The man stood outside the door for a long, excruciatingly long, while.
He was a person of immense patience, a man whose entire career was built on stoic observation and precise, sudden action.
Yet, as the minutes ticked by, and the passionate, muffled cries from within the room continued, his eye began to twitch.
Vice Admiral Garp's right-hand man, Bogart, had faced down emperors, weathered storms that could tear islands apart, and stood unflinching on the front lines of the world's most brutal wars.
But this... this was a new kind of trial.
He checked his pocket watch, his expressionless face betraying nothing, even as his mind reeled.
He was on a timetable.
He was supposed to be accompanying Vice Admiral Garp to visit his grandson in Foosha Village, a simple "milk run" as the Vice Admiral called it.
But first, he had to complete this... favor... for Vice Admiral Burns.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the room fell silent.
Bogart waited another full sixty seconds, straightened his tie, and only then did he raise his gloved hand and knock firmly on the door.
"Is Lieutenant Commander Lancelot present?" his voice was a crisp, professional baritone.
"???"
The door swung open, revealing Lancelot, who was clad only in a pair of uniform trousers.
His expression was one of genuine puzzlement. He had never heard this voice before.
The moment he saw the visitor, however, Lancelot froze.
The man standing before him was completely unexpected.
A perfectly tailored black suit, a matching top hat, and, draped over his shoulders, the unmistakable Justice cloak of a high-ranking Marine officer.
'This... this is Bogart,' Lancelot thought, his mind racing.
'Garp's right-hand man. One of the most skilled swordsmen in the entire Marines. What is he doing in the East Blue? And why, of all people, is he specifically looking for a mere Lieutenant Commander like me?'
"Who is it, master...?"
A new voice, husky and laced with contentment, drifted from the room.
Lina sauntered into view, wrapped loosely in one of Lancelot's bedsheets, her hair a wild, tangled mess, and her face still flushed with a post-passion glow.
The moment Bogart saw Lina, his famously stoic expression faltered.
He was stunned.
Then, when his gaze shifted back to Lancelot, his expression turned... odd.
It was a complex mixture of exasperation, disapproval, and a faint, almost imperceptible, flicker of recognition.
"You certainly have your father's luck with women," Bogart stated flatly.
With that, he presented Lancelot with a heavy, lead-lined box.
"Vice Admiral Burns asked me to deliver this."
Lancelot took the box, his heart hammering.
He opened the lid.
Inside, resting on a velvet cushion, was a single, bizarrely-patterned fruit.
It was a deep orange, covered in swirling black stripes that mimicked a tiger's pelt, and its stem was twisted into a tight corkscrew.
"Thank you," Lancelot said, his voice respectful. "Please pass my gratitude to... Vice Admiral Burns."
Bogart waved his hand dismissively, his duty done.
"I owed your father a favor from our time at Headquarters. Now we are even."
With that, he turned on his heel and left.
It was inappropriate, given his position and his allegiance to Garp, to be seen associating too closely with a known political player like Lancelot.
He had come to the East Blue with Garp, and that was also precisely why Burns had sought him out for this delivery.
Who could be safer or more trustworthy than Garp's own ship? Who in their right mind would dare to rob a vessel under the personal command of "Garp the Fist"?
As Bogart's footsteps faded, Lina's gaze fixed on the box.
"This is..."
Lina was no fool.
She knew what a high-ranking Marine looked like.
Anything delivered personally by someone of that stature, someone who commanded such palpable authority, had to be extraordinary.
She already had a guess forming in her mind, a wild, impossible hope that made her heart pound and her knees feel weak.
The excitement nearly lifted her off her feet.
Lancelot closed the lid and handed the entire box to her.
"This," he said, "is the Zoan-Type: Model, White Tiger Fruit. Originally, my father prepared it for me... but now, it's yours."
For a moment, Lina simply stared, her eyes wide with disbelief.
This was it.
The key.
The answer to a lifetime of weakness and despair.
Without a word, she stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around Lancelot's neck, and gave him a deep, passionate kiss that tasted of gratitude, promises, and a fierce, newfound devotion.
