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dethoratsThe first of several rather bitter-in-perspective ficlets about the marines, because I've been thinking about them a lot.
Title: Dusk
Rating: G
Pairing: none/gen, Sengoku main
Word Count: 565
Spoilers: Through 597
He was too old for this. Too damn old. At least Kong-san seemed to have understood. Sengoku moved slowly through the construction crews, returning salutes reflexively, only really seeing the faces of the marines who still bore evidence of the war on their bodies even as they worked on rebuilding Marineford. He had come out physically unscathed but his heart just wasn’t strong enough to lead the fight anymore. It ached, stabbed him during his sleepless nights and throbbed and burned during his tense and anxious days. A pain for every fallen and injured marine; a stutter for all of those who had yet to suffer; a pang for Garp and one for Whitebeard as well; and a dull heavy feeling like stone that he carried around for himself.
The memorial wasn’t completed yet but there was a solace to be found on the blood-consecrated ground. Sengoku sat on the bench and silently apologized to every marine who had suffered in the war, to every citizen who faced unwittingly the dangers that had been unleashed upon the world. He’d miscalculated, he’d gambled and lost, and even though the headlines told the story of the Navy’s triumph, he knew better. Whitebeard had defeated him at the last and the new age of pirates was, for the moment, turning out to be even more dangerous than the last.
Upsetting the balance of power, oh, he had known what he was doing. It had been against his better judgment in some ways, and he’d regretted hurting Garp, but the World Government would not be denied once it knew the truth about Ace, saw a way to put an end to the pirate era awakened by his progenitor. Whitebeard would come, of that there had been no doubt. The crafty old man had responded to the thrown gauntlet, had taken it and turned the very intent of the war on its ear with his dying breath. And more than that, for the moment at least, he’d left behind a power vacuum. If Marco or one of the remaining Emperors didn’t step in soon, life on many of the islands in the New World was going to go to hell.
Between supernova rookies, revitalized old hands, and the deadly menace that was Blackbeard, not even counting the possibility of escaped Level 6 prisoners reaching the area, every piece of Whitebeard’s territory was up for grabs and they were all fighting for a chunk of the pie. The marines could do little to stop it. Hell, he was forbidden from even warning the people of the world about the dangers of the escaped prisoners. He had sworn to serve and to protect, to defend the world against pirates. Whitebeard had done a better job of that than he ever had and it was through his actions that those islands had become easy prey.
It was all just too much; a final defeat at the hands of an enemy he’d genuinely respected. Best, he had decided as the tallies of the dead and wounded came in and the gag order came down from above about Impel Down, to retire. To work with young marine recruits and teach them everything he knew so that they’d be better equipped to face the coming fight. It wasn’t much in the way of atonement but, at the moment, Sengoku simply didn’t have the strength for more.
Title: Dusk
Rating: G
Pairing: none/gen, Sengoku main
Word Count: 565
Spoilers: Through 597
He was too old for this. Too damn old. At least Kong-san seemed to have understood. Sengoku moved slowly through the construction crews, returning salutes reflexively, only really seeing the faces of the marines who still bore evidence of the war on their bodies even as they worked on rebuilding Marineford. He had come out physically unscathed but his heart just wasn’t strong enough to lead the fight anymore. It ached, stabbed him during his sleepless nights and throbbed and burned during his tense and anxious days. A pain for every fallen and injured marine; a stutter for all of those who had yet to suffer; a pang for Garp and one for Whitebeard as well; and a dull heavy feeling like stone that he carried around for himself.
The memorial wasn’t completed yet but there was a solace to be found on the blood-consecrated ground. Sengoku sat on the bench and silently apologized to every marine who had suffered in the war, to every citizen who faced unwittingly the dangers that had been unleashed upon the world. He’d miscalculated, he’d gambled and lost, and even though the headlines told the story of the Navy’s triumph, he knew better. Whitebeard had defeated him at the last and the new age of pirates was, for the moment, turning out to be even more dangerous than the last.
Upsetting the balance of power, oh, he had known what he was doing. It had been against his better judgment in some ways, and he’d regretted hurting Garp, but the World Government would not be denied once it knew the truth about Ace, saw a way to put an end to the pirate era awakened by his progenitor. Whitebeard would come, of that there had been no doubt. The crafty old man had responded to the thrown gauntlet, had taken it and turned the very intent of the war on its ear with his dying breath. And more than that, for the moment at least, he’d left behind a power vacuum. If Marco or one of the remaining Emperors didn’t step in soon, life on many of the islands in the New World was going to go to hell.
Between supernova rookies, revitalized old hands, and the deadly menace that was Blackbeard, not even counting the possibility of escaped Level 6 prisoners reaching the area, every piece of Whitebeard’s territory was up for grabs and they were all fighting for a chunk of the pie. The marines could do little to stop it. Hell, he was forbidden from even warning the people of the world about the dangers of the escaped prisoners. He had sworn to serve and to protect, to defend the world against pirates. Whitebeard had done a better job of that than he ever had and it was through his actions that those islands had become easy prey.
It was all just too much; a final defeat at the hands of an enemy he’d genuinely respected. Best, he had decided as the tallies of the dead and wounded came in and the gag order came down from above about Impel Down, to retire. To work with young marine recruits and teach them everything he knew so that they’d be better equipped to face the coming fight. It wasn’t much in the way of atonement but, at the moment, Sengoku simply didn’t have the strength for more.
