Horiki opened his grasp over the guard's face, letting the body crash to the ground at his feet with a decisive thud. Tossing aside the final emptied fuel jug he bore in his other hand, the man stretched his back with all the carefreeness of an amateur gymnast having completed a circuit, then leaned his weight over the railing to admire his work. From his perch atop this uppermost walkway, he had a clear vantage of the warehouse. The ground floor was massive, sprawling outwards to accommodate rows upon rows of freight containers stacked atop one another, casting gargantuan shadows which eclipsed the aisles in between. The lights sparked and sputtered sporadically overhead, only managing to cast flickering snapshots of the bullet holes riddling the walls, the puddles of blood and spilt fuel gleaming from the floor in undulating ribbons.

"I was hoping he'd have stationed one or two of his officers here," Horiki mused aloud, a note of petulance bleeding into his voice. "But nope. Looks like I've run out of playmates again."

With a small sigh, he toed the lifeless lump at his feet before casting a cursory glance over his shoulder at the heap of bodies piled behind him.

"Boring.... so boring! And this time, it isn't like I can expect Vergo-san to drop a call... Even that fisherman chap would've been something. Hmph."

Horiki clicked his tongue in annoyance, before firmly grasping the railing and vaulting over the edge. He sprung easily off the nearest stack of cargo containers, before dropping noiselessly to one of the aisles on ground level.

"Might as well get this over with then."

He continued to mutter to himself as he proceeded down the darkened passage, footsteps ringing crisp and lethal against worn cement. All around him were littered human bodies in various states of physical devastation - some already rendered stiff and motionless, some begging and moaning and whimpering in their dying throes, some groping about with blind and stilted motions in search of weapons that had long been felled, the same crude tools which had failed them so spectacularly in the preceding onslaught.

Overhead, the lights continued to gutter, sparks raining down in bursts of spontaneity as the damaged bulbs continued to flare out, one by one. Paying no heed, Horiki maintained a meandering pace down the aisle, humming a mindless tune beneath his breath as he followed the gasoline trail towards the front entrance.

He paused in his tracks, tilting his head as a noisy clatter sounded from the darkness to his right. A humanoid shape presently groped its way out from the shadows, shoulders trembling violently with every raspy breath it drew in. The colors of the attire hanging off that skeletal husk were difficult to perceive through the darkness, but it was evident by the hard helmet he wore that he was - soon to be had been, Horiki reflected - one of the warehouse workers who'd been caught up in the slaughter. His spine had clearly been broken, if the way the entire lower half of his body dragged uselessly behind him served as any indication. Only a single bloodshot eye glinted past skeins of matted hair drooping over the worker's brow, an angry red hollow nestled in the spot where the other should have been.

"You survived," Horiki said. He stepped around a puddle of blood and crouched at arm's length, forearms rested on his knees. "Well done."

The worker spat a mouthful of blood and lunged forwards, a flash of silver metal sweeping out in a pitiful arc. Horiki reached out and caught his wrist. The corners of his lips tugged upwards into a smile as he set to work prying the clawed fingers off the handle of the pocketknife.

"You'll... you'll regret this...!" the man hissed.

Horiki laughed and rose to his feet, the knife clattering to the ground just beyond the man's reach. The worker glared at him through his remaining eye, watching on as he turned to examine one of the storage crates.

"You... have no... idea...what you've done...to yourself! Joker..." A moist gurgle of laughter bubbled up from his throat, erupting forth in a fit of uncontrollable coughing. "He'll make an example... out of you...!"

Horiki's lips pulled back to form a contemptuous sneer.

"Joker this, Joker that. All you pawns say the same thing! It's vomit-inducing." He turned around sharply on his heel. "Unable to stand on your own strength. Bereft of all autonomy. Constantly reduced to petitioning your faceless overlord for even the smallest shred of legitimacy. With wretches like you to spare, who even needs slaves? It's despicable...just despicable, the depths to which Man is willing to debase himself!"

His eye bulging against its socket, the man dragged himself forwards by his elbows for the knife. Horiki peered down at him and extended a leg to stop him in place, resting one shoe over the snarling countenance.

