Chapter 136: The Arrival of Sengoku and Vice Admiral Tsuru
The Small Courtyard Behind the Palace — Morning
"WOOOO! Sabo's leaving already?! I'm so sad! WOOOO!"
"Why'd Itachi go with Sabo?! What about Sanji?! Where's Sanji and the others?!"
"When did Kin'emon get back?! Did someone find him?!"
Luffy sat at the breakfast table in a state of complete chaos. A sleep bubble still clung to his nose, inflating and deflating with each breath. His left eye streamed tears of sorrow. His right eye remained firmly closed in slumber. His hands—operating entirely independently of his brain—shoveled food into his mouth at a rate that defied both physics and basic table manners.
Cyrus, the former toy soldier restored to human form, stood beside the table with a platter of grilled meat that was already three-quarters empty. He had never seen anyone eat like this. And he had spent ten years watching gladiators consume victory feasts.
"Make up your mind!" Zoro slammed his fist on the table, rattling the plates. "Are you crying, laughing, or sleeping?! Pick one!"
Luffy's response was: "Ahm wuf wuf wuf wuf—"
"Did Luffy just... bark like a dog?" Usopp leaned over, squinting at his captain's face. Luffy had somehow crammed an entire pork leg into his mouth while still unconscious. His cheeks bulged like a chipmunk's. He was chewing in his sleep.
"How is that even possible?!"
At the door, Law—who had been keeping watch—glanced up sharply. A familiar green mohawk was approaching at high speed. "We have company."
"It's terrible! SENIORS! SENIORS!"
Bartolomeo burst through the door before Law could stop him. His face was flushed, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with the particular panic of a man who had seen something deeply alarming and run several miles to report it.
"SENIORS—!"
And then he saw Luffy and Zoro in the same room. Together. In the flesh.
Bartolomeo's panic evaporated. His eyes glazed over. His entire body went slack, and a dreamy expression—complete with the internal light filter of religious ecstasy—spread across his face.
"Seniors..." he breathed. "Both seniors... at the same time..."
"OI." Zoro's voice cut through the reverie. "What did you come here to tell us?"
"AH! Senior Zoro!" Bartolomeo snapped back to reality, his face immediately resuming its earlier alarm. "It's bad! Really bad! Former Fleet Admiral Sengoku and Vice Admiral Tsuru of Navy Headquarters—they're here! In Dressrosa! Right now!"
"Sengoku? Vice Admiral Tsuru?" Law straightened, his medical satchel momentarily forgotten. The names were legendary. Sengoku—the Buddha—had led the Navy through the Great Pirate Era's bloodiest decades. Tsuru was his closest advisor, a strategist whose intellect was feared across the seas. If they were here, it could only mean one thing.
Doflamingo's prisoner transfer.
Cyrus's Den Den Mushi rang. He answered, and Leo's tiny voice came through in a frantic squeak: "Captain! We've spotted Navy movements! They're mobilizing across the entire city! It looks like they're preparing for a major operation!"
The Side Entrance of the Dressrosa Palace — Simultaneously
The shadows near the palace's eastern gate had grown considerably thinner since sunrise. Overnight, the Marine presence in Dressrosa had tripled. Warships dotted the harbor. Patrols marched through every major street. The window for undetected movement was closing rapidly.
Sabo pressed himself against the wall, his expression grim. "Looks like getting to the boss just got a lot more complicated."
Beside him, Itachi's Sharingan swept the perimeter. He counted seventeen Marines within visual range, with at least three patrol routes overlapping at this position. "The Navy reinforced overnight. Someone with significant authority must have arrived."
"And we need to get through all of them to reach the port." Sabo's jaw tightened. "The boss specifically asked to see Luffy, too. Wanted to check on his son with his own eyes. But at this rate..."
"Calm down." Itachi's gaze had settled on a small bird perched on a nearby windowsill. His Sharingan shifted—the tomoe spinning once—and the bird went very still. "I have a solution."
He turned to Sabo. "Paper. Something to write with."
Sabo produced a small notebook and pencil from his coat. Itachi wrote quickly—a few lines, a brief explanation—then folded the paper and attached it to the bird's leg with a strand of chakra-infused thread.
"This will find Luffy. We'll meet the rest of the crew at sea once we've finished our business with your leader."
"At sea?" Robin raised an eyebrow. "You're suggesting we don't come back?"
"It will be difficult to return openly now." Itachi was already moving toward the deeper shadows. "Better to rendezvous with the Sunny after our meeting. I'll send word to Nami and the others once we're clear of the harbor."
Sabo nodded. "Makes sense. Let's move before—"
Buru buru buru. Buru buru buru.
Every muscle in Sabo's body tensed. He spun toward the sound. Robin's eyes widened. Itachi's hand moved toward his weapon pouch before he caught himself.
The Den Den Mushi in Itachi's cloak was ringing.
"That shouldn't be Luffy." Itachi's voice was calm, but his brow had furrowed. "I haven't saved their contact frequencies yet."
He lifted the snail. Its face had shifted into an expression that was unmistakably scarred, weathered, and blind.
"Fujitora?" Robin whispered.
"Yes."
Itachi glanced toward the distant Marine encampment. Through the Sharingan's telescopic vision, he could make out the Admiral's unmistakable silhouette among the tents and barricades.
"Robin. Sabo. Go ahead to the port. I'll catch up."
"Itachi—"
He met Robin's eyes. Just for a moment. Something unspoken passed between them—a recognition, a trust, a quiet understanding that words would only diminish.
Robin nodded. "Sabo and I will wait for you at the harbor."
"Good."
Itachi lifted the receiver as the other two slipped into the shadows. "Fujitora."
The Admiral's voice was heavy—heavier than Itachi had ever heard it. "Itachi-san. I must apologize."
