Chapter 24 — Conversation
Time slipped away and the sun finally sank; the sea fell into dusk. After dealing with the Tusk Pirates, they encountered no other bands and at last reached the designated safe waters.
A roar of relief went up from every sailor of the 315th Branch — this had been a brutal mission, one that no ordinary West Blue detachment ought to have handled. Yet they had: they had escorted the former Marine Admiral, now the Navy's Chief Instructor, safely to refuge. This was a feat they could boast about for years.
For those young sailors, joy was natural. It lasted only until Enchi the colonel began yelling — then faces fell, whispers spread, and the jubilation curdled. None of that touched Eiger. As the sun vanished, the energy that had driven him all day slackened; he became languid and fell to the rail, watching the calm black water and thinking about home.
"Eiger — that's your name, right?" a voice asked from behind.
Eiger only half-turned. Zephyr stood beside him, looking out over the sea. Eiger gave a brief nod. "Instructor Zephyr."
Zephyr laughed. "Now you call me Zephyr and not 'coward', eh?" He shook his head in a way that was half chide, half admiration. "I can't believe you retired. What a pity."
When Zephyr spoke of the Navy's rejection of good men, his voice carried a raw edge; he clearly had things he wanted to curse about the Headquarters. Then, with a calmer tone, he said, "Enchi told me your story. Want to come back to Headquarters? Whatever you'd like to learn, I'll teach you."
Eiger's answer was immediate and quiet: "No, thanks."
Zephyr blinked in surprise. "Why? Are you sulking because Headquarters refused you? Don't be stubborn. You've got talent — let me straighten this out."
Eiger smiled, small and warm. "It's not that. I've got a family now. I want to spend more time at home."
At those words Zephyr fell quiet, then laughed in a way that sounded like both joy and melancholy. "Family, huh? A fine reason. So many toss their families aside chasing dreams out on the sea… to hear someone stop for family — that's rare." He looked at the dark water, eyes oddly wet. "No doubt, nothing's more important than family. If only I'd known sooner."
The air between them softened. For a long, silent moment the two men simply watched the rolling dark.
Then Zephyr asked, his voice growing serious and earnest, "What do you think of justice?"
Eiger blinked. Justice? He had never truly believed in abstract doctrines, not even when he first enlisted. Still — this felt like an examination, and he readied himself to give the right answer. But before Eiger could speak Zephyr cut him off with a sigh and reached into his sleeve.
He slid a worn book across to Eiger. "This is my understanding of Armament Haki, methods to practice it, and training notes on the Navy's Six Techniques. Maybe it'll help you. Consider it payment — a thanks for today's escort."
Eiger had no immediate answer — only gratitude. Before he could say anything, Ain approached quietly and bowed. "Thank you. Instructor Zephyr," she whispered, then turned respectfully to Zephyr. "Marine Hero Vice-Admiral Garp is on his way to collect you."
"Garp's coming?" Zephyr's face creased; he nodded. Turning to Eiger he smiled, cordial and unforced. "Then we'll meet again, gifted young man."
He left as if nothing had happened — the morning's chaos already folding into memory.
As Zephyr walked away, a low, fierce sentence hung in the air — Eiger felt the words settle in his chest:
"My justice is justice. Whoever stands against it, I'll cut down. If you can't protect your family and the people you care about, then what right have you to preach justice?"
The words were simple, blunt, and earnest — a private creed, spoken like a challenge to the world and to himself.
That calm, almost casual statement stopped Zephyr in his tracks.
He froze mid-step, his expression stiffening as if he hadn't quite heard correctly.
"My justice is justice?"
For a moment, the words echoed in his head.
What about the World Government's justice?
What about the Marine Headquarters' justice?
What about the justice of absolute order and control?
No… what that boy spoke of wasn't the government's justice, nor the Marines', nor even the "absolute justice" that the Admirals prided themselves on.
It was something more dangerous — a self-centered justice.
