Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
Inside the Fleet Admiral's Office, the atmosphere was so heavy it almost seemed to drip.
Buddha Sengoku, wearing his Fleet Admiral's coat, sat rigidly behind his broad desk.
Yet his expression bore no resemblance to the composure expected of the "Resourceful General."
A vein twitched on the Fleet Admiral's forehead, his mouth spasmed, and his hand clenched a document that had just arrived by express delivery from G-10 Base.
His eyes suggested he wasn't looking at a report, but at some indescribable horror that poisoned the mind.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Sengoku finally lost control, forcing several decidedly unbecoming words through his teeth. "Can someone tell me why?! Why the hell?!
"Why the hell would that solitary, arrogant bastard who barely even gave the government the time of day when they invited him to become a Shichibukai-the World's Greatest Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk-
"Have anything to do with Gern, that bastard who causes me trouble all day and runs his own faction?!"
He slammed the document onto his desk with a thunderous bang, startling the goat dozing beside the tea table.
"And what the fuck is this supposed to mean?!" Sengoku practically roared, snatching up the document and flinging it straight into the face of Garp, who was sneaking a hand toward the bag of senbei on his desk.
The document smacked against Garp's grinning face. He leisurely peeled it off and took a closer look.
The report bore the flamboyant signature "Gern," while the explanation field contained a line of outrageously brazen text:
[Sorry, but my personal charisma is simply too powerful. The World's Greatest Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk, has become deeply attracted to me and cannot free himself, so he has chosen to serve under me. Please be advised. Don't worry about me.]
Attached below was a photograph