Chapter 287
"I've worn this uniform long enough. If I'm taking it off, I'd rather not turn it into some grand ceremony."
Zaraki reached up and tugged lightly at the heavy coat of Justice draped across his shoulders, his fingertips brushing the coarse fabric roughened by years of saltwater and sea wind.
Behind him, countless eyes remained fixed on his back.
There was admiration and confusion among them, but more than anything, there was unease at the sight of one of the Marines' greatest symbols simply choosing to walk away.
Sengoku opened his mouth, nearly telling him to think it over one more time.
In the end, he said nothing.
Before anyone else could break the silence, a shrill ship horn tore across Marineford's harbor.
Zaraki narrowed his eyes and looked past Sengoku toward the horizon.
A specially constructed warship was charging toward the docks at an almost aggressive speed.
Its hull was entirely black, and the unmistakable emblem of the World Government flew high above the deck.
The vessel tore through the waves as though whoever was aboard had been waiting for the exact moment Zaraki announced his resignation.
"Damn vultures smelled blood fast."
The low curse came from beside him.
Garp had appeared without Zaraki noticing. His massive fist was clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked one after another.
Zaraki glanced over.
Veins stood out across the old man's forehead, and a darkness Zaraki rarely saw simmered in his eyes.
Garp was worried about him.
There was no political calculation behind it, no concern for Marine reputation or the balance of the world.
It was simply genuine concern, and for the briefest moment, something in Zaraki's heart stirred despite how much the Zaraki Kenpachi template had hardened him.
"Garp. Calm down."
Sengoku lowered his voice and placed a hand on Garp's shoulder.
"His resignation has been submitted, but the formal process isn't complete yet. If we clash with the people above right now, we'll be handing them exactly the excuse they want."
"Excuse?"
Garp growled.
"They've damn near driven that brat into the ground and you want me worrying about excuses?!"
His voice was restrained only by his standards, but the killing intent leaking from him was enough to make several nearby guards shudder.
The black warship reached the dock.
A heavy gangway slammed onto the granite pier.
As the dust settled, an elderly man descended. He wore a white kimono, his head was completely bald, and a long beard framed his severe face.
In one hand rested a sword bound with a purple cord.
Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro.
One of the Five Elders.
Nusjuro's withered-looking eyes swept across the harbor before settling on Zaraki, and the corners of his mouth turned downward in open disdain.
"So this is your answer to the World Government, Zaraki?"
His voice was dry and abrasive.
"You disappeared at the most critical point in Totto Land and allowed that madwoman Charlotte Linlin to run wild."
His expression grew colder.
"What? You accomplish a few noteworthy things and suddenly decide Marine Headquarters is your personal tavern, where you can come and go whenever you please?"
Garp stepped forward hard enough to crack the stone beneath his foot.
"Say that again, you bald bastard."
His hair and beard seemed to bristle with rage, and the normally boisterous old Marine looked more like a demon dragged straight out of hell.
"You know damn well what happened in Totto Land!"
His eyes burned.
"Funny how brave you sound now. Where was all this righteous outrage when you parasites were sitting in Mary Geoise drinking tea and sending CP0 to stir up trouble behind everyone's backs?"
Something vicious flashed through Nusjuro's eyes.
His grip tightened on the sword in his hand, drawing a faint metallic sound from the weapon.
"Garp. Mind your position."
His voice dropped.
"Are you questioning the decisions of the Five Elders, or are you planning to leave Marineford alongside the brat you've spent so much time protecting?"
The atmosphere reached the verge of exploding.
At the center of it, Zaraki remained remarkably calm.
His eyes moved briefly over Nusjuro and the black World Government ship behind him.
'Could I cut the bald bastard and that ship in half with one swing?'
The idea was surprisingly appealing.
"Elder Nusjuro."
Sengoku stepped between the two men before either side could push things any further. His tone remained formally respectful, but there was no warmth in it.
"If you came regarding Zaraki's resignation, we can discuss the matter somewhere more appropriate."
"No need."
Nusjuro withdrew his killing intent.
"This place will do."
He turned fully toward Zaraki, and something calculating entered his gaze.
"You want to resign?"
"Fine."
"The Five Elders are prepared to authorize it once the required discharge procedure is complete."
Several Marines visibly reacted, but Nusjuro continued.
"Understand this first. During your service, you killed a sitting Warlord, Donquixote Doflamingo, and later killed Edward Weevil while he was still only a prospective candidate. You repeatedly acted according to your own judgment in ways that destabilized the balance the Government was trying to preserve."
His eyes narrowed.
"You also humiliated the World Government before the entire world."
Zaraki raised an eyebrow.
"So?"
"So before you take that coat off..."
Nusjuro reached inside his robe.
"...you deal with one final piece of political fallout surrounding the Warlord system."
He pulled out a rolled black directive and tossed it toward Zaraki.
Zaraki caught it one-handed.
"That will be your final mission before your discharge is complete," Nusjuro said. "If you refuse while you're still formally in Marine service, the Government will deny the resignation and record your refusal as desertion."
