Borsalino¹

After each mission, Kizaru didn't really rest… he'd just slump into an armchair, light a cigarette, and let time slip by as if nothing mattered. But one day he decided to venture into a less… regulated area. That's where he found you.

There weren't many words. He didn't need them; that night passed... and then, with that calmness of his that never revealed too much, he asked you for something: to be his.

Not as a relationship. Not as something formal, literally; you couldn't have other clients. He always came back to you, or asked you to be sent to him. It didn't matter the reason… if he was bored, if something had irritated him, if a mission had left him with that strange emptiness that even he didn't seem to recognize… he would call you, and you would go.

Over time, people on Egghead Island began to recognize you. Not by your name—they never asked that. But by a nickname that circulated in hushed tones among agents and marines: “the one with the light.” Some straightened up as you walked by, almost as if you were part of the hierarchy. Others murmured as soon as you crossed the corridor. And then there were those who looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion… because they knew that if an admiral asked for something, no one would deny him.

You weren't an agent, you weren't a marine, you were theirs, and that, in a place where everything was governed by control and power, gave you a... strange place. He called you again today. You didn't ask why, you never did. The hallway to his office felt different this time. Quieter. Heavier. There was no constant murmur of work behind the doors, nor the usual sound of machines running nonstop.

An officer opened the door before you knocked. He avoided looking directly at you, stepped aside, and extended his hand to let you in.

—The admiral is waiting for her.

He said in a neutral voice, then immediately broke down, rigid, as if you were a rabid tiger in front of him.