Even though the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, had been dead for over a decade, his influence within the upper ranks of the Marines showed no signs of fading.
Just moments ago, many officers—including members of the Dove faction and those who usually leaned neutral—had opposed provoking the Whitebeard Pirates so rashly.
Yet the instant Fleet Admiral Sengoku revealed Ace's lineage—once it was confirmed that Fire Fist Ace carried the "sinful blood" of the Pirate King himself—even someone as dovish as Aokiji, the dove among doves, raised no objection to Sengoku's decision to publicly execute Ace.
What followed naturally was the planning for the Summit War, with the Whitebeard Pirates as its target. Sengoku was clearly aiming to seize this opportunity to wipe out Whitebeard's crew in one decisive blow.
Whitebeard might not have been the most brutal among the Four Emperors, but his sheer strength and overwhelming influence meant one thing was unavoidable—
The world's strongest man was destined to be a thorn in the Marines' side.
That said, what did any of this have to do with a shameless salary thief like Borsalino?
When the Summit War came, he'd just fire off a few extra laser beams—biu biu biu—and that would more than justify his paycheck.
Ideally, he'd pick a punching bag with decent "feedback," toss in a few lines like "This one is terrifying—if left alive, he'll become a great threat!", and call it a day. Who could possibly accuse him of not pulling his weight then?
"Borsalino… Borsalino!"
What he hadn't expected, however, was that just as he finished mentally preparing for a perfectly slacker-style performance—and even started planning a long vacation with Nami after the war—Fleet Admiral Sengoku, that black-hearted boss, set his sights on him.
Even among the eccentric Marine Admirals, Borsalino—known as the Ageless Admiral—was uniquely bizarre.
He wasn't like Akainu or Aokiji, rigidly clinging to their personal interpretations of justice. Nor was he like Vice Admiral Garp, acting entirely on impulse and openly defying the World Government whenever it suited him.
Well… to be fair, Admiral Kizaru hadn't exactly been a model of obedience either.
Still, most of the time, Borsalino showed at least nominal respect toward the Five Elders and the authority of the World Government.
If one absolutely had to sum him up with a single phrase, the label he often used for himself—salary thief—was surprisingly accurate.
No matter the mission, if three parts of effort would suffice, Borsalino would never contribute even half a part more. Despite possessing strength that subtly surpassed even his fellow Admirals, no one had ever seen him go all out.
Just imagining the familiar sight of Borsalino slacking off on the battlefield again during the Summit War gave Sengoku a headache. After exchanging a glance with Vice Admiral Tsuru, a dangerous thought took root.
And so, he called out to Borsalino, who was already preparing to leave.
"Hmm? Is there something you need, Fleet Admiral Sengoku?"
Borsalino remained genuinely respectful toward Sengoku. After all, the man was well past his prime and still bearing the crushing responsibility of Fleet Admiral.
He'd even secretly dyed his white hair black—just so the rank-and-file wouldn't think their leader was growing old.
"The Summit War will require the participation of the Seven Warlords of the Sea," Sengoku said.
"Considering that the Warlords are an unruly bunch, the Marines need to send someone with enough authority to summon them."
Sengoku could barely suppress the upward curl of his lips.
Every time they were breaking their backs on the front lines, that bastard Borsalino was slacking off in the rear. Now—finally—he'd caught his chance.
The Seven Warlords each controlled one of the major routes of the Grand Line. Under ideal conditions, gathering them all would practically require traversing the entire first half of the Grand Line.
Based on Sengoku's understanding of Borsalino, this workload landed at the most uncomfortable possible point. If it were any harder or more troublesome, Borsalino would absolutely find some way to dump it on someone else—or drag his feet indefinitely.
"Ah… this…"
Just as Sengoku anticipated, a task that was neither trivial nor overwhelming put Borsalino in an awkward position.
By the time Borsalino came up with a suitable excuse to wriggle out of it, Sengoku was already gone.
Damn it.
I'm swapping his hair dye for green next time.
"Mr. Borsalino, the meeting's over. It's time to start working now, right?"
Nami pulled out a thick stack of schedules—every page packed with matters that required the personal attention of a Marine Admiral.
From small things like receiving commendation reports for distinguished subordinates, to major incidents such as dealing with mutinies in Marine branches—
The densely packed list made Borsalino's scalp tingle. He nearly developed trypophobia on the spot.
"This is way too much… Just help me make a list first, little Nami. I'll take care of the urgent stuff…"
Borsalino rubbed his forehead. Even a salary thief couldn't get away with doing nothing. He'd treat it as a favor to Sengoku's hair dye.
"But this is the list."
Nami replied darkly.
If Borsalino hadn't been constantly slacking off and shirking duties, this much work wouldn't have piled up in the first place.
Borsalino froze mid–forehead rub.
Based on years of professional slacking experience, this workload would take at least half a month to clear.
"Little Nami… can I trust you completely?"
Suddenly, Borsalino placed both hands on her shoulders.
He stared straight into her eyes without blinking, as if trying to read something from the reflection in her pupils.
Though she'd been by his side for nearly two years, this was the first time Nami had ever seen the Ageless Admiral look so serious.
The Marine predecessor who pioneered Life Return would probably never have imagined that someone would learn it purely to preserve their looks—just to flirt with young girls.
Faced with Borsalino's unabashed gaze, Nami didn't know what she thought of, but her cheeks flushed faintly. She instinctively pushed him away.
Calm down!
Don't fall for it!
Sure, he saved Bellemere.
Sure, he's handsome.
But he's still a middle-aged man in his dozens!
In that instant, it felt like two tiny Namis popped up in her head.
One with angel wings, enthusiastically listing Borsalino's virtues.
The other with devil horns, repeatedly telling her to stay rational.
"O–Of course you can!"
Nami took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
This was Marine Headquarters, after all. She absolutely couldn't let him say something outrageous here.
"Good. Then I'll leave all of this to you. I'm off to carry out the mission Fleet Admiral Sengoku assigned me!"
With a satisfied nod, Borsalino stuffed the entire thick stack of schedules into Nami's arms.
Honestly, where else would she find a superior as dedicated to cultivating subordinates as him?
If she didn't believe it, she could always ask Akainu's aide—chances are, he only ever got stuck with chores like cleaning the office.
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