As the tides of power in the Grand Line shifted without pause, Momonga's battleship glided steadily toward Marine Headquarters.
The ship flew two flags—the proud Seagull of Justice and the deep-blue standard of the North Blue—its polished hull reflecting sunlight as it entered the vast, oval-shaped military harbor. At once, murmurs rippled through the crowds of Marines and civilians gathered along the docks.
"That's a North Blue battleship!"
"Then that must be their new Supreme Commander—Momonga!"
"I've heard the North Blue Marines have become incredibly strict…"
"You've got no idea," someone whispered knowingly. "Back when Vice Admiral Darren took command, he rebuilt the entire North Blue from the ground up—tightened discipline, overhauled training, invested everything into the new recruits..."
"These days, their elite units could rival many Grand Line branches!"
"Seriously? The aura they give off feels on par with Headquarters' own troops!"
"Vice Admiral Darren isn't just strong—he's brilliant. A born leader and a relentless instructor. Some even call him a once-in-a-century genius of the Marines!"
"No wonder even the legendary Golden Lion Shiki fell to him…"
Admiration and awe filled the air as eyes turned toward the warship. The Marines standing in formation upon the deck moved with perfect synchronization, their gazes sharp, their presence radiating cold steel and discipline. There was no mistaking it—this was a pack of wolves, not mere soldiers.
At the bow stood Momonga himself, arms folded across his chest, his sharp eyes fixed on the sprawling fortress rising in the distance—Marineford, the very heart of Justice.
"So this is Marine Headquarters…"
For the first time in his life, Momonga beheld the fabled Holy Land of the Marines—the pinnacle every officer aspired to reach. The mere name Marineford carried a weight that stirred both pride and reverence. To serve here was the highest honor a Marine could dream of.
Yet, he hadn't come to receive a promotion. He had come to report.
Vice Admiral Darren still lay in a deep coma after the battle that had shaken the seas. He'd been transferred to the most advanced medical wing at Headquarters, where the best doctors tended to him around the clock.
But the world would not wait for Darren to awaken. The truth of that battle had to be laid bare—and Admiral Sengoku himself had summoned Momonga to deliver it.
It was a delicate mission.
According to Darren's prior instructions, the full strength of the North Blue Fleet was not to be exposed. That was why Momonga had arrived in a standard warship rather than one of their specialized dreadnoughts.
And under no circumstance could Darren's secret dealings with Doflamingo come to light.
Momonga had spent countless sleepless nights crafting a plausible version of events. Even so, deceiving someone like Sengoku—the brilliant "Master Strategist" of the Marines—was no small feat.
In truth, the man who truly unnerved him was not Sengoku, but the Fleet Admiral above him—the iron-willed "Steel Bone" Kong, who had ruled the Marines for decades.
As that thought crossed his mind, Momonga drew in a slow, steadying breath, his hand tightening into a fist.
To the watching eyes of the Marines and civilians around him—curious, respectful, even reverent—he must have seemed composed and unflinching. Yet to Momonga, their gazes felt like the eyes of beasts circling prey.
This mission, he realized, was like walking a blade's edge.
"Everyone else, remain aboard," he ordered evenly.
"Yes, Supreme Commander Momonga!"
Hundreds of voices responded as one.
Momonga stepped off the gangplank and onto the stone dock just as a familiar voice called out from beyond the crowd.
"Captain Momonga!"
The Marine guards instinctively shifted aside, parting to reveal a tall woman with a confident stride and sharp, graceful features.
A faint smile touched Momonga's lips. "Commodore Gion. It's been a long time."
It was indeed her—Gion, radiant as ever in her crisp uniform, carrying herself with quiet strength.
"Long time no see, Momonga," she greeted warmly, extending her hand. "Thank you for coming all the way from the North Blue."
He clasped her hand and chuckled. "It's nothing. All for the sake of justice." Then, with a note of genuine admiration, he added, "And congratulations on your promotion. Commodore already—Headquarters must think highly of you."
He still remembered when Gion and Tokikake had come to the North Blue as inspection officers under Darren. Back then, they'd all been Lieutenant Commanders of equal rank. In less than two years, she had soared through the hierarchy, earning three promotions to become a Headquarters Commodore—while he, buried under endless duties, diplomacy, and training back home, had only just reached Captain.
And Darren… Darren had climbed all the way to Vice Admiral, with rumors of another promotion on the horizon. His rise was monstrous in speed and certainty.
But Gion simply shook her head. "Compared to your responsibilities as Supreme Commander, my title means very little," she said softly, a trace of humility in her voice.
For a moment, Momonga was taken aback. He could sense the sincerity in her words—and the growth.
She had changed.
After everything she'd witnessed—the North Blue Celestial Dragon incident, the corruption, the compromises—she had shed her naïve idealism. Now she understood what Darren and Momonga had carried on their shoulders: that leadership sometimes meant bearing sins for the sake of peace.
Momonga smiled faintly. "Let's go. Admiral Sengoku's probably been waiting long enough."
"Right," she said, nodding.
As they walked together toward the Fleet Admiral's office, their conversation turned light—shared memories, old jokes, the kind of talk that eased the tension coiled in his chest. After all they'd been through, their bond had long surpassed that of mere colleagues.
Then, as they reached the foot of the grand staircase, Gion suddenly stopped.
"Captain Momonga," she asked quietly, almost hesitantly, "when Darren goes back to the North Blue… does he ever mention me?"
Momonga froze.
Her eyes—bright, uncertain, full of hope—met his.
He sighed inwardly. Ah. So Darren's already stolen her heart.
But Momonga was no longer the gullible officer he once was. Years in the North Blue had taught him the art of diplomacy—and survival.
He straightened, face solemn. "Of course," he said firmly.
"Really?" she asked, her expression softening.
She believed him without question. To her, Momonga was earnest and dependable—a man incapable of lying.
"He told me," Momonga continued, lowering his voice with practiced gravitas, "that his time with you was the happiest he's ever known. When I first heard it, I thought he'd gone mad."
He sighed again, playing the part of the loyal friend perfectly. "I've known him for years, and I've never seen him so… affected."
Gion's cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. She bit her lip, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you… Captain Momonga."
Momonga's eye twitched. Watching her shy, radiant smile, he suddenly felt an unexpected pang of guilt twist in his chest.
To be continued...