Chapter 27
In the war room of Marine Headquarters, a group of high-ranking officers gathered around a massive table, its surface covered with maps and reports. The atmosphere was tense, a mixture of frustration and disbelief palpable in the air.
"I still can't believe it," Rear Admiral Hina muttered, her eyes fixed on the latest casualty figures. "How is one man causing us this much trouble?"
Vice Admiral Momonga shook his head, his expression grim. "It's not just one man anymore, Hina. Rahmuro's reshaped the entire Big Mom Pirates. They're operating with a level of efficiency I've never seen in a pirate crew."
"It's like he's turned them into a damn navy," another officer grumbled. "Did you see the reports from their last raid? Precision strikes, coordinated attacks, even fucking supply chain management. Since when do pirates worry about logistics?"
A young captain, fresh from the academy, spoke up hesitantly. "Sir, if I may... isn't this a good thing? I mean, if they're becoming more like us, doesn't that make them easier to predict?"
The room fell silent, all eyes turning to the young officer. It was Vice Admiral Tsuru who finally answered, her weathered face creased with a mixture of amusement and concern.
"Oh, you sweet summer child," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "That's exactly the problem. Rahmuro isn't just imitating us - he's improving on our methods. He's taking everything we've spent centuries perfecting and adapting it to piracy."
She picked up a report, waving it for emphasis. "Take this latest engagement. Rahmuro didn't just defeat our forces - he outmaneuvered them at every turn. It's like he knew exactly what we were going to do before we did it."
"Because he did," Momonga interjected, his voice tight with frustration. "According to our intelligence, Rahmuro's been studying every book on naval tactics he can get his hands on. Including some written by our own people."
A low murmur of disbelief rippled through the room. Tsuru nodded grimly. "Exactly. He's not just fighting us - he's learning from us. And he's applying those lessons with a ruthlessness that would make Akainu proud."
"So what do we do?" Hina asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind. "How do we fight an enemy who knows our playbook better than we do?"
Tsuru's eyes gleamed with a hint of her old fire. "We change the game. Rahmuro's expecting us to act like Marines - so we need to start thinking like pirates."
The room erupted in a chorus of protests and arguments. Tsuru held up a hand, silencing them. "I'm not saying we abandon our principles. But we need to be willing to adapt, to think outside the box. Rahmuro's success comes from his ability to blend Marine tactics with pirate unpredictability. We need to do the same."
XXX
Fleet Admiral Sakazuki stood at the window of his office, his fists clenched so tightly that wisps of smoke rose from between his fingers. The latest intelligence reports lay scattered across his desk, each one a testament to the growing threat posed by Sanjul Rahmuro and the Big Mom Pirates.
"A goddamn mid-tier Vice Admiral," he muttered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "How the hell did we let this happen?"
A knock at the door interrupted his brooding. "Enter," he barked, not bothering to turn around.
Vice Admiral Momonga stepped in, his face grim. "Sir, we've finished analyzing the latest engagement. It's... well, you should see for yourself."
Sakazuki took the proffered report, his eyes scanning the pages with growing disbelief. "This can't be right," he growled. "Doberman... dead? And Cancer let go?"
Momonga nodded, his expression pained. "Rahmuro apparently told Cancer they were 'even now.' It's... it's unprecedented, sir."
Sakazuki slammed the report down on his desk, the wood cracking under the force of his magma-infused fist. "Two months. He's been on the job for two fucking months, and he's already taken out one of our best."
He turned to face Momonga, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. "And now we have to treat him like one of our own. A mid-tier Vice Admiral... Christ, what's next? Will we be saluting him?"
Momonga shifted uncomfortably. "There's more, sir. Our intelligence suggests that Rahmuro is... well, he's on his tenth book now."
Sakazuki felt a headache building behind his eyes. "Let me guess. Another one of our tactical manuals?"
"Worse, sir," Momonga replied. "It's 'Economic Warfare: Plunder and Prosperity' by Haruta. He's not just studying our military tactics anymore. He's looking at the big picture."
Sakazuki cursed under his breath. "Of course he is. Because why settle for being a thorn in our side when you can be a goddamn mountain?"
He began pacing, his footsteps leaving scorch marks on the polished floor. "What else do we know about his methods? His personality?"
Momonga consulted his notes. "Our sources indicate that he's... well, he's not what we expected, sir. He's temperate, patient, diligent. And vengeful when crossed. But he's not flashy. It's all substance, no style."
"The best of silver tier," Sakazuki muttered. "Not excellent at anything, but good enough at everything that matters. And he's got the raw power to back it up."
He paused, a thought striking him. "You said he's managing internal factions? How many?"
Momonga's eyes widened slightly as he relayed the information. "Sir, according to our latest intelligence, Rahmuro is coordinating 467 various captains or higher within the Big Mom Pirates, including dozens of Big Mom's own children and grandchildren. Plus another 103 allied and subordinate captains. That's..."
"570 people," Sakazuki finished, the number hitting him like a physical blow. "He's managing 570 different egos, quirks, and ambitions. And he's doing it well enough to launch coordinated attacks against us."
He turned back to the window, his mind racing. "This isn't just about military might anymore, Momonga. Rahmuro's turned the Big Mom Pirates into a well-oiled machine. He's not just fighting us on the battlefield. He's outmaneuvering us politically, economically..."
"Diplomatically," Momonga added. "Our sources indicate he's a master of coalition warfare. In one recent operation, he managed to get the Iron Fist Pirates, Fire Tank Pirates, Thunderbolt Pirates, and Shadow Stalkers to work together with 19 of Big Mom's own children. That's 23 ships in one operation, sir."
Sakazuki felt a chill run down his spine. "He's not just a pirate anymore. He's a goddamn admiral in all but name."
He turned back to Momonga, his expression hardening. "We need to change our approach. Radically. Everything we've been doing up until now - it's not enough. We're not just fighting a pirate crew anymore. We're facing an organized, efficient war machine."
Momonga nodded, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "What do you suggest, sir?"
Sakazuki's gaze drifted to the books on his shelf - tactical manuals, historical accounts, economic treatises. For a moment, he saw them as Rahmuro must see them - not just as knowledge, but as weapons.
"We fight fire with fire," he said finally. "I want the task force expanded even more. Top strategists, economists, diplomats - the best minds we have. Their job? Same thing as before. Get inside Rahmuro's head. I want to know what he's reading, what he's thinking, what he's planning. I want to know him better than he knows himself."
He paused, a grim smile spreading across his face. "And one more thing. I want every officer, from Rear Admiral up, to start thinking like Rahmuro. No more flashy displays of power. We need to be efficient, pragmatic, boring if necessary. Anything to counter this bastard's strategies."
As Momonga hurried out to carry out his orders, Sakazuki turned back to the window. His eyes fixed on the horizon, where somewhere out there, Sanjul Rahmuro was planning his next move.
XXX
Meanwhile, in the war room of Marine Headquarters, a group of high-ranking officers gathered around a massive table, its surface covered with maps and reports. The atmosphere was tense, a mixture of frustration and disbelief palpable in the air.
Vice Admiral Tsuru, her weathered face creased with concern, addressed the assembled officers. "Gentlemen, we need to face facts. Sanjul Rahmuro isn't just another pirate captain. He's a strategist, a tactician, and a leader of the highest caliber. And he's using our own methods against us."
She gestured to a large screen, where images of recent battles flashed by. Each one a testament to the Big Mom Pirates' newfound efficiency and coordination.
"In the past month alone," Tsuru continued, her voice steady but tinged with urgency, "Rahmuro has overseen nine major engagements against our forces. Seven victories, two defeats. And even in defeat, he's managing to turn the situation to his advantage."
