Hi everyone!
This is my first time writing a Naruto x One Piece story so I hope you all like it!
I Present…
Chapter 1: The Ghost of Ohara
Start:
The desert wind carried more than sand across Whiskey Peak—it carried the weight of twenty years' worth of lies.
Naruto Uzumaki stood at the bow of the unmarked Marine vessel, his white coat whipping behind him like a war banner, eyes fixed on the town that sprawled across the horizon like a wound in the earth. The setting sun bled across the sky, turning the clouds into bruises of purple and gold, and somewhere in that dying light was a woman who'd spent two decades running from a crime she'd committed at eight years old: learning to read.
Not just any reading. The Poneglyphs. Ancient stones that whispered secrets the World Government would kill to keep buried.
He was twenty years old and already carried the kind of authority that made Vice Admirals nervous. Admiral Aokiji's personal student. Trained by both the Lazy Justice advocate and the legendary Garp the Fist. The Marine who operated outside the chain of command, answerable only to Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself. Some called it privilege. Naruto called it a leash long enough to let him see how far he could run before the collar tightened.
Today, he intended to find out.
"Sir." Lieutenant Yamada approached with the careful deference of a man who'd learned that Naruto's youth was inversely proportional to his danger. "Reconnaissance confirms a pirate crew departed at dawn. The Straw Hat Pirates—they're rookies who just entered the Grand Line. Captain has a thirty million berry bounty from East Blue. No significant threat level yet. The town's still recovering from some kind of altercation."
"Casualties?"
"Minimal. Mostly pride." Yamada consulted his notes. "Local bounty hunters tried their luck. Turns out even rookie pirates from East Blue can handle amateurs when they're drunk and overconfident."
Naruto's mouth twitched. Straw Hat Luffy. The name had crossed his desk exactly once—thirty million berries for punching out a Marine captain and some East Blue warlord wannabe. Remarkable for that sea, but the Grand Line ate rookies like that for breakfast. The kid would either die within a month or become something interesting. Time would tell.
But Naruto wasn't here for rookie pirates.
"The woman," he said quietly. "Nico Robin. Confirm her presence with the crew."
Yamada's expression tightened. Every Marine knew that name. Seventy-nine million berry bounty. Wanted since age eight—the youngest person to ever receive a bounty of that magnitude. The Demon Child of Ohara, sole survivor of the island that had tried to uncover the Void Century. The girl who could read Poneglyphs and supposedly lead anyone to the ancient weapons that could destroy the world.
Supposedly.
"Intelligence indicates she was observed in Whiskey Peak around the time the pirates arrived," Yamada said carefully. "But she didn't travel with them. Reports suggest she was in town before they arrived and remained after their departure. Current whereabouts unknown."
"She's still here."
"Sir?"
Naruto turned to face his lieutenant fully. In the dying light, his blue eyes seemed to glow with something that wasn't quite Haki but felt just as dangerous. "Nico Robin spent twenty years surviving by being three steps ahead of everyone hunting her. She doesn't show herself near rookie pirates unless she needs something specific—either from them or from a location they've drawn attention away from. She's still here because whatever she came for, she hasn't finished yet."
Yamada absorbed this with the expression of a man realizing his commanding officer was either brilliant or insane. Possibly both. "What are your orders?"
"Drop anchor here. Set up a perimeter, but make it obvious—I want anyone watching to know we're here. No patrols into the town itself. Anyone asks, tell them we're maintaining presence after the pirate incident."
"And in reality?"
"In reality, you're going to sit here and wait for me to come back." Naruto shrugged off his Marine coat and tossed it to Yamada, who caught it reflexively. Underneath, Naruto wore simple black combat gear that made him look more like a bounty hunter than a Marine. "If I'm not back by dawn, send a message to Vice Admiral Garp. Not Akainu, not Kizaru, not even Aokiji-sensei. Only Garp. Tell him the Ohara situation has escalated and I've initiated Protocol Sanctuary."
The blood drained from Yamada's face. "Sir, Protocol Sanctuary requires authorization from—"
"From someone with enough clout to tell the World Government to go to hell without getting executed for it," Naruto finished. "Garp's the only one who fits that description. He'll know what to do."
"And if he doesn't agree?"
Naruto smiled, but there was something sad in it. "Then I guess I'll find out if all those stories about him adopting strays are actually true."
He turned and stepped off the ship's railing, dropping fifty feet to the sandy ground below. Chakra flooded his legs at the last moment, cushioning the impact so thoroughly that he landed without even disturbing the sand. Behind him, he heard the sharp intake of breath from the sailors who'd witnessed it—they'd seen him do impossible things before, but familiarity never quite bred comfort.
Good. Comfortable people grew complacent. Uncomfortable people stayed sharp.
The town of Whiskey Peak had the aesthetics of a party and the atmosphere of a funeral. Buildings shaped like cacti and bottles created a skyline that would have been charming if half of them weren't damaged from the recent brawl. Naruto walked through streets littered with debris, past windows where townspeople watched him with expressions ranging from curiosity to fear. A Marine this young, walking alone through a town recently visited by pirates—he was either incredibly dangerous or incredibly stupid.
Naruto had spent his entire life teaching people the difference.
His sensory abilities unfurled like invisible radar, mapping the town in layers of emotional resonance. Fear—residual, clinging to the walls like smoke. Confusion—the townspeople trying to reconcile their bounty hunter ambitions with the reality of how badly they'd miscalculated. Exhaustion. Pain. The normal human responses to violence and loss.
And there, at the very edge of his perception, something else. Something that felt like a shadow had learned to think, a darkness so carefully controlled it almost registered as emptiness. Someone who'd spent twenty years teaching themselves to have no emotional presence at all.
