What is this supposed to be?
Onigumo and Momonga were puzzled at first, but their faces soon showed they were moved.
In the distance, five ships — more than six thousand slaves — had gathered at their sterns, then all fell to their knees and, facing the Thunder Hawk, repeatedly bowed in deep, unending kowtows.
"Vice Admiral, listen."
Their voices were carried on the wind and mixed with sobs, so what they said wasn't entirely clear.
"Goodbye, Vice Admir—"
"Your…great…kindness will never be…forgotten…"
"Thank you—"
Some wailed loudly, some waved frantically in reluctant farewell, and some, hidden from view, repeatedly struck their foreheads to the deck dozens of times before finally rising, weeping.
Nao didn't look up. He simply tilted his head and listened quietly for a while, then smiled with a soft sigh and whispered a few words into the communicator at his side.
A short while later, the Thunder Hawk slowly turned and set a course toward Marineford.
Before withdrawing, its white sails fluttered and signal flags were raised.
"Have a safe journey."
…
Bang!
A fist slammed heaVeily onto the desk, scattering papers. Veil's face was dark as iron.
"A bunch of useless fools! Useless!"
Veins pulsed at his temples as he roared at the Vice Admirals who had come to report: "Ten warships! Five Vice Admirals! Tens of thousands of Marines! That's more than enough to wipe out an entire rebel nation! And yet thousands of slaves got away?! If you can't even handle a task this simple, what use are you to the Marines? How will the higher-ups look upon Headquarters now?"
The Vice Admirals slightly lowered their heads, remaining silently unresponsive, their expressions varied.
Yamakaji had a cigar in his mouth, a mocking smile playing on his lips in an angle Veil couldn't see, while Barker seemed to be suppressing something, occasionally casting an indignant glance at the figure in the center…
The figure in the center was, of course, Nao.
He remained motionless, meeting Veil's gaze without bowing. His extraordinarily handsome face revealed no emotion.
"White Dragon!"
Veil finally noticed Nao's expression and became even angrier. His bloodshot eyes stared fixedly at him, and he roared sharply, spittle flying
"You don't seem to care at all! Do you, huh?! I say you deliberately let them go!"
"If not, how could thousands escape from the famous White Dragon Nao?"
Nao still stood still, expressionless, without moving an inch.
The spraying spittle had been silently electrolyzed into hydrogen and oxygen before it could even touch his cheek, dissipating into the air.
"Suspicion without evidence — you're slandering me without proof."
He looked at the enraged Veil and smiled, saying, "That is unbecoming of a Fleet Admiral, Mr. Veil."
"No evidence?"
Veil paused briefly, then burst into furious laughter. He spat, "You talk to me about evidence at a time like this? White Dragon! Do you even realize how grave your mistake is?!"
"The entire Marine Headquarters — even the World Government — have been humiliated. Whether you did it on purpose or not, the mission failed and the slaves escaped; that is an indisputable fact! You were the overall commander; you bear the greatest responsibility and cannot be excused!"
Boom!
As he ranted, Veil slammed the desk with a palm. The tremendous force cracked the desk cleanly in two.
None of the Vice Admirals dared to breathe. Even Yamakaji's smile faded; he turned his head to look at Nao with concern.
"Suspension!"
With the desk shattered, Veil's rage seemed to have slightly subsided. He stared at Nao, speaking coldly:
"Effective immediately — suspended for two months. Record the highest disciplinary action. Cancel all annual leave pay! And you will return to me later to reflect and write a full self-criticism!"
"Within the next two months, you are forbidden to leave Headquarters. The Marine will conduct a full investigation into your actions during this operation!"
"A professional soldier's first and foremost duty is unconditional obedience to orders!"
"If it turns out, as in the incident at White City, that you acted on your own out of some ridiculous sense of 'justice,' then you will face multiple charges—and your punishment will not be as simple as this! Do you understa— wait, what are you doing, White Dragon?!"
Before he could finish, the cold menace in Veil's expression vanished, replaced by shock and fury.
