Outside the walls of Marineford, the once-peaceful coastline had turned into a massive military construction site.
Heavy seastone barriers were being driven into the shallows one after another, each impact echoing with a deep thud, sending up muddy sprays of seawater.
Inside the Fleet Admiral's office, Sengoku's expression was graver than usual.
Spread across his desk were several response letters, each bearing the unique emblem of a Warlord of the Sea.
"Dracule Mihawk and Boa Hancock are nearly here," he said in a low, serious tone, tapping his finger against the table. "As for Doflamingo… hmph! His reply was just, 'Fufufu, depends on my mood.' That lunatic!"
The rest had either given vague answers or gone completely silent.
These "allies" had always been unpredictable, but their power was something he couldn't do without right now.
He picked up a Den Den Mushi and connected to someone he least wanted to call, but had no choice.
purupuru
The Den Den Mushi's face morphed into one with drowsy, half-lidded eyes.
"Renzo!"
Sengoku's voice carried the weight of a direct order. "The patrol coordination at the intersection of the execution plaza and the underground prison entrance will be handled by your special office! I want that entire area spotless before the Warlords arrive and before the execution begins. No mistakes! Understood?"
There was a pause, followed by a lazy, muffled voice filled with clear reluctance.
"Cross patrols? Walking back and forth to keep watch? And I have to deal with those troublesome Warlords? Nope, not going."
"Let Kizaru do it. He's fast, sharp-eyed, perfect for that kind of job."
A vein throbbed on Sengoku's forehead. He roared into the receiver, "Kizaru's managing the fleet defense around the harbor! This is an order! After the war, strawberry mochi or Sky Island cloudberry jam, take your pick!"
"…Got it."
Renzo's voice instantly became clearer, though still dripping with laziness. "Send me the location. Such a pain…"
When the line went dead, Renzo was crouched in the Marines Headquarters' kitchen storage, staring at a freshly opened crate of strawberry mochi that smelled heavenly.
He sighed wistfully, closed the box with great care, and grumbled to Sanji and Potts, who were busy taking inventory of smoked meat.
"Old man Sengoku sure knows how to ruin a day… but for my beloved mochi…"
Sanji didn't even look up, still writing figures. "Isn't that good for you? Go stretch your legs. You've been lazing around here all day, getting in my way while I count rations. Potts, done with the compressed biscuits?"
"All done, Sanji!" Potts replied, then turned worriedly toward Renzo. "Rear Admiral, you're going on patrol? Things are chaotic out there, please be careful…"
"Careful of what?" Renzo stood, brushed off imaginary dust, and said casually, "I'm not going to fight anyone. I'll just coordinate. Find a spot to sit and watch them work."
And so, Renzo "coordinated" by strolling lazily to the area between the execution plaza and the underground prison entrance. There, he found a clean step bathed in sunlight and sat down.
Then, his Domain of Absolute Sloth silently spread outward from where he sat.
The effect was immediate.
A patrol unit marching in formation slowed down as they passed. Their eyes grew unfocused, the sergeant's voice lost its edge, and before long, the whole squad absentmindedly walked two extra loops around their route before shuffling off, completely unaware that anything was wrong.
In their minds, "doing a perfect sweep" suddenly felt way too much trouble.
Meanwhile, a suspicious figure trying to sneak near the prison entrance suddenly yawned a dozen times from a hundred meters away.
His eyelids grew unbearably heavy until he slid down the wall and fell fast asleep, clutching his Den Den Mushi camera.
Renzo didn't even bother to look.
The sunlight was a bit too bright, so he shifted slightly, nestling comfortably into the shadow of the wall, perfectly "coordinating" the area's security.
To him, making every potential troublemaker lazy and sluggish was the most efficient form of protection.
Meanwhile, below the walls,
Koby and his squad had been assigned to reinforce defensive structures.
He grit his teeth, straining to lift a massive stone block. Sweat soaked through his uniform, dripping down his face and mixing with dust into streaks of mud.
Each step felt like he was walking with lead in his legs.
"Hey! Ensign! Move faster!"
The scarred veteran carried two steel beams past him, barking with a rough laugh. "With that twig body of yours, what'll you do when the fighting starts? Don't let your own gun crush you before the enemy gets here! Hah!"
A few men around chuckled good-naturedly, but Koby couldn't even force a smile.
He tried, but it came out more like a grimace. His chest tightened painfully with fear.
He looked up at the line of cannons and seastone barriers. To him, they weren't symbols of power, they looked like the fangs of a giant beast waiting to devour lives.
During the break, soldiers sat around chatting over rations, speaking with a mix of tension and excitement about the coming war.
Koby, however, slipped away and crouched alone behind an unfinished section of wall, back against the cold stone, curling into himself.
The fear washed over him like a tide. He could already see Whitebeard's devastating power, see men falling amidst explosions. He bit his lip hard, trying not to cry, but his shoulders trembled despite himself.
In the Marines, fear was weakness, a disgrace. So he buried it deep, deep inside.
By dusk, Kizaru finished coordinating the fleet defenses and strolled lazily back to HQ, waving his folding fan.
At a corner near the corridor leading to the underground prison, he found Renzo, leaning against the wall, head drooping, half-asleep beside an empty juice cup.
"Yo~ Rear Admiral Renzo~"
Kizaru prodded him lightly with his fan. "How's today's coordination going?"
Renzo cracked an eye open and yawned. "What do you think? Doffy's men were sneaking around here twice, Mihawk stopped by asking where to find good tea, such a hassle… Oh, and a reporter fell asleep mid-spy job. Patrol took him away."
Kizaru blinked. For once, his playful smirk faded a little. "Doflamingo's men, huh? Tch. That lunatic never stays quiet. Still, with you here, I doubt they got anything done."
He paused, lowering his voice. "Just got word from the scouts. The Moby Dick and Whitebeard's forty-three allied ships passed Fishman Island. They're ascending at full speed. Earliest estimate, three days until they reach Marineford."
"Three days?" Renzo rubbed his eyes, finally sounding mildly awake. "That's the day of the execution. Huh. Nice timing… Hope it doesn't mess up dinner."
Kizaru: "…"
Even he sometimes found it impossible to keep up with Renzo's logic.
Shaking his fan, he sighed. "Well~ the storm's coming. Let's hope the HQ roof's sturdy enough~"
With that, he hummed a lazy tune and wandered off.
Renzo leaned back against the wall again, gazing at the thick seastone doors at the end of the corridor that sealed everything beyond.
'Three days.'
He thought silently.
In three days, Sanji said he'd try making molten chocolate cake with the new cocoa beans. Hopefully, the kitchen would still be standing by then.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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