While Garp and Zephyr were idly chatting, two old men killing time in their own way, another old man sat alone in the Fleet Admiral's office—quietly stewing in frustration.
After brooding for a while, Sengoku finally stood up, intending to grab a snack to calm his nerves.
Only to discover that his carefully hidden stash—his treasured seaweed-and-meat-floss, refreshing green-tea–flavored senbei—had been completely cleaned out by someone.
In that instant, his whole body went numb.
Rubbing his aching temples, there was a brief moment when Sengoku truly felt that the position of Fleet Admiral was simply not meant for human beings.
On one side, he had to balance the crushing pressure from the World Government.On the other, he had to contend with pirates growing ever more rampant across the seas.And now, internally, there was Gern Reginald Sigmar—constantly delivering him one "surprise" after another…
Just as his headache threatened to split his skull, a light knock sounded at the office door.
"Come in," Sengoku replied curtly, forcing his expression back into that of the dignified Fleet Admiral.
The door opened, and a figure stepped inside.
The newcomer wore a sharply tailored gray suit. His soft blond hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. A warm, sunlit smile—tinged with a hint of shyness—rested on his face, and his eyes were clear and bright.
"Yo, Fleet Admiral!" he greeted cheerfully, his voice crisp and full of youthful energy.
The moment Sengoku saw him, much of the gloom on his face melted away. In his eyes appeared something rare—genuine warmth.
But he quickly straightened his expression, coughing lightly as he put on a stern front.
"Lieutenant Commander Rosinante," he said seriously."I don't recall summoning you today. Leaving your post without authorization and barging into the Fleet Admiral's office—are you asking to be sent to scrub toilets?"
The man standing before him was none other than Donquixote Rosinante, the child Sengoku regarded as his own son.
At this moment, Rosinante wore no ridiculous clown makeup, nor was he the taciturn man known by the codename Corazon.
He was simply Rosinante—slightly clumsy, brimming with vitality, a young Marine officer through and through.
"Hehe…" Rosinante scratched the back of his head awkwardly, his smile still bright."Well, um… Fleet Admiral, I just finished my mission report, so I thought I'd come check in on you."
He paused. The smile on his face faded just a little, his tone turning serious.
"And also… about that plan I mentioned to you last time. Have you given it any thought?"
The moment Sengoku heard the words that plan, the last trace of warmth vanished from his face.
What replaced it was an unbearably heavy, complicated expression.
He stared silently at Rosinante—at the boy he had personally brought back, carefully raised, and cherished as family. In his eyes lay worry, reluctance… and a deep, painful struggle.
"Rosinante…" Sengoku's voice dropped, more serious than it had ever been.
"You should understand better than anyone what that plan entails. Once you step onto that path, you will—"
"I know, Fleet Admiral."
Rosinante cut him off.
The smile was gone now. In its place stood a resolve and determination utterly at odds with his youthful face.
"I know it means losing the light and plunging into the deepest darkness.
It means danger. It means solitude. It means possibly never being able to turn back."
He took a step forward, his gaze burning as he met Sengoku's eyes. His voice wasn't loud—but it carried an undeniable force.
"But Fleet Admiral, I am his brother.
In this world, there is no one more suitable than me, isn't there?
For me to approach him. For me to obtain information.
It's the most natural choice—and the one with the highest chance of success."
When Sengoku heard the words I am his brother, his clenched fist tightened instinctively.