Because at that very moment, Nao had slowly raised his right hand — brilliant blue lightning crackling in his palm.
Damn it!
This lunatic—how dare he!?
Veil's pupils contracted. The hair on his neck bristled, and almost instinctively, he jumped back two steps. A dark hue spread from his chest, flowing rapidly across his body.
In less than half a second, the dense ironlike armor of Armament Haki covered him completely — like a living suit of black steel.
Only after feeling a shred of safety did he glare back at Nao—only to realize that Nao had made no move to attack at all.
Instead, from that glowing hand, a small white slip of paper drifted free, floating lazily through the air toward him…
Veil's face flushed crimson under the strange looks of the surrounding Vice Admirals. Humiliated and angry, he snatched the paper from the air, letting his Haki armor fade away like receding tidewater. He tore open the envelope with a scowl.
"What is this supposed to be?" he snapped coldly.
But before Nao could answer, Veil's expression froze.
Because inside the envelope, written boldly across the top of the page, were two unmistakable characters:
「Resignation」
Veil's head snapped up in disbelief—just in time to meet Nao's easygoing, smiling gaze.
"Come now, Fleet Admiral Veil," Nao said lightly. "No need to be so tense. If I truly wanted to kill you, that little turtle shell of yours wouldn't help much."
Turtle shell?!
Rage surged back into Veil's face, but before he could speak, Nao chuckled lazily.
"Everything that needs to be said is written there. I won't waste time playing make-believe here with you, 'Fleet Admiral.'"
"As for your suspension order—don't bother. Let's just call it even. If fate allows, maybe we'll meet again someday."
He waved casually, turned his back, and walked away.
His figure disappeared through the doorway.
Veil trembled all over, his face purple with fury, staring after the departing man — unable to utter a single word.
Then, as the sea breeze from the open window rustled the paper in his hand, he glanced down.
It wasn't even a proper resignation letter — no greeting, no reason, no signature, no date.
Just four huge, bold characters written larger than the title itself:
"I QUIT, SCREW THIS."
...
An hour later, a shocking, bone-chilling rumor began circulating through the Marine's upper ranks — and soon spread like wildfire throughout all of Marineford.
—Nao Resigned.
The entire Marine Headquarters was thrown into chaos in an instant.
Some high-ranking officials, like Sengoku, Kizaru, and Tsuru, who learned the rough details through personal channels, all turned pale and immediately rushed to Nao's home.
They wanted to persuade Nao to endure it for now—to not leave the Marine impulsively over a momentary fit of anger.
As for the mid-level officers and the rank-and-file below, they knew nothing of the real circumstances behind the resignation.
Rumors spread wildly across the base, each retelling twisting the story a little further. By that very afternoon, it had morphed into this: the newly appointed Fleet Admiral Veil, abusing his authority, had deliberately singled out and humiliated Nao, forcing all the blame for the failed mission onto him—until the great "White Dragon" resigned in fury.
Was there no justice left in the world?
In terms of rank, Veil was certainly above him as Fleet Admiral.
But in terms of prestige and reputation, Nao stood as the most respected figure in all of Marine Headquarters—someone even Zephyr and Sengoku couldn't quite match, let alone Veil, who had just been parachuted into the post.
The anger spread like wildfire, igniting all of Marineford. From the docks to the training grounds, from the mess halls to the barracks—
Whether they were drilling, eating, or resting, even the warships that had already set sail for assignments began turning back one after another.
At a time like this, anyone who shouted Nao's name would rally a crowd within seconds. More and more Marines, filled with rage and indignation, began marching toward the central fortress.
They wanted justice for the man they admired—Vice Admiral White Dragon Nao.
They wanted answers from Fleet Admiral Veil, the man they saw as a puppet of the World Government.
By sunset, the massive plaza in front of the fortress was packed with people—well over a hundred thousand Marines had gathered, completely surrounding the central stronghold so tightly that not even a breeze could slip through.
In June, Year 1507 of the Sea Circle Calendar,
because of a single resignation letter, Marineford erupted in a collective mutiny—
the likes of which had never been seen in centuries.