Naruto smiled.
Found you.
He followed that absence like a thread through a maze, past the damaged buildings and into the outskirts where Whiskey Peak bled into pure desert. The sun was nearly gone now, the last rays painting everything in shades of amber and blood. Appropriate, given what he was about to do.
She was waiting in the ruins of what had once been a warehouse—destroyed recently, probably during the pirates' departure. Nico Robin stood among the rubble with the posture of someone who'd long ago accepted that the world was a weapon pointed at her head, tall and impossibly poised in a purple cowboy hat and clothes that seemed designed to draw attention while revealing nothing of substance. Her eyes tracked his approach with the calculation of a predator evaluating prey.
Or perhaps another predator recognizing competition.
"You're persistent," she said, her voice carrying the kind of sardonic amusement people used when they were buying time to plan their escape. "When the Marines arrived, I assumed they were here for those rookie pirates. But you walked right past the harbor and came straight here. That suggests you knew exactly where to look."
"I did," Naruto said simply. He stopped twenty feet away—close enough to talk, far enough to dodge if those dangerous arms of hers started blooming. "Hello, Nico Robin. Or should I call you the Demon Child of Ohara?"
Her expression didn't flicker, but Naruto felt the shift in her emotional presence—a spike of tension quickly smothered. "You've done your research. Should I be flattered that the Marines sent someone so young and important? I've heard whispers about you. Uzumaki
Naruto. Admiral Aokiji's golden boy. Garp's latest project. The Marine who operates outside the normal chain of command."
"Is that what they're saying about me?" Naruto's tone was light, but his eyes never left hers. "I prefer to think of it as focusing on missions that matter instead of ones that just maintain the status quo."
"How philosophical." Robin's smile was razor-sharp, but her body was coiled tight, ready to move. "But philosophy doesn't explain why you're here alone, without backup, talking instead of attacking. What's your game, Marine?"
"No game." Naruto took a single step forward, and saw Robin's shoulders tense infinitesimally. "I'm here because six months ago, I read a classified report about Ohara. About what really happened the day your island burned. And I've been looking for you ever since."
The temperature dropped. Not literally—Naruto wasn't using any technique—but the emotional shift was so profound it felt physical. Robin's carefully constructed mask cracked, just for a second, and beneath it Naruto glimpsed something raw and wounded and infinitely dangerous.
"Careful, Marine," she said softly, and dozens of eyes bloomed across the surrounding rubble, watching him from every angle with unsettling focus. "That's a very dangerous topic to speak aloud. People who talk about Ohara tend to have tragically short lifespans."
"I know." Naruto didn't move, didn't reach for a weapon. "Vice Admiral Sakazuki made sure of that. The 'refugee ship incident.' A vessel full of civilians trying to escape, and he sank it personally to ensure no scholars survived. He called it thoroughness. I call it what it actually was: murder to cover up the Government's crimes."
Robin's hands moved in a blur of crossing motion. "Seis Fleur!"
Six arms erupted from Naruto's body itself—shoulders, chest, neck—grabbing and twisting with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd killed hundreds of people this way. It was an attack designed to be inescapable, using the victim's own body as leverage against them, snapping spines and crushing windpipes before they could even process what was happening.
The arms shattered against Naruto's skin like porcelain against steel, fragmenting into petals that dissolved into nothing.
Robin's eyes widened fractionally—the first real surprise Naruto had seen from her. "Armament Haki? At your age?"
"Something like that." Naruto held up his hand, and Robin could see the faint shimmer of chakra coating his skin like invisible armor. "I'm not from this world originally. Different power system, same basic principle—coat yourself in your life force and suddenly physics becomes negotiable."
He lowered his hand slowly, deliberately non-threatening. "But I'm not here to show off, Robin. I'm here because you deserve to know that someone in the Marines actually knows the truth about what happened to Ohara. Someone who doesn't think you're a demon."
"The truth?" Robin's laugh was bitter, sharp enough to cut. "The Marines created the truth. They wrote it, distributed it, enforced it with Buster Calls and bounties on eight-year-old children. The truth is whatever they say it is, and what they say is that I'm a monster who needs to die."
"The official story is that the scholars of Ohara were trying to revive ancient weapons," Naruto said quietly, his voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. "That they were a threat to world stability. That the Buster Call was a necessary evil to prevent catastrophe. That an eight-year-old girl who could read Poneglyphs was too dangerous to live. That's the truth the World Government wants everyone to believe."
He paused, holding her gaze. "And it's a lie. Every single word of it."
The silence that followed was absolute. Even the desert wind seemed to still.
Robin stared at him, this impossible young Marine who spoke about truths that should have gotten him executed the moment they left his mouth. Her mind raced through possibilities, analyzing angles, searching for the trap because there was always a trap. Always.
"Why?" The word came out sharp, accusatory. "Why would you know this and still wear that uniform? Why serve an organization built on lies and the bones of innocent people? What kind of justice is that?"
"The kind that needs to be changed," Naruto said, and there was steel beneath the gentleness in his voice. "Running away from evil doesn't stop it, Robin. It just means you're not there when it hurts someone else. I became a Marine to change things from inside, not to maintain them as they are. And that starts with acknowledging when we've done something unforgivable."
"How wonderfully noble." Robin's voice dripped with venom and skepticism. "Let me guess—you're going to offer me redemption? A chance to turn myself in? Perhaps a cell with a window if I cooperate and tell you everything I know about the Poneglyphs?"
"No," Naruto said simply. "I'm not here to arrest you."
"Then what? What exactly do you want from me?"
