BOOM! CRASH!
A massive explosion erupted in the lower levels of the Marine Headquarters fortress. The shockwave was so violent that even Sengoku, sitting in his office at the very top of the building, felt the floor tremble.
Marine sentries on duty rushed over in a panic, only to find Zephyr standing there in his purple suit. Before him, a massive hole had been punched through the corridor wall; the jagged edges of the masonry were spiderwebbed with cracks. Zephyr's expression was dark—so dark it was practically dripping ink—and the Armant Haki still crackled faintly around his fists. The sheer, suffocating pressure radiating from him caused the incoming soldiers to nearly soil themselves.
At the sound of footsteps, Zephyr turned his head, his grim glare so intense that the group of soldiers nearly fainted.
"What are you looking at?! Have you never seen a teacher disciplining his student?!"
"Y-yes! We're sorry!" The soldiers scrambled to salute like terrified quail, then turned and bolted, not daring to look back.
Joke's on them. If they kept hovering around, they'd definitely end up as target practice. As for the giant hole in the wall, that was a problem for the higher-ups to deal with. Marine Headquarters took property damage very seriously—the lightest punishnt was a month of scrubbing latrines—but considering the culprit's identity, this was well beyond the patrol team's pay grade.
WHOOSH!
A figure appeared beside Zephyr. The newcor was clutching a plastic bag, munching on a rice cracker while peering through the hole in the wall. "Yo! Zephyr, look, that little brat got away!"
From the hole, one could see a figure in mid-air, adjusting their posture with a flip before tapping the air and dashing toward the recruit barracks. After learning Geppo (Moon Walk), Loya's aerial speed had beco terrifying. He combined the acceleration of Soru with the two-stage thrust of Geppo—and, as if that weren't enough, he could manifest platforms of ice in mid-air to reset his montum. The result was a burst of speed that defied physics.
Almost the mont Garp finished speaking, Loya had vanished into the complex of buildings.
Garp didn't get the reaction he wanted. He asked, bewildered, "Eh? Zephyr, why aren't you chasing him? That kid just ran off!"
"Shut up!" Zephyr roared, his face turning an angry shade of green.
Chase him? With what? On the ground or at low altitude, Zephyr's speed was superior. But in the high air, Zephyr couldn't catch Loya. Furthermore, Loya could manifest dragon scales to grant himself short bursts of true flight—an agility Zephyr couldn't hope to match. Because he had been bullied by Kuzan and Mole using Soru so many tis, Loya had poured all his effort into mastering that single technique, and his speed was no longer what it once was.
And besides… if I go chasing after him, I'm just giving you a show to watch. Do I look like a fool? Zephyr shot a side-glance at Garp, snorted, and turned away.
Behind him, Garp blinked blankly, then smiled and took another bite of his rice cracker. "This old guy... he's actually shy!"
Garp didn't know exactly what had happened, but he understood the expression on Zephyr's face. Hidden beneath that anger was a sense of fulfillnt—a wish being granted. Having lost his own family years ago, this was the first ti Zephyr had shown such a look in their presence. Though he treated the Marines as his ho and the Elite Camp mbers as his own children, he had never revealed such complex emotions toward any of them.
If his son hadn't died, Garp mused, munching on his cracker, he would probably be about Loya's age now.
And if my son, Dragon, hadn't rebelled and left the Marines... I suppose I'd be the sa way.
Marineford, Recruit Cafeteria.
Ms. S slamd a tray down in front of Loya with a look of utter disgust. The tray was piled high with food, the aroma wafting through the air.
"You brat, can't you just eat in the Elite Camp? Do you realize you've eaten through my stock for tomorrow?!"
"Ma... what does it matter?" Loya's cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel's; he sucked a whole grilled fish down in seconds. He spat out the bones and flashed a fawning smile. "Besides, the food in the Elite Camp is too focused on 'nutritional balance.' It tastes like nothing. My mouth was getting bored to death! It doesn't hold a candle to your cooking, Ms. S!"
"Oh, by the way... got any more lobster?"
Ms. S felt a vein throb in her temple. Her eyes twitched, and her mouth moved as if to curse, but no sound ca out. She sighed, turned around, and headed back into the kitchen to keep cooking.
"Eat up and get out! Honestly, it's my bad luck to be saddled with a bottomless pit like you."
"Yes, ma'am!" Loya replied, speeding up his chewing.
Just then, his Den Den Mushi rang. Brr-brr-brr...
Zephyr had insisted he keep it on him. Because of his training, Loya needed to stay in constant contact with his teacher.
Loya wiped his hands on a napkin and pulled out the snail. Click.
"Hello? Is this Loya?"
The pale-yellow snail instantly turned deathly white, its large eyes perfectly mimicking the caller's exhausted yet combat-hungry gaze. Loya froze, then broke into a wide grin. "Bibb Hansa! I thought you'd forgotten our duel."
"Cough-cough... cough-cough-cough!"
A fit of coughing ca through the line, and Loya could even hear the sound of blood hitting the floor. Before Hansa could answer, Loya beat him to it: "Hey, hey... are you sure you want to fight like this? People will die, you know!"
Hansa had been sickly since childhood. Like Simon, he was fragile, but unlike the well-tended Simon, Hansa had been born into poverty. His strength was bought at the cost of his lifespan. To challenge Loya, he had spent the last month pushing his body to the absolute brink—a sight that had made Zephyr shake his head in despair.
Loya wasn't in a position to judge Hansa's choices. Hansa didn't carry the weight of a blood feud like Tony, the drive to prove himself like Minnie, or the burden of family honor like Simon. He simply wanted to be strong, to leave a bold mark on his short life.
Short life. That was the truth. Hansa's ti was running out. Last year, Zephyr had brought in the best doctors, who told him that if Hansa stopped training and stopped fighting, he might live until forty. Zephyr had tried to offer him a desk job at HQ, but Hansa had refused. Now, he only had a few years left, if that.
Facing Loya's concern, Hansa laughed. "It's fine... I don't want to lie in a hospital bed and die in pain. If I can die in battle, that is the greatest honor I could hope for."
"Tsk... troubleso guy." Loya frowned, but said no more.
"Then... tomorrow at two in the afternoon. I'll be waiting in the arena."
Hansa hung up. The snail's color slowly returned to a pale yellow before it slumped over into a deep sleep. Loya stared at the snail in silence, reached into a basket, and pulled out a decorative piece of lettuce to wake it up.
"Here, eat up. Last ti I fed you was three days ago, right?"
As he watched the snail tear off small bits of the lettuce, Loya fell into deep thought.
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