The next day, at Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
The conference room reserved for the Marine's top brass was filled with tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Seated around the massive oak table were some of the most powerful figures in the World Government's military forces, their faces grim as they processed the latest intelligence reports.
At the head of the table sat a large man whose very presence seemed to radiate cold authority. Admiral Akainu wore his standard dark red suit beneath his Marine coat, the fabric immaculate despite the volcanic temperament of its wearer. His black leather gloves creaked slightly as he clenched his fists, and the Marine cap cast a shadow over his perpetually stern expression.
With a sharp crack that echoed through the room, Akainu slammed the morning newspaper down on the conference table, his eyes blazing with barely controlled fury as he glared at his fellow Admiral.
"Borsalino!" Akainu's voice boomed through the room like an erupting volcano. "What the hell were you doing out there?!"
"He was just some unknown punk! You actually let him escape in front of the entire world?!"
The target of Akainu's rage sat casually in his chair, long legs crossed and posture as relaxed as if he were lounging on a beach somewhere. Admiral Kizaru seemed completely unmoved by his colleague's outburst, having long since grown accustomed to Akainu's explosive temperament.
There was no way Kizaru would admit that he had underestimated his opponent. The truth was, he'd had no real understanding of Jerry's capabilities and had initially dismissed him as nothing more than an ordinary troublemaker. That miscalculation had led to the current embarrassing situation, but Kizaru's pride wouldn't allow him to acknowledge such a basic tactical error.
Not far from Kizaru's left, a third figure remained blissfully unaware of the heated exchange. Admiral Aokiji lay slumped in his chair, his distinctive curly afro barely visible beneath a green sleep mask. His white suit was slightly wrinkled from his relaxed position, and soft snoring sounds indicated that Akainu's shouting hadn't disturbed his peaceful slumber in the slightest.
The conference room housed the cream of the Marine's leadership. In addition to the three Admirals, Fleet Admiral Sengoku sat at the head of the table, his distinctive braided beard and frog-shaped glasses giving him a deceptively grandfatherly appearance that belied his strategic brilliance. Beside him, the legendary Vice Admiral Garp munched contentedly on a bag of rice crackers, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of the situation. Several other Vice Admirals filled out the gathering, their faces reflecting varying degrees of concern and frustration.
The topic that had dominated their discussion for the past hour was the emergence of two particularly troublesome pirates: "Fire Fist" Ace, who had audaciously rejected an invitation to join the Seven Warlords of the Sea, and "Dragon Fist" Jerry, who had caused significant property damage in Sabaody Archipelago and managed to escape after a prolonged chase with Admiral Kizaru.
Fresh copies of the World Economic News lay before each attendee, the headlines screaming about these two rookie pirates who had been at sea for barely six months yet were already making waves that reached the highest levels of the World Government.
"Oh my, you have no idea how slippery that guy was," Kizaru replied to Akainu's tirade, picking at his ear with characteristic nonchalance. "He led me on quite the merry chase. Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands."
"Enough! Both of you, stop this bickering immediately!" Fleet Admiral Sengoku's voice cut through the argument like a blade. He rubbed his temples with obvious frustration, feeling the familiar ache of a stress headache building behind his eyes. "Fire Fist Ace, Dragon Fist Jerry... one problem after another. First they've rejected the Warlord invitation outright."
"Hahaha! Sengoku, what are you getting so worked up about?" Garp's cheerful voice rang out between crunches of his snacks. "So what if he rejected the Warlord position? That whole system isn't particularly useful anyway, if you ask me."
Crumbs scattered across the table as Garp gestured enthusiastically with his food, completely oblivious to the scandalized expressions of several Vice Admirals.
"Garp! We're in an official meeting!" Sengoku snapped, his voice rising an octave. "Show some decorum!"
After decades of working alongside the uncontrollable Vice Admiral, Sengoku sometimes wondered if his job stress was going to give him an early grave. His salary certainly hadn't increased to compensate for the headaches Garp regularly provided.
Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, Sengoku addressed the room with renewed authority. "Everyone, the situation is clear. These two rookie pirates require our immediate attention. I want increased surveillance and intelligence gathering on both the Spade Pirates and their associates."
He placed his palm firmly on the table, covering two freshly printed bounty posters. The photographs showed clear images of both Jerry and Ace, their bounty amounts displayed in stark black numbers below their faces.
Both bounties in nine-digit figures, though Ace's was significantly higher. The World Government was clearly taking these new threats seriously.
Meanwhile, in the New World aboard the legendary ship Moby Dick...
"Gurararara! How interesting! Such fascinating youngsters have appeared in Paradise!"
The booming laughter echoed across the deck, drawing the attention of every crew member within earshot. The source of the mirth was an imposing figure seated in a massive chair—a man whose very presence seemed to command the respect of the ocean itself.
