Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
In the Fleet Admiral’s Office.
Sengoku took the hot tea handed to him by the attendant. Despite the steam still curling from the cup, he downed it in a few swigs and handed the empty cup back.
"Another one for me."
Everyone else in the room stared at him in stunned silence.
Seeing their gazes, Sengoku chuckled awkwardly.
"Bit thirsty. Aren’t you all?"
You talked for three straight hours, not even pausing for a break—of course you’re thirsty, you damn old man!
Kong massaged his temples in exasperation.
At first, Sengoku had stuck to the topic, elaborating thoroughly on the "Coin Island Operation," showcasing Marine strategy and strength.
But after ten minutes... the old man completely lost control.
He veered off into nostalgic tales of his early days as a Marine, the hardships he endured to rise through the ranks, the grand vision for the future of the Marines...
It became less of a press briefing and more of a personal TED Talk. Half the audience had left; the rest were fighting to stay awake.
Kong shot Sengoku a sideways glare, then turned to the man sitting cross-legged on the couch—Commodore Darren—his expression softening.
"You did damn well this time, kid."
Lighting a gold-trimmed cigar, Kong beamed.
"Honestly, not even I expected you to pull this off."
It was all too smooth!
The Flying Pirate Fleet that had plagued Marine HQ for years—utterly destroyed, just like that!
If the results weren’t staring him in the face, Kong himself wouldn’t have believed it.
Darren, puffing on his own cigar, smiled modestly.
"All credit goes to Admiral Sengoku’s unwavering support and trust. Without that, I never would’ve had the chance."
"Save the politics for the press, kid!"
Then he turned sharply to Sengoku.
He jabbed a finger in Sengoku’s direction.
"You damn old goat! What the hell were you doing!? That press conference turned into your personal memoir hour!"
"Look at your contribution in this mission! Other than scaring Shiki a little, what did you actually do? If you’d done your job better, Darren wouldn’t have been hurt so badly!"
He tore into Sengoku without mercy, leaving the latter shrinking in his seat.
"Did you hear what the reporters were asking? It’s like you weren’t even there!"
"I—" Sengoku’s face flushed, but he couldn’t muster a defense.
He felt thoroughly wronged.
He was never built for speed or bursts of power—against a nimble opponent like Shiki, it was a miracle he managed to slow him down at all!
If it had been a direct clash, he wouldn’t have lost!
But that damn Shiki kept chasing Darren—what was he supposed to do!?
Even if Garp had been there, it wouldn’t have changed much!
Grumbling, Sengoku muttered in protest.
"His injuries aren’t even that serious. Just a couple of near-fatal wounds. With his monster physique, he’ll be bouncing around in no time..."
"What did you say!?" Kong’s voice shot up.
Sengoku jolted upright, expression snapping to attention.
"I mean, yes, Fleet Admiral, sir! It was absolutely my failure!"
Kong couldn’t help but chuckle, watching Sengoku pretend to behave.
Classic Sengoku—flexible, one might say. Slippery, to be more accurate.
If it had been Zephyr in the hot seat, that stubborn mule would’ve argued back for hours.
Thinking about Zephyr cooped up in the training camp gave Kong another headache.
"Brats, all of them..." he muttered.
Shaking off the irritation, Kong straightened and grew serious.
"I’ve read the full report. You all performed well."
"Now, about the official commendations—no doubt about it—Commodore Darren, the greatest merit belongs to you."
"You’ll be promoted. That’s a certainty."
Darren nodded with a quiet smile.
He could’ve been promoted to Rear Admiral six months ago, but the incident with Dragon had put it on hold.
He’d never cared that much about the title... but still, no one minds climbing the ranks.
At least now, he’d finally catch up with Sakazuki and Borsalino.
No more saluting them.
But just as he was savoring the moment—
"Borsalino, you did well too. You heavily injured King the Wildfire, and during the battle on Coin Island, you repeatedly intercepted Shiki."
Kong turned to the man sitting idly beside him.
"Congratulations, Vice Admiral Borsalino."
Borsalino blinked in mock surprise, raising both hands.
"Well, now that’s unexpected... Don’t you think, Rear Admiral Darren?"
He flashed a sly grin at Darren.
If it’s unexpected, keep it to yourself. Why are you dragging me into this!?
That bastard definitely did that on purpose!
"Yes, Vice Admiral Borsalino," Darren replied through gritted teeth.
Still... the promotion was well-earned.
Despite all his laziness and slick moves, Borsalino always showed up when it mattered, using his Devil Fruit powers to make just enough of an impact to be noticed—yet never too much.
Nobody could say he wasn’t pulling his weight.
But deep down, you always felt... did he even need to be there?
It was an art. And he’d mastered it.
He’d climbed the ranks with this quiet cunning—always just enough, never too much. Among the original three candidates for admiral, he had the most seniority. So it was only natural that he’d be promoted before Sakazuki and Kuzan.
Kong looked at the two exchanging snide jabs and smiled.
He remembered when Garp, Sengoku, and Zephyr were just . Fighting, bickering, sniping at each other—and then suddenly, years had passed, and they were legends.
Now, under their shadow, a new generation was blooming.
It was one of Kong’s few moments of peace as Fleet Admiral.
"And as for the More-More Fruit..."
He glanced at Darren, who immediately sat up straight. Sengoku also perked up.
The value of the More-More Fruit was undeniable. Whoever controlled its fate could use it for great strategic advantage.
As a reward. As a bargaining chip. As a legacy.
"Just as we said during the press conference—Darren will handle its disposition."
Kong’s voice was calm and decisive.
"This meeting is adjourned. I’ll leave the rest to the graduation ceremony next month."