Navy Headquarters, Marineford.
Inside the highest chamber, which looked directly out onto the island's main square, thin wisps of cigar smoke mingled with the salty sea air.
Fleet Admiral Gin, a man in his twilight years who still possessed the terrifying physical prowess of his youth, sat leaning back in his chair.
Ignoring the mountain of documents piled on his desk, he was busy munching on rice crackers while holding a white Den Den Mushi receiver to his ear.
On the sofa in the corner of the room sat a heavily muscled man with hair styled to resemble horns. He was Kong, who at that time still held the rank of Navy Admiral.
Kong was reading reports coming in from all over the world, but his ears were also tuned in to the conversation at the Fleet Admiral's desk.
That special communication snail mimicked Komei's serious expression from the far end of the Western Sea.
Gin's jaw, which had been chewing on a cracker, suddenly stopped moving. His eyes, which usually looked droopy and tired, now widened sharply.
"Hold on a second, Komei," Gin interrupted in his characteristic deep, raspy voice. "Let me get this straight. You just found a teenager. A Mythical Zoan user who can manipulate blue fire into a sword? Capable of replicating six fighting styles in a matter of minutes? Able to use three types of Haki, even if you can't confirm it yet?"
Gin glanced briefly at Kong, who had now set down his documents and was straining to hear.
"And you're saying…" Gin's voice rose slightly. "…his physical potential is on par with that bastard Garp?!"
"Exactly, Gin," Komei's voice sounded static-filled yet firm through the phone receiver. "That's why I'm contacting you through this secure line. If I submitted the original report to central administration according to procedure, those greedy rats in Red Land would smell a rat immediately."
Fleet Admiral Gin snorted softly, then let out a hoarse laugh. Crumbs of rice crackers fell, littering the important documents on his desk.
"Kekyahaha! Of course. Those trashy nobles will surely try to make him their new lapdog or get rid of him if he's hard to control," Gin grumbled casually. "Alright then, you old geezer. I'll handle his promotion papers here and keep it under wraps. He'll just be listed as a talented young officer with decent Haki."
"I'm counting on you, old friend."
"Yeah, yeah. Just take care of that monster kid so he doesn't die young before reaching Marineford. Hang up the phone—you're interrupting my meal."
Click.
The connection was cut. Fleet Admiral Gin let out a long sigh, staring at the Den Den Mushi for a moment before turning to Kong.
"Quentin Seven," Kong muttered, arms crossed over his chest. "What a strange name. Are you sure you want to let Komei promote a complete rookie to Junior Admiral, Brother Gin?"
"Komei isn't the type of officer to be easily impressed, let alone go so far as to praise someone's physique as being on par with Garp," Gin replied, picking up his rice cracker again. "If Komei says that kid is a pillar of the future, then this ocean has truly just given birth to a real monster. Just let him play around in the West Sea for now."
---
Western Sea Main Base.
The sea breeze blew strongly against the blue seagull-emblazoned flag fluttering at the top of the mast. A Navy warship, specially designed to facilitate the movement of Rear Admirals, sat majestically at the base's harbor.
Quentin Seven walked calmly up the gangplank. A large white cloak bearing the word "Justice" fluttered on his back, partially covering his black attire; he had deliberately left the fan emblem slightly visible at the collar.
Hundreds of Navy soldiers assigned under his command stood in neat formation on the clean wooden deck. They saluted in unison, slapping their palms to their foreheads as Seven's boots touched the deck.
"Reporting for duty, Rear Admiral Seven! The warship and two hundred elite base soldiers are ready to receive your orders!" reported a young officer with the rank of Captain standing at the very front of the line. His voice was loud, firm, and without a shred of hesitation. The man was tall and sturdy with a hard, square jaw. His eyes were sharp and cold, radiating a determination rarely found in an officer of his age.
Seven's steps halted for a moment.
That face. That square jaw. From the depths of his memories of this world, the figure of the young man before him was instantly linked to a single name that would one day shake the entire ocean. Sakazuki.
The man with an ideology of absolute justice. The future Fleet Admiral. And right now, that man stood tall before him as his right-hand man.
'Interesting,' Seven thought to himself. He didn't show the slightest reaction.
Seven returned the military salute with a slight nod. His dark, calm gaze swept across the entire deck—from the rows of well-maintained iron cannons on the port and starboard sides to the pristine white sails ready to be unfurled.
"Have the navigation and weapon systems been checked?" Seven asked flatly.
"Everything has been checked three times, sir. There are no flaws," Sakazuki replied in a tone so flat it almost rivaled Seven's own. "We're just waiting for your orders to set sail. Where is our first patrol destination?"
Inside his spiritual realm, Seven could hear Shukaku's shrill laughter as he gleefully examined the cannons, as well as Matatabi's soft snores, already eager to smell the scent of blood and Devil Fruit energy.
Seven walked slowly past his ranks of soldiers, then stood at the ship's bow. He placed both hands on the wooden railing, gazing out at the vast ocean before him.
"Weigh anchor," Seven ordered without turning his head. "We'll comb through every inch of these waters. Find the pirate crews with the highest bounties..."
The corners of Seven's lips slowly turned upward, forming a thin, deadly smile.
"…especially those known to possess Devil Fruit abilities."
"Understood," Sakazuki replied briefly. Without wasting a moment, he turned to face the ranks of soldiers and repeated the order in a voice that boomed across the deck. "Weigh anchor! Hoist the sails! Move out!"
As the massive iron anchor was hauled up and the sails were fully unfurled to catch the wind, the warship began to cut through the waves, leaving the Western Sea's home port behind.