"Nothing right now." Naruto's expression was earnest, almost painfully so. "I'm here to tell you that I know what happened. I know the scholars were innocent. I know you were a child who survived something that should have killed you, and instead of protecting you, the world decided you were easier to hunt than the people who actually committed the crime. That's not justice. That's cowardice."
Robin felt something twist in her chest—something that might have been anger or grief or the ghost of a hope she'd killed twenty years ago. "And what exactly am I supposed to do with this information? Thank you? Forgive the Marines? Do you expect me to believe that one idealistic boy knowing the truth changes anything?"
"I expect you to keep surviving," Naruto said. "That's what you're good at. That's what you've done for twenty years despite everything the world threw at you. But I also want you to know that if you ever get tired of running, if you ever decide you want something more than just survival—there might be another option."
"There is no other option." Robin's words were cold, final, carrying the weight of two decades of bitter experience. "The World Government wants me dead. The Marines hunt me like an animal. Pirates use me for what I can read and discard me when I'm no longer useful. There is no safe harbor for someone like me. There is only survival, and survival means trusting absolutely no one."
"I understand why you believe that," Naruto said gently. "Twenty years is a long time to be hunted. Twenty years is a long time to learn that trust is just another word for betrayal. But understanding your perspective doesn't make it the only perspective. Things can change, Robin. People can change. Systems can change. It just takes someone willing to start."
"And you think you're that someone?" Robin's smile was cutting, dangerous. "How refreshingly arrogant. Tell me, Marine—what happens when your superiors discover you let me go? What happens when they realize you knew exactly where I was and chose to have this lovely philosophical discussion instead of bringing me in?"
"Then I'll deal with those consequences." Naruto's voice was steady, unshakeable. "That's what responsibility means. You accept the costs of your choices instead of making others pay for them."
Robin studied him for a long moment, searching for the angle, the manipulation, the inevitable betrayal that twenty years of survival had taught her was always coming. But all she saw was earnest conviction and something that looked dangerously like genuine hope.
"You're going to get yourself killed," she said finally, and there might have been the faintest trace of something other than contempt in her voice. "Idealists always do. The world eats people like you alive."
"Maybe," Naruto agreed with that same impossible smile. "But I'd rather die trying to do something right than live safely while doing nothing at all. Besides, I'm a lot harder to kill than I look."
He took a step back, creating distance. "I'm going to leave now, Robin. I'm going to go back to my ship and file a report saying that I arrived too late, that you'd already disappeared into the desert like the ghost everyone thinks you are. No one will question it because that's what you always do—vanish like smoke the moment anyone gets too close."
"Why?" Robin's voice was sharp with suspicion, her hands ready to summon arms at the slightest wrong move. "Why let me go? What do you possibly gain from this?"
"Nothing immediately," Naruto admitted. "But maybe someday you'll remember that a Marine looked at you and saw a person instead of a bounty. Maybe that memory will matter when you're making a choice about whether to trust someone again. Or maybe it won't, and this conversation will just be another strange footnote in your very long list of strange encounters. Either way, it's worth the risk to me."
He turned to leave, but paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "One more thing, Robin. When we meet again—and we will meet again—I won't be asking permission. I'm going to prove to you that justice can actually mean something real instead of just propaganda. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but I'm done watching good people suffer for the crimes of evil ones."
"It doesn't matter what you want," Robin said coldly, but something in her voice wavered. "I've survived this long by never staying in one place, never trusting anyone, never believing in anything except my own ability to disappear. Whatever idealistic fantasy you're building in your head about saving me—let it go. I don't need saving. I don't want saving. I just want to be left alone."
"Then I guess I'll have to prove you wrong about that too." Naruto's smile was sad, understanding, and utterly unshakeable. "Take care of yourself, Robin. Try not to get killed before I can show you what justice actually looks like."
He walked away, his footsteps steady in the sand, leaving Robin standing alone among the ruins.
She watched him disappear into the growing darkness, her mind churning with suspicion and confusion and something that might have been the faintest ember of curiosity. No Marine had ever spoken to her like that. No one had ever let her go after confirming her identity. It made no sense. It violated everything she'd learned about survival, about trust, about the fundamental nature of a world that had branded her a demon before she'd even understood what that meant.
Which meant it was either the most elaborate trap she'd ever encountered, or something far more dangerous than any Buster Call.
Hope.
Robin crushed that thought immediately. Hope was poison. Hope got people killed. She'd learned that lesson watching Ohara burn, watching her mother die reaching for her across an ocean of fire, watching the World Government turn her into a monster to hide their own monstrous crimes.
But as she slipped away into the night, disappearing into the patterns of survival she'd perfected over twenty years, a small traitorous part of her mind kept returning to those blue eyes and that impossible offer.
When we meet again.
Not if. When.
Absurd. Suicidal. Utterly foolish.
She would never see him again. She would make sure of it.
Never.
Five Days Later - Somewhere in the Grand Line
The information broker's office smelled like old paper and older secrets. Robin sat across from the weaselly man, her posture relaxed but her senses hyperaware of every exit, every potential weapon, every shadow that might hide an enemy.
"You're certain?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
The broker nodded, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. "Absolutely certain, Miss. The report came through official Marine channels. Commander Uzumaki Naruto filed documentation claiming he arrived at Whiskey Peak too late to apprehend you. Fleet Admiral Sengoku accepted the report without question."
Robin's fingers drummed once against her armrest. "And there was no follow-up? No investigation into why a Marine of his caliber failed to track me?"
"None whatsoever. In fact..." The broker hesitated, then continued when Robin's gaze sharpened. "There's been some unusual communication between Marineford and Vice Admiral Garp. Encrypted channels. Very hush-hush. The only thing my sources could confirm was a mention of something called 'Protocol Sanctuary.'"
