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... d with ashes and scattered debris. Sengoku sat quietly by a dwindling fire, idly stirring the embers with a wooden stick. His gaze lingered on the flames, eyes unfocused, lost in thought.

Beside him, Rosinante slept soundly, curled against his side, his breathing soft and steady.

Across the fire, Garp sat on an overturned log with a swollen black eye. He looked at his old friend for a long time, then asked, "What's wrong, Sengoku?"

The admiral lifted his head slowly. A st ...

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