The sun hadn't risen yet when Seven picked up the Den Den Mushi receiver in the warship's captain's cabin. The communication snail crackled a few times before connecting.
"Old Man Komei."
"Seven?" Komei's voice sounded hoarse, as if he'd just woken up. "What is it? It's still dawn."
"We found an island under attack by a pirate alliance. Eight ships. Three captains who are Devil Fruit users. Zoan, Paramecia, and Logia."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Eight ships? An alliance that large in our patrol waters? What's the situation?"
"It's been taken care of. The three captains have been taken down. We're handling the rest of the crew. Many civilians were injured, but we evacuated them last night."
"You took down three Devil Fruit users on your own?" Komei's tone turned sharp.
"Sakazuki handled the Paramecia types. I took care of the rest."
Komei was silent for a few seconds. "That kid… all right. How many casualties on our side?"
"No fatalities. A few minor injuries among the soldiers who participated in the evacuation."
"Hm." Komei let out a long sigh from the other end. "Good work. I'll handle the report from here. As usual, the details will be… simplified."
"Thank you, Old Man."
"Don't call me Old Man, Kid. Hang up."
Click.
Seven set down the Den Den Mushi receiver and walked out of the cabin onto the deck.
Outside, the morning sun began to shine on the still-smoking island. Half the port city had been razed to the ground. The buildings that had survived the pirate attack were now bearing the brunt of last night's battle. The gash left by Susanoo was still clearly visible, splitting the land in two.
Sakazuki was already on land, standing among the piles of pirates captured the night before. Hundreds of grunts, rendered unconscious by Seven's Conqueror's Haki, had been tied up in rows by Navy soldiers.
Seven leaped down from the ship and landed on the sandy beach. He walked toward Sakazuki, who was staring at the line of pirates with a cold expression.
"Rear Admiral," Sakazuki greeted without turning his head. "They've regained consciousness. They're awaiting your decision."
Seven looked at the row of terrified pirate faces. Some of them were still wearing clothes stained with the blood of civilians. Some were crying, begging for mercy. Others spat in their direction with looks of hatred.
Seven looked at Sakazuki. "You know what needs to be done."
Sakazuki didn't need to be told twice. His right fist turned into magma.
The execution was swift. Sakazuki moved from one end of the line to the other. The magma fist struck one by one. There was no mercy. Only the burning heat and the sound of impacts ceasing one by one.
When it was over, all that remained were charred remains on the blackened beach sand.
Several Navy soldiers swallowed hard at the sight. But no one said a word. Pirates who slaughtered unarmed civilians didn't deserve mercy.
Seven and Sakazuki walked down the city streets toward the main harbor. Along the way, surviving civilians sat leaning against the remaining standing walls. Makeshift bandages from Navy soldiers wrapped around their arms, heads, and legs. Several elderly women wept beside bodies covered in cloth.
A middle-aged man who appeared to be the village chief limped over to Seven. His eyes were swollen. "Thank you," he said in a trembling voice. "If you hadn't come… we all would have…"
"No need to thank us," Seven cut in. He turned to the two soldiers following him. "Get the flagpole from the ship. And bring a spare Den Den Mushi."
The soldiers ran back toward the ship.
A few minutes later, on the highest open ground in the harbor, a wooden pole stood tall. Two flags fluttered atop it. The first was a blue flag bearing the Navy's seagull emblem. The second, below it, was a white cloth with a red-and-white fan emblem that Seven had sewn herself.
Seven handed the small Den Den Mushi to the village chief. "Keep this. If any pirates attack this island again, you can use this Den Den Mushi to call us."
The village chief accepted the communication snail with trembling hands. "B-but, we aren't part of any kingdom. We don't pay Sky Gold. The Navy has never..."
"This island is now under my protection," Seven cut in. He pointed to the two flags fluttering atop the flagpoles. "As long as those flags stand, no one is allowed to touch this island."
The village chief couldn't say a word. Tears streamed silently down his face. He bowed his head deeply.
Seven turned to leave. In front of a half-collapsed building, a little girl of four or five sat curled up alone. Her face was smudged with dust and tears. Her eyes were red and vacant, staring at the body of a woman covered in cloth not far from where she sat.
Seven stopped.
He crouched down in front of the little girl. She looked up, her teary eyes staring at Seven's expressionless face.
Seven turned around. Among his group of soldiers, he spotted a heavyset marine whose pockets were always bulging. "Hey. You always carry candy, right? Give me one."
The heavyset soldier was startled to be addressed directly by the Rear Admiral, but he quickly reached into his pocket and handed a pack of candy to Seven.
Seven placed the candy in the little girl's palm, then gently patted her head. He said nothing. No words of comfort could make up for what was already lost. He simply patted the child's head twice, then stood up and walked away.
Behind him, the little girl clutched the candy in her hand tightly.
Back on the warship, Navy soldiers carried the charred bodies of the pirates and threw them into the sea. The bodies fell one by one onto the water's surface, sinking slowly, swallowed by the waves and the fish waiting below.
The anchor was raised. The sails were unfurled. The warship cut through the waves, leaving the still-smoking island behind.
