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“Do you ever question whether what we are doing is the right thing?” Borsalino’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. The words held a pain that cut deeper than any blade ever could have, and Sakazuki was at a loss.
He had heard about the Egghead incident…and the way Borsalino had decided to choose his sworn duty above his only friends.
He was a miserable sight, hunched all alone in his pitch black office with only the pale light of the moon shining through the window illuminating his silhouette.
Sakazuki could see the bandages wrapped around his arms and his head, a testament on how close he had come to extinction. It seemed as if the brightest light of them all had ultimately been consumed by shadows.
His state made his heart clench in a way he wasn’t accustomed to, without understanding the reason why. He wasn’t an overly emotional man - in fact many would have declared him devoid of a living, beating, feeling heart altogether. What they saw was the neverending rage and devotion to his absolute justice; a man who knew no compromise, neither with friend, nor with foe.
And yet here he was, hurrying to see Kizaru as soon as he received word of the other’s return, his heart demanding to make sure the other was safe and sound, drowning out the voice of reason telling him it shouldn't matter, that he shouldn't give in to seeing Borsalino as anything other than a subordinate, a valuable asset to the Marine. But then, he always had. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, the other held a special place in his life. Sakazuki couldn't name it, or maybe doing so would have merely cemented the fact that he wasn't as immune to the softer emotions as he desired to be. Ultimately, Borsalino was the one weak spot no one was ever supposed to know about.
Slowly he stepped into the room and closed the door, if only to grant them some privacy. It was a frail barrier between them and the outside world and yet, in that very instance, it appeared to be what he needed to allow himself a moment of weakness, to focus on his companion alone and do away with the stern demeanor of the Fleet Admiral.
From the way Borsalino’s tired eyes were fixed on him he could tell the other was a mere hair's breadth apart from breaking.
“What do you mean?” Harsh, without a hint of compassion - he disliked the fact he was nigh unable to express anything in a calm manner. It just wasn’t in his nature.
Borsalino winced and turned to look out the window. The shadows made him appear so much older, so much more worn and tired and…broken. He seemed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, unable to move now that its master had forsaken him.
Or maybe he had decided to cut the strings himself without knowing the consequences, and had been pushed beyond caring at this point.
“I mean that, for the first time, I made a decision and am uncertain of whether it was the right one.”
Sakazuki grit his teeth.
“Deciding to follow the way of justice is never wrong. Why would you doubt that?” Too much! He hadn't meant to hurt the other even more. Sakazuki hated himself for the devastated look his words put on Borsalino’s features, as if he had hoped for understanding and found nothing but rejection.
“Following your path...yes, I suppose it is. An absolute goal to be achieved by all means necessary. But you know…” Borsalino weakly pointed at the banner behind his desk displaying the motto ‘unclear justice’ in bold calligraphy, “I never had that kind of resolve. To a certain degree I envy you. I have always been in limbo of what I thought right, what felt right and…” he fell silent before he could finish his sentence.
“And what?” Sakazuki had stepped up to the desk, watching the other intently.
“And whatever I did in hopes of not losing the few things that mattered to me.” Absent-mindedly, Borsalino picked at his bandages. The skin beneath felt itchy. Or maybe he just wanted to tear himself apart, vanish into light and cease to exist, cease to endure the constant conflict between his heart and his rational mind.
“Did those traitors matter to you?” No compassion, an absolute lack of empathy…he really was the worst at comforting anybody, wasn’t he?
“Those ‘traitors’ were my friends. They…” Borsalino bit his lip and took a moment to compose himself “I think they were the closest thing to a family I ever had,” he finally finished his sentence and braced himself for Sakazuki’s reprimand.
“Men like us do not have a family.” Sakazuki replied, but something about his statement seemed…wrong.
“Maybe…” The other leaned back in his chair and threw his head back, fixing his eyes on a point somewhere in the pitch black void of the ceiling. “But I can’t help wondering whether a family was something I always wanted. Or rather…it was one of two things I always hoped for.” He reached out towards his desk and retrieved a half empty pack of cigarettes.
“I thought you stopped smoking a long time ago.”
Borsalino shrugged. “It does calm my nerves and heaven’s know I am in dire need of that.” He held the cigarette out to Sakazuki. “Could you do me the favor?”
The other sighed and lit it with a snap of his fingers. Leaning back again, Borsalino took a deep drag and let the smoke waft from his mouth in a slow and steady stream.