They only parted when she was breathless, gasping for air.
Then, with trembling hands, Lina took the fruit.
She looked at it, her expression a mix of fear and awe.
Without any further hesitation, she bit into it.
A wave of indescribable, foul-tasting bitterness flooded her mouth, and she gagged, forcing herself to swallow the large, repugnant bite.
She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation... and then, it began.
"Nghh... ah!"
A jolt of raw, primal energy shot through her.
It felt like fire was pouring into her veins.
Fur, thick and white with black stripes, began to spread rapidly across her skin.
Her bones cracked and reshaped, her muscles swelling with a power she had only ever dreamed of.
She transformed, collapsing to her hands and knees as she became a massive, beautiful, and terrifying white tiger.
A low, powerful growl rumbled in her chest, a sound that was both alien and perfectly natural.
Finally, with a surge of willpower, she pushed herself upright, shifting into her hybrid human-beast form.
She was taller, stronger, her hands now tipped with razor-sharp claws, a long, striped tail lashing behind her.
Her senses were explosive—she could smell the salt from the harbor, hear the individual conversations of marines on the base, and feel the raw, thrumming power in her new limbs.
With a powerful push from her legs, she shot forward, a white-and-black blur.
She didn't even go through the door; she burst straight through the wall of the room into the small courtyard outside.
BOOM!
Needing to test this new strength, she unleashed a visceral roar and delivered a single, clawed punch to a thick tree in the center of the yard, a tree that was easily half a meter in diameter.
There was a sound like a cannon shot, and the sheer, concussive force snapped the ancient tree clean in half, sending the top half crashing to the ground.
The power... the power... granted by the Zoan-Type White Tiger Fruit was undeniable.
"Wuuu... hic..."
Lina froze, staring at her claws, at the splintered wood, at the devastation she had wrought with a single, casual blow.
Then, her shoulders began to shake.
Tears, hot and heavy, began streaming down her face.
Despite her exceptional, genius-level talent for swordsmanship, her laughably frail body had shackled her.
No one could truly understand the deep, biting despair of having the mind of a grandmaster trapped in the body of a brittle doll.
And now, those shackles were gone.
Lancelot, having calmly walked out of the new hole in his wall, patted her new, furry rear.
"Alright, alright. It's all in the past now. Without that frail body holding you back, your swordsmanship will finally progress by leaps and bounds. You have the knowledge; now you have the power to match."
Lina turned, her hybrid face a mask of tears and joy, and wrapped her powerful arms around Lancelot, burying her face in his chest.
"Then... let me properly repay you... my master..." she purred, her intentions clear.
Lancelot chuckled and firmly swatted her hand away as it began to wander.
"Enough. We'll stop here for today. There will be plenty of opportunities for... repayment... later. For now, get dressed. Gather all the supplies we've prepared and have them loaded onto our ship. We sail within the hour."
"Yes, Master!"
Through their time together, Lina had learned that when Lancelot gave an order, he meant it.
.....
Half an hour later, Lancelot stood on the bow of the Dreadnought Battleship Saber.
The ship, now scrubbed clean and flying the Marine insignia, looked more imposing than ever.
Behind him stood his new command: Lina, now clad in a practical Marine uniform that did little to hide her transformed, powerful physique; Gin, his face impassive, looking every bit the stoic enforcer; and Johnson, vibrating with nervous excitement, holding a clipboard.
Also assembled on the deck were the fifty marines who had originally been under Lancelot's command in Loguetown.
He had been forced to take them; the Saber was simply too massive.
A handful of people couldn't possibly operate a warship of this class alone.
One of the fifty men stepped forward, saluting crisply.
He was older, his face lined with experience, and his uniform bore the stripes of a Petty Officer.
"Lieutenant Commander Lancelot, sir. All initial supplies are loaded. We just need our destination."
This man was Daniel, Lancelot's former second-in-command.
Lancelot unfolded a map of the East Blue.
"Syrup Village," he stated.
Daniel scanned the map, his brow furrowing in calculation.
