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“Oi, Fujitora! You’ve got some nerve still hanging around here!” Aramaki shouted at the man as he approached the other on a cliff overlooking the seas of the New World, beyond the border of the Holy Land.
“Oh, Maki-kun!” Issho responded cheerfully, turning to face him.
“Don’t ‘Maki-kun’ me, you-” Aramaki growled, holding up an accusatory finger at the man despite the uselessness of the gesture. “You just made yourself a traitor to the World Government. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”
Issho hummed and rested both hands on his cane. “I saved some innocent people from a horrific fate inflicted on them by terrible people. Isn’t that our duty as Marines?”
Aramaki stared at him. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, maybe not for him to be so blunt with it, but then, the man had made his thoughts clear through his actions earlier.
“Aramaki, tell me, what is the point of the Marines if we claim to protect innocents from the terrible criminal acts of pirates on the one hand, but then facilitate the actions of even more terrible people on the other?” Issho asked, raising his face to Aramaki with an uncharacteristically serious expression for a moment.
“I- but we-” Aramaki started, and to his frustration, there was not really anything meaningful he could answer to that question. Nothing that didn’t sound hypocritical to his own ears, ironically. This was easier in the heat of battle, but now… Thorny vines grew from cracks in the ground and whipped around his legs, though they refrained from hitting Issho. He groaned, trying to rein in the urge to shout and lash out and let out a sigh instead. “Issho, they’re already clamouring for your execution for letting their slaves escape, along with all the Marines we brought along. What did you think treason would mean?”
“Ah, so it is fear that makes you serve such masters,” Issho said with a condescending nod and accusing gesture of his cane-sword towards Aramaki.
Aramaki glared back at him and the ground cracked further around his feet with the expanding vines crawling out around him. “That’s just the way the world is, Issho, you know that well enough.”
Something sad seemed to pass across Issho’s face, but Aramaki wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not. “Then maybe this world is wrong, Aramaki.”
“Don’t be a fool, Issho, one man can’t change the world,” Aramaki said. Even to his own ears, it felt like a tinge of worry for the other man entered the edge of his voice.
“Maybe not. But maybe one man can inspire a great many people to change the world,” Issho replied.
Aramaki fell silent for a moment, frowning green eyes studying the other’s serene face. “Don’t tell me you are talking about Mugiwara, are you?” He spat on the ground and the thorny vines writhed around him. “He’s a pirate. How the hell could he change anything for the better or inspire people? Besides, you already got in trouble in the first place for failing to arrest him.”
“He’s a braver man than most,” Issho added with a soft sigh to his voice. “When us brave Marines were paralysed to act, the young man exposed the corruption at the heart of Dressrosa and excised it, all without us lifting a finger. Hell, we got in the way, instead.”
Aramaki gritted his teeth at that. Bruised purple thistles joined the thorny brambles, including sprouting among the verdant strands of his hair. “That’s just because of the Warlord system… you know we are getting rid of that.”
“Does it matter? The damage is already done. Both Alabasta and Dressrosa suffered greatly the last decade or so because we abetted this terrible system,” Issho responded. “Besides, you know as well as I do that pirates do not have a monopoly on being terrible people. I mean, didn’t you once get in trouble for killing such a man, only he wasn’t a pirate?”
Aramaki frowned. Now he somewhat regretted telling Issho of his past when he was too deep in his cups. “That’s different, he did-”
“Ah, it’s different if it is personal vengeance, is it?” the other man retorted, too smug for Aramaki’s liking.
He bristled and felt the thorns press into the flesh of his legs without any pain to him as the vines wound tighter in his foul mood. So maybe his pants gained a few more holes, though. “It was not... It wasn’t just vengeance.”
“My mistake, then,” Issho replied, no less smug.
Aramaki groaned again and rubbed his hand over his face. “What am I to do with you?”
“Oh? You’re not going to fight me and drag me back to Saka-kun?” Issho asked, sounding surprised.
“Why would I fight you now…” Aramaki grumbled, lowering his hand. The thorns melted away along with the feeling of rage inside him. Their ‘fight’ inside the Holy Land had been a pathetic affair. Aramaki had been unable to fight to any useful capacity for fear of collateral damage, while the Revolutionary Army had no such qualms- and neither did Fujitora, it seemed. Intimidation tactics only worked so far when your opponent was blind and appeared in utter disregard of his own safety or life. But Aramaki couldn’t bring himself to go all out on this man, neither then or now, even if his Devil Fruit allowed for such things when he had to watch out for collateral damage. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself.
“Ho? Maki-kun, you do know you’re going to get in trouble with Sakazuki-san for failing to arrest me now?” Issho responded, bemused. “Hell, you already were for failing to arrest me earlier…”
Aramaki narrowed his eyes and scoffed, “Don’t remind me.” Did he regret it though? He certainly regretted the events that occurred, but it wasn’t like Issho had caused them. He just threw another spanner in the works. It would have been a shitfest either way though.
“Hm, maybe we’re not so different after all,” the other man mused.
Aramaki bared his teeth, uselessly. “This is not the same as Mugiwara and Trafalgar Law.”
“So you keep saying…” Issho added with a sigh. The tip of his cane tapped on the ground and a louder crack sounded through the stone as it broke away from the cliff right in front of Aramaki. A boulder started to float into the air with Issho perched on top of it. Before he moved any further though, he turned back to him. “Ah, Maki-kun? What about those soldiers…”
“Oh, now you care?” Aramaki retorted spitefully. “Tch.” He shook his head. “All of them already left in pursuit of the Revolutionaries and the place is in chaos right now, so… hopefully they’ll forget about that ridiculous part of the order in all the confusion.” He wasn’t entirely hopeful, but there was a hint of it. “Garp is currently trying to smooth things over with the Nobles, somehow. With the help of Sengoku over the Den Den Mushi. I’m sure he’ll come out here soon, he has more experience with that shit.” Aramaki sighed and ran his hand through his hair, letting violet petals fall away between his fingers. “Some of the upper brass are acting with cooler heads and want to try to bury as much as possible of this embarrassing affair. It’s going to be harder to do so with the execution of an Admiral or two and a whole squadron of Marines, so… their embarrassment might win out against their rage right now.”
“I see. The castle built on sand is not as stable as it seems,” Issho mused aloud, but he did look relieved.
“Whatever. There will still be plenty repercussions, I’m sure…” Aramaki said with a wince. He looked up at the other man. “Where are you going anyway?”
“Don’t worry, Maki-kun, I’m sure we’ll see each other again,” Issho said with a bright smile, infuriating as ever.
“That was not my question,” Aramaki responded flatly.
“I’ll buy you sake next time!” Issho called over his shoulder as the boulder drifted away over the ocean.
“No, you won’t, you cheating old fox…” Aramaki grumbled with a shake of his head. As he turned away with hunched shoulders and his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, Aramaki had to admit to himself that he looked forward to seeing Issho again, against his better judgement. Hopefully they would not be on opposite sites of the battlefield again. The world was changing, just maybe… one could have a little hope. A fool’s hope, anyway.