A young captain raised his hand hesitantly. "Ma'am, if I may... how is he achieving this level of success? Surely one man can't make that much of a difference?"
Tsuru's eyes narrowed slightly. "One man? No. But Rahmuro isn't just one man anymore. He's the Grand Admiral of Territorial Expansion and Defense for the Big Mom Pirates. He sits just below the Sweet Commanders in their hierarchy. And he's using that position to reshape their entire organization."
She picked up a report, waving it for emphasis. "Take this intercepted letter, for example. After a failed operation, Rahmuro wrote to his captains, taking full responsibility for the failure. 'If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt,' he wrote, 'it is mine alone.'"
A murmur of surprise rippled through the room. Tsuru nodded grimly. "Exactly. He's not just a tactician. He's a leader. One who's earning the respect and loyalty of his subordinates through his actions, not just his rank."
Vice Admiral Momonga spoke up, his voice tight with frustration. "It's not just his leadership style that's concerning. It's his approach to warfare. He's not fighting like a typical pirate. He's employing advanced military tactics, the kind we teach at the highest levels of the Academy. But he's combining them with a pirate's ruthlessness and unpredictability."
"And let's not forget his diplomatic skills," another officer added. "He's managing to keep 570 different captains and high-ranking pirates working together. That's not just impressive - it's damn near miraculous."
Tsuru nodded, her expression grave. "Which brings us to our current dilemma. How do we fight an enemy who knows our playbook better than we do? An enemy who's not just matching our tactics, but improving on them?"
The room fell silent as the officers grappled with the question. It was Rear Admiral Hina who finally spoke up, her voice tinged with a mixture of admiration and frustration.
"We need to start thinking like Rahmuro," she said, her eyes scanning the room. "No more flashy displays of power. No more relying on brute force. We need to be efficient, pragmatic, boring if necessary."
A chorus of protests erupted, but Hina held up a hand, silencing them. "I know it goes against everything we've been taught. But look at the results Rahmuro's achieving. He's not excellent at anything, but he's good enough at everything that matters. And he's using that to outmaneuver us at every turn."
Tsuru nodded approvingly. "Hina's right. We need to adapt. To evolve. Rahmuro's success comes from his ability to blend Marine tactics with pirate unpredictability. We need to do the same."
XXX
As the officers began to debate strategies and tactics, on the other side of the world, Sanjul Rahmuro sat in his quarters aboard the Ghostly Gale. Spread out before him were maps, reports, and a stack of books that would make any naval academy instructor proud.
He picked up a dog-eared copy of "Economic Warfare: Plunder and Prosperity," a small smile playing on his lips as he considered the implications of its contents. The Marines had dismissed him once, seeing nothing more than a competent but unremarkable pirate.
Oh, how things had changed.
XXX
In the bustling halls of Marine Headquarters, a palpable sense of unease had settled over the officers and staff. The name "Sanjul Rahmuro" was on everyone's lips, spoken in hushed tones tinged with a mixture of fear, respect, and disbelief.
Vice Admiral Momonga stood before a group of senior officers, his face etched with concern as he delivered the latest intelligence briefing.
"Gentlemen," he began, his voice grave, "I'm afraid the situation in the New World has become even more... surreal than we initially thought."
He gestured to a large screen behind him, where images of recent engagements with the Big Mom Pirates flashed by. But these weren't the chaotic, haphazard battles they were used to seeing. Instead, they showed coordinated fleet movements, precision strikes, and meticulously executed strategies.
"What you're seeing," Momonga continued, "is not the work of a typical pirate crew. This is the result of Sanjul Rahmuro's leadership. In just a few months, he's transformed the Big Mom Pirates into a force that fights with the efficiency of a Marine fleet... except they fight dirty and don't give a damn about collateral damage."
A young captain raised his hand, his face pale. "Sir, is it true that Rahmuro's already considered equivalent to a mid-tier Vice Admiral?"
Momonga nodded grimly. "I'm afraid so. And according to our intelligence agencies, if he continues at this pace, he could reach Admiral level in terms of fighting ability, tactics, and strategy within two years."
A collective gasp went through the room. Admiral Fujitora, who had been silently observing until now, spoke up. "In a true meritocracy, a man like Rahmuro would have been a Vice Admiral by 30, an Admiral by 32. It's... unsettling to see such talent on the other side."
Momonga clicked to the next slide, showing a map of the New World dotted with Big Mom Pirate territories. "But it's not just his military prowess that's concerning. Look at this."
The map zoomed in on several islands, showing bustling ports and thriving communities. "Trade is flourishing under Rahmuro's protection. His patrols are meticulously planned, ensuring safe passage for merchants. Disputes are settled with a semblance of fairness by his network of adjudicators. Hell, even healthcare and education have improved. He's implemented systems to ensure a steady supply of doctors and teachers to far-flung islands."
"It's like we're not fighting a Yonko crew anymore," Rear Admiral Hina muttered. "We're up against an emerging state."
Momonga nodded, his expression grim. "Exactly. And if Rahmuro is even half as successful as our projections suggest, the Big Mom Pirates could outlast Linlin herself."
He clicked to another slide, showing an intercepted supply ship. "Look at this. Everything is cataloged and organized with military precision. Inventory lists, flow charts, Gantt charts for planning. It's like looking at one of our own supply ships."
Admiral Kizaru, his usual lazy demeanor replaced by a look of genuine concern, spoke up. "Oooh, scary stuff. But surely one man can't make that much of a difference, can he? Even if he is some kind of tactical genius?"
Momonga shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not just one man anymore. Rahmuro's reshaped the entire Big Mom Pirates. He's managing 570 different captains and high-ranking pirates, keeping them all working together towards a common goal. It's... well, it's unprecedented."
He turned back to the assembled officers, his voice taking on a note of urgency. "We need to change our approach. Radically. Everything we've been doing up until now - it's not enough. We're not just fighting a pirate crew anymore. We're facing an organized, efficient war machine."
XXX
As the briefing continued, on the other side of the New World, Sanjul Rahmuro sat in his office aboard the Ghostly Gale. Spread out before him were maps, reports, and a stack of books that would make any naval academy instructor proud.
A knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Enter," he called, not looking up from his work.
Charlotte Smoothie stepped in, her towering form filling the doorway. "Rahmuro," she said, her voice a mixture of respect and wariness, "I've just received word from our spies in Marine Headquarters. It seems you've made quite an impression."
Sanjul looked up, a small smile playing on his lips. "Oh? Do tell."
Smoothie settled into a chair across from him, her eyes never leaving his face. "They're calling you a mid-tier Vice Admiral now. In terms of threat level, at least. And their analysts are projecting you could reach Admiral level within two years if you keep this up."
Sanjul leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Interesting. They're adapting faster than I expected. We'll need to adjust our strategies accordingly."
Smoothie raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem surprised. Or particularly pleased, for that matter."
"Why would I be?" Sanjul replied, his voice calm. "It's just an assessment. What matters is results, not rankings."
He stood, moving to a large map of the New World pinned to the wall. "Besides, we have more important things to focus on. How are the new trade routes progressing?"
Smoothie blinked, thrown off by his abrupt change of subject. "Uh, well. The merchants are reporting increased profits, and the islands under our protection are seeing economic growth. But Rahmuro, don't you think we should discuss-"
"Excellent," Sanjul interrupted, making a note on the map. "And the education initiative? Are we meeting our targets for teacher recruitment?"
Smoothie sighed, realizing she wasn't going to get a reaction out of him. "Yes, we're ahead of schedule. The first batch of new schools will be operational within the month."
