The mont LC-02 docked at Marine Headquarters, before the gangway was even fully secured, two adjutants in white uniforms hurriedly ca aboard.
Their faces carried that odd mix of respect and anxiety, the kind that said, Our superior told us to bring him over fast before he runs away again.
They were Sengoku's n, sent specifically to "invite" Renzo. The Fleet Admiral knew that if they were even a minute late, this particular officer would find so excuse to escape to the cafeteria.
"Commodore Renzo, sir, the Fleet Admiral is waiting for you in his office. He instructed us to bring you imdiately upon arrival."
As soon as the adjutant on the left finished speaking, Renzo slowly sat up from his deck chair, still holding half a moss-cookie Sanji had baked aboard the ship. He took an unhurried bite, crumbs falling onto his bathrobe.
"Let finish this bite first."
He chewed lazily, not even bothering to brush off the crumbs. Potts quickly offered a napkin, but Renzo waved him away. "Where's Sanji?"
"Mr. Sanji has already been taken to the ss hall," the right adjutant replied quickly. "The Fleet Admiral personally instructed that Mr. Sanji be given his own ingredient storage and direct access to the head chef. He also made sure that the 'South Blue Special Butter' and 'Sky Island Spices' you requested were fully stocked."
Only then did Renzo nod in satisfaction. 'At least that talk with Sengoku on the way back wasn't for nothing.'
As he followed the adjutants toward the main headquarters building, the Marines they passed instinctively saluted. Their eyes were filled with curiosity; everyone had heard about the "Sleeping Commodore" who had just captured pirates worth hundreds of millions in bounties on Warmwave Island.
But looking at him now, unkempt hair, lazy gait, half-awake expression, it was hard to reconcile that image with the rumors.
Sengoku's office sat on the top floor of the main building.
The mont Renzo pushed the door open, the rich scent of coffee filled the air. Sengoku sat behind his massive desk, brows furrowed tightly enough to crush a fly. Two neatly stacked docunts were in his hands, and beside them lay a wrinkled newspaper, its headline practically scread from the page:
{"Shocking! Marine Commodore Goes Fishing on a Deserted Island With a Chef, Pirates Line Up to Surrender!"} Byline: Morgans
"You're finally here!"
Sengoku slamd the docunts onto the table, the impact making the coffee cup tremble. "Explain yourself, Renzo! You stayed on Warmwave Island for three whole months! Why didn't you submit your reports on ti?"
"And another thing, you took a civilian, Sanji, to the island and even brought him back with you! Do you realize that's against Marine regulations?"
Renzo sat down on the sofa farthest from the desk, half-closed his eyes, and leaned back like this entire lecture was background noise.
"The island had too many pirates, too noisy. I set the den den mushi to 'don't bother mode.'"
"As for Sanji, he's a cook. He makes food. That's not against the rules, right?"
"Not against the-?!" Sengoku snatched up the newspaper and jabbed a finger at the picture.
It showed Renzo lounging by a hot spring while Sanji grilled fish nearby. In the background, several pirates lay sprawled unconscious on the ground. The caption read: {"Marine Commodore Obsessed With Vacation; Pirates Turn Themselves In."}
"Morgans spread this story across the entire sea! The pirates of the New World are laughing at us, calling the Marines a daycare for slackers! Do you know what that does to our image?"
Renzo glanced at the photo he only said, "Let them laugh. It's not like they can beat anyway."
Sengoku's grip on his coffee cup tightened so much it almost cracked. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down.
Arguing logic with Renzo was pointless; the man's brain operated on a single axis: Is this troubleso or not?
"Enough. I won't waste more breath lecturing you."
He changed tone, sliding one of the docunts across the table. Decorated in gold on the cover were four words: "Marine Promotion Order."
"In recognition of your achievents in defeating 'Iron Spine' Garon and 'Silver Blade' Lia on Warmwave Island, the high command has unanimously decided to promote you to Rear Admiral."
"What?"
Renzo's eyes snapped open. For once, he sat upright, flipping through the docunt, until he reached the section describing the responsibilities: commanding a fleet, submitting three strategic reports a month, attending high-level etings.
His face imdiately went slack.
"I refuse. Rear Admirals have to do too much. I'll stay a Commodore."
As a Commodore, he could still nap in the library. But a Rear Admiral? That ant etings, paperwork, logistics, pure torture.
"You think this is negotiable?"
Sengoku pulled out another docunt, this one stamped with both the Navy Headquarters and World Governnt seals.
"This is the official council decision, a mandatory promotion. If you refuse, you'll be reassigned to the New World front lines. Akainu is short on a deputy, and he specifically ntioned your na, saying you 'lack combat motivation.' He's very eager to 'train' you personally."
"The New World front lines?"
Renzo's voice imdiately softened.
He rembered well what that ant: endless battles, cannon fire day and night, no sleep, no peace, barely ti to eat.
Compared to that, the "troubles" of being a Rear Admiral suddenly felt manageable.
At least in headquarters, he could still sneak to the cafeteria and freeload off Sanji's cooking, maybe even dump paperwork on Kizaru.
He stared at the double seal on the decree, imagined Akainu's furious face, then quietly stuffed the promotion order into his pocket.
"…Fine. Rear Admiral, it is. But I'm not managing any fleet, I'm not writing reports, and I'll, uh,' try my best' to attend etings."
Sengoku's temple twitched violently. But what could he do? He couldn't actually send this guy to the front lines; Renzo would just nap through artillery fire and make things worse.
"Fine. You're dismissed," Sengoku said, waving him off, tone filled with helpless resignation.
"Sanji's arrangents are settled. And do a favor, stop hanging around the ss hall all day. Familiarize yourself with your new duties for once."
Renzo stood up and quickly made for the door, noticeably faster than when he ca in.
He needed to find Kizaru. If he could get the man to handle so of the Rear Admiral workload, maybe this wouldn't be such a nightmare.
Just as he stepped into the corridor, he nearly bumped into Kizaru himself, casually fanning himself with a paper fan. The admiral had clearly been waiting.
"Oooh~ Rear Admiral Renzo, fresh from the Fleet Admiral's office, I assu? Judging by your face, you got scolded pretty good, hmm~?"
"Don't tease ," Renzo grumbled. "Sengoku wants to handle fleets and reports. You're helping , or next ti, you're not invited to the Warmwave hot springs."
Kizaru imdiately straightened, dropping his joking tone and whispering conspiratorially, "Don't worry, leave it to . I'll handle the reports, find a competent deputy for your fleet, you'll just need to show your face occasionally."
Renzo finally exhaled in relief. In his mind, a plan was already forming: the next ti Sengoku ca looking for trouble, he'd drag Kizaru in with him.
Having a fellow slacker for an ally really did make life easier.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu
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