"Why don't we simply stop protecting them? Why do we still have to shield such monsters?"
Takuro's soul-piercing question struck through the transponder snail like the sharpest blade, stabbing precisely into the softest, most vulnerable part of Vice Admiral Tsuru's heart. As the "Great Staff Officer" of the Marines, Tsuru was a woman who had weathered countless storms and devised strategies for wars that shaped the era. Yet, in this moment, she felt a suffocating pain in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but her throat felt blocked, as if an invisible hand were choking the words out of her. She found herself unable to utter a single syllable in defense of her organization.
She remained silent because she knew the truth better than anyone else. In this vast ocean, there were very few people who truly approved of the Celestial Dragons and their continued existence. These so-called "gods," who arrogantly proclaimed themselves the "descendants of the creators," had secretly committed atrocities that would make even the vilest devils in hell blush with shame. In fact, calling their actions "secret" was no longer accurate. Many of their outrageous acts were performed in broad daylight, displayed proudly for the world to fear.
Throughout Tsuru's long and decorated military career, she had witnessed too much darkness. The Celestial Dragons regarded all races that were not part of their bloodline as mere "commoners" or sub-humans to be trampled upon at will. They would, on a simple whim, shoot and kill innocent civilians in the streets for entertainment, laughing as lives were extinguished. Even more outrageous were the events of the past. Years ago, the World Nobles used to hold a terrifying "game" known as the "Indigenous People Slaughter Competition" in various parts of the world.
Every $3$ years, these "gods" would randomly select a country from among the non-affiliated nations of the World Government. They would completely blockade the island, trapping everyone inside, and then hunt the local population for sport. They gained points by competing in a killing spree to win so-called "superiority rewards." This horrific atrocity was only forcibly stopped $38$ years ago by the world-shaking "God Valley" incident.
Tsuru remembered it clearly. At that time, the Rocks Pirates, who were the most dangerous crew on the sea, raided the island chosen as the latest competition venue. Those high-and-mighty "gods" had their throats pressed by the cold steel of pirate blades for the first time in history. Each one of them had been scared out of their wits, weeping and begging for the lives they usually discarded so easily. From that day on, they became somewhat restrained in their public hunting games. However, Tsuru knew clearly that this was by no means because they had turned over a new leaf or found a conscience. It was merely because they had been beaten into submission by fear.
Since then, they had turned to more "safe" and "civilized" ways to satisfy their twisted desires. They poured their vast wealth into supporting the illegal slave trade on the Sabaody Archipelago. They instructed slave traders to capture people of various races—Giants, Fish-Men, Minks, and Humans—from all over the world. They forced these proud people to wear iron collars that could explode at any moment, blowing their heads off if they resisted. They branded them with the "Hoof of the Soaring Dragon," an indelible mark that stripped them of their humanity and dignity.
At this thought, Vice Admiral Tsuru's fists involuntarily clenched at her sides. In her honest opinion, the actions of the Celestial Dragons were worse than those of pigs and dogs. They deserved to be cast down to the eighteenth level of hell for their sins. She took a deep breath, trying desperately to find a reason for herself, and for the entire Marine organization, to continue persevering in this thankless job.
"The situation is not as simple as you make it out to be, kid," Tsuru finally said, her voice heavy. "The Marines exist for a specific purpose. We exist to maintain the stability of the entire world, not to judge our masters."
"Stability?" Takuro interrupted her instantly, his voice dripping with amusement. He casually proposed a solution that, if spoken by anyone else, would be considered insanity. "That is a simple fix. How about this, old woman? You Marines might as well just follow me from now on. I will go and take down that damn World Government and become the new ruler of this world! Then, you and your fleet can help me maintain the 'stability' of this New World where I call the shots. How about it?"
He paused for a moment, and even through the transponder snail, Tsuru could sense the absolute confidence radiating from him. It was the confidence of a warrior who knew no limit to his strength. "I am sure you Marines can see the current situation in North Blue," Takuro continued. "If I were to rule this world, I would undoubtedly do a million times better than that bunch of fat, useless trash sitting in the Holy Land. What do you say?"
At first hearing, Tsuru thought it was simply a madman's ravings. But upon careful consideration, she was shocked to find that her heart, which was supposed to be filled with "Absolute Justice," was inexplicably stirred by the offer. If Takuro's strength was truly powerful enough to suppress all opposition—if his Power Level and Haki were truly as high as the reports suggested—then for him to rule this world might not be entirely unacceptable. In fact, it might even be better.
