Onepiece: I'm Gojo Satoru

"Good job, kid. You didn't disappoint me," Sengoku, the Fleet Admiral, greeted as the group disembarked from the warship.

The news of the battle's outcome had already reached him, and although it was the result he expected, he couldn't hide his excitement. A new admiral—the fourth pillar of the Navy—was on the rise under his leadership. Sengoku could already envision the Navy reclaiming its dominance and challenging the Four Emperors of the New World on equal footing.

"Honestly, it wasn't much of a challenge," Satoru said with a smirk. "The World Government didn't exactly send their best."

"Don't sell yourself short," Zefa interjected, his booming voice filled with pride. "I've heard how you humiliated that CP0 captain. If only I'd been there to see his face!"

Karp chuckled beside him. "Too bad we didn't have popcorn for the show."

Though Zefa and Garp kept their composure, both were secretly overjoyed. They had little love for CP0 and the arrogance they often carried, and hearing about Satoru's decisive victory was immensely satisfying.

Sengoku cleared his throat, steering the conversation back. "Now, let's talk about your title as an admiral. Have you thought of one?"

The question caught Satoru off guard. A title, he mused, needed to sound powerful, something that inspired fear and respect in equal measure.

"How about...Black Hand?" Zefa suggested with a straight face.

Satoru blinked, incredulous. "Black Hand? Really?"

Zefa shrugged. "It matches my 'Black Wrist.' Seems fitting."

Garp laughed, slapping Zefa on the back. "Come on, we're trying to make him intimidating, not a punchline!"

Lieutenant General Tsuru rolled her eyes. "Enough joking. This is serious. You two aren't helping."

Garp grumbled under his breath but didn't argue.

"How about him? It matches his striking blue eyes," the ever-lazy Yellow Monkey suggested, recalling the chilling fear he'd felt when he first locked eyes with Satoru during a previous battle.

"Him?" Satoru frowned, his mind flashing to the idea of a fly's compound eyes. "Pass."

The group descended into silence, the other admirals—Red Dog and Blue Pheasant—offering no help, clearly uninterested in brainstorming.

Finally, Satoru crossed his arms and announced, "Fine. Call me the Invincible General. It's accurate, right?"

Garp and Zefa immediately stepped back, as if disowning him on the spot. "We don't know this guy," Karp muttered loudly, feigning embarrassment.

"No way," Sengoku said firmly, his face darkening. "That's not happening."

"Then I give up," Satoru said, throwing his hands up. "You decide."

Sengoku turned to Tsuru, exchanging a glance that clearly said, *Help us out here.*

Tsuru sighed. "How about *White Devil*? It captures his fearsome aura and strength."

Sengoku considered it, but then shook his head. "Too aggressive. We need something more majestic."

After a moment of thought, Tsuru's eyes lit up. "What about *White Dragon*?"

The room stilled, the weight of the suggestion settling in.

"White Dragon..." Sengoku repeated, nodding slowly. "Yes, it's perfect. It embodies power, majesty, and authority."

Zefa and Garp also nodded in agreement, though the three admirals standing nearby looked less than thrilled. After all, their titles represented animals like a dog, a bird, and a monkey. A dragon? The gap in prestige was undeniable.

"What do you think, Satoru?" Sengoku asked.

Satoru shrugged. "White Dragon's fine. Better than *Black Hand* anyway."

Sengoku's face lit up with satisfaction. "Then it's settled! From this day forward, you are Admiral White Dragon!"

Satoru couldn't suppress his grin. Regardless of the specifics, the title of admiral alone was enough to fill him with pride. He had claimed a place among the strongest warriors in the Navy—and the world.