For more than a month after taking over as Base Commander of G-5, Ortoren had been busy cleaning up the mess. Just as he expected, the moment word spread that he had "approved downsizing," G-5's soldiers rushed to sign up for transfers.
Within a month and a half, Ortoren was left with barely six hundred men.
The rest either went home to settle down or were reassigned to logistics elsewhere.
Six hundred men—what did that mean? It meant Ortoren couldn't even fully crew a single standard warship.
At that moment, in G-5's harbor, Ortoren was chatting with Katakuri, whom he hadn't seen in ages.
Yes—Katakuri. He was standing openly inside a Marine base, and in this place, nobody cared.
From the top floors of G-5 headquarters, Momonga and Issho leaned against a window, curiously watching the scene below.
"Charlotte Katakuri," Issho murmured, holding up a wanted poster. "The rising pillar of the Big Mom Pirates. Bounty: 360 million Belly. He's just walking around our base as if nothing's wrong. We really don't have to worry?"
"Issho," Momonga puffed on his cigarette and sighed with mock wisdom. "Speaking as a veteran Marine officer, I'll admit—this is against regulations. But let's be real… the Marines aren't just about fighting pirates. There are politics, favors, give-and-take. Think about it: when Admiral Sengoku sent Ortoren to G-5, don't you think he anticipated this sort of situation? Right now, G-5 is in ruins, and headquarters won't give us much support. We've got to rely on ourselves. If we don't deal with the Big Mom Pirates today, tomorrow we'll end up dealing with the Beasts Pirates or some syndicate in the underworld."
Issho frowned. "But isn't this arms dealing? Selling Marine resources to pirates?"
Momonga jabbed a finger toward the harbor. "What Marine resources? Look—nothing but pirate ships out there. Not a single Marine warship. How could this count as selling our resources? Forget Katakuri's identity for a moment—what we've got is a secondhand recycler. We're unloading junk, repurposing scrap, turning trash into funding. Cuts down our burden and boosts our reserves!"
Issho stared at him in disbelief. "Ortoren taught you this, didn't he?"
"Of course!" Momonga answered as if it were obvious. "When he first pitched it, I thought it was shady too. But he's right—normally we sell to middlemen in the underworld, and they just resell to pirates. Why let them take the cut? Might as well sell directly and keep the profit ourselves."
...
Down at the port, Ortoren walked with Katakuri among rows of moored pirate ships.
"Take a look at these beauties," Ortoren said, gesturing at the vessels. "They're ready for battle right now—and all field-tested. The weak ones, the faulty ones, the unlucky ones? They never made it here. They got sunk outright by Marine warships. Only the good ones survive, and those are what you see now. Top quality, you know?"
Katakuri almost laughed. In his brother's mouth, secondhand junk somehow turned into "top quality." Quite the salesman.
For Ortoren, this was already a major deal—the first external transaction of his tenure as Base Commander. But for the Big Mom Pirates, it was a minor errand, hardly worth Katakuri's personal attention.
Still, since he hadn't seen his younger brother in ages and had time to spare, Katakuri came himself after receiving Ortoren's "trade request."
"If it weren't for appearances, I'd love to keep these ships myself," Ortoren went on. "But we Marines can't exactly sail pirate vessels around, can we? So I have to sell them off. But I don't want to hand them to just anyone. That's why I came to you. With this fleet, you'll be unstoppable. Next time you're in a fight you can't win, just call me—I'll march my army out to back you up!!"
This, from a man commanding all of six hundred men. Anyone overhearing him might think he commanded half a million.
Katakuri found it amusing but kept a straight face. "So how many of these 'superior warships' are we talking about?"
"Thirty-eight total. I'm practically giving them away—fifty million a ship. Not too steep, right?" Ortoren said with an air of generosity.
Katakuri knew the market. Standard Marine warships straight from Water Seven went for under eighty million Belly. And here was Ortoren, bold as brass, asking fifty million apiece for secondhand pirate ships—calling it a bargain at that.
