The thought of having to bow and scrape before the Gorosei for the foreseeable future left Sengoku sick to his stomach.
Suspicion could take root in a heartbeat. Trust, on the other hand, took months—years—to rebuild.
In the short term, unless he pulled off some extraordinary feat that forced recognition, there was no restoring the Gorosei's confidence. Not now.
After all, Saint Michael, Commander of the Knights of God, had died "by accident" more than two weeks ago.
And yet Sengoku, an Admiral of Marine Headquarters, had not learned the world-shaking news until three days after it happened.
Worse, it had not come from the Gorosei at all.
The information had been leaked to him privately by Fleet Admiral Kong of the World Government, the man overseeing operations.
That alone told Sengoku exactly how far the Marines' standing had fallen in the eyes of the men above.
"…Then let's cooperate well during the inauguration," Sengoku said at last, forcing his shoulders square and a strained smile onto his face. "I look forward to working with you, Lady Fox."
"And congratulations on your promotion. Becoming the Celestial Dragons' Strongest Shield is only a matter of time."
Stussy's tone remained polite, her smile measured. "You're too kind, Admiral Sengoku. It's an honor to coordinate with Marine Headquarters."
"As for that promotion… I know my own limits. With strength like mine, I'm not fit to take the position of the Celestial Dragons' Strongest Shield."
A few more exchanges, all surface and courtesy, and the call ended.
Marine Headquarters, Admiral's Office.
Sengoku set the Den Den Mushi down and let out a slow, stale breath.
This CP0 agent—Fox—was different from the rest.
He had dealt with countless CP0 operatives over the years, men and women who served the Gorosei and the Celestial Dragons. Almost without exception, they were arrogant, self-important, and maddening to communicate with.
Even when facing him, an Admiral, they spoke as if doing him a favor. No respect, no restraint. Every discussion turned into a headache that split his skull.
They acted like servants of the Celestial Dragons were a higher species.
But Fox…
Her manner, her words—somehow, they left him with the rare sensation that he was dealing with a reasonable human being.
At least for the next operation, he would not have to endure those CP0 bastards barking orders and swaggering around like they owned the sea.
Sengoku shook his head, then let out a humorless laugh.
This Admiral of mine really does not command much respect anymore.
"Darren… you've caused me no end of trouble."
He rubbed at his temples, eyes drifting toward the window and the vast stretch of ocean beyond.
Saint Michael's death still sat heavily in his chest. He had never imagined Darren would become strong enough to kill the so-called strongest Celestial Dragon head-on.
And Sengoku could already see what came next.
If Darren kept carving his path through the world, suspicion and resentment toward the Marines would only deepen. The thought made his molars ache.
"Just wait until I get my hands on you," Sengoku growled, fist tightening. "Then you'll see…"
"Then what, exactly?"
The voice came from inside the office, amused and effortless, finishing the sentence for him.
Sengoku's pupils shrank.
He spun and threw a punch without thinking.
Boom!
A dull shock burst in the air as a rough, calloused hand caught Sengoku's fist in a vise-grip.
Sengoku's eyes widened.
"Impossible!"
It felt like he had struck a mountain. His force vanished into that palm as if swallowed, and the hand did not move an inch.
Even if Sengoku had not used his full strength—only a probing strike—the sight was absurd.
Darren's strength has grown to this extent?
Sengoku stared at the black-haired youth's relaxed grin. His expression twisted through disbelief, anger, calculation, and finally settled into a hard glare.
"You brat. Why are you here?!"
Golden light began to seep from Sengoku's body—the beginning of his transformation into the Mythical Zoan Great Buddha.
Darren released his fist at once, retreated two steps, and raised both hands in surrender, smiling wide.
"Don't get worked up, Admiral Sengoku. Renovations in this office aren't cheap."
Sengoku's mouth twitched. "So what!?"
"Don't try to change the subject. I was clear last time. The next time we meet, I'll arrest you—maybe even execute you!"
"And here you are, strolling into Marineford like you own it… and walking straight into my office!"
"I'll deal with you, you wretched little—"
"Alright, alright. I'm not here to fight today," Darren cut in, impatient and casual, as if Sengoku's fury were background noise. He dropped into the leather sofa and poured himself a cup of fresh tea.
"I did my homework. Vice Admiral Garp isn't at Headquarters today. Borsalino, Sakazuki, and Kuzan are all out, too. If I had to guess…" He took a sip, eyes half-lidded, voice light. "They're escorting representatives from the member nations to Mary Geoise for the inauguration ceremony, right?"
He blew gently across the tea, then smiled, sharp and smug.
"With the other Admiral-level monsters away, you can't take me down alone, old man. Honestly, I could make your day very difficult."
Blue arcs of electricity snapped between Darren's fingertips.
Sengoku's face darkened.
A cold, crimson glint flared behind his eyes. Through Observation Haki, he caught a horrifying glimpse—Marineford's central fortress collapsing into rubble.
At the same time, he noticed the encrypted Den Den Mushi lined up in the office had gone silent, as if dead.
That damned brat.
"What exactly do you want, Darren?!" Sengoku roared, beard bristling as he glared, fury burning hot enough to scorch the air.
To be continued...