"You insects lack the self-awareness to even recognize the depravity of your own condition. That's why I find you all so disgusting." Horiki's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he uttered the following words. "But even for the likes of you, it still must sting a little - knowing that in the end, you and your comrades suffered so much for the sake of a project as frivolous as this -!"

The worker's eye widened; his free arm started to come up to deflect, but it was too late. Horiki's foot drove into the man's skull with the force of a sledgehammer, sending him flying back into the crate on the opposite side of the aisle with a sickening crack, splintering the brittle planks and opening a jagged seam along its face. Flopping to the ground, he seethed out another muffled obscenity, gaunt fingers clawing against concrete with enough force to draw blood.

"Fuck...!"

"You can't do anything," Horiki said. "You can't kill me, you can't save yourself, you can't even die on your own terms. All you can do is wait. Are you starting to understand now?"

He strode over and planted another kick into the crate over the spiderweb of fissures left behind from the previous impact, tearing open a gaping hole. The worker barely managed to look up, chin slumping forwards. His body sagged, pushed along as the crate's contents spilled forth from the gash. The sputtering lights captured wavering snatches of the items as several bounced and rolled across the blooddrenched aisles - a flash of obnoxious color here, the outline of a twirled stem there. All were inconspicuous enough in shape, resembling apples and pears - but the telltale spots emblazoning the skin told a more sinister story.

Horiki knelt and selected one SMILE. He held it up before the man's face.

"Look at this."

"Fuck you...!"

"Look, you insect. The fruit of your labors. A success rate of only ten percent, it is said... And even then... for what, exactly? A gross perversion - only a pale shadow of the powers it was designed to ape! How laughable!"

The worker attempted to spit in his face. Horiki grasped the back of his neck and shoved his face inches away from the Fruit. His fingers clawed spastically into the bright mottled surface.

"Look here. Try to understand if you are even capable of that much. This is what your friends died for. What you will end up dying for. The way of the future in accordance with the delusions of false idols. It seems fitting that all your lives put together - all the toil and struggle - accrued the value of something so ugly and banal and insignificant. Don't you see the arrogance of it? The futility?"

Horiki tossed the SMILE away and opened his coat. The worker's eye widened in panic as he leaned back on his heels and withdrew a small circular object from the tactical harness lining the inner flap.

"How can one hope to tame the powers of this universe without even the shallowest understanding of its secrets? It's superstition at that point. A prayer to chance.... utter madness! The true key to might has always resided elsewhere, far out of reach for a few scant wretches playing god..."

Cursing loudly, the man began to thrash. But the grip Horiki maintained on his neck remained ironclad. He slammed the worker's head into the crate at an angle with enough force to splinter the wood, completely dislodging the jaw and instantly knocking him out cold.

"...but insects like you will never know that. "

Horiki smiled. He pulled the pin and jammed the grenade into the worker's gaping mouth.

"He still might, of course. But by the time he realizes, it'll be far too late. "

──────────────────

Arisa was no stranger to uninvited attention. With a Marine who'd served directly under then-Fleet Admiral Sengoku's command as her father and the Nightingale as her mother, the unorthodox nature of her parents' mesalliance ensured that her formative years at Valeris Island may as well have been spent under a microscope for gossips and Navy skeptics alike to poke and pry to their heart's content. The closest semblance of anonymity she'd been afforded had been the years she'd spent as a trainee at Amenoka-ji, but even then, it could hardly be said that the insular world of Wano's clan remnants had been any more forgiving. With the inconvenient juxtaposition between Navy and vigilante replaced with that of Uzuki and Amatsuki, her treatment by strangers and distant acquaintances still remained largely unchanged. The frequent glances, the finger-pointing, the intrusive conjectures murmured just beyond earshot - all these things had grown so familiar that somewhere down the line, she'd attempted to normalize with the associated discomfort, to simply accept it as a natural consequence to her very existence, but with varying degrees of success.

All familiarity aside, she currently felt like she was failing to do so. Quite miserably, in fact.

