Garp laughed so hard his shoulders shook as he led the group back to the Fleet Admiral's office under the complicated gazes of countless officers.
Once the heavy doors were sealed and all unnecessary personnel dismissed, Sengoku finally connected the encrypted Den Den Mushi.
Even the goat seed to sense the shift in the atmosphere, retreating to the corner with a half-eaten report dangling from its mouth in dead silence.
Sengoku sat behind his wide desk, fingers interlocked beneath his chin, his eyes bloodshot behind his round glasses.
The major figures of the Navy sat on the sofas before him.
No one spoke. Everyone knew exactly why they were here.
The encrypted snail's expression shifted, its eyelids drooping and wrinkles deepening as the room's temperature seemingly plumted.
"Sengoku."
A dry, aged voice echoed from the receiver.
Just a single words, yet the crushing authority behind it made even the seasoned Admirals tense.
Sengoku sat perfectly straight. "Five Elders."
"We have received several conflicting reports," a second voice stated. "Golden Lion Shiki reappeared. His swords are in the possession of a Marine trainee. Sakazuki's uniform was damaged in a public clash. Marineford's lower district produced signs of mass Haki awakening. And the underworld is whispering about the Dark-Dark Fruit."
The voice paused, heavy with expectation.
"Explain."
Sengoku's temple throbbed.
Having commanded countless campaigns and argued with Garp for decades, he still fought the overwhelming urge to hurl the Den Den Mushi out the window.
"Golden Lion Shiki's death is unconfird," Sengoku answered evenly. "However, based on the recovered blades Oto and Kogarashi, alongside Zaraki's testimony, Shiki was defeated in battle and lost control of his floating island. Search teams are currently sweeping the projected crash zone."
The snail's eyes narrowed. "And the trainee?"
"Provisional Headquarters Combat Trainee Zaraki remains under restricted special observation. He is not formally enlisted and holds no official rank beyond that temporary classification."
Akainu's rigid posture eased a fraction, Garp clicked his tongue, and Zaraki himself looked bored.
"What about the ability rumor?" the first Elder pressed. "The Dark-Dark Fruit."
Sengoku didn't answer right away, his gaze shifting to Zaraki.
The man blinked back with feigned innocence, acting as if the interrogation had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Sengoku fought the urge to reach across the desk and strangle him.
"The rumor is unconfird," Sengoku said. "What Zaraki utilized does not match standard Logia power. The underworld whispers stem from exaggerated witness descriptions regarding his strange power called spiritual pressure and Haki interaction."
"Strange power? spiritual pressure?" The snail's expression sharpened.
Sengoku's eyes flickered.
The term had already slipped into several internal reports; hiding it completely was impossible.
"A special form of pressure unique to him. It is not Conqueror's Haki, though it produces a similar suppression effect. It is not a Devil Fruit ability, at least according to current evidence."
The room fell quiet.
Zaraki stood with his arms folded, pretending not to care, but his eyes narrowed.
These old n weren't easy to fool.
Unlike ordinary Marines who wrote off any terrifying phenonon as Haki or Devil Fruit powers, the Gorosei demanded categories, control, and ownership.
If sothing couldn't be categorized, they would chain it first and na it later.
The Den Den Mushi spoke again. "And the training facility?"
This ti, Sengoku offered no cushion. "A strategic asset."
Those two words dropped the temperature in the office.
"It can increase the likelihood of touching the Haki threshold under controlled pressure," Sengoku explained. "However, the first trial carried serious psychological and physical risks, and the results are unstable. Participants did not beco mature Haki users; they only produced initial signs."
"How many?"
Sengoku glanced at Tsuru, who answered without missing a beat. "Seven confird signs among the crowd after the first wave of exposure and resonance. Among Zaraki's direct trial group, several touched partial thresholds, but none achieved stable mastery. The dical risks are significant."
"Can it be moved?"
Zaraki's eyes glinted dangerously, but Sengoku answered before the boy could open his mouth.
