Sengoku's expression grew serious upon hearing the news.
Garp might be brash and always at odds with him — always baiting him and teasing him — but even Sengoku could hear the anger in Garp's voice this time. That anger meant Garp was truly furious, and that made the report real.
"Your grandson wasn't back home?" Sengoku asked. "That crew came to your hometown and took him?"
"I don't know why Luffy was taken," Garp said. "But I can tell it's Luffy — he was shackled with Seastone manacles, impossible to fake. He isn't a Devil Fruit user, and he couldn't have been impersonated."
Sengoku snorted. "If Smoker and his crew can be bought back for three Devil Fruits, then you asking for ten for your grandson—this fellow is really asking a king's ransom."
He hated that the Navy was being treated like cattle to be slaughtered. As Fleet Admiral, Sengoku could not bear the thought of the Marines being humiliated like this.
"We will rescue Luffy," Garp said with resolve. "Sengoku, you handle things here. I'll try to find my foolish son and see what he can do."
Sengoku nodded. If Garp was pleading, it was personal — an old warrior calling in every favor. The sight reminded him of Zeff: decades earlier, after Zeff lost his family to pirates, he resigned and sank into despair until his comrades intervened. Many of the Navy's current officers were Zeff's students; Sengoku understood how a loss like this could break a man.
If Garp's grandson were to die because the Navy failed to pay a ransom, Garp would not recover easily. Sengoku felt the weight of that.
"Do what you can," Garp said before ending the call.
Sengoku watched the Den Den Mushi go dead and muttered, "That old fool Garp…"
Then he picked up another line and dialed the Reverie's highest echelon — the Five Elders. If this was going to be handled, it needed the World Government's attention. He laid out the facts and the urgency, and a conversation between Fleet Admiral and the Five Elders began in earnest.
Two days later.
Three ships slipped into Shimotsuki Village's harbor.
"Grimmjow, fetch that one named Zoro and bring him with us," Adrian ordered.
"All right, boss," Grimmjow said eagerly — flattered to be chosen. He loved being at Adrian's side.
"Boss, I'm stronger than Grimmjow by a hair. Let me come." Uchiha Madara intervened, voice clipped.
Grimmjow scowled. "Stronger? Madara, you better be ready to have your bones smashed when I get through with you."
Madara's Rinnegan flared and chakra spilled outward. Grimmjow answered by pushing out his own reiatsu, and for a moment the two men almost burst into violence. The tension was cut off when Adrian intervened.
"Enough. Grimmjow goes with me. Madara, stay and watch the ships."
Both men lowered their auras, though Grimmjow shot Madara a smug grin that left Madara colder than before.
Grimmjow went below to the cabin where Hachi and the others were kept and hauled Roronoa Zoro out. Zoro stumbled, confused and angry at being dragged from his cell. When he stepped off the ship and looked around, his face paled.
"You dragged me back to Shimotsuki Village? What the hell are you doing?!" he snarled.
Zoro recognized the place immediately — the only town that ever felt like home. Being brought here as a captive set an alarm in him.
"You think I kidnapped you to keep you fed and pampered on deck?" Adrian said with a look. Zoro flushed with indignation.
"You bastard — are you going to attack Shimotsuki Village?!" Zoro roared, assuming Adrian intended to pillage the hometown he'd left long ago.
Adrian smiled and shook his head. "I have no interest in your backwater home. I brought you here to extort your master, Shimotsuki Koshirō. If he pays, you go home safe. If he refuses, well… I'll have to teach him a lesson."
Zoro's jaw dropped. Before he could spit a reply, Grimmjow delivered a brutal punch to his abdomen that left him gasping.
"Kid," Grimmjow growled, "watch your mouth. Don't insult the boss."
Adrian led the way toward the village, curious to see this mysterious kendo master whose reputation had quietly lingered. He wanted to see what level of strength Shimotsuki Koshirō possessed.
On the stroll through the village, villagers pointed out the route to Isshin Dojo. Adrian thanked them with a smile, then guided Grimmjow and the captured Zoro toward the dojo's gate.
"Boss, do you want me to smash the door?" Grimmjow cracked his knuckles, kyōki coalescing in his palm for a strike.
"No need," Adrian said. He lifted his reiatsu and released it — an unrestrained burst of Cataclysm-tier pressure.
The effect was immediate. The world seemed to tilt; Zoro felt the familiar, crushing weight of reiatsu pressing on his chest. He could no longer move; every breath felt like labor beneath a mountain. This was not the first time he had felt this oppressive force — but it still struck him like a wall.
Seconds ticked by. Then a figure streamed from the dojo.
"You barge into my Isshin Dojo and make demands? Explain yourself!" the man called.
It was Shimotsuki Koshirō. The smile that usually played about his lips had vanished; his posture was swordlike, his presence a blade thrust against Adrian's reiatsu. Anyone with eyes could tell: this man was no ordinary dojo master.
Adrian felt a ripple of respect. The man's aura suggested a nation-level swordsman — a blade master whose single stroke might topple a smaller realm. He lowered his reiatsu accordingly; the strain on the villagers eased.
"Well then," Adrian said with a grin. "You must be Shimotsuki Koshirō. This here is your student — Roronoa Zoro, correct?"
He gestured to Grimmjow, who hauled Zoro forward for the master to see.
Koshirō's expression changed to shock. "Zo—Zoro…?" he stammered.
…
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