Pluto Rayleigh

Bang!

The office door was violently shoved open, and Staff Officer Tsuru strode in, her face ashen.

Tsuru clutched a telegram that had just arrived, and even her hands were trembling slightly.

Such a sight was almost unheard of from the great staff officer renowned for her calmness and wisdom.

"Sengoku!"

Tsuru's voice carried an unusual urgency.

Sengoku's heart sank as he shot to his feet. "What happened?"

Tsuru slapped the telegram onto Sengoku's desk. The ink on it had not even dried yet:

"Half an hour ago, a fierce conflict erupted near Area 12 of Sabaody! Saint Charlos... was attacked in public and severely injured!"

"What?!"

Sengoku felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet straight to his scalp, and his vision even went dark for an instant.

The thing he had feared most had happened after all—and in the worst possible way!

He snatched up the telegram and rapidly scanned it, his face growing paler the further he read.

By the end, it had turned livid, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged as he gripped the paper.

"All guards, including CP0's White Mask Leader, were defeated. Celestial Dragon Saint Charlos is severely injured and unconscious."

Bang!

He slammed his fist into the heavy solid-wood desk, instantly covering its sturdy surface in spiderweb cracks!

A trace of terrifying Conqueror's Haki leaked out of control, freezing the very air in the office!

"You bastard!!"

Sengoku's roar echoed through the room and even reached the hallway outside.

"How dare he?! How dare he?!!"

Attacking a Celestial Dragon—and severely injuring one in public!

This was a shocking crime rarely seen even in the eight hundred years since the World Government had been founded!

This was no longer swatting flies on a tiger's head. This was punching a hole straight through the sky!

Only after he had calmed down somewhat did Tsuru add in a grave voice:

"Field intelligence indicates that the one who injured Saint Charlos was a youth with only a left eye. That eye was an eerie blood-red color.

"He should be one of the Uchiha clan members Momonga mentioned. They really have caused quite a disturbance."

"I don't care who he is! Kicking a Celestial Dragon into critical condition is more serious than killing a hundred Marine officers!

"Now the pressure from the Five Elders and the fury of the World Nobles will all come crashing down on the Marines!!"

Sengoku breathed heavily, forcing himself to calm down.

What was done was done. Anger was useless. They had to make amends immediately and minimize the repercussions.

"Where's Akainu? Hasn't he reached Sabaody yet?" Sengoku asked urgently.

"Admiral Sakazuki is about to arrive at Sabaody, but intelligence indicates the enemy possesses an ability for extreme speed. Akainu may not be able to stop him in time, especially if they are determined to flee."

Tsuru analyzed the situation calmly.

Sengoku paced rapidly around the room, his mind racing.

There was no doubt about Akainu's strength. He had never worried that Akainu would be unable to defeat the enemy.

But since matters had reached this point, they could not allow even the slightest mistake.

If the enemy escaped from Akainu's hands, the Marines would be left in an extremely passive position.

He abruptly stopped, a flash of resolve appearing in his eyes.

"Not enough! Sakazuki alone may leave them an opportunity to escape!"

Sengoku spoke decisively and grabbed the golden Den Den Mushi again. "We need another layer of insurance!"

He quickly dialed another number.

This number was not connected to a fixed Marine base, but to a particular signal channel.

The Den Den Mushi rang seven or eight times before it was answered at a leisurely pace.

"Moshi moshi~ This is Borsalino~

"How scary, Mr. Sengoku. Calling this late at night... don't tell me I'm being asked to work overtime again~"

Kizaru's distinctive lazy voice came through.

The background was rather noisy, with what sounded like ocean waves and faint music.

Sengoku had no patience for nonsense. His tone was harsher than ever.

"Borsalino! Immediately cease all activities in the New World and head for the Sabaody Archipelago at your fastest speed! Now! Immediately!"

The noise on the other end seemed to die down somewhat, and Kizaru's voice became a little more serious.

"Oh my, oh my~ That sounds serious indeed~ Sabaody? Did something happen there again?"

"Someone severely injured Celestial Dragon Saint Charlos in public! They defeated every guard, including CP0, and have now fled!"

Sengoku spoke incredibly fast, each word crashing across the line like a cannonball.

"I've already ordered Sakazuki to head there, but the target excels at rapid movement!

"I need you to reach Sabaody immediately and cooperate with Sakazuki. At any cost, completely suppress the target!

"If necessary, you may execute them on the spot!"

The other end of the Den Den Mushi fell briefly silent.

Several seconds later, Kizaru spoke again, with much of his usual laziness gone.

"Severely injuring a Celestial Dragon... that really is punching through the sky~"

He paused.

"Understood, Mr. Sengoku. But I'm still some distance from Sabaody right now~"

"Get there as quickly as possible! Hurry!"

Sengoku practically roared.

"Got it~" Kizaru drawled, and the Den Den Mushi immediately hung up.

After setting down the Den Den Mushi, Sengoku slumped back into his chair as though drained, cold sweat already covering his forehead.

One Akainu, plus one Kizaru.

Two Marine Admirals dispatched at once, all to deal with an Uchiha clan that had suddenly emerged!

Even in the entire history of the Marines, this was extraordinarily rare.

This should make things foolproof.

Meanwhile, Area 50 of the Sabaody Archipelago, the shipbuilding and coating district.

Uchiha Yoru was happily munching on a Sabaody specialty mille-feuille, coated in frosting and nuts on the outside and filled with ice cream and fruit within.

Since the mille-feuille was so enormous, a bit of cream still clung to the corner of Yoru's mouth.

He sat cross-legged atop a pile of discarded bubble car parts, looking as relaxed as though he were sunbathing in his own courtyard.

Before him stood an old man with graying hair, round glasses, and ordinary workers' overalls.

The old man had a cigarette dangling from his lips as he leisurely brushed special resin onto the keel of a small sailboat.

His technique was practiced. His movements seemed casual, yet the force and angle of every stroke, as well as the resin's thickness, were all precisely right.

The faint sweetness of resin mingled with the pungent scent of tobacco in the air.

"Tch, this thing may be high in calories, but it tastes pretty good."

Yoru finished the rest of the pastry in a few bites and licked his fingers, though his gaze never left the old man's hands.

The coating worker glanced up at him and chuckled.

"Young people sure have a good appetite. What, interested in coating? This isn't easy work. Without more than ten years of practice, you won't spread it evenly. The bubble will burst before you're even halfway down."

"A little interested."

Yoru brushed the food crumbs from his hands and jumped down from the pile of parts.

He walked over to Rayleigh, crouched beside him, and looked at the evenly spread resin film shimmering with rainbow hues under the sunlight.

"Beautiful. But rather than teach me coating, why not teach me swordsmanship?"

Rayleigh's hand never paused as he brushed on the resin, and even the ash on his cigarette remained firmly in place.

"Kid, you've got the wrong person. What swordsmanship could an old geezer like me possibly know?"

"The former vice captain of the Roger Pirates, Pluto Rayleigh, known as the Pirate King's right hand, is no ordinary old geezer!"

That was still Yoru's style. He had no habit of beating around the bush.

He simply liked exposing people's identities outright.

Rayleigh's resin-brushing hand paused so slightly that it was almost imperceptible.

At last, the cigarette ash fell onto the wet resin with a soft hiss.

He removed his glasses, wiped them with the corner of his clothes, then put them back on.

Only then did he carefully examine the young man before him, dressed in strange black clothes.