The moonlight was like cool water, washing over the deck of The Piece of Spadille. It seemed to gently brush away the lingering fatigue of the five-day battle, offering a quiet solace to the vast, dark ocean. All around their smaller ship, the colossal vessels of the Whitebeard fleet sailed in a silent, intimidating convoy, their lanterns like a constellation of captured stars.
The war was over. The Spade Pirates had been utterly defeated.
Their captain, Ace, had been taken by Whitebeard himself, unceremoniously thrown onto the flagship, the Moby Dick, and left to his own devices. After Ace eventually woke up, still not fully comprehending the situation, his first act was to launch another futile attack on the Emperor. He was, naturally, beaten down in a variety of creative and humiliating ways.
Meanwhile, a different kind of post-battle negotiation was taking place on The Piece of Spadille. Jerry and Marco sat opposite each other on the deck, each with a bottle of fine sake in hand. Kotatsu, the crew's loyal lynx mascot, was curled up peacefully at Jerry's feet, undisturbed by the presence of the powerful newcomer.
Following their defeat, the Spade Pirates had been systematically dispersed throughout the Whitebeard fleet. They were assigned to various functional departments, a clever form of alternative surveillance disguised as putting them to work. In truth, the Whitebeard Pirates placed very few real restrictions on them. This was partly because Ace's crew had a surprisingly good attitude about their defeat, but mostly because the victors were supremely confident that the rookies were simply not strong enough to cause any real trouble.
Jerry, of course, was the exception. After being separated from his crewmates, he was escorted back to his own ship, and Marco had followed him like a shadow, making it clear he was under special observation.
"I'm here because I'm afraid you won't behave yourself, yoi," Marco said, breaking the comfortable silence. A strip of gauze was still taped to his cheek, a comical reminder of their duel. He pointed to the wound with a wry smile. "So, no arrangements for you on the main ship just yet."
"Haha, it doesn't matter to me. I'm quite enjoying the free time," Jerry replied with a lazy grin, taking a long pull from his bottle. "If you don't assign me any work, I can just fish all day. It's a win-win." He could easily guess why he was being kept isolated, but since he had nothing to lose, he was happy to go with the flow.
Marco's expression grew more serious. "You know… if Ace were just a little stronger, or if you had attacked Pops yourself, this conversation probably wouldn't be happening so peacefully."
He stared out at the dark water, his voice lowering slightly. "Pops is known as the strongest man in the world, but he's not young anymore. All of us… we just want him to live out his remaining years in peace. So, if Ace had been strong enough to force him into a serious fight, or if we sensed for a second that you had any real intention of harming him… we commanders would have attacked you all without a shred of mercy."
Jerry listened, recognizing the absolute truth in the other man's words. This wasn't a threat; it was a statement of fact, a glimpse into the fierce, unwavering loyalty that bound this legendary crew together.
"Heh. Ace might have some complicated feelings if he heard that," Jerry mused. "On one hand, he'd be furious that you're calling him weak. On the other, you're saying he only survived because he was weak. It's a real catch-22 for a guy like him." He paused, his tone becoming sincere. "But no matter what, I am grateful for your mercy."
Jerry knew Ace had incredible potential, but the reality was that he was still too young, too impatient. He had rushed to challenge an Emperor. But then, if he weren't that way, he wouldn't be Ace. He was a man who acted on his will, driven by an urgency that burned inside him, a tremendous pressure to prove his own worth that could overwhelm him at any moment.
Their journey had been remarkably smooth until now; aside from the narrow escape from Admiral Kizaru on Sabaody, they had known nothing but victory. That kind of success could make a man feel invincible, even when he wasn't.
Marco let out a short laugh. "Haha, I think he'd be more interested in the information you're about to leak to him."
"Fair enough," Jerry conceded. "So, speaking of arrangements, is this it? Is the punishment for our crew just… putting us to work?" He thought about their current situation. The crew was broken up and assigned roles based on their skills or interests. At the end of the day, those who were free were allowed to return to their own ship if they wished. It was an incredibly lenient system for prisoners of war.
"For you, our thinking is a little different," Marco said after taking a sip of his sake. "If you're willing, we'd like you to help us out a few times within the next half-year. We have our own troubles, and there are times when we're short on manpower, yoi."
On the surface, it seemed like an absurdly humane arrangement. But Jerry, ever the strategist, saw the game beneath the game. It was a test. A temptation. The Whitebeard Pirates were already interested in recruiting them, and this was the audition. This was more of an examination than a punishment, a way to see if their character met the high standards required to join Whitebeard's family.
The arrangement for him was a perfect example. He was asked to help a few times according to his personal wishes. If he refused every single time, it would be a clear sign of bad faith. After all, their crew had been defeated, captured, and then shown incredible mercy. In the world of pirates, where honor and righteousness were currencies of their own, that was a debt. And the Whitebeard Pirates were a crew that valued benevolence and righteousness above all else. Ace, who had learned his manners and morals from Makino since childhood, valued it too.
Thinking of this, Jerry raised his bottle. "Alright. If you need my help, I'll give it. I'll mostly be here fishing, but I'll be waiting for your call." He grinned. "Of course, if I run into someone I can't beat, I'm still running away. Just so we're clear."
"Relax," Marco laughed. "We won't throw you into a meat grinder."
The two men clinked their bottles together, the sound sharp and clear in the night air. It was the seal on their agreement. They both drained their bottles in one long gulp.
Marco stood, stretching his arms. "Well, I should get back." He shook his pineapple-shaped head, and with a flash of blue flame, he transformed and launched himself into the air, disappearing into the night.
Jerry watched him go, then leaned back and stared at the star-dusted sky, sighing softly. In half a year, it might be time to say goodbye. He was grateful, but he wouldn't stop here. His path was a different one.
Later that night, as the moon reached its zenith, members of the crew began to return to The Piece of Spadille to rest. Deuce and Skull came back together, filled with news.
"You wouldn't believe it, Jerry!" Deuce exclaimed, his face a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. "I was assigned directly to the logistics and medical division! The knowledge they have… it's incredible! Things I've only read about in textbooks! This world's medical knowledge is so fragmented, but they have everything here!" Deuce had often felt out of his depth. Now, he was like a kid in a candy store.
"Besides studying, I got some news on Ace," he continued, his tone shifting to one of exasperation. "He challenged Whitebeard again the moment he woke up. I was the one who had to patch him up afterward. He's stubborn as ever."
Skull, for his part, was practically vibrating with excitement. "I was assigned to the intelligence department! My specialty! Of course, I can't access any of their core secrets yet, but they have me helping organize incoming information! The sheer volume of it… it's breathtaking!"
Mihar had found his own paradise, being asked to continue his dream job as a teacher for the many crew members who wanted to learn to read and write. The other members of their crew were similarly slotted into relevant teams, a place found for every person based on their skills. It was a testament to the surprising efficiency of the Whitebeard Pirates. Different tools for different jobs. Their captors, it seemed, knew exactly how to make use of new assets.
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