The moment Roger's words hit him, Garp sprang to his feet like a cannon going off.
"You've got to be kidding me, Roger!" he roared, his voice echoing through the iron corridors of the warship. "You think I'm that kind of man?! You expect me to do something like that?!"
He stormed off, fuming, the ground practically shaking beneath each step.
Ezra D. Vale blinked, watching the Marine Hero's retreating back with surprise. He hadn't expected Garp to react that strongly.
But Roger only laughed, deep and carefree as ever. "Hahahaha! Thanks, Garp!" he called after him. "That old fool's just like that he'll grumble, but he'll do it!"
Ezra sighed, shaking his head. "As long as you two are happy… whatever this is has nothing to do with me."
He turned to leave the brig, leaving Roger chuckling in the dim light.
When he reached the deck, a flash of golden light caught his attention.
"Yo, Ezra!" a lazy voice called out.
Ezra looked up to see a man in a crisp Marine coat, sunglasses gleaming in the sunlight.
"Ah. Admiral Borsalino," Ezra greeted flatly.
Borsalino adjusted his glasses, pretending to look offended. "Oi, oi, now am I really old enough to be called an uncle?"
"Well," Ezra said, expression blank, "you're older than me."
The admiral smirked. "Still as handsome as ever though, aren't I?"
"You're still older than me."
"Oi oi oi… I'm pretty charming, don't you think?"
"Still older."
Borsalino paused, expression deadpan behind his shades. "…You really don't let people off easy, do you?"
He turned toward Tsuru, who stood nearby, arms folded and trying not to smile. "Has this kid always had such a sharp tongue?"
Tsuru nodded silently.
Ezra groaned, glaring at her. "Hey, little rabbit. Maybe try being honest sometime before lightning strikes you."
That broke the tension. Tsuru let out a small laugh, while Borsalino chuckled, waving him off. After a few more jokes, Ezra excused himself and returned below deck to keep watch over Roger.
After all, the man was the Pirate King. And until he was safely delivered to Impel Down, the Navy couldn't afford a single mistake. If Roger's crew tried anything on the way back, the entire Marine reputation would be in ruins.
For now, with the ship sailing smoothly, Ezra had some quiet time to himself. He wandered toward the bow, where Garp sat cross-legged, still sulking like a scolded child.
Ezra leaned against the railing. "Still upset, old man?"
Garp didn't even look up. "You tell me, Ezra. What the hell was that supposed to mean, huh? He drops that on me like we're best friends or something! What makes him think I'd go along with it?"
Ezra smirked faintly. "Didn't you say you weren't close? Seems like he disagrees."
That earned him a glare. Garp's face flushed red, then white, then red again as he grumbled something under his breath.
Ezra chuckled and decided to ease up. "Fine, fine. Don't explode. She's safe, you know Rouge. I know where she's hiding."
Garp fell silent. The waves lapped gently against the ship's hull. After a long pause, Ezra gave him the island's location.
Neither spoke for a while after that. Garp sat quietly, lost in memories of his youth of the endless cat-and-mouse game between him and Roger, of all their clashes that ended in laughter and bruises.
Ezra didn't interrupt. Instead, he turned inward.
System, he thought silently, is the mission complete?
The familiar voice rang in his mind.
[Temporary Mission Completed!]
[Objective: Engage in Battle with Whitebeard!]
[Instant Victory: +1% Inheritance Progress]
[Even Match: +10% Inheritance Progress]
[Defeat Whitebeard: +20% Inheritance Progress]
[Current Result: Draw +10% Inheritance Progress!]
[Upgrade Now? Yes / No]
Ezra frowned slightly. A draw, huh?
Because Roger interrupted the battle, the system had ruled that the fight between him and Whitebeard ended in a stalemate. No winner, no loser.
Still, ten percent wasn't bad. His strength would rise significantly once he integrated it.
"Not yet," he decided aloud. "I'll deal with it later."
The system's interface faded from his vision, and his mood lightened a little.
Just then, a strange sound broke the quiet.
Buru buru buru!
His Den Den Mushi wriggled to life. Ezra flipped it open lazily.
"Ezra! What's the situation? Are you all safe?"
The voice was so loud he nearly dropped the receiver.
"Oh, hey, Admiral Sengoku," Ezra said with a grin. "Mission complete. Roger's in custody."
There was a stunned silence on the other end then a shout of disbelief.
"Ezra, you're not joking, are you?!"
"If I were joking, I'd already be dead from your temper, wouldn't I?"
"You—! I—!" Sengoku sputtered. "Do you have any idea what this means?!"
Ezra yawned and stretched. "Calm down, old man. You're going to pop a vein."
"Old—?! I'm not—!" Sengoku's voice cracked with excitement and irritation.
Tsuru, watching nearby, sighed. Ezra grinned and tossed her the Den Den Mushi. "Here, you deal with him. I'm taking a nap."
"Ezra!" she scolded, but he was already lying back on the deck, hands behind his head, letting the sea breeze wash over him.
Tsuru brought the snail closer and began calmly explaining the situation. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku, here's what happened…"
She detailed everything from Ezra's clash with Marco, his duel with Whitebeard, and finally Roger's sudden surrender.
By the time she finished, Sengoku was silent again this time out of sheer astonishment.
That kid… he thought. Every time he moves, the world shifts a little more.
Tsuru added gently, "Fleet Admiral, Ezra didn't mean to upset you earlier. He's just… like that. Please don't take it personally."
Her tone was soft, sincere.
On the other end, Sengoku froze mid-sentence. Was Vice Admiral Tsuru the famously composed and icy strategist actually defending someone like that?
There was definitely something going on here.
"Ahem," Sengoku coughed awkwardly. "Understood, Tsuru. We'll… talk later."
Click.
He hung up immediately.
In his office at Marineford, Sengoku leaned back in his chair, face caught somewhere between disbelief and embarrassment.
Across from him, Vice Admiral Tsuru the elder one, not the younger officer on the ship raised an eyebrow so high it could cut steel. A giant, throbbing vein appeared on her forehead.
"So," she said slowly, "you sent them on a mission… and now you're telling me the young Tsuru is calling that man by his first name?"
Sengoku coughed again, desperately looking anywhere else. "Now, now, it's not like that! They're both adults. And besides, she's not exactly young anymore, right?"
Tsuru sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Forget it. Just focus on the mission report."
She turned serious again, her voice crisp. "We need to make immediate preparations for Roger's transfer to Impel Down. No mistakes, Sengoku. Not even one."
Sengoku nodded, face finally hardening with authority. "Agreed. This isn't just any prisoner. This is Gol D. Roger the Pirate King himself. Every guard, every admiral, every ship on full alert. We'll make sure he reaches Impel Down safely."
The old strategist and the Fleet Admiral exchanged a grim look.
Outside, the sea winds howled over Marineford, and somewhere far away, the waves carried the Pirate King toward his final destination.
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