Based on the Marine intelligence department's analysis of Takuro's behavior over the years, this man was strange. Apart from an extreme, almost Saiyan-like fondness for women, incredible amounts of food, and intense fighting, he seemed to have no other bad habits. He did not oppress the weak. In this chaotic Grand Line, compared to pirates who often massacred villages and destroyed islands for treasure, Takuro's actions could almost be called those of a "saint."
This thought sent a pang of guilt through Vice Admiral Tsuru's heart. Was she really considering treason? Soon, the logic of "reason" and "order" that had been ingrained in her heart for decades regained the upper hand. She shook her head violently, trying to clear the dangerous thoughts. "No! Absolutely not! This... this is far too reckless! You cannot simply decide to rule the world!"
"Is that so?" Takuro sounded unfazed, as if he expected her hesitation. "Then how about this. After you go back to headquarters, draw up a detailed 'battle plan' for me. Who to kill, who to eliminate... just make a list of the bad guys and call me when it is ready."
Vice Admiral Tsuru was utterly speechless. Me? Make a hit list? Is that what he thinks I meant? she thought frantically. The World Government is a colossal entity that has ruled this world for $800$ years! The hidden depth behind it is unfathomable, with many secrets that even we Marines do not know! How can you just overthrow it just like that?
"I see," Takuro said, interpreting her silence correctly. He looked at the transponder snail, which was mimicking her expression of 'you are dreaming,' and laughed. "So, you do not quite believe I can do it, do you?" His voice dropped an octave, becoming serious. "In that case, when I return from Fish-Man Island... I will first go and 'take a look around' that damn Holy Land, Mary Geoise. Then, we will talk."
"Hey! Wait! Takuro-sama! You cannot just—" Tsuru wanted to shout more, to warn him, but she only heard a sharp click. The connection was severed. The transponder snail went to sleep, its eyes closing as it was directly hung up.
The scene shifted to the Fleet Admiral's office in Marineford. The room was tense. Tsuru stared blankly at the silent transponder snail on the desk, speechless for a long time. Sunlight streamed through the large window, illuminating her complex expression. The seagull atop her Marine cap seemed to droop slightly.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku, who had been watching from the side with his arms crossed, could no longer hold back his anxiety. "How is it?! Tsuru!" he barked, slamming his hand on the desk. "Did that guy Takuro state his conditions?! What does he want in exchange for Vice Admiral Gion's return?!"
Tsuru slowly turned her head. Her gaze was distant, as if she were looking at something far beyond the walls of the office. She replied in a tone full of absurdity and disbelief.
"...He said..." Tsuru started, her voice barely a whisper. "...He wants to take us, together..."
Sengoku leaned in, confused. "Take us where?"
"...To fight the World Government," she finished.
Sengoku froze. "...???"
The office fell into a deathly silence. It was so quiet that one could hear the dust settling. Sengoku's mouth hung open, his expression shifting rapidly from confusion to shock, finally settling on pure disbelief. His round glasses nearly slid off his nose.
"He... he really said that?" Sengoku asked with difficulty, his voice slightly distorted by the sheer ridiculousness of the statement.
Tsuru nodded heavily. She began recounting the entire conversation to Sengoku in detail. She explained Takuro's view on the Celestial Dragons, his offer to lead the Marines, and his threat to visit Mary Geoise. As she spoke, Sengoku's face grew increasingly grim. The lines on his forehead deepened.
When he heard Takuro describe the Celestial Dragons' atrocities, Sengoku's fists involuntarily clenched. As the Fleet Admiral, he knew these facts better than anyone. He dealt with the clean-up of the Nobles' messes every single day. But he also understood the importance of maintaining the status quo better than anyone. If the balance tipped, the world would plunge into chaos.
"This madman..." Sengoku murmured, rubbing his temples. "He has no idea what is hidden behind the World Government... He thinks physical strength alone is enough."
"Perhaps he does know," Tsuru suddenly said, surprising herself. "Perhaps it is precisely because he knows the truth that he is so confident."
The two old soldiers exchanged glances, both seeing deep worry in each other's eyes. Takuro's appearance was like a giant rock thrown into a calm lake. It was destined to stir up a massive storm in this world, one that might wash away the history of the last $800$ years. And they, the Marines, stood right at the forefront of this storm.
