"Hahaha—don't be ridiculous! We're kin!"
"Besides, I'm no fan of the World Government either."
Tom smiled nervously at the fellow fishman standing before him, though for some reason… the cheerful grin on that shark-like face felt like it was hiding something sharp. Very sharp.
Whether for the sake of their shared blood, or just basic survival instinct—
Reporting this guy? Absolutely not.
"Is that so?"
"Still, I think you're pretty dangerous."
Kisame's smile didn't fade, but his eyes sharpened.
"I want to know what exactly this 'Ancient Weapon: Pluton' blueprint is that they were after."
"You wouldn't happen to know… would you?"
If any of the old Akatsuki had been there to witness Kisame's sly little smirk, they would've straight up dropped their jaws.
You'd never believe it.
This guy?
The 'Nice Guy' of the Shinobi World?
Mister "Yes, sir"?
Lying through his gills?!
Unbelievable. Absolutely illegal.
But credit where credit's due—Kisame had clearly learned how to play the game. And he played it well.
Tom's pupils shook like an underwater earthquake.
He stared at his fellow fishman across from him, hesitant. Hesitant… but not for long.
Eventually, he opened his mouth.
"Pluton is actually… a battleship."
"…The kind that can destroy an entire island in one shot?"
Kisame fell silent.
If what Tom said was true, then this weapon's destructive power might be on par with—or even beyond—a Tailed Beast Bomb.
And he'd fought tailed beasts before.
But this thing? This ship? He wouldn't dare try it head-on.
After a long pause, Kisame finally asked,
"Can you build it?"
"…What do you intend to do with it?"
Tom's eyes widened like dinner plates, locking onto the much shorter fishman in front of him.
He was no fool—he could already guess what Kisame was thinking.
Kisame didn't even bother to deny it. He gave a calm nod.
"Exactly what you're thinking."
"No—no way! The World Government would never allow it!"
"Whether they allow it or not is their business."
"Whether you build it… is yours."
"That kind of weapon shouldn't even exist!"
"Whether it exists or not isn't your decision to make."
"So? What do you say? Will you build one—for me?"
"…For you?!"
Tom's fins were practically standing on end.
"You… are you trying to…?"
"No. No! This could bring catastrophe to the whole world—!"
"Even the fishman race might be dragged into it!"
"I can't help you build something so deadly!"
His breath came fast and sharp, like he'd just surfaced from a deep dive. The other fishman across from him… he was dangerous.
Reckless.
Bold.
And clearly serious.
Kisame didn't get angry.
But his tone turned colder—like the pressure drop before a deep-sea storm.
"Heh… My dear kin," he said quietly.
"I don't think you've realized the position you're in just yet."
"I'm not really asking."
"From this moment on—you're working with me."
"Oh, and don't worry… I've got funding."
"Money should be spent where it counts."
"Only that idiot Kakuzu would lock it in a safe to rot!"
Kisame crossed his arms with a smirk, watching Tom fall silent.
Then, as if twisting the knife in just the right spot, he added:
"Besides… you've always wanted to build it, haven't you?"
"You're a shipwright, after all. With those beautiful blueprints in your hands—don't tell me it doesn't kill you a little inside that you've never brought them to life?"
If Orochimaru had been around to hear that?
He'd have given Kisame a standing ovation.
Mind games? Persuasion? Gaslighting???
Chef's kiss.
Tom opened his mouth to object.
But nothing came out.
Because—he couldn't deny it.
Having the blueprints for Pluton all these years and never building it?
Yeah. That regret ran deep.
But if he did build it… wouldn't that make him a criminal to the whole world?
"A battleship that powerful… it all depends on who's commanding it," Kisame said, seizing the moment.
"I won't pretend to be some kind of hero. But I'm not out to destroy the world either."
"No matter what kind of ship you build—it isn't good or evil by itself. What matters is the hands it falls into."
"And whatever damage it causes, even if it does end the world…"
"Its creator—should still love it."
"The person who built it… can't deny it, can't curse it…"
"A real man—stands by the ship he built!"
Tom's eyes widened.
That line—he'd heard it before.
His teacher had said it, right before passing away.
