The sunlight in Marineford was as warm as ever, pouring through the floor-to-ceiling window and washing over Renzo, baking him just right, like a salted fish comfortably sunbathing on the beach.
He had just finished the perfectly cut grilled fish fillet that a duty soldier had delivered.
Now, he was sinking into that delightful drowsiness that comes from digestion, just one thought away from a satisfying nap.
However, that perfect peace was broken by a series of calm but steady knocks on the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound wasn't loud, but it carried a penetrating firmness that pierced straight into Renzo's domain of laziness.
His brows instantly furrowed, as if someone had drawn an ugly ink mark across the canvas of his perfect idleness.
"...Who is it..." he muttered weakly, not even bothering to lift his eyelids.
"Room service? Didn't they just come...? Must've knocked on the wrong door... what a hassle..."
He tried to drive the visitor away with sheer willpower.
But the knocking paused, and then came a firm, commanding voice, slightly aged, but brimming with military discipline.
"Captain Renzo, I am a messenger sent by Fleet Admiral Sengoku. The Fleet Admiral has ordered you to report to his office immediately."
'Marshal? Sengoku?'
Renzo's sluggish mind processed the words slowly.
That old man who ran the mess hall, strike that, the Marine Headquarters?
An ominous chill crept over him, dousing all warmth from his body.
If Sengoku wanted to see him, it could only mean one thing:
trouble.
Big, unavoidable trouble.
His irritation spiked exponentially. The sheer pressure of his resentment made the messenger outside feel uneasy and fatigued, his hands trembling as he held the message.
"...I'm sick..." Renzo made one last feeble attempt, his voice so weak it could fade away at any moment.
"Terrible cold... dizzy... no strength... need rest... please inform the Fleet Admiral..."
But the messenger was clearly a veteran of this nonsense.
"The Fleet Admiral said that if you claim illness, the Headquarters' elite medical team will arrive within five minutes with full diagnostic equipment to conduct a comprehensive and detailed examination."
Renzo: "..."
In his mind, he could already see a group of white coats surrounding him, machines buzzing and beeping...Just imagining it made him feel suffocated.
In the end, his fear of a full medical examination outweighed his fear of meeting Sengoku.
It took him five full minutes just to crawl out of bed, sluggishly throw on his wrinkled uniform jacket, and inch his way to the door like a half-dead turtle.
When he finally opened it, his dead-fish eyes met the old messenger's weary but disciplined gaze.
"...Lead the way..." Renzo said lifelessly.
"And please... pick the route with fewer people... and more shade..."
Fleet Admiral's Office
When Renzo drifted in like a wandering soul, he found more than just Sengoku inside.
Vice Admiral Tsuru sat on the couch, sipping tea.
Across from her, a brawny, gray-haired old man, Vice Admiral Garp, was happily munching on senbei crackers, crumbs everywhere.
And lounging beside them, legs crossed, was another, Vice Admiral Kizaru, wearing his yellow-striped suit and his usual infuriating smirk.
Nearly half of the Navy's top brass was gathered.
Renzo could feel the "trouble level" in the room. His instincts screamed at him to retreat.
"Captain Renzo," Sengoku adjusted his glasses, trying to sound friendly.
"You've arrived. How have you been adjusting to life at headquarters?"
"...Mm..." Renzo made a vague sound, already scanning the room for somewhere he could sit, or collapse.
Finding none, he resigned himself to standing, his legs silently protesting the unnecessary energy drain.
"That's good," Sengoku nodded, then got to the point.
"I called you here because there's an important mission I need to assign you."
Renzo's pupils shrank.
'Mission?!'
That was a forbidden word!
It meant the ultimate hassle.
He almost blurted out "I refuse", but the thought of losing cafeteria privileges held his tongue. Instead, he just stared blankly at Sengoku, radiating resistance.
Unfazed, Sengoku continued, "According to reliable intel, the captain of the Giant Axe Pirates, 'Mountain Splitter' Jorik Owen, bounty 188 million Berries, is currently spotted near Dessert Island on the first half of the Grand Line, purpose unknown."
"This man is violent and powerful, responsible for destroying multiple Marine warships. He poses a significant threat."
"Therefore, you are ordered to accompany Vice Admiral Gumir and his fleet to subdue him. You will serve as Special Tactical Advisor for this operation."
A flood of words, but Renzo only registered the key phrases.
"Accompany fleet."
"Go subdue."
"Advisor."
'Sailing? Fighting? Advising?'
Each word hit his fragile nerves like a hammer.
"...I... can't..." Renzo finally croaked out, his voice dry and trembling.
"I get seasick... I'm weak... I'll just drag everyone down... and... being an advisor... sounds too troublesome..."
"Now, now~" drawled Kizaru lazily, voice as irritating as ever.
"No need to be so hasty, young man~ I heard the strawberry cream cake on Dessert Island is to die for~. You could try some after the mission~"
Renzo's ears twitched, but soon drooped again.
Risking his life for cake? Not worth it.
Garp burst out laughing, slapping his thigh so hard the couch shook.
"Bwahahaha! What's the matter, kid?! You'll be fine with Gumir around! Just think of it as getting some fresh air!"
Renzo: "..."
He preferred air conditioning.
Vice Admiral Tsuru set down her teacup, speaking calmly but pointedly. "This operation counts as a double S-rank mission merit. The reward can be exchanged for unlimited access to Headquarters' Officer's Mess secret menu, including A-grade Wagyu, deep-sea emperor crab, and limited desserts by guest chefs from the East Blue."
Renzo froze.
'Secret menu? Unlimited access? Limited desserts?'
He stood there silently for three full minutes. The others waited, patient or otherwise; Garp's senbei crunching sounded deafening.
Finally, Renzo's shoulders slumped as though his soul had left him.
"...I'll go..."
Then, almost immediately, he added with one last trace of dignity:
"...But I'm bringing my orderly... to carry my food and make my bed... and... if the enemy looks too troublesome... I reserve the right to make them 'sleep' directly..."
Sengoku and Tsuru exchanged a knowing glance.
A hint of satisfaction flickered in their eyes.
"Agreed," Sengoku said readily.
"The orderly will be arranged. Vice Admiral Gumir will lead the operation; you'll assist as needed."
Renzo let out a long, soul-draining sigh.
"When do we leave?"
"In one hour, Pier No. 7. Vice Admiral Gumir's flagship Rocksteady," Sengoku replied.
"...One hour?!" Renzo looked as if he'd been struck by lightning.
"So soon?! I haven't prepared mentally... or packed..."
"Supplies will be handled by logistics," Tsuru smiled gently.
"As for your mental preparation, you'll have plenty of time on the way."
Renzo turned around like a hollow shell, dragging himself out of the office at a snail's pace.
After he left, Garp burst into even louder laughter.
"Bwahahaha! That kid's hilarious! Even funnier than Kuzan!"
Kizaru pursed his lips, smirking.
"Such a scary assignment~ Hope old Gumir's heart can handle it~"
Sengoku massaged his temples.
"Let's just hope this little test doesn't end in disaster..."
Tsuru calmly lifted her tea again.
"Don't worry. For the sake of his dorm and the cafeteria, he'll 'try his best.'"
Meanwhile, Renzo inched toward the harbor, filled with endless resentment.
"Giant Axe Pirates... even the name's noisy..."
"'Mountain Splitter' Owen? Probably just another muscle-brained idiot... the worst kind..."
"Dessert Island... cake... it'd better be good... or this trip's a total loss..."
He was already debating whether to make that Owen guy "sleep" the moment he saw him,
and take the next boat home.
Thus began the first forced business trip of the so-called "Sleeping King."