"Right now the higher-ups are already tightening the leash on the Marines," White Ghost said. "They cut this year's budget by seventy percent."
He snorted.
"The reason they gave was, 'The Marines are making money now, so we can afford to give less. The World Government's finances are strained.'"
Making money, my ass, he thought. As if Sengoku really doesn't know what's going on with that auction house.
They'd already sent CP agents to smash the place. As far as White Ghost was concerned, that operation was as good as finished.
Sengoku stared down at the four resignation letters lined up neatly on his desk.
Arakaki "White Ghost."
Kuro.
Jango.
Ain.
"We could assign you to the East Blue, or one of the other Blues," Tsuru suggested. "Shelve you quietly for a while, then find an excuse to bring you back later."
"Pointless," White Ghost said, shaking his head. "Might as well be clean about it. Saves everyone the trouble. Isn't that better?"
Sengoku continued to look over the documents one by one. All three of the others were very proper—standard phrasing, respectful tone, nothing out of line.
Then he picked up White Ghost's.
His brows knotted.
He looked up.
"You want to explain," he asked slowly, "why the others wrote full formal letters…
"And yours is only a single line?"
White Ghost rubbed his chin.
"What, it's not okay?" he said. "I thought I'd save the Marines some paper."
"You little brat," Sengoku exploded. "You making it sound like we can't even afford stationery anymore?!"
He took a deep breath, forced the temper down, and tapped the page.
"Why that sentence?" he pressed. "Of all the things you could have written, why that?"
The others' curiosity was piqued. They couldn't see the report from where they sat, but whatever was on that paper had clearly gotten under Sengoku's skin.
White Ghost shrugged.
"Because it's the truth," he said.
Sengoku slapped the paper back onto the desk.
"So your 'truth' is that 'the world is so big, I want to see it for myself,' huh?" he snapped. "What, you trying to echo Roger now and go after ONE PIECE?
"You planning to throw yourself into that idiotic fight over the title 'Pirate King'?"
White Ghost exhaled smoke and watched him calmly, saying nothing.
The atmosphere in the room tightened. Especially around Sakazuki—the look in his eyes said clearly:
If you give the wrong answer, I'll execute you myself.
When Sengoku finally ran out of steam, White Ghost spoke.
"You done venting about all the crap you've been swallowing from the World Government?" he asked.
Sengoku froze.
How the hell did this kid know…? He'd only been using White Ghost as a convenient target to let it all out.
Tsuru cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence.
"Explain properly," she said.
"It's exactly what I wrote," White Ghost replied with a shrug. "I've saved up some money over the years. I want to travel. Really travel—go around the whole world and actually see it.
"To be blunt: I've got enough cash to build a good ship. I want to sail, take a look at the world, catch some pirates along the way and cash them in, and in the end, find a place I like and retire."
Everyone stared at him.
The first half sounded almost reasonable.
The last part…
Retire?
How old are you again? drifted through more than one mind.
Even if he dragged the journey out for ten or twenty years, he'd still only be in his forties.
"Really makes me jealous," Borsalino said in his usual lazy, sour tone.
"Travel the world, catch pirates for bounties, then pick a spot to retire… mm, mm. I wonder when I'll ever get to retire and live off a pension."
White Ghost gave him a strange look.
"You're telling me you're broke?" he said. "Didn't you take a bunch of side jobs? Those auction lots over a hundred million each… wasn't that you?"
The moment he said it, every eye in the room turned to Borsalino.
Since when did I assign you those jobs? Sengoku thought darkly.
Caught under everyone's gaze, Borsalino raised a hand sheepishly.
"Eheh… I was just thinking of my future retirement life," he said.
"I don't believe you're that honest," Sakazuki said coldly, turning his stare back on White Ghost.
"Honestly, I don't either," White Ghost said cheerfully.
"Travel won't be smooth sailing. A little chaos is more fun. But relax, I'm not raising a pirate flag. I'll sail as an adventurer.
"Oh, and Fleet Admiral," he added casually, "if things do get messy in the future and you have to put a bounty on me, don't list me as a pirate. I'd prefer 'adventurer.' I don't like the other label."
"Shut up, you idiot," Sengoku snapped. "Why would we be fighting you in the first place?!"
He grabbed the teacup at hand and flung it at White Ghost.
White Ghost noticed this cup was freshly filled—Sengoku hadn't drunk from it yet. The one he'd shattered earlier was still in pieces on the floor.
He lifted a finger.
A tiny gust of wind wrapped around the cup, catching it midair. It floated gently into his hand without spilling a drop.
He took a sip.
"Perfect timing," he said. "I was thirsty."
Everyone's eyelids twitched.
That level of fine control…
And he did it with wind, not even ice or anything "stable."
Kuzan cracked one eye open.
"Ah la la," he murmured. "White-bro's gotten stronger again."
"So scary," Borsalino chimed in with his usual greasy grin. "Being that strong at your age… I almost can't believe it."
White Ghost ignored the two clowns and turned back to Sengoku.
He flipped his palm.
A Devil Fruit appeared in his hand.
"I know Marineford won't just let us walk out without any strings attached," he said. "Aside from me, the other three are all at vice admiral level.
"Kuro doesn't even need explaining—he's basically already at elite vice admiral strength."
He set the fruit on the desk.
"This one's Zoan: Ox–Ox Fruit, Model: Water Buffalo. Thick hide, ridiculous stamina."
Everyone was startled; they'd seen the storage bracelet before, but it still caught them off guard when he pulled a Devil Fruit out like that.
Except Borsalino, who already knew. During their last little "business deal," he'd even wanted to skim one for himself.
Sengoku opened his mouth.
A normal Zoan wasn't nearly enough to "buy out" three strong vice admirals and White Ghost himself…
Another fruit appeared in White Ghost's hand.
"Zoan: Ox–Ox Fruit, Model: Yellow Ox," he said. "More or less the same idea."
Did you raid a cattle farm or something? Sengoku thought sourly.
He kept his face blank. Two solid Zoans weren't bad, but nothing earthshaking.
"The third one," White Ghost continued, "Zoan: Bird–Bird Fruit, Model: Peregrine Falcon. I don't need to explain the value of a flying Zoan, do I, Fleet Admiral?"
That got everyone's attention.
Even as a regular Zoan, the ability to fly changed the board completely.
"Not enough," Sengoku said flatly.
White Ghost sighed.
"I knew you'd say that." He pulled out one last fruit. "Fine. Final one.
"Zoan: Ancient model—Tarbosaurus."
He'd agonized over this choice. In the end, he'd decided to keep the Scythe–Scythe Fruit for later—someday he'd find a true swordmaster and see what kind of storm that man could whip up with it.
"Don't be too greedy, Fleet Admiral," White Ghost said, seeing the look in Sengoku's eyes. "These were hard-earned."
Sengoku coughed and composed himself, pretending he hadn't just been mentally tallying up battle strength.
Two "heavy" Zoans like the buffaloes meant at least two future vice admiral-class fighters, given the right hosts.
The falcon Zoan… bare minimum, that was knocking on elite vice admiral level, and flying covered a multitude of weaknesses.
The Ancient Zoan Tarbosaurus was the real prize. Combined, this haul was enough to shift the balance of power all by itself.
Sengoku was also very sure of one more thing:
White Ghost still had even better fruits he'd chosen not to hand over.
Kuzan, on the other hand, wasn't even looking at the fruits.
His gaze was fixed on the golden bracelet on White Ghost's wrist.
White Ghost was bracing himself for the usual, What is that thing? when Kuzan instead said:
"…Got any more of those?" the admiral asked seriously. "It's insanely convenient. I really want one."
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