He'd held onto those words all these years like a compass in a storm.
Suddenly, something inside him clicked.
He looked up at Kisame, resolve burning in his eyes.
"I'll do it."
"A real man—builds the ship he wants to build, with his head held high!"
"HAHAHA! That's the spirit!" Kisame burst out laughing.
Whether Pluton really was as terrifying as the legends claimed, he didn't care.
Because now—he had a new dream:
To sail around the world aboard a ship he helped create.
But just as he was starting to feel pumped…
Tom dropped a bomb on him.
"Buuuut… your treasure stash?"
"Probably only enough to get us started."
"From what I've calculated… building the Pluton from scratch?"
"We're talking… around *50 billion berries. Give or take."*
"F-Fifty… WHAT?!"
"Fifty. Billion."
Kisame physically flinched.
Did… did he need to resurrect Kakuzu just to make him his official treasurer?
Because there was no way he'd ever scrape together that kind of money.
Although…
Wait.
Didn't he already spend Kakuzu's 2 billion?
If he summoned him now, wouldn't he just get his face punched in?
Sigh.
What a mess.
Resigned, Kisame clenched his teeth and growled:
"Fine. I'll find the money."
"You just focus on building it."
---
Meanwhile…
Holy Land Mariejois — World Government Intelligence HQ.
"What did you just say?"
"Repeat that. Right. Now."
In the shadowy heart of Mariejois, Spandine, now an aging man but still holding control over most of the CP agencies, shot to his feet.
"What did you just say!?"
Across the room, the communications officer gulped and repeated:
"Spandam and all CP5 agents accompanying him… have gone missing."
Spandine's face darkened as he stared daggers at his subordinate.
"Where were they last seen?"
The officer straightened nervously.
"Before leaving, your son tried to meet with you. You weren't in your office, but I heard him mention something about… Water 7."
"Water 7?!"
Spandine scowled.
"What in the hell would that idiot be doing there?"
He frowned in thought, but no answer came. Finally, he barked:
"Send someone to Water 7. Now."
"Yes, sir!"
The officer saluted and swiftly exited.
Once the room was empty, Spandine stood still for a long, silent moment, his expression grim.
A full CP unit vanishing like this…
That wasn't just some inconvenient hiccup.
That was the kind of mess that made entire agencies burn.
If they'd just gotten lost or trapped, that was one thing. But if someone had killed them?
Then someone had just declared war on the World Government.
That kind of threat was way above his pay grade.
He couldn't sit on this—he had to notify the Gorosei. Before it spiraled.
With a shaking hand, Spandine reached across his desk and grabbed the transponder snail that linked to the Five Elders directly.
"Gacha."
"This is the Five Elders."
A voice colder than ice echoed from the snail.
"R-reporting in! This is Spandine. I have urgent intelligence to relay!"
"Speak."
"Spandam, along with over a dozen CP5 agents, has gone completely off the grid. All communication with them has been cut off—snails aren't responding at all…"
He laid out the situation as calmly as he could. But the moment he finished—
"Hmm?"
A low, authoritative voice echoed from the other end.
"Spandam is missing?"
"Wasn't he sent to retrieve the blueprints for Pluton?"
"The… Pluton blueprints?"
Spandine froze.
Then his eyes went wide.
"You mean… the ancient weapon Pluton actually exists?!"
"Unclear."
"Your son mentioned a fish-man in Water 7. Goes by the name Tom. Claims he's hiding the blueprints."
"If CP agents are missing, then Water 7 is our most likely lead. Send a team to investigate."
The voice didn't even pretend to care about Spandam's fate.
And that… that hurt a little.
But then the name "Pluton" echoed again in his mind—and suddenly Spandine's ambition was burning bright.
If he found those blueprints… if he brought back Pluton… he could become the Supreme Commander of CP.
Back straight, eyes gleaming, he barked into the snail:
"Understood, Elder! Leave it to me. I, Spandine, will personally see to this!"
"Click."
The snail went dead without a word of farewell.
Spandine didn't mind.
He was already grabbing another transponder snail, dialing swiftly.
"Assemble an elite unit—we're going to Water 7."
(End of Chapter)