A rusted, colossal anchor rose slowly from the water, dripping seafoam in shimmering arcs as it broke the surface—its chain clattering through the air with a heavy, grinding rhythm.
The setting sun cast long shadows across the battleships, their silhouettes stretching far into the golden horizon.
After a rather undignified shouting match with Zephyr, Sengoku had finally wrestled away custody of Darren.
He had Darren transferred to the cabin aboard his own Marine battleship, ordered the attending doctor to treat his injuries, and then turned his head to call out toward the distinctive dog-headed battleship bobbing beside them.
"Hey, Garp. You sure you're not heading back to HQ?"
Garp waved a hand carelessly, cheeks stuffed with doughnuts, a wide grin splitting his face.
"Nah. Just got word—turns out that kid Douglas Bullet, the one you and Sakazuki were hunting? He's joined the Roger Pirates."
"I'd better look into it. Can't have Roger getting any stronger now, can we?"
At those words, Sengoku blinked.
Right. He'd nearly forgotten about that.
Douglas Bullet—the same boy who'd been captured alongside Darren by Kaido. Yet when they'd rescued Darren, Bullet had been nowhere to be found.
He'd need to interrogate that brat later.
"Alright. Be careful out there," Sengoku replied.
He didn't try to talk Garp out of it.
As comrades of many campaigns, he knew better than anyone—once Garp set his mind to something, there was no changing it.
And honestly, Roger's strength... among all Marines, only Garp could realistically counter him.
Sengoku still didn't measure up. Steel Bone Kong might, but the old man had long since stepped away from the front lines.
As Garp's dog-headed battleship sailed off into the golden light, leaving a long wake behind it, Sengoku let out a weary breath.
"Return to headquarters."
He gave the order casually, turning with an exaggerated roll of his eyes toward Zephyr, who had taken up residence uninvited aboard his ship.
"I swear, Zephyr, don't you have your own battleship? What are you doing on mine?"
Zephyr stood with arms crossed, glaring suspiciously.
"Hmph. Like hell I'm falling for that trick. You're just trying to get rid of me so you can bond with Darren in private."
Veins popped on Sengoku's forehead.
"I have a medical team onboard, damn it! And more comfortable cabins!"
Zephyr sniffed derisively.
"Yeah, yeah. We get it. Admiral-level luxuries. No need to show off."
You were an admiral too! You're the one who stepped down—of course your ship got downgraded! What do you want from me!?
One of his temples twitched violently.
Everyone around him was either irresponsible or retired. All the heavy lifting got dumped on him.
When nothing goes wrong, he's "The Resourceful General." When things blow up? Suddenly he's just "the idiot in charge."
Sengoku felt utterly exhausted.
Honestly, let it all burn.
Choosing to ignore Zephyr—who, after too many days spent goofing off with Garp, was now half-corrupted—Sengoku stormed toward the cabin in a huff.
Zephyr, of course, followed close behind.
"How is Darren's condition?"
Inside the cabin, Sengoku glanced first at the IV-drip-hung figure of the sleeping Marine, then at the delicate girl in a kimono seated quietly at his bedside, never leaving his side. Finally, his eyes turned to the attending physician.
"Rear Admiral Darren's constitution is unlike anything I've seen in all my decades of practice," the bespectacled doctor murmured with admiration.
"Every ten minutes or so, his injuries show significant improvement. It's borderline miraculous."
He looked at Darren like one would a priceless, living artifact.
"You needn't worry, Admiral. At this rate, he'll make a full recovery in a day or two."
Sengoku and Zephyr both sighed in relief.
From being tortured by Kaido, to barely escaping the Beasts Pirates, and finally clashing with Whitebeard himself—it was a miracle the brat had survived at all.
What Darren had endured in under ten days, most people wouldn't survive in a lifetime.
And while they trusted his strength, even they had feared there might be lasting damage.
"...But what's with his current state?"
Zephyr frowned at Darren's hollowed cheeks and withered frame.
Sengoku mirrored the concern.
The doctor answered calmly:
"This is the result of extreme physical and mental overexertion."
He adjusted his glasses and continued carefully.
"I've already administered nutrient injections. With proper rest, he should stabilize within a few days."
Sengoku and Zephyr exchanged glances.
"That's impossible," Zephyr protested.
"I know that boy's body better than anyone. He could drag a warship with his bare hands and sprint ten kilometers with a ton on his back without breaking a sweat."
"That kind of endurance doesn't just dry up."
Sengoku nodded in agreement.
He'd witnessed Darren's absurd stamina firsthand in the North Blue.
Noble receptions, endless banquets, night after night of drinking—yet Darren never even looked hungover. Always a cigarette in one hand, liquor in the other.
Fatigue? Not a trace.
"Could it be hidden injuries from the prison or battle?"
He asked with a trace of worry.
The doctor hesitated.
"Normally, no. This isn't the result of combat."
"Then what is it?" Zephyr pressed.
The doctor hesitated a second time... then mumbled awkwardly:
"...Excessive indulgence."
They slowly turned toward the soft, elegant girl at Darren's bedside.
Toki blinked at the sudden stares. Confused at first—then her face went crimson as the realization hit her.
She leapt to her feet, flustered beyond belief.
"We didn't... I mean, Mr. Darren and I—nothing happened!"
Her voice faded into a mortified whisper.
But her heart screamed: There's no way I can explain this properly...!
Watching her, the doctor simply adjusted his glasses with a knowing look.
Zephyr's lip twitched.
He looked at the beautiful girl, then at the skeletal Darren—and finally grunted:
"Ahem... Young man, you need to show some restraint."
Toki turned bright red, her whole body stiffening.
A pure-hearted girl ... corrupted by that damn brat!
Sengoku felt a mix of helplessness and responsibility swell in his chest.
He forced a kind smile and approached her gently.
"It's alright. I'll make sure that Darren takes proper responsibility. Will you come with us to headquarters?"
"Yes!!" Zephyr boomed, pounding his chest with righteous fury.
"If that little bastard dares let you down—I'll be the first to break his legs!"
Faced with such forceful sincerity, Toki had no choice but to nod meekly.
Seeing her shy and obedient response, Sengoku and Zephyr both felt a rush of fatherly instinct.
One was a lifelong bachelor. The other had lost his family long ago.
And now, as Marines, they saw this delicate girl—and couldn't help but feel protective.
And Darren, damn him, that brilliant but shameless scoundrel—how dare he?!
Thinking back on all his "colorful" history, Sengoku and Zephyr both teared up in indignation.
They wanted to drag that boy out of bed and beat some virtue into him.
With a harrumph, Sengoku turned back to the crew, his voice sharp.
"Everything you heard in here is top secret! Not a word to anyone! That's an order!"
The gathered Marines snapped to attention, nodding furiously.
"Especially you, Borsalino!!"
Sengoku turned and bellowed toward the hallway.
Borsalino raised both hands with a lazy grin.