Marine Headquarters, New Marineford, the medical department's intensive care ward.
Sunlight streamed through the spotless glass windows, casting bright squares across the polished floor.
The faint, distinctive smell of disinfectant hung in the air.
Fleet Admiral Gern sat casually in a chair beside a hospital bed, his Fleet Admiral's cloak hanging off to one side.
He wore only a shirt, with his sleeves rolled up to reveal his sturdy forearms, and a somewhat helpless expression on his face.
Holding a document, he glanced sidelong at the senior officer on the bed, who was leisurely spearing a piece of apple with a fork.
"Borsalino," Gern shook the document in his hand, sounding both amused and exasperated.
"This... application for six months of medical leave... what's that supposed to mean?"
On the hospital bed, Kizaru reclined against the raised backrest, his body also wrapped in quite a few bandages.
His face was slightly pale, but his trademark expression-the kind that begged for a punch-hadn't diminished in the slightest.
At Gern's question, he first unhurriedly put the apple into his mouth and chewed a few times before replying in his distinctive, drawn-out drawl.
"Oh my~ Lord Fleet Admiral Gern~~"
He deliberately drew out "Lord" in a soft, lingering tone.
"I'm getting old, you know~ My bones are brittle, and I heal slowly~"
"I pushed myself a little too hard fighting those energetic youngsters from the Red Hair Pirates this time.
"My internal organs, my Haki pathways... they all need plenty of rest~"
Kizaru narrowed his eyes, looking every bit the frail patient in desperate need of recuperation. "My body certainly can't take punishment like you youngsters' can!"
"Six months... might not even be enough~"
After saying that, he solemnly rubbed his bandaged chest and let out a few theatrical sighs.
Watching his overblown