"Oh my god!"
The exclamation ripped through the tense air on the docks.
A young Marine, no older than twenty, stared with eyes as wide as dinner plates.
"Who in the world is that guy?"
Beside him, a grizzled old veteran, with a face like a sea chart and a pipe clenched firmly between his teeth, took a long, slow puff.
He squinted at Mike's retreating back.
"Judging by the uniform and that cape, he's a Captain from Headquarters," the veteran grunted, blowing a perfect smoke ring.
His voice was laced with a deep, unshakable puzzlement.
"But… I've been stationed here for thirty years, and I've never laid eyes on him before."
"True," another Marine chimed in. "That face, that swagger… tch, he's the kind of guy you don't forget once you've seen him."
"Yeah, but to tell Admiral Kizaru to get lost? That's not just confidence, that's insanely arrogant."
"Shh, you idiot, keep your voice down!" the first Marine hissed, elbowing his friend sharply.
"Look! Can't you see? Admiral Kizaru isn't even mad. In fact, he's… he's smiling. He's smiling so… so…"
He trailed off, unable to find the right word.
The old veteran squinted again, his pipe smoke curling around his head.
"Lewdly…?" he offered.
"..."
"You guys are all going to get court-martialed."
As the crowd of Marines buzzed with hushed, frantic whispers, Mike and his group had already moved past them, heading deeper into the fortress of Marineford.
Some conversations, after all, were not meant for public ears.
Kuzan had already taken the Nautilus with the recuperating members of CP9 to find a discreet, deep-water anchorage nearby, planning to rejoin them later.
Kizaru, meanwhile, had enthusiastically taken on the role of a hyperactive tour guide, pointing out every building and landmark to Mike with a salesman's zeal.
What choice did he have? He'd done the job, but the first payment hadn't even cleared yet.
Mike was his golden goose, his walking, talking ATM and he was determined to provide the most impeccable, five-star service imaginable.
As they walked, Kizaru's gaze drifted to the silent figure who had been trailing Mike since they arrived.
He gave Kuro a thorough, curious once-over.
"You've been recruiting quite a few new faces, eh kid?" Kizaru's voice held a lazy amusement.
"Any of 'em actually useful?"
'This one seems familiar,' Kizaru thought.
'Isn't he that minor pirate from the East Blue? The one Mike used his authority as my aide to pardon? Captain Kuro, or something? Doesn't look like much. Why would Mike take a liking to him?'
"Heh—" Mike just chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. He never recruited without a reason.
With his knowledge of the world's future, every choice was a calculated one.
'As for usefulness? Old man, just you wait. Once I'm kicking in the office with my feet up, you'll see exactly how useful Kuro is.'
The two chatted idly as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors, soon arriving at the grand entrance to Kizaru's personal office.
"Ta-daaa~" Kizaru announced, pushing the double doors open with a dramatic flourish.
"Welcome to my slacking-off headquarters—ahem, my sacred office!" He waggled his eyebrows at Mike, a sly grin plastered on his face.
'Go on, kid. Feast your eyes on the grand gift I've prepared for you!'
"..."
Mike stopped dead in his tracks.
He stared into the room, and his lips began to twitch uncontrollably.
"Old man," he said slowly, his voice flat.
"This is what you called… 'diligently holding down the fort with overtime work'?"
The office wasn't just messy.
It was a natural disaster of paperwork!
Stacks of documents towered like small mountains, some leaning so precariously they looked like they might collapse at any moment.
Files spilled from shelves, scrolls were piled in corners, and the desk itself was completely buried under an avalanche of unprocessed military affairs.
'So, this is the backlog Kizaru left for me?' Mike thought, a strange sense of calm settling over him.
'You know… it's actually not that much.'
"You've… really been 'diligent,' haven't you?" Mike's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"What can I say~" Kizaru drawled, plopping down into the one clear chair in the room.
He crossed his legs in a posture that practically screamed smug satisfaction.
"It's a heavy burden, being an Admiral of the Marines~"
His words might have spoken of responsibility, but his expression was practically a neon sign flashing "SLACKING OFF IS THE BEST" in bold, glowing letters.
"Yeah, yeah," Mike chuckled, shaking his head.
He walked over and settled onto a nearby sofa, casually pulling a cigar from his pocket.
He lit it, took a deep, satisfying drag, and looked completely at ease.
"All these documents to process…" he said, exhaling a perfect smoke ring, his tone lazy.
"Is this all you've got?"
"..."
Kizaru's smug smile froze on his face.
'What did he just say?' He pointed a trembling finger at the veritable mountain range of paperwork.
"This… you think this is too little?"
Instead of answering, Mike just gave Kuro a meaningful look.
"Kuro. Show the old man what professionalism looks like."
"Yes, Captain."
Kuro responded with a respectful nod.
He adjusted his glasses, a cold glint of light flashing across the lenses.
He strode to the center of the chaos, took a single deep breath, and then his hands began to move.
It wasn't just fast; it was art.
A dizzying blur of white-gloved hands flew through the air, flitting through the piles like butterflies.
His mind was like a super-computer of organization, processed everything at lightning speed.
"Swish, swish, swish—"
The chaotic mess of documents began to organize itself at a visible rate.
Sorting, filing, categorizing, labeling… Kuro's movements were as fluid and seamless as a river, a symphony of rustling paper and the methodical click of a stamper.
In less than half an hour, the office, which had looked like a garbage dump, was transformed.
It was neat, orderly, and militarily precise.
The once-towering mountains of paper were now arranged in perfect, manageable stacks on the desk, standing at attention like soldiers awaiting inspection.
Each file was categorized, with tabs for "Important," "Urgent," and "Special Attention" clearly visible.
"Captain, everything has been sorted," Kuro stated respectfully, his breathing not even slightly labored, as if his astonishing feat was nothing more than a trivial chore.
"Good work," Mike nodded approvingly.
He walked over to the desk, pulled a small, official-looking stamp from his pocket, and began rapidly stamping the documents that required his signature.
"???"
"This…"
Kizaru stared, completely dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open wide enough to catch flies.
"Wait…" he stammered, his brain short-circuiting.
'Did the nearly two months of military affairs I saved up for Mike… just get completely finished… in under thirty minutes???'
...
Meanwhile, the news hit the world like a cannonball.
Carried on the wings of the News Coos, the explosive announcement reached every corner of the Four Seas and the Grand Line in the blink of an eye.
The Marines would be holding a public execution—
For "Fire Fist" Ace, the 2nd Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, one of the Four Emperors of the New World!
The location: Marine Headquarters—Marineford!
Instantly, the entire world erupted into chaos.
"WHAT?!"
"A public execution for Fire Fist Ace?!"
"Have the Marines lost their damn minds?!"
"They can't possibly understand what this means!"
"Ace is Whitebeard's son! He will never, ever let this go!"
"A great war… the likes of which we've never seen… it's inevitable now!"
"This… this is going to be one hell of a show!"
From pirate crews in the New World to kings in their castles, from revolutionaries in the shadows to civilians in the street, everyone was stunned.
The announcement was a tremor that shook the very foundations of the era.
The Summit War… was coming.
-----------------------------
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