At the sa ti, in the upper levels of Marine Headquarters, the atmosphere inside Fleet Admiral Sengoku's office was suffocating.
Even the goat that usually chewed docunts on the desk had sensed the tension, retreating to the corner with a half-eaten report hanging from its mouth.
Sengoku sat behind his wide desk with his fingers interlocked beneath his chin, his eyes bloodshot behind his round glasses.
He hadn't slept properly since Zaraki dropped out of the sky.
Golden Lion Shiki, the recovery of Oto and Kogarashi, the collapse of a floating battlefield, the unclassified 'God Enel', a direct clash with Akainu, and underworld whispers of the Dark-Dark Fruit—every single item was enough to give a Fleet Admiral a migraine.
Combined, they made Sengoku seriously consider early retirent.
Sitting on the sofas before him were the pillars of the Navy.
Vice Admiral Tsuru calmly sipped her tea, her posture elegant but her gaze sharper than usual.
Garp crunched on rice crackers as if he were at a picnic.
Aokiji had pulled his eye mask down, breathing in a steady rhythm that proved he was listening despite looking asleep.
Kizaru idly trimd his nails, the tallic snips echoing loudly in the tense room.
Akainu sat with his cap pulled low and his arms crossed, the air around his fingertips warping from suppressed heat.
No one spoke first because everyone knew why they had gathered.
The na Zaraki was rapidly becoming a massive problem.
"You should have all read the report." Sengoku's deep voice finally broke the quiet.
He picked up the file resting on his desk, clipping a photograph of the black-haired young man to the front.
In the picture, Zaraki was bandaged, bloodstained, and grinning like the entire world wasn't enough to entertain him.
"The World Governnt's attitude remains ambiguous, but orders have co down. Considering the situation in the East Blue, the Golden Lion incident, and the sheer combat power displayed by a certain soone..." Sengoku glared at Garp, who continued chewing his rice crackers oblivious to the stare.
Sengoku's eyebrow twitched before he pressed on. "The higher-ups intend to make an exception. They are opening an advanced combat evaluation for Zaraki."
He let the words hang in the air before adding a heavy caveat.
"This is not an imdiate promotion." His gaze shifted to Akainu. "Let repeat that before anyone burns my office down. Zaraki is still not formally enlisted. Officially, he is a Provisional Headquarters Combat Trainee under restricted special observation."
Akainu remained expressionless, though the heat radiating from his fingers spiked.
"However," Sengoku continued, "if his achievents are verified, and if he secures enough military rit to convince both Headquarters and the World Governnt, he may be placed on the Admiral Candidate track."
Aokiji lifted his eye mask a fraction of an inch.
Kizaru's nail clippers paused.
A faint sizzle echoed from Akainu's crossed arms.
Everyone in the room understood the sheer weight of that title. Even without an imdiate rank or formal enlistnt, placing a rookie on that path would shake the very foundation of Marine Headquarters.
"Bwahahaha! I have no objections!" Garp's booming laughter rattled the room as he slapped the sofa armrest.
"If the brat doesn't have that much ability, i wouldn't care this much about him! Besides, giving those arrogant Yonko a little color to look at—isn't that exactly what you all want?"
Tsuru set her teacup on its saucer with a sharp clink. "To , as long as the collapsing order of the sea can be restrained, it does not matter who becos the blade."
Her eyes hardened.
"But a blade that sharp must have a sheath. Otherwise, the first thing it cuts will be its own side."
"Ah... troubleso," Aokiji muttered from beneath his mask.
Kizaru resud clipping his nails. "What a scary young man~"
"I object," Akainu said, his voice grinding like stone deep within a volcano. "Talent is one thing. Seniority and discipline are another. Letting a sixteen-year-old brat step onto that path will only make the Marines a joke in the eyes of pirates."
His glare locked onto Garp.
"What he needs is ti, tempering, military rit, and absolute obedience. Not a single leap to the heavens just because he happens to know the Hero of the Marines."
Garp stopped chewing.
The rice cracker between his fingers snapped in half. "Tempering? Sakazuki, I think you're—"
The heavy oak doors slamd open, crashing against the walls with enough force to knock dust from the ceiling.
A young ssenger nad Allen stumbled into the room.
