"This is Krieg. Requesting a secure line, over."
I had traveled to the neighboring Fausse Island Navy Base specifically to borrow a rare White Den Den Mushi. Its psychic frequency jammer was the only way to ensure the World Government's ears stayed out of my business with Fleet Admiral Sengoku.
Click. "Speak. What is it?"
"Reporting on Marshall D. Teach of the Whitebeard Pirates, the primary suspect in the 'Skull Mask' investigation."
"So, you encountered Whitebeard. Was there any trouble?"
"A chance meeting on the waves, nothing more. As for Teach, his physical profile matches the reports—roughly three meters tall, male.
He claims to have been with the Whitebeard crew during the incidents, and while that provides an alibi, it's a familial testimony. Biased, to say the least."
"The facts are too thin," Sengoku sighed. "A match in height and gender isn't enough for a conviction. If he has an alibi, perhaps it truly is a different man?"
"With all due respect, sir, that's a premature conclusion. It's entirely possible Whitebeard is providing cover.
While his link to Ohara is unclear, the Mary Geoise raid perfectly aligns with a motive to liberate Fish-Men taken from his territory.
Furthermore, anyone on that ship possesses the combat strength to repel CP9. But the detail that struck me most? When I asked about his hobbies, he answered, 'historical research.' Given the Skull Mask's involvement in the Ohara incident... It's a striking coincidence."
"I see... and your conclusion?"
"My personal assessment: Name, physique, gender, and interests all align. His strength is a given. While I can't call him 'Black' yet, he is certainly not 'White.' He remains a deep shade of 'Gray.' I intend to dig further."
"Understood. I'll relay the profile to the Government. Also, regarding your transfer back to the North Blue next month..."
"Yes, sir. Is there a change in plans?"
"I've informed Rear Admiral Stainless of the Northern Command, but we've lost contact with our operative embedded in Doflamingo's crew.
We can no longer track his precise location. You'll have to hunt the Donquixote Family down the old-fashioned way."
...So, Corazon's time is running out.
"Understood, sir. I'll coordinate with Stainless-san. Krieg out."
I hung up, rubbing my temples. Maintaining this formal 'Military' persona is exhausting, I thought.
Ten days passed on Fausse Island. Between overseeing the Pure Gold installation and managing the logistics of a hundred refugees, my desk was buried in paperwork.
Late one night, as I was drafting a progress report for the Amber Lead treatment, a soft knock-knock echoed through the study.
"Come in," I called out.
The door creaked open to reveal Robin and Monet.
"Sorry to bother you so late, Uncle," Robin said with a soft smile. "Do you have a moment?"
"We have a small favor to ask," Monet added, looking a bit nervous.
I gestured for them to sit. As I moved to prepare drinks, Robin waved me back down.
"You stay put. Monet and I will handle it."
I watched them head to the kitchenette. Robin whispered to Monet, "Make sure you put plenty of milk and sugar in his—Uncle likes it sweet."
It was a domestic, peaceful scene that felt far removed from the blood-soaked decks of the Grand Line. They returned with three steaming cups of coffee.
"Alright," I said, taking a sip of the syrupy brew. "Robin, let's start with you. What's on your mind?"
"Do you remember what you told me after the Ohara incident?" she asked, her gaze steady.
"I remember. I told you that in five years, I'd teach you everything you needed to survive on your own. I asked you to wait until then before you went searching for the truth."
"Well... I'm sixteen now," she said. "I think it's time I stood on my own two feet. I came here tonight to tell you that I'm ready to leave."
My heart sank slightly, though I had expected this. "Your desire to find the Poneglyphs hasn't changed? You know you can stay here as long as you want. I can protect you."
"These past six years... they've been the happiest of my life," Robin said, her voice trembling slightly. "There were days I thought about staying here forever.
I even let an extra year slip by because I was scared to leave this peace. But I have to carry on the will of my mother and the Professors. And more importantly..."
"More importantly?"
"I don't want to live under your protection forever. I don't want to just be guarded by you."
I opened my mouth to argue that she was strong—she could likely hold her own against a Marine Captain now—but she cut me off.
"Don't misunderstand. It's not about how strong I am. It's about who I want to be. I don't want to be someone who is hidden away. I want to be a person who can stand as an equal by your side. If I stay here, I'll always just be the girl you saved."
An equal... I looked at her and saw the tear-streaked child from six years ago replaced by a woman with a gaze as resolute as a rising sun.
"You've grown up," I muttered, my voice thick with pride.
"Uncle?"
"Nothing. We'll discuss the details tomorrow. It's late, and sleep is the enemy of good work—and your complexion. Get some rest."
"Hehe, look who's talking," she teased, glancing at my own dark circles.
"Men don't need beauty sleep," I grunted. I turned to Monet. "And you? You said you had a favor as well?"
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