Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Fleet Admiral’s office was shrouded in shadows, lit only by the flickering glow of a black Den Den Mushi resting on the heavy wood of the desk. The curtains were drawn, the doors double-locked. No unwanted ears could hear what was about to be said.

Sakazuki, arms crossed, glared at the receiver like it was a snake. Then, without hesitation, he pressed the call button. The Den Den Mushi clicked several times, its shell slowly morphing into the rough, arrogant face of a well-known contact.

A deep, drawling voice answered after a few seconds:

"Well, well. The Government’s dog. What do you want, Sakazuki?"

Sakazuki didn’t waste a second.

"A job. A hunt."

A mocking laugh crackled through the snail.

"I run an empire of assassins and bounty hunters, not an intel service. You want something? Pay up."

"I’ve got a name. Just one. And a target you and Mihawk should be very interested in seeing fall."

"Interesting."

Silence stretched for a moment before Sakazuki dropped it like a blade:

"Blackbeard."

This time, no laughter. The silence grew heavier. The Den Den Mushi blinked slowly. Crocodile didn’t reply right away.

"You want him captured or dead?"

"I want his head. Dragged out of his den like a dog. Alive or dead, I don’t care. But if he’s alive, he shouldn’t ever be able to lift a hand against anyone again."

Crocodile exhaled slowly, thoughtful.

"What’s the payment? Marines aren’t exactly handing out gold bars."

"I can offer you immunity on certain islands. 'Ignored' shipping corridors, protected trade routes for six months… and a direct transfer from a black fund that doesn’t officially exist."

"You want me to believe you would divert World Government resources for me?"

"I want him dead, Crocodile. And you want to be left alone. We can make a deal."

The Den Den Mushi remained quiet. Then Crocodile laughed—softly this time, almost satisfied.

"I’ll admit, your hatred is convincing. You’ve changed, Akainu. Not like you to talk like this… even to me."

Sakazuki clenched his fists.

"He touched someone who’s mine."

A thicker silence followed. Crocodile didn’t press.

"I’ll talk to Mihawk. And that clown Buggy, even if he’s mostly for show. If he can be located—if there’s a trace—we’ll move."

"Don’t send me promises. Send me remains."

"You’re a monster, Akainu. But on this… we’re two of a kind."

Click.

The line went dead.

Sakazuki remained silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the Den Den Mushi, which slowly resumed its neutral form. His face was a mask, but a vein throbbed in his temple. He clenched his jaw.

Blackbeard would pay.

Whatever the cost.

---

The sun was rising gently over Marineford, casting a golden glow down the halls of the Fleet Admiral’s private quarters. The bedroom curtains were half-drawn, letting light spill across the light blanket draped over the bed.

Kuzan lay on his side, still pale, but his eyes were open. He stared absently at the ceiling, one arm tucked under his head. A thin red line still marked his collarbone, an old burn scar. But his breathing was steady.

A hand offered him a glass of water.

"Drink a bit," Sakazuki said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Kuzan groaned but obeyed. He took a sip, grimaced.

"It’s lukewarm," he muttered.

"It’s supposed to be. You’re still having trouble digesting, idiot."

"Tch… you spent your life calling me an ice block. Now you’re my nurse? This is hell."

Sakazuki didn’t reply. He just looked at him, steadily. His features were less tense now. Less shadowed. But the fatigue lingered—deep, anchored.

"Did you sleep?" he finally asked.

"A little. Fewer nightmares last night. You were there… it helps."

A pause.

Sakazuki looked toward the window.

"I canceled two meetings this morning."

Kuzan raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Who are you, and what did you do with Fleet Admiral Akainu?"

"He’ll be back tomorrow. Today, I’m just… here."

Kuzan let out a faint laugh. Then sighed, weary.

"I hate this."

"What?"

"Being weak. Being looked at like this. Even you, when you look at me… I know you’re trying not to show it, but you look like I’ll break."

Sakazuki clenched his jaw.

He didn’t deny it.

But he said, quietly:

"Because I’m terrified that you will."

Kuzan slowly turned his head toward him. His gaze was bare, for once. Not distant. Not sarcastic.

"I’m still here, Akainu."

"Sakazuki."

A beat.

Kuzan lowered his eyes slightly.

"Sakazuki."

He tested the name. Gently. As if weighing it on his tongue.

Then, even softer:

"Thank you… for being here."

Sakazuki looked away again, flustered. He cleared his throat like he was trying to shake off rising emotion.

"You should eat something."

"You’re changing the subject."

"Aren’t you hungry?"

