When Ron finished his story, Ace's face flickered through Rayleigh's mind — and then Rouge's.
The same freckles.
One vanished twenty years ago.
One was born twenty years ago.
Both bore the surname: Portgas.
Did he take his mother's name to avoid Marine pursuit?
As the clues snapped together, Rayleigh's mind detonated.
BOOM—
His thoughts went white. The blast wave shredded his soul into confetti, leaving only hollow silence.
A violent aura flooded the tavern.
Black-red lightning raged in the air as the old legend vented his fury.
Murderous grief rolled off him in waves.
Why.
Why did that bastard Roger entrust Rouge and the child to Garp instead of me?
Did the ties between us end the moment the crew disbanded…?
Twenty months of pregnancy — the pain was unimaginable.
Sengoku's eyes hardened. "What are you doing?!"
Behind him, Momousagi flared Armament Haki, projecting it outward. An invisible wall formed in front of Sengoku, holding back the shock.
Something was wrong — not just Rayleigh's loss of control, but Ron's tale itself. Familiar… and yet not.
Rem and Ram went pale under the crushing pressure. Even braced for combat, their knees wobbled. Tables crashed, the floor buckled and curled.
"Alright, that's enough," Ron muttered, tapping the counter.
With a resounding crack, a second tide of Conqueror's Haki surged from him.
Two tyrannies collided. The shock punched a hole in the low clouds above, scattering them to the horizon. For an instant, Ron seemed to stand above heaven and earth, everything else bending to his will.
A voice wrapped in Armament slipped quietly into Rayleigh's ear:
"If you've pieced it together, calm down. Losing control only makes Sengoku suspicious."
Rayleigh's bloodshot eyes slowly cleared. The dueling conquerors faded from the air.
He didn't press the subject. Instead, he changed it. "The boss has Conqueror's Haki as well?"
Sengoku and Momousagi turned to Ron, equally stunned.
"Just self-defense," Ron said lazily. "Otherwise I wouldn't dare run a bar on lawless Sabaody."
"..."
All three faces darkened.
Who calls Conqueror's Haki 'self-defense'?!
Plenty in the New World wield it, but precious few control it so cleanly — and Ron was barely past twenty.
Sengoku made up his mind, sweetening the deal on the spot. "Join the Marines. I'll appoint you Rear Admiral candidate immediately. In a few years — when I retire and one of the Admirals becomes Fleet Admiral — I'll back you for Admiral."
His original offer had been Vice Admiral at best. But he'd seen the crater where Tea Dolphin fell — a single blow, massive damage, yet only light injuries. That level of control… only Garp could rival it. Add in what Ron had just shown with Conqueror's Haki, and the picture was clear: groom him, and the Marines would birth a force beyond even Garp.
Momousagi's eyes flashed with envy. She'd spent years grinding for promotion — and Ron had earned more in one punch than she had in a decade. But to her, it wasn't unfair. At Marine HQ, ability ruled.
"Uh…" Rayleigh rubbed his hands, flushing. "Sengoku, any chance for me?"
"The gates of Impel Down, Level 6, are always open for you," Sengoku said dryly.
"Tch. Still no sense of humor," Rayleigh snorted, sipping his tonic while glaring sidelong at Ron. If the boy agreed, Rayleigh would bolt and never set foot in this bar again.
Ron chuckled. "Quite the offer." Without the Multiverse Tavern System, he would have said yes. For safety and comfort, there was no better shelter than the world's largest institution.
"Sorry. I'm not interested in joining the Marines. I—"
Before "refuse" could leave his lips, Sengoku raised a hand. "Take your time. No need to answer now."
Momousagi stiffened. She'd expected a quick, clean recruitment — not a flat rejection and Sengoku's patience.
Ron sighed. "If you want peace on the seas, recruiting a bartender isn't the cure-all."
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