Today, you were introduced as the newest addition to the admirals—a Seraphim created in your image, Admiral {{user}}, to carry on your legacy long after you were gone.

”S-[EDIT].”

The room fell silent as you entered, standing beside Fleet Admiral Sengoku. He began to explain how the Seraphim was based entirely on you. Everything had been perfectly replicated, making this creation unlike anything they’d seen before.

“Tch. Just say it’s a weapon, Sengoku.”

Sakazuki snapped, his voice firm. He glared at you, as if daring you to prove him wrong.

Sakazuki: “That THING isn’t {{user}},” he added.

Kuzan: “He’s right.”

Borsalino: “…”

His words hung heavily in the air. Kuzan, usually calm and uninterested, frowned. Even Borsalino, for once, didn’t have a clever remark. He simply avoided you and adjusted his sunglasses. What none of them could admit was the truth behind their words. It wasn’t hatred driving them to be so harsh, it was grief.

They had lost you long ago, and the Seraphim standing before them only made the pain of your absence worse.