Chapter 96: Revelations and Reunions
The matter of Cyriss was settled. The furious, sputtering denial from Fleet Admiral Sengoku over the Den Den Mushi had been answer enough. While Sengoku hadn't reprimanded Satoru for the mission's failure, his volcanic outrage at the mention of the 'Millennium Kill' and his colorful threats against Cyriss painted a clear picture. Satoru had smirked, hung up, and put the whole affair behind him.
Two days later, the warship bearing Admiral White Dragon returned to the formidable walls of Marine Base G-8.
Satoru had sent word ahead. As the ship docked, he found the entire garrison assembled on the pier, standing at rigid attention. The moment his white hair and Admiral's coat appeared at the gangway, a deafening, unified roar erupted.
"ADMIRAL WHITE DRAGON!"
The cheer was thunderous, raw with pride and excitement. These were his men. The ones he'd trained, bled with, and rebuilt a fortress alongside. Their triumph was his, and his ascension was theirs.
A faint, genuine smile touched Satoru's lips. He raised a hand.
Silence fell instantly, so complete it was startling.
"To celebrate this promotion," Satoru announced, his voice carrying easily across the quiet dock, "the base will hold a feast tonight. All personnel are on leave. No duty rotations."
For a heartbeat, there was stunned silence. Then, the dam broke.
"YEEEEAAAAAHHHH!"
"THANK YOU, SIR! THANK YOU, ADMIRAL!"
"ADMIRAL! I LOVE YOU! I'LL NAME MY FIRSTBORN AFTER YOU!"
The cheers were chaotic, joyful, and deafening. For Marines stationed in the relentless pressure cooker of the New World, a full day of sanctioned revelry was a rare treasure. As for security? Satoru would handle it. With his Six Eyes, no intrusion would go unnoticed.
That evening, the base erupted in controlled chaos. Music, laughter, the clink of mugs, and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. Satoru watched from a high railing, a silent observer. He saw the release of a year's worth of pent-up stress and discipline. His harsh training had forged them; tonight, they celebrated the strength it had given them.
Every one of them is an elite now, he thought with satisfaction. A small force, but a potent one. They could topple a corrupt kingdom.
A soft breeze stirred, carrying a familiar, gravelly voice to his ear. "An impressive fighting force. You could dismantle a tyranny with this lot."
Satoru didn't turn. He'd sensed the presence the moment it entered the base's perimeter. "Leader Dragon. Did you come all this way just to offer congratulations?"
Monkey D. Dragon materialized from the shadows beside him, holding a stolen mug of ale. He gestured with it. "Nothing more." He took a long drink.
"Tell me something," Satoru asked, his gaze still on the celebrating Marines below. "Among the other three Admirals… is there another Revolutionary?"
Dragon paused, the mug halfway to his lips again. His expression grew guarded. "Why do you ask?"
"Because if my cover is ever blown," Satoru said casually, "facing a siege from all three Admirals at once would be… a bother. I was hoping I might have an ally."
The sheer, understated arrogance of the statement—calling a three-Admiral assault a mere 'bother'—made Dragon's eyebrow twitch.
"For now," Dragon said carefully, "you are the only one at the Admiral level."
"I see. I'd thought maybe Kizaru was with us."
Dragon froze. The mug stopped completely. His eyes, shadowed by his hood, sharpened. "Why… would you think that?"
Satoru shrugged. "Just a feeling."
"That's not an answer." Dragon's voice was low, tense. Satoru had touched a nerve. If their covert outreach to Admiral Kizaru was known to Satoru, who else might know? Had their inner circle been compromised?
"Alright, fine," Satoru sighed, as if conceding. He reached up and slowly removed his sunglasses, turning to face Dragon directly.
Dragon had heard reports of the boy's unique eyes, but seeing them was different. They were an unnerving, pale blue, seeming to see far more than the surface.
"I have a… limited ability to perceive possible futures," Satoru said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "In one such glimpse, I saw myself fighting alongside Admiral Kizaru. I've never told anyone this. You're the first. You must keep this secret."
The words were outrageous. But looking into those ancient, knowing eyes, Dragon felt a strange, irrational certainty settle over him. He believed it.
"I… understand," Dragon said, his voice grave. "Your secret is safe with me." The implications were staggering. If Satoru could truly see such threads, his value was immeasurable. And if his vision was accurate… "Then it seems our… diplomatic efforts with Kizaru may bear fruit after all."
"That would be fortunate," Satoru said, replacing his sunglasses and turning back to the celebration, a small, unreadable smile on his face. The seed was planted. The idea of a shared, secret future with the seemingly lazy Admiral was now lodged in the Revolutionary leader's mind. Whether it was a true vision or a clever manipulation mattered less than the bond of a shared, dangerous secret. In the shadows where they operated, such bonds were the strongest currency of all.
(End of Chapter)
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