...
That night—
After sending away the last group of high-ranking visitors who came to talk him out of it, Nao stepped into his courtyard.
Under the moonlight, only one person remained at the table—Aokiji, silently drinking sherry, saying nothing.
"What's wrong? Still not leaving?"
Nao pulled out a chair across from him and sat down with a smile.
"Dinner's over. Don't tell me you're staying to freeload a midnight snack?"
This guy had planned to head back to the G-5 branch by noon, but the moment he heard about the unrest at Headquarters, he panicked—abandoning his ship halfway and pedaling all the way back on his bicycle.
"Even Zephyr-sensei came to see you himself… You really won't listen to anyone? Can't you just hold on for a few years? Wait until Mr. Sengoku takes over instead? Why resign now of all times?"
Aokiji looked up, asking in a low voice.
"Yes, it's decided."
"Why?"
Nao slowly poured himself a drink, but didn't answer directly.
"The moon's nice tonight. Reminds me of back then… hmm, remember the first time we talked under the moonlight?"
"The first time… under the moonlight?"
Kuzan looked across the table at the strikingly handsome black-haired man and froze for a moment—then his thoughts drifted back to that night seven years ago.
...
Back then, he, a Vice Admiral, was temporarily acting as Head Instructor, leading a full ship of recruits back to Headquarters after finishing their practical assessment in the North Blue.
While passing through the Calm Belt.
He asked Nao, who was still an ordinary recruit at the time, a question.
"Take 'Justice,' for example, boy. That's the word that'll one day be engraved on the cloak you wear after you graduate. Tell me… what do you think of those two characters?"
The boy turned his head toward him, eyes filled with confusion. Under the moonlight, his messy hair looked like a bird's nest.
"There's not much to say about that, Vice Admiral. Everyone has their own idea of justice. As long as they hold fast to it and act on it, that's enough."
"But that… that's exactly the problem, boy."
The man had looked up at the night sky. The night was unusually dark that evening; the crescent moon hung like a hook, with only a few sparse stars scattered across the vast blackness.
"Take that star, for instance."
He pointed at one of them and said softly, "Even though it's trying so hard to shine, its light is still so faint. The darkness around it is as deep as ever, bottomless. If it were you, what would you do then?"
He was asking Nao—but in truth, he was also asking himself.
"I'd keep going."
"If I have a spark of warmth, I'll give a spark of light. Even if I'm not a star— even if I'm just a firefly— I'll still do my best to shine in the darkness. There's no need to wait for someone else to bring the torch."
The boy answered without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"…Does that tiny bit of light even matter?"
"Of course it does."
The boy smiled and pointed up at those scattered stars.
"And one more thing—you're mistaken about something. Those stars are actually much larger than the sun. They only look tiny to us because we're so far away that we can't see them clearly."
"But for the planets that orbit them, that light is blindingly bright—enough to warm and illuminate entire worlds."
Is that so?
He had looked up, squinting at the distant stars.
For some reason, memories flashed before him—
all the civilians he had saved over the years,
the pirates he had slain,
and just months ago,
Saul dying right before his eyes,
little Robin running away in tears...
"You asked me just now what I think justice is, right?"
"To do everything within my power to make this dark world just a little brighter— even if all I can erase is a firefly's worth of darkness. That's my justice."
He tore his gaze away from the night sky and looked back at the boy in a daze.
"Still… I don't think things are as hopeless as that. At least the Marine has so many who share the same ideals. Even the smallest fireflies, when gathered together, can light up a whole swath of the night."
The boy met his eyes, then suddenly grinned mischievously.
"Of course. But people should dream big, right? Who's to say what'll happen in the future? Maybe one day, this little firefly here will flap its wings, climb into the sky, and become a star— shining brighter than the sun itself, sweeping away all the darkness around it."
He stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly laughed.
"What an arrogant brat. Looks like your ambition's showing, boy."
Beneath the moonlight, the boy said nothing more—just smiled quietly.