The atmosphere at the harbor was suffocating, the air itself feeling frozen.
Confusion tightened Hina's eyes.
Following Smoker's gaze out over the dark, crowded mass of Marines, her heart jumped.
"What the hell is this? A total mobilization?" She lowered her voice, her hands dropping to the jitte at her waist.
"Hina hasn't heard anything about a large-scale extermination mission."
"They're here to welco soone." Isuka adjusted her glasses.
The lenses caught a glint of cold light, and though her tone remained flat, a strange weight rested behind her words.
"Soone?" Hina scowled. "Who deserves sothing this ridiculous? Did Vice Admiral Garp drag back another warship from so random corner of the world?"
Isuka shook her head, looking past the crowd as if searching for a specific silhouette.
Smoker crushed his cigar butt beneath his heel.
"It's Zaraki."
Hina's expression froze solid.
Of course she knew Zaraki.
Everyone in Marine Headquarters knew that na.
A rookie under special observation had gone out on a single mission and returned dragging one of the Seven Warlords behind him.
It wasn't sothing you saw.
It wasn't even sothing you heard without assuming the storyteller was dead drunk.
"They're welcoming him? Do they seriously need to go this far?"
"It isn't just a welco." Isuka's voice dropped. "Most of them have already submitted requests to Personnel to be considered for assignnt under any future special combat detachnt ford around Zaraki."
The answer struck Hina and Smoker like a hamr.
Smoker turned sharply. "You applied too?"
Isuka t his gaze and nodded. "Yes. His thods are reckless and dangerous, but he is not hollow. He moves outside the rules, yet still carries out his own form of justice. If I want my sword to move forward, he is soone worth following."
"You…" For once, Hina had no words.
If even Isuka—a Marine who lived and breathed regulations, rit, and proper procedure—had been moved, what kind of terrifying pull did Zaraki possess?
"He's here!" a voice shouted.
Every eye in the harbor snapped toward the horizon.
A black dot grew larger in the distance, slowly resolving into the shape of a standard-issue Marine warship.
It advanced under the gaze of thousands, its seagull flag snapping in the sea wind.
Standing at the bow, Zaraki inhaled the salt wind and let out a long breath.
At last, he was back. The errand had been exhausting!
The Heavenly Tribute had been secured and a Warlord beaten into custody along the way; now maybe—just maybe—he could get so actual rest.
Then the ship drew closer, bringing the endless black mass waiting at the docks fully into view.
Zaraki's relaxed expression froze.
What the hell? Was this so kind of welco ceremony?
For who?
It wasn't for him, was it?
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a chill run up his scalp.
A spectacle like this was way over the top.
Anyone who didn't know better would think he had dragged back the Pirate King.
Even worse, he caught sight of the two figures anchoring the front of the crowd.
One was Fleet Admiral Sengoku, his face so stiff it looked like the world owed him a hundred million Berries.
The other was his bargain-bin grandfather, Garp, grinning and waving with all his might.
'Oh no. This is definitely not going to be good.'
"Dock the ship," Zaraki forced the order out, suppressing his reluctance.
With a heavy splash, the anchor dropped, throwing up a fan of seawater as the warship settled into place.
The gangway lowered with a tallic crash.
Zaraki walked down it with one hand in his pocket and the other dragging a half-dead human shape.
The chatter on the dock died as every eye fixed on the captive.
Covered in dried blood and sand, the man wore ragged clothing and rough bandages that looked designed to keep him from falling apart rather than offer dical treatnt.
His left wrist—the stump where the golden hook normally attached—was bound and sealed in seastone restraints.
The hook itself was tied to the rope beside him like a cheap ornant.
The face that once held nothing but arrogance and nace was swollen beyond dignity.
With his eyes shut tight, only the faint rise and fall of his chest proved he was still alive.
Sir Crocodile.
Even though the Marines had seen the newspaper photos, witnessing the brutal reality in person struck them hard enough to steal their voices.
"Za—ra—ki—!" Sengoku's roar exploded like thunder, making the entire harbor hum.
He stord over in three strides, his beard shaking with rage as he jabbed a finger at the battered Warlord.
"This is what you call a successful mission?! I ordered you to escort the Heavenly Tribute! What is the aning of bringing one of the Seven Warlords back in this condition?! Are you trying to send a ssage to the World Governnt?!"
"Calm down, Sengoku." Garp wandered over, casually picking his nose. "He's alive, right? Didn't lose any new arms or legs."
A vein bulged at Sengoku's temple as he whipped around.
"Do not say that like it's a professional standard! He looks like he was dragged across half the desert by his face!"
"Oh, was he?" Garp leaned over, gave Crocodile a serious look, and nodded in sudden enlightennt.
He slapped Zaraki on the shoulder and grinned. "Nice work, kid! That sand crocodile looks a lot sturdier now. He used to be skinny as a bamboo pole."
Listening to the grandfather-grandson duo play off each other, Sengoku felt his blood pressure spike hard enough to blacken his vision.
Faced with Sengoku's fury, Zaraki showed minimal reaction.
He tossed over a waterproof-sealed file bag.
"I pulled this out of his nest."
Sengoku caught it on reflex.
He opened his mouth to keep shouting, but the words Alabasta Kingdom – Utopia Plan and Ancient Weapon: Pluton printed on the cover swallowed his attention.
He tore the bag open and pulled out the files, reading them at a frightening speed. T
he further he read, the more the anger drained from his face, replaced by shock, grim understanding, and a weariness that settled deep into his bones.
After a long mont, he closed the file and let out a breath.
"If this file is genuine," he said in a low voice, "then stripping Crocodile's title is nothing more than justice. Even the Five Elders will have nothing to say."
He looked up at Zaraki, his tone turning exhausted. "But why didn't you report this earlier? If you had handed this intelligence over sooner, we could have laid a complete trap instead of cleaning up your ss like this."
"That would've taken too long." The answer was simple and direct.
Sengoku choked on the words.
He wanted to scold the boy further, but swallowed it down.
He knew Zaraki's personality by now; lecturing him on procedure or broader strategy was like preaching to a brick wall that occasionally bit people.
"Forget it." Sengoku waved a dismissive hand, his posture sagging with sudden age.
"It's done. There is no use arguing over it now. You earned a lot of credit this ti, but you caused even more trouble. Do not think this file ans you can sleep peacefully."
He paused.
When he spoke again, every word carried a lethal weight.
"Half a day ago, the Five Elders bypassed completely and sent down two direct assignnts from Mary Geoise." His gaze locked onto Zaraki.
"The target of those assignnts… is you."
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