The sound of boots striking wood echoed steadily.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku and Rear Admiral Renn Hawk walked side by side along the docks of the G-3 Branch. The sea breeze tugged at Sengoku's immaculate white coat, its edges snapping sharply with each gust.
His eyes swept across the ranks of Marines lined up with flawless precision. For a brief moment, the hardened Fleet Admiral allowed himself an inward smile.
The aura here the discipline, the sheer killing intent radiating from the men was impressive.
Yes.
This boy Hawk truly was born to command.
Sengoku knew exactly how complex the composition of G-3's forces was. There were the old veterans of the branch, the elite officers Smoker and Tashigi had brought from Marine Headquarters, and Hawk's own loyal subordinates carried over from the East Blue. Three groups, each with their own pride, their own habits, their own weight of tradition.
Any ordinary commander would have needed months, maybe years, to mold such a unit into one cohesive force.
Yet Hawk had done it in a fraction of the time. He had fused them together into a single ironclad wall.
A prodigy. A leader in the making.
Behind them, a few paces back, stood Vice Admiral Tsuru. Her sharp, perceptive eyes drifted over Hibari and her own granddaughter Kujaku. Both young women had changed. Their former softness was gone, replaced with the tempered sharpness of warriors forged by real battle.
Tsuru's expression softened, just slightly. Yes. Sending them to Hawk had been the right decision.
"Renn Hawk."
It was Sengoku who broke the silence first. His voice was calm, yet carried authority. "You caused quite the storm at Mock Town."
"Fleet Admiral, I was only fulfilling my duty."
Sengoku chuckled, deep and resonant. "Hah! Duty, you say? Well said."
He folded his arms, gaze shifting back to the horizon. "Do you know why places like Mock Town are allowed to exist in the first place?"
Hawk remained silent, so Sengoku continued on his own.
"That cesspool is a pit of filth, a den of every vice imaginable. And yet, to certain people within the World Government, it serves a purpose. It acts as a kind of pressure valve."
"The Grand Line's first half is crawling with pirates, too many to easily control. Better to let them gather in one place, indulging in their chaos, than to have them spread their trouble everywhere else."
"That is why Mock Town existed with the tacit approval of many powerful figures."
Sengoku glanced sideways at Hawk, his lips curling into a wry smile. "And then you went and wiped it off the map. You've embarrassed quite a few important people."
His words hung for a heartbeat before his expression broke into bold laughter. "But so what? Embarrassed or not, it's done! Wiped clean!"
"Let them complain. I'll shoulder every ounce of pressure from above. Not a single word of it needs to trouble you."
His gaze hardened, burning with conviction as he fixed it squarely on Hawk.
"Sakazuki has already briefed me on your plan. One year. Within one year, you aim to cleanse all of Paradise of pirates."
"Hawk, unleash yourself. Strike with everything you have. The Marine Headquarters will stand as your firmest shield."
"Yes, Fleet Admiral!"
Hawk's reply was sharp, his eyes steady. Inside, he understood perfectly.
This was why he had called Sengoku here before consolidating his victories.
The high command of the Marines was placing their hopes for the future on him. Their expectation was clear: to shift the balance of the seas.
And his responsibility was to repay that trust in full.
Their footsteps carried them into the mess hall. Hawk motioned politely with one arm.
"Fleet Admiral, Vice Admiral Tsuru. Please. After such a long journey, let us share a simple meal first."
The three sat together. Soon, the hall filled with the aroma of warm food and clinking cups. By the end, Sengoku leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach with evident satisfaction. He let out a hearty burp, chuckling as he lifted his teacup and blew gently across the steaming surface.
"Well then, Hawk."
His tone shifted, the weight of command sliding back into his voice.
"You've turned G-3 into a fortress of iron. The soldiers are spirited, logistics are strong, discipline is impeccable. A model branch for the Navy."
"But tell me, boy surely you didn't summon me all the way here just to show off and feed me a meal?"
Tsuru set her cup down quietly and nodded once. She agreed. Hawk wasn't the sort of man to waste time on hollow gestures. He had brought them here for something greater.
"You are correct, Fleet Admiral."
Hawk rose to his feet, his voice steady, his presence filling the hall.
"I have prepared a gift for the Navy. One of great significance."
"Oh?" Sengoku's eyes glinted with curiosity. Tsuru's expression sharpened as well.
"A gift, you say?"
"Lead the way, then."
"Yes, sir."
Hawk led them through a series of checkpoints, each one tightly guarded, until they arrived before an enormous steel door. Painted across the surface in bold crimson letters was a single designation:
Secret Warehouse No. 1.
"Fleet Admiral. Vice Admiral." Hawk gestured.
The guards strained against the mechanisms, and with a groaning creak the door began to swing open.
At first, only a sliver of golden light escaped through the crack. Yet even that sliver was so piercing that Sengoku and Tsuru instinctively narrowed their eyes.
"What is this…" Sengoku murmured.
The door yawned wider, and the interior was revealed.
And in that instant, time itself seemed to stop.
The air grew heavy, silence thick and absolute.
It was not mere light.
It was the glow of unimaginable wealth.
For once, Sengoku "The Buddha," the man who had commanded the Navy for decades, who had weathered every storm stood frozen, his face locked in disbelief. His signature round spectacles nearly slid right off the bridge of his nose.
What did he see?
Mountains.
Mountains sculpted from gold.
Coins piled like golden sand dunes. Bars stacked neatly like bricks, forming towering walls. Farther back, countless golden artifacts of every shape and size shimmered with opulent brilliance.
Sengoku's mind went blank for a beat, then roared back into motion at a frantic pace.
This treasure…
Billions. Tens of billions of berries' worth, perhaps more.
With this fortune, what could the Navy accomplish?
How many cutting-edge warships could be built?
How many soldiers could be outfitted with the finest equipment?
How greatly could pay and benefits for every Marine be improved?
And beyond even that…
Thump-thump-thump.
Sengoku's heart pounded violently in his chest.
This wealth could loosen the shackles of dependence on the World Government's treasury.
It could pave the way for a Navy no longer bound, no longer constrained.
Not just wealth. Not just gold.
This was power.
This was freedom.
This was justice itself.
His foot stepped forward unconsciously, stumbling slightly as if the sheer weight of what he saw had robbed him of balance. Tsuru, composed even amidst her own shock, moved smoothly to steady him.
Her eyes, though wide, held clarity. If Hawk had brought them here, then these riches were not meant to be hidden. He intended to offer them to the Navy.
She kept silent, watching Hawk closely.
"Hawk…" Sengoku's voice cracked, his throat dry as parchment. He forced down a swallow. "This… what in the world is this?"
"Fleet Admiral. Vice Admiral."
Hawk extended his hand toward the golden mountains, his face calm, almost solemn.
"This," he said, his voice resonant, "is merely the appetizer."
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