Marineford.
The colossal naval base of the Marines rose like a steel mountain range over the sea, government buildings towering skyward like military fortresses.
Kisame followed behind Kizaru, eyes flicking over the vast halls with a mix of wariness and curiosity—until they came to a stop outside one particular office.
Without so much as a knock, Kizaru casually pushed the door open like it was his own living room.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku, I've brought Kisame!"
At the sound of his voice, the man behind the desk lifted his head, adjusting his glasses. Without missing a beat, he stuffed the thick stack of papers he was reviewing into the mouth of a nearby goat.
Wait, what? Kisame blinked.
What kind of monster feeds official documents to a goat?
Forget that—was that even legal?!
Just what kind of madhouse was the Navy running here?
Let's see, he'd already met:
a donkey that naps standing up,
a broke playboy admiral,
and now a goat-abusing bureaucrat.
Was this the infamous "bad top leads to crooked bottom" thing people talked about?
Please don't let me go crooked too!!
"Come in already," Kizaru called over his shoulder, when he noticed Kisame still frozen in the doorway.
Snapped out of his thoughts, Kisame stepped into the room and finally got a good look at the man they called Fleet Admiral Sengoku.
First impression: big.
Second impression: really big.
Even seated, the guy's massive afro made him tower over Kisame. Behind his bookish, frog-shaped glasses was a stern face with a beard braided like a rope, and that face?
It looked like it could stare down a kaiju into submission.
The man was built like a mountain, radiating the kind of pressure that made your lungs forget how to work.
Yep. Definitely the boss.
Kisame instantly gave up on having a height complex. At this point, it was just self-harm.
Note to self: Find a Devil Fruit that makes people taller. Eat immediately.
Sengoku spoke, his voice as heavy as his presence.
"Kizaru and Garp already briefed me on your situation."
"I'm appointing you as a Marineford Captain. That's the highest rank I can give you without needing to report it up to the World Government."
"Anything beyond that would require military merits—which, frankly, you don't have."
Simple. Direct. No-nonsense.
As Sengoku explained, his sharp eyes were already assessing Kisame.
Not tall, not bulky by New World standards, and clearly a fishman…
But that power—water manipulation. A natural counter to most Devil Fruit users. And that move he'd used to trap Kaido? Even Sengoku himself wasn't confident he could break free from something like that.
This guy was more than promising. He was a potential monster in the making.
And if you peeled back the glittering coat of the Navy's public image…
The truth was, they were desperate for usable talent.
Their elite force? A chaotic mess.
One aging war freak who couldn't stop talking about family dinners.
One red-eyed mad dog who screamed "justice" while blurring the line between marine and pirate.
One emotionally scarred insomniac chicken who went into winter hibernation at the first sign of stress.
And the last one— Sengoku looked up briefly toward the ceiling— Let's not even mention him.
Given all the weirdos he had to work with these days, Sengoku actually found himself… kind of looking forward to what Kisame could bring to the table.
If the guy had even half a work ethic, it wouldn't take two years before he got promoted to Vice Admiral. Hell, maybe even Admiral wasn't out of the question.
"Are you a Devil Fruit user?"
Sengoku's sharp gaze zeroed in on Kisame.
To date, not even in the most obscure reports had there been mention of a Devil Fruit that could control seawater. Fishmen could manipulate currents, sure—but nothing like what this guy had pulled off.
So Sengoku figured—had to be some kind of Devil Fruit.
And if there really was a fruit that could control seawater? That was something he needed to know more about.
Kisame blinked at the question, then suddenly remembered the technique he'd used during the fight with Kaido.
He hesitated for a beat, then decided there wasn't much point in hiding it.
Even if he didn't say anything, people were gonna find out sooner or later.
"No. I'm not a Devil Fruit user," he said plainly.
"I'm a ninja. What I used against Kaido—that was ninjutsu."
He opened his palm, letting blue chakra flare to life.
Then, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings, he followed up immediately.
"Water Style: Water Clone Jutsu!"
With a splash of water, a perfect copy of himself formed beside him.
Sengoku was stunned.
