Sengoku panted, speaking each word clearly:
"The World Government is gone, but the world is still here! Countless civilians are still here!"
"Without the highest restraint, the Four Emperors, the Revolutionary Army, the underworld, and countless ambitious schemers… they'll burst out like beasts freed from their cages!"
"The Great Age of Pirates is about to enter its most chaotic, bloodiest phase!"
"Marines!"
Sengoku's gaze swept across everyone.
"Our most important task right now isn't to hunt down some 'god' we might never even find—and even if we did, couldn't possibly deal with—just for revenge!"
"It's to do everything we can to hold the rudder of justice steady in these monstrous waves, protect whoever can still be protected, maintain the bare minimum of order, and stop this world from sliding completely into an irreversible abyss of darkness!"
He took a deep breath and sank back into his chair, as if he'd spent the last of his strength.
"Summon all branch vice admirals back to Headquarters. Reassess the threat levels of every maritime power. Reinforce defenses along key sea lanes and member nations, and keep contact with any countries still willing to cooperate."
"And also."
He looked at Tsuru.
"Activate the highest-level 02 internal investigation and purge. With the World Government vanishing overnight, it's inevitable the Marines will develop different thoughts and waver. We must ensure the stability and purity of the Marines themselves."
Tsuru nodded. "Understood."
"As for that existence…"
Sengoku stared out the window. In Marineford's harbor, countless warships lay anchored, and the Gates of Justice stood tall and immovable.
"For now, it's beyond what we're capable of handling."
"But we cannot forget."
His voice was low, yet resolute.
"Record everything. Observe. Wait. The Marines need time to understand and face this new world—one filled with the unknown and with terror."
The meeting continued under a crushing atmosphere.
One emergency measure after another was proposed, debated, and issued.
This massive war machine called the Marines, having lost its highest command authority, was now relying on sheer inertia and the will of its commanders to grind its way into a turn—steering toward a completely unknown, storm-tossed, dark sea.
And far beyond Marineford's horizon, the sun bled red as it slowly sank into the ocean.
An old era, along with the dust of Mary Geoise, had finally fallen behind the curtain.
The truly turbulent, endless night had only just begun.
Every faction, like a nest that had been jolted awake, began to react according to its own logic and nature.
…
The world of the Hokage.
At Konoha's Ninja Academy, afternoon theory class always felt especially long.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, laying neat patches of light across the desks.
The instructor's voice droned on, explaining Rule Three of the shinobi code.
Most of the students were half-asleep, or secretly fiddling with shuriken under their desks.
Uzumaki Kushina sat perfectly straight, her long red hair falling behind her like a flame.
But she wasn't listening.
Her mind was stuck on that strange interface in her head—one that wouldn't go away, and that only she could "see": [Chat Group].
Ever since it appeared out of nowhere a few days ago, her life had gained an indescribable sense of absurdity.
The people in the group talked strangely. Their names were strange. The worlds they mentioned were even more unheard of.
She had even secretly asked a teacher skilled in genjutsu to check her.
"There are no signs of genjutsu, Kushina," they said with certainty. "Your mind is very stable."
So it wasn't an illusion.
Then what was it?
"Uzumaki Kushina!"
The teacher at the podium suddenly raised his voice.
Kushina snapped back to reality and found the whole class looking at her.
Most of the looks were curious—but beneath them hid a hard-to-miss distance, and a faint trace of rejection.
"Yes!"
She stood up on instinct.
"I just asked: when a shinobi on a mission encounters classified documents that can't be protected, what's the primary principle for handling them?" The teacher pushed up his glasses.
"Uh…"
Kushina froze. She hadn't heard a single word.
"Is it… to bring them back to the village as quickly as possible?"
A few muffled laughs rippled through the classroom.
"It's to destroy them completely on the spot," the teacher said, shaking his head helplessly.
"Sit down. Pay attention."
Kushina's cheeks warmed as she sat.
She could feel those eyes still stuck to her back like tiny needles.
Of course.
She sighed inwardly.
As an orphaned survivor of the Uzumaki clan who'd migrated to Konoha after the war, as a candidate to become the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki, as a "weirdo" with blazing red hair… she would always feel like an outsider here.
The dismissal bell finally rang.
Students flooded out of the classroom in a rush.
Kushina packed her things. The moment she reached the doorway, a few boys stopped her.
The one in front was named Daisuke, a small-time ringleader in their class.
"Hey, tomato."
Daisuke grinned, and the other boys laughed along with him.
Kushina frowned. She ignored him and tried to slip past.
"Don't go."
Daisuke shifted and blocked her again.
"I heard in class today you were daydreaming about becoming Hokage again?"
During her self-introduction earlier, Kushina really had said something like, "I want to become the Hokage of Konoha."
The class had gone silent for a beat—then erupted in laughter.
"Hokage? You?"
"An outsider, and you're a girl, and your hair looks like it's on fire…"
"A tomato becoming Hokage? Then Konoha would turn into Vegetable Village! Hahaha!"
The mockery seemed to echo in her ears again.
"Move."
Kushina lifted her head, her red pupils fixed on Daisuke.
"Oh wow, you're angry?"
Daisuke took a theatrical half-step back, pretending to be scared, but his grin only grew smugger.
"The Hokage's going to hit someone? So scary! Is your Hokage way beating up classmates?"
"Yeah—can't even answer a question in class, and you want to be Hokage?"
"Go dye that weird hair of yours black first!"
One harsh line after another, stabbing straight at her.
Kushina clenched her fists, nails digging into her palm.
She remembered Grandma Mito's gentle but firm words: "Kushina, in Konoha, you must endure. Prove yourself with time and actions—not with your fists."
But enduring… hurt so much.
It felt like a fire was jammed in her chest, burning until her eyes stung.
She shoved Daisuke out of the way.
Head down, she bolted out of the school building. Behind her came even louder, more reckless laughter.
"Look! The tomato's running away!"
"Go back to your tomato field!"
The setting sun stretched her shadow long—lonely, cast across the road home.
~~~
Thank you!