Chapter 25

25th of February 1522
Thriller Bark

Vivi sat at the window, her gaze wandering over the sprawling landscape outside. The day had been long. The world beyond the window was both close and achingly distant, but she had to watch the world to combat the gnawing ennui of captivity. A sudden sound, the clink of a lock turning behind her, sliced through the monotony. Her heart quickened. It wasn't the time for the maid's visit. Could it be her captor? After endless days of waiting, was something finally about to happen?

She turned, anticipation tightening her chest, and there he stood—a figure so arresting that she felt her breath catch. He possessed an almost vampiric beauty, a visage that seemed sculpted from alabaster, with high cheekbones and elegant features that bordered on the inhuman. His lips, a striking shade of crimson, curved in a seductive smile. His pale skin contrasted starkly with the darkness of his attire.

"Vivi Nefertari," he said, his voice a deep, velvety murmur that seemed to resonate within her very soul. The sound of her name on his lips sent a flush of heat to her cheeks as she became acutely aware of her own appearance—barefoot and clad in a sheer babydoll, the gossamer fabric clinging to her form and leaving little to the imagination. She blushed deeper, the color spreading from her face to the tips of her ears, but she lifted her chin, striving to maintain a semblance of dignity. A fragment of memory flickered in her mind. A fight within the belly of a whale… But as quickly as it appeared, the vision vanished, leaving her in a haze of confusion. No, she concluded, she had never met this man before.

The stranger moved with fluidity, bowing before her with an elegance that spoke of centuries-old courtly manners. "Gecko Moria," he introduced himself, "Warlord of the sea."

Vivi's eyes widened. Gecko Moria! A warlord like Crocodile—terrifying! The words in her throat froze.

Sensing her shock, Moria continued, his voice softening with what seemed like genuine regret. "I owe you an apology, Princess. Your captivity is the result of a grave misunderstanding. I was led to believe that you were an agent of Baroque Works. Only recently did I uncover the truth—that you are, in fact, Princess Vivi, undercover and risking everything for your country."

Vivi's eyes widened, her mind racing to process his words. Before she could respond, he continued, his tone filled with admiration.

"Your courage," he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat, "is nothing short of remarkable. To take such risks, to place yourself in the lion's den for the sake of your homeland... It moves me."

Vivi felt another flush rise to her cheeks, more intense this time, as he spoke of her bravery. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she simply nodded, overwhelmed by the recognition and the unexpected emotion in his voice.

Moria's expression darkened suddenly, his fist coming down on the table with a force that made her jump, the sound echoing through the room. "In investigating your identity, I uncovered the nefarious plots of my evil counterpart, Crocodile. The depths of his treachery are abhorrent."

Vivi's breath hitched at the mention of Crocodile. Her father! The country! She had to tell them. And what about Igaram? Panic surged through her, and words spilled from her lips in a rush. "I-I have to go! Tell them! My father, the kingdom... Igaram, is he... Is he safe?"

Moria raised a hand, motioning for her to calm down. He moved to her bed, sitting down with grace. He patted the space beside him, inviting her to sit. "Please, Princess Vivi, sit down. We need to discuss this calmly."

Vivi hesitated, feeling a rush of embarrassment for her outburst, so unbecoming of a princess. She took a seat, the panic subsiding, before she blushed even more as the reality of the situation settled over her : she realized she was sitting on her bed with this enigmatic man, their knees almost touching.

Moria's expression softened as he began to explain. "As a Warlord, I am bound by certain rules. I cannot directly attack another Warlord, even if I am deeply indignant about the situation. My hands are tied in that regard."

Vivi's heart sank, but Moria continued, his voice steady. "However, I have taken steps to mitigate the danger. I found Igaram and protected him from Baroque Works agents. He is, as we speak, hidden on one of my ships, escorted by two of my most trusted subordinates. They are en route to Alabasta to warn your father and prevent further treachery."

A wave of relief washed over Vivi. Igaram was safe, and her father would be warned. The weight that had settled on her chest lightened, and without thinking, she enveloped Moria in a spontaneous hug. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

The realization of their closeness struck her a moment later. She pulled back quickly, coughing and blushing furiously. "I-I apologize, that was improper of me."

