CHAPTER 617: CHAPTER 136: STUSSY, WHAT DO YOU THINK?

The battleship pressed on.

A cool sea breeze brushed Tsuru’s face as she watched the Vice Admiral on deck rinsing blood from his hands, her expression unreadable.

"Darren, did you truly intend to kill Doflamingo?"

He accepted the handkerchief a Marine offered, dried his hands, and turned with a mild smile. "How could I?"

"This kid knows his limits, Staff Officer Tsuru. Even if Donquixote Doflamingo’s been expelled from the Holy Land Mary Geoise, Celestial Dragon blood still runs in his veins. I was only teaching him some humility."

Tsuru said nothing.

Murderous intent can’t be hidden.

The instant the blade swept for Doflamingo’s neck, she’d felt it radiate from Darren—deep, cold, and real.

And...

The image flashed back: Doflamingo’s twisted, furious face and his venomous oath—Damn the Marines! I’ll kill you all sooner or later!—and Tsuru’s lips pressed tight.

The same deeply buried killing urge.

She’d doubted their "relationship" before, but what happened on the island had largely dispelled that. Anything else could be an act. The look of someone who truly wants another’s death cannot.

As the Wash-Wash Fruit’s user, Tsuru could "clean" stains from flesh and—more faintly—sense the grime in a human heart. Malice, hatred, spite: they didn’t hide well from her.

It seems Sengoku may have been too cautious...

She let out a quiet breath, steadied, and asked, "Do you think the Gorosei will accept Doflamingo’s terms?"

Darren bit a cigar, lit up, and ambled to the bow, letting the wind tear at his coat. He chuckled, shaking his head. "As subordinates, who are we to guess at our superiors’ intentions?"

"Spit it out," Tsuru snapped.

Hands lifted in surrender, he relented. "They probably will. They can’t kill him, and the Heavenly Tribute won’t return unless they meet his demand."

Tsuru nodded. That tracked. The instant Doflamingo went down, the Gorosei had ordered the Marines to pull out—negotiating with a pirate would stain their authority. With Doflamingo’s sensitive status, talks might also brush secrets far above Marine clearance. In the eyes of the World Government—especially the Five Elders—no matter how powerful the Marines were, they were tools to preserve order, not peers at the table.

---

A deserted island.

Doflamingo, dripping blood, smirked at the Den Den Mushi and wiped his mouth. "The Marines have left. Have you decided?"

In the Chamber of Deliberation at Pangaea Castle, the Gorosei fell into thoughtful silence. The hall was hushed, broken only by the soft simmer of tea.

At length, Saint Jaygarcia Saturn spoke, voice hoarse. "Doflamingo, why do you want the Shichibukai title?"

"Heh heh heh..." Doflamingo’s laugh was wicked. "That’s none of you old men’s concern. It’s my only condition."

"Heavenly Tribute for the Celestial Dragons in the Holy Land, versus a mere Shichibukai seat that means nothing to you. Isn’t the choice obvious?"

Saint Topman Warcury sneered. "So we should take this as a threat?" The scar on the Warrior God of Justice’s brow throbbed darkly.

"Oh, not a threat." Doflamingo’s mirth rose. "I’m more businessman than pirate."

"So call it a deal, not revenge."

Saint Shepherd Ju Peter, the blond Warrior God of Agriculture, curled his lip. "A deal? It sounds like payback. For shutting you out and casting you from Mary Geoise."

Doflamingo rolled a shoulder, opening blood-streaked hands. He licked his lips. "I’m generous. Let’s bury the past. You didn’t want me in the Holy Land—fine. My foolish father erred first."

"But don’t stand in my way while I reclaim, step by step, the power and status that are mine."

Silence deepened.

"We’ll need time to consider."

"No hurry," Doflamingo said, lighting a cigarette.

The line went dark.

Inside the chamber:

"He has the Heavenly Tribute. If we don’t recover it, what do we tell the Celestial Dragons?"

"It’s only a Shichibukai seat. Even granted, it won’t shake the world."

"I’m concerned the brat’s ambition is swelling."

"He wouldn’t dare. He knows where the line is."

"Exactly. If he didn’t, he’d have demanded a return to the Holy Land—he settled for a Shichibukai post."

"In that case—"

"Wait," Warcury said, looking up.

"What is it?" asked Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, samurai robes whispering as his hand rested on a sinister katana.

"I want one thing confirmed."

Confidence creased Warcury’s smile. He glanced toward the bronze-wood doors. "Come in."

Creak...

The doors swung wide.

A slender figure in a fox mask glided in and knelt. "Stussy, reporting to Their Excellencies."

A long white silk robe—mark of CP0—draped her; the elegant line of her back still showed.

Warcury narrowed his tired eyes and studied her. "You know the situation. What’s your assessment of Doflamingo as Shichibukai?"

Stussy bowed her head. "This matter is grave. This humble servant dares not speak foolishly."

Warcury chuckled. "You handled the candidate list we gave you with remarkable tact. You’ve shown your loyalty."

"So speak plainly. By your experience and judgment: what do you make of Doflamingo joining the Shichibukai?"

Here we go.

Stussy stilled her racing pulse and bowed lower, careful and meek.

"Your Excellencies," she said, voice faintly trembling, "in my humble view... allowing Doflamingo into the Shichibukai need not be a bad thing."

Behind the mask, a faint smile curved her crimson lips.

To be continued...