The sky above Marineford was bright and clear. Seagulls circled lazily around the watchtowers, and warships were docked neatly along the main pier. But the peace of the morning didn't last long.
"GARP!! ARE YOU ACTUALLY STUPID OR JUST REALLY GOOD AT PRETENDING?!"
Sengoku's roar shook the entire office, making the window panes tremble. In front of him sat Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp, lounging comfortably on a couch, biting into a massive meat sandwich with a blissfully innocent face that only added fuel to the fire.
"Ahahaha! I was just helping the young cadets with their training! They needed a real opponent!" Garp said, patting his belly like he'd done the world a favor.
Sengoku, fresh from an all-night report session, stood up with fire in his eyes. "You let yourself get 'captured' during a training exercise! Then you destroyed the watchtower by hurling a cannonball with your bare hands—and you called it a 'simulation'?!"
Garp shrugged casually. "If they can catch me, that means they're good enough already."
"THEY DIDN'T CATCH YOU, YOU SURRENDERED JUST SO YOU COULD NAP IN THE HOLDING CELL!"
"Ahaha! That cell is nice and cool. And the pillows are way softer than the ones in my office!"
Sengoku gripped his hair like he was trying not to rip it out. "You're a Vice Admiral, Garp. Do you even 'realize' the weight of your rank?! This isn't just a title—it's responsibility!"
Garp stood and ambled over to the window, still chewing slowly. "Titles are just words. Actions are what count. Those kids? Too soft. The real world doesn't give out participation medals."
"Yes, the world is brutal," Sengoku snapped, "but that doesn't mean you have to recreate hell in our own training grounds!"
Garp laughed again. "You take things too seriously, Sengoku. How long have you been stuck at that desk? You're halfway to becoming a fossil!"
Sengoku let out a long sigh, massaging his temples. "Sometimes I think training a thousand cadets is easier than managing just one of you."
Garp turned and said with a mock-serious tone, though the grin never left his face, "That's because I'm not meant to be managed. I'm here to remind you... the world doesn't follow protocol."
Sengoku stared at him for a few seconds. His expression softened slightly. "Sometimes I forget you've fought through three generations of pirates... and you're still standing."
"Of course I am," Garp grinned wider. "Because I always have sandwiches."
Sengoku rolled his eyes. "You and your damn jokes..."
Suddenly, a loud knock interrupted their bickering. A marine officer stepped in and saluted. "Apologies for the interruption, Admiral Sengoku. Urgent report from the West Blue branch. High priority."
Sengoku took the document and flipped through it quickly. The relaxed look on his face vanished, replaced by a grim, focused stare.
Garp, noticing the shift, set his sandwich down and approached. "What is it?"
Sengoku reread the final lines aloud, voice heavy. "An old problem… one we thought was long buried."
Garp raised an eyebrow. "Name?"
"Lazhar," Sengoku replied. "Gerald Lazhar."
Garp fell silent. Even the usual laugh forming in his throat seemed to freeze.