Moria chuckled softly, his eyes warm. "No apology necessary, Princess. Your gratitude is appreciated."

Vivi composed herself, her cheeks still flushed. "I am deeply grateful for your help. It means more to me than I can express."

Moria nodded, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Your courage and dedication to your country are admirable, Princess. I am honored to assist you in any way I can."

In that moment, Vivi felt a renewed sense of hope and determination. She stood, her resolve crystallizing into a sharp, clear purpose. "I must return to my country. I need to fight for Alabasta."

Moria chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and respect. "It would take more than a month by boat, Princess. But I have a way for you to be there in less than a week."

"How?" Vivi asked, her voice a whisper of desperate curiosity.

"I possess a skill that allows me to teleport," Moria explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "However, I must wait a week before I can use it again. You can stay here, in my wing of the castle, for that time. Then, I will take you directly to Alubarna."

Vivi's mind raced as she considered his offer. Strangely, she did not consciously realize that she was trusting without a moment's hesitation a man who, as a Warlord, had undoubtedly traversed a path laden with darkness and evil. She dipped her head in acceptance.

"I fear imposing on your hospitality, but as I have no choice, I accept."

Moria laughed, the sound resonant and warm, cutting through the tension. "You are no imposition, Princess. Do you need some books to alleviate your boredom?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful," she replied.

"I will dine with you every evening before your departure to ensure you are not too lonely," Moria said with a smile that softened his otherwise severe features. "You are welcome to explore the rest of the castle and the surrounding forest, but I advise you to stay within my wing. The other parts are haunted."

A shiver traced its way down Vivi's spine at the mention of ghosts, but she nodded, appreciating the warning. "Thank you for the caution."

Moria inclined his head, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. "Rest well, Princess Vivi. We will see each other at dinner."

He bowed slightly before leaving her room, the heavy door closing behind him with a soft click. For the first time since her captivity began, it remained unlocked. The significance of this small act was not lost on her.

Vivi exhaled, the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding escaping in a rush. She walked over to the ornate mirror on the far side of the room and sat down before it. Picking up a brush, she began to untangle the strands of her hair.

Her reflection gazed back at her, with its red, velvet eyes.

26th of February 1522
Marine HQ

Sengoku rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of his frustration. He could sense his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to spill over. The room, lined with maps and strategic charts, seemed to close in on him with every whine from the boy beside him. Luffy, Garp's grandson, was at it again, his voice a persistent drone about pirates and marines, each complaint a new nail driven into Sengoku's patience.

"Fukcing Brat…", he muttered under his breath.

The massacre at Cocoyasi had complicated everything. Luffy had been exonerated from involvement, his capture preceding the bloodshed. Yet now, the responsibility of this ungovernable child had fallen to Sengoku while Garp hunted the true culprit. The Five Elders, in their infinite wisdom, had decreed that Luffy should be molded into a pawn of the World Government. They spoke of turning him into a Cipher Pol agent, but Sengoku knew better. The boy was an embodiment of chaos. A Cipher Pol agent? Hah! He had argued fiercely with the Elders, convincing them of the futility of their plan. Instead, they begrudgingly allowed him to attempt training Luffy as a Marine.

A fool's errand, he thought, as Luffy's boundless energy and relentless chatter wore down the last shreds of his composure.

The door creaked open, and Tsuru stepped in. "Tsuru," he called, relief evident in his voice, "perfect timing."

With a swift, almost desperate motion, Sengoku propelled Luffy toward her. "Take care of him," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Make him a marine"

Tsuru caught Luffy effortlessly. Sengoku did not wait for her response. He turned on his heel, fleeing the room with a haste that betrayed his rank. As the door closed behind him, the noise of Luffy's complaints dulled to a distant murmur, and for the first time that day, Sengoku felt a semblance of peace.

