"So, why is Mihawk here?"
Kizaru blinked slowly behind his sunglasses, processing the absurd scene before him.
This man, Captain Mike, had just gone toe-to-toe with the World's Strongest Swordsman, leveled his own base in the process.
The sheer audacity was... well, it was strangely impressive.
'Ooh, my,' Kizaru thought, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face.
'Sengoku-san wasn't kidding. This one is... different.'
The Admiral's mind drifted back to the headache-inducing meeting he'd had with Fleet Admiral Sengoku just a few days ago.
He remembered the scent of stale tea and overwhelming stress that permeated the Fleet Admiral's office at Marine Headquarters.
.....
Sengoku had been pacing back and forth, his pet goat calmly chewing on a stack of important-looking documents while the most powerful man in the Navy looked ready to pull his own hair out.
"GARP! That old fool is driving me to an early grave!" Sengoku had roared, slamming his fist on his desk and sending a tower of paperwork cascading to the floor.
"He refuses promotions, destroys ships for 'training,' and now he's gallivanting across the seas again, leaving all this responsibility to me! I need a new hero! A new face for the Marines! Someone powerful, reliable, and—unlike that senile cracker-thief—someone who will actually listen to orders!"
It was a familiar tirade.
Sengoku's blood pressure and his complaints about Vice Admiral Garp were two of the great constants in the world.
"And that's where this young man comes in," Sengoku had said, sliding a file across the desk.
The name on the folder read: Captain "Slacker" Mike.
"A Captain from a branch in the East Blue?" Kizaru had asked, picking up the file with mild interest.
"Don't let the location fool you," Sengoku had grumbled, popping a rice cracker into his mouth with a loud crunch.
"His file is bizarre. He has a perfect mission success rate, yet his operational reports suggest he does the absolute bare minimum. He's beloved by his men, but they're known as the laziest branch in the entire sea. And according to a few classified reports, he's displayed power far beyond what a Captain should possess. He single-handedly resolved the Don Krieg incident without even filing a proper report, and there are whispers of a clash with Arlong's crew that ended before it even began."
Sengoku had leaned forward, his eyes burning with a desperate, almost manic fervor.
"He's strong, Kizaru. Potentially monstrously strong. But he's lazy. He's been hiding his strength to avoid responsibility. I want you to go to the East Blue, confirm his abilities, and drag him back to Headquarters, beat him up if you have to! We will mold him into a proper Marine, a symbol of Justice! He will be my solution to this Garp-sized headache!"
...
Now, standing in the ruins of Branch 186 and looking at the man who had just casually fought Mihawk to a standstill, Kizaru understood.
Sengoku hadn't been exaggerating.
Mike wasn't just a solution to a headache; he was a winning lottery ticket.
Mihawk, who had been noticing Kizaru arrival with a stoic expression, finally let out a soft sigh.
The moment the Admiral arrived, the thrill of the duel had evaporated, replaced by the tedious reality of politics and regulations.
"This has become boring," the swordsman stated flatly.
He gave Mike one last, appraising look.
"We will finish this another time."
Without another word, he turned around, his long coat billowing behind him and walked away from the wreckage, disappearing as quietly and mysteriously as he had arrived.
With the Warlord gone, Kizaru's full, lazy attention fell upon Mike.
"Well now, Captain Mike," Kizaru drawled, his voice deceptively light.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku sends his regards. He was so very impressed with your service record that he has personally requested your transfer back to Marine Headquarters for a... promotion."
Mike's internal victory party came to a screeching halt.
The smile from his recent Happy Points haul vanished.
This was it.
The moment he'd been trying to avoid.
But now, he had his ace in the hole.
He gestured around him at the utter devastation, his face a perfect mask of regret and professional responsibility.
"Admiral, I am deeply honored by the Fleet Admiral's faith in me," he began, his voice laced with feigned sincerity.
"However, as you can see, due to that... unfortunate and vigorous sparring session, my base of operations has been rendered completely uninhabitable. As the Captain in charge, it is my solemn duty to remain here and oversee the reconstruction efforts. It's a massive undertaking that could take... oh, at least a year. Maybe two. I simply cannot abandon my post in good conscience."
He almost had to bite his cheek to keep from grinning.
It was the perfect excuse!
Kizaru listened patiently, a single eyebrow arched.
When Mike finished, the Admiral brought a hand to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully.
"Ooh, a destroyed base is a very big problem, ne~" Kizaru said slowly, his voice still lazy, but with a new, chilling undertone.
The air grew heavy.
The smiles vanished from the faces of the nearby soldiers, replaced by a primal fear.
The Admiral raised a single finger.
A tiny, impossibly bright ball of golden light, no bigger than a marble, materialized at its tip, humming with unimaginable energy.
Kizaru looked from the tiny sun on his fingertip to the horizon, his smile returning, but this time it held no warmth.
"But you know," he continued, his voice a silky-smooth threat.
"If the whole island were to accidentally... disappear... then there would be no base left to repair, would there? Problem solved."
"..."
The world went silent.
The soldiers of Branch 186 felt a cold sweat break out on their foreheads.
They weren't just hearing a threat; they were witnessing the casual, terrifying power of a man who could erase them from existence with less effort than it took to swat a fly.
Mike stared at the miniature sun dancing on Kizaru's fingertip, and then at the Admiral's smiling, emotionless face.
In that moment, his beautiful, lazy future, filled with years of peaceful reconstruction and point-farming, went up in smoke.
He had been so focused on outsmarting the system that he'd forgotten he was dealing with one of the most powerful and ruthlessly pragmatic men on the planet.
A strained, stiff smile spread across Mike's face.
He snapped to attention, throwing the crispest salute of his entire career.
"On second thought, Admiral," he said, his voice chipper and utterly defeated.
"The paperwork for the reconstruction can be handled by my subordinates! I am ready to report to Marine Headquarters immediately! For Justice!"
Kizaru's blindingly bright marble of light vanished without a trace.
"Excellent decision," he cooed.
"I knew you were a smart one."
As Mike stood there, saluting with a dead look in his eyes, a final notification popped up in his mind.
[Ding!]
[Host has been successfully intimidated by a top-tier powerhouse. The plan to slack off has failed spectacularly.]
[However, a new stage is about to begin! Host is secretly looking forward to the bountiful Happy Points that await at Marine HQ! Mood: A Complex Mix of Resignation and Excitement. Happy Points +1000.]