A justice that belonged to no one but himself.
Zephyr frowned slightly, a chill running through his chest. Had he just handed his life's training notes to a stubborn fool who didn't believe in reason or order?
But when Eiger's following words came to mind — about protecting one's family, about fighting for those one cared about — Zephyr fell silent again. His thoughts drifted, tangled in memories of his own losses, his own ideals that had crumbled over the years.
He exhaled heavily and said to Ain, who had been standing nearby with her brow furrowed,
"Let's go."
---
When Zephyr and his group finally disembarked and leapt onto the Dog-Head Warship, Eiger remained at the railing of the 315th, looking down at the small, worn book in his hands.
He chuckled and shook his head.
"'Justice,' huh? What a useless thing to talk about."
From the very beginning, he had never cared for the so-called "justice" that the Marines preached. If he had, he wouldn't have left in the first place.
Justice? What a joke.
The same "justice" that let the old men up top buy and sell slaves, use women as toys, and hand out licenses for legalized piracy—
the same justice that dressed up their greed and brutality in the language of "order" and "righteousness."
And then those same men dared to lecture the ones below them about "moral duty"?
Hypocrites.
Even hypocrisy should have limits.
So what was that justice worth?
Nothing.
Maybe justice existed only to chain the weak — not to guide the strong.
He tucked the book away and looked again toward the Dog-Head ship nearby.
A long stretch of fatigue ran through his limbs as he stretched, smiling faintly to himself.
"Got what I came for," he murmured. "Time to go home."
---
Meanwhile, on the Dog-Head Warship, Zephyr had barely stepped aboard when he heard a booming, familiar laugh.
"Hahaha! So it's true — you actually got your arm chopped off by pirates! I came to comfort you, but it looks like you're doing just fine!"
Zephyr turned to see the man himself — Monkey D. Garp, the Hero of the Marines — one arm slung over his shoulder, grinning ear to ear.
"You think you could comfort me, you old fool?" Zephyr shot back with a helpless smile. "Weren't you supposed to be on vacation? What are you doing here?"
"Blame Sengoku," Garp grumbled, picking his nose without shame. "Said if I didn't show up, he'd dock my pay. So here I am!"
Then his face split into that feral grin again. "Anyway, forget that — let's head back to Headquarters. I'm gonna eat every single one of Sengoku's hidden snacks before he notices!"
He raised a hand dramatically.
"Set course for Marineford!"
Zephyr stared at him for a long moment, torn between laughter and exasperation.
He could only sigh and turn his gaze back toward the 315th Branch warship still gliding in the distance.
His eyes were filled with something complicated — a tangle of pride and regret.
"Zephyr-sensei," Ain said softly, following his gaze. "You really think highly of him, don't you?"
Zephyr chuckled and nodded. "A fine boy. If he'd joined Headquarters, he might've become a future admiral. What a waste… Well, perhaps we'll meet again."
Before Ain could respond, Garp leaned over, holding something that made Zephyr's eye twitch.
"Who're you talking about? Another kid with admiral potential? Why didn't you bring him in? Ah, whatever — I'm just a Vice Admiral, not my problem."
He waved the object carelessly.
"By the way, why'd you bring this with you? You keeping it as a souvenir?"
He gave the item a shake — Zephyr's severed arm, still sealed in a preservation bag.
Zephyr's face darkened instantly.
"GARP, YOU DAMNED IDIOT! STOP WAVING MY ARM AROUND!"
Ain and Binz froze. Garp blinked, then smirked like a mischievous child caught mid-prank.
"What? Thought I'd keep it in case you wanted it back later!"
"Put it down before I throw you overboard!" Zephyr roared, veins bulging.
And as the two legendary Marines bickered on the deck, the Dog-Head Warship slowly turned toward the horizon — one ship heading home, another heading to the heart of the Navy, and between them, a sea that swallowed both laughter and ideals alike.