The buzz of adrenaline from the recent battle had only just now started to fade, reducing her to a bundle of nerves on the verge of unraveling at the slightest provocation. Fighting to ignore the dozen or so pairs of eyes boring into her back, she warily continued her trek down the coast after Trafalgar Law. Away from the cliffs, the smoking ruins of the bunker. From the battered, unconscious body draped over the length of the shore, bloodied scales glistening beneath the moonlight.

An uneasy silence simmered between them as they walked. She felt the whisper of a cold breeze press against the folds of her cloak, bringing with it a latent awareness of the certainties of passing time. The surrounding shadows suddenly seemed a tangible and terrible thing as they crept over the shifting dunes in line with the moon's sluggish trajectory across the sky. By the time Law's footsteps slowed to a standstill, they had reached a bed of boulders well beyond earshot of the rest of the crew

Propping his nodachi against his shoulder, the surgeon turned apathetic eyes her way, waiting silently for her to follow. Seeing him now, with all immediate dangers and distractions vanquished, Arisa was suddenly struck by how similar he seemed in bearing and disposition with another youth she'd known from the distant past. Though they couldn't have differed more in both profession and outward appearance, they shared the same shielded expression, the latent suspicion simmering beneath his words. The same glint of disembodied resentment caged within their eyes...

Arisa raised her chin, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly when Law finally spoke up.

"Your shoulder." His gaze flicked to her arm. The makeshift bandages Riyu had helped her to apply to her arm were freely visible from beneath the tattered remains of her cloak. "No ordinary person would have emerged unscathed from a blow of that magnitude."

"You were at Marineford." Even the simple act of uttering the word aloud sent a stab of pain lancing through Arisa's chest. "You should know very well how I was able to pull it off."

"Haki, then." The utterance was matter-of-fact - a statement rather than a question.

At least he knows that much.

Against her best efforts, Arisa's fingers crept down to Kagerō's handguard, fidgeting with the slotted kōgai needles in an attempt to allay her nerves.

"Is it that strange to you?" she heard herself say. "This is the Grand Line."

Law smiled humorlessly.

"You're right. Flukes of nature should be taken for granted in these parts. Should I assume the same for coincidences then?"

"Apparently you should." Arisa pressed her lips into a thin line. "There's really no other way to explain it."

He scoffed.

"Not unless you were targeting us."

"Which is exactly what we thought when you guys started popping up everywhere we went." Arisa closed her eyes briefly, trying to remember. "How many times has this even happened again?"

"This would have been the eighth."

The eighth? She fought to keep the shock from reaching her expression. Riyu and I have taken out fourteen of Joker's assets so far...so that's an overlap in close to sixty percent of our missions since I first started hunting the Kaku-Kaku no Mi.

Law was studying her closely, clearly taking note of her lack of immediate response.

"You can see how one might have a hard time believing this all to be a coincidence."

Arisa shook her head.

"There were more that we killed," she answered. "I don't know what else to tell you."

He paused.

"What was the point in taking their heads?"

Arisa's gaze trailed over the shoreline, taking in the minuscule silhouettes scarcely visible through the dimness. She wondered briefly which one was Riyu, before steeling herself for the initial plunge. The topic of Amenoka-ji and the Nightingale lurked just beyond the corner; she was sure of it. Yet as risky as it was, there was no viable way of putting her own suspicions to rest without broaching the subject.

"For identification," she answered shortly, crossing her arms. "Think of it in terms of bounty hunting."

"Bounty hunting," Law repeated dryly. "Yet something tells me it isn't the World Government you are answering to."

That was an understatement, but at least he wasn't beating around the bush. She hemmed another sigh.

Might as well get this over with.

"How much do you already know?"

"Enough to speculate."

In other words... whatever was reported in the papers. And she could wager there was no end to the rumors, especially in the wake of Mother's death. A small chuckle left Arisa's lips in spite of herself. Law narrowed his eyes slightly when she dropped Kagerō in the sand alongside her cloak and sat down next to it

"They must seem outrageous," she said. "All those stories."

A small rattle of metal sounded behind her as he carefully adjusted his grip over the nodachi's sheath.

"Yet here you are."

She smiled bitterly.

"Yet here I am."

Law waited.

