Sabo groaned at the knocking on his door. Tried to get up from his position facedown on his pillow. Quickly gave up. What time was it? He'd crashed after Lucci had left. Crud. He would be behind in his work.
The knocking came again. It was either the Head Maid or one of the stewards. Perhaps it hadn't been that long - no, he shouldn't try to fool himself. Yes, there was light coming through the porthole. Unfortunately he was pretty sure from the stiffness in his wounded body that it was the next morning rather than the day's evening.
"Come in," Sabo called, and instantly regretted how weak his voice came out. Crap. Crap. Crap. He had to get himself together.
The Head Maid entered with a stack of reports and one red memo. A summons from their master.
Damn. Why did he ache so much? Had it been that long since he was last whipped? And Lucci had taken it easy on him too.
The older woman's eyes widened, then glanced away in embarrassment. Knowing exactly why the Chief of Staff would still be in bed. Sleeping belly down and shirtless, bandages unable to be hidden even with the blanket. After the pirate attack yesterday.
(Her back bore scarred stripes as well.)
"I apologize… for my appearance," grunted Sabo, managing to lever himself onto his elbows. "When is the summons?"
The Head Maid hesitated. Set the stack of reports on his desk. "I will relay your apologies, Chief of Staff. You were unable to -"
"Absolutely not. When?" His voice didn't crack and he managed to keep it pitched moderately. He could do this.
"Fifteen minutes. Breakfast."
Sabo froze in horror. There was absolutely no way he'd be able to get dressed and to the dining hall in time. It would take him ten minutes to just get out of bed. And if he couldn't lift his arms, which was common after punishments, how would he …?
It wasn't possible.
Which meant he'd be punished again. On top of this last one.
He was going to be bedridden after all. Maybe even taken to the infirmary.
He couldn't help raising a hand to cover his mouth. Forced himself not to dry heave.
"Chief?" The older woman hesitated before switching tones. "… Sabo?"
The use of his name broke him out of his dizzy spell. The Head Maid had never addressed him by anything but his title.
"I can help," she said, starting a bit softly but gaining strength as she continued on. "I'm in charge of dressing Master and visiting royalty. I can handle men's formalwear. If I get you dressed, do you think you can handle the rest?"
The boy turned shocked but genuinely grateful eyes towards her. Knowing every second was precious and they didn't have time to waste if he was going to make his summons on time. "Thank you, Head Maid."
She tried a smile. It felt strange and foreign after so many years of solemnity. "Mara."
And the boy broke into a genuine smile that made him look exactly his age. "Mara," he repeated.
She helped the boy to maneuver himself into a sitting position, then completely took over while he worked his muscles into being able to stand and walk. He was still trembling slightly by the time she was setting his top hat in place and moving onto his jewelry. It wasn't visible unless you knew to look, but there was no way he would've been able to handle buttons or clasps.
He was sweating. She quickly powdered his face for him. There was no time to hide the eye bags or stress veins with concealer, or add any touches of rouge to brighten up his sickly complexion, but it would do for breakfast.
He was as good as he was going to get while still having time to get to the dining hall. He took a deep breath, drawing himself up as tall and straight as he could. He was already sweating again at his hairline, but the shadow of his hat disguised it well enough. Closed his eyes as he gathered his Chief of Staff mask together.
"I owe you," he whispered. "I will return the favor."
Because there absolutely would be a day when she would need his help. Like him, she was not well-liked by those beneath her. She had to be strict and cold and professional at all times or else. There was little to no kindness in their lives. She'd spent decades just trying to stay alive and keep those under her likewise. If they hated her for it, fine, but they survived.
Maybe it was time for a change. For a tidbit of trust. Of kindness. Of exchange, not for gain, but to lessen the load on both of them.
"You will," she whispered in return, accepting the offer for what it was. And feeling a swell of… of pride. In herself. For doing the right thing. It felt right to help instead of stand aside, something she hadn't tried in years. Suddenly the world wasn't quite so monotone.
Suddenly they weren't just slaves. They were people.
Garp was honestly stunned and sick. Even after a long talk with Senny, who had pretty much just told him that's the way CP and Celestial Dragons did things. It didn't matter how good you were at your job. If something went wrong, someone had to take the fall.
