—Broadcast—
After the Sky Screen's memory concluded depicting the invasion of Totto Land, prisoner Jinbe continued his philosophical conversation with Hoshigaki Kisame for a while longer. The two fish-men discussed Fish-Man Island's uncertain future, debating the merits of generational sacrifice versus pragmatic survival. The visiting hours passed surprisingly quickly when absorbed in such weighty topics.
Chief Warden Domino's professional voice interrupted their discussion from outside the cell door, her tone carrying apologetic firmness. "Admiral Kisame, I must remind you that visiting hours are concluding. Still Water Prison implements complete lockdown procedures when the sun sets. If you remain past that threshold, even you will be unable to leave until the next day's elevator cycle."
The security protocols remained absolute—not even a Marine Admiral could override Still Water Prison's fundamental containment procedures once nightfall triggered the automated sealing systems.
"Jinbe, the official order for your temporary release will be issued very soon," Hoshigaki Kisame stated, his large hand resting on the emaciated fish-man's shoulder with surprising gentleness. The Admiral's touch conveyed unspoken meaning beyond his words: Don't cause trouble at this critical juncture. Don't give them reasons to revoke the release. Queen Otohime paid a tremendous price for this opportunity, and even my authority has limits.
"I will personally come to collect you and escort you back to Fish-Man Island alongside Mjosgard Saint," Kisame continued aloud. "The journey will take approximately two weeks. Try to endure until then."
The imprisonment spanning over one year had genuinely tortured the Sea Knight. Jinbe's once-powerful frame had withered dramatically—he'd lost weight equivalent to several adult humans, his skin hanging loose over prominent bones. The physical deterioration paled beside the mental exhaustion etched into every line of his weathered face. Dead Water's continuous draining effect, combined with isolation and the psychological burden of Marineford's memories, had extracted a catastrophic toll.
Still Water Prison proved devastatingly effective at breaking prisoners' spirits. The facility's torture methods—passive, relentless, inescapable—matched or exceeded even Impel Down's infamous Level 6 in pure psychological damage. Physical torture could be endured through willpower. But the Dead Water's ceaseless draining, the absolute darkness, the knowledge that escape represented literal impossibility? That ground down even the strongest souls into hollow shells.
"Next time you come to take me away, Admiral Kisame," Jinbe managed a weak smile, "remember to bring more premium sake. I'll want something to drink during the journey back home."
Despite the grimness of their circumstances, the parting maintained a certain pleasant atmosphere—two fish-men acknowledging shared heritage and philosophy even across the prisoner-jailer divide. They waved farewell to each other with genuine respect, the gesture carrying more weight than any formal salute.
Two junior jailers entered moments later, their expressions carefully neutral as they escorted prisoner Jinbe back to his designated cell deeper within the second floor's labyrinthine corridors. The heavy door sealed behind him with the finality of a tomb closing, Dead Water immediately resuming its passive assault on his depleted reserves.
As Marine Admiral, Hoshigaki Kisame commanded transcendent status within the military hierarchy. Chief Warden Domino personally accompanied the fish-man to the main elevator shaft, demonstrating Still Water Prison's institutional respect for his rank and position. Her professional efficiency never wavered as she guided him through multiple security checkpoints, each sealed door responding to her biometric authorization.
Still Water Prison's architectural structure descended through multiple levels integrated directly into Rome fortress-city's underwater foundations. Each floor housed progressively more dangerous prisoners, categorized by threat level and historical significance. Jinbe's imprisonment on the second floor placed him among pirates who'd genuinely made names for themselves across all seas—their individual reputations recognized by anyone with maritime knowledge. Former Warlords, legendary captains, commanders of notorious crews—all reduced to emaciated shadows in Dead Water's embrace.
As for the third level and beyond? Those depths remained shrouded in deliberate mystery. Officially, only the Prison Director possessed authorization to enter the deepest containment zones. However, as with all institutional rules, exceptions existed for those with sufficient power or connections. The Marine—as the seas' largest organized violence apparatus—operated according to underground protocols that transcended written regulations.
The elevator doors sealed shut, carrying Admiral Kisame toward the surface and freedom. Domino watched the mechanism ascend with professional detachment, then turned to resume her endless administrative duties.
Still Water Prison
"Jinbe, so your fellow tribesman finally came to visit you after all this time." An unexpected voice rumbled through the corridor, carrying both amusement and something darker beneath. "What's that distinctive smell? Why do I detect premium sake on your breath?"
The speaker emerged from shadow into the corridor's dim bioluminescent lighting—an elderly man with gray hair, powerful frame still radiating vitality despite advanced age. He chewed his favorite senbei crackers habitually, the crunching sound punctuating his words. A prominent scar marked his left eye socket, testament to decades of brutal combat. Despite being nearly three meters tall with chest muscles developed to abnormal proportions, the old man moved with surprising grace. His current physical condition remained formidable enough to kill giants with single punches—age had diminished his strength only marginally.