Robin went very still.
"Do you know what that means?" the broker asked nervously.
"No," Robin lied smoothly, standing up and placing a stack of berries on the desk. "And neither do you. Forget I asked about this."
"Of course, Miss. Always a pleasure doing business with—"
But Robin was already gone, vanishing through the window like she'd never been there at all.
Three rooftops away, she finally stopped, her mind racing.
Protocol Sanctuary.
She'd heard whispers about it over the years. A ghost protocol, something that supposedly existed in Marine law but had never been invoked. A mechanism designed to protect individuals who'd been wronged by the World Government itself. A way to offer asylum to someone the Government wanted dead.
It was theoretical. Hypothetical. Political suicide for anyone who tried to actually use it.
And that insane Marine had apparently invoked it. For her.
Robin laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just the sharp edge of hysteria trying to break through two decades of carefully constructed emotional control.
"You absolute fool," she whispered to the empty air.
But even as she said it, her hand moved unconsciously to the pocket where she'd stored the information broker's report. The report that confirmed Naruto had done exactly what he'd said he would do. Protected her. At the cost of his own political standing.
Hope flickered again, and this time Robin didn't quite manage to crush it completely.
The Same Night - Marineford, Garp's Office
"You did WHAT?"
Vice Admiral Garp's bellow could probably be heard three islands away. Naruto stood at attention in front of the legendary Marine's desk, his expression calm despite the fact that Garp looked like he was seriously considering throwing him through the wall.
"I invoked Protocol Sanctuary for Nico Robin," Naruto repeated calmly. "She's a survivor of Ohara, not a criminal. She deserves—"
"I know what she deserves!" Garp slammed his fist on the desk, and the entire structure groaned ominously. "I was there, boy! I know exactly what happened at Ohara! I know what Sakazuki did! I know the Government's been hunting a child for two decades because she's the only living proof of their crimes!"
Naruto blinked. "You... knew?"
"Of course I knew!" Garp's voice dropped to something dangerous. "I've known since the day it happened. I wanted to do something about it. Sengoku wanted to do something about it. But we didn't, because we were cowards who valued our positions more than we valued doing the right thing."
He stood up, moving around the desk to face Naruto directly. "And now you—my student, who I trained to be better than I was—you went and did what I should have done twenty years ago."
The silence stretched between them.
"Are you angry?" Naruto asked quietly.
"Angry?" Garp laughed, and it was the sound of something breaking. "No, boy. I'm proud. And terrified. Because you just painted a target on your back that's never coming off. The World Government doesn't forgive challenges like this. The admirals—some of them, at least—won't stand for it. You've made enemies you can't even imagine yet."
"I know."
"Do you?" Garp's gaze was intense, searching. "Do you understand what's going to happen now? Aokiji might protect you because he's your teacher and because he practices Lazy Justice. I'll protect you because you're mine and because I don't give a damn what the Government thinks. But Akainu? He's going to come for you. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And when he does, it won't be subtle."
"Then I'll deal with it when it comes."
Garp studied him for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he grinned—that same wild, reckless grin that had made him a legend.
"Good answer," he said. "Now, let's talk about this Protocol Sanctuary business. You invoked it, which means technically I have to process it and forward it to Sengoku for official approval. But here's the thing, boy—Protocol Sanctuary has never actually been successfully invoked before. You know why?"
"Because no one's ever had the authority or the courage to push it through?"
"Partly. But also because the person invoking it has to take personal responsibility for the individual they're protecting. Total responsibility. If Nico Robin commits a crime, you answer for it. If she betrays the Marines, you take the fall. If she leads enemies to our doorstep, your head rolls first. You're not just protecting her—you're chaining yourself to her fate."
Garp leaned in close. "Are you prepared for that?"
Naruto didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Even if it costs you everything?"
"Even then."
Garp nodded slowly. "Then I'll forward this to Sengoku. He'll probably approve it because he's just as guilty as I am about Ohara, and this might be his chance to do something right. But Naruto—and listen to me carefully—the moment that girl officially falls under your protection, the real fight begins. Not against pirates. Against the Government itself."
"I understand."
"I don't think you do," Garp said quietly. "But you will."
He moved back to his desk and pulled out official documents, already beginning the paperwork that would change everything. "Get out of here. Go rest. Tomorrow, things get complicated."
Naruto saluted and turned to leave.
"Hey, brat," Garp called out.
Naruto paused at the door.
"Your parents would be proud of you. Wherever they are."
Naruto's throat tightened, but he managed a smile. "Thank you, Garp-san."
The door closed behind him, leaving Garp alone with documents that would reshape the future of the Marines.
"Damn idealistic kids," Garp muttered, but he was grinning as he said it. "Remind me too much of myself when I was young and stupid."
He signed the first document with a flourish.
The game had begun.
The Same Night - Somewhere in the New World
In a dark office in the holy land of Mary Geoise, a transponder snail rang.
A gloved hand picked up the receiver.
"Yes?"
"Sir, we have a situation. One of the young Marines—Uzumaki Naruto—has invoked Protocol Sanctuary."
There was a long pause.
"For whom?"
"Nico Robin. The survivor of Ohara."
The silence that followed was so profound it felt like the world itself was holding its breath.
"I see," the voice finally said, soft and cold as winter death. "How... problematic. Tell me everything."
The voice on the other end of the transponder snail spoke quickly, efficiently. "Commander Uzumaki encountered the target in Whiskey Peak five days ago. He filed a report claiming he arrived too late. Vice Admiral Garp has processed the Protocol Sanctuary documents and forwarded them to Fleet Admiral Sengoku. Approval is expected within forty-eight hours."
