I Sell Gacha Jars in One Piece

This was one of Aokiji's signature techniques. The moment that ice bird left his lips, it dragged the temperature of the surrounding air down with it, frost crystallizing in the open space between them as the bird surged forward.

Amon's brow tightened for just a moment. His arm snapped back, pushing Robin and Lily out of the battle space in a single motion, and then his hand came forward again, deep purple Haki coiling up his arm like smoke given form. He leaned into the swing and drove his fist directly into the ice bird's chest.

It shattered completely. Shards of ice scattered across the grass in every direction.

He didn't stop moving. In the same breath he was already at Aokiji's side, fist driving toward him in a follow-up strike.

"Ice Time."

Aokiji's speed had been underestimated by few people in his lifetime, and he had not survived this long by being slow to react. Amon's burst of movement had surprised him, he hadn't expected a single punch to break his bird cleanly, but his fruit ability was already responding before his conscious mind had fully processed it. His open hand met Amon's forward momentum, and the devil fruit power did the rest.

Ice spread. Amon froze solid in an instant, encased in a sculpture of pale blue.

The satisfaction lasted about half a second.

The ice cracked down the center with a sound like a gunshot, and Amon stepped out of it.

"Parlor trick."

His arm drew back, and from the motion a sword of compressed blade energy materialized in his grip, crackling faintly along its edge with contained force.

"Ice Saber."

Aokiji exhaled and met it. A blade of solid ice formed between his fingers in a single breath, and the two weapons came together with a sound like a bell struck too hard.

Then they were moving.

The exchange that followed was fast enough that Robin, watching from behind, could not always track individual exchanges, only the afterimages and the clean metallic ring of each collision. What had started as a measured contest of reach and positioning quickly compressed into something closer and more furious, both figures rotating around each other in tightening circles until their outlines blurred entirely, visible only as motion and the arc of their respective blades cutting the air.

Then came a single sharp crack louder than the rest.

A white shape dropped from the clash and landed hard in the grass below.

Aokiji.

He remained where he fell for a moment, then pushed himself up and went still.

"That's some swordsmanship." He looked at Amon with something that was not quite admiration but was adjacent to it. "I lose."

He brushed the front of his vest. "Remarkable body technique and blade work combined. No wonder Kizaru lost to you."

He had known who Amon was before he stepped out from behind Saul's grave. The report of Kizaru's defeat had reached him in the way things always did, quietly and through channels that didn't make it into official records. What he had wanted to know was something that couldn't be answered by a report.

"You're not bad yourself," Amon said.

He meant it. Neither of them had fought at full capacity, and both of them knew it. Aokiji's real strength lay in his body technique and his Devil Fruit used in concert, and he had chosen to meet Amon with a blade instead, which was not where he was at his sharpest. Amon, for his part, had kept enough of himself in reserve that an all-out effort would likely have left a significant portion of Ohara sunk beneath the ocean, which seemed like an inappropriate ending for Robin's homecoming visit.

But the exchange had told Aokiji what he needed to know. Even if he had gone all out, the outcome would have been the same.

He had come here with a purpose, and it had nothing to do with fighting.

"Amon, are you alright?"

Robin reached him in a few quick steps, her voice doing a poor job of concealing the tension that had been coiled in her chest throughout the entire exchange.

"Fine," he said simply.

She exhaled, then turned toward Aokiji..

"I'm fine as well," Aokiji said, sparing her the question. "Congratulations, Nico Robin. You've finally found somewhere to belong. You won't have to live in the dark anymore."

He looked at her steadily.

"Whatever existed between us, consider it settled."

He had kept watch over her across the years, quietly and from a distance, partly because of Saul's dying wish and partly because of something that had never fully left him since the day he watched Ohara burn. The Government's justice had felt clean and necessary to him once. It had stopped feeling that way somewhere around the moment he stood on the shore of this island and watched a child run into the open sea alone.

Robin had found her footing now. She had people beside her. That was enough. He could let go of the vigil.

"Thank you," Robin said. Her voice was steady, and she meant every word of it. She looked at Amon, then at Lily, and when she looked back at Aokiji her eyes were certain. "I'll be happy from here on. I promise."

Aokiji nodded once. He didn't add anything to that. He turned and walked, and when he was nearly out of sight among the overgrown paths of the island, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder one final time.

"Live strong, Nico Robin… Ohara is not dead."

Then he whistled once, sharp and low. A penguin launched itself from the water at the shore, waddled up to him at remarkable speed, and carried him away.

Robin stood watching until there was nothing left to watch. Then she turned toward the grave marker one last time, and bowed deeply and held the bow for a long moment.

...

"Let's head back," Amon said, gently. There was nothing left that staying would give her that leaving wouldn't let her carry.

Robin straightened. "Yes."

She followed him back to the ship, and Lily fell into step beside her without being asked, close enough that their arms nearly touched.

Something had shifted in Robin by the time they were back on deck. The particular weight that had been part of her posture since the moment she came aboard, a heaviness so constant she had probably stopped noticing it years ago, was lighter. The island had given her something she hadn't known she was coming to collect.

Amon watched her for a moment from the helm, then turned his face toward the horizon.

"Next stop, Drum Island."