Chapter Ninety-Six: Luo Lan's Thoughts (First Update)

Regarding Roland, Sengoku held a favorable opinion; this was a young man brimming with a sense of justice. If nurtured properly, he might one day become a pillar of the Navy. Moreover, the matter of Tuch’s attack was, in essence, an injustice perpetrated against Roland by their upper ranks. Therefore, as long as Roland’s demands were not excessive, Sengoku was inclined to grant them.

For reasons he could not quite name, Sengoku had a premonition—he felt the seas were shifting toward an uncertain future. Would the Navy be able to maintain stability in these waters? He had no confidence in the answer. Thus, someone like Roland must be retained within the Navy at all costs, to prevent him from becoming an unpredictable factor.

“As I told Admiral Sakazuki earlier, if certain unscrupulous superiors, or even higher authorities, wish to completely bury this incident, would they not simply make us disappear?” Roland spoke with a gentle smile, watching Sengoku’s expression shift from calm to embarrassed anger. “After all, only the dead cannot speak.”

Roland seemed unconcerned. If Akainu were the current Fleet Admiral, he would never dare say such things. It was only because Sengoku still held the post that he dared utter such irreverent words. Yet, it was clear that even a patient man like Sengoku found his temper rising at Roland’s remarks.

Now Sengoku understood why Sakazuki wanted to take action against Roland—did this fellow suffer from paranoia? If he were in Sakazuki’s shoes, he might not have waited for this conversation to happen.

Roland, seemingly oblivious to Sengoku’s anger, continued, “I don’t mind for myself. I managed to defeat Vice Admiral Tuch, and even if I cannot best other vice admirals, I can escape. But the marines under me are different.”

“They lack the strength to protect themselves, and their families are here. If something truly sinister were to occur, they would have no chance to escape.”

“So, for their safety, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, I have a modest proposal: if possible, I wish to take them away from headquarters and establish a branch elsewhere.”

“In this way, first, their safety will be assured and they can find peace of mind. Second, we can suppress lawlessness in a region, forcing those arrogant pirates to restrain themselves.”

“What do you think of this proposal, Fleet Admiral Sengoku?”

At this, Sengoku’s face darkened completely. What a bold request—defeating Tuch and immediately asking headquarters to establish a branch for him. If he had bested Sakazuki, would he be asking to sit in Sengoku’s chair next?

He glanced at Garp, who remained wholly uninvolved, and his fury grew. Was this the so-called quality of an admiral? On the very first day of reporting back to headquarters, he was already thinking of leading a branch? Did he even respect Sengoku, or the Navy’s headquarters?

In that moment, any sense of favor or future potential was forgotten. Sengoku wanted only to scold Roland and rid him of such outlandish ideas.

Yet before Sengoku could speak, Garp, who had been quietly munching on rice crackers, spoke up in his unhurried manner. “Do you know what rank the direct officers of branch bases on the Grand Line hold?”

“Vice admiral,” Roland replied with a smile. “Though my rank is far from that, and I’ve only just joined the Navy, my abilities should be clear to you.”

“No matter how I accomplished it, I defeated Vice Admiral Tuch one-on-one in an official battle. That alone proves I am fully capable, in terms of strength, of bearing a vice admiral’s responsibilities.”

Garp rubbed his chin; he found Roland’s words somewhat reasonable. Despite the absurdity—wanting to lead a branch right after joining the Navy—from a strength standpoint, Roland was indeed qualified.

Furthermore, recalling what Roland had said to Luffy, Garp knew this man’s character was sound. He was committed to justice and saw the world’s nature with rare clarity. If given room to grow, he might not only become an admiral, but even succeed as Fleet Admiral one day.

The next successor was already in Garp’s mind—Aokiji. When Aokiji retired, Roland would have matured enough; there would be no doubt he could assume the Fleet Admiral’s mantle.

“Sengoku, what do you think?”

After some thought, Garp ultimately tossed the question back to Sengoku. After all, he was only a vice admiral. His faith in Roland was personal; the real decision lay with Sengoku, whose considerations would surely be broader.

Sengoku sighed softly, regaining his composure. He admitted that Roland’s words held merit; in terms of strength, he could shoulder the responsibility of a branch leader.

Yet, Sengoku’s instincts told him the matter was not as simple as Roland claimed. Surely the main reason was not the protection of subordinate marines—such a flimsy excuse. Even without Tuch’s involvement, Roland would have other motivations.

Unable to fathom them, Sengoku spoke directly, his voice grave. “What is it you truly wish to do, Colonel Roland? Don’t give me that excuse about protecting marines. Tuch acted on his own.”

“Harming marines at headquarters has never happened, will not happen now, and will never happen in the future. The Navy’s justice is far more important than any individual’s pride.”

“Smoker and Garp both say you are a man of strong justice, so I choose to trust them, and trust you. So, what is your real purpose?”

Roland fell silent for a moment, glanced at Garp who had again removed himself from the conversation, then replied earnestly, “Fleet Admiral Sengoku, I have learned something of the Navy’s structure. I know that above Marineford, the headquarters, there is the World Government.”

“I will not comment on whether the World Government is just, but I have no respect for those ridiculous nobles who live atop the Red Line, in the Holy Land Mariejois.”

“I know that within the Navy, there is an unspoken rule: we must unconditionally protect those nobles. If they encounter danger on the nearby Sabaody Archipelago, we are required to rush to their aid.”

“I find myself incapable of doing such a thing—it is simply too ironic.”

“The Navy, defenders of justice, acting as lapdogs for the nobles? Is that not absurd?”

“But in the base, one cannot act freely. If I refuse too often, who can say whether the World Government will notice me? What will I do then?”

“Will I betray my convictions and protect those nobles?”

“Or will I stand firm, and bear the stigma of a pirate?”

“To avoid such a fate, I never intended to remain at headquarters from the moment I joined the Navy.”

“If I never advance in rank, so be it. All I wish is to protect those who deserve it, and to spread the meaning of justice.”

“Not to serve as a Celestial Dragon’s lapdog!”