"Garp." The name was spoken like a curse. "Of course it would be him. The man has been a thorn in our side for decades, but we tolerated him because of his strength and his legend. It seems his student has inherited his problematic sense of justice."
"Sir, our analysts believe this could cascade. If Protocol Sanctuary is successfully invoked for Nico Robin, it sets a precedent. Others might—"
"Others might begin to question," the voice interrupted. "Others might begin to investigate. Others might begin to wonder what other 'crimes' we've manufactured to maintain control. Yes, I'm well aware of the implications."
Papers rustled in the darkness.
"Uzumaki Naruto. Age twenty. Trained by Admiral Aokiji and Vice Admiral Garp. Possesses abilities from another world—something called 'chakra' that functions similarly to Haki but operates on different principles. Estimated threat level: Vice Admiral, possibly Admiral-level within five years. Current threat to World Government interests: minimal. Future threat: potentially catastrophic."
"He's made friends among the Marines," the voice continued, almost conversationally. "Respected by his subordinates. Trusted by Sengoku. Protected by Garp's reputation and Aokiji's authority. Attempting to eliminate him directly would cause exactly the kind of internal fracture we're trying to avoid. The Marines are already divided enough between Absolute Justice and Lazy Justice factions. We don't need a third faction rallying around a martyred idealist."
"Then what do you suggest, sir?"
"Patience," the voice said. "We let this play out. We allow Sengoku to approve Protocol Sanctuary. We watch as Uzumaki binds himself to Nico Robin's fate. And then we begin the real work."
"Sir?"
"Nico Robin has survived for twenty years because she's useful to powerful people. She reads Poneglyphs, trades information, stays valuable enough to protect but never valuable enough to keep. It's a delicate balance, and she's maintained it through intelligence and paranoia." The voice paused. "We're going to shatter that balance."
"How?"
"By making her too dangerous to ignore and too valuable to kill. We're going to leak information—carefully, subtly—about ancient weapons. We're going to make sure the right pirates know what she can do. We're going to ensure that every major power in the world suddenly has a vested interest in capturing Nico Robin alive."
The voice grew colder, sharper. "And when the pressure becomes unbearable, when enemies close in from all sides, when Uzumaki realizes he can't possibly protect her from everyone—that's when he'll break. He'll either abandon her and prove himself a hypocrite, or he'll die trying to save her and prove himself a fool. Either way, the problem solves itself."
"And if he succeeds? If he somehow manages to protect her despite everything?"
The silence stretched.
"Then we move to Operation Correction," the voice said finally. "Begin preparations immediately, but keep them covert. I want assets in position within three months. If Uzumaki becomes too much of a problem, we'll remove him and blame it on pirates. Tragic. Unfortunate. But necessary."
"Understood, sir. What about Admiral Akainu? He's already expressing concerns about Uzumaki's loyalty. We could use him as—"
"No." The word was sharp, final. "Akainu is a blunt instrument. Useful for enforcement, but too obvious for this kind of work. He'll oppose Uzumaki naturally—that's his nature. We'll allow that opposition to grow organically. It provides cover for our real operations."
"Very well, sir. I'll begin preparations immediately."
"One more thing," the voice added. "Find out everything about Uzumaki's past. Where he came from before he appeared in this world. What his weaknesses are. Everyone has pressure points—find his. And if he truly cares about Nico Robin as much as this action suggests, well... that's a weakness we can exploit."
The transponder snail went dead.
In the darkness, the figure stood and walked to a window overlooking the holy land. Below, lights twinkled like stars in the night, each one representing power, control, order. The World Government had maintained that order for eight hundred years. They had crushed rebellions, erased history, destroyed anyone who threatened their carefully constructed truth.
One idealistic Marine and one survivor of genocide would not change that.
The figure pulled out a list of names—individuals marked for observation, for manipulation, for eventual elimination if necessary. At the top of a blank page, they wrote two new names in elegant script:
Uzumaki NarutoNico Robin
"Let's see how far your idealism carries you, young Marine," the figure murmured. "Let's see if you're willing to burn the world down to save one person. And when you finally realize the cost of your principles..."
They smiled.
"I'll be waiting."
The Same Day - Rain Dinners Casino, Alabasta
The newspaper hit the mahogany desk with enough force to scatter ash from Sir Crocodile's cigar.
"You want to explain," Crocodile said quietly, "why I'm reading about my partner's Marine asylum in the morning paper instead of hearing about it from her first?"
His office was darker than usual—he'd dismissed the attendants an hour ago, killed the lights except for the lamp casting his face in sharp relief. The smoke from his cigar writhed in the air like something alive and malicious.
Nico Robin stood in the doorway, framed by the light from the hallway. Her hands were relaxed at her sides, but Crocodile saw the micro-tension in her fingers—she was ready to bloom arms the instant he moved wrong.
Smart girl.
"I was going to tell you," Robin said, her voice that perfect blend of calm and carefully calculated deference she always used. "I wanted to assess the situation first."
"Assess." Crocodile's laugh was the sound of sand grinding bone. "You wanted to figure out which master was worth serving. The Warlord who's been keeping you alive, or the Marine who just painted a target on both your backs."
He stood slowly, deliberately. At his full height, he towered over most people—an advantage he'd learned to weaponize early in his career. "Whiskey Peak. Five days ago. You met this Commander Naruto."
Not a question.
Robin stepped fully into the office now, closing the door behind her with a soft click that sounded like a cell door locking. "I did. He found me. We talked. He left."