"Maybe."

A faint smile touched his lips. There was still a long road ahead. But today, they were here. Together. In a quiet morning.

And nothing was more precious.

---

The light was soft. Time felt suspended in Sakazuki’s quarters. On the table, steam rose from a forgotten cup of tea.

Kuzan had been silent for long minutes, sitting on the couch, a blanket over his legs. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the fabric. His eyes were fixed on a vague spot in the room.

Sakazuki, on the other side of the table, waited. He knew something was coming. He said nothing. Didn’t push. He waited. Because he’d learned forcing Kuzan to speak only sealed his silence tighter.

Finally, Kuzan breathed in.

"I’ve been thinking…"

The voice was calm. Hesitant, but calm.

"I’m going to keep it."

A beat. The silence thickened. Sakazuki looked up.

Kuzan still wasn’t meeting his gaze. He went on, quietly:

"I’m scared. So scared. But I refuse to let that monster keep deciding what I do with my life. What he left me with… it hurts, yeah. But I want it to mean something."

He slowly turned his eyes to Sakazuki. A tired, but resolute look.

"I don’t know what kind of parent I’ll be. I only know one thing."

He swallowed hard.

"To me… the only father this child will ever know, if I keep it… will be you."

Sakazuki let out a silent gasp. He hadn’t expected that. He opened his mouth, closed it again, words failing him. A faint blush colored his cheeks.

Kuzan lowered his eyes, embarrassed.

"Obviously… if you don’t want that, I get it. You don’t have to—"

"Did you even listen to me earlier?"

Sakazuki’s voice was soft, but firm.

Kuzan looked up.

"I’m here. I’m staying. And if you want us to raise this child together… then it’s mine. End of story."

A silence. Heavy. Charged.

Then Sakazuki, a little awkwardly, leaned over and placed his large hand over Kuzan’s.

"You’re not alone," he murmured. "Not anymore."

Kuzan felt his throat tighten. He looked down. No tears came this time—just a new warmth, fragile but real.

A choice had been made. And this time… it was his.

---

Calm had returned. A fragile, comforting calm.

Kuzan and Sakazuki sat beside each other on the couch, saying nothing for a while. The silence wasn’t heavy. Just… awkward.

Sakazuki cleared his throat.

"Did you… eat well earlier?"

Kuzan turned his head toward him, amusement in his eyes.

"You’re seriously asking if I ate well, after everything we just said?"

"I’m trying to make conversation," Sakazuki grumbled, embarrassed. "Not my strong suit, okay?"

Kuzan smiled. He couldn’t believe seeing him like this… so awkward. He’d seen Sakazuki order bombardments with more confidence than this attempt at small talk.

"You know… you could also say what you feel," he said softly.

"I said I’d be here, didn’t I? That’s already a lot for me."

"Yeah. But how you feel… about me. Not just the baby."

Sakazuki froze.

His eyes fixed on a point on the floor, then slowly moved to their interlaced fingers on the couch. He still had Kuzan’s hand in his.

He took a long breath.

"I’m not good at this. You know that."

"I know."

"I don’t know how to say it without sounding like an idiot."

"Too late. You already do."

Sakazuki raised an eyebrow, then shook his head with a sigh. Then, quietly:

"I love you, idiot."

Kuzan felt his heart skip a beat. He blinked, lips slightly parted.

Sakazuki immediately fixed his gaze on the wall like it was the only escape left in the world.

"There. I said it. It’s messy, but I said it."

"You love me."

"Do I have to repeat it?"

"No… it’s just… did you really just say that? Sakazuki the Fleet Admiral? The guy who could shake a continent? That guy?"

"You’re going to bring this up every time, aren’t you?"

Kuzan shook his head with a soft laugh, then rested his forehead against Sakazuki’s shoulder.

"You’re an idiot."

"Will you hate me if I kiss you?"

"You gonna ask every time or…?"

Sakazuki leaned in. Slowly. Carefully. There was no rush, no force. Just that touching hesitation, that obvious respect.

Their lips brushed first. Then again, a bit more confidently. It was gentle. Warm. An awkward kiss, a little shaky… but sincere.

Kuzan closed his eyes.

There was no fear now. No past. Just this. This moment.

When they parted, he stayed close to Sakazuki, forehead to forehead, eyes half-closed.

"I love you too," he murmured, barely audible.

Sakazuki didn’t reply. But his arm wrapped around him. Held him close, tightly, as if afraid he’d vanish.

They stayed like that, for a long time.

Two men broken by war. By the world.
But who had finally found a bit of peace. At last.

---