Sanjul nodded, satisfaction evident in his eyes. "Good. Very good. Now, about our next operation..."
As he launched into a detailed explanation of his latest strategic plan, Smoothie found herself marveling at the man before her. This wasn't the Sanjul Rahmuro who had joined them as a debt collector. This was a leader, a strategist, a force of nature that was reshaping the very concept of piracy in the New World.
And as she listened to him outline a plan that would make any Marine Admiral proud, she couldn't help but wonder: what would the New World look like in two years' time, under the guidance of this unlikely pirate admiral?
XXX
Back at Marine Headquarters, Fleet Admiral Sakazuki stood at the window of his office, his fists clenched so tightly that wisps of smoke rose from between his fingers. The latest intelligence reports lay scattered across his desk, each one a testament to the growing threat posed by Sanjul Rahmuro and the Big Mom Pirates.
"A goddamn emerging state," he muttered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "How the hell did we let this happen?"
He turned back to his desk, his eyes falling on a particularly troubling report. It detailed the improvements in healthcare and education on islands under Big Mom's protection. Improvements implemented by Rahmuro.
"It's not enough that he's beating us on the battlefield," Sakazuki growled. "Now he's winning hearts and minds too."
A knock at the door interrupted his brooding. "Enter," he barked.
Vice Admiral Tsuru stepped in, her weathered face etched with concern. "Sakazuki," she said, her voice grave, "we need to talk about Rahmuro."
Sakazuki nodded, gesturing for her to continue.
Tsuru took a deep breath. "Our analysts have completed their latest assessment. If Rahmuro continues on his current trajectory, he could reach Admiral level within two years. Not just in terms of combat ability, but in strategy and leadership as well."
Sakazuki felt a chill run down his spine. "Two years? That's... that's impossible. No one improves that quickly."
Tsuru shook her head. "It's not about improvement, Sakazuki. It's about potential. Rahmuro's always had this capability. He's just never had the opportunity or motivation to fully realize it until now."
She paused, her eyes meeting Sakazuki's. "In a true meritocracy, a man like Rahmuro would have been a Vice Admiral by 30, an Admiral by 32. We're not just facing a pirate anymore. We're up against a naval genius who's using our own playbook against us."
Sakazuki slammed his fist on the desk, the wood cracking under the force of his magma-infused strike. "Dammit, Tsuru! How did we miss this? How did we let someone like that slip through our fingers?"
Tsuru's expression was grim. "We didn't miss it, Sakazuki. We ignored it. Rahmuro didn't fit our preconceptions of what a threat should look like. He wasn't flashy or brutally powerful. He was... efficient. Practical. Boring, even."
She gestured to the reports scattered across the desk. "And now look at what he's accomplished in just a few months. He's not just fighting us. He's building something. Something that could outlast Big Mom herself."
Sakazuki felt a headache building behind his eyes. "So what do we do? How do we fight an enemy who's not just matching our tactics, but improving on them?"
Tsuru was quiet for a moment, considering. "We need to change our approach. Radically. Everything we've been doing up until now - it's not enough. We're not just fighting a pirate crew anymore. We're facing an organized, efficient war machine."
She paused, her eyes meeting Sakazuki's. "We need to start thinking like Rahmuro. No more relying on brute force or flashy displays of power. We need to be efficient, pragmatic, boring if necessary. Anything to counter this bastard's strategies."
Sakazuki nodded slowly, his mind racing. "Agreed. But it's not just about military tactics. We need to address the other aspects of his operation too. The trade routes, the healthcare initiatives, the education programs..."
"Exactly," Tsuru said. "We can't just fight Rahmuro on the battlefield. We need to compete with him in every arena. Show the people of the New World that we can offer them something better than what the Big Mom Pirates are providing."
XXX
As they continued to discuss strategies and plans, on the other side of the New World, Sanjul Rahmuro stood on the deck of the Ghostly Gale, surveying the fleet assembled before him. Ships from a dozen different crews, all working together under his command.
Galette approached, a small smile on her face. "Impressive sight, isn't it?" she said, gesturing to the fleet. "I never thought I'd see the day when so many different crews would work together like this."
Sanjul nodded, satisfaction evident in his eyes. "It's a start," he said. "But we have a long way to go yet."
Galette studied him for a moment, her expression curious. "You know, most men would be celebrating. The Marines are calling you a mid-tier Vice Admiral now, in terms of threat level. There's talk you could reach Admiral level within two years."
Sanjul shrugged, his eyes still on the horizon. "Rankings and titles are meaningless. What matters is results."
He turned to her, his expression serious. "We're not just fighting the Marines, Galette. We're building something. Something that could change the face of the New World. That's what I'm focused on."
As they stood there, watching the sun set over their growing empire, Galette couldn't shake the feeling that she was witnessing the birth of something truly extraordinary. Sanjul Rahmuro wasn't just changing the game - he was rewriting the rules entirely.
And God help anyone who stood in his way.
XXX
The war room of Marine Headquarters was thick with tension as the highest-ranking officers gathered around the massive oak table. Fleet Admiral Sakazuki sat at the head, his face etched with lines of frustration and barely contained rage. To his right, Vice Admiral Tsuru's weathered hands shuffled through a stack of intercepted communications. The room was silent save for the rustle of papers and the occasional creak of a chair as the officers shifted uneasily.
Sakazuki's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "Let's begin. Tsuru, what do we have?"
Tsuru cleared her throat, her eyes scanning the documents before her. "Three intercepted messages from Sanjul Rahmuro in the past month. Each one... well, you should hear them for yourselves."
She lifted the first paper, her voice steady as she read:
"'Our landings in the Aspara Island Northern Coastal area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops,'" Tsuru recited. "'My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. The Big Mom personnel and the allied crew members did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.'"
A low murmur rippled through the assembled officers. Vice Admiral Momonga leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "He's taking full responsibility for the failure? That's... unexpected for a pirate."
Tsuru nodded grimly. "It gets more interesting. Our analysts noted that Rahmuro made a change in his original draft. He crossed out 'This particular operation' and replaced it with 'My decision to attack.' It's a subtle shift, but a significant one."
"He's personalizing it," Vice Admiral Dalmatian growled, his scarred face twisted in a scowl. "Making it clear that the buck stops with him. It's a tactic to inspire loyalty."
Sakazuki's fist clenched, wisps of smoke rising from between his fingers. "It's more than that. It's the kind of message I'd expect from a seasoned admiral, not some upstart pirate barely out of his twenties."
Tsuru continued, her voice carrying a hint of grudging respect. "There's more. Two other quotes we've managed to intercept. The first: 'I will use the lives of those under my command if it suits the overall goals. But I will not waste them.'"
The room fell silent as the officers processed the words. It was Vice Admiral Kizaru who broke the silence, his usual lazy drawl tinged with surprise. "Oooh, scary. He's not just throwing lives away for the fun of it. He's... calculating."
"Precisely," Tsuru nodded. "And here's the second quote: 'Every decision carries weight, and I bear that burden willingly. Strategic decisions must be precise; the cost of error is paid in blood. Victory is not won without cost; I will use what is necessary to achieve it. The lives of my crew are tools; each loss must serve our greater purpose. I accept full responsibility for our actions, successes, and setbacks alike. But I will ensure that they are not in wasted vain.'"
The silence that followed was deafening. Sakazuki's chair creaked as he leaned back, his eyes closed in thought. When he spoke, his voice was low, dangerous. "This isn't just some punk playing at being a leader. This is..."
"An admiral," Vice Admiral Fujitora finished, his blind eyes somehow seeming to pierce through the tension in the room. "He speaks like one of us."
