A deep horn bellowed across the waves as the massive fleet of warships began to slow.
"Knock, knock." The door of the captain's quarters rattled with brisk knocks.
"Enter."
"Brother Hawk, we're almost at G-3!"
Lark burst in like an excitable bird, her voice ringing bright. Peacock followed quietly behind her.
Renn Hawk stood before a vast map stretched across the wall an intricate, sprawling chart of the Grand Line.
The map was covered in dense markings of red and black ink, crisscrossing into a complex yet purposeful web of strategy.
Turning at Lark's words, Hawk asked, "We're that close already?"
"Mhm! You can even see its outline from the telescope!"
"Let's go have a look."
"Okay!"
"Brother, you should've seen it! The port—"
As Hawk strode from the room, Lark hurried after him, chattering excitedly about what she had glimpsed through the scope.
Peacock's steps, however, faltered.
Ever since her grandmother Vice Admiral Tsuru had pushed her into Hawk's unit, she had been quietly observing the man.
What was it about him that even her grandmother, the Navy's most brilliant strategist, respected so much?
Her gaze fell upon the heavily marked map.
As Tsuru's granddaughter, Peacock had been steeped in strategy since childhood. Her intelligence far outstripped her peers. That was why she had chosen the Whip-Whip Fruit: the Marines had too many brainless brawlers. Someone needed to keep them in line.
But this map…
Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer. Every line, every circle, carried weight. This wasn't idle scribbling it was calculated design.
Hawk hadn't even arrived at G-3, yet he had already drafted a series of campaigns for the future.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Her eyes lingered on several heavily circled areas.
One was a kingdom ringed in thick red: Alabasta.
Beside it, two smaller circles enclosed Mock Town and the nearby Jaya Island.
And farther away, within the fog-choked waters of the Devil's Triangle, a massive question mark loomed.
Her mind raced.
Alabasta the territory of the Warlord of the Sea, Crocodile. What was Hawk's concern there?
Mock Town was a haven for pirates. Cleansing it was reasonable. But why include Jaya alongside it?
And the Devil's Triangle… a place where over a hundred ships vanished every year. Why mark it with a question mark?
For once, Peacock, who had always prided herself on her cleverness, found herself utterly unable to read the intent behind Hawk's strategy.
Yet instead of frustrating her, it sparked something else.
Curiosity.
"Hmph. You've caught my attention, man," she muttered under her breath, folding her arms. "I'll see what you're really planning."
The fleet sailed closer.
The G-3 Branch came into view, its outline sharp in the sunlight. A fortress-island, its massive central stronghold gleamed with a cold brilliance. The enormous letters "G-3" emblazoned across the highest tower glared down at them.
As the warships entered the harbor, thousands of Marines stood in perfect formation along the docks.
Hawk nodded to himself. Their posture was disciplined, their killing intent real the aura of men tempered by blood and fire.
Not as cohesive as his own loyal soldiers, but far superior to the four blues.
"Good," he thought. "But whether it's fortune or misfortune, change is coming for you all."
On the dock, Tashigi adjusted her glasses nervously as she stood at the front of the assembled officers. Beside her stood Smoker, his entire body radiating irritation.
Behind them, their respective troops were lined up in separate blocks. Farther back still, the remnants of G-3's original garrison stood apart, divided like three distinct camps.
Tashigi's pink hair glimmered under the sun. She glanced at the fleet and murmured, "This… this is unbelievable. Smoker, you met Hawk back in the East Blue, didn't you? Do you know why Headquarters would assign such an extravagant fleet to him?"
Smoker clenched his teeth around his cigars and growled, "No idea."
Of course, he wouldn't admit that he had once considered making Hawk his subordinate. That thought now seemed laughable.
Back then, Hawk had only been a rising officer beloved by the East Blue's people.
But after one trip to Headquarters…
He had not only become a Rear Admiral, but somehow wrenched an entire fleet straight out of Fleet Admiral Sengoku's grip.
An entire fleet and among them, three colossal battleships!
Even Smoker himself had only ever boarded such ships during training at Marineford.
"You're jealous," Tashigi said flatly, pushing up her glasses.
"Jealous my ass!" Smoker snapped. "If it weren't for me back then—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
A sudden realization split through the gloom clouding his thoughts.
That's right.
Back in the East Blue, if he hadn't persuaded Kuzan to lend a hand, Hawk wouldn't have been able to handle the Nezumi mess so cleanly.
That was a debt Hawk owed him.
Which meant…
Smoker's eyes lit up.
Surely one of those colossal battleships had to be his.
Yes. Hawk would keep one for himself. Dane, now a Headquarters Captain and Hawk's trusted right hand, would likely claim another.
And the third?
Naturally, it should go to him the White Hunter, Smoker.
The thought of sailing the seas at the helm of a giant warship made his chest swell with pride. The envy weighing on him evaporated, replaced with a smug anticipation.
"Heh."
The corners of his mouth curled up, his mood lifting visibly.
Tashigi blinked at him, puzzled.
"Smoker… why are you smiling all of a sudden?"
"None of your business!" he barked, though the grin refused to leave his face.
The fleet docked.
Renn Hawk descended the gangplank, flanked by Lark and Peacock.
His gaze swept over the harbor's divided troops… and settled at last on Smoker.
To his surprise, the man's face was actually split by a smile.
"Oh?"
Hawk's brow lifted.
Smoker, forced under his command, smiling?
No matter.
He'd wipe that smile off soon enough.
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