"What business does the Children of Amenoka-ji have with Joker?"

"I already told you back there. He has something we need. A Devil Fruit." She glanced up at him, watching closely for any minute changes to his facial expression. "We knew he was closely involved in the black market network at Sabaody, so that's where I started. You know the rest."

He looked unconvinced.

"Then killing those assets was always a secondary objective."

"No. I wouldn't say secondary."

"Then what? Why the importance in taking their heads for identification if you were only after information?"

Arisa paused to consider her words.

"What do you know about Haki?" she asked carefully.

Law frowned in confusion.

"What does that have to do with -"

"Everything, pretty much, if you'll let me explain. So tell me - how much do you really know?"

A small silence elapsed, brimming with suspicion.

"It's some sort of innate ability from what I can tell," Law finally answered, voice terse. "Something that counters Devil Fruit abilities to a certain extent. Namely the intangibility of Logia users."

Arisa nodded in relief. So he wasn't completely ignorant. She could work with that.

"There are several different theories on the origins of Haki," she began. "There is even the argument that it manifests differently depending on the cultural and ideological environment which shapes its user's psyche. The general consensus, though, is that it is a force encapsulating the user's 'will.' All sentient beings are capable of it, at least on a latent level; that is what makes it a form of living energy. A tendency to exact order as one sees fit to the world. That is the prevailing belief of the Children of Amenoka-ji.

"But it isn't something that can exist in isolation. This universe is upheld by natural dualities after all. If Haki is representative of will and order, then it follows that an opposing force must also exist to destabilize it."

"Chaos," Law mused aloud.

"Yes. It is what we call Kyōki - mania. That is the second force. Diametrically opposed to Haki, it serves as the living energy for a class of mysterious creatures we call yōkai. You've probably already encountered several since you've entered the Grand Line - it's easy to mistake benevolent ones to be mere bizarre animals. Kyōki is something most humans are incapable of sensing or wielding, simply for the fact that we aren't naturally sustained by it like yōkai are. But that doesn't mean there aren't exceptions."

Gunmetal eyes immediately narrowed in realization.

"So that stunt you pulled earlier..."

Arisa nodded again.

"I was telling you the truth when I told you it wasn't a Devil Fruit." She fixed her gaze to the horizon, her voice growing quieter. "Those of us who are capable of Kyōki manipulation are rarer than those who demonstrate the ability to use at least one form of Haki. And for most, the ability is considered more a curse than an advantage. Like I said, humans aren't naturally sustained by Kyōki, so using it comes with a significant risk. Without the proper training, excessive usage will weaken the mind over time, eventually resulting in irreversible insanity. Amenoka-ji is just one of several havens for those born with this condition.

"We have several natural enemies. Predatory yōkai, of course, are the most intuitive examples that come to mind. But our biggest adversaries are the Kyōgui. These are mostly humans who've absorbed the abilities of natural yōkai by devouring their life energies. With untrained Kyōki usage being dangerous enough on its own, you can only imagine the calamitous effect doing something like that would have on the perpetrator's psyche. The end result is... Well, it's the closest thing you'd have to a near unstoppable monster." Arisa drew in a deep breath. "By that point, there is no way to revert the damage - not beyond putting them out of their misery. As yōkai hunters, that is precisely the fate we are expected to inflict."

Law considered this for a moment.

"Then the eight informants you and Weasel-ya killed... They were these so-called hybrids?"

"Them and six others. Yes." She caught the skepticism in his expression. "It shouldn't be surprising that there was such an overlap. This is the criminal underworld we're talking about, and Joker's networks encourage anonymity within its ranks. Kyōgui would thrive in such an environment."

Another silence erupted. Arisa turned her attention back to the sea, allowing her words to settle. Now that she'd said her piece, she felt considerably lighter, more clear headed. There wasn't much more she could do or say to strengthen her own position. What happened beyond this point was a matter of Law's own discretion, and that simple fact alone provided a glimmer of relief in and of itself.

"Which ocean are you from?" she presently mused.

"What?"

"Which ocean. My guess is that you aren't from the Grand Line."

