"He's so cool…"
"His style is totally different from the first three…"
"Is that Vice Admiral Darren?"
"I wish I could be his adjutant… to be by his side day and night…"
As the cadets stared at the near-perfect Marine Vice Admiral before them, the same thought flooded a hundred minds at once. The boys' eyes shone with awe; the girls flushed, breath turning warm and shallow. A few stood dazed, hearts practically sparkling in their eyes.
That commanding presence, that towering build, those clean, sharp features—and a temperament that somehow blended arrogant ease with warmth—radiated an unrivaled sense of safety. He looked exactly like the instructor they'd always imagined.
Placed against the three who had come before him, Darren's figure loomed even larger.
First impressions rule the world, no matter which world it is.
"Vice Admiral Darren… so handsome…" Even Magellan, cocooned in shadow at the far edge, couldn't help craning his neck, staring blankly as he murmured.
Sakazuki took the scene in and frowned, eyes lingering on Darren. Borsalino's smile stayed unreadable, as if he couldn't be bothered to care. Kuzan, meanwhile, was more excited than the rookies, trembling with enthusiasm. "Just as I'd expect from my destined rival," he exclaimed. "To win them over the instant he appears… how cool is that?!"
Watching the rising tide of adoration, Zephyr's mouth twitched. But remembering Darren was his student, he couldn't stop himself from stepping forward and squaring his shoulders. "It seems you're all eager for the coming training," he announced, chest subtly puffed with pride. "I'm delighted to see such enthusiasm."
Darren, unruffled by the cadets' reaction, smiled warmly. "For the duration of the Training Camp, I'll serve as your special instructor for Physique."
His gaze swept the ranks—including a quick glance for Magellan in the distance. "Speaking from experience, I can assure you this: your time here will become your most cherished memories."
"As your washed-up senior, I'll make time for you whenever I can. I'll help you grow stronger—faster."
"Before we start, I want to thank Zephyr-sensei for his unwavering guidance and encouragement through the years."
He turned to Zephyr with a small smile and a respectful nod.
Zephyr froze, barely swallowing a grin as he stood a little straighter.
"Though Zephyr-sensei is short-tempered, eccentric, brutally strict, incredibly stingy, and never treats…"
Zephyr: ???
Darren finished with a laugh. "He truly is a great teacher."
Zephyr: …
You could have led with that, brat. The rest wasn't necessary at all.
The good-natured jab broke the tension at once; laughter rolled through the ranks.
Not only devastatingly strong and unfairly handsome—he's witty, too.
A few cadets glanced at Sakazuki and the others, quickly looked away, then turned back to Darren with renewed fervor.
"Ahem. Enough speeches. On to instructor selection." Zephyr cut Darren off with a sharp cough.
If I let him keep going, he thought darkly, I'll be out of a job before noon.
He raised his voice. "Consider your future path carefully. Once decided, stand before the instructor you wish to follow."
The four special instructors—Sakazuki, Borsalino, Kuzan, and Darren—took their places in a line, presence alone enough to quiet a field.
The system was simple, like college electives. Zephyr, as chief instructor, would handle foundational training. The special instructors provided the focused tracks; students chose the course that fit their path.
Zephyr had barely finished when the entire field surged as one, cadets scrambling to queue up before Darren. Sand billowed under the stampede.
Zephyr: …
He stared at Darren's impossibly long line, then glanced at the other stations.
Sakazuki: deserted.
Kuzan: deserted.
Zephyr's face darkened another shade.
"That brat Borsalino probably doesn't have anyone either… Huh?"
He paused. Someone stood awkwardly in front of Borsalino.
Vergo?
---
The fourth Elite Officer Training Camp at Headquarters was officially underway.
On the distant grandstand, Darren lounged with one leg crossed over the other, cigar clamped between his teeth, watching the chaos below with a wash of nostalgia.
"Run, you lazy brats! Move it!"
"Shuzo! Built like a tank and moving like a turtle!"
"T-Bone! Too skinny! Eat! You look like a walking mummy!"
"And you, Doll! This is physical training—no using your Longleg Tribe gifts!"
Zephyr-sensei's thunder rolled across the grounds, punctuated by the ping of training rounds sparking off the earth and the rookies' miserable wails.
"Zephyr-sensei hasn't changed," Kuzan said, sauntering over to sit beside him. He offered a bottle of sherry.
Darren took it, smiling. "Since when did you start liking this?"
Kuzan chuckled. "It's the most Haki-infused drink there is—and it's his favorite."
He watched the purple-haired chief instructor in the distance, mowing through the rookies' excuses like a machine gun. The usual theatrical bravado fell away; in its place was quiet respect.
"Because of him, I grew to like it too," he said softly.
He lifted the bottle. "I want to be as cool as he is."
Darren paused, chuckled, clinked the glass, and took a long pull.
"I'm heading out. You'll be busy soon," Kuzan said with a wink. He rose, brushed off his pants, and wandered away.
Darren watched him go, thoughtful. A year since we graduated the Elite Officer Training Camp… he's grown up a bit.
Mostly.
Then, sensing a presence, Darren turned sharply.
Half-hidden at the edge of the grandstand, a timid figure tried to spy with half his face peeking out—his massive black wings thoroughly ruining the attempt.
"Magellan? Come on over…" Darren blinked, then smiled and waved him closer.
To be continued...