The Fleet Admiral's office in Marineford was unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
Sengoku, the acting Fleet Admiral, sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, eyes fixed on the man sprawled far too comfortably on the couch across from him.
Borsalino—better known as Kizaru—had his legs crossed, coat half open, hat tilted back. He was lazily cleaning under his fingernails with a thin metal pick, a Den Den Mushi receiver dangling beside him.
"So," Sengoku said, voice dangerously even, "that is your entire report?"
Kizaru blinked slowly and looked up. "Hm? Ohhh—about Arabasta?"
"Yes," Sengoku snapped. "About Arabasta. About Carragher. About the pirates. About the invasion of a World Government–affiliated kingdom."
Kizaru hummed. "Well… invasion stopped. Pirate captured. Kingdom safe. Mission successful."
A vein twitched on Sengoku's forehead.
"That," he said, pointing a finger, "is not a report. That is a summary. And a bad one."
Kizaru smiled faintly. "Ara ara. You didn't say you wanted details."
Sengoku slammed both palms on the desk. Papers jumped into the air.
"You are an Vice Admiral, an Admiral candidate!" he roared. "Your job is details! Enemy composition! Devil Fruit users! Command structure! Why Carragher was there, who stopped him, and why you didn't capture anyone and just left!"
Kizaru leaned back further, utterly unbothered. "Capture? Ohhh, they ran away before I could get to that."
Sengoku's eyes narrowed. "Ran away?"
"Mhm."
"You," Sengoku said slowly, "are a Light Logia user."
"Mhm."
"And you're telling me," Sengoku continued, voice dropping, "that two pirates outran you."
Kizaru paused. He finally stopped cleaning his nails and looked up.
"…Did I say that?"
Sengoku stared.
Kizaru raised both hands lazily. "Now, now. No need to get angry. You only told me to stop the invasion. Which I did. Anything beyond that would've been… extra work."
The tic at Sengoku's temple throbbed violently.
Akainu would have turned the capital into molten glass to catch them, Sengoku thought.
And Aokiji would've fallen asleep halfway through.
That didn't help Sengoku's mood.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Garp.
The anger sharpened.
Kizaru noticed the shift immediately. "Oh my. Looks like someone's thinking about Vice Admiral Garp again." He stood smoothly. "I'll take my leave before you decide to test that Buddha fruit indoors."
He slipped toward the door.
"Next time," Sengoku barked after him, "you will submit a proper report."
Kizaru waved without turning. "I'll think about it."
The door shut.
Silence returned.
Sengoku exhaled slowly and rubbed his forehead. Then his gaze fell to the documents laid out across his desk.
Two names were circled in red ink.
Crocodile.Jack D. Sparrow.
"Rookies," Sengoku muttered.
And yet—
Jack D. Sparrow. Newly entered the Grand Line. Reckless history. Former nobody. Now carrying a bounty well above one hundred million berries.
Crocodile. A Sand Logia user. Ambitious. Calculating. A pirate who had once challenged Whitebeard himself and survived long enough to retreat.
"And you two just happened to be in Arabasta at the same time of invasion," Sengoku said quietly.
He flipped another page.
Caribbean Pirates.
Their movements made little sense. No alliance declared. No known ties to Arabasta. Yet they fought Carragher—hard enough to nearly kill him.
Sengoku leaned back in his chair.
"Why Arabasta…?"
His eyes drifted to an older file.
Loguetown.
Gold Roger's execution.
Cannon fire.
Civilian panic.
A reckless young man who had dared to fire on the scaffold.
Jack D. Sparrow.
Sengoku's jaw tightened.
"So it is you," he murmured. "I should have realized sooner."
Another headache, added neatly to the pile.
-----
"LAND AHOY!"
The shout echoed across the deck of the Black Pearl.
Gibbs stood at the bow, hand shading his eyes as the island grew clearer in the distance.
Pintel and Ragetti scrambled forward, nearly tripping over each other.
"Trees," Ragetti said. "Lots of 'em."
"Which means animals," Pintel replied darkly. "Which means things with teeth. And sharp claws."
Crocodile leaned against the rail, cigar glowing faintly as she studied the island. Dense forest. No smoke visible, no village or human port in sight.
Augur narrowed his eyes. "Either uninhabited," he said, "or very hidden. Most likely the former."
Jack, meanwhile, was looking up.
A shadow passed overhead.
A News Coo descended neatly onto the deck.
"Oh!" Jack said brightly. "Hello there—"
Crocodile snatched the newspaper out of the bird's pouch, paid it, and waved it off before Jack could touch it.
"…I wanted to pet it," Jack muttered. "Train it. Raise it. Start a bird-and-egg business."
"No," Crocodile said flatly.
"No imagine it. An infinite farm, serving both bird meat and eggs. And we can get rich by selling the excess."
Jack was now imagining himself as a rich businessman, wearing expensive clothes and surrounded by hot scantily clad women, all feeding him grapes and rum.
She ignored him and scanned the front page.
Arabasta dominated the headlines. Reconstruction. Aid shipments. Praise for Marine intervention.
Gibbs snorted. "They made it look like we were never there."
"Expected," Augur replied.
As Crocodile turned the page, several bounty posters slipped free and scattered across the deck.
Pintel grabbed the nearest one.
"…Augur," he said slowly. "That's you."
Augur took it. The image showed him in stolen Arabastan uniform, rifle raised atop the wall.
TRAITOROUS MARKSMAN – VAN AUGUR150,000,000 BERRIES
Augur stared at the word.
"Traitorous," he said quietly.
Ragetti squinted. "Who'd you betray?"
Augur folded the poster without answering.
Gibbs whistled. "That's a serious jump."
More posters.
Pintel—fifty million.
Ragetti—fifty million.
Both images showed them chained together, hauling a palanquin.
"…I hate that this exists," Ragetti muttered.
Crocodile paused at her own.
Two hundred million.
She exhaled smoke slowly. "Persistent."
Jack was smiling at his.
"Do I look good?" he asked.
Crocodile glanced despite herself.
JACK D. SPARROW250,000,000 BERRIES
The image captured him mid-descent into Queen Titi's chambers, coat flaring dramatically.
"…How," Crocodile asked, "did they get that angle?"
Jack puffed up. "I am very handsome in every angle."
Gibbs stared. "Captain… that's higher than Carragher."
Jack beamed.
Then Crocodile spoke.
"A bounty like that attracts hunters. Pirates. Marines."
Jack's smile faltered.
"…Right," he said weakly.
Augur turned toward the horizon. "We're close."
The island loomed ahead.
Dense forest. Dark interior.
BOOM.
The sound rolled across the water, heavy and deep.
Pintel swallowed. "So… still landing?"
Ragetti grinned nervously. "Maybe we should look for another island, this time inhabited by humans?"
Crocodile's eyes gleamed. "Interesting."
Jack watched his compass needle spin—then settle.
"Well," he said, hands steady on the helm, "let's see what sort of trouble we've found."