Marineford — Special Grade ICU
KING woke up.
Without warning, his lifeless eyes snapped open, staring blankly at the surgical lights overhead.
[Ding!]
[Detected: Host survived a direct hit from Yonko Kaido of the Beasts!]
[Judgment: Legendary Achievement Achieved!]
[Reward Settlement Complete…]
[Congratulations: True Ultimate Technique Acquried — Hellfire Unparalleled Explosive Wave Cannon!]
Yes.
Exactly the kind of thing you're imagining.
KING slowly pushed himself upright.
Tubes connected to his body swayed.
The medical monitors instantly erupted into shrill alarms, red lights flashing wildly.
"Vice Admiral KING! You're awake! Please don't move!"
The curvaceous nurse on duty rushed forward in shock.
KING ignored her.
He lowered his head.
His gaze fixed on the neatly folded hoodie lying on the bedside table — washed, repaired, but beyond saving.
He reached out.
His bandaged fingers trembled faintly.
From the torn pocket, he pulled something out.
Plop.
A drop of sticky liquid seeped from the warped plastic casing and stained the white sheets.
It was a handheld console.
Or rather—
it had been one.
The screen was shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.
Buttons were missing.
The body bent into a U-shape.
A faint smell of cola lingered inside.
His comrade.
The one he had tried to protect.
The one he failed to save when Kaido's kanabo struck.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The rhythm changed.
Not a heartbeat.
A machine starting.
The air pressure in the ICU thickened instantly.
The nurse felt as if invisible hands were choking her throat.
She stared at the man on the bed.
KING remained expressionless.
If Conqueror's Haki inspired fear…
then what radiated from him now was pure despair.
"…Dead."
He squeezed out the word.
The nurse's knees buckled.
She collapsed to the floor.
Dead?
Who died?
Did Vice Admiral KING feel despair because he failed to completely defeat Kaido?
Such ruthless self-discipline… terrifying!
The door clicked open.
Two towering figures entered.
"HA! Sengoku, see? I told you this kid's tougher than a cockroach!"
Garp's booming voice shattered the suffocating silence.
He clutched a bag of senbei, crumbs spraying with every word.
Sengoku entered beside him, expression grim.
When he saw the kneeling nurse and the oppressive aura filling the room, his glasses flashed white.
Even gravely injured…
the man's presence alone distorted the atmosphere.
"Leave," Sengoku said.
The nurse scrambled out in relief, shutting the door tightly behind her.
Only three men remained.
And in the corner—
a small black dog slept soundly.
Sengoku pulled a chair to the bedside.
"KING."
His voice was low.
"Although the process was… chaotic, the result is clear."
"You blocked Kaido."
KING stared at the shattered console.
No reaction.
"That Thunder Bagua would have killed any Vice Admiral."
"Your physique — and that… dog — have once again shattered Headquarters' expectations."
No reaction.
KING was prying at the exposed circuitry with his fingernail.
A vein throbbed on Sengoku's temple.
He isn't listening at all!
Ordinarily, Sengoku would have blasted such insolence across the room.
But with KING…
this behavior somehow felt normal.
"…Now that you're conscious, we will discuss your reassignment."
He tossed a document onto the blanket.
"After review by Headquarters' highest command, considering your performance in this battle…"
He paused deliberately.
"You are no longer suitable for routine duty."
"You are being transferred."
KING finally looked up.
His dead eyes drifted to the heading:
IMPEL DOWN PERSONNEL TRANSFER ORDER
"Shiryu of the Rain has been imprisoned for executing prisoners without authorization. The Chief Warden position is vacant."
Sengoku folded his arms.
"You are the optimal candidate."
"The inmates require a presence they fear."
"Your capabilities will be… effective."
Impel Down.
The undersea prison.
No sunlight.
No entertainment.
Only screams, torture… and Magellan's ten-hour daily diarrhea.
Most importantly—
no signal.
Troublesome.
Extremely troublesome.
KING's fingers stopped moving.
He placed the broken handheld gently beside his pillow.
Then—
under Sengoku and Garp's watchful eyes—
he reached for the IV needle.
Without hesitation—
Thud.
He pulled it out.
Blood beaded at the puncture.
KING pressed a tissue to it casually, threw aside the blanket, and stood.
Bare feet touched the cold floor.
"What are you doing?" Sengoku's brow tightened.
KING stood upright.
Pale. Wrapped in a hospital gown.
Yet the cold indifference radiating from him caused Sengoku's muscles to tense instinctively.
"I won't."
Three flat words.
As emotionless as stating:
I don't eat cilantro.
Sengoku's eyes sharpened.
"This is an order."
"Oh."
KING responded, already wandering toward the wardrobe.
Inside hung a spare Vice Admiral uniform and the white coat of justice.
He ignored the coat.
He took the shirt and trousers beneath it.
"What exactly are you doing?!" Sengoku snapped.
KING began dressing without turning around.
"Submitting my resignation."
Silence.
"If Headquarters finds me unsuitable…"
He buttoned his shirt wrong. Didn't care.
"I'll return to East Blue."
He slipped on the trousers.
Then added calmly:
"I'm at retirement age."
Garp stopped chewing.
Sengoku's glasses slid slightly down his nose.
In the corner, the little black dog snored softly.
And somewhere in the depths of Marineford,
the future of naval power structure began developing a migraine.