Just hearing that voice—and that string of shamelessly self-aggrandizing titles—was enough to make Sengoku feel his blood pressure spike all over again.
He fought down the urge to smash the Den Den Mushi against the wall. A vein pulsed at his temple as he forced the words out through clenched teeth:
"Gern! I've already read your goddamn excuse for a report! I don't have time to play word games with you!"
"Oh my, Fleet Admiral, there's no need to be so angry~" Gern's voice on the other end was as relaxed as ever."That report was carefully crafted from my most sincere emotions and irrefutable facts.So… does this mean it's been approved?"
Sengoku let out a cold snort."Approved? I showed extraordinary restraint by not tearing it up and throwing it in your face!Dracule Mihawk—are you seriously telling me you can control him?"
"Control? No, no, Fleet Admiral, that's far too impersonal." Gern chuckled, his tone light but brimming with unwavering confidence."This is simply mutual attraction between strong individuals, a meeting of kindred spirits.He's just letting his name hang under mine for convenience, and occasionally helping me chop up some clueless pirates and New World monsters.Control? That would really hurt the relationship."
"..." Sengoku was momentarily speechless. Every conversation with this bastard somehow veered off into nonsense territory.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and decided not to pursue a line of discussion that was clearly going nowhere. His voice sank, carrying a gravity rarely heard:
"Gern, I'm not in the mood for jokes.Who you recruit, and how you do it—I can turn a blind eye to that, for now."
"However—" his tone sharpened, each word weighted, "you and your G-10 base must remember who you are.You are Marines!Your blades are meant to face the evils of the sea—not become your private army!"
There was a brief pause on the other end. When Gern spoke again, the flippant tone had noticeably softened. He was still smiling, but there was a trace of sincerity beneath it.
"Fleet Admiral, you can rest easy on that point.My 'path' may differ somewhat from Headquarters', but what I practice is still 'justice.'It's just that my justice might be… a little more intense than average."
"I certainly hope so," Sengoku replied coldly."And keep your people in check! Don't let Mihawk stir up trouble! His status is far too sensitive!"
"Relax, relax. I'll keep an eye on him… probably." Gern answered perfunctorily, then abruptly changed tone, becoming lively again."So, Fleet Admiral, did you really call just to scold me and express your envy of my overwhelming personal charm?If there's nothing else, we just caught a massive Sea King over here—I'm about to start a barbecue party!"
At that moment, the Den Den Mushi's face suddenly shifted into Lipo's likeness.
"Fleet Admiral! Mihawk can provide top-tier swordsmanship-grade slicing services~!"
"If the Fleet Admiral isn't saying anything, I'm hanging up now… hello? Hey! Enel, that portion's mine! Shouldn't you be eating apples?!"
"..."
Sengoku felt that if he listened for even one more second, he might actually suffer a cerebral hemorrhage. He could vividly imagine the chaotic yet absurdly cheerful scene unfolding at G-10.
"Gern… wait."
The noisy background on the other end quieted slightly. It was clear Gern had sensed the change in tone and moved somewhere more secluded.
"More instructions?" Gern asked, a hint of puzzlement creeping into his voice."Fleet Admiral."
Sengoku's fingers tapped unconsciously against the desk. His gaze lowered, as though weighing words of tremendous importance.
The air in the office grew heavy once more.
"Gern…" he said again, his voice slow and deep, each syllable carrying immense weight."There is something… that I may need your strength for, at some point in the future."
He paused, hesitating—then finally steeled himself.
"A very dangerous mission… involving the North Blue.The person executing this mission… is extremely important to me.But the World Government—because of those damned 'rules' and 'statuses'—has tied my hands. I can't reach that far, nor can I provide proper support."
Silence fell on the other end of the line. Gern did not joke this time.
Sengoku continued, his tone more solemn than ever before:
"If—if it comes to the worst possible moment…and that mission requires an external force strong enough to intervene—one that can completely ignore the World Government's bureaucratic system… Gern."
There was something almost like entrustment in his voice.
"At that time, I hope you'll lend a hand—for the sake of a fellow Marine… for the sake of 'justice.'Within the entire Marine system, perhaps only you and G-10 possess both the strength and the nerve to intervene in North Blue affairs without fearing Mary Geoise."
When he finished speaking, it felt as though Sengoku had both shed an immense burden—and taken on an even heavier one.
He stared intently at the Den Den Mushi, waiting for a response.
The simulated expression of Gern gradually lost its carefree grin, replaced by a contemplative look.
A few seconds later, Gern's voice came through—no longer flamboyant, but calm and steady:
"North Blue? Sounds troublesome already…For you to ask me so seriously—甚至绕过世界政府—it seems that 'important person' you mentioned really is extraordinary."
He neither agreed nor refused outright. He simply asked, quietly:
"The name?"
Sengoku was silent for a moment before slowly exhaling it:
"Donquixote Rosinante."
"I see." There was little emotion in Gern's voice now, as though something had clicked into place."I understand, Fleet Admiral Sengoku."
He offered no explicit promise—but that I understand was, in this moment, already a form of acceptance.
Because both of them knew: some things didn't need to be spelled out.
"…Thank you," Sengoku said with difficulty. Then, as if to cover something up, his voice immediately snapped back into its usual irritable roar."That's all! Go grill your damn fish! And don't cause me any more trouble, you bastard!"
Click!
He slammed the call shut, as though severing the weight of that brief yet heavy conversation.
Sengoku stared at the Den Den Mushi as it returned to its dormant state, his expression complicated.
But for Rosinante's sake… for the worst possible future that might yet come to pass, he had no choice but to suppress his doubts and cling to even the faintest hope.
Leaning back in his chair, Sengoku let out a long, exhausted sigh.
Conversations with Gern were always like this—infuriating beyond measure, yet strangely reassuring at the same time.
At the very least, that lawless brat's power—and his version of "justice"—still stood on the Marines' side.
Even if Sengoku himself had no idea how long the Marine flag would continue to fly over G-10.
"Gern…" he murmured quietly, his voice fading into the empty office."Let's hope your 'justice' can be relied upon… at least once in a while."
...
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