Three days later.
Two Marine admirals — Zephyr and Sengoku — arrived at what was once an uninhabited island.
The moment Kuzan's death signal was received, Zephyr reported it directly to Fleet Admiral Kong. Orders came down at once — Sengoku and Zephyr were to depart immediately, using the Navy's fastest warship to reach the site.
The voyage was heavy with silence and dread. Both men understood what it meant for Kuzan to send that signal. In the entire sea, there were only a handful of people capable of forcing him to that point.
"Did the World Government give any intel?" Zephyr's voice was low, but tense. "Who could it be? Which pirate has that kind of power?!"
"Not Roger," Sengoku replied grimly.
"Not Shiki."
"Rocks is dead," Zephyr muttered. "Then who—who the hell can make him send a death signal?!"
He slammed his fist on the rail, veins standing out on his forearm. The memory of Kuzan's quiet confidence before setting off to train gnawed at him — that faint, easygoing smirk, the way he brushed off every warning.
And now… this.
At first, Zephyr had thought the signal must be a mistake — some malfunction or false alarm. But it came again.
And again.
Three times in a row, each one stronger than the last.
That was no accident. That was Kuzan, acknowledging he was staring death in the face.
It meant he was either already dead… or moments away from it.
Zephyr's chest tightened. When Kuzan had first gone out for training, he'd been strong enough to spar with him evenly. There were only a few pirates in the world who could kill him outright.
For Kuzan to send that signal… it could only mean he had faced a monster.
"Who was it?" Zephyr demanded again, his voice raw.
Sengoku's gaze darkened. "…Patrick Redfield."
Zephyr froze. "What?! The Red Count?! That lunatic?!"
He surged to his feet. "Wasn't he under surveillance?! What are the CP agents even doing?!"
"The agent assigned to monitor him is dead," Sengoku said heavily. "Redfield's Observation Haki is far too powerful — he's killed every CP operative sent to watch him. The World Government has been keeping its distance for fear of losing more."
Zephyr's fist trembled. "If anything happens to my disciple, I'll hold the World Government itself accountable! Let's see how they explain their precious intelligence network then!"
Sengoku didn't stop him — couldn't. His own heart was burning too.
Kuzan wasn't just another promising recruit.
He was the future of the Marines. More than Borsalino, more than Sakazuki — Sengoku had seen in Kuzan a rare balance of strength and heart, a man who could one day carry the weight of justice itself.
And now that future might already be gone.
He closed his eyes briefly. As a man, he wanted to rage. But as a leader — the one next in line to become Fleet Admiral — he couldn't afford to lose composure. He had to remain calm, for the sake of everyone aboard.
No one spoke for the rest of the voyage.
Zephyr sat at the bow, silent tears slipping down his face, the sea wind cold against his skin. Guilt gnawed at him — he had sent Kuzan here to temper himself, to grow stronger. And now, his student might have died because of it.
By the time the warship reached the island's coordinates, both men were braced for battle.
They expected to find Redfield waiting.
But when they arrived, the pirate was gone.
Redfield had already left the area a day earlier. His mastery of Observation Haki — said to perceive not just movements, but thoughts themselves — had warned him the moment Kuzan triggered his distress beacon. He'd searched for a day, confirmed Kuzan's presence had vanished, and departed.
For him, staying meant risking an ambush by two Marine Admirals. Even Redfield knew when to cut his losses.
As for the island… it was no longer an island at all.
What greeted Zephyr and Sengoku was devastation. The landmass had been torn apart, shattered into floating icebergs and debris. The aftermath of a massive explosion had split the sea itself.
They stood at the edge of the deck, staring in silence.
Not even a body remained.
Zephyr's breath caught in his throat. His face seemed to age ten years in an instant.
He fell to his knees on the deck, shoulders shaking.
Sengoku said nothing. He could only stand beside him, eyes downcast. The truth was clear — Kuzan had unleashed everything he had, likely in one final, suicidal attempt to take Redfield with him.
A young life, full of promise… extinguished in the line of duty.
Sengoku finally raised a hand, voice hoarse but steady.
"…Fire the cannons. A final salute."
The order spread across the warship.
Moments later, a dozen naval guns tilted toward the sky — and thunder roared as volley after volley exploded upward, shells bursting like fireworks over the shattered sea.
A farewell worthy of a Marine who'd died with honor.
The barrage continued until every last shell was spent. Then, silence.
At Zephyr's insistence, the ship remained anchored there for a week.
They searched the wreckage, combed every current, but found nothing — no trace of Kuzan, no sign of Redfield. Only fragments of ice drift endlessly on the waves.
By the end of the week, even Sengoku had to accept what Zephyr could not say aloud.
Kuzan was gone.
When the warship finally turned to leave, Zephyr refused to board. He stayed behind with a small detachment of sailors, standing alone on the frozen remains of the island — waiting.
Waiting for a miracle.
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