Chapter 16: A Declaration in the Deep
The silence that had fallen in their immediate vicinity was a fragile bubble in the chaos of the plaza. Robin's mind, a fortress of historical data and analytical thought, scrambled to process the impossible variables before her. The man—Arata—had not simply moved fast. He had transcended movement, appearing with the sudden, absolute finality of a lightning strike. The air still crackled with the aftermath of his power, a sharp, clean scent of ozone cutting through the brine and blood. His eyes, glowing with the warmth of captured sunlight, held hers with an intensity that was neither predatory nor lustful, but… reverent.
"My name is Arata," he had said, his voice a low thrum that vibrated in her very bones. "And I have crossed seas of lightning and depths of shadow to find you, Nico Robin. Your storm is over. I am your shelter now."
The words were absurdly grandiose, the kind of declaration a naive child might make after reading too many fairy tales. Yet, the sheer, unshakable conviction in his tone, coupled with the divine power he had just casually displayed, made them feel not like a fantasy, but a prophecy. For a woman whose life had been a relentless tempest of betrayal and flight, the concept of "shelter" was more foreign than the Poneglyphs she deciphered.
Before she could form a coherent question, the world rushed back in. A fish-man, enraged by his comrade's fall and emboldened by his energy steroid, let out a guttural roar and charged, a massive hammer held high. "Out of the way, human!"
Arata didn't even turn to look. He simply raised his left hand, palm open, towards the charging threat. A visible shield of crackling golden energy, the "Raimei no Tate" (Thunder Shield), materialized in the water between them. The fish-man's hammer, swung with all his enhanced might, connected with the shield. There was a sound like a thousand bells shattering at once, and the hammer exploded into shrapnel. The concussive force traveled up the fish-man's arms, dislocating his shoulders and sending him flying backward into a pillar, which cracked under the impact.
It was not a fight. It was a dismissal.
This second display broke the spell of shock on the other New Fish-Man Pirates. A squad of them, armed with spears and swords, coordinated their attack, coming from multiple angles. Robin's instincts flared. "Clutch!" she called out, arms crossing to manifest her own limbs on the attackers.
But she was too slow. Arata moved.
He became a blur of grey and gold, a tempest given human form. He didn't throw punches; he delivered precise, open-handed strikes to chests and temples, each touch accompanied by a soft crackle and the faint smell of burnt air. His movements were economical, effortless. He wasn't brawling; he was conducting. A flick of his wrist sent a fish-man spinning away, convulsing. A light tap of his foot on the ground created a localized shockwave that unbalanced three others, leaving them vulnerable to a flurry of disembodied hands from Robin that swiftly pinned them to the floor.
In less than five seconds, a dozen fish-men lay incapacitated around them, a perfect circle of calm in the raging battle. Arata stood in the center, his breathing even, his clothes unruffled. He turned back to Robin, his expression calm, as if he had just swatted a few flies.
"Are you unhurt?" he asked, his focus entirely on her.
Robin slowly lowered her own arms, the spectral limbs dissolving into petals. Her heart was pounding, but her voice, when she found it, was its usual measured, melodic tone. "I was perfectly capable of handling that."
A faint, appreciative smile touched his lips. "I do not doubt it. The records speak of your formidable strength. But capability should not necessitate struggle. Not anymore."
"The records?" Robin's eyes narrowed, her historian's mind latching onto the specific word. "Who are you? What is your business with me?"
The sounds of Luffy's distant battle with Hody Jones echoed through the water, a reminder that the larger conflict was far from over. Arata's gaze flickered towards the noise for a fraction of a second before returning to her, his expression turning serious.
"That is a long story, and one that deserves more than a battlefield confession," he said. "My business is your safety. My purpose is your freedom to pursue the history you love without looking over your shoulder. For now, that means ensuring your crew's victory here." He looked towards where Zoro was fighting underwater. "It seems your swordsman could use a breath of air."
Before Robin could respond, Arata raised a single finger. A thin, precise bolt of lightning, no thicker than a needle, shot from his fingertip. It didn't travel through the water; it tunneled through it, creating a momentary vacuum. It struck the ground precisely between Zoro and his opponent, Hyouzou. The resulting micro-explosion of superheated water and concussive force didn't harm Zoro, but it forced Hyouzou back, creating a precious second of respite. More importantly, the violent energy discharge momentarily vaporized the water immediately around Zoro's head, giving him a single, gasping breath of air.
Zoro's eyes widened in shock, his body instinctively inhaling the unexpected oxygen. He glanced around, his gaze locking onto Arata for a moment across the chaotic plaza. He gave a curt, acknowledging nod before refocusing on Hyouzou with renewed vigor.
Robin watched the exchange, her mind reeling. The control was… godlike. He could manipulate lightning with surgical precision, use it not just for destruction, but for tactical support, all while carrying on a conversation.
"You see?" Arata said, turning back to her. "I am not here to replace your crew. I am here to reinforce them. To be the pillar that ensures the structure never crumbles. When this battle is done, we will talk. You have my word."
He offered her a final, deep look, a promise held in his golden eyes, and then he turned, his attention shifting to another part of the plaza where more of her friends were fighting. He was a storm, but for her, he promised a calm eye. And for the first time in her life, Nico Robin, the woman who trusted only the demons of Ohara, found herself dangerously close to believing in a god.