In the dim candlelight of an abandoned church deep within the shadows of the New World, the atmosphere was thick with malice and despair. Dust hung in the air like a forgotten curse, and rotting pews lined the sanctuary, echoing the decay of the place and the wickedness it now harbored. A group cloaked in black sat in a ring around a cracked marble altar, their identities hidden behind ornate masks etched with the symbol of a single, unblinking eye. These were the remnants of the Eye—what was left after Haru and Naomi's brutal purge of their ranks.
At the center of the circle stood a tall, wiry man draped in flowing black robes. His face was half-hidden beneath a silver mask, save for his mouth, twisted in a smile that reeked of madness and cruelty. This was Gale—the true leader of the Eye and the cult's most dangerous zealot. His presence alone silenced the room, save for the faint whistle of wind through the shattered stained glass behind him.
"We have bled," Gale said, his voice deep and sharp like a dagger slicing through flesh. "Our sanctuary defiled, our brethren slaughtered… but from blood, we are reborn."
One of the masked followers stepped forward. "My lord Gale… we've uncovered the identities of the ones responsible."
"Oh?" Gale's grin widened, eyes glinting behind the mask.
The follower lowered his hood. It was Lance, one of the Eye's most skilled infiltrators. "Two Marine officers—Captain Haru and Commodore Naomi. They infiltrated our ranks, tore down our holy sanctum… and they live."
A low murmur rippled through the circle, but Gale raised a single finger, and silence fell.
"Haru…" he whispered, tasting the name like wine. "And Naomi… Yes. Their blood will be the ink for my gospel."
Gale stepped closer to the altar, lifting a ceremonial dagger and dragging it slowly across his palm. The blood dripped onto the stone, sizzling like acid. "Find out everything about them. Their routes, their duties… their weaknesses. When the moment is right, I shall tear the light from their eyes and cast them into the abyss. Only then will I see the path clearly…"
His followers bowed low, and the whispers of death swirled in the air as the meeting dissolved into darkness.
—
Back at G-1 Base, the sun climbed lazily over the horizon, casting warm gold over the white stone of the Marine headquarters. In stark contrast to the chilling events unfolding elsewhere, Haru and Naomi were basking in the morning calm after surviving the sheer hell of Garp's training. Four days of backbreaking labor, ruthless sparring, and endless mental strain had left them sore, bruised, and utterly exhausted—but stronger in ways neither had imagined.
Naomi sat on a bench near the barracks, her arm wrapped around Haru's shoulder as they shared a quiet breakfast of rice balls and miso soup. Haru winced slightly as he stretched, his muscles still stiff from Garp's infamous "boulder toss" exercise.
"You know," Naomi teased with a smirk, "you scream like a little girl when he throws boulders your way."
"I wasn't screaming," Haru said, huffing. "That was a strategic battle cry."
"Oh right," she grinned. "Strategic. Just like how you strategically passed out after dodging one."
Haru gave her a sideways glare, but his lips curled into a smile. "You're lucky I love you."
Naomi laughed softly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I know."
Just then, a messenger approached at a jog. "Captain Haru, Commodore Naomi—Vice Admiral Tsuru requests your presence in her office immediately."
Their smiles faded as the weight of duty returned. Both stood at once, exchanging a brief nod before heading to the towering structure at the center of the base. Upon reaching Tsuru's office, they were surprised to find not just the Vice Admiral, but also Gion… and Garp.
Tsuru leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin. "I trust you've both recovered enough?"
Naomi gave a small bow. "Yes, Vice Admiral."
Tsuru gestured toward Garp, who was munching loudly on rice crackers beside her desk. "Good. Because your next mission begins now. You two will accompany Garp to an unofficial meeting."
Haru blinked. "Meeting with who?"
"Whitebeard," Tsuru said simply.
For a moment, silence hung in the room. Naomi's eyes widened slightly. Haru's breath caught in his throat.
"Whitebeard? As in the Whitebeard?" he said, stunned.
Garp waved a cracker at them. "Yup. Old man Edward Newgate himself. We're gonna have a little chat, off the record. Sengoku wants a temperature check. I want a drink. You're along for the ride."
Naomi and Haru exchanged a quick look. Excitement and nervousness danced in their eyes.
Gion crossed her arms. "This is a rare opportunity. Learn all you can. And remember, you're not there to fight. You're there to observe."
Garp stood, cracking his knuckles with a thunderous pop. "Meet me at the harbor in an hour. Don't be late, or I'll make you swim all the way there!"
As he stormed out, humming a tune, Haru turned to Naomi, who was visibly trying to maintain her composure.
"We're really going to meet Whitebeard…" he muttered.
"Yup," Naomi said, grabbing his hand. "And I think this time, we're going to be the ones learning something."
As the two departed for the harbor, the winds of fate began to stir again—and in the shadows of the New World, Gale sharpened his blade, his sights set on vengeance.