A streak of golden light cut through the night sky, vanishing beyond the horizon of Marineford.
Sengoku stood silently by the office window, his gaze fixed on the fading glow.
For decades, the Navy had been a vast and intricate war machine powerful, disciplined, but never operating at full strength. Politics, resource shortages, and the iron grip of the World Government had always kept it shackled.
But tonight… for the first time, that machine had roared to life.
The Navy's might its three Admirals were finally all in motion.
Sakazuki had taken command of the G-5 Branch in the New World, ensuring that during this period of upheaval between old and new eras, the Navy would face no interference from pirate factions.
Borsalino had been entrusted with the "Seafloor Gold Recovery" project, the bold new initiative designed by Renn Hawk himself one that would secure the Navy's financial independence forever. Sengoku had no doubt that, with the lure of immense bonuses and commissions, that lazy man's efficiency would suddenly reach terrifying levels.
Meanwhile, Kuzan led an elite fleet, tasked with transporting the treasures of the Sky Island's Golden City. His job was to ensure that until the new plan was fully operational, the Navy's budget remained steady.
But that also meant one thing Marineford's defenses were thinner than ever.
Which was why Sengoku had recalled Garp.
With himself, Garp, and Tsuru holding headquarters together, stability would not be an issue.
Still, this was the most crucial period of the Navy's reform. There could be no mistakes. Not even one.
If they could endure this phase and see the reforms through, the world itself would begin to change.
Sengoku's eyes softened slightly as he turned back toward the office.
His gaze fell upon the mountain of paperwork Borsalino had left behind a monument to procrastination.
He sighed, rolling up his sleeves. "Looks like it's going to be an all-nighter, Tsuru."
Tsuru placed a steaming cup of tea on his desk, smiling lightly. "You should be used to that by now."
Sengoku chuckled wearily, gathering the mountain of reports into his arms and dropping them heavily onto his desk.
Thud!
He cracked his back, joints popping like small fireworks, then pulled out his chair and sat down.
Without another word, Tsuru took a seat across from him, quietly picking up the first file and beginning to read.
Outside, the night deepened.
Inside, the lamps burned bright.
Two veterans who had carried the Navy through decades of storms worked side by side once more fighting not pirates this time, but the weight of change itself.
For the Navy's rebirth. For a future that could finally belong to justice.
…
New World – Egghead Island.
The island known as the Future of 500 Years, floating among the clouds like a fragment of another world.
Towering egg-shaped domes pierced the mist, their metallic shells gleaming under the moonlight. Inside, sprawling layers of futuristic cities pulsed with mechanical rhythm lights, machines, and science fused into something both wondrous and unnatural.
A ray of golden light tore through the clouds, flickering above the highest dome before vanishing.
Borsalino had arrived.
"Now, now… let's not make things too difficult for an old friend, shall we, Vegapunk?" he murmured, hands in his pockets as he hovered high above the island.
Then, narrowing his eyes, he sighed softly. "Better clear the surveillance first just in case."
He closed his eyes, and a wave of Observation Haki spread outward like liquid mercury.
The entire island unfolded within his mind: every corridor, every shadow, every heartbeat.
He could feel the countless tiny Den Den Mushi cameras hidden across the island perched atop light poles, nestled within vents, even disguised as vending machines.
"Really now," he said, clicking his tongue. "The World Government sure loves to keep an eye on things."
His figure flickered.
In the next instant, he was gone.
High atop the communications tower of Egghead's A-Layer research zone, a small surveillance snail suddenly cracked apart under a flash of light. Its feed went dark.
In the B-Layer residential sector, a beam of golden light lanced through an automated dessert vending machine, vaporizing the monitoring device hidden inside. A few burnt donuts fell out, smoking.
Flash after flash rippled across the island silent bursts of golden brilliance wiping away the World Government's eyes one by one.
Not a single alarm was raised.
Moments later, Kizaru reappeared high in the air, brushing imaginary dust from his coat.
"There we go. Clean as a whistle."
He stretched lazily and yawned, as though he'd merely done a bit of light exercise.
Then his body turned to light once more, descending in a golden beam toward the island's entrance.
As the head of the Navy's Science Division, he had unrestricted access to Egghead Island.
"Admiral Kizaru, sir!"
The stationed Marines snapped to attention as he passed.
Kizaru gave a casual wave, strolling through the gleaming corridors of the future city with his usual unhurried gait.
Before long, he reached the main research lab.
He pushed the door open.
The lab looked like a giant mechanical heart, pulsing with the hum of machinery. Hundreds of robotic arms moved in precise rhythm, performing tasks that blurred the line between magic and technology.
"Hmm…?"
Kizaru's sharp gaze immediately landed on the center of the room.
A massive man sat motionless on a reinforced metal chair, his body connected to a web of cables and sensors. A thick book rested quietly in his enormous hands.
His face was calm expressionless as if the world itself no longer concerned him.
The man's distinctive spotted hat and towering frame were unmistakable.
Bartholomew Kuma.
One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
"So, you're here too, huh, Kuma," Kizaru muttered.
From behind a cluster of machines, a rounded head popped out apple-shaped and instantly recognizable.
"Borsalino? What brings you here?" said Dr. Vegapunk, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
"Ah, just checking on an old friend," Kizaru replied, strolling leisurely into the lab. His gaze lingered briefly on Kuma, and something flickered behind his sunglasses.
Deep within, a quiet unease stirred.
The Pacifista Project Vegapunk's brainchild, fully funded by the World Government, executed with absolute secrecy.
And Kizaru himself had contributed to it, lending his laser technology to power the weaponized human replicas.
The man sitting before him Bartholomew Kuma had given more than just his strength. He'd offered his body… and piece by piece, his very soul.
Kizaru knew the truth behind it. Kuma had only agreed to the transformation because it was the only way to cure his daughter Bonney's terminal illness.
In those days, when the World Government controlled everything, no one had a choice.
But now…
Now the tide was shifting.
Kizaru stood there in silence for a long moment, watching the once-great man slowly losing himself to cold machinery.
Then, with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he whispered, almost to himself
"I wonder… if weakening the World Government's power counts toward my bonus?"
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