After being gifted extra servings of juice from the mess hall for several days in a row, Yahn finally couldn't hold back. He quietly and awkwardly hinted to the kind-hearted navy cook that he was already an adult—and, for now, didn't really have any official duties. Drinking too much juice all the time wasn't exactly great either.
What he really meant was:
"I'm not a kid anymore. You don't have to keep treating me like one by giving me juice every day. And since I'm not actively on duty aboard the ship, I feel bad enjoying such special treatment."
The navy cook paused for just a moment, then nodded with a sudden look of realization on his face.
"I see!" he said.
Then, without another word, he snatched Yahn's water flask from his hands and sneakily slipped off to the back kitchen.
Yahn stood there blinking, his mind filled with question marks.
Wait… does he think I was telling him to just be more discreet about it? Like, don't hand me juice so obviously?
Unbeknownst to Yahn, the navy uncle was already in the storage room, pouring top-quality liquor into his water flask with a secretive grin.
When he returned, he handed the now-full flask back to Yan with a conspiratorial wink.
"Brother Yahn, this stuff's the real deal. Don't let the others catch you with it."
Yahn could only force a polite thank you, then staggered off to his room, continuing to feign his usual "seasick and dizzy" demeanor.
Back in his room, without thinking much, Yahn took a big swig from the flask—out of habit, the same way he drank juice.
"…Why does this taste a little… intoxicating? And kind of familiar…"
Suspicious, he took another sip and smacked his lips thoughtfully. The flavor was oddly recognizable.
Then—right around the moment he felt his body getting lighter and his head beginning to float—his fuzzy mind snapped into sudden clarity.
"Oh no… wait. This is definitely alcohol…"
Unfortunately, by then it was too late. The booze had already kicked in. Unable to stop himself, Yahn kept drinking. Then, as the drunkenness took hold, he suddenly burst into song:
🎵 "Life… oh life…"
🎵 "Life is but a few short autumns—how can one go without a drink?"
The song, loud and unrestrained, drifted across the corridor—drawing none other than Kuzan over to investigate.
When he saw Yahn, clearly drunk and singing like a free spirit, he frowned and asked sharply, "Yahn, are you drinking during the day? Where'd you even get alcohol?"
Still buzzed, Yahn waved lazily and tilted his head.
"Brother Kuzan~ Come on, don't sweat the small stuff. As they say, one drink drowns a thousand sorrows. I've been so repressed! Finally relaxing like this feels amazing!"
Kuzan narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Is that so?"
"You want a drink?" Yahn offered cheerfully.
Kuzan hesitated. Part of him was tempted, but another part remembered his discipline—his long-standing adherence to navy regulations.
But Yahn, ever the wildcard, grabbed Kuzan by the arm, yanked him into the room, and shut the door behind them.
"Drink!"
He rummaged around the room for a cup and filled it to the brim.
Kuzan looked at it, hesitating. "Regulations are pretty clear. No drinking outside of rest hours… it's not appropriate."
"What's the big deal?"
Yahn's eyes were glassy but persuasive.
"Old man Garp naps all day and still gets called a Navy hero! Sometimes, having a few harmless 'flaws' makes it easier for the higher-ups to accept you."
Kuzan frowned, then slowly nodded.
That… kind of made sense.
With a reluctant sigh, he lifted the cup and downed it in one go.
Just like that, the atmosphere in the room instantly softened. It felt lighter. More human.
Kuzan asked offhandedly, "I mean, I get me drinking—but what are you even stressed about?"
"Ha, me?" Yahn chuckled. "Naturally, my troubles come from the Navy… from the sea… and this era itself."
He was still lucid enough to avoid saying anything too revealing. Instead, he spoke vaguely:
"Don't you think the Navy's ideals aren't… pure enough? Don't you think this ocean's too chaotic? Don't you think this entire era is a damn mess?"
Kuzan was surprised.
Up to now, he'd thought Yahn was just some kindhearted second-generation officer, a bit lazy, with no ambition and a tendency to avoid credit.
But now…
"…You're not as simple as you seem," Kuzan muttered.
"Obviously," Yahn shrugged, smug. "What kind of normal person doesn't keep seven or eight trump cards hidden up their sleeve?"
Kuzan blinked.
Wait… does that mean I'm not normal?
Still confused, he took another gulp and asked, "Why the hell do you need so many trump cards?"
Yahn tilted his head and opened his mouth—
"To start a rev—"
He cut himself off, catching himself mid-sentence.
"I mean… for justice, of course."
He looked serious.
"Everyone has their own version of justice, right? With all the limits and differing beliefs around us, sometimes I can't act openly. But if I've got cards hidden, I can still do what I believe is right… in secret."
That struck a chord.
For someone like Kuzan—who had spent recent years feeling lost and full of doubt—it hit deep.
He thought about it quietly.
He's right. Everyone's justice is shaped by their thoughts, their stance. Mine and Sakazuki's have always clashed… but if we fought every time, what would that solve?
Especially if we ever became Admirals… a civil war at that level could wreck the Navy's authority and give pirates even more power to run rampant.
But… if I let things I can't tolerate happen in front of me… what's the point of calling myself a Marine?
Yahn's words really had a point.
Instead of fighting overtly… maybe it's better to—
"Hey…"
Yahn's voice snapped him back. He was shaking the now-empty flask. "Brother Kuzan, go fetch more booze, yeah?"
Kuzan stared at him for a moment.
Then, for the first time in a long while, the tension on his face eased. With a sigh—and maybe a bit of amusement—he nodded and stepped outside.
"And don't forget the peanuts and seaweed snacks!" Yahn called after him.
"Yeah, yeah, got it!" Kuzan shouted back.
Before long, Kuzan returned… trailed by several other Marines, all carrying large jars of fine liquor and plates full of snacks.
Yahn, still swaying in his drunken daze, looked at the scene, tilted his head, and muttered hazily:
"…Did I just… lead Kuzan astray?"
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