The sun hung high, its light washing over drifting clouds that shifted shapes in the sky. Far below, the vast blue sea stretched endlessly.
Cutting through the waters was a colossal Marine warship, flying the symbol of peace and justice—the white seagull flag. Beside it fluttered another banner:
A large flag with a single, bold character:
"Tsuru."
This was no ordinary ship.
It was a floating fortress—massive, armored, bristling with cannons and gunports.
Marines patrolled the deck with disciplined steps, their formation impeccable.
Wherever the warship passed, pirate vessels in the distance fled instantly.
Not because of the Marine flag alone,
but because of the other flag—the one that carried a name all pirates feared.
The flag of Vice Admiral Tsuru.
Inside the Warship – Tsuru's Office
The office was bright, spacious, and immaculate. Sitting behind the desk was a woman with loosely draped bangs and long dark blue hair tied in a ponytail.
She wore a blue and white Marine uniform beneath a Justice cape. Silver bracelets adorned her wrist, and green earrings hung from her ears.
She was strikingly beautiful—mature, composed, her elegance sharpened by an air of authority.
Her figure was curvaceous yet disciplined, and her face looked barely in her thirties.
In truth, she was already past fifty.
This was Vice Admiral Tsuru, Chief Strategist of Marine Headquarters.
A woman whose strength, intelligence, beauty, and influence made her one of the Marines' pillars.
Compared to the frail old woman she would become twenty years later, this Tsuru was in her prime—a breathtaking existence.
"How long until we reach Marineford, Yoska?" Tsuru asked without lifting her gaze from the intelligence file in her hand.
A plump woman with a green afro, sunglasses, and bright lipstick—Rear Admiral Yoska—answered dutifully, "Vice Admiral, we should arrive tomorrow."
"Good."
Tsuru continued reading without expression.
Another woman entered the room, balancing several cups of coffee. She had short yellow hair, a lean frame, and wore a purple-collared Marine shirt.
This was Rear Admiral Natayubis, a two-sword-style officer, and one of Tsuru's trusted subordinates.
"Vice Admiral," Natayubis asked, "is it true that Gol D. Roger is currently in the South Blue?"
"More than fifty percent likely," Tsuru replied after taking a sip of coffee.
"So our trip to the North Blue was for nothing," Yoska muttered, drinking her own coffee.
Tsuru looked around.
"Where is Yafeil?"
Natayubis thought for a moment. "The boy we rescued just woke up. She should be visiting him."
Yoska sighed. "He survived, but his eye… It's unlikely to recover."
Natayubis clenched her jaw. "Damn pirates. Not even sparing children or the elderly. Too bad the captain escaped."
Tsuru remained quiet, face unreadable.
They had passed the burning village while patrolling and annihilated the Scarblade Pirates—but their arrival had been too late.
More than a hundred villagers had already been slaughtered.
Only one survivor remained.
A half-dead, half-grown boy.
Scarblade, the pirate captain, had slipped away without Tsuru even glimpsing him.
As Chief Strategist, Tsuru's workload was immense. Cases like this—tragic massacres—were far too common. She had long become numb to such scenes.
At best, she ordered her subordinates to treat the survivor well, then moved on.
Medical Bay – A Boy Awakens
Foxxy's right eye snapped open.
Cold sweat drenched half his bandaged face. Pain stabbed through his chest and skull—sharp, burning, alive.
His left eye was wrapped completely, and only his right eye and mouth were exposed. His torso was tightly bound in bandages, and a drip was fed into his arm.
The last thing he remembered was collapsing in the burning village—then being carried away by Marines.
He exhaled shakily.
He was still alive.
Just barely.
"You're awake?"
The door opened, revealing a nurse in white.
Or rather, a mountain in a nurse uniform—massive, muscular, towering.
She carried medical supplies with ease.
"This is…?" Foxxy croaked.
"You're aboard a Marine warship," she said as she began changing his bandages. "Your chest was crushed—you'll need several days of bed rest."
"…Thank you."
The gratitude came from deep within him.
"It was Vice Admiral Tsuru who saved you," the nurse added with a pleasant smile.
"Vice Admiral Tsuru…? The Chief Strategist?"
Foxxy's heart thumped. "Can I meet her?"
"I'll ask for you. For now, rest."
"Thank you."
When she left, Foxxy stared up at the ceiling, emotions swirling—grief, hatred, determination.
He had to survive.
He had to grow stronger.
He had to change.
This was his opportunity.
Rear Admiral Yafeil Arrives
Before long, a woman with short black hair and a voluptuous figure entered the room. She wore a Marine coat draped over her shoulders with the confidence of someone long accustomed to authority.
Foxxy recognized instantly—
A Marine officer.
"You wished to see Vice Admiral Tsuru?" she asked gently.
"You are…?"
"Rear Admiral Yafeil, Marine Headquarters."
"Thank you… for saving me," Foxxy said sincerely.
Yafeil nodded. "Saving civilians and protecting justice is our duty. What's your name, child?"
"Foxxy… Wang Foxxy."
"Well, Foxxy—you're safe now."
Foxxy hesitated, then asked with desperate hope:
"Rear Admiral… was anyone else in the village saved?"
Yafeil's expression faltered.
"…No. Only you."
Foxxy's breath hitched. His chest tightened painfully.
"What about the pirates…?"
"The captain escaped."
Silence filled the room.
Foxxy's gaze turned hollow.
"…I understand," he whispered.
Yafeil rose. She sighed softly—he was just a child.
But before she reached the door—
"Rear Admiral!" Foxxy pushed himself up despite the pain. "I want to thank Vice Admiral Tsuru in person… and I want to join the Marines."
Yafeil paused, turning back.
"I can ask for you. But Vice Admiral Tsuru is extremely busy. She may not—"
"I am a Devil Fruit user," Foxxy said urgently. "Please… give me a chance."
Yafeil blinked, surprised.
A Devil Fruit user?
Her eyes softened, then sharpened with new interest.
"Very well. Rest for now. I'll inform the Vice Admiral."
"Thank you… Thank you so much."
As the door closed, Foxxy collapsed back onto the bed, gritting his teeth against the pain.
He stared at the ceiling, right eye burning with fierce, newfound resolve.
He must change.
He must survive.
He must grow stronger.
For himself.
For the villagers who saved him.
For Abis's final words—
"You must live."
And so, he would.
No matter what it took.