Marine Headquarters — New Marineford — Special Care Ward, Medical Division
Sunlight streamed through spotless glass windows, casting bright, geometric patches across the polished floor.The air carried the faint, sterile scent of disinfectant.
Fleet Admiral Gern Reginald Sigmar sat casually beside a hospital bed, his white coat of justice draped over a nearby chair. He wore only a shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His expression held a trace of weary amusement.
In his hand, he held a document—one he was currently eyeing sideways at the man reclining on the bed.
"Senior Borsalino…" Gern flicked the paper lightly, his tone caught somewhere between exasperation and reluctant amusement."This request of yours… for six months of medical leave… what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
On the bed, Admiral Kizaru leaned back lazily against the raised headrest. Bandages wrapped around his body, his complexion a bit pale—but that infuriatingly casual expression of his remained completely intact.
Hearing Gern's question, he didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leisurely speared a piece of apple with his fork, brought it to his mouth, and chewed with exaggerated calm.
Only then did he respond, in his signature drawn-out tone:
"Oooh my~ Fleet Admiral Gern-sama~~"
He deliberately stretched the honorific, making it sound almost syrupy.
"You know how it is~ when you get old~ bones get fragile, recovery gets slow~"
He sighed dramatically.
"This time, I went a bit too hard against those energetic youngsters from the Red-Hair Pirates…My organs, my Haki circuits… they all need proper rest and recovery~"
Kizaru squinted, putting on a pitiful act.
"My body just can't take punishment like you young folks anymore!"
He paused, then added lightly—
"Six months… might not even be enough~"
With that, he even rubbed his bandaged chest as if in great pain, letting out a few theatrical sighs.
Gern's lips twitched.
He didn't even bother exposing the act.
Of course, he knew Kizaru had genuinely fought with everything he had to intercept the Red-Hair Pirates—his injuries were real, and not light.
But with that man's Devil Fruit ability, his monstrous constitution, and top-tier medical care?
Six months was absurd.
This was clearly a shameless attempt to exploit "work injury" as an excuse to slack off—dodging the storm of administrative chaos that would follow the Marines' restructuring of the New World.
Just as Gern was about to start negotiating that ridiculous leave request—
a disturbance from the neighboring bed drew their attention.
Unlike the relaxed, almost comedic atmosphere around Kizaru—
the adjacent bed was surrounded by a tight formation of officers wearing the uniforms of the SWORD unit, their expressions solemn and tense.
The man lying there was wrapped in even more bandages than Kizaru—almost like a mummy. Only his eyes and mouth were visible.
Koby.
Freshly rescued from the brutal operation on Hachinosu.Barely pulled back from the brink of death.Only recently awakened after emergency treatment.
But Koby wasn't looking at the comrades gathered around him.
He didn't seem to care about his injuries, either.
His eyes were locked—completely fixed—
on the Den Den Mushi screen mounted on the wall.
The broadcast looped continuously:
A brand-new bounty poster.
Monkey D. Luffy — 3,000,000,000 Berries.
And the headline—
"The Fifth Emperor of the Sea."
On screen, Luffy's bright, carefree grin clashed starkly with the heavy weight of the title placed upon him.
After watching the full report—
Koby's hand slowly tightened around the white bedsheet covering him.
His fingers turned pale from the force.
Beside him, Helmeppo—and the other SWORD members—felt their hearts rise into their throats.
They assumed—
after surviving Hachinosu…after witnessing Vice Admiral Garp's disappearance…
Koby must be overwhelmed with grief and fury.
That he would swear vengeance.
Or make some impassioned declaration.
And then—
Koby spoke.
His voice was hoarse from both injury and emotion, yet every word rang with startling clarity—
each syllable filled with a kind of self-righteous resolve… almost as if he were moved by his own sense of duty.
"…Luffy-san…"
He paused, gathering strength.
Then, with the weight of a proclamation, he declared:
"I… must stop your dream!"
"—PFFFT—COUGH! COUGH COUGH!!!"
On the neighboring bed—
Kizaru, who had just taken another bite of apple—
immediately choked, coughing violently as bits of apple sprayed onto his blanket!
Still coughing, he flung out his hand and yanked open the thin curtain separating the beds with a sharp whoosh!
For once, his perpetually half-lidded eyes were wide open.
He stared at Koby—
like he was looking at some kind of alien lifeform.
The room fell into sudden silence.
Only Kizaru's suppressed coughing and the faint drone of the news broadcast remained.
A few seconds later, he finally caught his breath. Wiping the corner of his mouth, he spoke in a tone dripping with disbelief—
and unmistakable sarcasm.
"…Vice Admiral Garp…"
He paused, shaking his head slowly before finishing:
"…having a disciple like you…"
"…what a blessing that must be."
The irony in his voice was so thick it was practically overflowing.
Even the previously fired-up SWORD members now wore awkward, conflicted expressions.
And then—
Gern stood.
Holding the leave request, he walked calmly to Koby's bedside.
"Fleet Admiral!" The SWORD officers immediately snapped to attention, saluting sharply.
Gern waved them off casually, his gaze settling on Koby's bandage-wrapped face—on those unwavering eyes filled with determination.
He didn't ask about his injuries.
Didn't offer comfort.
Didn't mention Garp.
Instead, he spoke plainly:
"Colonel Koby."
"Why is it… that you don't consider stopping Teach's dream instead?"
"…!"
Koby froze.
Clearly, he hadn't expected that question.
His mouth opened slightly—but no answer came.
Why Luffy… and not Blackbeard?
Because… Luffy was his friend? His benefactor?
But Blackbeard was the greater evil.
The logic spun through his mind—
yet failed to form into anything solid.
Gern didn't wait.
He continued calmly:
"Could it be…"
He leaned down slightly, meeting Koby's eyes.
"…that you know Straw Hat Luffy—"
"Even if you stand against him… even if you try to stop his so-called 'dream'…"
"…he won't actually kill you."
"He might even… hold back, out of consideration for your 'friendship.'"
"…Isn't that right?"
Gern straightened, his gaze calm and unreadable.
"But if you were to face Marshall D. Teach…"
"You would truly die."
A faint, almost mocking edge entered his voice.
"You really are… quite calculating, aren't you?"
"First, you stake Garp in the New World—"
"and then you turn around and target his grandson."
He let out a quiet, humorless breath.
"If you're going to shear sheep…"
"…you've picked quite the family to keep shearing."