His eyes eventually flicked back her way. His expression remained guarded but his unease was palpable.

"North Blue," he finally answered. "You probably already know from the papers."

Arisa hid a frown. She had read the papers. But the confirmation left her in the same predicament of not knowing how the hell he'd ended up with such an abnormal Kyōki signature. Most hybrids kept to the Grand Line with the exception of the Kodera-Ikki, who'd long held the tradition of keeping their main base of operations in the West Blue. The remaining three Blues were considered as good as barren wastelands when it came to native Kyōgui populations.

So that left her with only one other possibility.

"The North Blue," Arisa repeated slowly. "Is that also where you got your Devil Fruit abilities?"

She could have sworn to have seen his hand tense over the nodachi.

"What is it to you?"

"I don't know yet." For now, at least. She ignored the sting beneath her bandages as she folded her arms loosely. Tried to think clearly amidst the flurry of thoughts racing through her head. "It could mean nothing to me. Or everything. That's what I'm trying to figure out right now."

"I don't understand. Trying to figure out what?"

...there's really no better way to reveal it to him, is there?

Arisa drew in another weary breath.

"Why do you think I bothered to explain everything to you just now? No, scratch that - why do you think I intervened with Gavros instead of just running away?

"It wasn't for dirt on Joker. It was because I almost mistook you for a hybrid."

──────────────────

If he was being completely honest, Shachi didn't know what he had been expecting at the close of the Great Decapitation Debacle. The mystery had hounded the crew for so long it almost felt natural to take the setbacks for granted. He and the others had theorized about the identity of the culprit plenty of times, but the prospect of actually confronting them, interacting with them... That had been on a whole different realm of possibility - an incomprehensible one, almost - something he'd considered more and more unlikely with each passing day. Digesting the scene which played before him now, the only conclusion he could reach was that the universe sometimes really did work in strange ways.

The weasel Mink - Riyu or something along those lines - sat atop a felled boulder with her legs dangling over the edge, looking somewhat worse for wear judging from both disheveled fur and clothing alike.

"They're taking forever!" she whined. "There won't be anything left for aneki by the time they're done!"

Around two or so hours had passed since the Basilisk Pirates' defeat - a task turned trivial with the solidification of this strange new 'alliance.' With the Gavros apprehended and the hideout rooted of supplies, the Hearts had re-congregated at the shore for a well-deserved reprieve. Hakugan had even gone through the additional effort of maneuvering the Tang over from the adjoining cape. Rakko had insisted on it, cheerfully ignoring Ikkaku's orders to take it easy and diving headlong into the task of gathering the necessary ingredients from the submarine's reserves to whip up the promised seafood hotpot.

"Don't you worry, Mink-san - we still got plenty!" the latter declared, presiding over the gargantuan cauldron hanging over the bonfire Jean Bart had stoked. He beamed, ladling another serving into a bowl. "Now who wants more? Azarashi? Kurage?"

A chorus of enthusiastic cheers filled the air.

"Yeah." Bepo nodded. "Besides, you've already eaten five servings yourself."

"Hey!" Riyu chugged down a serving of soup and slammed the empty bowl atop an already-careening tower. "Watch your mouth! It's called food testing, alright? This is a longstanding Mink tradition!"

Food testing?

Shachi and Bepo both sweatdropped.

"I mean, we are all eating out of the same pot..."

"Don't question it, bastards!"

"I'm sorry..."

"Gahahaha!" Rakko threw his head back and laughed heartily, raising his ladle into the air. "We sure found a funny one! Now come get another serving, you idiots!"

Another sluggish cheer commenced.

"Funny indeed," Ikkaku muttered darkly, chopsticks in hand as she eyed the Mink skeptically over the rim of her bowl. She sat on a rock outcropping a few paces away with Uni and Clione, just within earshot. Though she hadn't spoken a word up to that point, the slight scrunch of her brows and the rigidity in her posture easily betrayed her unease. "More like demanding. Especially for someone on the receiving end of several favors."

"Let it up, nee-san!" Clione urged. He took a swig from his bottle and let out a loud burp, cheeks flushed slightly against the wavering firelight. "It all worked out in the end, didn't it?"

