In a quiet back alley of Marineford Town, there stood a modest two-story house—ordinary, unremarkable, almost invisible among the rows of buildings.
Its structure was plain wood and clay. Though spotless inside and out—no cobwebs on the beams, no dust in the yard—it still looked worn and aged, a home long untouched by renovation.
This was Sakazuki's house.
Hard to believe that such a simple, even shabby place belonged to one of the Navy Headquarters' most powerful officers. Compared to Brian's sprawling luxury estate, this was less impressive than a kennel in the man's garden.
Today was Sakazuki's day off. With no missions assigned, he spent the morning as he always did—cleaning. He wiped every surface of the house meticulously, corner by corner, cloth in hand, repeating the motion again and again until every trace of dust and grime was gone. Some spots he polished ten times over.
Everyone at Headquarters knew of Sakazuki's fastidiousness—or rather, his obsession.
Two tall men approached the little courtyard, voices carrying through the gate.
"Sakazuki! We brought beer and roasted meat! Let's drink till we drop today!"
"Yeah, it's your day off, man! Time to loosen up for once!"
The first man through the gate was scar-faced Dogman, known as the "Fighting Hound." Behind him came Spider, both fellow graduates of the Marine Academy and die-hard hawks like Sakazuki himself. They were among the few people welcome in his home.
"The mats and utensils are in the kitchen…"
Before he could finish, Dogman clapped him on the shoulder. "Relax! We won't make a mess this time."
"You always say that." Sakazuki sighed. "Forget it—I'll get them myself. Sit in the living room."
He slipped off his shoes and disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later he returned, carrying utensils and paper mats.
Dogman and Spider were already sitting on the couch, beers open. They were careful not to touch the bonsai on the table—a perfectly trimmed miniature tree, no withered leaves, no diseased branches, every cut deliberate.
When Sakazuki set the table, Dogman took a deep swig from his bottle, exhaled, and said, "I swung by Headquarters this morning—heard that Gonavar Port got hit by pirates."
Sakazuki sipped his beer, face unreadable. "You're that concerned about Brian?"
The question caught Dogman off guard. He exchanged a glance with Spider.
"Sakazuki," Dogman said, raising his voice, "can't you see what's happening? That's Brian's counterattack!"
Sakazuki's expression didn't change. "And what does that have to do with me?"
"How can it not?!" Spider burst out. "Everyone knows Karl used to serve under you! That bastard Brian not only killed your man—he stole your credit at Ohara! He's the reason you're still not an admiral!"
Dogman slammed his hand on his thigh, face red. "Exactly! If not for him, you'd already be one of the Admirals!"
Their frustration was palpable—and understandable.
The Navy Headquarters was now firmly dominated by the Dove faction. Zephyr and Garp held enormous sway, and even officers like Aokiji and Onigumo often sided with them in military councils, openly suppressing the hawks.
Fleet Admiral Kong, though a neutral, still tended to respect the opinions of Garp's group.
The hawks desperately needed a leader—someone to stand against the doves.
Sakazuki had the strength, the record, and the conviction. His uncompromising sense of "Absolute Justice" made him a symbol for all hawks.
But Dogman and Spider were wasting their breath. No matter how they ranted, Sakazuki remained motionless, his face carved from stone. He gave no hint of anger or vengeance toward Brian.
Eventually, their enthusiasm fizzled out. Muttering curses, the two men packed up their beer bottles, gathered their trash, and left the house smelling faintly of smoke and frustration.
When the gate closed behind them, silence returned.
Sakazuki sat staring at the bonsai for a long time. At last, he picked up his pruning shears and hovered over a fresh green shoot that had just begun to sprout. He hesitated—and did not cut it.
"If you ever become a dead branch," he murmured quietly, "if you ever sicken and block the light of justice… I'll cut you off too."
Mariejois — World Government Hall.
In the grand chamber, the Five Elders sat sipping tea while Dassault, their informant, read aloud the latest reports.
His summaries covered everything from the Grand Line to the Four Seas, but when he reached the West Blue, all five men grew attentive.
The bald, bespectacled elder polished his nodachi blade and said coolly, "That boy's guts are something else—he actually dared to strike back at Kong and Sengoku."
The blond elder chuckled. "He's bold because he knows we'll protect him. That's why he acts so recklessly."
The elder with the round cap and curly white hair smiled faintly. "Still, his move was audacious. He went and killed the King of Nacia at such a delicate time, then forced the Queen to act as regent. He's not just bold—he's strategic. He's trying to throw the entire West Blue into chaos."
A queen regent would inevitably divide the nobility; many lords would refuse her rule, and civil war was almost certain.
Nacia was the choke point of the West Blue—every major trade route passed through its ports on the way to the Grand Line.
And war, like rot, breeds vermin.
Bandits, rebels, smugglers—the entire region would destabilize. With Nacia's harbors crippled, West Blue goods would stop flowing into the Grand Line.
Trade would plummet. World Government revenues would shrink.
The elder with the goatee nodded. "Ambitious and clever. He's keeping his distance from Headquarters, trying to make us his backers—pushing for more resources and carving out a new faction within the Navy."
"That's not necessarily a bad thing," said another. "The Navy's been under dove control for years. They defy our directives, weaken our authority. Letting that go on would erode the Government's prestige."
"But do we really need to create a new faction?" one argued. "We could simply strengthen the hawks—give them the upper hand."
"Hmm." The bald elder sheathed his sword. "Akainu is ruthless, but he's not ruthless enough. His vision's too narrow. He can't lead the hawks against the doves—not yet."
As the old men debated the politics of war and ambition, across the sea—
Brian was already en route to welcome Vice Admiral Orton.
If you Enjoyed Reading
Visit my p@treon for more chapters
Advance 80+ Chapters Available
patreon.com/c/silentRonin