Momonga shook his head in disbelief. "But how? He's barely thirty years old. Where did he learn to think like this, to lead like this?"
"Books," Tsuru replied, tapping another report. "Our intelligence suggests he's been devouring every tactical manual, historical account, and leadership treatise he can get his hands on. He's not just reading them - he's internalizing them, applying them."
Sakazuki stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He began to pace, each step leaving a faint scorch mark on the polished wood. "So we're not just dealing with a powerful Devil Fruit user or a charismatic leader. We're facing a strategist who's actively studying and improving himself."
"And his forces," Dalmatian added. "These messages... they're not just for show. He's building loyalty, creating a sense of shared purpose. It's..." he hesitated, the words seeming to pain him, "it's damn effective."
Kizaru leaned back in his chair, his perpetual smirk fading slightly. "But he's still making mistakes, right? You said he failed at Aspara Island."
Tsuru nodded. "Yes, but even his failures are concerning. He's learning from them, adapting. And his troops... they're not losing faith in him. If anything, his willingness to take responsibility seems to be strengthening their loyalty."
Fujitora's quiet voice cut through the tension. "We're overlooking something important here. Rahmuro isn't just leading the Big Mom Pirates. He's managing a coalition of crews, each with their own ambitions and egos. The fact that he's able to keep them united, to inspire this level of loyalty across such a diverse group..."
"It's unprecedented," Sakazuki finished, his voice tight with barely contained fury. "He's turning a loose alliance of pirate crews into a goddamn navy."
The room fell silent once more as the implications sank in. It was Vice Admiral Onigumo who finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "So what do we do? How do we counter someone who's essentially becoming one of us, but without our constraints?"
Sakazuki turned to face the assembled officers, his eyes blazing with determination. "We adapt. We evolve. From this moment forward, Sanjul Rahmuro is to be treated as a hostile admiral-level threat. I want every resource we have dedicated to understanding his strategies, predicting his moves."
He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. "And I want each of you to start thinking like him. No more relying on brute force or devil fruit powers alone. We need to be smarter, more efficient. We need to out-think him at every turn."
Tsuru nodded, a grim smile on her face. "In other words, we need to beat him at his own game."
"Exactly," Sakazuki growled. "He wants to play admiral? Fine. Let's show him what real admirals can do."
As the meeting continued, strategies were debated and plans were made. But throughout it all, a sense of unease lingered. They were facing something new, something they hadn't been trained for. A pirate who thought like a Marine, who led like an admiral, but who operated without the constraints of their rigid hierarchy.
Sanjul Rahmuro had changed the game. And the Marines were scrambling to catch up.
XXX
Hours later, as the meeting finally adjourned, Sakazuki remained in the war room, staring at the maps and reports spread across the table. His mind raced with possibilities, with potential strategies and counter-strategies.
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter," he called, not looking up.
Vice Admiral Tsuru stepped in, her weathered face etched with concern. "Sakazuki," she said softly, "we need to talk about Rahmuro."
Sakazuki finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. "What about him?"
Tsuru sighed, settling into a chair across from him. "We're underestimating him. Even now, after everything we've seen, we're still not fully grasping the threat he poses."
"Explain," Sakazuki growled, his full attention now on the veteran strategist.
"It's not just his tactics or his leadership style that's concerning," Tsuru began. "It's the way he's reshaping the entire structure of the Big Mom Pirates. He's not just leading them - he's transforming them into something we've never seen before."
She spread out several reports, pointing to key passages. "Look at these numbers. In the past month alone, Rahmuro has overseen nine major engagements. Seven victories, two defeats. But even in defeat, he's minimizing losses, learning, adapting."
Sakazuki nodded grimly. "I'm aware of the statistics, Tsuru. What's your point?"
"My point," Tsuru continued, her voice gaining intensity, "is that we're not just facing a powerful individual. We're facing a new kind of pirate organization. One that's efficient, adaptable, and led by someone who understands our own tactics better than we do."
She paused, letting her words sink in. "Rahmuro isn't just a threat because of his personal abilities. He's a threat because he's creating a system that could outlast him. He's building something that could change the balance of power in the New World for generations to come."
Sakazuki's fists clenched, the temperature in the room rising noticeably. "So what do you suggest? How do we counter this?"
Tsuru's eyes met his, her gaze steady. "We need to start thinking long-term. Rahmuro isn't just planning for the next battle or the next month. He's planning for years, maybe decades ahead. We need to do the same."
She stood, pacing as she spoke. "We need to reassess everything. Our training programs, our command structure, even our basic tactics. Rahmuro's studying us, learning from us. We need to do the same."
Sakazuki was quiet for a long moment, considering her words. Finally, he nodded. "You're right. As much as I hate to admit it, we've been caught flat-footed. It's time we started playing catch-up."
He stood, his massive frame towering over the table. "I want you to head up a new task force, Tsuru. Your job is to get inside Rahmuro's head. Understand his strategies, predict his moves. And most importantly, find his weaknesses."
Tsuru nodded, a glimmer of her old fire in her eyes. "And what will you be doing?"
Sakazuki's gaze turned to the window, where the sun was setting over the vast expanse of the sea. "I'll be preparing for war. Real war, not just skirmishes. Because if Rahmuro succeeds in reshaping the Big Mom Pirates the way we think he will..."
"We'll be facing a threat unlike anything we've ever seen before," Tsuru finished.
As they stood there, the weight of the future pressing down upon them, neither could shake the feeling that they were standing on the precipice of a new era. An era shaped not by raw power or legendary figures, but by strategy, efficiency, and a pirate who thought like an admiral.
The game had changed. And the Marines were racing against time to adapt before it was too late.
XXX
It says a lot when even the Fleet Admiral "Absolute Justice" Sakazuki says "We need reforms, Momonga. Not just in how we operate, but in the world we're trying to protect. If we don't address the root causes that drive men like Rahmuro to piracy... Even if it's just to stop driving people like Rahmuro into the arms of our enemies. From places like Port Zafar and more. Outreach program? Offer job training or something for the poor? Socioeconomic factors in criminal behavior and funding mechanisms to ensure the deprived get something? Making higher expectations from the behaviors and laws of our member states? I don't fucking know. But we need to do something. I just won't accept a future where another suicidal teen joins a Yonko and becomes a Grand Admiral because we couldn't give him a better future. If we don't change something, we'll be fighting a whole army of Rahmuros in a few years. Men and women with nothing to lose and everything to gain by turning against us."
He trailed off, but the implication was clear. If they didn't change, they'd be fighting a losing battle against an enemy of their own creation.
Vice Admiral Tsuru, ever the pragmatist, spoke up. "What exactly are you proposing, Fleet Admiral? Specific programs, initiatives?"
"Raising expectations for our member states isn't going to be popular," Admiral Ryokugyu pointed out, his tone dubious. "A lot of the World Government's power comes from letting the kings and nobles do as they please."
"Then we'll just have to find a way to make it popular," Sakazuku growled. "Or at least make the alternative seem a lot worse. Because believe me, gentlemen, if we don't get ahead of this problem, we're going to be facing a lot more than just angry nobles. Because right now I'm look at Rahmuro's profile and seeing man who should be Rear Admiral right now on our side but isn't. I'm not expecting big changes. But I do expect us to work on this bit by bit to show we're listening to our people. We'll still hunt and kill pirates no doubt. But what about the people we're supposed to protect? Hell I could seen Rahmuro at the age of 42 sitting in my seat right now ... if the world was a bit better. So let's make it better so that the next Grand Admiral of a Yonko crew doesn't appear. I'm not talking full revolutionary. But let's look at their points and try to implement the quarter most easiest ones"
"Well I guess I want to say I'm proud of you Akainu. So would Sengoku. Never though I would say that" grinned Garp.
