scattered around the central circular table gave off the perception that you could almost feel claustrophobic entering into the room. Embedded into the worn yet freshly polished, waxy surface of the table's centre were three spheres of glass the size, perhaps, of a human head. Suspended in each of them was a singular needle, all of them pointing towards the same direction.
Stepping into the cabin whilst ducking his large frame underneath, Issho let out another chuckle. "You've done a good job in your years of service." He complimented. "A good representation of what justice should be."
"Vice-admiral Issho," she replied disdainfully, "I'm far from a saint. Especially when it comes to dealing with pirates."
"That may be so," Issho let out a sigh as he tightly gripped his cane, "however, you are one of very few marines who do not let their personal integrity die for the sake of absolute justice. Nor do you blindly follow the whims of the World Government into utmost folly."
"Careful, vice-admiral. The walls may have ears."
"You know as well as I, Commodore, that your father would agree with what I say."
Himawari angrily stalked off from the table that she had been standing next to upon hearing those words. Clenching her fist, she let out a growl of frustration as she neared the second exit of the cabin, leading towards the Hakuja's main deck. Immediately, the air around the fit began to shimmer as it began to glow with the intensity of a thousand suns. Issho merely turned his head towards the display of Himawari's powers with amusement. She was very powerful – perhaps the might of the Hoshi-Hoshi no Mi (Star-Star fruit) would have the potential to surpass the quakes of Whitebeard; he could not tell, at least not yet. However, he would immediately be more concerned that her rage would not take down themselves and the ship with it. For he too was an eater of the mystical Devil fruits – legendary fruits embodying mystical powers at the cost of the eater's ability to swim in the unforgiving sea. Everyone on the Grand Line and their mother seemed to have in their possession one such mystical item. His own Zushi-Zushi no Mi (Stomp-Stomp) was a fruit of immeasurable power, affording himself near-absolute jurisdiction over gravity.
"Do you know why I joined the Marines, as flawed as they are, Vice-admiral?" Himawari finally asked in a bare whisper as she let her power dissipate, though she still dared not look at the hulking figure behind her.
"I do not," Issho acknowledged as he reached into his yukata with one of his arms, wrapped in white bandages criss-crossed throughout the forearm, "but certainly providence would not have had you join the Marines without a greater calling for you to accomplish."
He eventually took out his hand, opening it to reveal a plain die before he began idly tossing it up and down.
"I had never thought of giving my life to the service of the World Government. I had wanted to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere of my homeland, to leisurely pick and choose a career for myself. Did you know, Vice-Admiral, that I loved painting?" Issho heard her voice emanating, carrying with it a great weight, as if the words were quite significant.
"Judging by the compliments towards the murals you painted on the ship, I suppose all your soldiers do as well." He chuckled as his head bowed and let out a sigh. "A pity, however, that I cannot see it." His voice was quite melodic, yet intertwined with a tang of nostalgia, and perhaps regret, as he opened his eyes to reveal eyes a dull white, however full of depth, constraining the great strength roaring and crashing like great waves, up and down. "Do you remember, Commodore Uzumaki? Why I gouged out my eyes?"
Himawari stood there for a moment, a poignant pause, still not looking at the senior vice-admiral. "How could I forget, Issho-sensei?" She stopped again. "There are many filthy things in this world you would rather not look at."
"Perhaps, however, I gambled too hastily," Issho replied as he continued to toss the die. "There are beautiful things to look at in this world as well. The kindness of a poor, destitute man. The camaraderie within a troop of orphans, left to rot by the world around them. And the heart of a Marine dedicated towards true justice. I cannot see you, commodore, nor the immediate fruits of your labour. But let me understand the reason that it is you who providence has bet on to inspire a great upheaval in this place."
"My brother." Himawari finally bit out, as the die suddenly landed onto the table, rolling until gently clink, clink onto the spheres embedded into its centre. "He spat on father's trust. Destroyed my family and countless others. Yet father refuses to strike him down! Out of some misplaced sense of familial love. Whilst others suffer from our inaction!"
