The next morning.
At Marineford's harbor, several vice admiral–class warships waited in full battle readiness.
Carrying a simple pack, Rain stepped onto Vice Admiral Sakazuki's battleship, its deck steeped in a suffocating aura of killing intent.
Today he wore a completely ordinary pair of black-framed glasses, which added a faint scholarly air to his sharp, handsome face.
He'd barely set foot on deck when he spotted a familiar figure struggling with a fallen luggage crate—trying to lift it, only to trip over a rope and fall flat on his back.
Rain walked over and calmly extended a hand.
"Th-thank you! You're really nice!" "Big Golden Retriever" Rosinante grabbed his hand and scrambled up, patting himself off while bowing his head in thanks.
Rain said nothing.
When Rosinante realized the other person wasn't responding, he looked up in confusion and saw a stranger.
Only then did Rain slowly take off his glasses.
"R–Rain?!" Rosinante's eyes almost popped out. "W-when did you start wearing glasses? I didn't recognize you at all just now!"
"Just got them. Still getting used to it," Rain replied casually, while thinking, As expected of system goods—this thing works perfectly.
"So, why are you on Vice Admiral Sakazuki's ship?"
"It's Mr. Sengoku…" Rosinante muttered, deflated. "He said my training wasn't ruthless enough, so he… shoved me onto this ship to let Vice Admiral Sakazuki 'temper' me…"
Rain looked at his guileless face and had only one thought:
Sengoku… you really sent your foster son here to die?
Just then, a cold, hoarse voice tinged with sulphur drifted over from behind them.
"So, Zephyr-sensei's new recruits… are you two."
They spun around.
A towering man stood before them, wearing a Justice-clad vice admiral's coat, a cigar clamped in his mouth. Beneath the coat, completely at odds with his rank, was a dark red floral shirt.
His sharply chiseled face carried a natural cruelty and brutality.
Vice Admiral Sakazuki.
Rosinante froze, then fumbled into a salute. "G-good morning, sir!"
Rain stood at attention and saluted crisply. "Corvo Rain, reporting for duty, sir!"
Sakazuki's gaze swept briefly over Rosinante; naked contempt flickered in those harsh, predatory eyes.
Then he turned to Rain, eyes boring into him like he meant to see through to his bones.
"I don't care what kind of soft-hearted crap Zephyr-sensei drilled into you."
His voice wasn't loud, but it crushed even the sound of the sea.
"On my ship, justice has only one meaning: Absolute Justice."
"Even a moment's hesitation toward evil is blasphemy against justice."
"What you will do is rip evil out by the root—leave it no chance to grow back. Is that clear?!"
"Yes, sir!!!" Rosinante yelled, voice cracking with fear.
Rain's reply was calm as ever. "Yes, Vice Admiral."
Sakazuki held his gaze on Rain for a moment longer.
The steady calm in this recruit was more surprising than Rosinante's panic.
He said nothing more, turned away, looked out across the endless sea, and blew a thick stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth.
"Cast off."
At his command, the steel beast beneath them roared and slowly pulled away from Marineford.
…
Three days after leaving Marineford—
The weather over the first half of the Grand Line was as fickle as a child's mood.
Clear skies one second, howling storm the next.
On Sakazuki's warship, the atmosphere matched the worst of that weather: heavy, suffocating, and steeped in lethal intent.
It was an entirely different world from the recruit camp.
The sailors onboard all wore blank faces, their movements as coldly efficient as machines.
They rarely spoke to one another. On deck, aside from the sound of waves and shouted orders, there was nothing but silence.
In this environment, "Big Golden Retriever" Rosinante was a walking disaster.
His clumsiness was magnified a hundredfold.
He'd trip over his own feet on deck and kick over water buckets.
He'd spill scalding coffee on his own hand while serving an officer, yelping and drawing icy stares from everyone around.
During drills, he simply couldn't keep up with the intensity of Sakazuki's regimen.
In just three days, he'd become a joke on this ship.
Sakazuki had long since stopped bothering to be angry at his incompetence. He treated Rosinante like thin air.
That bone-deep indifference and contempt hurt more than direct insults.
Rain was the complete opposite.
He kept mostly to himself and kept his bunk and gear immaculate. Every day, he threw himself into training with what appeared to be full effort, perfectly playing the role of a solid Elite Camp graduate.
He neither mocked nor avoided Rosinante.
On a ship where everyone else moved like emotionless machines, Rain had become the only person Rosinante could hold a real conversation with.
During breaks, Rosinante would shuffle over with two bottles of water, one for Rain, and complain in a whisper about how awful the food was or how terrifying Vice Admiral Sakazuki seemed.
Rain mostly just listened, occasionally offering a noncommittal "mm," without adding much.
He knew all Rosinante really needed wasn't a solution, but emotional relief—to have someone willing to listen on this cold, unforgiving ship.
Rain didn't mind being that listener.
Like right now—he was doing push-ups while Rosinante rambled nearby, and at the same time, he was thinking, I wonder when I'll finally get to clock in.
As if in answer—
Bweep—bweep—! The shrill alarm from the lookout tower split the silence on deck.
"Pirate ship sighted, bearing three o'clock!!"
"Confirmed! It's the 'Broken Finger' Pirates! Bounty: 35 million Berries!"
Whoosh—!
The dead-still deck sprang into motion.
Every sailor snapped into combat readiness. The cold tension hardened into killing intent that thickened the air.
Sweat beaded in Rosinante's palms. This was his first real pirate engagement.
Rain sprang up from the deck, wearing the perfect blend of nervousness and excitement.
Finally. A crew worth 35 million… dozens of people on board at least. This haul should be decent. Nice.
"Battle stations. Level One."
Sakazuki stepped out of the cabin with a cigar in his mouth. He hadn't even bothered with his vice admiral's coat—just that same dark red floral shirt.
He strode to the bow, took one look at the pirate ship turning to face them in the distance, and gave his order in that gravelly voice.
"You two recruits will stay by my side." His tone was icy. "First battle—just watch."
"Yes, sir!" they both shouted, quickly falling in behind him.
…
"Oi, brats! It's a Marine warship! Just one!"
Inside the "Broken Finger" Pirates' ship, it was pure chaos and revelry.
This crew was notorious for murdering civilians and raiding villages. Their captain, "One-Eye," carried a 35 million Berry bounty.
They'd clearly just sacked some small town. Treasure was piled high on deck, and faint screams of women still carried up from below.
"Oi, brats! It's a Marine warship! Just one!" someone yelled from above.
"One-Eye" threw his head back and laughed, one boot planted on a chest of gold, bottle of booze in hand.
"Boys! Let's butcher these Marines and take their ship too! That'll make our name even bigger! Turn us around—we'll show 'em what we can do!"
Most pirates in the first half of the Grand Line were exactly this kind of idiot—too dumb to understand how small they really were.