Atonement #61

Gale sat seiza-style on the cold, polished floor of the Fleet Admiral's office, his back stiff and his knees screaming. Next to him, Poqin looked perfectly serene, like he hadn't just caused an international incident and punched a diplomat's bodyguard in the teeth.

Across from them, behind a massive desk stacked high with paperwork, Fleet Admiral Sengoku was reading reports with all the calm, quiet menace of a man deeply considering who to demote first.

He hadn't said a word since they were dragged in. Just the occasional rustle of paper. Every turn of a page felt like a death sentence being delayed for dramatic effect.

Gale, for his part, was desperately trying not to sigh too loudly. Not out of respect, mind you—he just didn't want Sengoku to notice he was alive yet.

"So," Gale thought to himself, "that could've gone better."

The plan, if you could call it that, was simple: sneak into warehouse 99, pop open a barrel of fancy booze that nobody was gonna miss, have a drink, abscond with the stuff, and then drink some more until he woke up in a fountain or something.

The problem?

'Oh yeah,' Gale thought bitterly, shooting a sideways glare at Poqin, 'Some idiot forgot to mention the whole 'the dignitary already arrived' part.'

As it turned out, the booze was indeed reserved for a visiting dignitary who would visit HQ a couple of days later. The problem was that this particular piece of news was also a couple of days old.

The damned monk just happened to be too drunk to process the urgency of that information until he ran out of alcohol. So naturally, he went to Gale with a brilliant idea to "liberate" the barrels—failing to mention that they were no longer for a dignitary but already under guard.

So there they were, just casually cracking open one of the barrels, savoring the sweet scent of whatever ancient fruity thunderstorm the Elbafians called "liquor," when a squad of Marines burst in like they were raiding a pirate ship.

And with them? A man built like a steel-toed lecture, dressed in pristine black, with a monocle and a permanent sneer. The dignitary's personal bodyguard.

"You dare poison my master's drink?!" the man said, in a voice that somehow managed to insult their entire ancestry and shoe size in one breath.

Gale had raised both hands in surrender, trying for diplomacy. "Whoa whoa, we're not poisoning anything. We're just... inspecting the booze for erm, bugs, yes, bugs can't have the big shot choking on a cockroach."

It was a sad explanation. He knew that. But it was better than, "My alcoholic monk friend had a dumb idea and I was too emotionally compromised to say no."

Predictably, the bodyguard was not convinced. And also very condescending. Too condescending.

Like, anime snob villain who you just know is gonna get bodied by someone with less teeth and more tattoos kind of condescending.

Naturally, Poqin took that personally.

And then Poqin took his face personally. With a punch. Followed by the bodyguard's ribs. And the Marines. And then some more Marines, because of course backup arrived.

Gale, master of poor decisions, had tried to sneak away in the chaos and leave Poqin to his unfortunate fate.

Unfortunately, he made it exactly twelve steps before running face-first into Vice Admiral Momonga, who did not appreciate having his evening jog interrupted by what he described as "two idiots and a diplomatic incident."

Momonga delivered them to Sengoku personally, looking mildly annoyed, which for Momonga was basically frothing rage.

And now they sat. Knees sore. Spirits crushed. Futures uncertain.

Another page turned. Still no words from Sengoku. Gale swallowed.

He glanced sideways at Poqin. "Y'know," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "next time you pitch a heist, maybe include the part where the loot is going to be inspected by armed guards?"

Poqin didn't even flinch. "That would've ruined the surprise."

Gale sighed. "Yeah, well surprise—I'm pretty sure we're about to get court-martialed into next week."

Still, he had to admit—Algrund's Flame had a hell of a kick.

Totally worth it?

…He'd decide after the yelling started.

It was only after an hour—a full, torturous, mind-numbing hour—that Sengoku finally looked up from his mountain of paperwork.

Just a glance.

But it hit like a cannonball.

Gale and Poqin straightened up in perfect sync, backs snapping upright so fast it was a miracle they didn't throw something out. Gale had sweat dripping down his neck. Poqin, meanwhile, looked like he'd just woken from a nap.

Sengoku's voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that said, I'm deciding whether to yell at you or quietly ruin your life.

"Do either of you have any idea what you did?"

Gale hesitated, scratched the back of his head, and offered the only weapon he had left: dumb honesty.

"Uhh… how bad is it?"

Sengoku gave him a look so cold, Gale briefly considered freezing to death just to escape it.

"The man you assaulted was the personal bodyguard of the king of a sovereign nation. A guest of honor at Marineford. And you—" he glanced at Poqin, who was now picking his nose like it owed him money "—you assaulted him. In front of witnesses. Inside a Navy facility."

Gale winced. Okay. Yeah. That did sound bad when you said it like that.

He quickly bowed his head, aiming for contrite and humble.

"I'm really sorry, sir. We didn't mean—"

Mid-bow, Gale froze. His peripheral vision had the nerve to confirm what he feared: Poqin was still at it, looking completely unbothered, knuckle-deep in his nostril like he was mining for rare ore.

Gale's eye twitched.

Without even lifting his head, he reached out, grabbed the back of Poqin's skull, and slammed it to the floor with a dull thud.

"Ignore him," Gale said through clenched teeth, bowing deeper. "I apologize again, sir."

There was a long silence. Then, something unexpected.

A small exhale. Almost a chuckle.

Sengoku rubbed his temples. "That man is insufferable," he muttered. "And the king he serves isn't much better. Loud. Vain. Obsessed with his own reflection. He cried for two hours because his bodyguard chipped a tooth."

Gale blinked. "So… he's not mad about the beating?"

Sengoku gave him a withering look. "What you did was wrong, make no mistake. But… not unforgivable. I understand the folly of youth"—he said that like it tasted bad in his mouth—"and I suppose boredom drove you to this idiocy."