A thin smile appeared on his face.
"Then you may discover how differently the world treats a former hero and a deserter."
Zaraki looked down at the black directive.
The material felt strangely cold against his fingers.
'One final mission?'
Right.
More likely they wanted to squeeze one last bit of value out of him before he left.
Or, better yet, arrange for him to die somewhere no one would ever discover the truth.
A crooked smile appeared on his face, but before he could speak, he noticed something strange.
Nusjuro was no longer watching him.
The Elder had turned toward the distant direction of Mary Geoise, and for the first time since arriving, there was urgency in his expression.
Hurried footsteps rang across the pier.
A communications officer came running toward them, pale-faced and breathless. He did not even bother with normal protocol.
"REPORT!"
He stopped before Sengoku and Nusjuro.
"An emergency transmission just arrived from the Holy Land! Highest priority!"
Everyone nearby fell silent.
The officer swallowed.
"The Five Elders have issued an immediate order! The Reverie, originally scheduled for next month..."
His voice tightened.
"...has been moved forward!"
Sengoku's pupils contracted.
Even Garp went still.
For a moment, the entire harbor seemed to feel the shift, as though something enormous had moved beneath otherwise calm waters and sent a current through the depths strong enough to overturn everything above.
The noise across the harbor died almost instantly.
Zaraki narrowed his eyes, still feeling the chill of the black directive against his fingertips.
The material did not feel like ordinary paper. It was closer to cured hide, carrying a faint, stubborn smell of blood and salt that treatment had never quite removed.
He casually spun the scroll around his fingers once, though his eyes never left Nusjuro's grim face.
The Reverie had been moved forward?
At a time like this, the self-proclaimed gods perched above the Red Line had finally lost the patience to remain still?
The restless heat inherited from the Zaraki Kenpachi template began stirring inside him.
His hand drifted unconsciously from the edge of his Justice coat toward the sword at his waist.
The moment his fingertips touched the cold guard, a thrill ran up his spine.
He wanted to cut something!
More specifically, he wanted to cut down the bald bastard standing in front of him.
After that, perhaps he could follow the black ship back to Mary Geoise and find out whether the Five Elders' necks were really harder than steel.
"The Reverie has been moved forward?"
Sengoku was the first to speak.
His voice was heavy as he fixed his eyes on Nusjuro.
"Elder Nusjuro, a change to an international summit of that scale should have been communicated to Marine Headquarters in advance."
"Communicated?"
Nusjuro snorted.
"The Marines exist to carry out decisions, not question them."
His gaze shifted toward Zaraki from the corner of his eye.
When he saw the faint smile on Zaraki's face, amused yet unmistakably bloodthirsty, an involuntary tremor passed through his chest.
Only minutes earlier, Nusjuro had genuinely considered killing Zaraki here at Marineford.
After the emergency transmission from the Holy Land, however, he understood that this was not the moment to break such a dangerous blade.
King Cobra of Alabasta and King Riku of Dressrosa, two rulers who owed Zaraki enormous debts, had jointly submitted a fiercely worded proposal demanding the abolition of the Seven Warlords of the Sea system.
Zaraki had not created their grievance, but his victories over Doflamingo and the Government's other Warlord candidates had made the system's weaknesses impossible to ignore.
"Listen carefully."
Nusjuro's dry voice carried across the harbor.
"King Cobra of Alabasta and King Riku of Dressrosa have formally submitted a joint proposal to abolish the Warlord system after what Crocodile and Doflamingo did to their kingdoms. Your actions didn't create that grievance, Zaraki, but you helped expose how badly the system can fail, and your recent conduct has accelerated the political fallout."
A murmur spread through the nearby officers.
"That proposal has already triggered a chain reaction. More than half of the World Government's member nations are demanding an immediate debate."
His expression darkened.
"The situation is far more unstable than any of you seem to realize."
"Abolish the Warlords?"
A collective intake of breath swept through the Marines.
This was not some minor administrative change. The Seven Warlords had stood as one of the Three Great Powers for decades. Removing them meant disturbing the balance that had governed the seas for an entire era.
The tension across the harbor sharpened.
Garp spat to the side.
"Those pirate bastards should've been cleaned out years ago."
He gave a contemptuous snort.
"I've hated that whole system from the beginning. What? The Five Elders suddenly scared because a few kings finally grew some—"
"Enough, Garp!"
Nusjuro snapped toward him.
"This is not a question of fear. It is a question of order."
He pointed toward Zaraki.
"And since Zaraki has become one of the central figures in the crisis surrounding the Warlord system, he will naturally help deal with the immediate consequences before his discharge is completed."
Sengoku stepped forward again, placing his broad body between Zaraki and the Elder.
"Elder Nusjuro. What exactly do you mean by 'deal with the consequences'? Zaraki has already submitted his resignation. Only the formal discharge process remains."
"Which is exactly why he must give the World Government a reasonable explanation before removing that uniform."
Nusjuro reached inside his robe again and produced an invitation sealed with dark-red wax.
