At This Moment—

  The Navy Headquarters, Marineford.

  Just back from the Red Line, Fleet Admiral Hammons William leaned wearily against his office chair, closed his eyes, and massaged his brow. In a single day, he felt as though he had aged ten years.

  "Knock, knock!"

  "Fleet Admiral William, the prisoner... Rear Admiral Tsuru has been brought in!"

  Outside the open door, two Navy officers escorted an elderly figure—frail, heavily wrinkled, and bound in iron cuffs.

  "Leave us, and close the door," William instructed, keeping his eyes shut as he gestured for the officers to depart.

  "Yes, sir!" The two sailnced sympathetically at the elderly woman in handcuffs. But after saluting, they left and closed the door behind them. It was hard to believe that this frail, aged woman had once been revered as the Navy's "Flower of Justice."

  "Fleet Admiral William, has my punishment been decided?" Tsuru's voice was calm, showiher fear nor joy. From the moment she was taken into custody uight security, she had prepared herself for the worst.

  Though her spirit had grown cold, she felt some bitter relief; stripped of her youth, she no longer had to worry about the humiliation the Celestial Dragons might have inflicted on her. If they demanded vengeance, her only escape would be to "take her own life" in disgrace.

  "The desdants of the Creator are noble and untouchable," William said, opening his eyes to look at the once-celebrated Navy beauty. "No matter the circumstances, one must never cross a Celestial Dragon. By disabling Saint Fenix, you itted an unfivable crime."

  Tsuru smiled bitterly, resigned. She didn't tremble, only feeling a dull, weary emptiness. She had already lost her future, and her life was nearing its end.

  "I'm sorry; I did everything I could…" William sighed, his voice heavy with regret. "The Navy has suffered a devastating blow—G-5 and G-1 bases in the New World were attacked. Even Admiral Hark was killed, his fleet almost entirely wiped out, and our headquarters' treasure vault was looted by the Fallen Angel Pirates."

  "Not a single one of the captured Celestial Dragons was rescued, and not a single one of El's crew was captured. Because of the Navy's failure, I've lost all influehin the Wover."

  He tinued, "All I could secure for you was a dignified death. At the very least, you won't be tortured by the Celestial Dragons."

  Despite his fierce arguments, the Celestial Dragons still demasuru's punishment. William hoped to provide her with a dignified end, so she might "die by her own hand" rather than eorture. If her remains could be buried in the Navy's cemetery, it might ease the pain of allies like Sengoku and Garp, who were still rec in the naval hospital, sparing them plete disillusio with the Navy.

  "There is... one more thing I must ask of you," William tinued. For a brief moment, he, a Fleet Admiral, showed a glimmer of hesitation and disfort. Sengoku and Garp were crucial to the Navy's future, men of formidable potential, and if it weren't for Tsuru's role in their lives, he would have been far less troubled by this decision.

  Tsuru, known as the "Strategist," read William's iions easily. Though disappointed, she still valued Sengoku and Garp and didn't want them to abandon their futures or, worse, turn pirate in her defense. Looking at William, who once spoke of unyielding justice, she felt nothing but hollow bitterness.

  "Fleet Admiral William, may I have half an hour?" Tsuru asked, her voice steady, resigned. "I'll write a letter to Sengoku and Garp."

  "Of course, you may have two hours," he replied with a nod. He inteo review her final letter himself, hoping he could, in time, sway Garp and Sengoku to uand, for the sake of justice, peace, and the tless people of this world.

  Iy, ideals and the real world often flicted, and justice was rarely bd white; sometimes it fell into shades of gray.

  "I'm sorry. Because this matter involves the Celestial Dragons, even I am powerless," William said, standing up and bowing deeply before her, guilt clear in his voice. "For the future of the Navy, I ask this of you."

  "I uand," Tsuru replied, expressionless, inwardly unmoved. She was far too wise to be deceived by talk of justice. She had no real choice.

  "I'll send a cup of poison ter, so you may pass without pain," William informed her, adding, "If you have any st wishes, let me know. I'll do what I to fulfill them."

  "If possible, scatter my ashes at sea," Tsuru replied without hesitation.

  The true sorrow for Tsuru y in her realization that, if William had truly trusted her, they could have devised a better pn—perhaps even infiltrating pirate crews or the Fallen Angel Pirates as a spy. But William, knowing her intelligence, couldn't take that risk. He feared she would harbor reseoward the gover a.

  In the end, the Fleet Admiral didn't dare take the gamble. Nor did he want to.

  Bleam