"He let you go," Crocodile corrected, moving around the desk with predatory grace. "This golden boy, this prodigy trained by an Admiral and the Hero of the Marines, finds the woman with a seventy-nine million berry bounty—the woman every Marine has been hunting for two decades—and he just... talks to her. Then walks away."
He stopped three feet from her. Close enough to see the calculations flickering behind her eyes. Close enough to strike if necessary.
"What did you offer him?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
The temperature dropped. Crocodile's Haki leaked out, just a whisper of it, just enough to make the chandelier above them creak with the pressure. Robin's own presence flared in response—no Haki, but her Devil Fruit hummed with readiness, invisible arms waiting to manifest.
"I offered him nothing," Robin repeated, and there was steel beneath the silk in her voice now. "He offered *me* asylum. Protection. A chance to stop running. I didn't ask for it. I didn't manipulate him. He did it because apparently he has a hero complex and a death wish."
Crocodile stared at her for a long, heavy moment. Then his Haki vanished like a candle snuffed out, and he laughed—really laughed, the sound echoing off the walls.
"A death wish. Yes, I'd say staking your career on the Demon Child of Ohara qualifies." He turned away from her, moving to the bar to pour himself something stronger than wine. "You know what the fascinating part is? I believe you. I actually believe you didn't ask for this."
He poured two glasses, slid one across the bar toward her. Robin didn't move to take it.
"You've survived twenty years by being invisible," Crocodile continued, swirling his drink. "By making yourself useful enough to protect but never important enough to keep. It's why you came to me—I needed an archaeologist, you needed a Warlord's protection. Symbiotic. Clean. No emotions, no complications, just business."
He took a long drink. "But this Marine? He's made you visible. He's put your name in every newspaper from here to the New World. He's told the World Government that someone in their precious Marines actually gives a damn about what they did to Ohara."
Crocodile's smile was razor-sharp. "He's made you matter. And you *hate* it."
Robin's jaw tightened—barely, just a fraction, but Crocodile caught it.
"I survived by being nobody," Robin said quietly. "He's made me somebody. That's not protection. That's a death sentence with prettier wrapping."
"Exactly." Crocodile's grin widened. "Which means you're going to stay with me. Not because you trust me—we both know you don't—but because whatever game that Marine is playing, you can't afford to be a piece on his board. Not yet. Not until you know if he's actually stupid enough to mean what he says or smart enough to be using you for something worse."
He moved back to his desk, settling into his chair like a king on a throne. "So here's how this is going to work, Miss All Sunday. You're going to continue being my partner. You're going to help me find Pluton. You're going to read that Poneglyph in Alubarna when the time comes. And in exchange, I'm going to give you something that Marine can't—predictability."
"Predictability?" Robin's tone was skeptical.
"I'm going to kill you when this is over." Crocodile said it like he was discussing the weather. "We both know it. I know you know it. You were planning to betray me before I could do it. That's the game we've been playing since day one. Honest, straightforward, no illusions about friendship or loyalty or any of that sentimental garbage."
He leaned back, smoke curling around his face like a crown. "Compare that to your Marine savior. You have no idea what he wants. You don't know if this is genuine or if it's a trap twenty moves deep. You don't know if he's an idealist who'll get you both killed or a manipulator who makes me look like an amateur. That's uncertainty. That's dangerous."
Robin was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, she walked forward and picked up the glass he'd poured for her.
"You're right," she said. "About all of it."
"Of course I am."
"But you're also wrong about one thing." Robin took a small sip, her eyes never leaving his. "You assume I'm staying because you're predictable. That's not it. I'm staying because I need time to figure out if that Marine is real. If he actually means what he says, or if he's something worse than you."
She set the glass down with a soft clink. "And if he *is* real—if he actually believes in the idealistic nonsense he's selling—then I need to decide whether that's more dangerous than working for someone who's honest about wanting me dead."
Crocodile's expression shifted. It was subtle—just a slight narrowing of his eyes, a fractional tightening of his jaw. But Robin caught it because she'd spent two years learning to read him.
He was impressed.
"Well, well," Crocodile murmured. "Here I thought I was negotiating with the scared little survivor who'd take any port in a storm. Instead I'm talking to someone who's actually thinking ten steps ahead." He raised his glass in mock salute. "Alright, Miss All Sunday. Let's make this interesting."
"How so?"
"I won't kill you when we find Pluton." The words hung in the air like a blade. "I'll let you walk away. Alive. Free. With full knowledge of my plans and my new ancient weapon."
Robin's poker face cracked. Just for a second, but enough. "Why would you possibly do that?"
Crocodile's smile was the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen—because it was genuine.
"Because if that Marine is real, if he actually survives long enough to give you a genuine choice between his idealism and my pragmatism, then I want to see what you choose." Crocodile leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with something that might have been curiosity or cruelty or both. "Do you pick the man offering you hope and justice and all the pretty lies people tell themselves? Or do you pick the monster who's honest about what he is?"
He spread his hands, hook and flesh both. "I'm betting on me. Because hope is a poison, Miss All Sunday. Hope gets people killed. And you've survived too long to fall for it now. So prove me right. Stay. Help me get what I need. And when that Marine's idealism inevitably gets him executed—when the World Government comes for him because they always do—you'll still have me. Alive. Powerful. And in possession of a weapon that can rewrite the world."
Robin stared at him. Her mind raced through possibilities, angles, contingencies. This was a test. Everything with Crocodile was a test.
"And if I choose him?" she asked softly. "If I decide hope is worth the risk?"
