Chapter 44 – Zephyr's Jaw Nearly Hit the Floor! (Double-Length Chapter)
After returning to Marineford, Yoriichi Tsugikuni once again took up residence in Zephyr's home.
Although the two had only spent half a month together before, the moment Zephyr appeared on Garp's warship and said he'd come to take Yoriichi "home," something in Yoriichi's heart shifted.
Before then, he had always been polite but reserved around Zephyr — respectful yet distant. There had always been an invisible wall between them, preventing any true bond.
To Yoriichi, the Navy had never truly felt like a home. But from that day on, his attitude changed — at least toward Zephyr.
Zephyr, for his part, had long treated Yoriichi like a cherished nephew. That word "teacher" Yoriichi had used for him — Zephyr took it to heart.
From the first moment Garp introduced the quiet, birthmarked youth to him, Zephyr had taken a liking to Yoriichi. When he accepted the title of "teacher" in Garp's presence, it had been no empty formality.
Yoriichi was immensely talented yet humble and courteous — qualities Zephyr deeply admired. Out of fondness, he'd invited Yoriichi to live in his home and even built a dojo in his courtyard specifically for his training.
Yoriichi had thought their half-month together hadn't been enough to forge a deep relationship.
But to Zephyr, from the moment Yoriichi called him teacher, their bond as master and disciple had already been sealed.
Dawn.
A faint mist blanketed Marineford as the first light of morning crept over the horizon.
In Yoriichi's room, the air was dim and still. The weak sunlight filtering through the window barely illuminated the sparsely furnished space.
Since moving back in, Yoriichi had made a few modest changes.
Where once there had been nothing but a futon on the tatami and a wardrobe by the window, now a polished sword rack stood beside it.
Upon the rack rested three blades.
At the top — Yoriichi's own katana, Kokuyō (the Black Blade Dawn).
Below it — two sheatheless swords: Enma and Ame-no-Habakiri, the twin masterpieces once wielded by Kozuki Oden, both among the 21 Great Grade Blades.
These had been Garp's spoils of war.
But since Garp himself didn't use swords — and aside from Bogard, no one on his ship was particularly skilled with them — he'd decided to give them to Yoriichi.
As Garp had said, "A fine sword in the hands of a fool is wasted steel. Better it be wielded by someone worthy — or not at all."
Originally, Garp had only intended to gift Yoriichi one blade — Ame-no-Habakiri — planning to seal away Enma, the "demon sword," fearing it might harm him.
But after seeing Yoriichi effortlessly wield Enma back on the ship, Garp abandoned that concern and handed over both blades without hesitation. How Yoriichi chose to use or keep them was entirely up to him.
Yoriichi, appreciating the gesture, accepted the swords without protest. Though he wasn't a "three-sword-style" swordsman, he could still appreciate fine craftsmanship — and a swordsman never turned away from good steel.
As for repaying Garp's kindness, Yoriichi had already made up his mind.
Once he came of age, he would join the Navy. He would never be a pirate, a revolutionary, or a deserter.
The reputation of Hero Garp — he would guard it himself.
The mist over Marineford slowly lifted, and the morning light streamed into Yoriichi's room.
Stirred by his own discipline, Yoriichi woke naturally.
He sat up, blinking drowsily for a few seconds before his lips curved into a faint smile. Standing, he dressed in a loose white training robe, took his katana from the rack, and stepped outside.
Even now, he felt a touch of unreality. Three months at sea had accustomed him to the rocking of waves and the embrace of a hammock. Sleeping in a stationary room still felt… strange.
He rubbed his neck, walked into the courtyard, washed his face at the stone basin, then turned toward the dojo, sword in hand.
That was when a familiar voice called from behind him:
"Oi! Yoriichi! Up early again, huh?"
"How'd you sleep?"
Turning around, Yoriichi saw Zephyr approaching slowly along the corridor. He smiled warmly.
"Very well," he replied. "Sleeping on land is much better than on the ship. You've no idea, Instructor — Kuzan's feet stink. The whole cabin reeked of his 'manly essence.'"
Zephyr burst out laughing. "Kuzan, eh? The kid's got smelly feet, does he? Hahahaha!"
"Now that you mention him, his rotation's just about done. He's due for promotion — Rear Admiral, I think. I haven't even thought of a proper gift yet, but after hearing this…"
He smirked. "I'll buy him a fine new pair of boots. Maybe then his feet'll stop stinking! Hahahaha!"
Finding humor in shared complaints, teacher and student chatted easily.
But as Zephyr glanced toward the sword in Yoriichi's hand, he remembered what the boy had likely been about to do.
"Yoriichi," Zephyr asked with a grin, "up this early just to train again?"
He already knew the answer — but he wanted to hear it from Yoriichi himself.
