The heavy steel hull of the Marine warship sliced through the dark, turbulent waters of the Grand Line, heading steadily back toward the headquarters at Marineford. Inside the vessel's medical bay, the air was thick and suffocating. It smelled strongly of antiseptic chemicals, barely masking the metallic, rusting scent of dried blood. A single kerosene lamp hung from the ceiling, swaying rhythmically with the movement of the waves. Its flickering orange light cast long, dancing shadows against the cold iron walls, adding a grim and solemn atmosphere to the sleepless night.
"Cough… cough, cough…"
A violent fit of coughing shattered the silence. On the central sickbed, a large figure wrapped almost entirely in white bandages slowly forced his eyes open.
Vice Admiral Sakazuki's consciousness returned to him slowly, like a tide rising over jagged rocks. His mind was still hazy, a chaotic mess of fragmented images. His last clear memory was of that bar on the island. He remembered unleashing his magma, the heat intense enough to melt stone, and launching his most destructive attack. And then… nothing made sense. He remembered a black-haired youth. The boy didn't use Haki, nor did he possess a Devil Fruit ability. He simply punched. But that punch carried a force—an energy the boy called Ki—that felt heavier than a mountain. Sakazuki had been sent flying backward, his Logia defenses completely shattered by the raw, incomprehensible power.
"Vice Admiral Sakazuki! You're finally awake!"
The surprised voice of his adjutant pulled him away from the humiliating memory and back to the cold reality of the medical bay. Sakazuki laboriously turned his stiff neck. He saw his adjutant standing by the bedside, his face a complicated mixture of lingering fear and immense relief.
"Where… where are we?" Sakazuki asked. His voice was incredibly hoarse, sounding as rough as if he had swallowed burning coals.
"We are currently navigating the Grand Line, Sir. We are on our way back to Marineford," the adjutant replied promptly, straightening his posture.
Sakazuki fell silent, his eyes narrowing as he assessed his condition. He tried to sit up, summoning the strength that usually flowed through his veins, but a tearing pain shot through every muscle in his body. He collapsed back onto the sterile white sheets, powerless. It was a sensation he had not felt in decades.
"So… we escaped," Sakazuki muttered, staring at the ceiling. He took a deep, ragged breath to steady himself. "It must have been difficult for you and the men to rescue me from that man, Takuro. He was a monster. What were the casualties this time? Make sure you compile a full list of the fallen soldiers immediately. The pensions must be distributed to their families without a single day of delay. Justice demands we take care of our own."
A strange, hesitant look flashed across the adjutant's face. He shifted his weight uncomfortably before answering. "Reporting, Vice Admiral. In this operation… besides your severe injuries… there were no other casualties."
"What?" Sakazuki's eyes widened, his pupils contracting in sheer disbelief.
He stared at his subordinate, trying to process the information. He, a Logia user and one of the Marines' greatest powers, had been beaten within an inch of his life. Yet, the ordinary soldiers were perfectly fine? Was that even reasonable? If this man wasn't his most trusted adjutant, Sakazuki would have executed him on the spot for lying.
"And… strictly speaking, Sir, we didn't escape," the adjutant continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if afraid the walls were listening. "Takuro voluntarily let us leave."
Sakazuki was completely stunned. His mind raced. That terrifying opponent, a man with a Power Level that must have rivaled the Yonko, had simply let them go? It sounded like a fantasy. During their brief fight, that man had shown no mercy. He didn't seem like the kind-hearted type who would spare a Marine Vice Admiral.
"What was the price? What did we give him?" Sakazuki pressed eagerly, his voice rising with suspicion. Then, a sudden realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. He scanned the room frantically. "Wait. Where is Gion? Why haven't I seen her? She was leading the support unit."
The adjutant's expression instantly became dark and complex. He lowered his head, remaining silent for a long, agonizing moment. When he finally spoke, the words came out with great difficulty.
