The air between them grew thick with killing intent. Barrett's murderous aura rolled like a storm, pressing down on everything around him. Ezra D. Vale met that gaze with cold, unflinching eyes.
He had fought countless battles lately, leaving a trail of bodies and glory behind. His name as a Vice Admiral had already shaken the seas but fame came with a curse.
There were always fools eager to test it.
Every day, another pirate sought death by challenging him, convinced they could be the one to topple the "Crimson Admiral-in-the-making." Ezra wasn't tired of battle far from it. He thrived in combat. But the endless cycle of meaningless fights, the stream of nobodies desperate for attention, had started to grate on his nerves.
He wanted a worthy opponent not another bug buzzing at his ear.
Still, Barrett wasn't a bug. Not quite.
Ezra tilted his head slightly, his expression calm but dangerous. "Alright then. But not here. Loguetown's not the place for this."
Barrett glanced toward a nearby island, a barren strip of land rising from the sea like a scar. "What about there?"
Ezra followed his gaze, then shrugged. "Fine by me."
"Good," Barrett replied simply, turning to leave. "I'll be waiting."
His heavy boots crunched against the stone as he walked away, every step echoing like the toll of a war drum.
Ezra rubbed his temple and sighed. "I really need to figure something out…"
A pause. Then he muttered to himself, half amused, half frustrated, "Do I have to become an Admiral just to get some peace?"
The thought hung in the air for a moment before solidifying into resolve.
He looked out toward the horizon, his crimson cloak fluttering. "Alright. I've decided. Time to aim higher I'll become an Admiral sooner than anyone expects."
The positions weren't all filled yet. There was room for one more name among the Navy's highest ranks. All he had to do was take it.
Still, that begged the question how?
Lost in thought, Ezra started toward the island where Barrett waited, each step slow but certain.
He didn't realize that far away, in the grand halls of Marineford, Fleet Admiral Sengoku was wrestling with a problem of his own.
Inside the office, Sengoku sat behind a mountain of paperwork. His brow was furrowed, his pen tapping rhythmically against a list on his desk. The paper bore four names all Vice Admirals. All legends in the making.
Borsalino. Sakazuki. Kuzan. Ezra D. Vale.
It was the shortlist for the next Admirals.
Sengoku stared at the page, his pen hovering indecisively.
"Borsalino and Sakazuki have seniority," he muttered to himself, tapping their names. "Their combat records and mission success rates meet the requirements easily."
He circled both names with deliberate strokes. Two choices made two still lingering.
That left him with the dilemma.
Ezra's record wasn't quite complete in terms of assignments, but his influence, strength, and sheer notoriety had already surpassed the others. Wherever he went, the seas bent around him.
Sengoku leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. "In terms of presence and raw power, he's leagues ahead… but still short on paper."
He drew a third circle around Ezra's name anyway, muttering to himself, "If only the system wasn't so rigid."
He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Why can't there just be four Admirals? Would that be so bad?"
But of course, it was. The World Government had made it very clear three Admirals, no more, no less. Anything beyond that, and the balance of power would shift too far toward the Navy. The Government couldn't afford a military force it couldn't fully control.
That was what tied Sengoku's hands.
Four men, all deserving. But only three seats.
He was still lost in thought when the door to his office opened abruptly.
"Yo, Sengoku. Got a minute?"
The familiar voice belonged to Zephyr, the burly Marine veteran who strode in with his usual casual confidence. Sengoku looked up, slightly surprised. "Zephyr? What brings you here?"
Zephyr tossed a folder onto the desk. His tone was calm, but there was something final about it. "You've been agonizing over those names long enough. I think it's time."
Sengoku frowned, picking up the folder. The moment he read the title, his eyes widened.
"Zephyr… this is !"
"Yeah," Zephyr said, grinning faintly. "A resignation letter."
Sengoku stood from his chair, his voice sharp. "You can't be serious!"
Zephyr crossed his arms and chuckled softly. "Come on, old friend. I'm not getting any younger. My strength isn't what it used to be. Besides, training those kids in the Elite Class keeps me plenty busy. I don't need to hog a title I barely use anymore."
The room fell quiet. Sengoku stared at him, the weight of years in his eyes.
Zephyr smiled, though there was a hint of melancholy in it. "Don't look so glum, Sengoku. I'm not leaving the Navy. I'll still be around, just not on the front lines. You'll still see me yelling at rookies every morning."
Sengoku exhaled heavily. "I should have known this day would come… but I didn't think it would come so soon."
"Ha! Sooner or later, it happens to all of us," Zephyr said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You've got enough headaches without me in the mix. Consider this my gift to you one less problem."
He turned toward the door, adding with a faint grin, "And besides, I'll finally have time to visit my family for once."
Sengoku's expression softened. He rose and gave a respectful nod. "If that's your decision, Zephyr… then I accept it."
"Thanks, old friend."
With that, Zephyr walked out, his heavy boots echoing down the corridor.
Sengoku remained seated, staring at the names on the list again.
Now there were three.
Borsalino. Sakazuki. Ezra D. Vale.
He tapped Ezra's name one last time, deep in thought, before picking up the receiver of a Den Den Mushi. The snail phone blinked and chimed as the line connected.
After several rings, a familiar lazy voice answered, accompanied by the faint sound of a bicycle gliding over ice.
"Moshi moshi… Fleet Admiral Sengoku? What's up?"
"Kuzan," Sengoku said, his voice firm. "Where are you right now?"
The voice on the other end paused, and the sound of waves echoed faintly. "Somewhere north of G-5. Should reach Marineford in a day or two."
"Good. Get here as soon as possible. I need to discuss something with you in person."
Kuzan raised an eyebrow, though Sengoku couldn't see it. "That sounds serious. Should I be worried?"
Sengoku's tone deepened. "Just come back first. You'll understand soon enough."
The line clicked dead.
For a moment, silence filled the office. Then Sengoku leaned back, rubbing his temples. A faint idea was forming in his mind one that could solve his dilemma. But it depended entirely on Kuzan's cooperation.
Out at sea, Kuzan sighed as he stared at the quiet horizon. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to end well?"
With a shake of his head, he pedaled harder, his frozen path stretching toward the glowing lights of Marineford.
The tide of history was shifting once again.
And both the Navy and the pirates could feel the storm building on the horizon.
_______________________
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