But that didn't make sense. It wasn't right.
It wasn't justice.
Sabo's security plans had been immaculate. Sabo had single-handedly kept casualties to a minimum that even impressed Garp. If this had been the Marines, he'd be getting a promotion. He'd be lauded as a hero. His fellow Marines clapping him on the back and thanking him for saving their lives. Those under him saluting him with stars in their eyes.
Instead Sabo had been tortured because it was somehow his fault that pirates had made a suicide raid on a Celestial Dragon's ship.
Garp was no fool. He knew his grandson was suffering. Probably should be in bed - would be, on any Marine ship. (Not that this would happen on a Marine ship. Senny did not allow torture for punishment or training, had enacted that ruling immediately on becoming Fleet Admiral.) He knew Sabo was struggling just to remain standing at his master's right hand through breakfast.
It would be obvious to anyone with military or martial training. The way Sabo's shoulders were pulled back, one hand gripping the other's wrist behind him, forcefully pinning his spine straight. His feet planted firmly just a touch more than shoulder width apart, lowering his center of gravity to help his unsteady balance. Chin ducked just so to subconsciously guard his collared neck, eyes shaded by the brim of his hat, only somewhat disguising the glaze of strain.
Usually Sabo had an air of effortless elegance about him as he attended to his duties. He was trying for the usual mask today, and probably succeeding with Jalmack and the other slaves, but there was no way any of the Marines or CP Agents were fooled.
None of Cipher Pole stationed around the room looked in the least surprised. Even as Garp saw the other Marines on guard duty exchange uncomfortable glances.
It was wrong. It was disrespectful to treat a skilled fighter so. One who had undoubtedly saved many lives the day before. Everything in Garp screamed at the unfairness of it all.
(This kind of thing was what Sengoku and he had sworn to end decades ago.)
Unfortunately Garp had the 'honor' of sitting at the Celestial Dragon's table as the representative of the Marines. Lucci was also there as representative for Cipher Pole. Sabo was often there as well, though he didn't eat with them. Just stood there quietly.
Garp didn't want to think too much about why Jalmack would want him there when he barely acknowledged him. At best, it was to have his Chief of Staff available to carry out his whims. But it could also be part of Sabo's punishment, not allowing him any rest. Or worse, he was a pet.
"Ah, whoops," went Garp, noticing his flattened silverware. "Sorry about that," he apologized to the slave who hurried to replace his utensils.
No one acknowledged his mistake. Just continued to eat silently. Or, in Sabo's case, stand there and suffer. Garp missed the icy glare he would've gotten just the day before.
Koala sat crying and stunned in her room on a Revolutionary ship, her emotions a complete mess.
She couldn't believe they'd done it. True they hadn't freed every slave in Mariejois, but they'd gotten out thousands. Every slave under the moving sidewalk. Five castles, including Jalmack's.
How Sabo had gotten the keys and remotes, she had no idea. How he'd gotten all the security info, far beyond just Jalmack's castle, she was honestly stunned. The plan itself, accounting for not just escape but freedom, of ships taking them either to the Revolutionary Army or home, of accounting for and getting around anyone coming after them, was perfect.
He very well might be the best agent in the Revolutionary Army. With a feather like this in his cap, he well might have been made second-in-command to Dragon himself, had he been free. Even those Revs who were too low ranking to be told of Sabo knew someone inside had put this all together and were awestruck.
All this on top of the hundreds he's gotten out in the last year. On top of the dozens he's gotten out in the years before then, which had been much more difficult without his Chief of Staff position. The incredible amount of intelligence he'd fed them, information that would be impossible for anyone else to escape alive with.
And yet he remained a slave himself. By now, had undoubtedly been punished for the castle breakout. He could be lying unconscious in an infirmary, fresh torture wounds being treated at this very moment.
While the slaves freed from Jalmack's castle rejoiced and made cruel jokes about just that and worse. Unaware of who the true hero of the hour was. Oblivious as they mocked the one who had risked everything to get them all out.
