Marineford.
The Fleet Admiral's Office.
Click.
The crisp click of the receiver hanging up, like the final straw, sounded particularly grating in the dead silence of the room.
Sengoku the Buddha stiffly maintained his posture, still holding the receiver. The golden den den mushi had closed its mouth, no longer mimicking his furious expression; it simply lay quietly on the desk, as if it too had exhausted all its energy.
But the rage boiling within Sengoku's chest was like magma trapped in a plugged volcano, churning and surging, unable to find any outlet for release.
"Borsalino... you..."
He gritted his teeth, every word squeezed out; the veins on the back of his hands bulged, and his knuckles were white from clenching.
In the end, all the curses transformed into a single heavy, muffled thud, laced with endless exhaustion.
Bang!
His fist slammed a shallow dent into the hard mahogany desk; the documents on top jumped into the air, then fluttered back down.
"Bastard!!"
Sengoku abruptly stood up, pacing restlessly back and forth in the office like a caged lion.
The entire ocean was in turmoil!
Whitebeard, Kaido, and Big Mom—those three monsters entrenched in the New World—were now, like sharks smelling blood, simultaneously turning their ships toward the weakest of seas: the East Blue!
What an utterly ridiculous sight!
Since the curtain fell on the Rocks era, when had such a bizarre and terrifying situation ever appeared on these seas?
And the Admiral he had sent to monitor the situation, Kizaru—who should have been the Marine's most reliable link—not only failed to play any role but was leisurely enjoying the Kabukicho district in the Goa Kingdom!
Worse still... he even made the absurd suggestion that the expenses incurred at such a place should be covered by Marine reimbursement!
This was a provocation against him! It was a ruthless mockery of the Marine's "Absolute Justice"!
"Hoo... hoo..."
Sengoku was breathing heavily. He felt his blood pressure surging at an unprecedented rate, and his vision swam.
Just then, the office door was gently pushed open.
"The tea is ready."
A gentle and serene voice sounded, like a clear spring that instantly washed away the frantic heat in the room.
The Marine Chief of Staff, Tsuru, walked in carrying a tray with a steaming pot of tea and two cups.
She glanced at the dented desktop, then at Sengoku, whose face was flushed and whose veins were throbbing at his temples, her gaze completely calm.
She placed a teacup in front of Sengoku, poured a cup of clear tea, and said mildly, "You're getting on in years, still getting this angry? Are you trying to make your hair go whiter faster?"
Sengoku froze. He looked at Tsuru's face, etched with lines of wisdom, and the fury in his chest deflated rapidly, like a punctured balloon.
He slumped back into his chair, picking up the teacup. The scalding tea went down his throat, yet he felt no heat at all.
"Tsuru..." His voice was hoarse. "Did you hear all that?"
"What kind of person Borsalino is, haven't you figured that out after sitting in this position for so many years?" Tsuru poured herself a cup of tea, slowly blowing on the steam. "Getting this worked up over a den den mushi call whose outcome you already knew is unnecessary."
"I..." Sengoku opened his mouth, but found himself unable to refute her.
That's right. Who was Kizaru?
The man who upheld "Unclear Justice" to the very end. Could he really be expected to clash head-on with a "god" who could casually mold the moon? Could he be expected to uphold the Marine's dignity in front of such an existence?
The expectation itself was ridiculous.
Sengoku gave a bitter laugh, draining the cup in one gulp. His Adam's apple bobbed; it was as if he hadn't swallowed tea, but a mouthful of bitterness and helplessness.
"I truly... lost my composure."
Tsuru watched him quietly, her eyes, which seemed to see through everything, reflecting Sengoku's exhausted face.
She suddenly spoke, her voice light, yet like a precise scalpel cutting through all of Sengoku's pretense.
"You aren't angry about Borsalino's dereliction of duty."
"You are feeling genuine... dread, because you have completely lost control of the situation, aren't you?"
Sengoku's body jolted violently.
He looked up, meeting Tsuru's deep eyes; all his emotions—anger, frustration, helplessness—were clearly seen by those eyes in that moment.
After a long while, he let out a deep sigh, his entire posture slumping, as if all his strength had been drained away instantly.
"Sure enough... nothing gets past you, Tsuru."
He was no longer the imposing Fleet Admiral, but merely an old man worried about the world's future, yet powerless to affect it.
"That White Night in the East Blue... Garp obtained power from him that shouldn't belong to this world, Kizaru and Dragon are subservient to him, and even Golden Lion Shiki was sealed away by him like a doll..."
"The Four Emperors are gathering in the East Blue, the Revolutionary Army has ignited a fire in the Goa Kingdom, and Kizaru is turning a blind eye, even welcoming it..."
With every sentence Sengoku spoke, his voice grew lower and the light in his eyes dimmed further.
"One thing after another, everything has gone beyond my expectations and slipped out of the Marine's control. I feel like an idiot standing on a dike, watching the floodwaters rush in from all directions, yet unable to do anything."
"Tsuru, tell me, how can I not be terrified?"
Tsuru listened quietly, not interrupting him.
Only when he finished did she set down her own teacup with a soft 'clink.'
"Sengoku, have you considered that perhaps, from the very beginning, this tide was not something we—or any single power—could stop?"
Her voice was calm, yet carried a persuasive strength.
"Once the wheels of the era begin to turn, anyone who tries to stop them will simply be crushed. The Marine is no exception."
"Instead of worrying here about things we cannot change, it is better to wait and see how things unfold."
Tsuru's gaze drifted toward the window. The sky above Marineford was as clear as ever, but she seemed to see a terrifying storm, capable of overturning the entire world, gathering over that weakest of seas.
"If you worry this much, you might genuinely become too old to walk," she joked lightly.
Sengoku subconsciously touched his signature braided hairstyle and gave a blank "Ah?"
"Is... is that true?"
Seeing him like this, a rare, faint smile appeared on Tsuru's lips, but it quickly faded.
Her expression became serious again, and she changed the subject.
"Furthermore, Sengoku, instead of worrying about the clash of 'gods' far away in the East Blue, where we cannot intervene..."
"What you should be worrying about right now is the accountability coming from the Holy Land Mary Geoise."
Sengoku's heart sank violently, and his face instantly became even paler than before.
The Gorosei!
Tsuru continued, her voice turning cold and sharp:
"The newspapers have spread across the world. It's impossible for those five old men not to know."
"They are probably already very displeased with the Marine's 'concealment,' aren't they?"