"Vice Admiral Gion… in order to cover our retreat and ensure your survival… she was captured by Takuro."
The silence that followed was deafening. The adjutant didn't even dare to imagine what would happen to a woman as beautiful as Vice Admiral Momousagi in the hands of a lawless pirate like Takuro.
"What?!"
Sakazuki abruptly tried to sit up again, fueled by a surge of pure rage, but his injured body betrayed him once more. He slammed back onto the bed, gasping for air, his eyes staring blankly at the wooden planks above him.
So that was the truth. No wonder they were able to leave safely. It wasn't mercy; it was a trade. Gion had exchanged her freedom for their lives.
"Damn it!!"
Sakazuki clenched his fists beneath the bandages until his knuckles cracked. He was an iron-blooded Marine who held "Absolute Justice" as his only creed. For the first time in his life, he tasted a complete and utter defeat. Not only had he been physically dominated by a mysterious warrior using Ki, but he had also been forced to survive at the expense of a colleague's safety. An unprecedented sense of shame washed over him like a scorching tide of magma.
"Damn you, Takuro! I swear on the name of Justice, I will never let you off! I will hunt you to the ends of the New World!"
At the same time, miles away in the sacred heart of the World Government's military power, the atmosphere in the Fleet Admiral's office at Marineford was equally heavy.
"What did you say?! Sakazuki was defeated?! And Gion has been captured?!"
Fleet Admiral Sengoku, a man usually known for his strategic brilliance and composure, abruptly stood up from his massive oak desk. The sudden movement sent stacks of important documents and wanted posters scattering across the floor like fallen leaves. He gripped the receiver of the Den Den Mushi, his face turning red with anger and disbelief.
"Bang!"
Beside him, seated on a plush sofa, Vice Admiral Tsuru reacted with rare shock. Her hand jerked, knocking over her porcelain teacup. The scalding brown liquid spread rapidly across the exquisite carpet, staining the Marine symbol woven into the fabric. This legendary strategist, who had faced the likes of Gol D. Roger and Whitebeard without flinching, showed a panicked expression for the first time in years.
"Gion…!" She called out the name softly, her voice laced with unconcealed worry and fear.
Sengoku suppressed his rising fury and shouted into the Golden Den Den Mushi. "Didn't I clearly instruct everyone to avoid conflict with this Takuro individual? We don't know enough about his origins or this 'Saiyan' heritage he claims! Why did it escalate to this point?"
The communications officer on the other end of the line was clearly intimidated by the Fleet Admiral's roaring voice. He stammered out a terrified explanation. "It… it was Vice Admiral Akainu, sir! He launched a magma attack as soon as he landed on the island… Vice Admiral Momousagi tried to intervene, but she couldn't stop him in time…"
Sengoku sank back into his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He let out a deep, exhausted sigh that seemed to age him ten years in an instant. He should have known. Sakazuki's impetuous nature and his fanatical adherence to Absolute Justice were his greatest strengths, but also his greatest liabilities. He never expected the consequences to be this severe—losing a top-tier combatant to an unknown enemy.
After slamming the phone back onto the receiver, Sengoku rubbed his aching temples. "Being Fleet Admiral is getting harder and harder… First the Yonko, now these warriors from the stars."
After the initial shock, Tsuru had regained her usual composure, though her tightly clasped hands still betrayed her inner anxiety. She looked at her old friend. "At least Sakazuki and the rest of the fleet are alive. We must focus on the present. Now, Gion's safety is the most important thing."
"Exactly," Sengoku nodded, his glasses glinting in the office light. "Is there any way to contact Takuro? We need to see if we can ransom Gion back. We can offer Berries, Devil Fruits, or perhaps technology. Let him name his terms."
Tsuru reached into her pocket and took out a small, exquisite Den Den Mushi. It was a personal line. "There is no need to contact his ship directly; I will just dial Gion's personal Den Den Mushi. Even if she is a prisoner, they might answer it. It's worth a try."
