When Fleet Admiral Sengoku heard from “Tyrant” Kuma via Den Den Mushi that Gecko Moria had been slain by Davy Jones, for a moment he found it absurd—he even thought that the ever-stoic Kuma had suddenly learned to make jokes.

But as Kuma went on to lay out the details of Moria’s defeat, Sengoku was forced to accept the truth.

After a long silence, he asked:

“Kuma, you were nearby at the time. Why didn’t you intervene to help him?”

“I am neither Moria’s subordinate nor his ally. Without explicit orders from Marine Headquarters, I have no reason to act,” Kuma lied calmly. “Besides, by the time I arrived, it was already too late. Moria and his forces had been crushed.”

He had shifted the sequence of events just enough. A neat lie, enough to absolve himself of suspicion.

Sure enough, Sengoku pressed no further.

“In two weeks’ time, I expect you to be present at Marineford.”

He needs me. He needs the Shichibukai. Moria’s death has shaken him deeply, Kuma thought.

“You intend to publicly execute Portgas D. Ace?”

“It seems your intelligence is quite up-to-date, Kuma,” Sengoku admitted without hesitation. “Yes, the execution will soon be made public. Marine forces are already converging on Marineford. The only remaining pieces are the Seven Warlords. You enjoy privileges in peacetime—now it is time to fulfill your duties.”

“If this is the order of the World Government and Marine Headquarters, I will comply.”

“Good.”

When the line went dead, Sengoku began pacing his office. For a moment he nearly seized a desk ornament to hurl against the wall—but long years of discipline stayed his hand.

Davy Jones… You again. Always ruining my designs. If I still sit in this chair after the war, you’ll be the first I deal with.

As his anger simmered, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

Sengoku steadied his breath, clasped his hands behind his back, and called, “Enter.”

The door creaked open, and in walked Vice Admiral Tsuru, Chief of Staff.

Her head was crowned with silver hair, her face lined and wrinkled, the picture of an ordinary elderly woman—an image she often used as cover while gathering intelligence.

“What is it?” Sengoku asked. Though he’d masked his emotions, Tsuru still caught the storm in his expression.

“Who has angered you this time? Whitebeard? Or Garp?”

Sengoku sighed, gestured for her to sit, and poured her tea before speaking:

“Moria was taken out by Davy Jones.”

“Davy Jones?” Tsuru blinked. “His name keeps surfacing lately. Even Kuzan—’Aokiji’—seems to have come up short against him.”

Though circumstances had been complicated, the fact remained: Kuzan had failed to capture Jones, and an entire CP9 unit had been lost.

Sengoku shook his head bitterly.

“If only Garp had finished him back at Reverse Mountain… none of this mess would exist now. Damn that Garp—where has he gone this time?”

“Last I heard, he went to Water 7. He’s meeting with Kuzan before returning.”

“Water 7?” This time Sengoku’s restraint broke. His forehead veins bulged. “Meeting Kuzan? Is Kuzan crippled, that he needs an escort home? Tsuru, don’t cover for him—I know full well what he’s really doing!”

Tsuru said nothing.

“First Dragon, then Luffy! Not one of his descendants can be managed! How did he raise them?!” Sengoku thundered. “He even dared to shelter Roger’s son! His audacity is staggering!”

After the dissolution of the Roger Pirates, the Marines and Cipher Pol had hunted for traces of Roger. They’d known he’d taken a wife, and that she’d been pregnant.

But Roger’s voluntary surrender cut that trail short. To the end, he revealed nothing of his wife’s whereabouts. A mystery buried.

Until, two or three years ago, Portgas D. Ace emerged. His exceptional abilities, the faint resemblance in his features, and the way Newgate prized him above any other “son”—all of it set Sengoku’s suspicions ablaze.

He quietly reopened the investigation into Roger’s last movements, and suspicion soon turned toward Garp. Following the intersecting trails, he uncovered the truth on one island:

A woman, pregnant for nearly two years, had borne a child before dying of exhaustion. Her name was Portgas D. Rouge.

Sengoku didn’t need more proof. He knew precisely what Garp had done. But with matters beyond repair, he chose silence rather than expose his comrade and see him punished.

Now, the situation had changed.

Ace was in Marine hands, imprisoned in Impel Down. His death was inevitable.

Only then had Sengoku confronted Garp directly—and Garp had confessed the entire story of raising Roger’s son.

That meant Garp alone had fostered three criminals, and released a fourth. Three of them could shake the world order itself.

If he were to raise one or two more pirates—or revolutionaries—he would be the founder of a bloodline of infamy. A lineage more dangerous than Roger’s own.

Any Fleet Admiral in his place, learning his closest friend had raised so many sworn enemies, would burn with fury.

And now, with Marineford bracing for war against Whitebeard, Garp had chosen this moment to leisurely visit his grandson in Water 7. Sengoku could no longer contain himself.

Tsuru listened as Sengoku ranted for nearly ten minutes, raging at Garp until breathless, before finally collapsing onto the sofa to recover.

Once he had cooled, Sengoku asked, “Right… what brings you here?”

Tsuru would never come without cause.

“This morning, I reported to the Five Elders in Mary Geoise about the state of Marine Headquarters and the Whitebeard Pirates’ movements.” She sipped her tea with calm indifference. “They asked me to tell you—call them directly.”

Sengoku blinked, then turned to her sharply.

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“I’m saying it now, aren’t I?”

Sengoku could only grit his teeth at her unhurried manner. He pulled out the Den Den Mushi and began to dial.

“Do you need me to leave?” Tsuru asked casually, eyes sliding toward him as she sipped again. Her body didn’t so much as twitch.

“No,” Sengoku waved her off.

The line connected. Sengoku soon found himself in council with the Five Elders.

They began, of course, with the coming war against Whitebeard, discussing the matter for nearly half an hour before shifting topics.

“We hear that the one now called the ‘Undersea Hades,’ Davy Jones, is about to enter the New World?” asked Saint Jaygarcia Saturn, the bearded, curly-haired elder.

“Yes,” Sengoku confirmed.

“And he has slain Moria?”

Sengoku’s heart lurched, then he realized—Kuma must have reported to the Government before speaking to him.

“If Kuma has not lied, then yes—Moria is dead.”

“Keep count of how many Warlords you can mobilize,” Saturn warned.

“Understood.”

“The name ‘Undersea Hades’ was infamous centuries ago. Davy Jones has resurrected it—and now, it feels increasingly real.”

“When Whitebeard is dealt with, I will ensure he is erased as well,” Sengoku vowed.

Saturn gave no answer, then suddenly remarked:

“Speaking of infamy—Garp’s family. His son Dragon, his grandson Luffy—they’re both stirring trouble.”

Sengoku froze, unsure how to respond.

“Dragon founded the Revolutionary Army. Elusive as he is, it is no surprise he remains uncaptured,” Saturn continued. “But Straw Hat Luffy is a pirate. The CP agencies can trace his movements. At the right moment—make him disappear.”

“…Understood.”

When the line went dead, Sengoku slumped onto the sofa, a strange unease gnawing at him.

“What is it?” Tsuru asked, reading his doubts.

Sengoku glanced at her.

“I had expected that call to concern something urgent. Dire.”

“Going to war with Whitebeard isn’t dire enough?”

“That’s not what I mean. Whatever needed reporting, you already told them. There was no need for me to repeat it.”

Tsuru straightened.

“Then it’s the latter half that matters. Saturn named three figures: Davy Jones, Dragon, and Luffy. Their existence unsettles the Five Elders.”

Sengoku’s brow furrowed. Dragon he could understand. But what about Jones—and Luffy?

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