At the special military harbor behind Marineford, waves tirelessly battered the black breakwater, producing a dull, monotonous thud.
This was one of Headquarters' most secret corners, shrouded year-round in clammy, gray-white mist.
"Whoosh—"
Gion's ship extinguished most of its porthole lights and glided soundlessly into the deepest berth.
With a teeth-grinding scrape of metal, the heavy gangway lowered and thudded onto the wet stone of the pier.
The dock was empty—no military police detail, no logistics porters.
Waiting in formation instead was an all-female unit.
A little over twenty of them, wearing deep-blue custom uniforms—more fitted and more practical than standard Marine attire. Their caps were pulled low, shadowing most of their faces.
They were Vice Admiral Tsuru's personal guard—her direct attendants. Throughout all of Marineford, they answered only to Tsuru. They were the sharpest surgical scalpel in her hand.
At the front stood a woman colonel in her early thirties with neat black short hair.
She walked straight up to Gion's adjutant. The adjutant was a hardened veteran, but under the colonel's cold stare, he still felt a suffocating pressure creep up his spine.
The colonel didn't salute. No pleasantries.
Expressionless, she raised her white-gloved right hand and opened her palm to display a badge.
"I'm Colonel Melissa, Vice Admiral Tsuru's adjutant."
Her voice was icy, purely procedural. "By Vice Admiral Tsuru's order, I am here to assume custody of all personnel related to the G-17 Branch incident."
Gion's adjutant instinctively glanced at the several hundred surrendered soldiers behind him and hesitated. "Ma'am, according to protocol, these witnesses should first be isolated by the Military Police and have statements recorded—"
"No need."
Melissa cut him off without looking at him. "Rear Admiral Gion has already spoken with Vice Admiral Tsuru. Their destination was decided long ago."
Her gaze swept over the trembling soldiers, as if she were looking at people who were already gone. "They'll be sent directly to the Purification Facility. There, not only the dirt on their bodies—"
Her eyes narrowed a fraction.
"—but the unnecessary memories in their heads will be washed clean."
The adjutant went rigid and immediately shut his mouth, stepping back.
No one in the Navy was ignorant of Tsuru's Wash-Wash Fruit. It didn't just wash clothes. It could wash away grime, wash away fatigue—and of course, wash away certain "memories" that should never exist.
Melissa flicked her hand. "Move. Quickly."
At her command, the silent women surged onto the deck.
Their movements were perfectly synchronized. Before the surrendered soldiers even understood what was happening, they were forced down the gangway under escort.
Soon, the vast deck was empty again.
The sea wind swept through, carrying away the last trace of noise.
"Let's go." Gion adjusted her Justice coat, her expression complicated as she looked toward the towering Headquarters building in the distance. "Vice Admiral Tsuru should be waiting in her office."
…
Marine Headquarters, top floor
Tsuru's office lay in the deepest part of the floor. There were no unnecessary decorations—just walls of books and piles of intelligence reports stacked like mountains. The air smelled faintly of ink and tea.
When Rain and Gion entered, Tsuru stood by the tea station at the window, her back to the door, rinsing a few cups.
"Shhh—"
Water streamed over porcelain.
"Sit."
Without turning, she pointed at the chairs beside the tea table. Her voice was flat.
Rain pulled out a chair and sat down without hesitation, relaxed. Gion hesitated before sitting beside him, posture subtly tense.
Tsuru glanced at Rain, a trace of recollection in her tone. "The last time we spoke face-to-face like this… was two years ago in Loguetown, wasn't it?"
She poured tea as she spoke. Her voice was a little hoarse, with a distinctive texture that carried in the quiet room.
"Back then you were sixteen. I thought you had potential, wanted to promote you straight to captain. And what happened?"
She slid a cup toward Rain, lifted her lids, and fixed him with a steady look. "You rejected me to my face. Said you didn't want a promotion—you wanted to stay at that little execution platform in Loguetown, quiet and steady, just an executioner."
Rain looked at the steaming tea. The clear surface reflected a face far more mature than before.
He didn't drink immediately. He lifted the cup, blew gently to chase off the heat, and smiled mildly.
"Yes. I was young. Thought less trouble was better. Just wanted to coast. My thanks to Vice Admiral Tsuru for being 'decisive' back then—stuffing me into Instructor Zephyr's elite training roster anyway. Otherwise I'd probably still be sunbathing on Loguetown's pier."
"Don't get cute with me."
Tsuru shot him a look. Her gaze sharpened. "I tossed you into the training program because I thought your blade was too sharp. Unpolished, it would cut its owner first."
She tapped the tabletop lightly.
"I wanted you to learn how to be a Marine under Zephyr. And instead—"
Her fingers rapped once, crisp. "You went and stabbed G-17 clean through. Do you have any idea how chaotic things are outside right now?"
The air in the office froze.
Gion's hands clenched on her lap. She knew exactly how heavy Tsuru's words were. If this wasn't handled properly, Rain wouldn't be facing just a court-martial.
She inhaled and leaned forward, rushing to take responsibility. "Vice Admiral Tsuru, the operation was approved by me. Every decision was mine—"
"Gion."
Tsuru didn't look at her. She simply said her name—quietly, but with absolute authority.
Gion's words jammed in her throat. She opened her mouth, then could only close it, helplessly, and look at Rain.
"Victor is dead. Nelson is dead. Those outcomes, I expected." Tsuru's tone stayed level. "Gion told me the broad strokes over the phone, but some details aren't convenient to discuss that way."
She leaned forward, pressure heavy in the room.