"If you were selling real Marine warships, I'd buy them from you at a hundred million apiece—however many you had. But secondhand pirate vessels at fifty million? That's a stretch," Katakuri said with a smirk.
Ortoren paused, then nodded. "So that's your taste? Fine, I'll have these ships refitted. Fresh paint, Marine colors, Justice emblems on the sails. Presto—they're Marine warships."
Ships? He could build them fresh if he had to.
Katakuri twitched. "I meant standard-issue warships from your headquarters."
At that, Ortoren's face turned serious. "Now that… that's a beheading offense."
Selling captured pirate ships? Not exactly a crime. G-5 did it, and so did other Marine bases. Even headquarters had its hand in such trades—though usually through underworld brokers who flipped the ships back to pirates. Ortoren's approach—cutting out the middlemen—was less common, but not unheard of.
But selling standard-issue Marine warships? That was a line headquarters would never allow crossed. That was the kind of thing they'd crush with everything they had.
"So what?" Katakuri asked dismissively, unimpressed by Ortoren's serious expression.
"So you've got to pay extra!" Ortoren said, rubbing his hands like a street merchant. "Of course I can't openly sell you standard-issue Navy warships. But think about it—every year we fight you brutal pirates to the death. Naturally, equipment gets damaged… and the definition of 'damaged' is pretty flexible."
A warship takes a cannon hit, scrapes some paint—nothing serious. But as Base Commander, Ortoren had the authority to declare it unsafe. For the sake of his Marines' safety, he could scrap it on the spot.
Scrapped warships aren't hauled back to HQ—it's too costly. Normally, they're dismantled locally, timber salvaged, and that's that.
So Ortoren's plan? Buy some timber on the market, claim the ship's been dismantled, then secretly sell it off instead.
"Perfectly reasonable, perfectly logical, right?" he said.
Just then, the Den Den Mushi in his pocket rang. He pulled it out—it was Admiral Sengoku.
Ortoren didn't even bother hiding anything and answered directly. "Admiral?"
"Busy?" Sengoku asked casually.
"Yeah, busy selling warships with my second brother," Ortoren replied without shame.
Sengoku froze, then quickly barked, "Ortoren, you're still young—don't go further down the road of crime!"
"Not warships—pirate ships from G-5's stockpile. By the way, Admiral, I don't have a single real warship here. Did you get the application Momonga submitted? It's been over a month! You can't expect the horse to run without feeding it, right?" Ortoren shot back, clearly displeased.
Hearing it was pirate ships, Sengoku finally let out a breath. Without even probing further, he cut straight to the point. "That request you had Momonga file was way over the top. Fifty warships? Where am I supposed to find those? Fifty thousand elite troops? Where am I supposed to pull them from? Revise it—it won't pass review."
"Then forty-five ships, thirty thousand elites?" Ortoren countered after a pause.
"Fifteen ships. Five thousand combat-tested veterans. Agree, and I'll sign right now. Otherwise, forget it," Sengoku said firmly.
"That's not impossible!" Ortoren accepted immediately. "But you know as well as I do, you can't form a true vanguard unit with that few. So if HQ can't give me enough support, I'll handle it myself. The only issue is… the methods might not be exactly by the book."
"If you can raise fifty thousand elite troops and fifty warships in G-5 without headquarters' help—then even if the methods aren't by the book—as long as you don't betray the Marines or commit treason, I'll cover for you!" Sengoku declared with conviction.
What's a little rule-bending compared to gaining such overwhelming combat power for free? Sengoku wasn't above pragmatism. Otherwise, even Ortoren's direct dealings with pirates would've been enough to drag him into a military tribunal.
"Don't worry, Admiral. I may traffic weapons and sell ships, but I'm absolutely a good Marine. My loyalty's solid!" Ortoren quickly promised.