“You said there were two things you would have wanted?” Sakazuki asked, though it sounded like something caught between an accusation and an interrogation. He didn’t mean to imply either. “What was the second one?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Borsalino took another drag from his cigarette. Despite the dim light Sakazuki could see the other tensing up like a tightly wound spring.
“If it didn’t, you wouldn’t have mentioned it. You feign ignorance, but everything you say, everything you do, always has an ulterior motive. I've learned as much over the decades.” With measured steps he rounded the desk and stood before the other. Before Sakazuki realized his own action, he had taken the cigarette from Borsalino’s fingers and put it to his own lips.
“Don’t you prefer your cigars?” Borsalino raised an eyebrow.
“Indeed.” He offered the cigarette back to the other, but instead of taking it, Borsalino leaned in, brushed his lips against the others fingers as he breathed in more smoke.
Startled, Sakazuki took a step back, eyes fixed on the other who was now watching him with an unreadable expression.
“What- ? Why- ? HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST YOUR MIND?” His hand shook hard enough he lost grip of the cigarette stump. It left a little hole in his pristine white suit before he could extinguish it,
“Just what I thought.” Borsalino whispered and diverted his attention back to the window.
“Have you ever wondered whether the world is more than just the black and white we wish it to be?” Borsalino reached up to take off his glasses, discarded them to the top of his desk. Without the orange tint to hide them, the bags under his eyes seemed far more prominent.
Sakazuki just kept on staring at him, his heart still beating wildly in his chest from the unforeseen contact. He wasn’t certain whether he had hated it or craved to feel it again.
“We categorize everything - just right or wrong, good or bad, justice and crime…black and white but…” Borsalino tilted his head towards the other, “if we never stop thinking in those extremes, won’t we miss the spark of color in between?”
Slowly he reached out to Sakazuki, wrapped his fingers around his hand, let his thumb stroke across its back.
“What if I wanted to see the colors? Would you hate me for it?”
As if struck by lightning, Sakazuki retracted his hand.
“Have you gone insane, Borsalino?” His breath was coming out in erratic gasps. The motion had felt…natural, it had felt right, had felt as if it had always been supposed this way, and Sakazuki did not know how to accept that truth.
“Maybe. Or, maybe I see clearly for the first time in forever. Who can tell?” A wry smile stole onto Borsalino’s face. “Tragedy can be a catalyst in many directions, don’t you think? It’s a strange world we live in. You must have noticed it.”
“Must have noticed what?” Sakazuki’s voice was unsteady, full of uncertainty. “You…this is so unlike you, Borsalino.”
“The government views us as nothing more than pawns in a never ending game of chess. If one pawn falls, it will be replaced by another without ever diminishing the forces. The Gorosei paint themselves to be the gods, innocent white, the guidance through troubled times for the greater good. Those however, who seek truth, who seek freedom and adventure, are displayed as the black knights, the destroyers of peace. And yet, the ones fallen between the two fronts, those white pawns…they are tinted in a bloody red. What purpose do they serve? Aren’t they just the scapegoats for something that seeks to hide how rotten the system truly is?”
“We’re not supposed to question those decisions.” Sakazuki grew more tense by the minute.
“Do you really not?” the other answered softly. “You must be aware they are measuring with double standards. It’s not ‘Pirates are bad, Marines are good, the people must be protected’, isn’t it? Even though that's what they want us to believe. Just be a brave little soldier and do as you are told. I am tired, Sakazuki. And I have looked the devil himself in the eye. They do not care. About none of us. We are mere ants that can be trampled and replaced without ever making a difference. They want us for our powers, but if we fall, they would not mourn our death. This disdain for everything, it scares me. So much more than I ever thought it would.”
“You shouldn’t- it’s not- why do you have to make this so difficult, Borsalino?” Sakazuki’s voice was strained, barely containing a well of emotions clawing its way out of his chest. It was blasphemy, treason to the World Government and the order they symbolized. And yet he did not fail to see a flicker of truth, knew what the other meant to imply. They were seeking to eradicate piracy, but spared those who were deemed useful. And the Marine turned a blind eye on it all, even protected the few that exploited the righteous people for their own gain. He hated the Celestial Dragons with a passion, despised the veil of self-righteousness they covered themselves with. He had more than once questioned whether the rights obtained by the mere fact of being born were reason enough to overlook the atrocities they committed against humanity.
“It’s difficult because you understand. Hate me all you want for it, but you know I am right.” Borsalino closed his eyes and sighed. “Even though the last thing I want is for you to hate me.”
“I don’t.” The softness of his own words surprised Sakazuki. So he was capable of it after all?
