CHAPTER 640: CHAPTER 159: FEELING SORRY FOR YOUNG DARREN

Marine Headquarters, Admiral’s Office.

"Sengoku, are you sure sending Garp, Kuzan, and Tokikake to the wedding is wise? Won’t they cause trouble?" Tsuru asked, exasperation and concern mingling in her eyes as she looked at Sengoku lounging on the sofa.

Sengoku spread his hands. "What else can we do? We can’t send Sakazuki or Borsalino, can we?"

Tsuru started to object, then let the breath out slowly. He wasn’t wrong. She and Sengoku were drowning in preparations for the Shichibukai induction ceremony; neither could spare the time for a diplomatic wedding. As for Sakazuki and Borsalino... absolutely not.

"Besides," Sengoku added, settling in, "even if those three act up, Young Darren will be there to rein them in."

Tsuru shot him a look. It certainly felt like he’d arranged this on purpose. One raided the office for senbei daily, another kept clamoring to hunt Roger, and the third whined endlessly about transferring to G-5. Sengoku had probably reached the end of his patience and shipped them off for some peace and quiet.

Poor Young Darren.

She remembered the crates of premium tea Darren had sent after the Heavenly Tribute heist and, inexplicably, felt a pang of guilt.

---

The battleship cut smoothly through blue water, trailing a snow-white wake.

On deck, chaos passed for celebration.

"Barbecue!"

"Fine wine!"

"Let’s sing!"

"Kick, turn... this is the Marines’ victory dance!"

Darren watched the three idiots with their arms around each other, kicking and howling like drunks at a village festival. A vein pulsed at his temple.

"Come on, Darren! Join in!" Kuzan waved, face bright red.

"No." Darren glanced at the Marines pretending not to stare along the rail and made a crisp cut-it-out gesture. His refusal was immediate and complete.

They have no shame. I do. I’m a Marine Disgrace, not a Marine fool.

He took a seat beneath the mast and flipped open an intelligence packet: the guest list for Fish-Man Island’s grand wedding, courtesy of Headquarters.

He lit a cigar and skimmed the names. Familiar ones leapt out:

Nefertari Cobra, twelfth monarch of Alabasta.

Riku Doldo III, King of Dressrosa.

Vinsmoke Judge, Supreme Commander of Germa 66.

Invitations had gone to many other World Government member nations as well: the Flower Country, home of the Happo Navy; the frigid Drum Kingdom in the East Blue. No pirate organizations appeared on the rolls.

Plenty of familiar faces, then.

Tokikake crouched at his elbow without warning, toothpick bobbing, hands buried in his pockets. "Germa 66! Hehehe~ That ’evil army’? I kicked ’em so hard they ran squealing!"

"Just me," Darren said dryly. "Not we."

Tokikake froze for a heartbeat, then pasted on a shameless grin. "Details. Teamwork makes the dream work."

Darren sighed. "How did you convince Admiral Sengoku to let you crash this wedding?"

Tokikake straightened and flicked his ridiculous rooster-comb hair. "Isn’t it fitting for a handsome Marine who embodies Justice to attend a grand banquet?"

"If you don’t behave, I’ll revoke your card," Darren said, casual as a knife.

"I knelt," Tokikake replied, unblinking.

Darren stared, then lifted a thumb in weary salute.

"Oh, right..." Tokikake glanced around to make sure Garp, Kuzan, and the others weren’t looking, then leaned in. "I’ve got something good."

He produced a small glass vial. Inside, dozens of tiny blue pills rattled.

"Take these... and you’ll get stronger," he whispered, prying the stopper loose like it physically pained him to part with half.

Darren’s mouth twitched. This is a wedding, not a rave. Do you want to die?

"No," he said, flat, waving it off.

"Are you sure?" Tokikake pressed, deadly earnest. "This stuff cost a fortune. Five million berries for this little bottle! You’ll be insanely strong!"

"What do you mean, eat and get strong?" a voice cut in behind them.

Kuzan’s eyes locked on the pills. In a blur, he snatched a handful.

"So, Darren! You’ve been secretly juicing up... and you didn’t tell me?" His eyes blazed. "I refuse to lose to you!"

Under Darren and Tokikake’s horrified stares, he tossed the pills into his mouth and swallowed.

"No—!!" Tokikake wailed.

Glug.

Silence descended.

Tokikake: ...

Darren: ...

Kuzan smiled beatifically.

Tokikake’s lips went white. He shook, buckled to a squat, and began to mutter, "We’re doomed, doomed..."

He’d tried one himself; it let him sprint up five flights without breaking a sweat.

Kuzan had just swallowed at least ten.

---

Half an hour later, Darren stood on deck, massaging his brow as he regarded the lifelike ice sculpture now gracing the planks.

What am I supposed to do with this?

Tokikake—the chief culprit—squatted at the far rail, stoically enduring Garp’s "discipline." At least it was quieter.

My head is killing me. Kuzan had nearly exploded from righteous fury earlier.

"Young Darren!" Garp strode over, arms folded, eyes alight with mischief. "What kind of mess have you stirred up now?"

"I went after Roger recently. The moment I mentioned your name, he tried to kill me!"

Darren spread his hands. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Although, Vice Admiral Garp," he added, "even if you hadn’t mentioned my name, wouldn’t he have tried to kill you anyway?"

Garp paused, considered, and nodded. "That’s... actually true."

Darren: ...

So much for the excuses he’d prepared.

"Vice Admiral Garp! Forward base just ahead!" a lookout called from the crow’s nest.

"Prepare to dock!" Garp barked.

They would undergo coating at the outpost before diving ten thousand meters into the deep to reach Fish-Man Island.

To be continued...