Character Notes: Former Marine Hero - Monkey D. Garp
Although Garp wore Still Water Prison's standard prisoner uniform, he enjoyed privileges wildly inconsistent with typical incarceration. As long as the former Marine Hero refrained from committing violent crimes against fellow prisoners or attempting escape, the old man could wander the prison's corridors freely without supervision from guards. He possessed unrestricted movement throughout accessible zones—a privilege granted personally by Fleet Admiral Artoria Pendragon.
Even if Garp descended into Still Water Prison's deeper levels, neither the Prison Director nor subordinate guards would intervene or question his presence. That unprecedented access represented acknowledgment of his legendary status and the complex political calculations surrounding his imprisonment.
"Mister Garp, you possess an exceptionally sharp nose despite your age," Jinbe responded with weary resignation, recognizing the transparent fishing for alcohol. "These bottles represent tribute sake sent by Hoshigaki Kisame—premium stock specially allocated for Marine Admirals. You've probably never tasted anything quite this refined."
The Sea Knight calculated quickly. He'd be released soon anyway, and these material possessions would remain behind regardless. Outside Fish-Man Island, he could drink as much sake as desired without restriction. Why not share the Admiral's gift with someone who'd appreciate it? Besides, even without considering the fact that Garp had saved his grandson Luffy during certain chaotic events, Jinbe felt genuine fondness for the old Marine.
Garp demonstrated zero hesitation or politeness toward his fish-man companion. Without requesting permission, the elderly prisoner simply appropriated most of the premium bottles from Jinbe's arms, leaving only a single container for the former Warlord to keep. The old man's shamelessness remained utterly characteristic—some personality traits transcended circumstances.
Watching Mister Garp's unabashed theft, Jinbe could only shake his head helplessly, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite exhaustion. Sure enough, the old man hasn't changed. His true temperament persists regardless of imprisonment or status.
Perhaps Garp's permanent residence in Still Water Prison represented blessing in disguise after the catastrophic Battle of Marineford. For everyone involved—the surviving Marines, the Straw Hat Pirates, even Garp himself—this outcome generated fewer complications than any alternative. The old man's conflicted loyalties had nearly torn him apart that day. Imprisonment at least removed him from making impossible choices between duty and family.
"I'm just going to take some premium sake to visit them," Garp explained with uncharacteristic seriousness, his usual jovial mask slipping briefly. "Otherwise those two wouldn't want to see me at all—their tempers have grown considerably worse since imprisonment. Jinbe, you've genuinely helped me tremendously with this gift."
The old man departed cheerfully after that cryptic statement, whistling a naval marching tune as he headed deeper into the prison. Sea Knight Jinbe watched Garp's broad back recede into shadow, and sudden melancholy seized him without warning. An inexplicable premonition crystallized in his gut with uncomfortable certainty:
This meeting with Mister Garp might represent the last time we see each other in this lifetime.
The thought carried weight beyond rational explanation—some instinct honed through decades of maritime survival screaming warnings about inevitable futures. Jinbe didn't understand the source of that conviction, but he trusted his intuition too deeply to dismiss the sensation.
After releasing a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all his regrets, Jinbe returned to his designated cell. The moment he settled onto the iron bed—barely more comfortable than sleeping on stone—he couldn't wait any longer. His teeth tore through the bottle's seal, and he poured premium sake directly into his parched mouth. The alcohol burned pleasantly down his throat, spreading warmth through his depleted body.
Good sake truly represented one of life's simple blessings. In this miserable prison, such small pleasures acquired disproportionate significance.
As for the regrettable memories of Marineford's apocalyptic battle—the blood, the screams, the deaths of legends, the collapse of everything he'd believed about justice and order—Jinbe deliberately didn't want recalling those scenes with any clarity whatsoever. He simply wanted numbing himself with alcohol, making his mind unclear and fuzzy, rendering Marineford's memories blurred and distant enough to function without breaking down completely.
Some things couldn't be forgotten. But they could be drowned, at least temporarily, beneath enough premium sake.
Former Marine Hero Garp moved freely through Still Water Prison's corridors, whistling cheerfully as he headed toward the restricted third floor. Prison guards passing by during this journey demonstrated complete familiarity with the scene—they simply gave the old man wide berth, avoiding potential complications or awkward conversations. Nobody wanted getting caught in Garp's unpredictable mood swings or becoming collateral damage if his temper flared.
The massive gate sealing the third-level prison loomed before him, constructed from reinforced steel integrated with Sea-Prism Stone veins. Garp stood at the threshold, submitting himself to inspection by the facility's most unsettling security measure—the entity prisoners had nicknamed the "Prison Beast."
The inspector manifested as a fleshless skeleton wreathed in eerie green flames that flickered across exposed bone without consuming anything. The specter clutched an ancient lantern in skeletal fingers, the device emanating the same phosphorescent green glow that outlined its entire form. The flames possessed an otherworldly quality—not quite fire, not quite light, something that existed on the boundary between life and death.
This lantern could distinguish truth from deception at the soul level itself, piercing through any disguise or transformation to reveal a being's fundamental spiritual signature. The security measure specifically prevented Devil Fruit users with shapeshifting abilities from infiltrating Still Water Prison's deeper levels through deception. Impel Down's catastrophic jailbreak remained fresh in institutional memory—such disaster could never be permitted to occur again.