Ikkaku shrugged away from beneath his arm and narrowed her eyes at Riyu.

"How many times did Captain end up having to save your skin, exactly?"

"C'mon now!" A fresh bowl of hotpot obtained, Riyu hopped up back to her perch and peered down at her inquisitors. "It's not my fault that that stupid snake kept hounding me!"

"Sure, that's a convenient excuse."

"Oh yeah?" Riyu threw down the empty bowl, licking her lips with relish. "I betcha I can level the entire lot of you-teia with a single Tsukinowa Kick!"

"I'd like to see you try! Don't underestimate the power of the North Blue! Bepo, show her!"

"But I just wanted more soup..."

"Gahahaha! Eat up, you fools! We still got plenty to spare!"

──────────────────

"The lord is plotting something," Isseki Yanjirō said, ruminatively rolling a white game piece between his fingertips. "I'm certain of it."

"The lord is always plotting something," Kushihashi Shichizaemon answered absently. A black stone in hand, he sat with his head bent over the Go board in intense concentration. His voice was solemn, but the quizzical scrunch of his brows betrayed the fact that he was paying more attention to the match rather than the conversation. He huffed and rubbed his chin. "Such are the duties of a man of his rank and stature..."

Yanjirō's eyes thinned.

"Shichizaemon-dono."

"Hush, I'm trying to think...!"

"Shichizaemon-dono," Yanjirō repeated patiently. "It was my turn."

"Oh. Was it?" The old man blinked, slowly lowering the game piece as realization filmed his gaze. He scratched his head sheepishly and leaned back away from the board. "Well then! My apologies."

Yanjirō checked a sigh, before leaning in and placing his stone onto the faded wooden grid. He methodically dug into his jar for another marker as Shichizaemon tried and failed miserably to hide his dismay.

"Like I said," he repeated, fishing out a palmful of the white stones and weighing them in his hand absentmindedly. "The lord is plotting something."

"Yes, yes. He's always plotting something!"

"I am not referring to the half-measures you have in mind, Shichizaemon-dono."

"Eh...? Half-measures....?" Shichizaemon was still preoccupied with the board. He leaned in over the pieces with crossed arms, letting out a grunt of annoyance. "Drat, you've put me in a tough spot again...!"

A small breeze stirred the foliage outside, inviting the melodious toll of the overhanging windchimes into the drawing room from the courtyard garden. Due to its proximity to the southern coast, it was considerably warmer here in Hidamari Village compared to the harsher climate in the mountains up north where the main shrine was situated. Ever since his retirement, Shichizaemon had made a regular habit of coming down from Mochitsuki Village for a match of Go as an exercise to keep his old geezer's brain from going dull, as he liked to put it. As the island's undisputed champion in the game, Yanjirō was usually quite happy to humor him, though he harbored a sneaking suspicion that the matches were nothing more than a guise for the old man to keep up to date with the latest happenings from Misokatsu's councils.

Yanjirō's eyes gave off a calculating glint as he studied the board..

"I heard from Hokyū-dono that Uzuki Donabe met privately with the lord and Yoshikazu-dono."

Shichizaemon blinked and raised his chin, the black board piece held frozen between thumb and forefinger.

"...Donabe-dono?" he repeated, incredulous. "What possibly for?"

"I have no doubt in my mind he wanted to discuss Hachinobe Mototatsu-sama's upcoming visit." Yanjirō's lips knit together into a firm line, disgust etching over his features as he prudently folded his arms, tucking both hands into the sleeves of his outer garment. "The Tenkū-jō Uzuki have been salivating over this opportunity for months. It wouldn't surprise me if they were to push for a stronger pretext for an alliance with the Amatsuki. That, undeniably, must be Donabe-dono's aim."

Shichizaemon squinted.

"A marriage, then?"

"Either that or a hostage exchange." Yanjirō's jaw gave a curious tick. "But knowing the precedent for the latter, I'd be more inclined to think that the former is more likely."

