When Tachibana Kyūjō mentioned he was from East Blue, something finally clicked in Sengoku’s memory—a specific order he had once given to Garp.

So this is the swordsman he was talking about…?

Sengoku studied the young man in front of him. His face looked like that of a teenager—no older than nineteen or twenty. Still, Sengoku narrowed his eyes, suspecting that maybe the kid was just blessed with good skin. Twenty-seven or twenty-eight, maybe?

He gave Kyūjō a proper once-over.

The young man stood tall and firm, his posture sharp, his body lean and powerful. This was clearly someone trained in close-quarters combat—taijutsu, most likely.

At his waist hung a long katana—way longer than what even most swordsmen would dare carry. Wielding a sword of that size in battle required absurd strength.

And height-wise… he was at least two and a half meters tall now.

(He’d grown again in the past few months.)

He wasn’t quite at admiral height—three meters or more—but he was getting there. A guy built like this… there’s no way he was weak.

But what really stood out the most—

Were the wounds.

Who the hell in East Blue could injure a swordsman that’s mastered high-level Haki like this?

Driven by curiosity, Sengoku finally broke the silence.

“…Those injuries. What happened? There’s still someone that strong lurking in East Blue?”

Kyūjō shook his head slowly, his expression blank. His tone, however, was strangely casual.

“Oh, these? Nothing serious. I just had to rest in bed for over a month. I’m finally back to walking again.”

“As for who did this to me… definitely not anyone from East Blue. No one there’s that strong.”

Then he raised his eyes and locked gazes with Sengoku.

“Unless… you sent them, Sengoku the Buddha?”

“But I doubt it. I’m not even a pirate, am I?”

That jab landed hard.

Sengoku flinched slightly, then forced an awkward smile.

“…Garp?”

Kyūjō nodded, calm as a still pond.

Instinctively, Sengoku slammed his palm on the desk. The sound echoed across the office like a small explosion.

“SOMEONE—BRING ME GARP. NOW!”

…But, as always, that led to absolutely nothing.

Garp had already vanished. Again.

Even if he was still at HQ, it wasn’t like Sengoku could just punish the Marine Hero over this. One was a living legend. The other? A promising swordsman, sure, but not yet part of the Navy.

When it came to the public eye and the World Government’s approval… the choice was obvious.

Kyūjō, of course, knew all this.

He hadn’t brought it up to start a fight.

He just wanted Sengoku to feel a tiny bit guilty—and to annoy that senile old bastard Garp, who had nearly beaten him into the afterlife.

Totally fair, right?

Besides, if he was being honest… Kyūjō had already made up his mind.

Joining the Marines? Not a bad idea.

There were plenty of reasons why.

First off—strong opponents. Lots of them.

Garp. Sengoku. Zephyr. And of course, the Three Admirals: Akainu, Aokiji, and Kizaru.

All of them were still above him for now. But that was exactly what made this place valuable.

He’d never run out of people to train against.

Second—Devil Fruit users. The Navy was crawling with them. And if he wanted to get stronger, he needed firsthand experience fighting those bizarre powers.

No better training ground than here.

But above all that…

There was Garp and Zephyr.

Both were masters of taijutsu and Haki. Two men who understood the true essence of raw combat.

And since they were technically on the same side now… there was no way they’d refuse to train him.

Then there was the whole “living arrangement” thing.

Food, lodging, and income—all taken care of. As long as you were strong enough.

If you were a weakling?

Forget it.

— — —

Sengoku tapped his fingers against the desk, deep in thought. It looked like he was weighing something—maybe planning a formal offer or some kind of compensation.

But before he could say anything, Kyūjō spoke up.

“Sengoku the Buddha. I have just three simple requests. I hope you’ll consider them.”

“First, I’d like a room at Navy HQ. Doesn’t have to be fancy. Just two bedrooms, one living room, one bathroom—and please, a decent-sized kitchen.”

“Second, whenever Vice Admiral Garp isn’t on active duty, I want him to personally guide my Haki training.”

“Third, after completing Marine Recruit Training, I’d like to be promoted to at least the rank of Rear Admiral.”

“Of course, I understand if my current power doesn’t justify it. Feel free to test me.”

He wasn’t asking to skip basic training.

Military training wasn’t just about combat, after all. He still had to learn strategy, navigation, chain of command, fleet coordination—everything needed to operate in real naval warfare.

It was, essentially, a fast-track officer program.

Once he graduated, he’d be placed into a formal position. How high? That would depend on his performance during final evaluations.

The moment Kyūjō finished laying out his terms, the room fell completely silent.

Sengoku let out a long sigh and rubbed his temple.

This kid… was clearly not the obedient type.

After thinking for a moment, Sengoku finally replied.

“Your first request… I’ll approve it. After you complete training.”

Kyūjō immediately rolled his eyes.

He knew this game. Marines were officially granted quarters after training anyway. He was just hoping to get it early.

Even that got shot down?

Feeling cornered, Sengoku quickly added:

“It’s not that I don’t want to give it to you. But there are rules in place.”

“Right now, you’re just a candidate. Technically, you’re not even supposed to be in the training program yet. Do you know how many people are lined up out there, begging for this chance?”

“If I hand out special privileges before you’ve even started, it’s going to raise eyebrows.”

Kyūjō gave a small nod. He understood.

Sengoku moved on.

“Your second request—I’ll accept it on Garp’s behalf.”

But when he got to the third one, Sengoku didn’t give a straight yes. But he didn’t refuse either.

Because truth be told… it was negotiable.

After all, Kyūjō himself had said he was willing to undergo a strength evaluation.

But still—Rear Admiral? Right out of the gate?

Even if he had Admiral-level strength, that wasn’t how the Navy worked. Power mattered—but so did experience, achievements, and loyalty.

Unless the World Government got involved, the Navy still tried to stay fair. Structured.

…Of course, if Kyūjō really was Admiral-level, things might change.

So he wanted to skip ranks?

Simple.

Sengoku would just set him up against someone he couldn’t possibly beat.

One of the Three Admirals? No, too obvious. That would look like bullying.

But there were still two candidates—Momousagi and Chaton.

Garp hadn’t reported the full extent of Kyūjō’s strength yet, so Sengoku didn’t know what he was really capable of.

To Sengoku, the most generous estimate put Kyūjō’s power somewhere around Vice Admiral tier.

Which meant…

There was no way he’d beat either of them.

— — —

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