"But Rain. Explain the two CP0 agents."
Reports could be dressed up—killed by stray fire, killed in the chaos, vanished in the confusion.
But in front of Tsuru, word games like that were children's lies.
Rain's smile faded.
He didn't dodge her gaze. He didn't reach for the prepared excuses.
He set down the teacup, leaned back slightly, fingers interlaced on his knee—relaxed posture, but eyes iron-hard.
"I killed them."
No hesitation. No deflection.
Gion's breath caught, heart pounding. In Marine Headquarters, openly admitting you killed CP0—World Government's own—was a forbidden line. A blade against your own throat.
Rain didn't seem to notice her tension. Calmly, he recounted everything: the underground warehouse, the filthy trade, the decision he made, and finally—at D-Zone harbor—how Victor, Nelson, and the CP0 agents were all wiped out.
"They were all people who deserved to die. So I killed them."
He finished, lifted his tea, and took a sip—completely unbothered.
The room fell into a deathly silence.
Only the clock's ticking remained, and Gion's slightly faster breathing.
Gion watched Tsuru, bracing for thunder.
But Tsuru didn't explode.
She simply… fell silent.
After a long while, she spoke softly, as if tasting the words.
"Living statues… Warlords… Celestial Dragons…"
Fatigue and disgust seeped into her voice. "Those creatures on the top of the Red Line… after all these years, still just as nauseating. Their 'taste' has always been built on other people's blood and tears."
Tsuru let out a long breath and raised her head.
The sharpness in her eyes eased, replaced by a complicated, almost approving look.
"Good kill."
Gion's eyes widened in shock.
"What—surprised?" Tsuru snorted. "The word 'Justice' behind the Navy isn't there as a fig leaf for garbage like them. If we don't even have that bottom line, what's the difference between us and pirates?"
Then her expression hardened again as she looked at Rain.
"But Rain. The world isn't black and white. If all you have is hot blood and a sense of justice, you won't live long."
"CP0 are the Celestial Dragons' dogs. And beating dogs means dealing with their masters. World Government is already in an uproar. Saint Charlmaco is throwing a tantrum over not receiving his 'shipment' and demanding the Navy hand over the killer."
"I know." Rain's voice didn't change. "That's why I left witnesses and planted evidence of Victor's attack. As long as the Navy acknowledges it, that becomes the only truth."
"The World Government fears scandal more than it fears us. The Warlord system is just getting traction—if this dirt comes out, its credibility collapses."
Rain pointed at himself, matter-of-fact. "They need a fig leaf. I'm the hero who suppressed the rebellion. Victor's the deranged pirate. Everyone likes that story—and everyone has to believe it."
Tsuru stared at him, then suddenly smiled.
"Good boy." She shook her head faintly. "Not just strong fists—fast brain, too. You've got the top's instincts pinned down."
She straightened, the air around her shifting back into the commanding presence of the Navy's grand strategist.
"Fine. If you have that resolve, then this old woman will act out the play with you."
"I'll talk to Fleet Admiral Kong. I'll make your lie into a 'sealed case.'"
"But—"
Tsuru walked to the door, her hand resting on the knob. She paused.
Without turning, her voice carried back clearly:
"If you want the Navy to protect you and take the pressure for you—if you want Kong and Sengoku to play along—then brains and silver tongues aren't enough."
"The Navy is an institution of force. We recognize fists."
"You need to prove—"
Tsuru spun around, eyes like lightning. "—that you have the weight to make it worth offending the Celestial Dragons for you."
She held Rain's gaze, a glint of expectation. "Victor wasn't some random nobody you could kill like a stray cat. He stayed alive on these seas for a reason. Show me what gave you the right to kill him."
Rain didn't stand up. He didn't take a fighting stance.
He simply stayed seated and, from the tea tray in front of him, delicately picked up a small silver spoon used for stirring.
"Zz."
A faint, insect-wing hum of electricity filled the silent room.
A thin blue arc slid from Rain's fingertips—like a little serpent—wrapping around the spoon.
And in the space of a heartbeat—
The spoon melted.
It was instantaneous heat from ultra-high-frequency current. The metal lost all meaning as "solid," becoming a floating bead of liquid silver between Rain's fingers.
Then, under an invisible magnetic pull, the bead spun, stretched, reformed—
In the blink of an eye—
Ding.
Rain released his fingers.
A flawless, silver-white bullet slipped from his fingertips into the empty teacup with a crisp metallic tap.
Solid to liquid, liquid to solid again.
Not just heat—micro-level control of electromagnetism and energy, refined to the edge of insanity.
Tsuru stared at the bullet resting at the bottom of the cup. Her pupils tightened sharply.
She'd lived through the old era. She'd seen legends, monsters, impossible talents. She knew exactly what this meant.
This wasn't merely the destructive output of a Logia.
It was talent—and potential—worth reshaping the Navy's future around.
"Logia… the Rumble-Rumble Fruit."
Tsuru drew a slow breath as she looked at the young man before her. Her decision formed cleanly.
A future top-tier combatant—one of the Navy's next "highest powers."
Offending a Celestial Dragon for a future like that?
Worth it.
"Good. Very good."
Tsuru's face settled into satisfaction. She pulled the heavy office door wide open.
Hallway light spilled in, catching the bold "Justice" across her coat like a blade.
"Come."
Without looking back, Tsuru walked out, her voice ringing with authority.
"Let's go see the Fleet Admiral."
Rain stood, smoothed the faint wrinkles in his collar, and gave the still-stunned Gion a quick wink—wearing an easy, almost playful smile.
~~~
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