"Hmph! Knowing how Donabe-dono operates, I would be inclined to agree." The old man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If the lord approves of such an idea, it'll certainly be the main topic of discussion during the next council. The Tenkū-jō Uzuki and the Amatsuki, eh? Shichizaburō will be tickled, that's for sure. Such a notion would've been considered unfathomable a mere fifty years ago!"

"I am still against it," Yanjirō said sharply, "and I plan on making my opinion clear to the lord should he seek our advice."

A ghost of a frown flitted over Shichizaemon's weathered face. Even from his time as an elder, Isseki Yanjirō's dissatisfaction with the current state of Amenoka-ji's alliances had always been something that always evaded the old man's understanding. Given how young she was compared to her sister clans, Amenoka-ji was still far from self-reliant as an independent entity. Without the material support of the Tenkū-jō and Osoegawa Uzuki clan remnants, it would have taken a miracle beyond all miracles for her to have survived to the present day.

"I am sure the lord will deliberate on your concerns," Shichizaemon said. "But we must also take special care not to go out of our way to offend the Tenkū-jō Uzuki. Hiyamugi-sama, for all his faults, has always followed through in his promises to the lord."

"The Tenkū-jō Uzuki," Yanjirō answered bluntly, "grow more extreme by the day. Mark my words, their zealotry will be their downfall. When their methods come back to bite them, we can only pray that we remain unscathed. The Amatsuki, too, if they're so intent on tethering themselves to a ticking time bomb. The Kodera-Ikki won't remain dormant forever."

Shichizaemon placed his stone on the board, eyes narrowed in thought as Yanjirō went on.

"This isn't even considering that the Osoegawa faction is also in play. I doubt they'll be forgiving of the lord if he were to facilitate something as permanent as a marriage alliance with the Amatsuki and our relatives over at Tenkū-jō."

Shichizaemon let out a troubled sigh.

"But if you were to ask me," he began slowly, a note of sorrow in his voice, "it is precisely our brethren in the New World who are on the path to suicide. It's been close to twenty years now, and there is still no end in sight to their war. We both know that Kaidō will happily slaughter them to the last man should they keep this up, yet they still persist..."

"Yes. The Osoegawa are throwing their lives away." Yanjirō placed a stone on the grid with an audible click. "The way things stand, neither faction is bound to last. We would be infinitely better off working towards autonomy instead of degrading ourselves over contradictory alliances. Not just from the Uzuki, mind you - the rest of the clan remnants too."

"That would go against our mission," Shichizaemon protested. "Remember our lord's dream! Unification has always been Amenoka-ji's ultimate goal."

"Unification," Yanjirō repeated, a tinge of scorn creeping into his voice. "Look where that got us with the Fūgetsu clan eleven years ago. Look at the state of the Shimotsuki diaspora in the East Blue. Damn them all!"

He shook his head with a dismissive snort.

"Towa-san was right. The way things stand, we are as close to unification as we were at the close of the Great Culling eight hundred years ago.

"The sooner we give up on this pipe dream, the better off we will be."

──────────────────

"You almost mistook me..." Law repeated slowly, "...for a hybrid."

"Yes."

Only the sound of the ocean waves crashing over the rocks filled the air between them in the silence that followed. Arisa retrieved Kagerō and stood.

"I don't understand what you're saying" Law finally stated, eyes narrowed. "I looked like a hybrid to you?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with appearance."

"Then explain."

Arisa drew out a heavy breath, a feeling akin to exasperation churning at her gut.

"It's hard to describe," she began. "The simplest way to put it is that Kyōki largely manifests itself as a latent form of energy. It exists in the environment in a sort of balance, constantly being generated and consumed. The way we can identify individual auras is by sensing how their auras perturb the surrounding energy. Of course, each interaction is unique. But the difference between the responses of humans and Kyōgui is so pronounced that it should be easy to tell between the two. In your case, though..."

Arisa trailed off helplessly. Law's face still remained a study.

"You're saying that my interactions with this surrounding entity - Kyōki - is abnormal. At least that's how it registered to you."

"...yes."

"So that doesn't necessitate that I am a hybrid."

She shook her head.

"Not exactly."

"Good. Because that would certainly be news to me." A trace of a smile flitted across the surgeon's expression, wholly sardonic. "But my words probably don't mean much to you."

