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Marine Headquarters – New Marineford
The scent of coffee lingered in the air as the sun crept over the horizon. A slight breeze stirred the tall flags above Marine HQ, and the sound of waves crashing against the fortress walls echoed faintly beneath the chatter of boots and bellowed orders.
Inside the war room, silence prevailed.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku sat at the head of a long, polished table, fingers steepled, gaze heavy as the latest intelligence report rested untouched in front of him. His cap sat on the table's edge. Only a few officers dared to breathe too loud in his presence.
Garp, as usual, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, a half-eaten rice cracker clutched in his hand.
Beside him stood Vice Admiral Tsuru, calm and sharp-eyed, scanning the room as though expecting the walls themselves to speak.
Sengoku finally spoke, voice quiet but cutting.
"Is this information confirmed?"
Tsuru nodded once. "Yes. Multiple sources. The kingdom of Alabasta verified it. Crocodile—one of the Seven Warlords—has fallen. And not by our hands."
The room remained still. Garp let out a low whistle, shaking crumbs from his uniform. "Heh. Didn't think anyone would take that bastard down so soon. Crocodile always was slippery."
Sengoku ignored him. "And this man… Ethan. What do we know?"
A younger officer stepped forward, hesitant. "Sir. Based on the compiled reports, he first appeared in the East Blue. No records before that. In less than two months, he's dismantled known pirate crews, shut down several bounty-hunting syndicates, and crippled Baroque Works."
Tsuru cut in. "He's not just strong. He's precise. He goes after systems—underground networks, corruption, hidden players. Not typical pirate behavior."
Another file slid across the table. "He doesn't act alone," the officer continued. "He's always seen with three women. Their identities are unclear—possibly high-level fighters. No bounty posters yet."
Garp snorted. "Sounds like a pretty boy leading a fan club."
"No," Sengoku said. "It's worse."
He opened the file at last. Grainy photographs. Blurred snapshots from afar. Ethan standing before a broken Baroque Works compound. Another image—him walking calmly through a destroyed pirate base, survivors on their knees. And one report—rumored sightings of pirate crews bowing after defeat.
"He's not killing them," Sengoku murmured, "He's converting them."
That word hung in the air like smoke. Converting.
"This is how revolutions begin," Tsuru added grimly. "With symbols. With victories that mean something."
Garp glanced at the file. "So what? Another strong kid. You've seen hundreds of 'em, Sengoku."
"This one's different," the Fleet Admiral replied. "He's not interested in chaos or wealth. He's too focused. And now the people are whispering."
One of the other Vice Admirals leaned forward. "Do we have any indication of ideology? Is he aligned with Dragon?"
"Not yet," Tsuru answered. "But the signs are familiar. Too familiar."
Another officer stood. "Permission to dispatch a squad. Quietly. Track him. No contact."
Sengoku considered it. "Not yet. If we move too soon, we risk drawing attention. For now, increase observation. Double the intelligence focus in East Blue and Paradise. And contact CP-0."
The officers stiffened.
"Sir, you want Cipher Pol involved?"
"We need ears beyond the Navy. If this Ethan truly has no origin, someone's hiding something."
A long pause.
Tsuru finally asked the question all were thinking. "And if he is building something greater?"
Sengoku's eyes narrowed.
"Then we stop it before it becomes a fire we can't extinguish."
Garp scratched his chin. "Or you let the fire burn, see who it consumes first."
Sengoku slammed his palm on the table, making the file jump. "I won't have another Gol D. Roger. I won't have another Dragon. Not while I'm Fleet Admiral."
Silence followed. Even Garp's usual levity died.
Outside, seagulls circled above the Marine fortress, oblivious to the decisions that would shape the world below.
Meanwhile, across the Grand Line, Ethan sailed unknowingly toward the next chapter of his journey, unaware that eyes now followed him from every corner of the world.
But the pieces had begun to move.
And the World Government had taken notice.
---
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