This… was ninjutsu?
Was he being pranked?
Did this guy think Sengoku had never seen a Wano ninja before?
Both Sengoku and Kizaru stood there like statues, jaws slack as they stared at the clone.
Ninjas weren't rare.
The Navy even had a few officers from Wano who claimed to be ninjas.
But this guy?
This guy looked like the real deal—and suddenly, all Sengoku could think about was how fake his own so-called ninja recruits now seemed by comparison.
"You're really a ninja?"
"Totally not a Devil Fruit user?"
Sengoku still sounded like he was in disbelief, his mood now a tangled knot of confusion and mild existential crisis.
Why did his ninjas use Navy Rokushiki, but this guy got to do actual ninja magic?
Where had he gone wrong?
It wasn't Kisame who disappointed him—no, Kisame was fine.
It was his own people who were embarrassing.
Nothing hurts like a good comparison.
"I am a ninja," Kisame said earnestly, not understanding why both men looked like they'd just swallowed a live sea king.
"…Fine," Sengoku muttered after a long, silent sigh.
He pulled open a drawer, grabbed a folder, and slid it across the desk.
"Sign this. You're now a Headquarters Captain in the Navy."
Kisame didn't think much of it—just a piece of paper, after all. It's not like it could really bind him.
After signing, Sengoku spoke:
"From this moment on, you're officially a Headquarters Captain in the Navy."
"As for your personnel assignment, that'll take some time to process…
In the meantime, get familiar with how things work around here. I'll have Kizaru take you to Zephyr. Let him teach you a thing or two."
"You still know nothing about the Navy, after all…"
Then he turned to Kizaru, "Kizaru, take Kisame and his people to Zephyr. Perfect timing—the elite training camp just started. Have them train alongside the new recruits."
Kizaru gave a lazy nod. That worked for him—less hassle all around.
Seeing Sengoku already buried in paperwork again, clearly in "now get out" mode, Kizaru opened his mouth:
"Marshal, about that bonus…?"
"Bonus?" Sengoku looked up, puzzled. "I added it to your paycheck next month."
"…Seriously? Fine, whatever."
Kizaru exhaled. He was already broke—his pockets had less in them than a monk's calendar. And now the bonus he was counting on got delayed?
Time to tighten the belt and eat instant ramen like a college kid.
Slightly sulking, Kizaru led Kisame and his crew away from HQ and over to a smaller base nearby.
When the guards spotted Kizaru, they immediately opened the gates.
Just like that, Kisame and his group officially entered the Navy.
Once inside the training camp, Kizaru brought them to an outdoor operations area. The training field was bustling—young Navy recruits were sweating buckets as they trained hard.
Standing at the edge of the field was a tall, broad-shouldered man with purple hair, wearing sunglasses and a face cut from stone.
Another tall guy.
At this point, in a world where everyone seemed to be three meters tall, Kisame felt fully defeated.
With his height, if not for his distinctive look, people might just mistake him for a generic ninja extra.
When they approached the purple-haired giant, even Kizaru's usual sleazy grin toned down a bit.
"Zephyr-sensei," he said, voice unusually respectful. "Sengoku asked me to bring them here."
"Ah, Kizaru, good to see you. Sengoku told me—said this one's something special," Zephyr turned around and scanned the group. "So… where is he?"
"…" Kizaru.
"…" Kisame.
"…" Everyone else.
Kisame had the sinking feeling that this was, hands down, the single most insulting thing he'd heard in his entire life.
No contest.
(End of Chapter)
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Just finished with the match. The pinnacle of sport - A match for the ages. The magic of yamal felt a bit short but nothing was gonna pierce through Sommer's wall, That was the end of flick's legendary saga this season, But There was Inzaghi — Resolute and Unshaken, from the night of Istanbul to the münchen , there is the final conviction for him and there is no way he is gonna fell short this time, finally, to claim the throne
And another Clasico awaits tomorrow — Enrique vs Arteta. The battle for the first-ever trophy.Who's gonna come out on top? Hit me up on Discord (meet101) — would love to hear your thoughts and comments on football.