His cap was crooked, sweat poured down his face, and his expression was a frantic mix of panic, excitent, and disbelief.
In his rush, he had completely forgotten he was barging into the highest center of Marine authority.
"Fleet Admiral! S-sothing huge has happened!"
Akainu's foul mood finally found an outlet. "How dare you!"
The Admiral rose to his feet, instantly spiking the room's temperature as a heavy, suffocating pressure rolled toward the doorway like a blast furnace.
"You are a Marine Headquarters soldier. What kind of disgraceful behavior is this? Have you forgotten the basic courtesy of knocking?"
Allen's legs gave out.
He dropped to his knees with a heavy thud, his teeth chattering uncontrollably under the Admiral's oppressive heat, looking like prey pinned beneath a predator's claws.
"That's enough, Sakazuki." Sengoku frowned, dispersing the pressure with a wave of his hand.
A terrible premonition tightened his chest as he looked at the gasping ssenger.
"Allen. Speak slowly. What happened?"
Allen dragged in several ragged breaths before his voice cracked from sheer overexcitent.
"A-an urgent report just ca from the underground armory! Because Zaraki is guiding soldiers to touch the Haki threshold, the entire lower training district has broken into a brawl over training slots!"
"What?!" Sengoku shot up from his chair so fast the goat bleated in terror. "A brawl?! What kind of nonsense is that?!"
His temples throbbed violently.
Seconds ago, they were debating whether the brat could be controlled, in the next breath, he had incited a riot inside Headquarters!
"Hmph." Akainu scoffed, sitting back down and crossing his arms. "This is the candidate you value so highly? No discipline, no restraint. The mont he gains the slightest influence, he stirs up chaos. If soone like this steps onto the Candidate path, where will Marine justice go?"
The remains of Garp's rice cracker shattered into powder.
The old hero's smile vanished, replaced by a dangerously pulsing vein at his temple.
Before the standoff could escalate, Allen shouted again. "No! It's not a mutiny! It's because Zaraki's thod is too effective!" The ssenger's voice hitched, but he refused to stop.
"It really works! In one short session, multiple participants showed signs of awakening Haki! Not full mastery, but real, confird signs!"
Kizaru's nail clippers slipped from his grip, clattering loudly against the table.
Aokiji shoved his eye mask all the way up.
Tsuru's hand jerked, spilling hot tea onto her saucer. Sengoku's jaw dropped, but no sound ca out.
One short session.
Multiple Haki signs.
In this era, countless officers trained for decades and still failed to brush against that threshold.
Haki wasn't rare among the true elite, but for ordinary Marines, it was an insurmountable wall that most died before ever seeing over.
If this report was true, Zaraki had forged a strategic resource capable of drastically altering the survival rate of Marines entering the Grand Line.
He had found a way to turn cannon fodder into soldiers who might actually return alive.
Allen's breathing grew heavier as a specific detail from the report appendix burned through his lingering fear.
The first ten people to produce confird Haki signs would receive a special reward personally prepared by Zaraki.
Anything prepared by that monster was bound to be excruciating, insane, and utterly extraordinary.
Raw ambition incinerated the last of Allen's terror.
His limp legs straightened as if hauled up by an invisible wire.
"R-report completed!" Allen scread with every ounce of strength in his lungs, staring at Sengoku like a starving man looking at a feast.
"Fleet Admiral! I request imdiate permission to join the lower district waiting list! I'll go as a janitor if I have to! That slot... that slot is still waiting for !"
Before anyone could process the request, the ssenger committed an act that would be whispered about in the barracks for years.
Completely forgetting his salute, Allen spun on his heel like a rabbit whose tail had caught fire and bolted from the office.
"Move! Where's the armory registration desk?!" his frantic voice echoed down the hallway. "If there's no slot, I'll sleep outside the door! Hurry up!"
The heavy oak doors swung back and forth on their hinges.
Inside the office, no one moved.
Akainu sat rigid. Sengoku remained half-standing, his glasses sliding down his nose as his expression locked sowhere between fury and profound disbelief.
A re ssenger had just ignored the Fleet Admiral and the three highest military powers in the Navy for a spot in a training room!
After a long, stretching silence, Aokiji slowly pulled his eye mask back down over his eyes.
"Well now," the ice user murmured. "Things just got a little interesting."
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