She turned around to look at Issho's closed eyes. "He's my responsibility. As are the remaining pirate scum of the seas, who circle like prowling lions, ready to devour the innocent victims, unable to fight back against their tyranny." Her voice seemed to pick up a weight to it. "Vice-admiral, Uzumaki Boruto shall not escape me for long."
"Then surely there must be great challenges ahead of you," Issho laughed as he saw the die land on the red one, the one face coloured vermillion whilst all the others were midnight black. "Uzumaki Boruto has been reported to have disappeared some many years ago."
The air around Himawari itself began to appear as a shimmer, and a scowl appeared on her face. Not a nice, cute scowl accentuated by the rather dainty pairs of whiskers adorning her pale sapphire eyes. Her scowl was much fiercer; it evoked the feelings of a predator ready to strike at any moment.
"He's definitely planning something. He always is. Boruto was always a good strategist. Never empathetic to the plights of others, but always a superb strategist."
"Or it could be that he has simply folded for now."
"Hardly. I know that bastard well. Giving up isn't his style at all." Her voice felt quite incomplete. Though it was distinct enough and rang throughout the cabin even at the barest of whispers, it emanated a soulless feeling. As if that passion which was inherent in the song of the sounds were ripped violently from it, rattling the souls of those in the vicinity of the siren's song. Agony burned within Himawari. What exactly would cause her brother, an accomplished pirate in his own right, to simply disappear from the greatest theatre for a pirate? To abandon his dreams to become the greatest pirate throughout the world? To no longer seek the One Piece?
Uzumaki Boruto was no Edward Newgate. For all that damned Whitebeard being a persistent thorn in the Marines' side, Himawari seethed, at least the man knew to value family, something that Boruto, she reminded herself, most certainly lacked. All Boruto wanted was glory. All Boruto wanted was power. All Boruto wanted was a legacy. What was it to him to step over the remnants of their shattered family, if he could become something other than 'Vice-admiral Uzumaki's son'? And Himawari would seek out justice – justice for her family, justice for the unwilling victims of his selfishness and greed, justice for the innocent afflicted by the scourge of the Uzumaki family.
Issho took back the die, returning it into the folds of his yukata, before clasping his cane with both hands, one at the end and the other in the middle, suddenly pulling his arms away from each other. The cane came apart to reveal a glinting blade, with a slightly curved edge and very unassuming hamon which resembled, upon closer inspection, pulsating waves crashing against rock faces. Drawing the sword fully from its tsue concealment, before settling himself into a semi-relaxed stance with his blade to his side, he finally spoke again.
"You're expected to move out in three days." As he took in a deep breath, he began again, "however, I have a favour to ask you. Let me come with you for the duration of your assignment."
"You're my superior, vice-admiral." Himawari asked in deadpan. "Why would you need to ask for my permission?"
"Sengoku has decided not to yet provide me with an assignment or objective for now." Issho chuckled as he re-opened his eyes. Pure white irises gazed into the sapphire ones of Himawari. "Besides, I believe that the fate of the status quo, as it is, rests on your shoulders. Gahahahaha! To think that the one to bring the stone sending ripples into this system is you! Let me come with you, then, to fight! For a true and moral justice."
Pausing for a moment, Himawari closed her eyes in response. Suddenly, a bright light, the same as the one which shone from the clenched fist sometime prior, covered her entire left cheek for some five seconds before fading out, revealing a series of multiple folds and contours juxtaposed with the unblemished skin on the other side of her face. Pale, alabaster skin began to recede as lines of striped flesh, tainted with dull grey specks and spots of grainy black began to creep throughout the right half of her face. Moreover, her left eye seemed to be no longer a vibrant blue, but a glowing white, with the pupil and iris seemingly merged with one another. To Issho, it felt like a sun was located within her eye socket.
"Very well, then." Himawari finally spoke after her transformation, her voice cold, lacking any warmth to it. "But when Boruto comes back, he's mine. I don't care what Sengoku says this time."
Issho merely grunted, nodding his head. Himawari turned around, striding through the cabin's door onto the main deck, where four other individuals clad in marine coats waited.
