That night.
Late evening.
Elite Officer Training Camp, Administration Building, Chief Instructor's Office.
A soft, flickering glow from an oil lamp pushed back the darkness inside the room. Zéphyr sat behind a tiworn desk, pen in hand, hunched over a mountain of paperwork. The lamp's light stretched his silhouette across the office wall—tall, firm, immovable.
With each page he turned, glimpses of cadet files could be seen, each one detailing the records of the newest recruits in the training camp.
A green glass bottle of liquor sat beside him. The cork was already off.
After a long while, Zéphyr finally closed the last folder and let out a deep breath, his stern expression lting into one of rare satisfaction.
This year's batch of cadets was exceptional. Perhaps the best he'd seen. Better even than the first or second cohorts. So good it was hard to believe.
He looked down at the nas—nas that glead like gold—and felt a swell of pride and anticipation rise within him.
Lifting a cigar to his lips, he lit it and took a slow, satisfying draw. Then reached for the bottle.
Knock knock knock...
A sharp rapping ca from the door.
Zéphyr stiffened, hurriedly stubbing out the cigar. Before he could stash the bottle, the door opened—and Gion walked in, carrying a stack of files.
"Zéphyr-sensei..."
She paused, her sharp nose twitching. The sll of smoke lingered in the air. Her eyes swept over Zéphyr, whose posture had frozen mid-movent.
"Didn't the doctor tell you to quit drinking and smoking? This isn't good for your condition."
Due to a staffing shortage after the camp's official launch, Vice Admiral Tsuru had suggested Gion act as Zéphyr's temporary assistant, helping with administrative matters.
Caught red-handed, Zéphyr offered a sheepish grin.
"Ah, Gion, today's a good day, so I was just celebrating a little—"
"You said the sa thing yesterday."
"Er... yesterday was a good day too."
"..."
Gion sighed.
She knew how stubborn Zéphyr was. No advice ever reached him.
"It's fine, it's fine... hahaha!"
Zéphyr raised his bottle labeled "Sherry," proudly declaring,
"My body's not that fragile. This is the strongest stuff around. If I don't drink a little each day, sothing feels off."
"That's called addiction," Gion said coolly.
Zéphyr: "..."
Defeated, he set the bottle down and glared.
"Alright, what did you co here for?"
Gion walked over and set her files on the desk.
"This is the finalized reconstruction plan and budget for the destroyed teaching building."
Zéphyr glanced over it and was imdiately overwheld by the numbers and details.
"Just handle it however you see fit," he waved.
Then, as if just rembering, he looked at her seriously.
"I trust you completely, Gion!"
You just don't want to deal with it, do you... Gion twitched slightly.
"There's a problem with the budget. Headquarters hasn't allocated any funds for this."
Zéphyr raised a brow.
"Didn't Darren say he'd compensate?"
"Yes," Gion answered automatically.
Zéphyr laughed.
"Then it's settled. Sengoku told that kid's loaded."
Gion's eye twitched. "Then I'll take care of it. Good night, Zéphyr-sensei."
"Mm, get so rest. Wait—"
He stopped her at the door.
She turned back, confused.
"You spent ti in the North Blue. Compared to others, you should understand Darren better. Tell —what kind of man is he?"
Gion froze.
What kind of man was Darren?
She thought of many things: the Governor's wife's rage; confronting Darren over corruption; his flattery toward the Celestial Dragons; the sobbing father in the hospital; the news of the Celestial Dragon's death; and the wild, fearless brawl with Byrnndi World...
"Darren is... a complicated man," she finally said.
"On the surface, he seems like a wicked, irredeemable bastard. But deep down—"
"Deep down?" Zéphyr leaned forward.
Gion's voice chilled.
"Also a wicked, irredeemable bastard."
Zéphyr: "..."
"But..."
She sighed.
"His thods are wrong, but sohow, things always work out in his hands. Difficult problems—he makes them disappear like nothing. Under his rule, the North Blue found peace. Civilian life improved dramatically."
"I see..." Zéphyr murmured, thoughtful. "And what about his view of justice?"
Gion paused for a long ti.
Then shook her head.
"I don't know, Zéphyr-sensei."
I truly don't know what kind of man he is.
...
...
"Commodore Darren, this will be your assigned residence during your ti at the camp."
Standing before a modest, aging building, a young Marine Lieutenant, Junior Grade respectfully addressed Darren.
It wasn't luxurious. The paint was chipped, the walls weathered, and ivy crawled up the corners. But it was clean. A forty-square-ter garden sat out back.
This was a standard single-family house, the kind allocated to officers of commander rank and above.
"Much appreciated," Darren nodded, smiling.
He wasn't picky about where he lived. If he wanted, he could buy a mansion in Marineford. But since the headquarters was providing one, that made things easier.
"Are the other cadets housed nearby as well?" he asked.
"Yes," the young lieutenant said. "Aside from Commander Tokikake and Commander Gion, who already have personal hos, the rest of the cadets have been placed in this district for easier supervision."
"So even moved in with family over a month ago."
Darren nodded.
"Thank you for your help."
He casually handed over a thick wad of bills.
"That's not necessary, Commodore Darren," the young officer stamred, face flushing.
"Take it," Darren said lightly. "I don't like people refusing kindness. And I need a favor."
He placed the bills into the officer's hands.
"Tomorrow morning, buy a fresh fruit basket. Deliver it here. Can you do that?"
He didn't wait for a reply. Just patted the man's shoulder and walked inside.
The junior officer stared after him, then looked down at what amounted to over half a year's salary.
Blushing, he snapped to attention and saluted hard.
"Yes sir! I will complete the task, Commodore Darren!"
Darren waved a hand over his shoulder.
"Rest well."
---
To be continued...
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