"Sideline me… What an unfamiliar word."
Hearing Tsuru's calm, methodical dissection that cut straight to the marrow, Sengoku pressed his lips together.
He didn't argue.
Instead, he quietly picked up a document from his desk—already stamped void—and with practiced ease handed it to the small goat at his side, the one currently chewing on the hem of his Fleet Admiral's cloak. He watched as the goat happily began gnawing away at the paper.
A faint smile touched Sengoku's face—relief mixed with unmistakable exhaustion.
"You're sharp as ever, little Tsuru… That's almost exactly what I concluded myself."
That reaction alone was as good as confirmation. He wasn't denying a single word of her analysis.
"You could have continued in office," Tsuru said softly, a trace of regret entering her voice as she observed him. "Rebuilding Marineford is a monumental task, yes. But erecting a temporary command center and restoring basic defensive systems wouldn't take long. With your years of prestige and the backing of the World Government, stabilizing the situation wouldn't be difficult."
She paused, her gaze steady.
"From my perspective, the most stable arrangement right now would be a dual-power structure within the Marines."
Then her eyes sharpened.
"But…"
"You still chose to relocate the core of Marine Headquarters into the New World—turning G-1 into a temporary base of operations."
She fell silent for a moment, as if finally confirming a long-held suspicion.
"I think I can guess what kind of deal you and that brat Gern struck before the Summit War even began."
Leaning back slightly, Tsuru's voice lowered.
"Sengoku… Gern Reginald Sigmar asked you to shift the center of Marine authority and political symbolism entirely into the New World, didn't he?"
She didn't wait for him to answer.
"Otherwise, with his temperament and foresight, there's no way he would remain so calm in G-10, consolidating territory after achieving such overwhelming victory. He wouldn't leave himself exposed to the possibility of the World Government coordinating with you to restrain him during the power transition."
"As long as Marine Headquarters remained in the first half of the Grand Line—under the direct gaze of the World Government—they would always have grounds and channels to interfere."
"But once Headquarters relocates into the New World—especially within the sphere of influence radiating from G-10…"
Tsuru smiled faintly and did not finish the sentence.
Sengoku neither confirmed nor denied it.
He simply allowed the goat, having finished the document, to continue chewing at the tattered edge of his once-glorious cloak.
Gern had traded a brilliant victory and the final curtain call of the old era for Sengoku's "temporary relocation"—a move that in name was logistical, but in substance shifted the axis of power itself.
The World Government could keep Sengoku as their "face."
But the true strength of the Marines—their future direction—had already, under Gern's will, begun its irreversible course toward the New World.
Sengoku leaned back in his chair, gaze distant.
"Tsuru… we're getting old."
He exhaled quietly.
"This is something we can't stop."
"If you don't give it to him, he'll take it himself."
His eyes darkened.
"With his current strength, reputation, and methods… if he ever decided to seize it outright, that situation would spiral far beyond what this old man could control."
He gestured toward the sea outside the window—the turbulent waters of the New World.
"So by designating G-1 as the temporary Headquarters, I'm also sending Gern a clear signal."
"Go handle your affairs. Consolidate territory. Prepare for the Four Emperors."
"And I… will honor the promise I made to him."
Tsuru frowned slightly.
"If that's the case… are we to completely abandon order and defense in the first half of the Grand Line? The so-called 'Paradise'?"
Her voice sharpened.
"That's the vital corridor connecting the Four Seas to Enies Lobby and Impel Down."
Sengoku shook his head. A complex expression crossed his face—half a test, half genuine delegation of power.
"That depends on the arrangements and methods of that boy Gern."
"You could say this is his first test in governance. I want to see whether he can truly oversee the entire board—or if he's only capable of ruling the New World as a warlord."
"If he fails to maintain balance in the first half of the Grand Line—if pirates run rampant and public resentment boils over…"
A sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
"Then this 'temporary' Fleet Admiral won't simply play the surface-level puppet while he does as he pleases."
"At the very least, before I pass the baton, I need to ensure my successor has the qualifications and the capability."
Tsuru nodded. She understood perfectly.
After all, Steelbone Kong had once tested Sengoku in much the same way.
Then she voiced the most realistic concern.
"The World Government… won't take this lightly. They'll never be pleased to see Marine Headquarters slip from their direct control and relocate into the New World."
At that, Sengoku laughed instead of frowning.
He reached for the cloak on his desk—the one now ragged along its edges from the goat's chewing—and lifted it as if it were the final bargaining chip in his hand.
His tone carried a shameless boldness, almost roguish.
"I'll bear it."
"From now on, the only Fleet Admiral they can summon at will—drag up to the Holy Land for questioning whenever they please—will probably be me."
A cold smile tugged at his lips.
"And I… will be the last."
He shook out the cloak.
"And didn't you say they don't lack money?"
"The Celestial Dragons burn through fortunes on a single banquet in Mary Geoise…"
A foxlike grin spread across his face.
"So this time, under the banners of rebuilding Marineford, relocating Headquarters, compensating the fallen, strengthening New World defenses—I'm going to demand everything."
"Weapons. Warship budgets. Soldier pensions. Base construction funds…"
"As much as I can get."
His expression softened, just slightly.
"Consider it the last tangible benefit I can secure for the soldiers… while I still hold real authority."
With that, he draped the Fleet Admiral's cloak over his shoulders once more—and walked out.