Seeing Magellan huddled in the shadows, too afraid to approach, Zephyr opened his mouth, hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. You can listen from there."
He knew the boy's situation all too well.
A Paramecia-type Venom-Venom Fruit user—a Poison Man—Magellan exhaled toxic gas and secreted highly venomous fluids. Those afflicted didn't die at once; they suffered long, agonizingly, unless treated with antidotes he himself formulated.
The boy had been "recommended" by a Grand Line branch. Recommendation or not, Zephyr suspected that if Headquarters refused him, that branch might well mutiny.
Because Magellan's entire body was steeped in toxin, his presence was a hazard. Zephyr had arranged a special isolation ward at the Academy as his dormitory, staffed by personnel in full hazmat gear. Supplies were delivered to him directly. They'd even installed an oversized toilet and rebuilt the drainage.
As for the venom's potency—Zephyr had experienced it firsthand. Once was enough.
Armament Haki could blunt Devil Fruit abilities, yes, but a man still had to breathe…
Thankfully, Magellan understood. He avoided crowds, kept to himself, and that seclusion had fed a withdrawn, gloomy temperament.
"Mmm-hmm," Magellan murmured, forcing a wan smile. His stomach rumbled, and he shrank deeper into shade.
Zephyr: ...
"Alright," Zephyr said, pulling himself together. "I'll be brief."
He cleared his throat, voice turning grave. "I will remain the primary instructor for this camp's core curriculum. Several specialized courses will be taught by specially appointed instructors."
"Throughout the term, you may choose which of them to study under. The four cadets who demonstrate the greatest excellence will become adjutant to these Special Instructors—sailing with them to crush evil!"
Ambition flared across the ranks.
Doll's sapphire eyes lit, her long lashes fluttering. Even the perpetually despondent Magellan showed a spark of interest.
Zephyr took in their faces, satisfied.
"Now, let's welcome the four Special Instructors for the Fourth Class of the Elite Officer Training Camp!"
"First… Vice Admiral Sakazuki!"
A tall, iron-backed figure with a chilling presence strode onto the parade ground. Each step was heavy and measured, precise to the millimeter.
Sakazuki took his place beside Zephyr, expression flat as he adjusted his cap.
A tide of killing intent rolled off him—mountains of corpses, a sea of blood. The green recruits felt their throats seize; breaths came shallow, faces blanched.
What a terrifying presence…
Why does he look at us like we're already dead?
He could snap and wipe us out at any moment…
They swallowed hard and avoided his eyes.
Zephyr's lip twitched. "Sakazuki," he said, exasperation creeping in, "lighten up. Give them a simple introduction."
Sakazuki's gaze swept the trembling cadets. His voice was rough as gravel. "I'm Sakazuki. I'll teach development and countermeasures for Devil Fruit abilities. That's all you need to know."
"As for me… understand this: Justice is forged through blood."
"Marines obey orders. Even here, you're already Marines. If any of you disobey orders…" His face didn't change. "I will show no mercy. I will kill you without hesitation."
"If you cower on the battlefield—kill you."
"If you parley with pirates—kill you."
He made no effort to rein in the murderous pressure. Then, remembering Zephyr's warning not to be "too serious," he forced a stiff, unnatural smile.
Hiss! Two synchronized steps backward rippled through the lines.
Zephyr: …
You should've skipped the smile. That's worse.
"Next: Vice Admiral Kuzan!" Zephyr growled through his teeth.
Before he could finish, another towering figure bounded forward, eagerness practically glowing. He struck what he clearly thought was a stylish pose.
"Hahahaha!! I'm Kuzan! See this coat? Just got promoted! Hahaha—awesome, right?!" Hands on hips, chest out, he beamed. "I'll be teaching close-quarters combat!"
He threw a few snappy punches, eyes shining. "Choose me! Let's have knock-down, drag-out brawls! Let's burn our youth and passion to the limit—burn like a raging fire! That's my Justice!"
He flashed a thumbs-up and a dazzling grin, teeth gleaming in the sun.
Silence followed.
Zephyr: ...
The recruits: ...
Everyone stood frozen, lips twitching as they fought to keep straight faces. Overhead, crows cawed in circles.
"Next!" Zephyr barked, face twisting like he'd swallowed something foul. "Vice Admiral Borsalino!"
Countless golden photons gathered and knit themselves into a man at his side.
Borsalino, in comically oversized frog-eye sunglasses, stroked his stubble with a lewd little smile, amused by the cadets' petrified looks.
"I'm Borsalino," he drawled. "I'll be teaching swordsmanship… As for my sense of justice, well, that's probably not too important, is it?"
He scratched his head in mock puzzlement. "But… you all look so terrified."
Thud!
The entire formation toppled backward in unison.
Zephyr's face went black as charcoal. He clutched at his chest.
Why did I pick these brats as instructors?! he howled inwardly, blood pressure spiking, veins standing out red.
The cadets were worse—minds blank, eyes glazed.
Staring at the three utterly different, utterly bizarre "monsters" before them, they felt like a herd of alpacas had stampeded through their skulls.
The monsters of Marine Headquarters…
The shining stars of a new generation of Justice…
"Th-That's it?!"
An underworld boss.
A hot-blooded idiot.
A lecherous old man.
These three are our instructors?!
Impossible. Absolutely not. This had to be a bad dream.
Regret flickered through the ranks—until, as one, they turned to stare at Zephyr.
Wait… weren't all three trained by Zephyr-sensei?
Feeling their stares, Zephyr's weathered face went crimson, raw as liver. Every shred of dignity felt stripped away. In that moment, he would've happily disowned all three.
A lifetime's honor—shattered in an instant.
"Last but not least—Vice Admiral Darren!" Zephyr roared, barely suppressing the urge to thrash his three "star pupils." Clutching his chest, he shouted with strained intensity.
Young Darren, it's on you now!
He prayed, sweating through his collar.
Silence fell again.
Even after the first three had rattled the earth, the name Rogers Darren hit like thunder. The man who felled the legendary Golden Lion Shiki—what kind of presence would he bring? Curiosity burned in every eye.
Zephyr saw their eager faces and felt a fresh bead of sweat.
Then steady, powerful footsteps sounded across the grounds.
All heads turned—and froze. Doll's cheeks flushed as her eyes lit.
A tall, lean, commanding figure strode into the courtyard. Unruly black hair framed deep, star-dark eyes. A sharp nose, blade-straight brows, thin lips quirking in a cool, careless smirk.
His immaculate uniform sculpted a physique built for violence. Charisma rolled off him—wild, unrestrained, unmistakably male.
Hands tucked in his pockets, he bit down on a cigar; smoke curled around him. Behind him, a snow-white cloak thundered in the desert wind.
Majestic. Composed. Absolute.
Every gaze—men and women alike—locked onto him, unable to look away.
They tracked the Vice Admiral's measured approach until he stood before them.
A bright, sunlit smile touched his lips.
"Greetings, everyone. I'm your senior, Rogers Darren."
For a heartbeat, the world held.
Then—
"I choose Instructor Darren!"
"I choose Instructor Darren!"
"Me too!"
The parade ground exploded in overlapping shouts, faces flushed with excitement.
To be continued...