Ultimately, Doflamingo was not important enough to hold the attention of Marine Headquarters’ senior leadership for long.
After discussing him briefly, the officers soon moved on to other matters.
“Zephyr,” Garp suddenly asked, “has Fleet Admiral Kong approved your request to step down as an admiral?” Kuzan, who was pouring tea nearby, froze.
“Teacher, you’re stepping down?
What happened?” Zephyr set down his teacup and sighed.
“I’m getting old.” Kuzan looked ready to ask more, but Gion quietly tugged at his sleeve, stopping him.
In truth, Zephyr had first requested permission to relinquish his position years ago.
Fleet Admiral Kong had rejected him every time.
The matter had a long and painful history behind it.
Zephyr was an exceptional Marine.
He possessed extraordinary talent, remarkable ability, and an unwavering sense of justice.
He had joined the Marines at the same time as Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru, yet his early achievements surpassed even theirs.
At thirty-eight, Zephyr’s powerful Haki and mastery of hand-to-hand combat earned him promotion to admiral.
He had become the youngest Marine admiral in nearly a century.
Zephyr had already reached that rank before Sengoku received his own promotion.
Killing an opponent was easy for someone with overwhelming strength.
Any sufficiently powerful fighter could do it.
Zephyr, however, had spent his entire career defeating pirates without taking a single life.
That alone demonstrated the extraordinary control he possessed over his own power.
It earned him the title of the Admiral Who Never Killed.
Unfortunately, the mercy he showed was never repaid.
Zephyr became an admiral at thirty-eight and married in the same year.
His son was born the following year.
His happiness did not last.
When Zephyr was forty-two, a pirate whose life he had once spared murdered his entire family.
The tragedy changed him completely.
From that moment onward, his feelings toward pirates became consumed by hatred.
That same year, devastated and weary of everything, Zephyr submitted his first resignation.
The Marines persuaded him to stay.
For a long time afterward, he continued to hold the rank of admiral without regularly performing the duties associated with it.
Instead, he redirected his energy toward training the next generation.
Through Zephyr’s efforts, the Marines established an officer-training academy.
Sakazuki, Borsalino, Kuzan, and countless Marine officers who would later rise through the ranks had all studied under him.
After reflecting on those memories for a moment, Zephyr shook his head.
“It didn’t work.
The fleet admiral still refuses to approve it.” “Bwahahaha!
I told you becoming an admiral was a trap!” Garp burst into loud laughter.
“You climbed up there, and now they won’t let you come back down!” Zephyr glared at him.
“This is your fault, you bastard!
If you had agreed to become an admiral, I wouldn’t still be trapped in the position!” Traditionally, the Marines maintained three admiral positions.
Together, those three officers were known as the organization’s Greatest Military Powers.
That arrangement had become standard practice.
In the current generation, however, one of the seats had remained vacant for years.
The reason was simple.
Garp refused to take it.
As the Hero of the Marines, Garp possessed both the achievements and strength expected of an admiral.
As long as he declined the promotion, officers with less experience or prestige found it difficult to accept the position ahead of him.
Only figures such as Sengoku and Zephyr, whose reputations, influence, and strength placed them on roughly equal footing with Garp, could occupy the remaining seats without controversy.
That situation would persist until Sengoku eventually became fleet admiral.
Only when the older generation stepped aside would Sakazuki, Borsalino, and Kuzan finally rise to become the next three admirals.
At present, one admiral position was already empty.
There was no chance Fleet Admiral Kong would casually allow Zephyr to vacate another.
“If you want freedom, don’t climb too high,” Garp said calmly, waving one hand.
Zephyr’s current predicament certainly seemed to prove his point.
After the group chatted for a while longer, Tsuru rose from her seat.
“That’s enough idle conversation.
I still have reports to organize at the intelligence division.” Gion stood and prepared to leave with her.
Sengoku hesitated.
Then he cleared his throat.
“Tsuru, I’ll walk with you.
I should check on Rosinante while I’m there.
The boy hasn’t been home in two or three days.” After Sengoku and Tsuru left the office together, Kuzan watched them go.
“Mr.
Sengoku really cares about Rosinante.” The moment he said it, he noticed Garp and Zephyr looking at him strangely.
Kuzan blinked and scratched his head.
“What?
Did I say something wrong?” “Do you really think Rosinante was the reason he left?” Zephyr asked with an amused smile.
“He simply wanted an excuse to spend more time with Tsuru.” “What a hopeless affair,” Garp muttered with a sigh.
Zephyr, Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru had entered the Marines during the same period.
All four quickly distinguished themselves, so they were frequently assigned to the same missions.
Years spent fighting together had forged a deep bond between them.
As the only woman among the four, Tsuru naturally received a little more attention.
For Garp and Zephyr, however, it had always remained the affection of comrades.
Both men eventually married and started families of their own.
Sengoku was different.
At some point, his feelings for Tsuru had grown beyond ordinary friendship.
Unfortunately, he had never been good at expressing himself when he was younger.
His career also occupied most of his attention, so he kept his feelings hidden.
Eventually, Tsuru fell in love with another promising Marine officer.
They married and had children.
Sengoku had been disappointed, but he never attempted to interfere.
He buried those feelings and accepted what had happened.
Fate, however, had not been kind.
The Marines were a dangerous profession for everyone, from ordinary sailors to admirals.
Once a battle began, rank offered no protection from death.
Tsuru’s husband, himself a vice admiral, was eventually killed in action.
That had happened several years ago.
And now Sengoku appeared to believe that he might have another chance.
Judging by how matters developed in the future, however, he probably never succeeded.
Sengoku followed Tsuru into the Marine intelligence division, where they found Rosinante handling a stack of administrative reports.
“Admiral!
Vice Admiral Tsuru!” Rosinante immediately stood and greeted them.
In public, he always addressed Sengoku by rank rather than calling him his father.
“You haven’t come home for several days, Rosinante,” Sengoku said warmly.
Sengoku had never married or raised biological children.
He therefore regarded Rosinante as his own son in every sense that mattered.
Rosinante was not exceptionally gifted in physical combat, but strength alone did not determine a person’s worth.
His talent lay elsewhere.
He was highly skilled at observing, organizing, and analyzing intelligence.
His colleagues in the division respected him and treated him well.
That was a valuable ability in its own right.
What Sengoku valued most, however, was Rosinante’s character.
The young man was genuinely kind.
His heart was filled with compassion, justice, and an almost stubborn belief in the goodness of others.
“Work has been particularly busy these past few days,” Rosinante explained.
“Our Third Intelligence Analysis Group has been tracking and compiling reports on the Golden Lion Pirates’ movements in the New World.” Sengoku nodded.
“Did you find anything?” He had asked casually and did not truly expect a significant answer.
Rosinante hesitated.
Then his expression became serious.
“Yes.” “Our analysis suggests that the Golden Lion Pirates’ main fleets, which were previously scattered across the New World, are now moving toward a single destination.” “We compared their routes from multiple regions.” Rosinante paused.
“They appear to be gathering at…” Sengoku’s expression sharpened.
“Where?” “Edd War,” Rosinante answered.