East Blue, somewhere at sea. A neat formation of Marine warships cut across the waves, their course set straight for Loguetown.
Leading the fleet was Garp, and as such, his dog-headed warship sailed at the front as flagship.
On its deck, Ortoren sat casually on the rail, fishing rod in hand, fully absorbed in the simple pleasure of fishing.
Not far behind him, a card table had been set up where Issho, Bogard, and Kuzan were locked in a heated game.
To Ortoren, the three of them were hopeless at cards—none of them his match. But seeing them grouped together now, he thought it made for the perfect setup.
"Come to think of it, it's been ages since I've been back to the East Blue. This gentle sea breeze... it really brings back memories. Truly worthy of being called the Sea of Peace—my homeland!"
Beside him, Garp crunched loudly on a packet of senbei, speaking as he munched away.
"Old man, don't drop those crackers into the sea—you'll ruin my fishing. And if I'm not mistaken, didn't you just get back from a vacation in East Blue before heading to South Blue? How's that supposed to count as 'a long time'?" Ortoren quipped.
Garp was the epitome of a slacker within the Marines. Unless it involved Roger or some rare major incident, he lived off the system—drawing his salary while doing next to nothing.
With his seniority and untouchable status, his Marine life was as carefree as it could get. He was practically always on leave, and whenever the mood struck, he'd return to East Blue, back to his hometown to drink and chat with old friends.
By Ortoren's estimation, the man went back to East Blue at least twice a year.
As for this so-called "Sea of Peace," it wasn't wrong. Compared to the other three seas, pirates in East Blue were generally weaker, split into extremes—either small fry or top-level bosses.
Their numbers too were far fewer than in the other seas.
In Ortoren's view, much of East Blue's current state was thanks to that old man Garp. After all, he was the only top figure in the world who spent his time "fishing" in this beginner's sea.
No wonder that any pirate who managed to leave East Blue almost always made a name for themselves.
Anyone able to escape from here was someone with exceptional resilience—survivors of the ultimate trial.
"Show some respect to this old man, you brat!" Garp glared at him.
"I'm a very practical man. I only show respect to my superiors. But right now, we're equals, Vice Admiral Garp," Ortoren replied with a smug grin.
Garp gave him a look of surprise. "You don't seriously think the Marines only promote people and never demote them, do you? Ortoren, do you think my influence isn't enough to knock you down a rank?"
Ortoren froze mid-fish, then quickly put on a flattering smile. "Garp-san, I just got my hands on some top-quality senbei imported straight from Totto Land. You know I've got connections there—the good stuff, nothing but the best. Once we're back at headquarters, I'll personally deliver some to your house. If you like it, let me know, and I'll have my second brother send me more..."
Garp nearly burst out laughing at Ortoren's lightning-fast change of attitude. Then he asked, "You still keep ties with the Charlotte family?"
"From time to time. Admiral Sengoku himself said that, even for the Marines' sake, we shouldn't cut ties with them too hastily," Ortoren replied coolly.
Of course, he was acting under orders. He had nothing to fear from an investigation—if anything went wrong, Sengoku would be the one taking the heat.
"True enough..." Garp nodded, his expression carrying a mix of complexity and nostalgia.
...
The Marines and pirates stood as enemies, yet their relationship was always tangled.
It wasn't as though they clashed every time they crossed paths. Connections, favors, and mutual exploitation were common. Using others as tools had been a timeless tactic since the beginning of history.
Sometimes, the Marines need pirates to act as their blade. And sometimes, don't pirates need the Marines to act as theirs?
It's not something that can be spoken of openly, but in the shadows, this unspoken understanding always exists. In fact, without it, you could never become a Great Pirate.
What the Marines despise most are reckless hotheads.
While Ortoren was chatting with Garp, a News Coo swooped overhead. Ortoren waved, and the bird, as if it understood, landed neatly on the railing.
He pulled a Belly from his pocket and dropped it into the bird's pouch. The News Coo let out two polite chirps before pulling a newspaper from its beak and handing it over.
Ortoren unfolded the paper. Sure enough—the front-page headline announced Roger's upcoming execution in Loguetown, East Blue.
From the choice of words and the framing of the piece, it was clearly written by the Marines' Public Relations Department. Headquarters had already begun stoking the flames for this public execution.
And all across the world, countless eyes were now turning toward this event.
...
In the New World, on Ferranx Island, Crocodile sat atop a mound of corpses piled by his men, cigar clenched between his teeth as he read the paper.
"Loguetown, huh?" Crocodile exhaled a stream of smoke, then rose to his feet and started toward the harbor.
...
In the North Blue, at the Donquixote Family stronghold, Doflamingo lounged on a windowsill. Draped in his flamboyant pink feather coat, wearing garish orange sunglasses, he kicked his legs idly in the air, every bit the picture of arrogance.
He held today's paper in one hand, and when his eyes landed on Roger's news, a sinister smile curled across his lips. For Doflamingo, the word "wicked" fit perfectly, without the slightest sense of dissonance.
"Fufufufu... another farce of 'justice prevails'? The execution of the Pirate King... now that's interesting."
His laughter low and cruel, he studied the article for a moment, then pulled out a Den Den Mushi to issue a few orders. With a flick of his fingers, nearly invisible threads shimmered into the air as he swung away.
His destination was clear: the East Blue.
...
On Whiskey Peak, near Reverse Mountain in the first half of the Grand Line, a young Dracule Mihawk sat inside a tavern. At this time, Whiskey Peak was still just a quiet island of brewers, not yet the pirate-hunter hub it would become in the chaos of the Great Pirate Era.
Mihawk had recently arrived, challenged and defeated a local swordsman, and had intended to rest briefly before moving on.
Instead, his eyes fell on the headline: the Marines were set to execute Pirate King Roger in Loguetown.
But Mihawk's gaze wasn't fixed on Roger. His sharp hawk-like eyes were drawn instead to a smaller photo—one of Ortoren.
"Already promoted to Vice Admiral at Headquarters? That man..." Mihawk murmured. For just a moment, an unusual glint of emotion flickered in his eyes.
The first and only time they had met, Ortoren had been soundly defeated by Roger and seemed to have little camaraderie with the Roger Pirates.
And now, here he was in the papers—not only capturing Roger, but preparing to stand at his public execution.
Mihawk couldn't help but feel a pang of reflection. The world truly was unpredictable.
...
In the New World, Totto Land, Whole Cake Island.
Charlotte Linlin stared at the newspaper in her hands, her gaze lingering on the photo of her "rebellious child." A faint, inexplicable smile tugged at her lips.
It was strange. In the original story, by now Charlotte Linlin should have begun her decline—her body losing shape, her temper growing increasingly violent and unstable.
But perhaps Ortoren's presence had influenced her deeply, changing her path in unexpected ways.
Though she still indulged in her twin obsessions of sweets and children, her self-discipline seemed stronger. For now, her beauty and figure remained intact, well-preserved.
And her temperament hadn't yet spiraled into erratic cruelty. She was much the same as before, even enjoying a warmer relationship with her children.
"That bastard Roger... in the end, he couldn't escape this fate. The sins he committed on Whole Cake Island—now they've been repaid by my son! Mamamama!" Linlin burst into booming laughter.
Afterward, her gaze returned to Ortoren's photo. She arched a brow.
"That brat moves fast. Already a Vice Admiral at Marine Headquarters?"
Looking at it now, his bold words back then—about black and white ruling the world together—maybe there was something to them after all.
She wondered, though... had his heart or his convictions changed since joining the Marines?