He did not hand it to Zaraki. He simply held it between two fingers.
"Fish-Man Island."
The name silenced the harbor once again.
"Your final assignment is to travel there, personally deliver the emergency revised Reverie date to King Neptune and the Ryugu royal family, confirm whether they are still attending, and coordinate their immediate departure if they are."
Zaraki rubbed his chin.
The image of a gigantic bubble hidden ten thousand meters beneath the sea surfaced in his mind.
Fish-Man Island had always maintained an awkward relationship with the World Government, though as a member kingdom, the Ryugu royal family had already received the original Reverie summons long ago.
Its position directly along the route into the New World also made it enormously important.
"Deliver the revised summons to Fish-Man Island?"
Sengoku's face darkened further.
"You know perfectly well what this means. If the proposal to abolish the Warlords passes, Fish-Man Island will be one of the first places affected."
His voice hardened.
"Jinbe is one of the current Warlords, and his position is one of the few political shields Fish-Man Island possesses. Dorry and Brogy's provisional charter would also be thrown into uncertainty before the ink on their arrangement has even dried."
Sengoku stared at Nusjuro.
"Sending Zaraki there right now is the same as throwing him into a powder keg."
"Jinbe is exactly why Zaraki must go," Nusjuro replied coldly. "The entire world saw their relationship during the Kalles crisis. Of everyone available to us, Zaraki is the one most likely to get an immediate audience with Neptune and keep the rescheduled departure from becoming another political incident."
Zaraki looked at the red invitation and gave a faint snort.
Trust?
Right.
More likely they intended to use his name to pressure Fish-Man Island.
Or they already had something waiting for him ten thousand meters beneath the sea.
If the Government intended to try something, that much ocean would certainly make a convenient place to hide it.
The logic behind the trap had holes in it, but politically, the assignment was irritatingly plausible.
"Something's wrong with this, Sengoku."
Garp lowered his voice, his heavy hand already settling on Zaraki's shoulder.
"These bald bastards aren't sending him there out of goodwill. Fish-Man Island can become a death trap in seconds."
His expression darkened.
"Send somebody else. Hell, I'll go myself. Zaraki's condition isn't—"
Sengoku did not answer.
His mind was clearly working, trying to find some trace of the real scheme in Nusjuro's expression.
Then he looked back at Zaraki and froze.
The battle lust in Zaraki's eyes had not faded.
It was growing stronger.
"If I decide the mission is inappropriate, I will recommend another officer."
Sengoku looked directly at Nusjuro, his voice unmistakably firm.
Nusjuro's pupils contracted.
His already grim face went completely cold, and his hand tightened around his sword until tiny cracking sounds came from his knuckles.
Even the sea breeze seemed to disappear as the pressure of one of the highest authorities in the world flooded across the harbor.
Sengoku's presence rose to meet it.
The two forces pressed against one another, and the atmosphere turned frigid.
No one spoke.
Only the wind moving through the rigging remained.
Veins bulged across the back of Nusjuro's hand where it gripped his sword, while Sengoku stood opposite him without moving.
At the center of the confrontation, Zaraki felt only annoyance.
'This is taking forever.'
The old men kept going back and forth like merchants haggling over vegetables.
Killing intent, authority, pressure—it was all noise without anything actually happening.
What was the point?
Garp's hand had tightened on his shoulder until the old man's palm felt almost like granite. Zaraki could also see something on Sengoku's face that rarely appeared there.
Real anger.
The kind that surfaced when someone threatened one of his own.
It was warm, even reassuring.
It was also incredibly annoying.
Zaraki rolled his shoulder.
Garp's hand slipped away.
That tiny movement immediately drew everyone's attention toward him.
"I'll take it."
The two words were light and casual, as though Zaraki had simply agreed to fetch a bottle of rum from the galley, yet they cut straight through the suffocating tension.
Whatever Nusjuro had been about to say died in his throat.
His face darkened from the abrupt interruption.
Sengoku and Garp both stared at Zaraki in disbelief.
Zaraki ignored them and walked forward.
Two steps carried him past the human barrier Sengoku had placed between him and the Elder.
He stopped directly in front of Nusjuro.
They were close enough for Zaraki to catch the faint scent of old incense, steel, and dried blood clinging to the man.
He reached out.
Without asking permission, Zaraki took the red invitation straight from Nusjuro's hand.
His fingertips brushed over the rough wax seal.
Fish-Man Island.
A mission ten thousand meters beneath the sea that could very easily turn into another trap.
Now that sounded interesting.
A smile slowly spread across Zaraki's face as the excitement he had been suppressing finally showed openly in his golden eyes.
The surrounding officers instinctively tensed.
"Good timing."
He casually flipped the invitation once between his fingers, keeping his gaze fixed on Nusjuro.
"I've been wanting to take a look down there anyway."
His smile widened.
"I'm curious what kind of 'surprise' you've got waiting ten thousand meters under the sea..."
His eyes gleamed.
"...and whether this trip stays as simple as you're pretending it is."
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