"Marine Admiral?"
Hearing Sengoku's words, even Garp—a man hardly known for being a stickler for rules—stood frozen in a daze for a long while.
Once he finally snapped out of it, Garp scratched his head and asked, "Sengoku, you're pulling my leg, right? Why on earth would Pops want an Admiral's rank?"
It defied all logic. Garp racked his brain but couldn't fathom why the old man would pull a stunt like this. To him, the only plausible explanation was that Sengoku was messing with him.
"Pulling your leg?"
Back at his desk, Sengoku had already poured himself a fresh cup of hot tea. He gently blew on the rising steam before looking at Garp with a dead-serious expression.
"The Old Man didn't just ask for the rank of Admiral. He also demanded a brand-new warship, claiming he intends to 'return to the sea' and all that."
"Return to the sea?!" Garp was genuinely startled by those words.
While Garp usually appeared carefree and simple-minded, he possessed a sharp mind and a deep understanding of the bigger picture. With Sengoku laying it out like that, how could he not guess the old man's thought process?
Just a few days ago, he had heard about the old man's heroic exploit—taking down an entire pirate crew single-handedly, including a captain worth nearly forty million Berris. After reviewing the combat footage, Sengoku had even commented that the old man's blade was still sharp; even at a hundred, he maintained the combat level of a Headquarters Rear Admiral.
Did that one fight go to his head? Does Pops really think he's back in his prime? Does he actually want to go back out there and shoulder the burden of Justice once more?
The moment that thought took hold, Garp shook his head like a rattle. "No way. Absolutely not. Pops is almost a hundred years old! He can still pull off a good burst of strength, but his stamina won't let him survive that kind of recklessness..."
"You think so too, don't you? Sigh. I honestly don't know what our mentor is thinking. Demanding an Admiral's seat... it's total nonsense," Sengoku grumbled, rubbing his temples.
If anyone else had made such a request, Sengoku would have blasted them out of his office. Promoted from Vice Admiral straight to Admiral? Go find a mirror and look at yourself.
But the person making the request was Rowan. He was the man Sengoku respected most, his guiding mentor. In Sengoku's heart, Rowan was more than a teacher; he was a father figure.
"This won't do. Once the Old Man arrives at Marineford, I have to talk some sense into him. This idea is far too dangerous. It's not something to joke about," Garp said, his face hardening. He was already mentally rehearsing how to persuade Rowan.
"No, Pops has a stubborn streak. Once he sets his mind on something, it's hard to make him turn back. I'll need to recruit Zephyr and Tsuru to help. If that's not enough, I'll even have to pull in Mr. Kong."
And so, two of the most legendary Marines in history sat in the Fleet Admiral's office, desperately plotting how to stop a hundred-year-old man from coming out of retirement.
Meanwhile. East Blue, a certain stretch of sea.
A small sailing boat drifted leisurely across the water. Reclining at the stern, Rowan was savoring the strong spirits Makino had brewed for him, occasionally adjusting the sail according to the Log Pose on his wrist.
Luffy sat cross-legged at the bow, arms folded, staring at the horizon with wide-eyed excitement. After half a day of sailing, they had finally cleared the waters of the Goa Kingdom.
The little boat continued its steady, unhurried journey.
A day later. East Blue, Shells Town.
Inside a small restaurant called Food Food.
"Hungry! So hungry! Great-Grandpa, I'm starving to death! When is the food coming?! I want meat! I want meat!"
Luffy was sprawled lifelessly across a corner table, his eyes glazed over and his tongue lolling out as he moaned piteously. Of course, there was one sound even louder than Luffy's whining: the treacherous growl of his stomach.
"Alright, alright, stop pestering. They're making it," Rowan said, a pipe between his teeth as he shook his head at the boy's state. "Just hold on a little longer. I'll make sure you eat your fill this time."
As the words left his mouth, Rowan's own stomach gave a low rumble. He let out a weary sigh.
The Garp family bloodline... their talents were monstrous, but their appetites were equally formidable. Rowan hadn't expected young Luffy to be the "blue that surpasses the indigo." The boy was only fifteen, yet he ate more than Garp had at twenty.
The dry rations Rowan had packed from Foosha Village—which he assumed would last three days—had been demolished in two meals. They had found a small, uninhabited island last night to scrounge for food, which had provided a decent feast, but that was ten hours ago. Was this level of hunger really necessary?
Luffy had turned into a literal starving ghost. The table was currently coated in the boy's drool, and the sounds from his gut were more frequent than his complaints. If Rowan hadn't held him back, Luffy would have lunged at the neighboring table to snatch their food the second they walked in. Even so, he had given the other patrons quite a fright.
"Hello, Grandpa! Here are the crispy roast duck and shredded chicken you ordered."
Before long, a cute young girl emerged from the kitchen carrying two massive platters. She worked hard to set the heavy dishes on the table and gave Rowan a bright smile. She then pulled out a stack of newspapers and handed them to him. "And here is the latest edition of the paper you asked for, Grandpa."
"Thank you, little one."
Taking the papers, Rowan gave the girl a kind nod before turning to his companion. "Hey, Luffy! Get up and eat!"
Truthfully, Rowan didn't need to say a word. Before the sentence was even finished, Luffy had snapped upright. Luckily, Rowan was fast; he pinned the boy down by the shoulder before he could do anything truly embarrassing.
"Meat! Meat! My meat!"
Starving to the point of madness, Luffy's eyes nearly shot fire at the sight of the two platters. He didn't care if the food was scalding; he dove in with both hands, eating with a ferocity that suggested he hadn't seen food in a lifetime.
Watching this, Rowan let out a long sigh of utter helplessness. He looked at the girl, who was still standing nearby. "I'm truly sorry, little one. This brat has no manners. Please, don't mind him."
Rowan then used his long pipe to give Luffy a sharp rap on the head, signaling him to show a modicum of civility. But Luffy was far beyond hearing him; he was entirely focused on his gluttonous devouring.
"It's no problem, Grandpa! Seeing him eat with such gusto is just a compliment to our cooking, isn't it?" The girl smiled, her large eyes crinkling into cute crescents.
Looking at the girl, Rowan felt a flicker of recognition, but he couldn't quite place her identity at the moment.
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