"Enough."
The word wasn't loud, but it carried. Frost lifted off the stones like breath in winter.
Aokiji walked forward with his hands in his pockets. Oren turned, blood stringing from his lip, and roared—a bad choice.
"Ice Block — Pheasant Beak!"
The bird of ice burst from the vice admiral's palm and crossed the distance in a heartbeat. Oren swung through it and found his forearm entombed to the shoulder. He tried to wrench free. The street cracked instead.
Aokiji didn't follow. He looked at Kai.
"You can finish those two," he nodded toward the groaning forms of Garson and Grin, "or you can show restraint. Your call."
Kai exhaled; the heat in his shoulders settled. "They're done."
A slow fog curled from Aokiji's mouth and vanished. "Good."
He flicked his gaze back to Oren. Ice crept. The bear-man's knees hit stone. Shackles formed around ankles and wrists—clean rings of frost that thickened when Oren strained.
"Perimeter!" Colonel Miz snapped. Marines moved—measured, wary—muskets lowered but ready. Civilians had already been pushed back behind a cordon of rope and splintered stalls.
Oren snarled through his teeth. "You're not taking me—"
"You're already taken," Aokiji said, almost apologetic. "Don't make me use more paperwork."
The fur at Oren's shoulders bristled. He heaved—the ice sang, then set harder.
A black Den Den Mushi blinked open on a rooftop. A clipped voice rode the square: "Cipher Pol request: transfer the child to a secure facility for evaluation."
Silence. The wind shifted and went somewhere else.
Aokiji didn't look away from Kai. "Denied. Loguetown is under my authority."
The snail hesitated. "Headquarters will—"
"File your protest," Aokiji said mildly. "I'll sign it when I thaw my pen."
Kai's lips quirked.
"Don't smile," Aokiji added without heat. "You're trouble enough."
On the ground, Garson tried to lever himself up. Kai turned his head a fraction—no glare, no Haki, just the weight of someone who didn't consider him dangerous anymore. Garson stopped.
"Vice Admiral," Miz said, "orders on the prisoners?"
"Secure, separate, and sedate," Aokiji replied. "Loguetown cells, cold storage wing." A pause. "Keep the pufferfish in a lined cage. Watch for spines."
Two Marines swallowed and nodded.
Aokiji's gaze returned to Kai. "You have power. And talent. That combination turns men stupid."
Kai didn't answer.
"Garp says you're not stupid." A hint of amusement touched Aokiji's mouth. "Prove him right."
A second, smaller Den Den Mushi clicked under a tarpaulin across the plaza. The same clipped voice, quieter now: "Cipher Pol note: vice admiral asserts custody. Fallback plan C. Observe at distance. Priority remains the child."
Kai heard none of the words, but he felt the attention reposition—gone from the roofline, sliding into the city's side streets like oil.
He finally spoke. "What about him?" He tipped his chin toward Oren.
"East Blue tribunal, then Impel Down if he survives the transfer," Aokiji said. "You don't have to solve everything in one afternoon."
"I wasn't trying to." Kai's tone was flat.
"Good." Aokiji nodded once. "Because the sea is larger than your fists."
The ice at Oren's wrists thickened another ring. His breathing steadied into low rumbles—rage cooling into a slower temperature.
"Move them," Aokiji told Miz.
Marines flowed in, shackles clinking, seastone manacles on the officers. Grin whimpered when a spine nicked his own lip; a petty officer cuffed a leather guard over his mouth.
"Vice Admiral," Miz said, "there's talk the press already has it."
"They do." Aokiji's eyes slid to the distant harbor, then back. "It won't matter what the headline is. What matters is what he does next."
He meant Kai. He didn't blink.
A gull cried. The square, at last, exhaled.
"Get some rest," Aokiji said to Kai. "And don't wander alone. Cipher Pol hates losing arguments."
"I won't," Kai said.
"Mm." Aokiji stepped back, pockets deeper, posture already turning into a yawn he wouldn't bother to hide.
The Marines marched their prisoners. The ice didn't melt; it chose a time of its own.
At the far edge of the cordon, a man in a workman's cap lowered his eyes and turned away just before Kai might have noticed the too-smooth stride.
Somewhere a camera snail blinked, filed, and closed.
To be continued…
Who moves first in the shadows—Cipher Pol or the man in the cap? And what will Garp say when he finally arrives?
Visit my patreon for more chapters
Advance 60+ Chapters Available
patreon.com/ZeusOp