30th of February 1522
Whiskey Peak

The waves lapped gently at the turtle's sides as it approached the rugged shores of Whiskey Peak. Robin's eyes, cerulean like a deep and uncharted ocean, scanned the terrain with a meticulous gaze. Her dark hair caught the sea breeze. She wore a purple corset, its fabric taut against her form. The corset plunged daringly, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her smooth skin and accentuating the generous curve of her breasts. Her waist, slender and inviting, was further highlighted by the corset's tight embrace. The matching miniskirt framed her long, toned legs with each step, the hem swaying with a flirtatious whisper, hinting at unspoken promises. Her face, sculpted with high cheekbones and a finely chiseled nose, held a knowing smile that the World Government hated.

Robin had learned how to use her body and appearance as a weapon to survive this harsh world. Each movement was calculated, each sway of her hips a silent strategy, each flash of skin a deliberate distraction. Her allure was a shield and a sword.

As the giant turtle's pace slowed, Robin extended a leg. Her foot, clad in a purple boot, touched the earth of Whiskey Peak. The curve of her hips swayed with each step, drawing the eye and holding it captive. Moving with feline grace, she directed the turtle to a little hidden port, a secluded alcove known only to her and other Officers. The port was shrouded by rocky outcrops and thick vegetation, an ideal place for a covert arrival.

Mister 8 and Miss Wednesday had betrayed them. In response, Mister Five and Miss Valentine had been dispatched to Whiskey Peak to deal with the defectors, but they had vanished. Subsequently, the Unluckies were sent to gather information, yet they too had failed to return, and the island's bounty hunters had ceased responding to any communications. Now, it was Robin's turn - Crocodile had sent her to deal with the situation.

Robin's eyes narrowed as she stood in the hidden port, focusing her thoughts. She clasped her hands together, and with a whisper, she activated her Devil Fruit powers. From her shoulders, delicate, translucent ears blossomed like petals, unfurling and taking flight. Eyes and ears blossomed in the main town of Whiskey Peak. She often used this ability to spy on people before she met them. It was useful in making her seem omniscient in conversation and power plays, instilling a wariness in those who might cross her.

Today, however, the conversations were strangely tame and mundane. Normally, bounty hunters were a talkative bunch, their brash voices filling the air with gossip and bravado. But today, their words held no interest.

That is, until she caught a snippet of conversation about a "new boss." Interesting. Had some of the officer agents, like Mister Five, tried to make a move alone? Or was it someone else? She pitied those foolish enough to cross a Warlord like Crocodile. Robin focused, sending out more ears, but the bounty hunters did not talk more about this matter. The new boss wasn't mentioned again. She would have to ask questions directly.

She made her way toward the city center, her perfectly round, toned ass swaying with each step. After about ten minutes, she arrived in front of the mayor's office, where Mister 8 used to be. She needed to see if he had left any documents that could shed light on the mysterious situation. The streets were alive with activity, but as she approached, people began to take notice. Most did not recognize her; she was rarely seen, after all. But those who did recognize her—as Miss All-Sunday, not Nico Robin—scrambled away in fear.

Robin pushed open the doors to the city hall. She confidently ascended the main stairway, each step echoing softly through the quiet hall. At the top, she found herself in front of a heavy wooden door.

Her heartbeat quickened as she approached it, maintaining a serene facade despite the storm brewing within. To her surprise, there were people here.

To her left, sitting on the floor and napping, was a green-haired swordsman, snoring softly. She did not recognize him. But on the right, leaning against the wall, was a formidable presence—a two-meter-tall red-haired woman glaring at her with fierce intensity. Selena Whitefang. A terrifying pirate with a bounty of 170 million berries, twice what Crocodile had before becoming a Warlord. Robin's mind raced, a whirl of questions and unease. What was Selena Whitefang doing here? And how hadn't she appeared when she did her screening with her powers? It was not like they could appear out of thin air or straight from the shadows?

"Hello, Selena", she said, projecting an air of confidence. Her expression remained unchanged; she simply smiled at her knowingly, projecting a veneer of control. But inside, panic gnawed at her composure. How? Why?

Selena's snarl cut through the air : "The Boss is waiting for you inside."

Robin forced herself to maintain a calm demeanor, masking her distress to stay in control. Her smile remained fixed, though it felt like a fragile mask. She nodded slightly, acknowledging Selena's words. Without further hesitation, she turned the door handle and stepped inside.