On the foredeck, Seven stood at the railing, his gaze fixed on the ocean. Sakazuki stood beside him, his arms folded across his chest. His wounds had already been bandaged by the ship's medical team.
"Why?" Sakazuki asked suddenly.
Seven turned his head.
"That island isn't under the World Government's jurisdiction. They don't pay Sky Gold. Procedurally, we're under no obligation to protect them. Let alone give them a Den Den Mushi and raise our flag." Sakazuki stared at Seven. "Why did you do it?"
Seven gazed at the horizon. "The Navy should protect every place where life exists. Not just the places that pay."
"But that violates…"
"I know." Seven cut in calmly. "But think about this, Sakazuki. If that island is left alone, attacked again next year, and again the year after, how many little girls like the one earlier will lose their mothers? And of those children, how many will choose to set sail to the sea because the mainland never gave them anything?"
Seven turned to Sakazuki. "You've seen it yourself. You've patrolled these waters for years. How many pirates have you killed? And has the number gone down?"
Sakazuki didn't answer.
"As long as the Sky Dragon reigns and this system persists, new Shirohiges will keep emerging from the ruins of islands like that. One by one. Endlessly."
Seven turned his face back toward the sea. "I told you at the start, Sakazuki. The question is the same. Do you want to keep exterminating the trash one by one until you die, or change the world that produces that trash?"
Sakazuki was silent for a long time. The sea breeze swept across his face, still covered in bruises and bandages.
The warship continued sailing.
Days turned into days. Weeks turned into weeks. Rear Admiral Quentin Seven's warship combed every corner of the West Blue without discrimination.
A World Government-affiliated royal island attacked by pirates? Seven arrives. The pirates are eradicated. The island is protected.
A small fishing island unaffiliated with anyone raided by pirates? Seven arrives as well. The pirates are eradicated. A flag is raised. A Den Den Mushi is left behind.
No distinction. No discrimination. Every place with life is protected.
In every battle, eyewitnesses always tell the same story. A young Navy officer whose eyes turn red in battle.
Unquenchable blue-flame sword strikes. Speed too fast for the naked eye to follow. And sometimes, for those unlucky enough to face him head-on, a fleeting glimpse of a giant skeleton looming behind the battle smoke.
Rumors spread from mouth to mouth, from port to port, from tavern to tavern across the West Blue.
"Red Eyes."
The nickname stuck. No one knew where it came from. Perhaps from a surviving pirate recounting the horror he had witnessed. Perhaps from a civilian who caught a glimpse of those red eyes through the shattered window of his home. But within a matter of weeks, everyone in the Western Sea knew the name.
Rear Admiral Red Eye.
In the dark corners of the harbor, pirates whispered to one another. Don't sail into the northern waters of the Western Sea. Don't attack islands flying the fan-shaped flag. And whatever you do, don't run into a warship with an officer who has red eyes.
Three weeks after that incident, the warship Seven sailed into familiar waters. In the distance, the coastline of the Western Sea Naval Main Base was clearly visible. A bustling military port filled with other warships, and at its highest mast, a blue seagull flag fluttered.
Seven stood at the bow of the ship, gazing at the approaching base. Behind him, the two hundred soldiers who, just three weeks ago, had been tense and stiff when speaking to him, were now working at a different pace. Faster. More confident. They had seen their commander fight, protect them, and treat them like human beings, not pawns.
Sakazuki stood beside Seven as usual, a fresh scar on his left arm that he considered a reminder.
"Sakazuki," Seven called without turning away from the base that was getting closer.
"Yes."
"You've seen it all these past three weeks. The islands we've protected. The people we've saved. And also the people we were too late to help."
Seven turned to face the deck. Not just Sakazuki, but all the soldiers on the ship who had been working slowly stopped what they were doing. Their eyes fixed on their commander.
"You've all seen what this world is really like," said Seven. His voice wasn't loud, but on the silent deck, every word rang clear. "So I ask you once more. Not just Sakazuki. But all of you."
Seven looked at them one by one.
"Do you want to change this world?"
The ship's deck was silent. Only the sound of the waves and the creaking of the sail ropes could be heard.
A young soldier with a crew cut, whose mother lived on a small island without protection from the World Government, was the first to raise his fist to his chest and bow his head.
Then a muscular female soldier with a scar on her temple, whose father had died because no Navy had come to help, raised her fist as well.
One by one. Two. Five. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. One hundred. Two hundred soldiers stood at attention with fists on their chests, bowing their heads to a Rear Admiral, in three weeks, had changed their perspective on what it meant to be part of the Navy.
Sakazuki gazed at the scene. Two hundred men who, just three weeks ago, had been ordinary soldiers, now stood with newfound conviction.
He looked at Seven's back as he stood before them all. A back clad in the mantle of justice on the outside and the fan emblem on the inside. The same back that had stood before him as he knelt, bleeding, in the square of the burning island.
Sakazuki raised his fist to his chest.
"I don't know how yet," Sakazuki said softly, loud enough for Seven to hear. "But I'm in."
Seven smiled faintly without turning around.
Their warship docked at the Western Sea Main Base harbor. From the pier, the elderly figure of Vice Admiral Komei stood waiting with his hands behind his back, watching the approaching ship with an expression that was a mix of relief and curiosity.