As a magnetic-levitation airship, the Justice easily reached the limits of its performance with the Rumble-Rumble Fruit User's assistance. It was speeding toward the Holy Land.
On the bridge, everyone had grown a little more "laid-back" after lunch.
Shining reclined in the VIP seat, with chilled cola and other snacks on the small table beside him.
As an Admiral, Kizaru still maintained some basic decorum and hadn't sprawled out. He merely sat there leisurely like a retired senior official, holding a cup of hot herbal tea and taking the occasional slurp.
"Ah... Director, you're drinking goji berry tea already? You're still in your prime. Take a shot at it and steal Sengoku's damn job."
Shining "poured the cola into his brain," producing a sizzling sound, then offered some encouragement to Kizaru, who looked every inch a retired old man.
"Shining, my boy... I have no such intentions. You really shouldn't say things like that..."
Kizaru might genuinely be lazy, but it was rather unlikely that Borsalino truly was.
Even as a joke, this conversation between two big shots was a little too frightening. The Marines on the bridge suddenly found their eyesight sharpening to 20/15.
Still, some Marines who had never met Shining before watched this Shichibukai, "the most cooperative with the Navy's work," with curiosity.
During lunch in the mess hall, York, the nearly five-meter-tall beauty with the look of a white cheerleader, hadn't been the only one who stood out.
Shining's way of "eating"—"pouring" food into his black plasma-sphere "head," breaking it down, then reading its composition and information—had also left quite an impression.
Even among the freak show that was the Shichibukai, Shining was the most inexplicable of them all.
"What's wrong, old man Punk?"
Shining "noticed" that Vegapunk had fallen deep into thought.
He tilted his