"Sir, from Loguetown to Syrup Village, our route will pass thirteen islands. Given our current supplies, we'll need to restock once along the way. We can choose either Bro Island, which is a peaceful trade hub, or... we can stop at Black Thorns Island."
After a pause, he added, "But, sir... I recommend Black Thorns Island."
Lancelot raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Oh? And why is that, Petty Officer?"
Daniel met his commander's gaze. "Because, sir, Black Thorns is one of the most chaotic, pirate-infested islands in this quadrant. It's a den of scum. If you want to earn merits... and a reputation for your new command... it's an excellent choice."
Lancelot looked at Daniel for a long moment and then laughed.
"It seems like you're aiming for a promotion to Lieutenant, Daniel."
Daniel didn't hide his intentions.
His expression was one of grim determination.
"I've been stuck at the rank of Petty Officer for five years, sir. I'm already forty-five. If I don't get promoted soon... I'm afraid I'll never have another chance to advance."
"Sigh..." Lancelot let out a sympathetic sigh, his expression turning emotional.
"Without connections or backing, even with achievements, promotions are hard to come by. The system is... flawed."
Then, his entire demeanor shifted.
He straightened, and his voice boomed across the deck, filled with a new, charismatic authority.
"However, that changes. Starting from now, I will be your backing. As long as you deliver results, as long as you show me loyalty and strength... I'm not just talking about a Lieutenant's rank. Even the position of an East Blue base commander... I can fight for it for you."
"Really... sir?"
Daniel and the fifty marines were utterly shocked.
This was a promise no other officer had ever dared to make.
This was a path to a future they thought was impossible.
"Of course," Lancelot said, his smile sharp.
Daniel and the fifty marines exchanged glances, their faces lit with a new, fervent hope.
In that instant, their loyalty was sealed.
Finally, as one, they all saluted Lancelot.
"We pledge our lives to serve you, Lieutenant Commander Lancelot!"
Lancelot nodded, satisfied.
From the side, Gin and Lina exchanged a look.
They were both intelligent, and they both recognized what had just happened.
This man wasn't just skilled at boosting morale.
He was a master at winning hearts, at building a loyal faction from the ground up.
As long as Daniel did get that promotion, these fifty marines would follow Lancelot into hell itself.
They would become his true inner circle.
Lancelot walked to the very bow of the ship, the wind whipping his cloak.
He raised his hand with great authority: "Set sail!"
This time, everyone on deck, from Lina to Gin to the newest marine, responded in a single, unified roar.
"AYE, SIR!"
The massive warship began to move, its engines and sails working in concert, swiftly leaving Loguetown's harbor.
....
After the Dreadnought Saber had vanished over the horizon, Smoker and Bogart slowly emerged from the shadow of a warehouse, watching the direction Lancelot had left.
Bogart raised an eyebrow.
"That kid... does he really have the decent strength you claimed he does? And you're certain he values civilians?"
Smoker nodded, taking a long drag from his cigars.
"Not just that," he grumbled. "That kid's cunning is impressive. He was faced with an unwinnable hostage situation and immediately thought of a way to turn it around. More importantly, he acts decisively. Once he has an idea, he executes it without hesitation. With... proper nurturing... he'll achieve great things in the future."
Bogart filed this information away.
"Interesting... No wonder Burns went to such lengths to secure that Devil Fruit for him. It seems they have high expectations."
At the same time, he thought to himself, Someone who values civilians highly... that means he must not be truly aligned with the 'Absolute Justice' faction or the Celestial Dragons' dogs. Perhaps... he could be swayed to our side.
Smoker then looked at Bogart, his gaze sharp.
"Isn't it inappropriate for you to be delivering things to him like this? After all, he has deep ties to the Holy Land through his father."
Bogart adjusted his hat, his face unreadable.
"It's fine. I reported the favor to Fleet Admiral Sengoku and Vice Admiral Garp beforehand. Besides, it was just delivering something. You saw—after delivering it, I immediately distanced myself. I didn't even give the kid a chance to latch onto me. My business here is done."