Watching the group argue over the menu, Nami rolled her eyes from the corner and gripped her staff tight.
Even now, after leaving Cocoyashi behind, the image of Nojiko standing on the shore with her arms folded still lingered stubbornly in her mind.
Freedom had only just returned to the village, and part of her still felt she should have stayed a little longer instead of ending up on this absurd ship.
"Are their nerves made of steel?" she muttered under her breath, the shock of the recent battle still echoing in her mind.
"That's the composure of the strong, Nami."
Carina had somehow sidled up beside her, her fox-like eyes gleaming with sharp calculation.
Watching Zaraki chat and laugh with Zeff, the thief curled her lips into a meaningful smile.
"Sticking with a guy like him is the best way to survive on these seas. What do you think? This is a golden opportunity. We hold on tight, and we can strut through the East Blue without a care in the world."
A sudden shout suddenly exploded like a thunderclap across the restaurant hall.
"I've decided! I'm getting on that ship!"
The loud voice belonged to neither Zaraki nor Ace.
Everyone turned to see a wounded pirate wrapped in soggy bandages who had somehow crawled out of the sea.
He pointed at Krieg's battered flagship in the distance, his eyes gleaming with raw greed and madness.
Krieg's downfall just handed ambitious scavengers the perfect chance to take his place.
Zaraki didn't even bother turning his head.
He just picked up a glass of ice water from the table and gave it a lazy swirl, knowing a minor disturbance like this didn't require his attention.
His Kenbunshoku Haki had already picked up the faint scrape of leather shoes on the floorboards and the rising anger building inside the blond, curly-browed chef—a true knight's fury.
Before the clueless pirate could take a single step, a black whirlwind swept out from the kitchen entrance.
"Collier!"
That kick moved so fast it left blurry afterimages in the air.
Before the lackey trying to take advantage of the chaos could even react, the tip of a black leather shoe struck hard against the side of his neck.
With a crisp crack of dislocating bone, the unlucky thug didn't even get the chance to scream before he was sent flying sideways, crashing into the seawater dozens of meters away.
"In this restaurant, no one is allowed to be rude in front of ladies without my permission."
The blond, curly-browed cook retracted his leg, pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket, and wiped his spotless leather shoe.
He seemed unfazed by the heavy atmosphere left by the lingering Haoshoku Haki.
His visible eye transformed into a giant pink heart as he wriggled and slid right over to Nami and Carina.
"Oh! Miracles of the sea! This is a fateful encounter!"
Sanji dropped to one knee, producing a red rose from thin air and offering it to the bewildered Nami and an amused Carina.
"To find two beautiful ladies in such a crude battlefield! The ragtag group full of smelly men isn't worthy of you. Why not let me accompany you both to—"
Thud! A heavy impact cut Sanji's confession short.
A hardwood peg leg kicked him right in the back of the head, the raw force planting him face-first into the sturdy teak deck and leaving a noticeable dent in the wood.
"Damn eggplant! Who gave you permission to leave your post!" Zeff retracted his peg leg, his golden braided mustaches twitching with anger. "We still have meals to cook for hundreds of people! Do you want to starve the customers? Get back to the kitchen and peel potatoes!"
"You damn old geezer!"
Sanji yanked his head out of the floorboards, a large bump swelling on his forehead as he turned and grabbed Zeff's tall chef hat.
"You menopausal old bastard! Can't you see I'm performing sacred knightly etiquette? I'm sick of this place full of grease fumes and stinky sweat! I'm gonna go with the beautiful ladies! I want to search for the All Blue and protect these two beautiful ladies along the way!"
"Want to leave? First pay off your debt for all the plates you broke! You couldn't repay it in a hundred years!"
"Then I'll tear down this crappy restaurant to settle the debt!"
The two cooks, old and young, instantly started brawling.
Their punches and kicks rang out sharper than the earlier pirate fight.
They lacked any refined master stances, relying on dirty street-fighting moves like hair-pulling and toe-stomping, yet every single strike made the deck groan under the strain.
Zaraki sat at an outdoor dining table nearby, holding a massive piece of freshly grilled meat on the bone.
He tore off a huge bite, watching the farce unfold.
"So lively," he mumbled through a mouthful of food, casually crunching down on a piece of thick cartilage.
The lingering emptiness from releasing his Haoshoku Haki faded fast as he packed away the calories.
This noisy atmosphere full of daily life—arguments over grand dreams and scuffles over unpaid wages—let his tense nerves finally relax, giving him a real, tangible sense of being alive.
...
Meanwhile, in the first half of the Grand Line, at Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
The air here held none of the salty fish and grilled meat aromas of the East Blue. Deep inside the towering fortress, the rooms carried the solemn, dry scent of ink and paperwork.
Inside the massive round-table conference room, the atmosphere sat tight and heavy.
"I say... Fleet Admiral Sengoku, is it really necessary to hold meetings of this level three times a month?"