Edward Newgate, better known to the world as Whitebeard, was a living legend. His massive frame was draped in a white coat with red interior, revealing the powerful muscles that had earned him the title of "World's Strongest Man." His distinctive white crescent-shaped mustache curved upward as he grinned, and his famous naginata rested within easy reach.
The newspaper crinkled in his enormous hands as he continued to chuckle over whatever had captured his interest.
"Pops! What's got you so entertained?"
A blonde man with droopy eyes approached the ship's patriarch, curiosity evident in his expression. Marco, the Phoenix and First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, had served as Whitebeard's right-hand man long enough to recognize when something had genuinely caught the old man's attention.
"Gurararara! This brat hasn't even reached the New World yet, but he's already telling the World Government where they can shove their Warlord invitation!"
Whitebeard's grin widened as he handed the newspaper to Marco, clearly delighted by the audacity of the young pirate in question.
Marco scanned the bounty poster and headline, his eyes widening slightly as he processed the information. "Fire Fist Portgas D. Ace... that name sounds familiar. I think I've heard it somewhere before."
"Oh yeah, I remember now!" Thatch, the Fourth Division Commander, approached with his distinctive pompadour hairstyle and chef's apron. "He made headlines a while back for taking down one of the Warlords, didn't he?"
"That's right!" Marco snapped his fingers as the memory clicked into place. "And now he's turned down the chance to become one himself. Either this kid has incredible confidence or he's completely insane."
"Maybe both," Thatch mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "These new generation pirates are getting more unpredictable by the day."
Around the world, similar conversations were taking place as news of the Sabaody incident spread through newspapers and word of mouth. While civilians worried about yet another dangerous pirate crew making waves, professional pirates, bounty hunters, and Marines studied the reports with keen interest.
Most of the attention focused on Ace—after all, defeating a Warlord and then rejecting an invitation to join their ranks was unprecedented behavior that demanded respect, if not admiration.
Jerry's involvement was generally dismissed as a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The official reports described him as a lucky troublemaker who happened to be with Fire Fist when things went sideways, managing to escape through fortune rather than skill.
Deep beneath the ocean's surface, 10,000 meters below sea level...
"Woohoo! We finally made it to Fishman Island!"
The moment the Spade Pirates' ship came to a stop at the underwater port, the crew erupted in enthusiastic cheers. After the harrowing journey through the deep-sea currents, avoiding massive sea creatures and navigating in complete darkness, the sight of the magnificent underwater kingdom was almost too good to be true.
"Mermaid Cafe, here I come!" one crew member shouted, practically bouncing with excitement.
"I want to see the coral forests!"
"Those underwater shops look incredible!"
The journey to reach Fishman Island had been everything the legends claimed—treacherous, nerve-wracking, and absolutely beautiful in equal measure. The deep-sea route was notorious for claiming seventy percent of the ships that attempted it, even those with proper coating. Turbulent underwater currents, massive sea creatures, and the crushing pressure of the deep ocean combined to create one of the most dangerous passages in the world.
"Thank God we had local guides," Deuce muttered, wiping sweat from his brow as he recalled some of the close calls they'd experienced. "Without Dora and her sisters showing us the safe currents, we might still be wandering around down there."
"Don't think about it too much," Jerry advised with a grin. "We made it safe and sound, and now we get to explore one of the most amazing places in the world. Let's just enjoy ourselves!"
"Right! Time to explore!" several crew members chorused before rushing off the ship in various directions, their voices echoing with excitement as they scattered into the underwater kingdom.
Within minutes, the ship that had been bustling with nearly twenty crew members was suddenly quiet, with only a handful of people remaining on deck.
Jerry spotted Deuce emerging from the cabin with a thoughtful expression and called out to him. "Hey Deuce, where are you planning to go first?"
"Me? I should probably keep an eye on Ace, then stock up on supplies and maybe find some local specialties," Deuce replied, adjusting his glasses as he mentally went through his checklist of responsibilities. "Someone needs to make sure our captain doesn't get into too much trouble."
Jerry's expression turned amused. "You might want to pick up the pace then. Ace slipped away about ten minutes ago."
"What?! Ace is already gone?!" Deuce's eyes went wide behind his glasses, panic creeping into his voice.
"Haha! Boss Deuce, at the rate you're moving, by the time you find Captain Ace, you'll only be able to wash dishes at whatever restaurant he's eating at!" Skull's distinctive laughter rang out, his skull mask clicking as he spoke.
Deuce groaned and rushed toward the gangplank, already calculating which direction their impulsive captain might have wandered off in.
Jerry chuckled as he watched Deuce's frantic departure. Even underwater, some things never changed.
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