The mission file wasn't thick.
Compared to the sheer weight of the trouble lurking inside its pages, it was almost insultingly thin.
Zaraki sat on the windowsill of the Fleet Admiral's office, blatantly ignoring the chair Sengoku had pointed to three tis.
His legs dangled casually over the edge as he held the file in one hand and tore into a piece of roasted at Garp had sohow produced from his coat with the other.
No one asked where the at ca from.
No one wanted to know.
Across the room, Sengoku's expression grew darker by the second. "You are bleeding on my windowsill."
Zaraki glanced down at the fresh red stain blooming through his shoulder bandage.
He clicked his tongue. "Your windowsill is too weak."
"That is not the problem!"
Garp bellowed with laughter from the sofa.
Tsuru sipped her tea as if the chaos had absolutely nothing to do with her.
Akainu had already left—whether due to duty or because staying near Zaraki would inevitably provoke another fight, no one asked.
Sengoku slapped a supplentary docunt onto his desk.
"Listen carefully. The Heavenly Tribute from Alabasta is not ordinary cargo. It is political property belonging to the World Governnt. If it disappears, every official connected to the transport route will be investigated. If pirates steal it, the Navy loses face. If it is damaged, Alabasta takes the bla. If civilians riot over it, the World Governnt will still demand a scapegoat."
Zaraki swallowed his at. "So it's a box everyone wants but nobody wants to touch."
Sengoku's eyebrow twitched. "Crude, but accurate."
Zaraki flipped the file open.
The first page detailed the basic route: Alabasta Kingdom, Nanohana, Rainbase, the royal capital Alubarna, the escort transfer point, and finally, sea transport toward Mary Geoise.
Further down were notes about drought, civil unrest, missing caravans, and several suspicious attacks blad on ordinary desert bandits.
At the very bottom, one na was penned in a different color.
Sir Crocodile.
One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. The Hero of Alabasta.
A man holding enough public adoration to make any accusation against him politically radioactive.
Zaraki stared at the na.
He knew exactly what kind of person Crocodile was from his past life.
He wasn't a barking dog like most pirates; he was a patient predator, a man who could bury an entire country under sand while smiling in the king's face.
If he was already making moves around the Heavenly Tribute, this wasn't a simple escort mission.
It was a desert full of teeth.
Zaraki's smile slowly widened into sothing feral.
Sengoku saw that grin and instantly felt a sharp pain in his stomach. "You are not going there to enjoy yourself."
"Then why send ?"
"To complete the mission."
Zaraki closed the file and tapped it rhythmically against his palm.
"Fleet Admiral," he said, his tone dropping into a dangerous, careless drawl that imdiately made Sengoku narrow his eyes.
"I understand the target. But on this sea, accidents happen more often than plans." He leaned forward slightly.
"If I accidentally break so expensive porcelain, ruin a few buildings, or kill a few important people who really weren't supposed to die... how much trouble will you block for ?"
The room fell dead silent.
Everyone leveled their gaze at Sengoku, waiting to see how the Wise General would navigate the trap.
Sengoku didn't answer right away.
He understood exactly what Zaraki was asking.
Alabasta wasn't just so random island in the Grand Line. The Nefertari royal family was tied to the original Twenty Kings who founded the World Governnt.
Even though they refused to live in Mary Geoise, their political status remained incredibly sensitive.
And Crocodile was still an official Warlord—a pirate, yes, but a legal weapon recognized by the World Governnt.
If Zaraki cut him down without irrefutable proof, the fallout would be catastrophic.
Sengoku removed his glasses, slowly polishing the lenses with a cloth.
"This year's Heavenly Tribute should not have a problem," he said evenly. "King Cobra understands the bigger picture. Even amidst drought and unrest, Alabasta has never failed its obligation."
The words sounded bureaucratic and ordinary, but the office was packed with old foxes and monsters.
Everyone caught the hidden aning: If the tribute has a problem, soone intentionally made it a problem.
Sengoku put his glasses back on. "As for porcelain... as long as the contents arrive intact, does it really matter whether the box carrying them is damaged?"
Zaraki's grin deepened.
"And if an irresistible sandstorm occurs along the way, Headquarters can only investigate after the fact," Sengoku continued, his tone perfectly flat. "The desert is dangerous. Accidents happen."
Garp bead. Tsuru lowered her eyes to her tea.
"How scary~" Kizaru muttered. "Even weather reports can beco justice."
Sengoku ignored the Admiral.
"But listen carefully, Zaraki." The air grew heavy with authority. "I am not giving you permission to act like a pirate. You will protect the tribute. You will investigate the attacks. You will not harm Alabasta's royal family or civilians. If Crocodile is involved, you will bring back hard evidence."
Zaraki tilted his head. "And if he attacks first?"
"Then you defend yourself."
"How hard?"
Sengoku's face darkened. "Hard enough to survive."