A lazy voice broke the silence.
Borsalino—Kizaru—clad in his yellow-striped suit, clipped his nails and complained with a wry smile.
"New faces keep popping up on the sea lately, but there's no need to keep us working overtime like this, right? My tea already went cold. How terrifying, this workload."
"Shut up, Borsalino."
Sitting opposite him, Sakazuki—Akainu—kept his cap pulled low, his deep voice carrying a rigid firmness.
"Justice gets no days off. As long as scum sails the sea, the Marines have zero reason to slack off."
Between the two of them, Kuzan—Aokiji—had his sleep mask pulled down and let out soft snores, already fast asleep in his chair.
At the head of the table, Fleet Admiral Sengoku felt a sharp throb in his temples.
He grabbed a handful of rice crackers and shoved them into his mouth, chewing hard.
The white goat standing beside him took the opening to snatch a classified document off the table and chew on it with joy.
"All of you, take this seriously!" Sengoku slammed his palm on the table, the sudden noise causing Aokiji's sleep mask to slip halfway down his face.
He took a deep breath, yanked a freshly printed bounty poster from a thick stack of files, and tossed it onto the center of the round table.
"I called you all here today because something happened in the East Blue."
Every gaze in the room locked onto the poster.
The image showed a black-haired kid wearing an orange cowboy hat, smiling bright and wide.
"Portgas D. Ace, alias Fire Fist." Sengoku's voice stayed steady and heavy. "Given the destruction he caused in the East Blue and the scale of the disturbances linked to him, the Intelligence Division assessed the threat and an initial bounty of fifty million Beli already released."
"Fifty million?" Sitting at the outer edge of the table, Vice Admiral Onigumo frowned and exhaled a thick cloud of cigar smoke.
"Fleet Admiral, isn't this rushing things? The average bounty out in the East Blue hovers around three million. Slapping such a high price on a rookie will just embolden the pirates."
Vice Admiral Momousagi nodded in agreement with a slight smile. "He makes a point. For the sake of deterrence, thirty million is the usual ceiling. Fifty million pushes him into the ranks of seasoned veterans sailing the first half of the Grand Line."
Mutters of confusion echoed around the conference room as the officers questioned the high number.
"If he was just an ordinary troublemaker, he wouldn't be worth the price." Sengoku adjusted his round glasses, a cold glare flashing across the lenses. "But intelligence confirms this Ace is a user of the Logia-type Mera Mera no Mi."
The noisy room fell dead silent.
Even Kizaru paused his nail clippers for a second.
His droopy eyes opened a fraction, an amused tone slipping into his voice. "Oh, a Logia. That explains it. Out in the Four Seas, where most people have never even heard of Haki, a power like that is basically invincible."
A Logia.
Out in the Four Seas, that word meant a walking natural disaster.
"A rookie wielding a highly destructive Logia Devil Fruit will become a massive problem the second he enters the Grand Line and gets a chance to grow." Sengoku swept his stern gaze over the room.
"We need to nip him in the bud before he spreads his wings, or... we recruit him into the Shichibukai."
Akainu let out a cold snort at the mention of recruitment, his disdain for the Warlord system bleeding through.
Sengoku ignored the Admiral and tapped the table to issue his orders. "Sakazuki, keep a close eye on the Beast Pirates' recent movements in the New World. That madman Kaido is plotting something again."
"Understood." Akainu adjusted his cap.
"Borsalino, the Celestial Dragons up in Mary Geoise are complaining about weak security. Go make an appearance and keep them quiet."
"Ah, another troublesome assignment." Kizaru pursed his lips with a reluctant sigh.
"As for Kuzan..." Sengoku shot a look at Aokiji, who was busy rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "The Shichibukai ranks are full, but Crocodile is making frequent moves in Alabasta. Go confirm the situation."
"Yeah, got it." Aokiji yawned and pulled his sleep mask right back down.
Sengoku finished handing out the assignments but didn't dismiss the meeting.
Instead, he pulled a top-secret file from his drawer.
His fingers brushed the cover, his face looking even more serious than when they discussed the fifty-million-Beli rookie.
"We have one last matter, and it forms the core of today's meeting." Sengoku lowered his voice.
"Given the turbulent shifts in the New World and our current shortage of top-tier combatants, the World Government approved a new initiative. Headquarters will begin a fresh selection process for an Admiral Candidate."
The air in the room froze solid.
An Admiral Candidate.
These were the direct reserves for the Marines' highest military force, the true pinnacle of power.
Right now, only two candidates existed—Momousagi and Chaton—both absolute monsters who had served as Vice Admirals for over a decade.
Now Headquarters wanted to add a third?
"Why so sudden?" Vice Admiral Onigumo asked, his brow furrowed. "Are we promoting from the current roster of senior Vice Admirals?"
The officers around the table traded quick, measuring glances.