But Akainu wasn't having any of that. In fact he gets mad "Fuck Sengoku. The man was Fleet Admiral for over 14 years. And as much as he preached Reigning justice and wanted Aokiji to be in this seat. He may have whined about protecting the world and I'm not one to bitch about my predecessors but what the fuck did he really do? Sure I believe in absolute justice but at least I admit it. He took the most extreme course of actions every time and not look for alternatives. Is it part of the job? Sure. But your job is to also look for alternatives if you believe in a more morale way and then pick the extreme option when you must."
Akainu is bewildered by the fact that he's saying this. Him of all people "I can't believe it's coming down to me. Me! of all people to fix this world. But fuck it. if we're going to have to protect this world we better make it one worth protecting. I'm the Fleet Admiral. Maybe I should take a page out of Rahmuro's book. The buck stops with me. And I never expected to actually be here 25 years ago with this power. And you know what? I'm going to fucking use it"
The conference room fell into stunned silence following Akainu's outburst. The assembled flag officers exchanged bewildered glances, struggling to process what they had just heard from their Fleet Admiral.
Vice Admiral Momonga was the first to find his voice. "Sir, with all due respect... did you just say 'fuck Sengoku'? And criticize his tenure as Fleet Admiral?"
Akainu's scowl deepened. "You heard me, Momonga. I'm done dancing around the truth. Sengoku talked a big game about justice and protecting the world, but what did he actually accomplish in his 14 years as Fleet Admiral? Besides maintaining the status quo and letting problems fester until they exploded in our faces?"
Vice Admiral Dalmatian shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But sir, Sengoku oversaw numerous successful operations against pirates and revolutionaries. He kept the balance of power stable for over a decade."
"Stable?" Akainu scoffed. "Tell that to the victims of Enies Lobby. Or Marineford. Or any of the other catastrophes that happened on his watch because he was too focused on putting out fires instead of preventing them in the first place."
The room erupted into murmurs of disbelief and confusion. Vice Admiral Tsuru raised her hand, her weathered face creased with concern. "Sakazuki, I've known you for many years. This... this doesn't sound like you. What's brought on this sudden change of heart?"
Akainu's eyes blazed as he surveyed the room. "Rahmuro. That's what's changed. A kid with more potential than half the officers in this room, driven to piracy because his homeland was such a shithole that piracy seemed preferable to staying. And now he's kicking our asses up and down the New World, using our own tactics against us."
He slammed his fist on the table, causing several officers to flinch. "We're creating our own enemies, don't you see? We talk about justice, but what justice are we really serving when we turn a blind eye to the conditions that drive good people to piracy in the first place?"
A murmur of assent ran through the room, the officers beginning to wrap their heads around the magnitude of the challenge before them. It wasn't just about defeating Rahmuro or the Big Mom Pirates anymore. It was about fundamentally changing the way they operated, the way they interacted with the world.
Vice Admiral Momonga was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I'm sorry, sir, but could you repeat that? I think I might have had a stroke and hallucinated the last five minutes. And is that ... pride in Rahmuro?"
"Don't push it. We're not a social services. But yes. If Rahmuro was a marine ..." admits Akainu. He didn't say the words out loud but everyone knew what he meant 'he'd be proud of him'. And then to prove he's 100% serious Akainu spends 3 minutes writing what he thinks will be needed and has a list.
1. Increase social welfare budget by 50 billion Berries (5%) annually over 5 years.
2. Establish tax incentives for 20,000 businesses that provide 100-hour worker training programs.
3. Mandate minimum wage increase of 3% per year for 3 years, impacting 500 million workers.
4. Create 100 new public healthcare clinics in the 50 most impoverished regions, serving 10 million.
5. Allocate 100 billion Berries over 3 years for the construction of 5,000 km of rural roads and infrastructure.
6. Provide 50,000 educational scholarships annually, worth 1 million Berries each, for underprivileged youth.
7. Implement stricter anti-corruption measures, including mandatory financial audits for 1,000 high-level government officials.
8. Establish a 25 billion Berry small business loan program with 4% interest rates, benefiting 500,000 entrepreneurs.
9. Invest 30 billion Berries in sustainable agriculture initiatives for 100,000 small-scale farmers, increasing crop yields by 20%.
10. Require all 180 member states to dedicate 2% of their 1 trillion Berry GDP to poverty alleviation programs.
11. Hire 100,000 additonal marines in 10 years to enforce these rules
Tsuru is shocked by what Akainu just came up with in just 3 minutes "You do realize that if you pass all these reforms that will be the biggest set of reforms in at least 30 years for the world government? Right Fleet Admiral?"
The war room of Marine Headquarters was thick with tension as the highest-ranking officers gathered to process Fleet Admiral Sakazuki's unprecedented proposal. Vice Admiral Momonga paced back and forth, his usual composure shattered.
"I still can't believe what I'm hearing," he muttered. "Akainu - our Akainu - proposing social welfare programs and economic reforms? It's madness!"
Vice Admiral Dalmatian slammed his fist on the table. "It's more than madness - it's treason! We're meant to uphold justice, not coddle criminals and revolutionaries!"
"Is it truly treason to want to address the root causes that drive people to piracy?" Vice Admiral Tsuru's calm voice cut through the heated debate. "We've been fighting symptoms for too long. Perhaps it's time we treated the disease."
"The disease?" Dalmatian scoffed. "The disease is weakness, plain and simple. We give these people an inch, they'll take a mile. Before you know it, we'll have another Ohara on our hands!"
A heavy silence fell over the room at the mention of Ohara. It was Vice Admiral Smoker who finally broke it, his gravelly voice tinged with frustration.
"We can't keep doing things the same way and expect different results," he growled, cigars clenched between his teeth. "Look at Rahmuro. A kid with potential, driven to piracy because his homeland was a shithole. And now he's kicking our asses up and down the New World. How many more Rahmuros are we creating with our current methods?"
"Smoker's right," Vice Admiral Garp chimed in, his usual joviality replaced by a grim seriousness. "We've been so focused on punishing criminals that we've forgotten our duty to protect the innocent. If we don't change course, we'll be facing an army of desperate people with nothing to lose."
Momonga shook his head, still struggling to come to terms with the situation. "But these reforms... they're so drastic. A 50% increase in social welfare spending? Worker training programs? Healthcare clinics in impoverished regions? It's unprecedented!"
"Good," Tsuru said firmly. "Unprecedented times call for unprecedented measures. We can't keep clinging to old methods when the world is changing around us."
"But what about the World Nobles?" Dalmatian demanded. "They'll never stand for this. And the Five Elders-"
"To hell with the World Nobles!" Garp roared, slamming his fist on the table hard enough to crack the wood. "And to hell with the Five Elders too! We're supposed to serve the people, not a bunch of inbred tyrants!"
The room fell silent again, shocked by Garp's outburst. It was Tsuru who spoke next, her voice soft but steely.
"Garp's right, even if his phrasing leaves something to be desired," she said. "We've allowed ourselves to become tools of oppression rather than protectors of the people. It's time we remembered our true purpose."
As the debate raged on, in another part of Marine Headquarters, Admiral Fujitora sat in quiet contemplation. Though blind, he could sense the turmoil rippling through the base.
"Quite the stir you've caused, Sakazuki," he mused aloud. "I never thought I'd see the day when you, of all people, would propose such sweeping reforms."
Akainu grunted, his massive form silhouetted against the window. "Neither did I, Issho. But seeing Rahmuro's rise... it's forced me to confront some uncomfortable truths."