"Why don't we simply stop protecting them? Why do we still have to shield such monsters?"
Takuro's soul-piercing question struck through the transponder snail like the sharpest blade, stabbing precisely into the softest, most vulnerable part of Vice Admiral Tsuru's heart. As the "Great Staff Officer" of the Marines, Tsuru was a woman who had weathered countless storms and devised strategies for wars that shaped the era. Yet, in this moment, she felt a suffocating pain in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but her throat felt blocked, as if an invisible hand were choking the words out of her. She found herself unable to utter a single syllable in defense of her organization.
She remained silent because she knew the truth better than anyone else. In this vast ocean, there were very few people who truly approved of the Celestial Dragons and their continued existence. These so-called "gods," who arrogantly proclaimed themselves the "descendants of the creators," had secretly committed atrocities that would make even the vilest devils in hell blush with shame. In fact, calling their actions "secret" was no longer accurate. Many of their outrageous acts were performed in broad daylight, displayed proudly for the world to fear.
Throughout Tsuru's long and decorated military career, she had witnessed too much darkness. The Celestial Dragons regarded all races that were not part of their bloodline as mere "commoners" or sub-humans to be trampled upon at will. They would, on a simple whim, shoot and kill innocent civilians in the streets for entertainment, laughing as lives were extinguished. Even more outrageous were the events of the past. Years ago, the World Nobles used to hold a terrifying "game" known as the "Indigenous People Slaughter Competition" in various parts of the world.
Every $3$ years, these "gods" would randomly select a country from among the non-affiliated nations of the World Government. They would completely blockade the island, trapping everyone inside, and then hunt the local population for sport. They gained points by competing in a killing spree to win so-called "superiority rewards." This horrific atrocity was only forcibly stopped $38$ years ago by the world-shaking "God Valley" incident.
Tsuru remembered it clearly. At that time, the Rocks Pirates, who were the most dangerous crew on the sea, raided the island chosen as the latest competition venue. Those high-and-mighty "gods" had their throats pressed by the cold steel of pirate blades for the first time in history. Each one of them had been scared out of their wits, weeping and begging for the lives they usually discarded so easily. From that day on, they became somewhat restrained in their public hunting games. However, Tsuru knew clearly that this was by no means because they had turned over a new leaf or found a conscience. It was merely because they had been beaten into submission by fear.
Since then, they had turned to more "safe" and "civilized" ways to satisfy their twisted desires. They poured their vast wealth into supporting the illegal slave trade on the Sabaody Archipelago. They instructed slave traders to capture people of various races—Giants, Fish-Men, Minks, and Humans—from all over the world. They forced these proud people to wear iron collars that could explode at any moment, blowing their heads off if they resisted. They branded them with the "Hoof of the Soaring Dragon," an indelible mark that stripped them of their humanity and dignity.
At this thought, Vice Admiral Tsuru's fists involuntarily clenched at her sides. In her honest opinion, the actions of the Celestial Dragons were worse than those of pigs and dogs. They deserved to be cast down to the eighteenth level of hell for their sins. She took a deep breath, trying desperately to find a reason for herself, and for the entire Marine organization, to continue persevering in this thankless job.
"The situation is not as simple as you make it out to be, kid," Tsuru finally said, her voice heavy. "The Marines exist for a specific purpose. We exist to maintain the stability of the entire world, not to judge our masters."
"Stability?" Takuro interrupted her instantly, his voice dripping with amusement. He casually proposed a solution that, if spoken by anyone else, would be considered insanity. "That is a simple fix. How about this, old woman? You Marines might as well just follow me from now on. I will go and take down that damn World Government and become the new ruler of this world! Then, you and your fleet can help me maintain the 'stability' of this New World where I call the shots. How about it?"
He paused for a moment, and even through the transponder snail, Tsuru could sense the absolute confidence radiating from him. It was the confidence of a warrior who knew no limit to his strength. "I am sure you Marines can see the current situation in North Blue," Takuro continued. "If I were to rule this world, I would undoubtedly do a million times better than that bunch of fat, useless trash sitting in the Holy Land. What do you say?"
At first hearing, Tsuru thought it was simply a madman's ravings. But upon careful consideration, she was shocked to find that her heart, which was supposed to be filled with "Absolute Justice," was inexplicably stirred by the offer. If Takuro's strength was truly powerful enough to suppress all opposition—if his Power Level and Haki were truly as high as the reports suggested—then for him to rule this world might not be entirely unacceptable. In fact, it might even be better.