The first was a tall man, about perhaps three heads shorter than Issho, who exuded an atmosphere of passion and fiery determination. One could perhaps see it in his attire, for underneath his marine coat, atop his torso, he wore naught save for a dark blue jacket which failed to cover up his chest, exposing his prominent muscles for the world to gaze upon. How could the jacket cover it anyway, one would think, for his build was quite muscular, arms thick like tree trunks. Aside from his jacket, most distinctive was his white hair, peeking out little by little underneath the standard white cap with "MARINE" emblazoned on it, or maybe it was the scar running from his right eye, ending at his sideburns; or perhaps it were his dark eyes accompanied by a conspicuous lack of eyebrows.
Next to him was a much shorter woman, with the same white hair, although it was kept quite short, extending only to the base of her neck. However, unlike the more casual attire of the large man, her dress seemed to give her a regal, sophisticated air; her sky-blue suit jacket, worn underneath her heavy marine one, adorned with tie and paler blue dress shirt complemented the dress pants of similar hue and striped pattern running downwards. She could be said to be quite beautiful, and this beauty was reflected in her eyes, the vivid, bright blue not unlike Himawari's own, as well as her face, reflecting a softness so delicate and prized throughout the harsh seas of the world.
Towards her left stood a taller man, perhaps closer to Himawari's own height, and certainly much shorter than the much larger figure away from him. His complexion was of a deathly pallor, and his eyes contained only a uniform dulled grey-green. Most unnerving, perhaps, was the lack of any pupil within his eyes. Nestled in his bleached blonde hair was a horizontal cloth with a metal plate gleaming in the sunlight, the glaring light only concealing the etched "MARINE" finely carved into the metal. Underneath his marine coat, which just met his hair arranged in a short ponytail, he wore a dark suit, like the colour of the night, collarless; the zipper's illumination clashing greatly against its surroundings. On the suit was a leather strap, with no indication of visible wear, holding to his back a plain sword, held in a straight scabbard which did not seem to reflect any light, for there was no gloss on it. Underneath his suit, one may find the hints of a light wisteria shirt peeking out, along with mesh armour, before being hidden again by pants matching his suit.
Finally, next to Himawari's right, and the left of the pale marine officer, stood another man of similar height and build. His skin was not unlike his companion, being of the same shade. Yet that was perhaps where the similarities ended, for his hair looked to be quite unnatural. Unlike Himawari's dark, indigo hair, his was a pale blue, like the sky, clipped and shorter than the man by his right, however, not overly so, as the hair atop his head still extended in multiple various directions. Quite unsettling, however, were his eyes' dull brownish yellow colour, giving them the feel and aura of a predator, ready to pounce on its prey. Unlike the other individuals on the deck, however, his marine coat was not draped over his arms and back. Rather, he eschewed the coat, in lieu of a much shorter white tunic with "Justice" in large, black kanji on the back. Its pockets – two near the breast, two flanking the lower tunic – were fastened with ornate buttons with the design of a chrysanthemum etched into each button. At the waist, the tunic was fastened with a thick, khaki-grey belt, whilst he accompanied the tunic with a pair of – ironically named – navy pants. To complete his attire, he wore black, long fingerless gloves on his hands, resting on his crossed arms.
When the four saw the vice-admiral following Himawari out of the cabin, they quickly snapped their arms to the sides, and gave a hasty salute. Issho merely saluted back, waving them aside, before greeting them with a booming laugh.
"It is good to meet with you all!" He exclaimed after laughing. "Commodore, I see that you have gathered a crew of dependable young marines." He turned to Himawari. "Please introduce them to me. I confess that I have not the opportunity to know every Marine officer by Haki nor by feel, and most of all not by sight! Gahahahahaha!"
The officer to Himawari's right let out a small smile as his eyes rose, closed. "I am Captain Mitsuki, Vice-Admiral," he paused, before opening his eyes again, speaking in his cheerful yet calm voice. "This here is –"
"I can speak for myself, Mitsuki" cut in the one to his right, his eyes narrowed, and mouth set in an annoyed frown. "Commander Yamanaka Inojin, and the second-in-command of this guy right here," he finished, jabbing his finger in Mitsuki's direction, to which he let out another smile.