Fujitora nodded slowly. "The boy from Port Zafar who became a Grand Admiral for Big Mom. It's quite the tale."
"A tale that should never have been written," Akainu growled. "He should have been one of us, Issho. A Rear Admiral by now, at least. Instead, he's become our worst nightmare."
"Because his homeland left him no other choice," Fujitora finished. "It's a bitter pill to swallow, isn't it? Realizing that our own inaction, our willingness to turn a blind eye to injustice, has created the very enemies we now face."
Akainu's fists clenched at his sides, wisps of smoke rising from between his fingers. "It can't go on like this. We're hemorrhaging talent, driving good people into the arms of pirates and revolutionaries. If we don't change course..."
"We'll be fighting a war we can't win," Fujitora concluded. "Against an enemy of our own making."
XXX
Meanwhile, in the depths of Marine Headquarters, Vice Admiral Cancer sat alone in his office, a bottle of whiskey half-empty on his desk. His eyes were fixed on a wanted poster - Sanjul Rahmuro's face staring back at him, the bounty figure enough to make even seasoned pirates blanch.
"How did it come to this?" he muttered, pouring himself another drink with shaking hands. "How did we let it get this far?"
He thought back to that day on the docks, years ago. The desperation in Rahmuro's eyes as he spoke of the bleak future that awaited him in Port Zafar. The conviction in his voice when he declared that piracy was his only escape.
Cancer had let him go that day, moved by compassion or perhaps a moment of weakness. And now...
A knock at the door interrupted his brooding. "Enter," he called, his voice hoarse.
Vice Admiral Smoker stepped in, his face a mask of concern. "You look like shit, Cancer," he said bluntly.
Cancer chuckled humorlessly. "Feel like it too. Have you heard the latest? Akainu's gone mad. Proposing reforms, talking about social welfare and economic initiatives. It's like the world's turned upside down."
Smoker grunted, settling into a chair across from Cancer. "Maybe it needs to. We can't keep doing things the same way and expect different results."
"But this?" Cancer gestured wildly, nearly knocking over his glass. "It's... it's too much. Too fast. The World Government will never allow it."
"Maybe it's time we stopped worrying about what the World Government will allow," Smoker said quietly. "And started thinking about what's right."
Cancer stared at him, disbelief etched on his face. "Who are you, and what have you done with Smoker? Since when do you care about anything beyond catching pirates?"
Smoker's eyes narrowed. "Since I realized we're creating more pirates than we're catching. Since I saw good people driven to desperation because we failed to protect them. Since Rahmuro showed us just how badly we've screwed up."
He leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "Think about it, Cancer. How many more Rahmuros are out there? How many talented, driven people are we losing because we're too rigid, too focused on punishment instead of prevention?"
Cancer was quiet for a long moment, turning Smoker's words over in his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper repeating what he told but again to reassure himself. "I let him go, you know. Years ago, on some backwater island. He told me... he told me if he didn't leave his hometown, he'd be dead before he turned twenty."
Smoker nodded slowly. "And now he's one of the most dangerous pirates in the New World. All because his homeland was so oppressive that piracy seemed like the better option."
"What does that say about us?" Cancer asked, his voice cracking. "About the world we're supposed to be protecting?"
"It says we need to change," Smoker replied firmly. "And maybe, just maybe, Akainu's finally realized that too."
XXX
As the two Vice Admirals sat in contemplative silence, across the base, a group of younger officers had gathered in the mess hall, their conversation hushed but animated.
"I can't believe it," a fresh-faced ensign whispered. "Akainu proposing reforms? It's like... like Garp giving up rice crackers!"
"Keep your voice down," his friend hissed. "Do you want to get court-martialed?"
"For what? Discussing the Fleet Admiral's own proposals?"
"You know how things work around here. Today's reform could be tomorrow's treason."
A older lieutenant commander joined their table, her face etched with worry. "Have you seen the details of these proposals? Worker training programs, healthcare clinics in impoverished regions... it's like something out of a revolutionary manifesto!"
"Maybe that's not such a bad thing," another officer mused. "I mean, look at what happened with Rahmuro. If his homeland hadn't been such a hellhole, he might be sitting in this very mess hall with us."
The ensign's eyes widened. "You really think so? But he's a pirate!"
"He's a pirate because we left him no other choice," the lieutenant commander said quietly. "How many more talented people are we losing because we're too rigid, too unwilling to address the root causes of piracy?"
XXX
As the younger officers debated, their voices a mix of excitement and apprehension, in another part of the base, Admiral Kizaru lounged in his office, a bemused expression on his face.
"Ooh, Sakazuki," he drawled to himself. "You've really stirred up a hornet's nest this time, haven't you? Social welfare programs, economic reforms... what's next? Hugs for pirates?"
A knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Come in, come in," he called lazily.
Vice Admiral Momonga entered, his face a mask of confusion and frustration. "Admiral Kizaru, I need your advice. This situation with Akainu's proposals... I don't know what to think anymore."
Kizaru raised an eyebrow. "Ooh, heavy stuff. Not really my forte, you know? I prefer to leave the thinking to others."
Momonga's eye twitched slightly. "Sir, with all due respect, this is serious. The entire structure of the Marines could change if these reforms go through. Don't you have any opinions on the matter?"
Kizaru stretched languidly. "Opinions? Sure, I've got plenty. But do they matter? Sakazuki's the big boss now. If he wants to shake things up, who are we to argue?"
"But sir," Momonga pressed, "these reforms... they go against everything we've stood for. Absolute Justice-"
"Has solved some problems and created a few new ones. A balance," Kizaru finished, his tone suddenly sharp. "Come on, Momonga. You're smarter than this. Look at Rahmuro. Look at what the world turned him into."
Momonga blinked, taken aback by Kizaru's sudden seriousness. "I... I never thought I'd hear you say something like that, sir."
Kizaru shrugged, his lazy demeanor returning. "Hey, even I can see which way the wind's blowing. Maybe it's time we tried something new, you know? Couldn't hurt."
XXX
As Momonga left, still reeling from the conversation, in the deepest levels of Marine Headquarters, the Gorosei gathered in emergency session. Their faces were grim, their voices low and urgent.
"This is unprecedented," one of them growled. "Sakazuki proposing reforms? Social welfare programs? It's madness!"
"Madness or not, we can't ignore it," another countered. "The situation with the Big Mom Pirates, this Rahmuro character... it's forcing us to confront some uncomfortable truths."
"Truths?" the first scoffed. "What truths? That we should coddle criminals and revolutionaries?"
"That our current methods are creating more enemies than they're defeating," a third Gorosei member said quietly. "Think about it. Rahmuro was a nobody from a backwater island. And now he's one of the most dangerous pirates in the New World. All because his homeland was so oppressive that piracy seemed like the better option."
A heavy silence fell over the room as they contemplated this. Finally, the eldest of them spoke, his voice heavy with the weight of centuries.
"Perhaps... perhaps it's time we considered a new approach. The world is changing, whether we like it or not. If we don't adapt..."
"We'll be swept away," the second finished. "But these reforms... they're so drastic. The World Nobles will never stand for it."
"Then perhaps it's time we reminded the World Nobles of their place," the eldest said, his eyes glinting dangerously. "We serve the world, not a handful of inbred tyrants."
XXX
As the Gorosei debated, their voices rising and falling in the secluded chamber, across the world, on the deck of the Ghostly Gale, Sanjul Rahmuro stood at the railing, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The sound of a Den Den Mushi ringing made him straighten, his posture unconsciously shifting to that of a seasoned naval commander.
"Report," he said crisply as soon as the connection was established.
"Sir," a voice crackled through the speaker, "we've received word from our sources in Marine Headquarters. You're... you're not going to believe this."
