As the door swung shut, the starlight slipping through the gap faded across Darren's frozen face and disappeared.
A soft click sounded as the latch caught.
He even heard the despairing scrape of Zephyr turning the key.
…
The office sank back into dim quiet.
The oil lamp on the desk cast a wavering glow across Gion's aloof, breathtaking face. Crimson lips, long lashes—beauty with a dangerous edge. The chill in her eyes betrayed her intent.
A cold dread tightened Darren's throat. He shrank back despite himself, mouth suddenly dry.
"It's clear that someone as important as Vice Admiral Darren must be incredibly busy…" Gion folded her arms, the motion only emphasizing her already dramatic curves, and gave a cool, cutting smile.
"Ahem, Gion… this is all a misunderstanding." Darren, far too preoccupied to admire the view, stammered as his hair prickled. "It's all Tokikake's fault!"
Finding a convenient scapegoat, his voice steadied with manufactured conviction.
"That miser Tokikake said he'd treat me to a late-night snack. I ran into Yamakaji and the others—we started drinking—and one thing led to another…"
Gion's smile only sharpened at the flimsy excuse.
"Can't you come up with a better lie?"
"Tokikake? Treating anyone?"
Darren froze. His mouth opened, closed, then stayed shut. Damn that Tokikake… he really is a tightwad.
Seeing him speechless, Gion bit her lower lip; her voice softened, vulnerable for a breath.
"So… you've been back two days…"
Darren's heart gave a thump. He let out a theatrical sigh.
"I wanted to see you, Gion… but you know how crazy work's been."
"It's been nonstop since I got back. I'm a special instructor for the new Training Camp—I barely had time to eat today."
The oldest excuse in the book.
Gion fell silent.
"How's Sister Toki?" she asked suddenly, out of nowhere.
"Hmm, not bad," Darren blurted without thinking—then immediately regretted it. The murder returned to Gion's eyes.
She's gotten slyder since last time…
Before he could react, she stepped forward and straddled him.
"Gah!"
Pain tore through his already-abused backside as her weight drove him down. Darren gasped; his eyes rolled, the corner of his eye twitching.
"Wait… Gion…" he ground out, face contorted.
"No," she snapped, fierce and trembling, eyes bright with unshed tears and stubborn pride.
When her fingers found his uniform buttons, cold sweat sprang across his brow. He could barely walk as it was—if this happened here…
"Gion, calm down! This… this is Zephyr-sensei's office…"
She froze, a flush flaring across her cheeks. It vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by that same unyielding defiance.
"I don't care."
---
"I wonder what that brat Darren did to set Gion off…"
Zephyr stepped out of the teaching building and lit a cigar with a relieved little smile.
He knew Gion's temperament—odd, stubborn, fiercely proud. He'd watched her grow up; scolding never came easy. Better to let her have her way.
"Well, it's none of my business," he muttered, shaking his head and dropping the thought.
No sooner had he cleared the steps than a heart-wrenching wail rose from the office.
Zephyr: ...
His eye twitched. His feet quickened of their own accord.
"Poor Darren…"
---
So Darren spent a month at Headquarters—sweet and brutal in equal measure.
Days and nights blurred.
The month passed quickly.
Aside from the occasional Den Den Mushi call to Momonga for updates on the North Blue Fleet, he split his time between guiding the fourth class at the Academy and shuttling between Toki and Gion.
Training with Magellan came with side effects, too; bouts of diarrhea had Darren staggering home, one hand on the wall.
---
"I wonder how Magellan's doing…"
Zephyr arrived at a restricted sector of the Academy, a deserted zone ringed with caution tape. Every twenty meters, warning signs read TOXIC SUBSTANCE.
"Zephyr-sensei, this protective gear's from the Marine Special Science Group," a young ensign said, handing over a fresh hazmat suit and gas mask.
"Hmm. You may go," Zephyr nodded, taking the gear.
The ensign didn't linger. He threw a wary glance at the withered vegetation beyond the line, then hurried off.
Suited up, Zephyr lifted the tape and stepped inside.
The airborne toxins wouldn't truly threaten someone of his caliber, but he had no wish to endure the aftermath—and his doctor had warned him to avoid such gases because of his asthma.
He walked on.
Near Magellan's quarters, the purple haze thickened.
"Looks like Darren's been honing the Venom-Venom Fruit," Zephyr murmured, a satisfied smirk tugging at his mouth. "The brat's got talent after all…"
Aside from deplorable habits—greed and lechery—Zephyr could find little else to fault. Exceptional looks, prodigious ability, a keen mind, and a sure sense of advance and retreat. Strip away the 'Marine Disgrace' gossip and he'd be a perfect student.
Lost in thought, Zephyr pushed through the pale violet fog into a small courtyard. He opened the gate, crossed the yard, and rapped on the inner door.
No answer.
He frowned and pushed it open.
What he saw made his jaw drop.
The room had been extensively modified, fitted with ventilation in every corner.
At that moment, every unit cut off. The door swung wide and a dense, pitch-black cloud of poison surged out, swallowing Zephyr whole; he couldn't see his own hand.
But that wasn't the shock.
On the left, Magellan stood with bloodshot eyes and veins raised beneath his skin, straining as if to force something out. The toxic gas roared from him in a constant stream.
On the right…
Young Darren sat with nostrils and mouth flared, stomach bulging like a drum. He was frenziedly gulping down the fumes pouring off Magellan like a deranged vacuum cleaner.
Zephyr recoiled two steps on instinct.
"Zephyr-sensei?" Darren noticed him at last, gave a lazy wave, and kept inhaling like a starving beast. "Quick—close the door! Don't let all the good stuff escape!"
Zephyr: ???
To be continued...