"I'm Lisanna Strauss!" The lone female exclaimed. "It's good to see you, vice-admiral!"
"I wish I could say the same, Gahahahaha!"
"Issho…." Himawari cut in, irate.
"Gahaha! Forgive me. I could not resist the lure of the pot."
"Ugh…" Himawari put her palm unto her face.
"And her rank...?" Issho trailed off questioningly.
"She's a commander. Like Inojin." Himawari bit out.
Issho, reaching out through his senses, felt the presence of the final officer, who felt akin to a wild, raging beast contained in a docile, controlled man. "And you are?" He inquired.
"I am Elfman Strauss!" The muscular marine officer responded with great vigour. "And as a man, I have the privilege to serve as a Marine captain!"
"This idiot is my second-in-command overall." Himawari pointed at Elfman.
"And I am a man for it! A man never backs down from his duty! That is "Manly Justice!" Where justice is at the heart of all who are manly!"
The vice-admiral tapped his swordstick on the deck as he let out another laugh. "Well, I am vice-admiral Issho. I will be joining you for this time until I deem otherwise." He paused. "However, since providence has hedged its bets on your commodore here, she will still be in command; I shall only intervene in cases of extreme emergency."
"That is acceptable." Mitsuki answered him. The other three officers nodded in agreement.
Himawari sighed. Time to conduct business before it was too late. "Elfman! Mitsuki!" She shouted, snapping the four officers all to attention, as the two aforementioned captains held a salute.
"We've been given two ships for our division." She began. "They have been fitted as per the modifications of the Hakuja. Elfman, Mitsuki, you'll be in command of each ship. Get your men situated and accustomed to their new stations. We'll be setting out for Sabaody archipelago soon."
Both Elfman and Mitsuki grunted, before moving to disembark from the ship. However, just as they moved one step, they were interrupted. "Wait!" Lisanna spoke up. "Don't our two other ships need a name as well?"
Himawari turned to Lisanna, who did not look away, for she was no stranger to such a look, nor did she fear her superior's half-scarred face. "You are correct, Lisanna, but would it not be better for Elfman and Mitsuki to name their ships themselves?"
Lisanna happily nodded in acknowledgement, before suddenly her form began to change and shift in front of the other Marine officers. Where instead of the young female officer with marine coat and sky-blue suit, now stood a majestic bird with glowing plumage, coloured a bright, vibrant orange, akin to flame, with tongues of fire dancing off the feathers of the large avian. Her wings were quite large, and when fully extended, reached perhaps about five metres from wing tip to wing tip. The beak was quite slender, curved sharply at the tip, whilst its feathers at the head were arranged quite like a pattern not dissimilar to her own white hair. With a majestic cry, the phoenix launched itself into the air, flapping its wings up and down before gliding onto the main deck of the marine battleship docked to the W.G.S Hakuja's left.
As Elfman, Mitsuki and Inojin moved to take up their command posts, Issho tapped his swordstick twice on the deck. "Commodore," he softly spoke, "I had thought that the Tori Tori no Mi, Model: Phoenix was consumed by Marco of the Whitebeards."
"Of course, you could sense her form change through your Haki," Himawari muttered.
Issho merely smiled.
"Lisanna ate nothing of the sort. Her Doubu Doubu no Mi (Animal-Animal Fruit) is no normal fruit. To be able to take the form of any animal, save perhaps the great beasts of this world…she is no ordinary marine, that is for sure."
"It seems you have a very good eye for selecting your officers." Issho spoke merrily. "However, I must ask…why Sabaody archipelago to start with, out of all the locations in the Grand Line?"
Himawari's right eye, upon her hearing Issho's question, began to take on the appearance of her left; the blue iris receeded, being replaced with a dull white, which then began to shimmer and hum with the light not unlike a white sun. Her lips rose up in a grin, but not one of mirth. Even Issho felt unsettled as Himawari's voice began to take a demented tone.
"Isn't it obvious, vice-admiral? I need to take out the trash first."