Vegapunk—the man who had successfully decoded the Lineage Factor—was, without question, the foremost authority on Devil Fruits on the seas.
And Borsalino, as head of the Marines' Special Science Group, was Vegapunk's closest collaborator. Even from a few minutes of conversation, Darren could tell they had a real rapport.
Which meant Borsalino had access to the most direct, most complete body of Vegapunk's research—firsthand data no one else could touch.
Pair that with Borsalino's own monstrous talent, and Darren had no doubt his understanding of Devil Fruit development rivaled Darren's… perhaps even surpassed it.
If that was true, just how strong had Borsalino become?
Darren had never seen him fight in earnest.
That bastard always wore the same lazy composure, no matter who stood in front of him. With the Glint-Glint Fruit's speed and mobility, he could slip through any battlefield like a beam of light. It was impossible to measure the real ceiling of his combat strength.
And honestly?
Stripped of all strategy, Darren's curiosity alone was enough to set a hunter's blood singing.
The problem was, Darren also knew Borsalino.
If Darren tried to force a fight, Borsalino would never give him what he wanted. He'd either turn it into a tedious game of chase—or worse, he'd simply sigh and surrender on the spot.
That would be pathetic.
Pointless.
It would drain the battle of meaning before it even began.
"Is that so?" Darren said lightly. "You've still got plenty of energy, Borsalino."
Borsalino only shrugged. His eyes flickered, but he didn't bite.
Darren let it go and turned back to Vegapunk, his tone sharpening.
"Dr. Vegapunk, the truth is—I came here with another purpose."
Vegapunk took a few slow sips of coffee, still recovering from the aftershock of Conqueror's Haki. Once his breathing steadied, he gave a quiet chuckle.
"You want to take me away, don't you, Darren-san?"
Darren paused, then narrowed his eyes.
"Exactly. A genius like you shouldn't be kept on a leash by the World Government—especially when your safety is constantly at risk."
As he spoke, his gaze slid to Borsalino without thinking.
"I'm confident I can get you off Egghead safely. And I can protect you."
Borsalino raised both hands at once and took an exaggerated step back, as if Darren's words had physically pushed him.
"That look is terrifying, Darren," he drawled. "If you're determined to drag Vegapunk away, I have absolutely no intention of stopping you."
Darren's lips twitched.
Try stopping me, then.
But after a beat, he realized the truth: it wasn't Borsalino he needed to overcome.
It was Vegapunk.
"Darren-san," Vegapunk said, half-amused, half-awkward, "I think you've misunderstood something…"
His gaze drifted past Darren and settled on Stussy.
She met his eyes—worry and hope tangled together in her expression.
Vegapunk smiled gently. "Little Stussy, it's alright. You don't need to worry about my safety. I can take care of myself."
Then he turned back to Darren, and his smile widened—warm, sincere.
"I appreciate your intentions. Truly. And I'm grateful you came all this way for me."
"But while I may be under strict surveillance… this is the most 'free' period of my life."
He let out a long, tired sigh.
"Before I worked with the Government—back when I was with MADS—my research was constantly strangled by funding."
Ideas died on paper. Inventions were abandoned halfway. Dreams were labeled 'failures' for a reason that had nothing to do with science—money.
"I had enough of that life," Vegapunk admitted quietly.
"Working with the World Government isn't ideal, no. But here, I gained resources beyond anything I could have imagined."
He spread his hands as if the entire island were sitting in his palms.
"I can pursue any idea I want. Even the ones that cost a fortune and have no immediate practical use. Even the ones that only exist because I want to know."
Darren frowned. Internally, he wasn't surprised.
If Vegapunk truly wanted to disappear, a mind like his could slip the Government's net a hundred different ways.
And ever since Darren set foot on Egghead—since he'd seen the machines, the systems, the sheer impossible ambition stamped into every bolt and corridor—a suspicion had been forming in him.
Vegapunk doesn't want to leave.
"Doctor…" Stussy's voice tightened. She bit her lip, trying to force the words out.
Vegapunk lifted a hand, gently cutting her off.
"Little Stussy, I don't know if you can fully understand me," he said softly, "but this is my choice."
Then he smiled—calm, almost peaceful.
"As Darren-san just said… what's the point of a long life if you can't live it fully?"
"For me, my personal freedom is restricted, yes. But I am steadily bringing my dream into reality—one step at a time."
His eyes burned with quiet, relentless devotion.
"That's enough."
Stussy stared into that gaze and found she had nothing left to say.
On Egghead, Vegapunk had lost the freedom to leave.
But he'd gained the freedom to create.
And for Vegapunk… research mattered more than comfort, more than liberty—perhaps even more than life.
"What if I could provide you with the funding?" Darren cut in abruptly.
Vegapunk shook his head, almost fond.
"Darren-san, I know you have money."
"But the cost of this institute exceeds what you can imagine. Even if you drained every last bit of tax revenue from the entire North Blue, it would still be a drop in the bucket."
"Only the World Government—holding the world's economic lifeline—can spend on this scale."
He didn't stop there.
"And research isn't just money. Equipment. Knowledge. Talent. Location. Environment."
His expression turned earnest, almost apologetic.
"These things can't be replaced."
He looked Darren straight in the eye, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"This is my destiny."
---
In the end, Darren and Stussy left.
Vegapunk's decision was firm. Darren had no leverage left to pull, no argument that could bend him—and violence was never an option.
At least the situation had one consolation: for the foreseeable future, as long as Vegapunk didn't cross a line the Government considered unforgivable, the people most desperate to keep him alive would be the Gorosei themselves.
Near Egghead's entrance, Borsalino smiled at Darren.
"Busy with military affairs," he said lazily. "I'll see you here, then."
Darren paused.
A Den Den Mushi appeared in his hand.
The instant Stussy saw it, her pupils shrank to pinpoints.
"A Gorosei-exclusive surveillance Den Den Mushi…?!" Her voice came out sharp with disbelief.
What stunned her even more was the fact that neither Darren nor Borsalino looked even slightly surprised.
"I found it in Vegapunk's lab," Darren said, and casually tossed it to Borsalino with a faint smile. "Borsalino—aren't you afraid the Gorosei will discover you?"
Borsalino weighed the Den Den Mushi in his palm, shrugged, and turned away. Without looking back, he lifted a hand in a lazy wave, his voice laced with teasing.
"Aren't you the one who's supposed to notice things like that?" he called over his shoulder.
Darren froze.
And in that moment—just as Borsalino stepped forward—something shifted at the edge of Darren's vision.
On Borsalino's back, beneath that broad cloak,
the elusive idea of justice seemed to flutter and dance like a phantom.
To be continued...