Aftermath
The silence that followed was heavier than any cannonade. The Moby Dick, or what was left of it, drifted aimlessly, a wounded beast licking its sores. The infirmary had been obliterated, so the main deck had become a makeshift triage center.
Jozu had a deep crack running through his diamond arm. Vista was being patched up by the ship's nurses, his breathing shallow from a dozen broken ribs. Most commanders were bruised, battered, and exhausted, but their wounds were shallow. The true casualties were the pillars of their family.
Whitebeard lay on a large, hastily assembled cot, his chest bare. A massive, jagged scar from Kizaru's light sword sizzled near his heart. His eyes were closed, his breathing labored. The battle had triggered a massive heart attack, and Marco, his own body still knitting itself back together, was working feverishly over him. Blue flames danced on the old man's chest, not just healing, but desperately trying to stabilize the rampaging giant within.
A few feet away, Gunnar lay on another cot, a web of IV drips connected to his arms. He was unconscious, his body a patchwork of severe burns from Kizaru's light, deep lacerations, and the internal damage from a failed transformation.
Ace stood watching, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. His face was a thunderous mask of frustration and self-loathing. "Charlotte Linlin… Shiki… Kizaru… all at once," he seethed, pacing back and forth. "We were completely outplayed. We lost her. I let them throw me in the ocean like a child."
Thatch, his arm in a sling, put a hand on Ace's shoulder. "Stop it, Ace. None of us could have predicted this. Three legends ganging up on us? It's a miracle the whole fleet isn't at the bottom of the sea."
"A miracle?" Ace spat, shrugging off the hand. "We lost Pops' grandchild! We lost Smoothie! Gunnar almost tore himself apart! What part of that is a miracle?!"
His frustration echoed the sentiment of the entire crew. They were a family of wolves who had just watched a pup get stolen from their den. Every single pirate, from the newest recruit to the most seasoned commander, was ready to sail to Whole Cake Island and burn it to the ground.
---
Totto Land – One Day Later
Smoothie awoke in a room of spun sugar and soft velvet. The air smelled of vanilla and almonds. Nurses, silent and efficient, checked on her vitals. She felt the steady, strong heartbeat of her child within her and let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Charlotte Pudding sat beside her bed, her third eye hidden beneath her bangs. "You're awake, sister."
"Pudding…" Smoothie whispered, her voice hoarse. "What…?"
"Mama brought you back," Pudding explained, her voice a mixture of relief and nervousness. "The whole crew is talking about it. The war with the Whitebeard Pirates… they say it was the biggest clash since God Valley."
Smoothie's hand went to her stomach. She remembered the fall, the blinding light, Whitebeard's colossal back… and Gunnar's scream.
"Forget all that for now," Pudding said, her tone softening. "You're here now. You're safe. You can't escape from here, not with Mama watching. Just… rest. For the baby."
Smoothie looked out the candy-paned window at the bizarre, sweet landscape of Whole Cake Island. She caressed her stomach, a fierce, protective instinct flaring in her eyes. Pudding was right. Her impulsive actions, her desire for freedom, had led to this catastrophe. She couldn't afford to be reckless now.
Gunnar, she thought, a pang of longing and pain in her chest. I'm sorry.
"For now," she said aloud, her voice firm, "I need to make sure this baby is delivered safely. Other matters can wait." She would not be a damsel in distress. She would be a mother. She would wait, conserve her strength, and trust that her husband, the stubborn, idiotic, impossibly strong man she loved, would do what he always did.
---
Moby Dick – One Day Later
Gunnar woke up with a gasp, bolting upright. The pain was immediate and excruciating, a symphony of agony from every nerve in his body. He looked down at himself. He was covered in bandages, thick stitches crisscrossing his chest, arms, and back. He swung his legs over the side of the cot, ignoring the protests of the nurses.
He stormed out onto the deck, his movements stiff, his face a mask of cold fury. He saw the crew, their faces grim, their eyes burning with a desire for vengeance.
"He's awake!" someone shouted.
Gunnar walked to the railing and stared out at the sea. "She's with Big Mom. Shiki got to her.."
"We're ready, Gunnar," Jozu rumbled, his diamond arm now wrapped in bandages. "Just give the word."
"Why are we waiting?" Gunnar snarled, turning to face them. "Let's go. We sail to Totto Land, and we take her back. We'll burn that candy kingdom to ash."
"That would be a foolish and costly mistake."
The voice was calm and sharp. Isshin stepped forward, his expression serious.
Gunnar's bloodshot eyes snapped to him. "What did you say?"
"A full-scale invasion of a Yonko's home territory, while our captain and our strongest fighter are severely injured?" Isshin stated, gesturing to Gunnar's own bandaged form, then toward the cot where Whitebeard still lay. "It is a war we are not prepared to win."
"We will win through sheer force of will!" Gunnar roared.
"Will does not stop cannonballs, nor does it heal fatal wounds," Isshin countered, his gaze unwavering. He looked at Whitebeard, at the massive, stitched wound that ran from his collarbone nearly to his navel. "We need Pops at his full power. To go now would be to throw our lives away and doom Smoothie to her fate."
Gunnar's rage was a physical thing, but Isshin's logic was a cold, hard wall. He had a point. A terrible, infuriating point.
Whitebeard, from his cot, stirred. "Isshin… is right," he rasped, his voice a shadow of its former power. The anger in his eyes, however, was undiminished.
"Then what do we do?!" Gunnar demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. "We just wait?!"
"No," Isshin said, stepping forward. "We do not wage a war. We execute a mission. An undercover infiltration. We get her out secretly, without alerting their main forces. No grand fleet, no declaration of war. A scalpel, not a sledgehammer."
The commanders looked at each other. The idea was bold, dangerous, but it made sense.
Gunnar pulled a piece of paper from a pouch on his belt. It was a Vivre Card, pointing steadily in one direction. Smoothie's.
"I'll lead it," Gunnar said, his voice now cold and focused. "Division Zero will handle this personally." He looked at Marco, Vista, and the other commanders. "You all stay here. The fleet needs its leaders. Your presence will act as a distraction. Let them think we are recovering, preparing for a war that isn't coming. They'll be watching the fleet, not a single, small ship."
He looked at Ace and Isshin. "You two are with me."
"You're in no condition to sail, let alone fight!" Marco protested, stepping forward.
"I will be by the time we get there," Gunnar said, his resolve absolute. He held up Smoothie's Vivre Card. "And I'm not going to cause trouble… unless it becomes absolutely necessary." He strapped a new sword to his hip and began walking toward one of the smaller, faster ships docked alongside the Moby Dick. "We set sail now."