Based on the Marine intelligence department's analysis of Takuro's behavior over the years, this man was strange. Apart from an extreme, almost Saiyan-like fondness for women, incredible amounts of food, and intense fighting, he seemed to have no other bad habits. He did not oppress the weak. In this chaotic Grand Line, compared to pirates who often massacred villages and destroyed islands for treasure, Takuro's actions could almost be called those of a "saint."
This thought sent a pang of guilt through Vice Admiral Tsuru's heart. Was she really considering treason? Soon, the logic of "reason" and "order" that had been ingrained in her heart for decades regained the upper hand. She shook her head violently, trying to clear the dangerous thoughts. "No! Absolutely not! This... this is far too reckless! You cannot simply decide to rule the world!"
"Is that so?" Takuro sounded unfazed, as if he expected her hesitation. "Then how about this. After you go back to headquarters, draw up a detailed 'battle plan' for me. Who to kill, who to eliminate... just make a list of the bad guys and call me when it is ready."
Vice Admiral Tsuru was utterly speechless. Me? Make a hit list? Is that what he thinks I meant? she thought frantically. The World Government is a colossal entity that has ruled this world for $800$ years! The hidden depth behind it is unfathomable, with many secrets that even we Marines do not know! How can you just overthrow it just like that?
"I see," Takuro said, interpreting her silence correctly. He looked at the transponder snail, which was mimicking her expression of 'you are dreaming,' and laughed. "So, you do not quite believe I can do it, do you?" His voice dropped an octave, becoming serious. "In that case, when I return from Fish-Man Island... I will first go and 'take a look around' that damn Holy Land, Mary Geoise. Then, we will talk."
"Hey! Wait! Takuro-sama! You cannot just—" Tsuru wanted to shout more, to warn him, but she only heard a sharp click. The connection was severed. The transponder snail went to sleep, its eyes closing as it was directly hung up.
The scene shifted to the Fleet Admiral's office in Marineford. The room was tense. Tsuru stared blankly at the silent transponder snail on the desk, speechless for a long time. Sunlight streamed through the large window, illuminating her complex expression. The seagull atop her Marine cap seemed to droop slightly.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku, who had been watching from the side with his arms crossed, could no longer hold back his anxiety. "How is it?! Tsuru!" he barked, slamming his hand on the desk. "Did that guy Takuro state his conditions?! What does he want in exchange for Vice Admiral Gion's return?!"
Tsuru slowly turned her head. Her gaze was distant, as if she were looking at something far beyond the walls of the office. She replied in a tone full of absurdity and disbelief.
"...He said..." Tsuru started, her voice barely a whisper. "...He wants to take us, together..."
Sengoku leaned in, confused. "Take us where?"
"...To fight the World Government," she finished.
Sengoku froze. "...???"
The office fell into a deathly silence. It was so quiet that one could hear the dust settling. Sengoku's mouth hung open, his expression shifting rapidly from confusion to shock, finally settling on pure disbelief. His round glasses nearly slid off his nose.
"He... he really said that?" Sengoku asked with difficulty, his voice slightly distorted by the sheer ridiculousness of the statement.
Tsuru nodded heavily. She began recounting the entire conversation to Sengoku in detail. She explained Takuro's view on the Celestial Dragons, his offer to lead the Marines, and his threat to visit Mary Geoise. As she spoke, Sengoku's face grew increasingly grim. The lines on his forehead deepened.
When he heard Takuro describe the Celestial Dragons' atrocities, Sengoku's fists involuntarily clenched. As the Fleet Admiral, he knew these facts better than anyone. He dealt with the clean-up of the Nobles' messes every single day. But he also understood the importance of maintaining the status quo better than anyone. If the balance tipped, the world would plunge into chaos.
"This madman..." Sengoku murmured, rubbing his temples. "He has no idea what is hidden behind the World Government... He thinks physical strength alone is enough."
"Perhaps he does know," Tsuru suddenly said, surprising herself. "Perhaps it is precisely because he knows the truth that he is so confident."
The two old soldiers exchanged glances, both seeing deep worry in each other's eyes. Takuro's appearance was like a giant rock thrown into a calm lake. It was destined to stir up a massive storm in this world, one that might wash away the history of the last $800$ years. And they, the Marines, stood right at the forefront of this storm.
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