Marine Headquarters — Fleet Admiral’s Office.
Steel Bone Kong’s fist crashed through the heavy wooden desk, splintering it in two.
"Young Darren! I ordered you to lift Marine morale, not incite a war!" His voice boomed through the chamber like cannon fire, shaking dust loose from the ceiling beams.
On the sofa opposite, the newly minted Vice Admiral sat calm and unhurried, cigar smoldering between his fingers as if the Fleet Admiral’s fury were nothing more than background noise.
Sengoku stood stiffly at Kong’s side, lips pressed thin.
Zephyr sat with one hand covering his face.
Tsuru’s sharp eyes studied Darren in silence.
Garp lounged across from him, happily crunching senbei.
Sakazuki was a statue in his chair, face unreadable.
Borsalino slouched in the corner, the barest curve of a smirk on his lips.
Behind Garp, Kuzan looked like a boy at the theater, eyes glittering with curiosity.
The award ceremony at the Elite Officer Training Camp had ended barely an hour ago, but Darren’s speech had already sent a wildfire through Marine Headquarters. War fever burned in the barracks; requests to join G-5’s New World deployment were already piling high on Kong’s desk.
He had managed to shake Darren’s hand on stage, smile for the cameras, and mumble a few polite words before bolting straight here to convene an emergency meeting.
Kong’s glare could have split stone. "Explain yourself, Darren. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"
Darren looked genuinely—almost comically—surprised. "Reporting to Fleet Admiral Kong," he said with mock solemnity, "I simply fulfilled my orders: to inject a strong dose of morale into the Marines through my graduation address. To strengthen the spirits and resolve of our soldiers."
He spread his hands in mild inquiry. "Tell me, sir—did it work or not?"
Sengoku’s lips twitched.
Zephyr turned away with a groan.
Tsuru exhaled a long breath.
Borsalino’s smirk deepened.
Kong’s face darkened from crimson to purple. "Darren, you know the state of Marine Headquarters! Our coffers are bleeding dry, our forces battered. Right now our top priority is to recover and rebuild!"
"Surely even you grasp such a basic principle?"
Darren nodded earnestly. "Of course, Fleet Admiral. I fully endorse your wise assessment."
Kong nearly swallowed his tongue. If you agree, why are you lighting a match in the powder magazine?!
He knew better than to believe Darren’s saintly tone. The brat wasn’t a pure champion of Justice—he was fanning the flames of Marine rage, bending the mood toward open war. But why?
Darren leaned back, letting the smoke curl lazily from his cigar. "That said, sir... rebuilding does not mean we hide in our corner, waiting for the next blow."
Kong and Sengoku exchanged a sharp glance. "What are you implying?" Sengoku asked.
Even Garp paused mid-crunch.
Darren’s smile was thin. "The Marineford War was a failure—a humiliation. No one here can deny that."
For all the propaganda lauding their bravery, the truth was plain: Marineford had been breached, its streets drowned in blood. Three Great Pirates had walked away. If not for Darren’s intervention, the fortress might have been wiped from the map.
And that truth sat in every stomach like lead.
Darren flicked ash into the tray and rose, his shadow stretching across the carpet.
"Our reputation is at its lowest point in history. If we huddle here under the excuse of ’recovery,’ the world will draw one conclusion: ’Even after having their home invaded, the Marines dare not strike back.’ We will become, in their eyes, nothing more than paper tigers."
He let the silence weigh on them.
"If we don’t act now, we may never reclaim our former authority. If we don’t act now, the pirates will despise us. The World Government will despise us. The nations we protect will despise us. And worst of all—our own Marines will lose respect for us."
The words cracked like gunfire in the quiet office.
For a long moment, only the ticking of the wall clock broke the stillness.
Then Sakazuki’s low growl cut through. "I agree with Darren. Only the blood of pirates can wash away this stain. There’s no other way."
Kong’s brow twitched. His gaze shifted to Borsalino.
The tall man’s smile was languid. "I concur as well."
Kong didn’t even bother looking at Kuzan—his open admiration for Darren was written plainly across his face.
These pups have finally bared their teeth... Kong thought grimly. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, he couldn’t yet say.
Sengoku’s voice was grave when it came. "Then tell us, Darren. What do you intend to do next?"