Marine Headquarters, Admiral’s Office.
"Sengoku, are you sure sending Garp, Kuzan, and Tokikake to the wedding is wise? Won’t they cause trouble?" Tsuru asked, exasperation and concern mingling in her eyes as she looked at Sengoku lounging on the sofa.
Sengoku spread his hands. "What else can we do? We can’t send Sakazuki or Borsalino, can we?"
Tsuru started to object, then let the breath out slowly. He wasn’t wrong. She and Sengoku were drowning in preparations for the Shichibukai induction ceremony; neither could spare the ti for a diplomatic wedding. As for Sakazuki and Borsalino... absolutely not.
"Besides," Sengoku added, settling in, "even if those three act up, Young Darren will be there to rein them in."
Tsuru shot him a look. It certainly felt like he’d arranged this on purpose. One raided the office for senbei daily, another kept clamoring to hunt Roger, and the third whined endlessly about transferring to G-5. Sengoku had probably reached the end of his patience and shipped them off for so peace and quiet.
Poor Young Darren.
She rembered the crates of premium tea Darren had sent after the Heavenly Tribute heist and, inexplicably, felt a pang of guilt.
---
The battleship cut smoothly through blue water, trailing a snow-white wake.
On deck, chaos passed for celebration.
"Barbecue!"
"Fine wine!"
"Let’s sing!"
"Kick, turn... this is the Marines’ victory dance!"
Darren watched the three idiots with their arms around each other, kicking and howling like drunks at a village festival. A vein pulsed at his temple.
"Co on, Darren! Join in!" Kuzan waved, face bright red.
"No." Darren glanced at the Marines pretending not to stare along the rail and made a crisp cut-it-out gesture. His refusal was imdiate and complete.
They have no sha. I do. I’m a Marine Disgrace, not a Marine fool.
He took a seat beneath the mast and flipped open an intelligence packet: the guest list for Fish-Man Island’s grand wedding, courtesy of Headquarters.
He lit a cigar and skimd the nas. Familiar ones leapt out:
Nefertari Cobra, twelfth monarch of Alabasta.
Riku Doldo III, King of Dressrosa.
Vinsmoke Judge, Supre Commander of Germa 66.
Invitations had gone to many other World Governnt mber nations as well: the Flower Country, ho of the Happo Navy; the frigid Drum Kingdom in the East Blue. No pirate organizations appeared on the rolls.
Plenty of familiar faces, then.
Tokikake crouched at his elbow without warning, toothpick bobbing, hands buried in his pockets. "Germa 66! Hehehe~ That ’evil army’? I kicked ’em so hard they ran squealing!"
"Just ," Darren said dryly. "Not we."
Tokikake froze for a heartbeat, then pasted on a shaless grin. "Details. Teamwork makes the dream work."
Darren sighed. "How did you convince Admiral Sengoku to let you crash this wedding?"
Tokikake straightened and flicked his ridiculous rooster-comb hair. "Isn’t it fitting for a handso Marine who embodies Justice to attend a grand banquet?"
"If you don’t behave, I’ll revoke your card," Darren said, casual as a knife.
"I knelt," Tokikake replied, unblinking.
Darren stared, then lifted a thumb in weary salute.
"Oh, right..." Tokikake glanced around to make sure Garp, Kuzan, and the others weren’t looking, then leaned in. "I’ve got sothing good."
He produced a small glass vial. Inside, dozens of tiny blue pills rattled.
"Take these... and you’ll get stronger," he whispered, prying the stopper loose like it physically pained him to part with half.
Darren’s mouth twitched. This is a wedding, not a rave. Do you want to die?
"No," he said, flat, waving it off.
"Are you sure?" Tokikake pressed, deadly earnest. "This stuff cost a fortune. Five million berries for this little bottle! You’ll be insanely strong!"
"What do you an, eat and get strong?" a voice cut in behind them.
Kuzan’s eyes locked on the pills. In a blur, he snatched a handful.
"So, Darren! You’ve been secretly juicing up... and you didn’t tell ?" His eyes blazed. "I refuse to lose to you!"
Under Darren and Tokikake’s horrified stares, he tossed the pills into his mouth and swallowed.
"No—!!" Tokikake wailed.
Glug.
Silence descended.
Tokikake: ...
Darren: ...
Kuzan smiled beatifically.
Tokikake’s lips went white. He shook, buckled to a squat, and began to mutter, "We’re dood, dood..."
He’d tried one himself; it let him sprint up five flights without breaking a sweat.
Kuzan had just swallowed at least ten.
---
Half an hour later, Darren stood on deck, massaging his brow as he regarded the lifelike ice sculpture now gracing the planks.
What am I supposed to do with this?
Tokikake—the chief culprit—squatted at the far rail, stoically enduring Garp’s "discipline." At least it was quieter.
My head is killing . Kuzan had nearly exploded from righteous fury earlier.
"Young Darren!" Garp strode over, arms folded, eyes alight with mischief. "What kind of ss have you stirred up now?"
"I went after Roger recently. The mont I ntioned your na, he tried to kill !"
Darren spread his hands. "I have no idea what you an."
"Although, Vice Admiral Garp," he added, "even if you hadn’t ntioned my na, wouldn’t he have tried to kill you anyway?"
Garp paused, considered, and nodded. "That’s... actually true."
Darren: ...
So much for the excuses he’d prepared.
"Vice Admiral Garp! Forward base just ahead!" a lookout called from the crow’s nest.
"Prepare to dock!" Garp barked.
They would undergo coating at the outpost before diving ten thousand ters into the deep to reach Fish-Man Island.
To be continued...
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