"Then I'll let you go anyway." Crocodile's grin widened. "Because watching hope destroy you will be *so* much more satisfying than killing you myself. The World Government will do it for me. They'll crush your Marine. They'll make an example of him so brutal that every other idealist in the Marines learns to shut up and follow orders. And you'll get to watch it happen knowing you chose to believe in something good."
He laughed, low and cruel. "Either way, I win. Either you stay pragmatic and useful, or you choose hope and it kills you. The only question is which death you prefer—mine, quick and clean, or the Government's, slow and inevitable."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Robin picked up her glass and drained it in one smooth motion. When she set it down, her hand was perfectly steady.
"You're a bastard," she said conversationally.
"I'm a realist."
"You're making a mistake."
"Am I?" Crocodile cocked his head. "Enlighten me."
Robin's smile was sharp enough to cut diamonds. "You're betting I'll choose survival over hope. That twenty years of running has beaten the idealism out of me completely. That I'm too broken to believe in anything except my own continued existence."
"Yes. That's exactly what I'm betting."
"Then you don't know me as well as you think you do, Mr. 0." Robin turned toward the door, her voice dropping to something cold and final. "I survived twenty years by being careful. By trusting no one. By making myself small and forgettable and utterly mercenary. And it worked. I'm alive. I'm functional. I'm exactly what you think I am."
She paused at the door, glancing back over her shoulder.
"But you know what I learned in Whiskey Peak? From that impossible Marine who shouldn't exist? I learned that survival isn't the same as living. And maybe—just maybe—I'm tired of the difference."
She opened the door, light spilling in from the hallway.
"I'll stay, Mr. 0. I'll help you find Pluton. I'll read your Poneglyph. But not because I'm choosing you over him. I'm staying because I need to know if hope is real before I decide whether it's worth dying for."
Robin stepped into the light. "And when I figure that out? Your bet won't matter. Because I'll be choosing for myself, not because I'm scared of you or because I believe in him. I'll choose because I finally know what I actually want instead of just surviving to the next day."
The door closed behind her with a soft, final click.
Crocodile sat alone in the darkness, smoke wreathing his face, his expression unreadable.
Then, slowly, he started laughing.
It started low, just a chuckle, but built into something bigger—genuine amusement mixed with dark anticipation.
"Oh, Miss All Sunday," he murmured to the empty room, pouring himself another drink. "You just made this *so* much more interesting."
He raised his glass toward the closed door in mocking salute.
"To hope," he said softly. "May it be exactly as dangerous as I think it is."
He drank, and in the darkness, his smile was the smile of a predator who'd just realized his prey was far more interesting than he'd anticipated.
The game had changed.
The pieces were in motion.
And for the first time in years, Sir Crocodile wasn't entirely sure how this was going to end.
He couldn't wait to find out.
Meanwhile - Unknown Location in Paradise
Robin sat in a dingy tavern in a port town whose name she'd already forgotten, nursing a drink she wasn't actually consuming.
Two Days Later - Marineford, Sengoku's Office
Fleet Admiral Sengoku stared at the Protocol Sanctuary documents on his desk like they were a live bomb.
Which, politically speaking, they were.
"You understand what approving this means," he said to the two men standing before him—Garp, who looked simultaneously proud and terrified, and Aokiji, who maintained his usual expression of lazy disinterest despite the tension in his shoulders.
"It means doing the right thing," Garp said bluntly. "Something we should have done twenty years ago."
"It means war," Sengoku corrected. "Not with swords and ships—with politics and influence. The World Government will push back. Hard. They'll see this as a direct challenge to their authority."
"Then they'll be correct," Aokiji drawled, his hands in his pockets. "That's exactly what it is. A challenge. The question is whether we're willing to back it up."
Sengoku looked at them both—two of the most powerful Marines alive, both willing to stake their careers on the actions of one twenty-year-old commander.
"Naruto is your student," he said to Aokiji. "You trained him. You taught him about justice. Is he ready for this?"
"No," Aokiji admitted easily. "Nobody's ready for this. But he's willing, and sometimes that's more important."
"Garp? Your assessment?"
"The boy's got the same stupid conviction I had when I was young," Garp said, grinning despite the seriousness of the situation. "The same conviction that made me refuse promotions, punch Celestial Dragons, and adopt every stray kid I found who needed help. He's going to be a magnificent pain in everyone's ass."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's not meant to be," Garp said. "But here's the truth, Sengoku—we failed Ohara. We knew what was happening, we knew it was wrong, and we did nothing because it was politically convenient. We let an eight-year-old girl be hunted for two decades because we were too cowardly to stand up to the Government."
He leaned forward, his usual jovial expression replaced with something hard and serious. "Naruto's giving us a chance to make that right. A chance to prove that the Marines actually stand for justice instead of just following orders. If we don't approve this, if we throw him to the wolves for trying to do the right thing—then what the hell are we even doing here?"
Sengoku was quiet for a long moment. Then he picked up his pen.
"If I approve this, there will be consequences. For Naruto. For you both. For me. The Government will see this as insubordination at best, rebellion at worst."
"Let them," Aokiji said simply.
"They might try to remove me as Fleet Admiral."
"Then we'll deal with that when it comes," Garp said. "But right now, in this moment, you have a choice. Approve this and stand for something real. Or reject it and prove that everything we've told ourselves about justice is just propaganda."
Sengoku looked at the documents again. At the formal language requesting asylum for Nico Robin. At Naruto's signature at the bottom, bold and confident and utterly unafraid of the consequences.
He thought about Rosinante. His son, who'd died trying to save a child the Government had condemned. Who'd believed in justice so deeply it had killed him.
He thought about Ohara, about classified reports he'd read that made him sick, about orders he'd followed that haunted him decades later.
