CHAPTER 613: CHAPTER 132: WELL, YOU CAN’T BLAME GION

The battleship knifed through the waves with steady speed. A clean sea breeze rolled across the deck; white gulls traced lazy arcs overhead.

It should have been a day to relax, but Darren, lounging in a beach chair, shifted under Tsuru’s appraising gaze as if seated on needles.

"Ahem... this is our first joint mission at sea, isn’t it, Staff Officer Tsuru?" He lit a cigar, wearing a practiced smile to cover his awkwardness.

Tsuru let her gaze drift from his rugged face. She lifted a fresh cup of tea, took a measured sip, and smiled, eyes narrowing. "Indeed, Vice Admiral Darren."

"Speaking of which," Darren went on, a warmer sincerity edging in, "we could stand to communicate more."

"That’s always been my regret. Everyone’s eyes are drawn to Admiral Sengoku, Garp-san, and Zephyr-sensei—but I know Headquarters wouldn’t run without you."

"They call Admiral Sengoku the Marines’ ’master strategist,’ but the real architect of the Marines’ long-term growth has been you, Chief of Staff—quietly steering us from behind."

"Since my North Blue days I’ve admired you. After transferring to Headquarters, missions and training piled up—I’ve hardly had a chance to pay my respects."

Caught off guard by the sudden praise, Tsuru paused, then gave a dry little laugh. "Now I understand why Sengoku keeps trying to poach you as his adjutant."

With her experience, she recognized blatant flattery when she heard it.

Darren shook his head, tone earnest. "Please don’t take this as empty politeness. I’ve run operations across an entire sea."

"The Marines are vast and complex. Hunting pirates is our frontline work, and strength matters—but staff, logistics, and planning decide campaigns."

"Ship deployments, resource allocation, ammunition resupply, after-action analysis—those ’little’ details decide battles."

"I learned that in the North Blue," he said, voice unfeigned now. "Garp-san, Zephyr-sensei, Admiral Sengoku—they’re worthy of every honor. But you, Chief of Staff Tsuru... you’re the Marines’ true hero."

"You little rascal..." Tsuru chuckled, wagging a finger. "All right, that’s enough. I’m not Sengoku."

Even so, a slow chrysanthemum smile opened across her face, and the stiffness in her voice eased.

She took another sip, eyes brightening. "This tea is quite good."

Fragrance bloomed with each taste, a clean, lingering scent that left her clear-headed.

"I knew you liked tea," Darren said. "I made sure this ship’s stores had a few of the finest leaves."

Tsuru’s gaze softened. The little irritation she’d nursed on Gion’s behalf bled away by degrees.

And with it came a small, helpless pang.

Damn him... the man really is dangerously charming.

She studied him in silence. Strong lines; dark eyes with a quiet glint like starlight; brows sharp as forged steel; a jaw and Adam’s apple cleanly cut. The uniform only sharpened it all.

A wild, untamed air sat strangely well atop iron discipline. Reckless, yet controlled. Contradictions that fit.

No wonder Gion’s gone head over heels.

Tsuru sighed inwardly. Had she met a man like this twenty or thirty years ago, in her own spring, she might have toppled too.

Handsome, charismatic, capable, powerful—everything a woman could ask for, save for his tendency to play the field.

Scoundrel or not, she’d seen that vase of metallic blossoms in Gion’s room. Heard how, wherever he went—even while risking his life on mission—Darren would find a local coin and shape it into a gold-leaf flower for her.

A small gesture, yes. But remembering it in the middle of danger spoke to a steadier kind of care.

Let the young sort out the young.

She set her cup down and shifted to business. "Young Darren, what do you know about Doflamingo?"

He frowned, thinking. "Quite a bit."

"He’s twisted and obsessive, with a bloodthirsty bent for destruction. Not your typical World Noble—likely because of his childhood. Cunning and calculating."

"Stealing the Heavenly Tribute? He’s after leverage. He wants to force the Government’s hand."

Tsuru nodded, impressed despite herself. This one really is different—more than fists. She could already imagine the nonsense Sakazuki, Borsalino, or Kuzan would have tossed back if she’d asked them the same question. Those three...

"I’ve reached the same conclusion," she said. "That’s why Sengoku asked me to assist you."

"After he entered the Grand Line from the North Blue, I led several battleships to hunt him. Every attempt failed."

"Still—" She gave a wry smile. "Calling it ’retribution’ is generous. More like a warning. Our options with a Celestial Dragon are... limited."

Her gaze softened with a flicker of camaraderie. As someone who’d "dealt" with Doflamingo, she knew the bind. The Gorosei wouldn’t yield when the Heavenly Tribute—and the Government’s face—were on the line. Which meant the pressure would land squarely on the Marines.

Could they act? He was a Celestial Dragon.

Could they stand down? The Marines had to uphold the Government’s authority and recover the Tribute.

A no-win knot. A burning hot potato.

"It’s not hopeless," Darren said, smiling faintly. Calm voice; an inexplicable conviction under it. "There’s always a turn to be found."

Tsuru blinked, then watched his profile in quiet surprise. The confidence was oddly contagious; a measured calm settled over her.

Where does this kid get that certainty...?

To be continued...