She was supposed to be on deck helping them. But she just couldn't stand it anymore. Hack was covering for her, had even asked her to leave when he saw the expression on her face - and she was usually so good at acting. But she shouldn't have to be acting right now! The mission had been a complete success!
Instead of rejoicing with everyone else, here she was choking back sobs in a quiet bunk. She wanted to scream at the slaves for their cruel jokes, but she knew Sabo would hate that. Would make excuses for them. She understood, she really did, that desire to see and laugh at those that had stood above you being absolutely humiliated. They didn't know him. And they couldn't know him, as long as he remained under Jalmack's control.
But he sacrificed so much and might never experience his own freedom. It wasn't fair.
Why couldn't the ex-slaves mock and insult the Celestial Dragons themselves? Why did they feel the need to hurt someone just as human as themselves?
The worst part is she knew the answer. Had been there, done just that, once upon a time. It was easy to mock fellow humans - especially ones you were secretly jealous of.
It had been impossible to look down on gods. Even now, Jalmack was untouchable, even by their words.
But Sabo was scarred. Face disfigured by a brand, impossible to miss. Had often been seen bloody or limping or wounded, returning from some mission or training. Imperfect, despite his grace and talent. Sabo remained all too human.
And yet not, in their eyes. Between his cold mask, emotionless voice, uncanny strength, almost superhuman haki abilities, all neatly pulled together in an elaborate formal suit that covered every inch of skin except his collared neck and branded face - they saw him as a monster. A lesser.
Between being imperfect and being terrifying - being human and yet monster - the Chief of Staff was an easy target for their slander and mockery. Something they felt no guilt over. It could be hurt. Yet it seemingly claimed superiority over them. The perfect target for their built up hatred and disgust.
Especially when he couldn't, wouldn't, defend himself.
And she couldn't either.
Ace was trying so so hard to keep his flames in check, but it was getting harder and harder with each slave he helped aboard. Let cry on him. Took to the infirmary. As he couldn't help but overhear some of what they'd been through.
The Whitebeards wouldn't normally get involved in something like this. Interfering with slaves was basically an act of war against the World Government. That was something a revolutionary would do, not a pirate. Too much trouble.
But Jinbei had asked. Among the slaves were a couple mermaids and a few dozen fishmen and fish-women. They could swim away once they got to the water, but would be too weakened to get home. The Revs were shorthanded and the whole plan had been thrown together in only about a month.
The Moby Dick could easily accommodate Jinbei's brethren. They already had fishmen on their crew. Namur was even a commander. Fishman Island was under Whitebeard's protection, so it wouldn't be remotely suspicious for them to visit.
It had been easy to say yes. The reality was harder. Having to deal with victims of slavery was traumatizing in itself, even without any personal experience.
Ace's pity, disgust, and rage swirled even higher when news came in that one of their allied crews had been all but destroyed.
True, apparently their captain had made the idiot choice to attack a Celestial Dragon's ship. But that didn't change the fact that a crew of nearly four hundred had been reduced to less than twenty.
They all met up in Fishman Island. The surviving pirates cursed a top hatted monster in blue. A few of the fishman ex-slaves the Whitebeard's had given a ride home overheard, and soon joined the crew in cursing this Chief of Staff apparently infamous in Mariejois.
One fishman had actually worked under the monster for a time. Mentioned how if the man hadn't gone on vacation with their master, they never would have escaped.
"Vacation?!" exclaimed Ace, rage reaching new heights.
"Yeah, apparently some little kingdom named Goa or something in East Blue? The master likes to go every five years or so."
And Ace's rage promptly turned to ice as memories of Sabo's murder flooded his mind. Mogra shaking and stunned, carrying a trampled and bloodstained top hat with broken goggles. Of tracking down Sabo's scumbag of a father, of desperately not wanting to believe the still-fresh shock in the man's eyes as he confirmed Mogra's story. His son was gone. Dead. The boy had picked a fight right in front of a Celestial Dragon and been taken from them.
Ace had sworn all those years ago. To track down Sabo's murderer and kill him. The very same scumbag was returning to the scene of the crime.
The Moby Dick surfaced the next morning. Ace took Striker and stole away almost as soon as the bubble broke.
Whitebeard had told him he was free to run wild across the seas.