He thought about what kind of organization the Marines were supposed to be, versus what they'd become.
"Garp," he said finally. "If this goes wrong—"
"It won't."
"But if it does—"
"Then we'll handle it together," Garp interrupted. "That's what we do. That's what we've always done."
Sengoku nodded slowly. Then, with deliberate precision, he signed his name at the bottom of the Protocol Sanctuary documents.
"May the seas have mercy on us all," he murmured. "Because the Government certainly won't."
Meanwhile - Unknown Location in Paradise
Robin sat in a dingy tavern in a port town whose name she'd already forgotten, nursing a drink she wasn't actually consuming. Around her, pirates and criminals conducted business in low voices, the kind of establishment where asking questions was dangerous and being memorable was fatal.
She'd perfected the art of being unmemorable years ago.
The newspaper lay on the table in front of her, unopened. She'd bought it hours ago but couldn't bring herself to look. Because if the broker's information was accurate, if that insane Marine had actually done what he claimed—
Her hand moved. The newspaper crinkled as she unfolded it.
The headline hit her like a physical blow:
MARINE COMMAND INVOKES HISTORIC PROTOCOL: FLEET ADMIRAL APPROVES ASYLUM FOR OHARA SURVIVOR
Robin's vision tunneled. The words swam before her eyes.
"In an unprecedented move, Fleet Admiral Sengoku has approved Protocol Sanctuary for Nico Robin, the sole survivor of the Ohara incident. Commander Uzumaki Naruto has taken full responsibility for her protection, citing new evidence that suggests the original bounty was based on falsified intelligence..."
The newspaper crumpled in her hands.
He'd done it. That fool had actually done it.
Robin's mind raced through implications. This wasn't just protection—this was a public declaration. The Marines were essentially admitting they'd been wrong about Ohara, wrong about her, wrong about everything for twenty years. The World Government would never forgive this. They'd come for Naruto. They'd come for everyone who supported him. They'd—
Her breath caught.
They'd come for her.
But this time, she wouldn't be facing them alone.
Robin stood abruptly, throwing money on the table and moving toward the exit. Her mind was already calculating routes, timing, contingencies. She needed to disappear more thoroughly than ever before. She needed to—
No.
She stopped at the door, hand on the frame, trembling with something that might have been fear or fury or the beginning of something she'd thought died at Ohara.
For twenty years, she'd run. For twenty years, she'd trusted no one, believed in nothing, survived by making herself as small and forgettable as possible. And it had worked. She was alive. She was free, in the way that prey running from predators could ever be called free.
But that Marine—that impossible, idealistic fool—had just painted a target on his own back for her. Had chained his fate to hers. Had stood before the entire world and said this person matters.
Robin's hands clenched into fists.
She had two choices. Run deeper, hide better, let that sacrifice be for nothing while she continued her endless survival. Or—
Or she could do something she hadn't done in twenty years.
She could stop running.
"Damn you," she whispered to the absent Marine who'd turned her life upside down. "Damn you for making me hope."
She turned and walked back into the tavern, pulling out a transponder snail she'd acquired months ago for emergencies. Her fingers shook as she dialed a number she'd sworn she'd never use—the general Marine tip line, the one civilians called to report pirate activity.
"Marine Headquarters, how may I direct your call?"
Robin's voice was steady despite the hammering of her heart. "I need to speak with Commander Uzumaki Naruto. Tell him Nico Robin is calling."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Please hold."
The line went silent except for the sound of her own breathing.
She was doing this. After everything, after all her precautions and survival instincts screaming at her to hang up and run—she was actually doing this.
The line clicked.
"Robin." Naruto's voice was steady, warm, utterly unsurprised. "I was wondering when you'd call."
"You're insane," she said flatly. "You know that, right? Completely, utterly insane."
"I've been told." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Does this mean you're accepting?"
"It means I'm considering not spending the rest of my life running from the consequences of your idiocy," Robin said. "But I have conditions."
"I expected nothing less. Name them."
Robin took a breath. "I come in on my terms. I choose when and where we meet. No ambushes, no tricks, no backup waiting to arrest me the moment I show my face."
"Agreed."
"And I want answers. Real answers. About what happened at Ohara, about why you're doing this, about what you actually expect from me."
"You'll have them."
"And if at any point I decide this was a mistake—if I think you've lied to me or if I think I'm in danger—I walk away. No pursuit. No retaliation."
There was a pause. Then: "I can't promise no pursuit if you commit actual crimes. But if you just want to leave because you don't trust me? Then yes. You walk away freely. That's always been the deal."
Robin closed her eyes. This was insanity. This was suicide. This was—
"I won't chase you," Naruto said. "I'll be here."
"Where?"
"There's an island three days south of your current position. I'll be there in four days, alone. If you decide to come, I'll be there waiting."
"How do you know where I am?"
"I don't. But I know you'll find the island if you want to."
Clever bastard.
"Four days," Robin said. "If you bring anyone else, if this is a trap—"
"It's not," Naruto interrupted gently. "I promise you, Robin. It's not a trap. It's just a chance. That's all I'm offering. A chance."
The line went dead.
Robin stood there for a long moment, transponder snail still in her hand, mind racing through every possible angle, every potential betrayal, every way this could go catastrophically wrong.
Then she started planning her route south.
Four days.
She had four days to decide if hope was worth dying for.
End.
I hope you all liked this chapter!
It's going to be a purely Naruto x Robin story, though the romance will be very gradual and slowburn, and it will take a long while before Robin even trusts Naruto.
It will be an interesting journey and I do hope you all stay with me till the end for this story!
More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link
https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939
Hope to see you all on the next update.
Bye.