Zaraki's eyes flashed. "That's vague."
"That is intentional."
The two locked eyes.
One was an old strategist who had spent decades balancing justice, politics, and monsters; the other was a young beast who wanted nothing more than a strong opponent and the freedom to swing his sword.
For a long, tense mont, the room seed to split between those two completely different kinds of danger.
Finally, Zaraki laughed.
"Understood." He rolled the file into a tube and tapped it against his shoulder. "I'll bring back the tribute. If the crocodile bites, I'll break its teeth."
Sengoku's eyelid twitched. "Do not phrase that in your official report."
"I don't write reports."
"You will."
"I'll ask Nami."
"You will write it yourself."
Zaraki looked genuinely disgusted at the prospect.
Fighting a Warlord didn't bother him in the slightest, but the thought of paperwork was abhorrent.
Sengoku felt a tiny, vindictive surge of satisfaction.
Tsuru placed another note on the desk. "Since he is leaving Marineford, we need to settle who accompanies him."
Zaraki's eyes sharpened. "My people co with ."
Nami, Zoro, Sanji, and Carina had been brought in as witnesses and temporary supervised personnel.
Sengoku frowned. "They are not Marines."
"Neither am I, officially."
"That is not helping your case."
Garp burst into laughter.
Tsuru continued smoothly. "Let them go. Keeping them in Marineford while Zaraki leaves will only invite more escape attempts. More importantly, they were present during the Golden Lion incident and have already begun the special training. Sending them as temporary auxiliary witnesses is much easier to justify than locking them up."
Sengoku stared at her, but Tsuru didn't flinch.
"Smoker and Isuka can accompany them as Marine supervision. Bogard will also go as Garp's representative," Tsuru concluded.
..
While waiting outside, Smoker was called in halfway through the planning.
He imdiately frowned. "Why ?"
Tsuru t his gaze. "Because you want another chance inside the training room."
Smoker fell silent. That was answer enough.
Isuka's eyes brightened faintly at the ntion of Alabasta, though she quickly hid it.
Zoro would go anywhere there were strong opponents.
Sanji would go wherever Nami went.
Carina would go wherever danger and treasure intersected.
Nami would complain the entire way, but she would still board the ship before anyone else, because leaving Zaraki entirely unsupervised was far more terrifying than a desert.
Sengoku rubbed his temples. "Fine. Temporary auxiliary status. Strict supervision. If they cause trouble, Zaraki takes full responsibility."
Zaraki blinked. "I do?"
"Yes."
"What if I'm not there?"
"Still you."
"What if Garp caused it?"
"Still you."
Garp whistled innocently and looked the other way.
Zaraki stared at the Fleet Admiral for several seconds. "Old man, you're more shaless than you look."
Sengoku smiled. "I learned from Garp."
Garp laughed proudly, treating the insult as high praise.
...
The preparations moved swiftly.
Marineford's docks, barely recovered from the previous chaos, bustled with activity once more.
A dium-sized warship was assigned—not too large, avoiding the appearance of a Headquarters march against a Warlord, but formidable enough to survive if the desert mission spilled into the sea.
Bogard inspected the crew list with a blank face.
Smoker stood near the gangway with crossed arms and two cigars, looking like he regretted every life choice that had led him to this deck.
Isuka checked her sword three tis.
Zoro slept against a barrel until soone kicked him awake. Sanji got into a shouting match with the ship's cook within five minutes of boarding.
Nami stood on the deck with a Grand Line map spread before her, already calculating wind, currents, and how much money she could extort from Zaraki for emotional damages.
Zaraki arrived last.
His bandages were fresh, his coat hung loosely over his shoulders, and Murasa rested on his hip.
Oto and Kogarashi were carefully wrapped and stored under guard until they could be repaired.
Garp walked beside him, crunching on rice crackers.
"Brat."
"Hm?"
"Don't die in the desert."
Zaraki shot him a strange look. "Old man, are you worried?"
Garp punched him lightly on the head.
The deck cracked beneath Zaraki's boots. "Who's worried? If you die to sand, I'll laugh at you until I'm buried."
Zaraki rubbed his head and grinned. "Then I'll make sure the sand dies first."
Watching from the dock, Sengoku closed his eyes. He regretted hearing that sentence.
The warship's sails unfurled, catching the rising sea breeze.
As Marineford slowly receded behind them, Zaraki leaned against the railing and stared at the distant horizon.
Sowhere beyond that blue expanse lay a desert kingdom, a hidden Warlord, a pile of Heavenly Tribute, and likely enough trouble to make Sengoku's hair fall out completely.
Zaraki's fingers brushed the hilt of his sword.
The hunger in his blood, quiet for a short while, began to wake again.
"Alabasta, huh..." His grin turned wicked. "Let's see if a crocodile tastes better than a lightning brat."
---------
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