Purupuru, purupuru…
Just as Sengoku's temper was nearing its limit, the Military Den Den Mushi in his arms began to ring.
He frowned, fished it out, checked the signal, and took a slow breath to steady himself. A strained smile was forced onto his face as he answered.
"Saint Saturn, Excellency. This is Sengoku."
Jaygarcia Saturn's voice came through—raspy, cold, and utterly without warmth.
"Sengoku. Report the status of Marine deployment."
Sengoku answered in a low, even tone. "Reporting, Excellency. Our main forces have arrived at G-1 and are establishing the security perimeter. We will conduct intensive patrols within a three-nautical-mile radius of Red Port to ensure the safety of the member state delegations' vessels."
Saturn's reply was flat. "The Marines' escort duties end once the delegations reach Red Port. Escort beyond that point will be handled by the Cipher Pol agencies. CP0 Senior Agent 'Fox' will lead the operation."
Sengoku's jaw tightened. A bite of resentment slipped into his voice despite his efforts.
"Saint Saturn, Excellency… as the Marines represent Justice on the seas, shouldn't we send a representative to observe the ceremony? It would reinforce security in the Holy Land and reassure the nations—"
"That won't be necessary," Saturn cut in coldly, severing the sentence in half.
"The Marines' only mission this time is to secure Red Port. The nobles' gifts must be protected at all costs."
"Sengoku, you must understand. The attack on the Holy Land caused heavy losses among the nobility. The heartfelt offerings from the member states will soothe their wounded spirits."
"This is a critical task. We entrusted it to you because we believe in your capabilities."
Damn it, Sengoku cursed inwardly.
I'm a Marine Admiral.
Since when did I fall so low that I'm guarding a vault?
And Saturn's talk of importance—of absolute success—was the kind of polished nonsense Sengoku had listened to for years.
The truth was simple.
The Government didn't trust the Marines.
"Do you have any objections?" Saturn asked. There was a warning threaded through the calm, as if he'd noticed Sengoku's silence.
"None at all, Saint Saturn, Excellency. My thinking was short-sighted." Sengoku kept the smile on his face, though his fist clenched for a heartbeat before he forced it to relax. "Thank you for your trust, Excellencies. I will ensure this mission succeeds."
"Hm." Saturn paused, as if tossing Sengoku a bone to chew on. After a moment, he continued slowly, "As you are aware, the past few months have seen a succession of grave incidents."
"The Felsek Incident in the North Blue, the attack on the Holy Land, the North Blue's secession from the member state system… Any one of these could have triggered historical upheaval. Instead, they occurred back-to-back, with disastrous consequences."
"Though such matters are insignificant to us, the nobles of the Holy Land have grown deeply disillusioned with the Marines."
Sengoku's eye twitched.
As if I didn't warn you.
Stay away from that damned Darren.
You refused to listen. You had to flaunt your power and status in front of that lunatic—
And now you've pushed him into open rebellion, and you're pinning it on me?
The resentment rose like bile. Sengoku's chest lifted with a slow, controlled breath.
"My apologies, Saint Saturn, Excellency," he said, lips pressed thin.
"Sengoku, you must understand," Saturn went on, and for the first time there was the faintest suggestion of a smile in his tone, "we have always held great trust in you. Once the turbulence subsides and the nobles' perception of the Marines improves, we will propose that you succeed Kong as Fleet Admiral of Marine Headquarters."
"Therefore, you must not disappoint us again."
"…Yes, Saint Saturn, Excellency," Sengoku replied, bowing slightly.
He hesitated, then added, "Excellency, there is another matter I'd like to report—regarding the military budget request we submitted earlier…"
"We will discuss that after the inauguration," Saturn said calmly, cutting him off. "Do your job."
Sengoku stiffened.
Before he could answer, the line went dead.
Gaa… gaa…
The Den Den Mushi's drowsy snoring filled the silence while Sengoku stood motionless.
"A-Admiral Sengoku…" A nearby personal guard studied his expression and spoke with a careful, trembling respect.
"Leave me," Sengoku said, waving him away without looking. "I want some peace."
The guard spun and fled as if pardoned.
"I'm not the one who's been disappointing you," Sengoku muttered after a long pause. He exhaled, tilted his head, and stared up at the clear blue sky.
Then he turned—
—and nearly snapped his jaw clean off.
Borsalino was sprawled in a beach chair not far away, lounging as though this were a holiday resort. Sengoku hadn't even sensed him approach.
"What are you doing on my battleship again?!" Sengoku barked, veins threatening to rise.
Borsalino lifted a shoulder, grin lazy. "Bored, you know? We Marines aren't exactly invited to the Holy Land for these ceremonies."
Sengoku shot him a sharp look. "How's Impel Down? Did Darren tear Level Six apart yet?"
Borsalino's expression turned wonderfully blank. He scratched his head, playing innocent. "No idea, Admiral Sengoku…"
"Don't play dumb, you brat." Sengoku rolled his eyes. "You think I don't know my own adjutant?"
Borsalino finally raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright… Impel Down's still quiet. For now."
A teasing curve tugged at his lips. "Darren's getting along great with the Eternal Hell prisoners. They even threw a party together…"
"That brat let the prisoners out?" Sengoku paused, then sighed and shook his head.
Typical.
He wasn't worried about an escape. Sengoku knew Darren well enough.
No matter how insane the boy acted, even scum had their lines.
From the North Blue to now, the brat hadn't changed at all.
Sengoku was about to ask more when a prickling sensation crawled over his skin. He turned, eyes narrowing.
Out on the sea, strange silhouettes began to appear one after another, emerging like omens:
Brown warships carved with crocodile figureheads.
Steel submarines breaking the surface with a hiss.
Ghostly skiffs bearing massive black crosses.
Rust-eaten hulks that drifted like coffins, radiating an eerie presence…
"Those are…"
Sengoku's eyes went bloodshot.
"The Shichibukai … they've been granted the right to observe the ceremony?!"
To be continued...