"Garp," the skeleton rasped, its voice carrying hollow resonance like wind through empty crypts. "Your soul radiates such purity and clarity. Every time my lantern illuminates you, I cannot help but feel tempted to absorb that magnificent essence into its eternal flames."
The statement carried disturbing ambiguity—was that a compliment, threat, or simple observation? The skeletal "Prison Beast" made distinguishing between the three genuinely impossible.
The green skeleton confronting Garp represented not an independent entity but rather one of many clones manifested by Thresh, the Soul Chain Warden—Still Water Prison's supreme authority and the facility's official director appointed by both the World Government and New Marine administration. His supernatural abilities enabled simultaneous presence throughout the entire prison complex, each manifestation maintaining autonomous function while sharing collective consciousness.
Garp possessed natural, visceral aversion toward undead creatures and soul manipulation. The Prison Beast's casual discussion of playing with and imprisoning souls of the dead touched the former Marine Hero's deepest moral boundaries. Throughout his legendary career, Garp had fought countless enemies—pirates, revolutionaries, monsters—but he'd always maintained certain ethical lines that couldn't be crossed. Desecrating the dead, imprisoning souls beyond physical death, denying final rest to the fallen? Those practices violated everything Garp considered sacred about human dignity.
However, having lost his Marine status and authority following Marineford, Garp possessed zero right appealing to superiors or challenging institutional decisions. On paper, he existed as merely another prisoner within Still Water Prison's population—stripped of rights, obligated only to serve his indefinite sentence. Even if he harbored profound objections regarding Thresh's appointment as Prison Director, Garp could only express dissatisfaction through facial expressions and body language rather than formal protest.
His clenched jaw and disgusted scowl conveyed everything words couldn't.
The "Prison Beast" methodically verified Garp's soul signature against authorized records, the green lantern's light intensifying as it scanned the old man's spiritual essence. After several tense moments, the skeletal clone nodded with satisfaction.
"Identity confirmed. Soul parameters match authorized profile. You may proceed, Monkey D. Garp."
The massive steel gate groaned open, revealing a descending staircase that plunged into deeper darkness. Garp's earlier cheerful whistling ceased entirely as he passed the threshold. His expression transformed from casual amusement to something far more complex—regret, sorrow, shame, and stubborn determination mixing into an emotional amalgam too complicated for simple description.
He descended toward the deep prison with a bitter smile twisting his scarred face, preparing to meet two old friends whose relationships with him had become impossibly tangled by history's cruelest ironies. Everyone imprisoned in Still Water Prison's deepest levels had once been major figures who'd stirred the seas and shaped entire eras. Those lacking sufficient historical significance or personal power simply weren't worthy of such maximum-security containment.
The third floor's shadows swallowed Garp completely as the gate sealed behind him with terrible finality. In the darkness below, legends who'd been erased from history waited—some resigned to their fate, others burning with suppressed rage, all fundamentally powerless against the soul chains binding them beyond mere physical restraint.
Real World
Marineford
"So Still Water Prison's actual director is some supernatural entity called Thresh?" Vice Admiral Tsuru's weathered face displayed profound concern as she processed the Sky Screen's revelation. "Not Domino handling administrative duties, but something that imprisons souls in lanterns and manifests skeletal clones throughout the facility?"
The implications unsettled even the most hardened Marine officers present. They'd assumed Still Water Prison operated through conventional security measures—just more advanced versions of Impel Down's systems. But a director who could literally trap souls? That transcended normal institutional authority into something approaching divine judgment.
"What happened at Marineford that resulted in Hero Garp's imprisonment?" another Rear Admiral Mozambia voiced the question haunting everyone's thoughts. "And who are the two people he's on the third floor? Former Fleet Admiral Sengoku seems likely, but who else?"
The Sky Screen had deliberately withheld those crucial details, building tension through selective revelation. The broadcast showed consequences without explaining causes—a frustrating narrative technique that kept audiences desperately engaged.
—Real World—
Current Impel Down - Director's Office
Magellan's face had gone pale beneath his perpetual mask of chronic poisoning symptoms. The Doku Doku no Mi user stared at the Sky Screen with growing horror as he processed the implications.
"I'm reassigned to Still Water Prison in the future?" His voice carried disbelief mixed with resignation. "Serving under some undead creature as deputy director handling 'tedious paperwork'? After Impel Down's catastrophic jailbreak, they strip away my authority and reduce me to glorified administrator?"
Hannibal stood beside him, equally shocked. The ambitious Vice Warden had always dreamed of becoming Impel Down's director—but not through the prison's complete obsolescence and replacement by superior facility. This represented the worst possible outcome: his career ambitions rendered meaningless by institutional reorganization.
"At least you're still employed," Hannibal muttered bitterly. "They could have simply executed everyone responsible for Impel Down's security failure."
Magellan had no response. The Sky Screen's revelations suggested futures where even legendary institutions could be discarded and replaced. Nothing remained permanent when the world's fundamental power structures underwent revolutionary transformation.