Sanjul's eyebrow raised slightly. "Try me."
As the spy relayed the information about Akainu's proposed reforms, Sanjul's expression remained impassive. But inside, his mind was racing, analyzing the implications, calculating the potential outcomes.
When the report was finished, he was silent for a long moment. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with a mixture of respect and wariness.
"Well played, Sakazuki," he murmured. "Well played indeed."
Galette approached, concern evident in her eyes. "What is it? What's happened?"
Sanjul turned to her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "It seems, my dear, that we've shaken the very foundations of the World Government. Akainu is proposing reforms - sweeping changes that could reshape the balance of power in the world."
Galette's eyes widened. "But... that's good, isn't it? Isn't that what you've been working towards?"
Sanjul's smile faded slightly. "It's a step in the right direction. But it also means our job just got a lot harder. If the Marines start addressing the root causes of piracy..."
"We'll have more competition for hearts and minds," Galette finished, understanding dawning in her eyes.
Sanjul nodded. "Exactly. The game is changing, my love. And we need to be ready to adapt."
As they stood there, the wind whipping around them, both felt the weight of the future pressing down upon them. The world was changing, faster than anyone could have predicted. And they were at the epicenter of that change.
The question now was: where would it all lead? And who would be left standing when the dust settled?
Only time would tell. But one thing was certain - nothing would ever be the same again. The age of the Yonko was ending, replaced by something new and as yet undefined. A new era was dawning, shaped by the unlikeliest of catalysts - a boy from Zafar who had once seen no future beyond suicide or execution.
The irony wasn't lost on Sanjul. He had set out to escape a hopeless situation, to find some measure of freedom in a world that seemed determined to crush him. And in doing so, he had inadvertently set in motion events that could reshape that very world.
As the Ghostly Gale sailed on towards an uncertain future, Sanjul Rahmuro allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection. The boy from Zafar was long gone, replaced by a man who could make the most powerful figures in the world sit up and take notice. It wasn't the life he had imagined for himself, but it was a life with purpose, with meaning.
And perhaps, just perhaps, it was a life that could make a difference. Not just for himself, but for all those who, like him, had once felt trapped and hopeless. If his actions could spark change, could force even someone like Akainu to reconsider their methods...
Well, that was a victory worth fighting for. No matter the cost.
XXX
The first rays of dawn crept through the porthole of the captain's quarters, casting a soft glow on the sleeping forms of Sanjul and Galette. As the light gently roused him from slumber, Sanjul's eyes fluttered open, a momentary panic gripping his chest as he braced himself for the familiar onslaught of nightmares.
But to his surprise, the visions that had haunted him for so long were absent. In their place was a sense of peace, a tranquility that had once seemed impossibly out of reach.
Beside him, Galette stirred, her sleepy eyes meeting his with a smile. "Good morning," she murmured, her hand reaching out to caress his cheek. "How did you sleep?"
Sanjul took a moment to consider the question, marveling at the realization that for the first time in longer than he could remember, he had slept soundly through the night. "Better," he said softly, leaning into her touch. "Much better."
Galette's smile widened, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. She knew, perhaps better than anyone, the demons that had plagued Sanjul's dreams. The memories of his past failures, the guilt and shame that had driven him to the brink of despair.
But in the 20 months since their marriage, something had changed. Slowly, gradually, the nightmares that had once been a constant presence had begun to fade. They still came, from time to time, but their hold on Sanjul had weakened, their power diminished by the love and support of the woman beside him.
"I'm glad," Galette said, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You deserve peace, my love. You've carried those burdens for far too long."
Sanjul felt a lump form in his throat, his heart swelling with gratitude for the incredible woman who had become his rock, his anchor in the storm. "I couldn't have done it without you," he whispered, pulling her close. "You've given me so much, Galette. More than I ever thought possible."
They held each other for a long moment, basking in the quiet intimacy of the morning. For Sanjul, it was a reminder of just how far he had come, of the healing that had taken place in the sacred space of their shared bed.
As they finally rose to face the day, Sanjul couldn't help but marvel at the lightness he felt, the sense of hope that had begun to take root in his heart. It was a feeling he had never dared to dream of, back in those dark days in Port Zafar.
But here, with Galette by his side, anything seemed possible.
XXX
On the deck of the Ghostly Gale, the crew bustled about their daily duties, their faces etched with a newfound sense of purpose and determination. In the two months since Sanjul's promotion to Grand Admiral, the Spectral Pirates had undergone a remarkable transformation.
Gone was the palpable tension that had once hung over the ship, the sense of uncertainty and unease that had plagued them in the early days of their alliance with the Big Mom Pirates. In its place was a well-oiled machine, a crew that moved with the precision and efficiency of a Marine unit.
But it wasn't just their military prowess that had improved. As Marlowe watched Sanjul emerge from his quarters, his arm wrapped around Galette's waist, he couldn't help but notice the change in his captain's demeanor.
Gone were the dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look that had once been a constant presence. In their place was a man who stood tall and proud, his shoulders unburdened by the weight of his past.
"Captain on deck!" Marlowe called out, a grin spreading across his weathered face as the crew snapped to attention.
Sanjul acknowledged them with a nod, his eyes sweeping over the assembled pirates with a mix of pride and gratitude. "At ease," he said, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the waves. "We have a lot to accomplish today, but I want to take a moment to thank you all. Your hard work and dedication have not gone unnoticed."
As the crew returned to their duties, their faces glowing with the praise of their captain, Marlowe fell into step beside Sanjul and Galette.
"You're looking well, Captain," he said, his tone slightly teasing. "I take it the nightmares are getting better?"
Sanjul chuckled, a sound that still caught Marlowe off guard sometimes. It was a far cry from the haunted, bitter laughter he had once been accustomed to.
"They are," Sanjul confirmed, his eyes softening as he glanced at Galette. "I have a lot to be thankful for."
Marlowe nodded, a sense of warmth spreading through his chest. He had been there, all those years ago, when Sanjul had been at his lowest. When the failures of his past had threatened to consume him, to drag him down into an abyss of despair.
To see him now, standing tall and proud, his demons finally at bay... it was a sight that Marlowe had never dared to hope for.
"I'm glad," he said simply, clapping Sanjul on the shoulder. "You deserve happiness, Captain. More than anyone I know."
As they made their way to the bridge, ready to face whatever challenges the day might bring, Marlowe couldn't help but marvel at the transformation that had taken place. Not just in Sanjul, but in the entire crew.
They were a family now, bound together by something stronger than blood or duty. They were bound by the love and loyalty they felt for the man who had given them a purpose, a reason to keep fighting.
And as long as they had that, Marlowe knew, there was nothing they couldn't accomplish.
XXX
In the grand halls of Whole Cake Chateau, the Charlotte siblings gathered for their weekly meeting, their faces a mix of curiosity and anticipation. At the head of the table, Big Mom herself sat, her eyes fixed on the man who had become the talk of Totto Land.
"Sanjul," she boomed, her voice echoing off the candy-coated walls. "I hear great things about your progress as Grand Admiral. The territories are flourishing, the tributes are flowing... you've done well, son-in-law."
Sanjul inclined his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, Mama," he said, his tone respectful but firm. "But the credit belongs to the entire crew. They've worked tirelessly to make our vision a reality."
Beside him, Galette beamed with pride, her hand resting lightly on his arm. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about the bond they shared.
"And what a vision it is," Perospero drawled, his candy cane tapping against the table. "Who would have thought that a simple pirate alliance could become something so... formidable?"
The other siblings murmured their agreement, their eyes fixed on Sanjul with a mix of admiration and calculation. They had all seen the reports, the accounts of the Spectral Pirates' growing influence and power.
