On the deck of the returning warship, Libo skipped towards the cage where Bullet was held, a fresh carrot in her hand.
She tilted her head, her furry ears twitching slightly, and offered the carrot through the gaps in the iron bars.
“Hey, big guy, want some?” she asked with a grin.
Bullet slowly raised his head, his pupils fixed on the rabbit girl who he had blasted away with a single punch not long ago, his brows tightly furrowed.
“I tried to kill you earlier,” he said in a deep voice, with a hint of hoarse coldness, “And now you’re acting like this?”
“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Libo waved her hand, the carrot swaying at her fingertips.
“Gern told me, you’re a comrade of justice now too! Comrades won’t hurt comrades!”
“Comrades… won’t hurt comrades?” Bullet repeated, a mocking curve twisting his lips, “Heh.”
His eyes briefly blurred.
“Comrades”?
What a laughable word.
He, Bullet, once naively believed that as long as he was strong enough, he could gain recognition and have true comrades.
But what was the result?
Besides betrayal, betrayal, and more damn betrayal.
During his time as a child soldier, he was brutally branded with the mark “No. 9.” In the mouths of those high-ranking officers, he was merely “the 9th Bullet of Douglas’s unit,” a killing tool that could be fired at any moment.
But even so, he foolishly regarded the man who had given him his surname as a father.
And what was the result?
When he was invincible on the battlefield, when his strength began to threaten that man, the blade that should have protected his back stabbed into his heart from the most trusted angle.
He still remembered that rainy night, blood mixing with rain, spreading in the mud.
That man’s cold gaze was more lethal than all the Bullets on the battlefield.
If not for fate’s cruel twist, allowing him to unexpectedly gain the power of the Combine-Combine Fruit on the verge of death, he would have long been buried on that battlefield, soaked in betrayal, with a heart full of anger and incomprehension.
Later, during the Roger Pirates era, he finally found a new goal.
Sea breeze, strong liquor, laughter, and an ever-burning bonfire on the deck.
He thought that this time, he would finally have a Captain worth following.
To say that he was completely unmoved by the journey?
How could that be?
He was just accustomed to being silent and using his fists instead of words.
But when Rayleigh clapped him on the shoulder and laughed, when everyone pulled him into drinking games and mischief, when Roger stood at the bow and extended his hand to him…
In those moments, he truly believed that he was one of them.
But what was the result?
That night, the sea was suffocatingly calm.
Roger leaned against the ship’s rail, the Moonlight stretching his shadow long.
“I’m going to die.” A light, understated sentence.
“If you want to leave, then leave.”
What was this?!
He had been on the ship for so long, fighting with all his might every time, even willing to die for this man.
But in the end, in Roger’s eyes, he was always just a “challenger”?
A transient guest who could be bid farewell at any time?
Was this not a betrayal sharper than any blade?!
“Hey, big guy?” Suddenly, Libo’s voice pulled him back to reality.
Bullet snapped out of it, finding her still holding the carrot, her eyes dazzlingly clear.
“…” He was silent for a moment, then finally turned his head away coldly, “I don’t eat carrots.”
“Is that so?” Libo blinked, then a green light emanated from her left hand, and to Bullet’s astonished expression, she used the power of the Heal-Heal Fruit to heal his injuries.
“You… forget it.” Bullet opened his mouth, about to say something harsh, but seeing Libo’s serious expression, he finally sighed and closed his eyes, saying nothing more.
A moment later,
“Eh—?” Libo pouted, but quickly smiled again, “Then find me when you want to eat them!”
She skipped away, her figure as light as a breeze.
Bullet stared at her retreating back, then looked at the healed wound on his chest, his gaze complex.
Comrades won’t hurt comrades…
Laughable.
But why… did that sentence, coming from her mouth, make him inexplicably agitated?
Not far away, Gern leaned against the ship’s rail, black blade eight desolations resting on his shoulder, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Tesoro walked up beside him and whispered, “It seems Bullet won’t be so easily ‘tamed.’”
“Tamed?” Gern chuckled, “No, I don’t need to tame him.”
His gaze was deep, looking out at the distant horizon.
“I just need to make him understand that this time, he won’t be betrayed again.”
…
The warship slowly sailed away from the waters of Lulutak Island, the sea breeze carrying the scent of gunpowder across the deck.
Tesoro stood by the ship’s rail, his gaze fixed on Bullet, who was bound by Sea Stone chains.
The latter was confined in a specially made cage, yet he still held his head high, unyielding.
“Vice Admiral Gern, this fellow is indeed a powerful combat force,” Tesoro said calmly, his voice very low, audible only to Gern beside him.
“If he can truly be absorbed into our faction, even if he doesn’t like to talk, just his presence behind us would be incredibly intimidating.”
Gern smiled at that, the sheath of black blade eight desolations gently tapping the deck, emitting a dull sound.
“That’s true,” he narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze directed towards the distant horizon.
“But I’m not entirely planning to send him to Impel Down; it’s more… a matter of convenience.
Because in the upcoming power transition period for the Marines, I truly need a say.”
“Power transition period?” Tesoro raised an eyebrow, thoughtfully rubbing his ring.
“Are you referring to Fleet Admiral Kong’s impending promotion to Commander-in-Chief of the entire military?”
“Exactly.” Gern’s voice was light, yet carried an undeniable meaning.
“Sengoku taking over as Fleet Admiral is almost a certainty, but the Admiral positions still have variables.
Sakazuki, Kuzan, Borsalino… and me.” He paused, a meaningful curve lifting the corner of his mouth.
“I believe the World Government won’t easily let me take that position.
So I need to make good use of this point to exchange for some practical power for myself.”
For a moment, a brief silence fell over the deck, only the sound of waves hitting the ship echoing in their ears.
Libo once again poked her head out from the ship’s cabin, her furry ears twitching slightly: “Vice Admiral Gern, Tesoro, what are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” Gern turned and ruffled her head, his tone light.
“Just thinking about how many carrots I should buy you when we get back.”
Libo’s eyes lit up, but then she suspiciously narrowed them: “Liar! Your expressions were clearly very serious just now.”
Tesoro couldn’t help but laugh: “You caught us.” He shrugged.
“We were discussing how to make a certain stubborn fellow behave.” As he spoke, he pointedly glanced at Bullet.
Bullet snorted, turning his head away, but the corner of his mouth twitched imperceptibly.
Gern smiled, his gaze fixed on the gradually clearer outline of Marineford in the distance, and whispered,
“The game of power has begun, and we… cannot fall behind.”