"No." Sengoku shook his head, wearing a complicated look that mixed heavy trouble with a sliver of anticipation.
"The nominee doesn't come from the Headquarters Vice Admiral roster. He doesn't even come from the Grand Line."
He opened the file and slid a personnel sheet with an attached photo to the center of the table.
The picture showed a black-haired kid with dead-fish eyes looking lazy and unfocused, dressed plainly enough that he looked more like a half-trained troublemaker than someone who belonged in a top-secret personnel file.
"Vice Admiral Garp made the recommendation. He claims this young man holds the potential to end the Great Pirate Era." Sengoku paused, letting his gaze sweep over the shocked faces around the table before dropping the name.
"Zaraki."
The name hung in the quiet room, carrying a heavy, uneasy weight.
Sengoku tapped the personnel file. "Current Status: Under Vice Admiral Garp's recommendation. Position... Marine trainee."
Boom!
The room exploded.
If Ace's fifty-million bounty felt rushed, this proposal sounded like a flat-out insulting joke to every battle-hardened officer sitting at the table.
"What an absolute joke!"
Vice Admiral Momonga slammed the table and shot to his feet. His hair shook with anger, and he nearly bit his cigar in half.
"Fleet Admiral! The position of an Admiral Candidate holds critical weight! You want to give it to a Marine trainee from the East Blue?! This isn't just skipping the chain of command, it's a direct insult to the rank of every officer in this room!"
Vice Admiral Doberman stayed seated, but his scarred face looked terrifyingly grim. He tapped his knuckles against the wood.
"Fleet Admiral, if this is a joke, it's in poor taste. The East Blue? The 'strongest' fighters from that weak sea wouldn't even qualify as basic foot soldiers in the New World."
Angry doubts and loud objections flooded the room.
A nobody kid who had never stepped foot in the Grand Line and held zero major combat achievements had no right to jump to the top of the food chain in a single bound.
"That old bastard Garp..."
Admiral Akainu slowly lifted his head.
Beneath his Marine cap, his eyes burned with a ferocious, magma-hot glare.
He didn't even bother looking at the file, fixing a chilling stare right on Sengoku.
"Has he lost his mind? Does he think the selection of our highest military force is child's play? If he wants to secure an easy job for some relative, toss him in the logistics department. How dare he mock the highest threshold of Justice?"
The crushing pressure flooding off Akainu made the surrounding Vice Admirals hold their breath.
The Admiral was radiating true fury, the sheer heat of his presence evaporating the moisture in the air.
Only Kizaru ignored the tension.
Tilting his head, he picked up the file and squinted at the photo under the overhead lights.
"Ooh, what a scary look, Sakazuki." Kizaru's lazy drawl cut right through the heavy atmosphere.
He tapped the photo of the harmless-looking teenager with a playful smirk.
"Garp-san always acts unreliable, but I don't recall him ever making a mistake on matters this important. For him to claim someone will 'end an era'... I wonder if this young man hides a terrifying secret?"
"Secret?" Akainu scoffed. His right arm shifted into boiling magma, billowing thick black smoke and the sharp smell of sulfur.
"The only secret here is that a peaceful playground like the East Blue breeds nothing but arrogant, ungrateful fools!"
"Quiet, all of you!"
Sengoku slammed the table again, his heavy palm making the solid wood shudder.
A faint wave of Haoshoku Haki leaked from him, forcefully crushing the noise in the room and capping Akainu's rising fury.
Sengoku rubbed his temples, feeling a familiar stress ache brewing in his gut.
When Garp first dropped this proposal on his desk, Sengoku's reaction had been even more explosive than Akainu's.
But then Garp showed him the proof.
"I know this sounds insane." Sengoku took a deep breath, his gaze turning deadly serious. "If anyone else made this recommendation, I'd have shredded the file on the spot. But alongside this form, Garp submitted a medical assessment report, and a combat recording from the East Blue."
"A recording?" Aokiji pushed up his sleep mask, a spark of interest breaking through his drowsy eyes.
"What reference value does combat footage from the East Blue have? Did the kid capture some pirate with a thirty-million bounty?"
Sengoku didn't answer.
He stood up and walked over to the projection Den Den Mushi sitting in the corner of the room.
His finger hovered over the play button for two seconds, giving his officers one last moment to brace themselves.
"No, this isn't about capturing pirates."
Sengoku pressed the button.
A beam of light hit the massive white screen on the wall. The image shook, adjusted focus, and settled on a ruined, chaotic training ground.
"This is the raw destruction he caused using zero Devil Fruit powers and Haki. This is pure, raw physical strength."
As the footage played out, the smug disdain wiped right off Momonga's face.
Doberman's grim glare shattered.
Even Akainu's boiling fury froze solid.
The only sound left in the massive conference room was the low hum of the projector and the heavy, disbelieving breaths of the highest-ranking officers in the Marines.
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