"What's happened?"
"The pressure from above... this old man alone can no longer hold it back. I have been ordered to commence operations against the Straw Hat Pirates. Effective immediately."
Itachi's expression did not change. "Is that all?"
"Is that—" Fujitora's voice cracked. "Itachi-san, I have been ordered to arrest you. To arrest your entire crew. After everything you did—after you made this old man a hero—I now have to—"
He stopped. Collected himself. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier, but only just.
"I have secured an escape route for you and your companions. There is a passage through the old aqueduct system on the eastern side of the palace. It leads directly to the harbor. If you move quickly, you can—"
"Fujitora. That won't be necessary."
"WHAT?!"
"Follow your orders. Arrest the Straw Hat Pirates. That is your duty."
"You cannot ask this old man to—"
"You are an Admiral of the Navy." Itachi's voice was gentle but firm. "You have a mission. A larger mission than any single battle. Remember what we discussed in the illusion. Remember what you still need to accomplish."
"But—"
"However." Itachi allowed himself a faint smile. "I must apologize to you as well. Regarding my crew's departure from this island... I will need your assistance to ensure it proceeds smoothly."
The silence on the other end of the line was heavy with emotion.
"Itachi-san..." Fujitora's voice had gone hoarse. "You have never owed this old man an apology. Not once. Not ever. I will ensure your companions reach the sea safely. I swear it on my blade."
His voice firmed with sudden, fierce conviction.
"I understand now. What you showed me in that illusion. The path you opened for me. From this day forward, I will lead the Navy toward the justice THIS OLD MAN believes in! True justice! Justice that protects the weak and punishes the wicked regardless of their status!"
"Itachi-san... you and your crew... you are not the vicious pirates the world believes you to be. You never were."
"...Thank you, Fujitora."
Itachi hung up. His hands moved through seals with fluid precision.
"Wood Release: Wood Clone."
"Fire Release: Black Fire Crow."
The Navy Encampment — Moments Later
Fujitora stood at the edge of the encampment, his staff-sword planted in the earth before him. His scarred face was troubled. His blind eyes stared at nothing, and somehow saw everything.
"Wahaha! Smile!"
The voice boomed across the camp with the force of a man who had never needed to be quiet in his entire life. Sengoku—former Fleet Admiral, current Inspector General, the man known throughout the world as "The Buddha"—strode toward Fujitora with a gorilla ambling at his side. His white coat billowed. His goat-bearded face was split in a grin that was equal parts amusement and genuine warmth.
"I've heard ALL about what you did! Every last bit of it!"
"Did you now."
"You become the hero of the Navy—the man who brought down Doflamingo without losing a single soldier—and the first thing you do is KNEEL to the deposed king and APOLOGIZE?! In the name of the Government?! WAHAAHA!"
Sengoku bent over, slapping his knee. Tears of laughter streamed down his weathered face.
"And then—THEN—you get into a screaming match with Sakazuki! Over the Den Den Mushi! In front of your own staff! WAHAAHAHA! I would have PAID to see his face!"
"The old man is aware that the situation has become... complicated." Fujitora's voice was dry. "And now rather embarrassing."
"Embarrassing? Nonsense! It's hilarious!" Sengoku wiped his eyes. "But yes, it's also a problem. As long as you can produce results—specifically, the Straw Hats in custody—the higher-ups will have no choice but to overlook your... creative interpretation of orders."
He stepped closer, still chuckling, and clapped Fujitora on the shoulder.
His fingers tapped. Lightly. Rhythmically.
One. Two. Three.
C. P. 0.
Fujitora went still.
"Anyway!" Sengoku withdrew his hand, his expression unchanged. "I'm starving! You got anything to eat around here? That sea voyage really works up an appetite!"
The gorilla beside him grunted in agreement.
"I have soba. Mustard wheat noodles. I prepared a large quantity this morning."
"Perfect! Lead the way!" Sengoku gestured broadly. The gorilla gestured identically. "Oh? You want some too? Make it two bowls!"
"As you wish."
Staff Officer Sicily hurried forward with two steaming bowls of noodles. Sengoku accepted his with enthusiasm, the gorilla with slightly less grace.
Fujitora stood motionless, his blind eyes fixed on the middle distance. After a moment, he spoke—his voice soft, almost to himself.
"Speaking of which... this old man still owes a certain gentleman a bowl of noodles."
"A certain gentleman?" Sengoku looked up from his breakfast, noodles dangling from his mouth.
Fujitora didn't answer. His attention had shifted skyward.
Sengoku followed his gaze.
A black shape was moving across the morning clouds. Wings of dark fire. A rider in a tattered black cloak. Crimson eyes that gleamed even at this distance.
"THAT'S—!"
Sengoku dropped his chopsticks.
"UCHIHA ITACHI!"
The camp erupted. Marines scrambled for weapons. Officers shouted orders. The Black Fire Crow swept low over the encampment—not attacking, not threatening, simply passing through—and every Marine who saw it felt the cold weight of those crimson eyes sweep across them like a searchlight.
And then it was gone.
"After him! DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE!"
"ALL UNITS—!"
"WAIT!"
Fujitora's voice cut through the chaos. The Marines froze.
"Let him go."
"Admiral Smile?! But—"
"That is an order."
Sengoku watched the distant speck of black fire vanish into the morning haze. He looked at Fujitora. At the Admiral's scarred face. At the strange, unreadable expression in those blind eyes.
Slowly, Sengoku picked up his chopsticks.
"You know, Smile," he said quietly, "I've been in the Navy for over forty years. I've seen a lot of things I can't explain. A lot of people I couldn't categorize."
He took a bite of noodles.
"But you might be the strangest Admiral I've ever met."
Fujitora almost smiled.
"So this old man has been told."
(End of Chapter)
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