Chapter 77: A Nighttime Pact
The pirates of the New World seemed to realize the Navy was serious about its purge. A wave of panic spread among them. At first, patrols might encounter two or three pirate crews a day. Soon, finding one crew in two or three days became a lucky break. Whether they had been nearly wiped out or had simply gone to ground to wait out the storm, the seas grew quiet.
Satoru paid no mind to the wider campaign. Unless a pirate crew dared to enter his jurisdiction, he would not pursue them. For him now, rebuilding was more critical than hunting. The battle with Kaido had leveled almost every structure on the base. They had no proper shelter. The weather in the New World was notoriously volatile—pouring rain one minute, blizzards of snow the next, followed by thunderous black skies. During these storms, the Marines had no cover. They slept huddled together in groups for warmth. While they were tough, the extreme conditions wore them down. Many had already fallen ill with fever or chills.
For Satoru, this was no issue. His Infinity could block wind, rain, and snow. But he had to think of his men. With no other choice, he joined the labor force. One more pair of hands meant the work finished a day sooner. He lifted massive stone blocks and cleared rubble alongside his soldiers, his white hair often caked with mud and dust.
One evening, after a grueling day of work, the exhausted Marines settled into their makeshift tents. Satoru, who had closed his eyes to rest, suddenly opened them. His pale blue pupils glowed faintly in the dark.
A moment later, his figure vanished from the tent.
He reappeared on the rocky beach, the cold night wind whipping at his clothes. Waiting for him there, as if expecting his arrival, was a tall figure standing with his back to the sea.
"I didn't expect we'd meet again so soon," Satoru said, his voice calm. "I suppose I should thank you for saving my life last time, Mr. Dragon."
The figure turned slowly. Monkey D. Dragon's stern, tattooed face was partially shadowed by his hood, but his eyes were sharp. He looked puzzled.
"You knew?"
"Of course," Satoru replied. "I was unconscious, but my senses were still somewhat aware of my surroundings." He was genuinely grateful. If Dragon hadn't intervened, Garp's frantic shaking might have done real damage.
"My father told me about your… dream," Dragon said, his voice low and steady. "It makes me more certain than ever that inviting you was the right choice."
If Dragon's previous invitation had been based on Garp's word and a feeling, it was now grounded in evidence. The Revolutionary Army had its channels. They knew about the clash at G-8—that a ten-year-old Rear Admiral had not only survived an encounter with Kaido but had fought back. He hadn't won, but he hadn't been instantly crushed. That spoke of terrifying potential. A potential the Revolutionary Army desperately needed.
"So, Satoru," Dragon said, extending a hand. His gaze was intense, unwavering. "I formally invite you to join the Revolutionary Army. Help me change this rotten world."
Satoru looked at the offered hand, then back at Dragon's determined eyes. He saw a genuine, burning resolve.
"Mr. Dragon, I have a question for you."
"Ask."
"If you succeed… if you overthrow the World Government, can you guarantee the new world you build won't become just like the one you destroyed?"
Dragon fell silent. The wind howled across the beach. He could not give that guarantee. He didn't know how people's minds would change with power. He didn't even know if his own ideals would remain pure decades from now. History was full of revolutions that birthed new tyrannies.
"I don't know," Dragon admitted finally, his voice heavy with honesty. "But I will strive with everything I am to prevent that."
Satoru was slightly surprised. He had expected a firm, idealistic 'never.' This honest uncertainty was more compelling. It showed Dragon was a realist as much as a dreamer.
"That answer is unexpected," Satoru said. A faint smile touched his lips. "But it doesn't matter. I'll join you."
Dragon's eyes widened slightly. He had prepared for a refusal.
"But," Satoru continued, his tone turning serious, his blue eyes sharpening. "There is one condition. If, in the future, the Revolutionary Army becomes another evil dragon, no different from the Celestial Dragons you fight now… I will not hesitate to destroy it. Believe me. By that time, I will have the strength to do so."
It was both a promise and a warning.
Dragon considered this, then gave a slow, firm nod. "If I ever become part of such corruption, I will offer you my life willingly."
He could not speak for every member of his army. But he could speak for himself.
"I hope it never comes to that," Satoru said.
"Welcome to the Revolutionary Army."
Their hands clasped—one large and calloused, one small but firm. Two bearers of the initial 'D,' standing on a storm-wracked shore, bound by a pact to change the world.
"If you need assistance," Dragon said, "contact us. We will help if we can."
"Good."
"And," Dragon added, a hint of a shrewd look in his eye, "if the Revolutionary Army ever requires your aid, I hope you will not be stingy."
Satoru paused. He suddenly felt like he'd stepped into a carefully laid trap. What could the Revolutionary Army possibly need from a ten-year-old Rear Admiral? But then he thought of the things he could provide: information, resources from a Marine base, a legitimate cover…
"You're a cunning man, Dragon," Satoru said, not without admiration.
"It can't be helped," Dragon replied, the ghost of a sly smile on his lips. "In the early days of a revolution, one must mobilize every available force."
With a final nod, Dragon's form seemed to dissolve into the swirling night breeze, leaving Satoru alone on the beach with the sound of the waves and the weight of a new, secret allegiance.
(End of Chapter)
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