In Rear Admiral Gion's office, Rain sat leisurely on the sofa, sipping black tea as if he owned the place.
Gion, meanwhile, stood behind her desk holding a Den Den Mushi receiver, her expression complicated.
On the other end was Marine Headquarters' chief of staff, Vice Admiral Tsuru.
"Gion. Where are you right now?"
"Reporting: my fleet is patrolling near Fren Island," Gion answered immediately.
"Fren Island?" Tsuru paused. "That's close to Jaya. Did you see this morning's World Economic News Paper? The front-page story about Mock Town."
Gion's eyes flicked to the newspaper on her desk. Her grip on the receiver tightened unconsciously, and her voice went a little dry.
"Vice Admiral Tsuru… I not only saw it. I think… I may also know who did it."
On the other end, Tsuru's breathing seemed to stop for a beat.
"…That quickly?" Tsuru's voice carried real surprise. "You've found the one who wiped out Mock Town's pirates? Who is it? Did you clash with them?"
Tsuru's first assumption was that Gion had already fought the mysterious person.
"There was no clash." Gion glanced at Rain, who was still calmly drinking tea. Her expression was so complicated it was almost painful. "Because that person is Rain—the one who went missing recently."
"…"
This time, the silence stretched for more than ten seconds.
Gion could practically hear Tsuru's breathing turn heavier on the other end.
"Vice Admiral Tsuru?"
"…Continue," Tsuru said, her voice returning to cold.
Gion drew a breath and summarized Rain's "script" in the briefest, clearest way she could.
On the other end, Tsuru's mind worked at full speed, instantly connecting every thread.
"…I see." Tsuru's voice was no longer tense—if anything, it carried a trace of relief.
Gion frowned slightly. "Vice Admiral Tsuru, should I bring them back to Marineford immediately to report in?"
"No," Tsuru denied. "Continue the scheduled patrol routes and assigned areas. There's no need to rush this. Headquarters will handle the rest."
"And," Tsuru's tone sharpened suddenly, "your priority order changes from this moment: you will personally supervise Rain. Do not let him leave your sight."
"Do not let him leave your sight. Assess his abilities. Record his words and actions—"
Tsuru paused, then added the most crucial line:
"Until you return to Headquarters, he is your most important subordinate. Understood?!"
"Yes!" Gion snapped into attention.
Click.
The call ended.
Gion stood behind her desk, arms folded, staring at the man she was now officially assigned to "supervise." She took a deep breath and repeated Tsuru's orders aloud.
"That was Vice Admiral Tsuru. I relayed everything you just told me exactly as it was."
Gion's voice tried to stay steady, but her eyes were complicated. "The original patrol mission continues. But before it's done, I've received a new directive."
She looked straight into Rain's eyes, enunciating each word:
"From now on, you are under my direct supervision. At any time, you are not to leave my sight."
"That's the decision from above."
She finished and waited for Rain's response, wondering if he'd resent what was essentially soft detention.
"Cough."
Rain set down his teacup. He acted as if he hadn't understood what the order really meant, then looked up with that familiar smile.
"So Vice Admiral Tsuru means I can't leave your sight even to use the bathroom?"
Thud!
Gion snorted and, almost reflexively, leaned in and chopped him on the forehead—precise and completely unapologetic.
Even knowing how strong he was now, her body's habit moved faster than her brain.
"Stop mouthing off!" Gion pulled her hand back, forcing her face into a Rear Admiral's stern authority. "Don't think eating a Logia means you get to wag your tail."
She was harsh in words, but her eyes drifted unconsciously to the clock on the wall.
"Ahem."
Lunch had long passed, and the two of them hadn't eaten—busy "interrogating."
She cleared her throat, using a deliberately cold tone to hide what she really meant.
"Because of you, it's already this late and I still haven't eaten. Shouldn't you show a little… consideration?"
Rain looked at her trying to act dignified and laughed.
"As you command, Rear Admiral."
…
In the small kitchen, warm yellow light chased away the sea's chill.
Gion propped her chin on one hand, lying over the small table with no dignity whatsoever, lazily watching Rain work.
That familiar, everyday warmth—the feeling of "life"—finally loosened a nerve in her that had been taut for three full months.
"It's ready."
Rain carried over two steaming plates. He hooked a chair out with his foot and sat down across from her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"There's only Sea King meat on board, so I couldn't do anything too fancy."
He slid a golden, fragrant mixed fried rice toward her, then thoughtfully placed the spoon handle within easy reach, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.
"Eat while it's hot."
Gion stared at the rice—golden, glossy, the grains shimmering with oil—and for some reason her nose stung.
She forgot all about manners, grabbed the spoon, and shoveled in a huge bite.
Hot. Savory. Real.
"Hff—hff—" She sucked in two breaths from the heat, but refused to spit it out, swallowing it down in a lump.
Rain said nothing. He calmly cut his meat, then naturally picked up the tenderest piece and dropped it onto her plate.
Gion didn't even look up—she simply ate it, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
For a while, the tiny dining area held only the crisp clink of utensils against plates and the alternating sounds of chewing.
This kind of wordless, lived-in silence felt safer than any conversation.
Until both plates were scraped spotless—not even a single grain of rice left.
Clang.
Gion tossed the spoon down and leaned back, collapsing into the chair with absolutely no grace, releasing a long, satisfied sigh.
"…Ah. So good."
Rain smiled at her looking like a prisoner of food.
Then, as if something suddenly struck him, he slapped his palm lightly.
"Oh. Crap."
Gion startled, her lazy face snapping back to alert. "What now?"
"I think…" Rain wore a troubled expression, "I promised someone that next time I made something good, he'd be the first to eat it hot."
…
Late at night.
Rain and Gion stood side by side on deck, letting the cool sea wind blow.
"You really have no objections to Tsuru's order?" Gion asked, arms folded over her sword, breaking the silence.
"Why would I object? Going on missions with Rear Admiral Gion sounds pretty great to me."
"She told you not to return to Headquarters yet—that's her protecting you," Gion explained, assuming Rain was still joking. "Once the hawks at HQ learn you've gained the Rumble-Rumble Fruit's power, they'll treat you as a top-level strategic weapon and throw you into the New World's most dangerous battlefield. You'll never have freedom again."
"I understand," Rain said calmly, watching the dark sea.
Gion continued. "Keeping you by my side buys time—time for you, and time for her to find the best position for you."
"One where your strength can be used, without chaining you."
Rain smiled faintly.
"Rear Admiral," he turned and looked at her profile softened by moonlight, "do you think I care where they put me?"
Gion blinked. "You don't want—"
"Whether it's a Grand Line branch or the New World," Rain said, his tone flat as still water, "it's all the same to me."
Gion frowned. "Why?"
Rain's gaze went into the black distance, those dark eyes seeming to pierce the night and see the countless evils breeding within it.
"Because this world…"
"…is full of trash that needs to be cleaned."
He met her eyes and stated it like a simple fact.
"Vice Admiral Tsuru doesn't actually need to worry so much about me."
"Because wherever I am…"
"…that place becomes the most dangerous front line."
~~~
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