"Gern!"
The moment Gern's words faded into silence, a lively figure burst out from behind him like a bounding rabbit—
No.
Not like a rabbit.
It was a rabbit.
"Gern~ Gern~!"
Accompanied by that bright, chiming voice, Lipo leapt lightly into the air and landed squarely on Gern Reginald Sigmar's broad back. Her slender arms slipped around his neck with practiced familiarity, clinging to him like a spoiled little cat. She rubbed her cheek insistently against the back of his neck and the short strands of his hair, her tone soft and syrupy with complaint.
"Next time you go out, you have to take Lipo with you! No more sneaking off without me!"
The warmth and ticklish softness at his neck made Gern's expression melt instantly into helpless affection. Tilting his head slightly, he gently brushed his cheek against her arm in return, his voice indulgent.
"What's wrong? Weren't you the one who said you preferred going to Amazon Lily with Snake Princess?"
It was true. Recently, Toritoma had been returning to Amazon Lily far more frequently.
Officially, she claimed it was to guide the current Empress, Hancock.
But both Gern and Lipo understood.
More than anything, she was seeking comfort—mourning her late sister, the previous Empress, Tori Toma—finding solace in the land filled with memories of sisterhood.
"It's not fun anymore~"
Lipo pouted and slid down from Gern's back, landing in front of him. Her small face twisted with conflicted frustration.
"Even though everyone on Amazon Lily is a girl and they're all really nice to Lipo, but… but…"
Suddenly, she puffed out her modest chest and clenched her fists, striking a pose that screamed I am mature now!, her tone rising proudly as she declared:
"Lipo is a grown woman now!!"
"They're always crowding around me, asking weird questions!
Like at night, when Snake Princess, you, and I all play stacked games together—"
"Mmgh!"
Before she could finish her dangerously uninhibited words, Gern's hand shot out and covered her mouth in one swift motion.
"Cough! Cough—!"
To the side, Dracule Mihawk—who had originally intended to stay entirely uninvolved—suddenly coughed heavily.
The eternal ice on the world's greatest swordsman's face cracked ever so slightly, revealing rare, unmistakable awkwardness.
He turned half his body away with mechanical stiffness, pretending to admire the horizon, as if the flight trajectory of distant seagulls had become the most fascinating phenomenon in existence.
Gern felt Lipo's muffled protests vibrating against his palm, while out of the corner of his eye he caught Mihawk's obvious attempt at escape.
He could only sigh.
"You cannot say that to other people."
"Can't say it?" Lipo blinked innocently.
But I already drew all of Gern's 'moves' into illustrated booklets back on Amazon Lily…
Just then, Perona floated out from the kitchen area, carrying a plate of exquisitely arranged desserts.
She happened to catch Mihawk stiffly gazing skyward while Gern covered Lipo's mouth. The atmosphere was… questionable.
"Oh ho~?"
Perona's eyes gleamed as if she'd just stumbled onto state secrets. She floated closer, curiosity brimming in her voice.
"Oi, Mihawk, what were you all talking about just now?
What are that little bunny and Gern scheming? Something fun you didn't invite me to?"
She pointed her fork toward Gern and Lipo, her expression practically screaming, Tell me everything.
Mihawk stiffened.
He absolutely could not repeat Lipo's earlier remarks about "stacked games."
Under Perona's probing stare, the world's greatest swordsman calmly withdrew his gaze from the heavens, glanced at her once, and delivered—in his deep, low voice—a concise, universal answer that was technically not entirely false.
"Family game."
"…Huh???"
Perona's pretty eyes widened dramatically. Her gaze bounced between Gern, the still-struggling Lipo beneath his hand, and Mihawk's carefully detached expression.
"A family game? What kind of family game needs someone's mouth covered? And why does Mihawk look like he doesn't dare watch?"
As Perona blinked repeatedly, clearly attempting to decode the deeper meaning behind family game, and trying to extract further gossip from Mihawk's glacier-like face—
"Admiral Gern! Something's happened!!"
A hurried shout rang out from a window in the nearby administrative building.
Tesoro leaned halfway out, urgency etched across his features. He didn't even bother with the stairs. With one hand bracing the window frame, he vaulted cleanly from the upper floor, landing with athletic precision before sprinting toward Gern.
Breathing slightly hard, he handed over a document stamped with the highest Marine classification seal.
Gern's brows knit faintly as he accepted it. He made no effort to conceal its contents from Mihawk, Lipo, or Perona.
Everyone present was someone he trusted with his back.
He unfolded the file swiftly.
The contents were concise:
Confirmation that "Fire Fist" Portgas D. Ace had been captured and imprisoned in Impel Down.
His true identity — bloodline of the Pirate King — had been obtained by the World Government.
A public execution was intended.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku urgently summoned Gern to Marineford to discuss countermeasures.
Gern closed the file slowly.
There was no hesitation in his voice when he spoke.
"Who is currently unassigned?"
Tesoro answered immediately, clearly prepared.
"On standby without urgent missions: Lipo, and Bullet."
"Notify Bullet," Gern ordered, crisp and direct. "You, Lipo, and I are heading to Marineford."
"Understood!" Tesoro nodded sharply and moved to relay the order.
With the accompanying personnel arranged, Gern turned toward Mihawk, who had observed everything in silence.
No explanation was necessary.
Mihawk already understood.
"While I'm gone, I'll entrust G-10's security to you," Gern said gravely.
Mihawk inclined his head slightly in acceptance.
G-10 was not a pirate crew that could abandon its base entirely.
As the Marines' strongest fortress in the New World, it was under constant threat from the Four Emperors and other great pirates.
If its core combat power were absent, opportunists would inevitably seize the chance to strike, hoping to rip out this nail embedded in the sea.
Aside from the world-shaking Holy Land Incident years ago, Gern's forces had almost never allowed all top-tier combatants to leave their stronghold simultaneously.
There must always be a powerhouse of equal caliber stationed behind.
Only strength deters wolves.
With arrangements complete, Gern shrugged on his Justice coat — black-trimmed cuffs, the word "Calamity" embroidered upon the shoulder.
He swept his gaze across them all.
The sea breeze shifted, sharper now.
"The wind," he murmured softly, "has turned cold."
..
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