“Tell me, what is it you truly stand for?” Borsalino held out a hand, waiting, posing as an unspoken question.
“I…” Sakazuki’s hand twitched by his side, and yet he did not reach out in turn. “I want to do what’s right. To punish the ruthless and protect the innocent.”
“And can you tell them apart anymore, or has it all turned into a maelstrom of clashing colors, where good bleeds into bad, right into wrong, where righteousness and corruption mingle?”
“I shall not lose sight of what is just.” Sakazuki answered with determination.
“Won’t you?” Borsalino mused, his hand still outstretched, still waiting, beckoning the other to give in. “Then where do you draw the line? What if this world needs the change to set it right once more?”
“I don’t know.” Sakazuki admitted and it felt as if a weight had been lifted off his heart the moment he admitted the truth, no matter how painful. “It’s all blurred. What should I do, Borsalino?”
The other shook his head. “It’s not up to me to decide but…maybe we can find a place in this world that’s changing. Maybe we can divert our ways from strict categories and see the colors? Maybe the Marine could become the symbol of protection once more?”
He shouldn't listen to this nonsense, shouldn't be inclined to give it a deeper thought. Sakazuki, for more than five decades, had put justice on a pedestal. It had been the one thing to achieve and every little spark of revolution needed to be snuffed before it turned into a flame that spread and devoured the precarious balance of the world.
Borsalino's words, his doubt, should have angered him and yet, for the first time, there was the sinking feeling in his gut he was right, that the scales had been tipped towards an imbalance a long time ago without them being aware of it.
Or maybe it was a side effect of having known the other most of his life, having come to know his idiosyncrasies and learned to value his opinion.
For Borsalino to take a stand was a rare occasion. He was no leader, tended to adhere to the orders given to him without question. To see his companions' world shaken to its very core struck a chord deep inside Sakazuki’s own heart.
“I don’t think they would still follow me down that path.” It was madness, even considering it, but then, hadn't they once called him Akainu, the mad dog?
“Then convince them. Give them something to believe in. There are so many eager young officers who want to make a difference. Give them a reason to believe.”
“I don’t know if I can.” The realization hit him like a storm surge. He felt scared, so utterly powerless. “I can’t do this on my own.” It was ultimately admitting defeat. He had failed - as a man, as a Marine, as Fleet Admiral.
“I have another question.” Borsalino pushed himself out of his chair “and I want you to answer it honestly.”
The sudden closeness startled Sakazuki. He felt like the proverbial deer in the headlight. As a surprisingly soft palm cupped his scarred and mangled cheek, he couldn’t help but lean into the touch.
“Do you think we could do this together?”
“It’s a suicide mission.” He placed his own calloused hand over Borsalino’s.
“Maybe. But I think it’s time the puppet without strings should learn to walk on its own. The beaten up guard dogs turn against their cruel master to protect what they were always supposed to keep safe. Change needs to start somewhere. You cannot start a fire without a spark. Maybe that spark could be us?”
“Won’t you turn your back on me as well?” Sakazuki’s finger tightened around the other’s, keeping them in place against his cheek.
“Sometimes you’re so blind, it’s a shame.”
“Stop playing your games. This is not a joke.” Sakazuki growled, furrowing his eyebrows into an oh so familiar scowl.
“That’s my point. With you, it never has been.” Borsalino grabbed his face between his hands and kissed him.
As he drew back, his eyes were half lidded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You wanted to know what the second thing I desired was. It’s you. It always was and always will be. My world was merely not broken enough to risk telling you. But…” he caressed the other’s lips with his fingertips. “Once there is no way to go but towards the abyss, you become willing to take the leap of faith, be it to salvation or to demise. What will you choose?”
Time seemed to stand still as Sakazuki stared at him, wide-eyed, uncertainty written all across his marred features.
“I will say it only once,” Borsalino continued “I love you, Sakazuki. And if you want me to, I will follow you into the grave. But let there be flowers upon it, in all shades of the sky and earth and everything between. Let them tell the world that we did the right thing. Let us fall as the heroes we were always supposed to be, not the monsters we were made into.”
He yelped in surprise as he was dragged forward, strong arms wrapping around his shoulders as hungry lips clashed with his own, devouring until they were both gasping for air. Borsalino could see a shimmer around Sakazuki’s eyes. With a gentleness uncommon for a man of his reputation he wiped away the tears, weaved his fingers into the short hair at Sakazuki’s neck.
“Let us try,” Sakazuki mumbled and pecked Borsalino’s lips once again before resting his forehead against the others.
At least he could give seeing all the colors between the pure black and white a chance.