At this very moment, in the lavish King's Suite of the ship known as the Conqueror, the atmosphere was in stark contrast to the gloom of the hospital ship or the panic of Marineford.
The air in the room was warm and filled with a peculiar, sweet scent—a mix of expensive perfume and something more primal.
"Hmm… hmm…"
Soft moonlight streamed into the spacious room through a large, circular porthole, illuminating the scene. A faint, almost imperceptible groan, full of suppressed feeling, slowly emanated from the huge, disheveled round bed in the center of the room.
Purupuru… Purupuru…
The sudden, shrill ringing of the Den Den Mushi on the nightstand broke the room's ambiguous atmosphere.
"Who… who is it… at this hour…"
Gion's voice drifted from the bed. It sounded lazy, tinged with a bit of hoarseness and a hint of a sob, completely unlike her usual sharp and confident command tone.
"It seems to be yours," a male voice replied. It was Takuro. His tone carried a hint of annoyance at being disturbed during his private time.
Finally, Gion struggled from beneath the silk covers. She extended a slender arm that looked as smooth as soft jade in the moonlight, though her skin bore a suspicious pink flush. She fumbled blindly for a moment before grabbing the receiver of the frantically ringing snail.
"Hello…" Her voice sounded weak and breathless, with a noticeable nasal tone, as if she had been crying—or doing something else entirely.
"Gion?! Is that you?! Gion!"
On the other end of the line, Vice Admiral Tsuru's anxious voice immediately blasted through the speaker. "How are you now?! Are you alright?! You weren't tortured, were you?! Tell me the situation!"
Tsuru had prepared herself for the worst. She thought that if Gion had been captured, the Den Den Mushi would surely be in the hands of Takuro, and she would have to negotiate a hostage release. She didn't expect Gion herself to answer the call so quickly.
"I… I'm fine, Sister Tsuru…" Gion replied, trying to steady her breathing. However, her voice uncontrollably took on an extremely slight tremor. "Mmm… ah…"
"Hmm? Gion? What's wrong? Your voice sounds strange. Are you injured?" Tsuru asked, her strategist's mind instantly picking up on the oddity.
"No… not injured…" Gion's voice was intermittent, pausing between words as if she was enduring some kind of intense physical sensation. "I am just doing… 'rehabilitation training'…"
There was a pause, and then a soft, involuntary sound escaped her lips. "…Mmm ah… Stop… please, stop for a moment…"
Tsuru, sitting in the office at Marineford, fell into a brief silence. She held the receiver away from her ear for a second, staring at it. Slowly, the worry on her face faded, replaced by a look that was deeply meaningful and perhaps a little resigned.
"Ahem… Is that so?" Tsuru cleared her throat loudly. "I see. Well, it is good that you are… 'physically' alright then. It is very late today, so I will not interrupt your… 'training.' You continue, and I will contact you tomorrow when you are rested."
With a decisive clack, Tsuru hung up the phone.
In the Fleet Admiral's office, Sengoku looked at Tsuru with confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. "Well? How is Gion? Is she in a dungeon? Is she hurt?"
Tsuru's expression was very subtle, a mixture of relief and awkwardness. "She… should be fine. In fact, she seems to be quite active." She paused, considering her next words carefully. "Perhaps our relationship with Takuro can improve in the future? It seems negotiations are already… proceeding."
Back on the Conqueror, Gion looked blankly at the hung-up Den Den Mushi, her face burning hot.
"What's wrong with Sister Tsuru? Why did she hang up?" she murmured to herself, her mind too hazy to process the misunderstanding.
Meanwhile, Takuro looked down at the stunning beauty beneath him. She looked like a ripe peach, flushed and energetic. He checked his scouter's internal reading—his stamina was far from depleted.
"Never mind that," Takuro said with a grin, tossing the blanket aside. "Let's continue where we left off…"
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