As the Headquarters officers mulled it over, the looks aimed at Darren grew more and more dubious.
"Hold on…" Doberman said, riffling through the roster. "Hawk-Eyes Mihawk is missing an arm too!"
Pages rustled. They found Mihawk's dossier—the bounty poster showed the young swordsman famed for those hawk-like eyes… with only one arm.
Whoosh.
Dozens of heads turned in unison toward Darren.
"Ahem…" Darren lifted both hands, all innocence. "I didn't cut off his arm."
The room's tension eased a notch.
"…He cut it off himself—after losing to me."
Every officer stared. Darren lounged there, smoking. Lips twitched around the table; dark lines of exasperation all but drew themselves on foreheads.
So you were the cause anyway!
The thought ran through the room. A chill crept into sleeves as more than one man imagined his own arm going numb.
Of the five confirmed Shichibukai candidates, four had lost an arm in matters involving Darren's blade. The lone exception was the "Blood Dragon," Fisher Tiger.
No wonder the Shichibukai seethed at Vice Admiral Darren. Every special privilege they'd requested seemed designed to make his life harder. Who wouldn't be furious?
Expressions shifted.
Kuzan's gaze burned; he subconsciously rolled up his sleeves, itching for a bout.
Borsalino's smile deepened—amused and entirely unhelpful.
A flicker of reluctant respect crossed Sakazuki's eyes.
"Ahem…" Sengoku called the room to order. "As for the special privileges requested by the remaining two Shichibukai—Hawk-Eyes Dracule Mihawk and Douglas Bullet—both have petitioned for challenge rights against Vice Admiral Darren." He paused, clarifying, "Mihawk requests the right to challenge him to a sword duel at any time. Bullet requests the right to challenge him at any time."
Silence. Eyebrows climbed.
A sword duel?
Since when did Vice Admiral Darren practice swordsmanship?
Sengoku suppressed his own bemusement and turned to Darren. "Vice Admiral Darren, your view?"
The implications were obvious. Granting those privileges meant Darren would have to accept their challenges whenever they came. The pressure would be constant—and crushing. Each Shichibukai was a Great Pirate, the kind who could lay waste to nations.
Under the expectant stares, Darren simply smiled. "No objections," he said. "Douglas Bullet and Dracule Mihawk are both extraordinarily dangerous men whose power threatens global security. It's precisely because of their destructive potential that the Government and our Marines invited them into the Shichibukai."
"My personal safety is insignificant next to the world's peace and stability."
"This is the duty I bear as a Marine."
The words lit a fire. Admiration—and a touch of reverence—flared in the room.
"How cool is that! Sacrificing yourself for justice and peace!" Kuzan slapped the table with a bang, crimson eyes blazing as he shot to his feet—startling Garp mid–nose-pick.
Many in the gallery were visibly moved; Commodore Yamakaji and several officers blinked against a sting in their eyes.
Darren had said it lightly, but no one could quite imagine the weight of it.
"I knew I hadn't misjudged you," Sengoku said, smiling, a knot of complicated feeling in his chest. If I'd been his age in his place… could I have stood that straight?
Kong, Garp, Zephyr, Tsuru—the pillars of the Marines—chuckled, their gazes warming. Whatever his vices—smoking, drinking, money, women—Darren never shirked responsibility. No matter the opponent or the mission's odds, he gave everything. That part had never faltered.
Eyes slid, almost by reflex, to Borsalino: still serenely filing his nails. Lips twitched. Then, after a beat, several glanced at Sengoku.
Sengoku: …
His face darkened; he strangled the urge to throttle his adjutant.
"Ahem. Moving on to the final request," Sengoku said, ignoring the looks. "Fisher Tiger. Many of you may not know him well, so a brief overview."
"He hails from Fish-Man Island—an exceptionally powerful Fish-Man. Before piracy, he was a world-renowned adventurer. About a month ago, for reasons unknown, he began attacking merchant convoys and noble ships and was placed on our wanted list."
"His physical strength naturally surpasses a human's many times over, and in naval combat his capabilities are beyond human comprehension. Headquarters dispatched two Vice Admirals and three battleships—over a thousand men—to subdue him. All attempts failed."
"He even used his Fish-Man skills to sink one of our battleships with ease."
Faces grew grave around the table.
An image rose unbidden: a crimson shape like a swordfish cutting the depths at terrifying speed, impervious to cannon and shot—lurking in the dark water like a great beast of the deep, eyes fixed upward on prey, ready to strike at any moment.
To be continued...