Chapter 2 – The Sky Screen Opens
Marine Headquarters, Marineford
"Report, Fleet Admiral! We've received the same reports from all over the world—the sky screen above us isn't an isolated phenomenon. It's visible in all four seas and the Grand Line!"
Fleet Admiral Sengoku listened to his subordinate's report, feeling a headache coming on. At first, he thought this was just some Devil Fruit user's prank, but the situation was turning out to be far more complicated than he'd imagined.
"Haha, Sengoku, so even you have days like this. Being a Vice Admiral is just so much more comfortable, not nearly as many troubles."
The only person who would mock the Fleet Admiral to his face was his best friend—Navy Hero, father of the Revolutionary Army's leader, grandfather of the future Pirate King, and a certain old man who liked to pick his nose and steal senbei—Garp.
"Garp, you're stealing my snacks again. Where does all that Navy salary of yours go?"
Sengoku marched over to his old friend, snatched the senbei from Garp's hand, and shoved it straight into his own mouth. He had bought those with his own money—he'd rather eat them himself than let anyone else have them.
"A Vice Admiral's salary isn't enough for my expenses! How about you file a report and get me some extra allowances?"
"Don't even think about it." Sengoku could barely manage to keep Garp's current status as Vice Admiral. He'd already negotiated endlessly with the Celestial Dragons and the Five Elders. With Garp's son being a revolutionary who wants to overturn the world, just not getting Garp fired was already a favor.
The two old friends exchanged a few more jabs before shifting the topic to the sky screen. "That sky screen is a real wild card. Everyone in the world can chat on it—it's a riot. Even the Four Emperors' pirate crews are joining in."
Garp, the Navy Hero, tested the sky screen's toughness with his iron fist, covering his punch in top-level Armament Haki. But his attack passed right through the screen without affecting it in the slightest. It simply ignored any damage.
Then Admiral Akainu had a go, firing some magma at the sky screen—the result was the same. The screen was immune to any attack. It might even be more advanced than a Devil Fruit ability.
Just then, a silver-haired woman stormed in—Vice Admiral Tsuru, the Navy's chief strategist. She dumped a thick stack of papers onto Sengoku's desk. "The sky screen's mostly filled with a bunch of bored pirates talking nonsense. There's no point recording any of these conversations. Sengoku, this mess is yours. Give it to someone else."
The sky screen had appeared all over the world in an instant. Ten days had passed since. On Sengoku's orders, Tsuru was documenting the new phenomenon's features and using the chat logs to monitor pirate activities, hoping to glean more intelligence.
Under her leadership, the Navy's strategy division had analyzed the sky screen's characteristics:
1. Anyone who speaks on the sky screen will have their real name displayed.
2. All messages must be truthful—the Navy tested this. Lies simply would not be posted by the screen.
3. The screen ignores spatial boundaries; anyone, anywhere, can leave a message.
Because of this third feature, the sky screen's content was a total jumble. Some were looking for lost relatives, others were tracking down pirates, and many were just flinging insults in epic flame wars that ran for thousands of replies—sometimes even revealing their location and getting busted by the Navy for their trouble.
With this open platform, people could accuse the Celestial Dragons of crimes, complain about oppressive rulers, or leak secrets about pirate crews. It happened all the time. The world's opinion of the Celestial Dragons only got worse, so it was no wonder the Five Elders wanted the Navy to shut the sky screen down. Getting roasted by name in public was no fun.
In short, there were no major crises, just an endless pile of minor headaches. The Navy was already stretched thin, and now they had to assign people just to monitor the sky screen. Tsuru could only protest to her old friend, asking Sengoku to take the order back.
"Tsuru, I know it's tough. Please, just hang in there a few more days. If nothing big happens, we can ease up and not dedicate so many people to this."
Sengoku was always polite to Tsuru, unlike his rough banter with Garp. Her contributions to the Navy were every bit as great as the "Hero's," and unlike a certain Vice Admiral, she never made a mess.
At lunchtime, Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru headed to the cafeteria together. After all, eating at the government's expense meant every free meal was a win.
"The sky screen is changing—look!" Tsuru pointed at the sky, drawing Sengoku and Garp's attention.
The screen, once crowded with endless chat messages, was now completely cleared. No one could post anything. The background turned pitch black, and across it, a line of blood-red text appeared:
In one day, the sky screen will review Devil Fruit users who have had a profound influence on the world's future. Each of them stands at the very peak of the sea. The sky screen will pierce through time—past and future—revealing their life stories, hidden strengths, ambitions, and their impact on the world. Key moments from their most decisive battles will be shown. The whole world, please look forward to it!
"Is that even possible? To know what will happen in the future? Too bad I'm not a Devil Fruit user." Even the always carefree Garp couldn't ignore this—no one knew what the future might hold. The current generation of marines had worked themselves to the bone, and the Warlord system had become a joke, a slap in the face to justice.
"Sengoku, do you know of a Devil Fruit that could do this?"
Tsuru was already old and didn't have much hope for herself, but she worried about the future of the Navy, and of her granddaughter, Hina. Some things were already slipping out of the Navy's control. If the sky screen showed a brutal future, how was the Navy supposed to face it?
"So annoying—I can't even eat in peace. Tsuru, notify the Vice Admirals—call everyone for a meeting."
Sengoku rubbed his head. Even after inheriting the wisdom of the Buddha with his Devil Fruit, he'd never encountered anything like this. He had no idea what kind of future awaited the Navy.
It wasn't just the Navy who cared about their own fate. The World Government's Five Elders were even more nervous, always alert for any prophecies involving Joy Boy. Eight hundred years had passed and they never dared relax. Was this sky screen connected to Joy Boy? That guy's shadow just wouldn't go away.
All the pirate crews, great and small, stopped their battles as soon as they got the news, preparing for a grand feast to welcome the coming spectacle. Getting mentioned by the sky screen would be the highest honor, making a name for themselves before the whole world—a pirate's ultimate dream.
Meanwhile, the Revolutionary Army, hidden in various kingdoms, temporarily halted their subversive missions. On Dragon's order, they too awaited the "future" promised by the sky screen…
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