Arisa frowned and turned to face him.

"If I were convinced that you were a Kyōgui I would've stayed to ensure that Gavros got the job done."

"How do you know that I'm not?"

"I don't. That's the issue here. I don't know what your deal is, but I can't fault you for a crime that I can't confirm."

Another faint smile surfaced, though to Arisa it seemed more a condescending sneer.

"Hmm. You seem to have a moral compass. Should I consider myself lucky for that?"

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't test my patience, Trafalgar."

A small chuckle reverberating from his chest, the surgeon affixed his gaze to the horizon.

"So this condition of mine," he mused aloud, "could very well be a fluke."

"It could." Arisa grimaced, thinking of the Tenkū-jō Uzuki. "That'd probably be the best case scenario for you."

Law leaned the nodachi against his shoulder and watched her.

"Is that supposed to be a warning?"

"It's reality. There are yōkai hunters out there who'd have no problem killing in a situation like this. Doesn't matter if you're innocent. They'd rather be rid of you in case you turn out to be a threat later. It isn't how we operate, but people like that are out there and they certainly aren't a significant minority on the other side of the Red Line. You won't be able to ignore them forever."

"I have a target on my back now is what you're saying."

"You always did," Arisa answered quietly.

Law considered this for a beat. A shard of bluish metallic light winking off the nodachi's blade as he pushed a finger's width out of the sheath with his thumb.

Arisa looked back out towards the sea.

"You had the luck of starting out in the North Blue. But beyond this point..." She hesitated. "Well, it'll only get worse once you leave Paradise. You'll see. We hunters are far from the only ones to worry about. Kyōgui, yōkai...anyone capable of wielding Kyōki will notice."

Something kept her from looking back to him. She only heard the click of metal as the blade dropped back down into the sheath.

"I already knew that we'd have the Yonkō to deal with in the New World," Law finally muttered, more to himself. "And now this... It's really one thing after another."

"Maybe I should ask what you're going to do."

He didn't answer right away.

"It depends. All of this doesn't change the surrounding context of this situation. How we ended up here in the first place."

"I wouldn't be thinking about that now. You still have a way to avoid what's coming."

"How so?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Their eyes met again, electric blue clashing with steely grey. A mocking smile crept over Law's expression.

"That's not going to happen."

Arisa shook her head slowly. In her mind's eye she pictured the dilapidated walls of that warehouse in Zone 54, accompanied with blinding flashes of colors and sounds and scents - segmented slices of clarity decocted from the nightmarish haze of oblivion she'd subconsciously reduced the Sabaody incident into. Memories of broken glass shredding apart flower-petal flesh, of cold fingers staking into bruised skin. World spinning, blurring, fragmenting before red-rimmed eyes; heart aching, lungs collapsing.

(Does it hurt? Does it hurt?

Does it hurt now, little monster?)

Even against her best efforts, a bitter laugh scraped past her throat.

"No," she heard herself say in a quieter voice. "You don't understand. You're strong, having made it this far. But I don't think you can comprehend it. Just how bad things can get."

Law held her gaze unflinchingly, as if to wholeheartedly accept the veiled challenge in her words. The smile he had worn had long ebbed away into a mask of cold neutrality which gave nothing away.

"Why don't we make a deal then?"

Arisa looked up sharply, brow furrowing in bewilderment.

"...what?"

"We're already going about the same means to reach our own ends. So why not collaborate?" His voice grew brisk, a glint of determination kindling in his grey eyes. "You seem knowledgeable enough to be of use.

"Help me figure out the cause of this strange signature, and I'll help you find your Devil Fruit."

Note(s)

Translations:

- Go (碁): A strategy board game.

- Hidamari (日溜まり): "Sunny spot"

- Mochitsuki (餅つき): Refers to the activity of pounding sweet rice with a mallet to make mochi cakes.

Other notes:

- Katana blades are made with varying lengths, personalized to the height of the user for best use. Kagerō has a blade length of around 75 cm, which corresponds to an in-universe height of around 180 cm (5'11'') for Arisa.

Thanks for reading,

-shiba