West Blue.
The sea breeze carried a faint salty tang.
A massive warship cut through the blue waves, advancing steadily.
On its deck stood several men whose names could make the whole sea tremble.
Sakazuki leaned against the railing.
An unlit cigar hung from his mouth, and the wind ruffled his distinctive buzz cut.
Once the Marines' greatest fighting force, he now had mixed feelings.
He had been patrolling these waters for days.
No pirates. No killing. Not even a glimpse of a gang.
When civilians looked at the warship, there was no longer fear or hostility in their eyes. Instead, they watched it with curious longing.
Because the warship flew the Empire's flag.
"What the hell is this..."
Sakazuki bit off a corner of his cigar.
The Empire protected civilians far more thoroughly than the Marines ever had.
If anyone laid a hand on a civilian, pirate or noble, the Empire's ninja killed them on the spot.
There was no room for negotiation.
And because of that,
he had not needed to make a move once.
Then
Sakazuki turned toward his former colleagues nearby.
Kuzan was asleep on a deck chair.
Borsalino trimmed his nails, humming an unfamiliar tune.
Momousagi held Kimpira in her arms and stared out at the sea.
These former members of the Marine High Command had all become employees of the Empire.
"Everyone."
Sakazuki could no longer stand the strange atmosphere.
He spat out the bits of tobacco in his mouth and strode to the center of the deck.
All eyes turned to him.
"The Empire's army has entered the Grand Line."
"How much longer are we going to waste time on this rust bucket?"
Sakazuki kept his voice low, but anger edged his words.
Kuzan lifted the sleep mask from his face.
"Well, well."