"Yup! Utterly stupid!" Gale said, nodding so hard he nearly concussed himself. "Absolutely brainless. Never again."

Poqin, still face-down, raised a thumbs-up in agreement.

Sengoku actually chuckled.

"You know," he said, leaning back in his chair, "for all your recklessness, you're both honest enough to admit when you've screwed up. I respect that." His expression darkened slightly. "But the fact that you still have nothing better to do with your time remains unchanged."

Gale immediately tensed up. That sounded like a setup. A trap. A task force-shaped trap.

"To prevent any further… diplomatic disasters," Sengoku continued, with the bone-deep weariness of a man who's been surrounded by idiots for far too long, "I'm going to give you something to do. A little assignment."

He steepled his fingers, gaze sharp again.

"Think of it as atonement."

Gale swallowed.

"...Is it worse than prison?"

Sengoku's eyes narrowed just enough to make Gale feel like a small, stupid fish being sized up by a very tired sea king.

"That depends on your perspective," the Fleet Admiral said dryly, folding his arms.

Gale's stomach dropped. That was never a good answer. That was the kind of answer that came right before volunteering you for something awful.

"The Reverie is happening soon," Sengoku went on. "A gathering of kings and queens from nations affiliated with the World Government. Big deal. High profile. No one wants the job, so—" he smiled, in the way a tax form smiles, "—it's falling to you two."

Gale's brain short-circuited for a second. "Wait. Us? Like… with the kings?"

"You'll be accompanying Admiral Kizaru as auxiliary guards," Sengoku explained. "It'll be good for you. You'll see more of the world, learn from a superior officer, and, hopefully, stay out of trouble while you're at it."

Behind Gale, Poqin let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like snoring.

Gale blinked. The Reverie…

The name sounded familiar. He definitely remembered it being mentioned in the anime. Wasn't it the big arc with politics and drama and... something about something?

Crap. Why didn't he catch up to the anime?

"Uh…" Gale raised a hand like a kid who hadn't done his homework. "Where exactly is this Reverie happening again?"

Sengoku adjusted his glasses. "Pangaea Castle. In Mary Geoise."

Gale visibly flinched. "Mary Geoise…? You mean that's where the Celestial Pi—uh, dragons live?"

Sengoku nodded, very matter-of-fact. "The one and only."

Gale's soul left his body for a second.

He sat in silence, staring into the middle distance as the words Mary Geoise echoed in his skull like an ominous church bell. A part of him wanted to bang his head against the nearest wall. A bigger part of him wanted to bang Poqin's head against said wall.

Maybe knock some sense into both of them. Or just break the laws of physics in the name of spite.

He knew this was coming eventually. He'd joined the Marines with a goal in mind: get close to Akainu. Find that Celestial Dragon missing a finger. Avenge Florencio's wife and daughter.

He just didn't expect the chance to show up this soon. He was still new! He hadn't even figured out how to tie the dumb Marine cravat properly without watching a YouTube tutorial—well, he could've, if YouTube existed.

Now he was being sent straight into the belly of the beast. Surrounded by royals. And worse: the Celestial freaking Dragons.

Fun.

Then again… maybe this wasn't a disaster. Maybe it was an opportunity. An early chance to gather intel. Learn the layout. Start quietly sniffing around for leads.

And if anyone asked why he was snooping, he could just play the idiot rookie card. He had that act down to a science by now.

Gale let out a long sigh, rubbing his face.

"Yep," he muttered. "This is gonna suck."

"I'll take that as agreement," Sengoku said, not even waiting for a proper reply.

Gale gave a stiff nod. Very reluctant. Like "I-agree-to-this-in-the-same-way-a-cat-agrees-to-a-bath" reluctant.

"Good," Sengoku said, already turning back to his desk. "You're dismissed."

That was their cue. Gale and Poqin both gave awkward salutes—well, Gale did. Poqin kind of flailed—and turned to leave. As they reached the door, Sengoku's voice came again, low and deliberate.

"Don't disappoint me," he said. "If you screw this up, I'll personally put you both on a ship to the New World and assign you to subjugate the Sea Emperor, Whitebeard."

Gale's spine froze.

Poqin, however, lit up like he'd just heard they were getting cake for dinner.

"Ooh! That actually sounds a hundred times more fun!" he said with genuine excitement. "Why don't we go with that instea—"

He didn't get to finish.

Gale clapped a hand over his mouth and started dragging him out of the office like someone hauling a screaming child out of a supermarket.

Poqin flailed dramatically, making muffled noises that probably translated to something like "LET ME FIGHT THE OLD MAN WITH THE MUSTACHE!"

"Thanks for your time, sir!" Gale called back over his shoulder with the last shreds of his sanity. "We will absolutely not die, or maim anyone important, or start an international incident!"

The doors thudded shut behind them.

For a long moment, the room was silent.

Sengoku let out a slow, tired sigh and reached for his pet goat giving it a gentle scratch behind the ear. The animal bleated sympathetically, as if to say "you poor, poor man."

This was a gamble.

A stupid one, probably.

Those two—Gale and Poqin—were reckless, unpredictable, and seemed allergic to basic decorum. And that wasn't just Sengoku's personal impression from this brief trainwreck of a conversation.

No—he had reports. Thick ones. From instructors, from senior officers, from Marines who needed stress leave after spending a single afternoon with them.

And now, he was sending them off to the most politically volatile event of the year. With kings. Queens. Dragons.

He was getting too old for this.

Still… maybe this was what they needed. A sink-or-swim moment. Either they'd shape up and finally start treating this job with the seriousness it demanded…

Or the whole thing would go down in flames and take half of Mary Geoise with it.

Sengoku rubbed his temples and sighed again.

"Please," he muttered, "just don't get anyone dismembered."

...

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