"Not safely. The facility appears bound to Zaraki's activation authority and an unknown energy supply. Forcing its removal may damage or destroy it, and misuse will severely injure participants."
It was a half-truth acting as a shield.
The Five Elders didn't need to know everything—especially not yet.
After a long silence, the oldest voice rasped through the receiver.
"The facility will be classified under World Governnt strategic observation. Marine Headquarters may conduct limited trials under direct supervision. Full technical disclosure is required at a later date."
Zaraki's mouth twitched, a sharp retort already forming from him, but Sengoku viciously stomped on his foot beneath the desk.
Zaraki shot him a glare, but the Fleet Admiral kept his eyes locked on the snail.
"Understood," Sengoku said.
"As for Zaraki, his existence has already drawn unwanted attention," the Elder continued. "Handled poorly, he will beco a destabilizing factor. Handled well, he may beco a symbol."
Akainu's eyes darkened, Garp's grin widened, and Zaraki yawned.
The voice turned glacial. "Open the advanced combat evaluation file. Do not promote him yet, and do not grant him a public title. Make him prove whether he is a blade worth sharpening or a beast that must be caged."
Sengoku's eyes narrowed. "And the test?"
"The Alabasta Heavenly Tribute transport has grown unstable, showing signs of outside interference. Crocodile's movents are suspicious, but as one of the Seven Warlords, he cannot be touched without concrete cause." The voice paused. "Send Zaraki. Let him recover the tribute intact and expose the truth if there is one. And if he fails..."
The snail's eyes flattened into emotionless slits. "...then the Navy loses nothing but an unranked trainee."
Dead silence suffocated the office.
Garp's smile vanished.
The air pressure in the room plumted so violently the window panes groaned under the strain.
"Old n," Garp rumbled, his voice low and lethal. "You'd better watch your words."
Sengoku's face drained of color. "Garp."
The Den Den Mushi showed no fear. "Vice Admiral Garp, your personal attachnts are irrelevant."
Garp's fists clenched, Haki bleeding into his knuckles.
Before he could escalate the standoff, Zaraki barked a laugh.
It wasn't loud, but it sliced through the crushing tension like a blade scraping against a whetstone.
"So that's it."
Everyone turned to him.
Zaraki scratched his ssy hair, a genuine spark of interest finally igniting in his eyes.
"Recover the cash. Find out if the crocodile is biting the hand feeding it. If I succeed, you get a useful sword. If I die, you save yourselves the headache of figuring out what to do with ." His feral grin stretched wide.
"Not bad. At least it's less boring than paperwork."
The snail stared at him. "You understand your position?"
"Yeah." Zaraki stepped forward.
Blood still stained his bandages, and his body was far from recovered, yet the sheer wildness radiating from him made the massive office feel claustrophobic.
"I'm the knife you're throwing into the desert."
The Elder's tone remained flat. "And if the knife cuts more than expected?"
Sengoku's gaze sharpened, Akainu's fingers flared with heat, and Tsuru watched in heavy silence.
Zaraki's grin turned downright savage. "Then don't throw knives at things you're afraid to lose."
For a long, stretching mont, no one breathed. Then, the Den Den Mushi's eyes closed.
"Complete the mission."
Click.
The connection severed, plunging the office back into quiet. Sengoku removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the incoming migraine.
Garp glared at the dead snail with cold fury, Akainu stood rigid like a dormant volcano, and Kizaru studied Zaraki with a peculiar glint behind his shades.
"Ah... that was bold," Aokiji muttered, breaking the silence.
Sengoku opened a drawer, pulled out a thick intelligence dossier on Alabasta, and slid it across the desk.
Zaraki caught the file, spun it once in his hand, and looked at the Fleet Admiral.
"So when do I leave?"
Sengoku opened his eyes. "After you receive full dical clearance."
Zaraki's face fell. "Then I'll leave tonight."
"You will leave after dical clearance."
"Tonight, then."
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