But it wasn't just the military might that had caught their attention. It was the change in Sanjul himself, the transformation that had taken place since his marriage to their sister.
"I must say, brother-in-law," Smoothie said, her voice low and melodious, "you seem... different. More at peace, somehow."
Sanjul met her gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "I am," he said simply. "I have been blessed with a partner who understands me, who supports me in ways I never thought possible. It has made all the difference."
Katakuri, who had been silent until now, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing behind his scarf. "The nightmares," he said, his voice a low rumble. "They've lessened, haven't they?"
Sanjul nodded, a shadow passing over his face. "They have," he confirmed. "Not completely, but... enough. Enough to let me breathe again."
The room fell silent for a moment, each sibling lost in their own thoughts. They had all heard the rumors, the whispers of the demons that had haunted Sanjul's dreams. The failures of his past, the guilt and shame that had nearly driven him to the brink.
To see him now, standing tall and proud, his eyes clear and focused... it was a testament to the power of love, of the healing that could take place when two hearts found each other in the darkness.
"Well," Big Mom said finally, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife, "it seems that my little girl has worked her magic once again. Galette, my dear, you have done well."
Galette smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you, Mama," she said softly. "But it was Sanjul who did the hard work. I just... I just loved him through it."
As the meeting continued, the plans for the future of the Big Mom Pirates taking shape, Sanjul couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the turn his life had taken. From a failed scholar in Port Zafar to the Grand Admiral of one of the most powerful crews in the New World... it was a journey he had never dared to dream of.
But here he was, surrounded by a family that had accepted him, a wife who loved him, and a crew that would follow him to the ends of the earth.
And for the first time in longer than he could remember, Sanjul felt a sense of peace wash over him, a certainty that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he would face them with the strength and love of those who stood beside him.
It was a feeling he would cherish, a reminder of just how far he had come... and how far he still had to go.
XXX
In a dimly lit office in Marine Headquarters, Vice Admiral Tsuru sat hunched over a stack of intelligence reports, her brow furrowed in concentration. For weeks, she had been pouring over every scrap of information they had on Sanjul Rahmuro, trying to piece together a picture of the man who had become their most formidable adversary.
But as she read the latest batch of intercepted communications, a new detail caught her eye, one that made her sit up straight in her chair.
"Nightmares," she murmured, her finger tracing the words on the page. "Rahmuro's nightmares have decreased in frequency and intensity since his marriage to Charlotte Galette."
It was a small detail, easily overlooked amidst the reports of territorial conquests and strategic maneuverings. But to Tsuru, who had spent a lifetime studying the minds of pirates and criminals, it spoke volumes.
She thought back to the early days of their intelligence gathering on Rahmuro, when scattered reports had indicated a man plagued by guilt and self-doubt. A man haunted by the failures of his past, by the weight of the responsibilities he carried.
But now... now those reports had dwindled, replaced by accounts of a man who stood tall and proud, his eyes clear and his mind focused.
"Love," Tsuru whispered, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "It seems even the most notorious pirate is not immune to its power."
She leaned back in her chair, her mind racing with the implications of this new information. For so long, they had been trying to find a weakness in Rahmuro's armor, a chink that they could exploit.
But perhaps, she realized, they had been looking in the wrong place. Perhaps the key to defeating Rahmuro lay not in his military might or strategic brilliance... but in the love he shared with his wife.
It was a dangerous thought, one that went against every instinct she had honed over her long career. Pirates were not supposed to be capable of such deep, abiding love. They were supposed to be selfish, ruthless, driven only by their own desires.
But Rahmuro... Rahmuro was different. He had found something that few pirates ever did - a love that transcended the bounds of their brutal world, a love that had the power to heal even the deepest of wounds.
And that, Tsuru realized, made him all the more dangerous. For a man with something to fight for, something to protect... that was a man who would stop at nothing to keep what he held dear.
She thought of Sanjul, of the nightmares that had once plagued him. How many other pirates, she wondered, carried such burdens? How many of them had never known the healing touch of love, the comfort of a partner who understood and accepted them, flaws and all?
It was a sobering thought, one that made her question everything she had ever believed about the nature of piracy. For if even a man like Sanjul Rahmuro could find redemption in the arms of a woman... then perhaps there was hope for them all.
Tsuru shook her head, a rueful chuckle escaping her lips. "You've really done it this time, haven't you, Rahmuro?" she muttered, turning back to her stack of reports. "Found the one thing that even the Marines can't take away from you."
And as she delved back into her work, a newfound sense of respect blooming in her heart for the pirate who had become her most worthy adversary, Tsuru couldn't help but wonder... if a man like Sanjul could find love in this cruel, unforgiving world...
Then what else, indeed, might be possible?
XXX
The sun was setting over the horizon as Sanjul and Galette stood on the deck of the Ghostly Gale, their hands entwined as they watched the sky turn from orange to pink to a deep, velvety purple. It was a ritual they had begun shortly after their wedding, a moment of quiet contemplation amidst the chaos of their lives.
But tonight, as Sanjul stood with his wife by his side, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the journey that had brought them here. From the moment they had first met, 21 months ago, his life had been transformed in ways he had never dared to imagine.
He thought back to those early days, when the nightmares had still held him in their grip, when the failures of his past had threatened to consume him. How lost he had felt, how alone... until Galette had come into his life like a beacon in the darkness.
She had seen him, truly seen him, in a way that no one else ever had. She had looked past the scars and the demons, past the guilt and the shame, and found the man beneath. The man who had always been there, waiting for someone to believe in him.
And believe in him she had. With every touch, every whispered word of comfort, every moment of quiet understanding, Galette had shown him that he was worthy of love, of happiness, of a future that was more than just pain and regret.
Slowly, gradually, the nightmares had begun to fade. They still came, from time to time, but their hold on him had weakened, their power diminished by the love and support of the woman beside him.
And now, two months into his tenure as Grand Admiral, Sanjul could scarcely recognize the man he had once been. The man who had been so consumed by his own failures, so trapped in the darkness of his own mind.
He was not perfect, he knew. The scars of his past would always be a part of him, a reminder of the long and winding road he had traveled. But with Galette by his side, he knew that he could face whatever challenges lay ahead, that he could build a future that was more than he had ever dared to dream of.
"What are you thinking about?" Galette asked softly, her head resting on his shoulder.
Sanjul smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You," he said simply. "Us. Everything that's happened in the last 21 months. It's... it's a lot to take in."
Galette nodded, her eyes shining with understanding. "It is," she agreed. "But we've come so far, my love. You've come so far. And I am so, so proud of you."
Sanjul felt a lump form in his throat, his heart swelling with emotion. "I couldn't have done it without you," he said, his voice rough with feeling. "You've given me... everything. Everything I thought I could never have."
Galette turned to face him, her hands coming up to cup his face. "And you've given me the same," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "You've shown me what it means to love, to truly love. And I will always, always be grateful for that."
As they held each other on the deck of the ship that had become their home, Sanjul felt a sense of peace wash over him, a certainty that no matter what the future held, they would face it together.
For they had each other, and the love they shared. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
XXX
And so, as the Ghostly Gale sailed on into the night, its crew united in their love and loyalty for the man who had become their guiding light, the world of One Piece continued to turn. Marines and pirates, lovers and enemies, all caught up in the endless dance of ambition and desire.
But for Sanjul and Galette, in that moment, there was only the two of them. Two hearts that had found each other in the darkness, two souls that had been broken and reforged in the crucible of their love.
It was a love that would be tested, as all loves are. But one they plan to last a long time.