"Yes," Yoriichi nodded. "I don't want to waste the morning. I learned a few things aboard Vice Admiral Garp's ship, and I'd like to keep refining them."
Zephyr's chest swelled with pride.
That's my student.
Such diligence — this was what it meant to be an exemplary disciple!
He couldn't help but recall one of his former students — a certain lazy fool who'd somehow made it to Vice Admiral but was still, in his heart, a slacker.
(Yes, Borsalino — I'm talking about you.)
His admiration soon turned to curiosity.
What exactly had Yoriichi "learned" under Garp? Zephyr wanted to see it for himself.
If the boy hadn't made progress after three months at sea… then he'd personally go give Garp an earful!
"Yoriichi," he said suddenly, eyes glinting, "spar with me."
"I want to see how much you've grown."
Yoriichi nodded and followed Zephyr into the dojo.
Setting his real sword aside, he took up a bamboo practice sword from the rack and faced his teacher.
Zephyr, standing unarmed, flexed his hands and smiled casually.
"Come, Yoriichi. Go all out — don't hold back."
"…Understood. Please be careful, Instructor."
As soon as Yoriichi spoke, he drew a deep breath — and vanished.
Zephyr's eyes widened.
"Hm?!"
He couldn't even follow Yoriichi's movement with the naked eye. Instantly, he switched to Observation Haki, seeking the boy's presence.
In the next heartbeat, Yoriichi reappeared — behind him.
His bamboo sword, wrapped in flowing Armament Haki, swept toward Zephyr's waist at blinding speed, slicing the air with a sharp whistle.
"Good!" Zephyr barked, hastily reinforcing his body with Haki and blocking with his forearm.
Clang!
The impact rang like metal. Yoriichi immediately leapt back, widening the gap.
Zephyr stood unmoving, but a faint ache throbbed along his arm — and his expression froze.
He's… integrated Armament Flow into Soru.
Not just on his legs, but on his arms — and even the weapon itself!
Such precise control… and such a wide coverage?!
Zephyr's jaw nearly hit the tatami.
After returning to Marineford, Yoriichi Tsugikuni once again took up residence in Zephyr's home.
Though they had only known each other for barely half a month, Yoriichi's feelings toward the man changed completely the moment Zephyr appeared on Garp's warship to personally "bring him home."
At first, Yoriichi had always been reserved around Zephyr. They weren't distant, but there had always been an invisible wall between them — something that kept the two from truly opening their hearts to one another.
He had never truly felt a sense of belonging within the Navy.
But from that day onward, his attitude shifted — at least, when it came to Zephyr.
Zephyr genuinely treated Yoriichi like family, like a nephew or even a son. That title of teacher Yoriichi gave him was far from empty courtesy.
From the moment Garp had brought the boy with the "birthmark" on his face before him, Zephyr had taken a liking to him.
When he accepted that first call of "Teacher" in front of Garp, it had meant something — more than simple formality.
Yoriichi was gifted, polite, and composed. Out of affection, Zephyr invited him to live in his home and even had a dojo built in the yard, so the boy would have a place to train.
Yoriichi had thought their short half-month together wasn't enough to form a real bond.
But to Zephyr, the moment he had accepted that title of "teacher," their bond had already been sealed — as close as any master and disciple could be.
Morning dawned faintly over Marineford, a thin veil of mist softening the first light.
In Yoriichi's room, the world was still gray.
The pale glow creeping through the window barely illuminated the sparse interior. Since his return, he had changed a few things.
Once bare except for a futon and a small wardrobe by the window, the room now held an elegant sword rack.
Three blades rested upon it.
On the top tier was Yoriichi's own sword — the black blade, Dawnbreaker.
Beneath it lay two unsheathed masterpieces: Enma and Ame-no-Habakiri, once the personal blades of Kozuki Oden — both among the twenty-one Great Grade swords.
They were Garp's spoils of battle.
But since the man had no use for swords — and no swordsman aboard his ship besides Bogard — he'd given them to Yoriichi instead.
As Garp had said: keeping such fine blades to gather dust was a waste, and handing them to mediocrities would only insult their craftsmanship.
At first, he had planned to give Yoriichi only Ame-no-Habakiri, fearing that Enma, the demon blade, might harm him.
But after watching Yoriichi wield Enma with perfect composure, he abandoned that thought and gifted him both swords.
Yoriichi accepted them gratefully. He wasn't a "Three-Sword Style" swordsman, but a blade of that caliber was a treasure.
And as for returning the favor — he already knew how he would.
Once he came of age, he would join the Marines.
He would never become a pirate, nor a revolutionary, nor a traitor.
And in every battle he faced, he would never run away.
If anyone was going to uphold Garp the Hero's honor — it would be him.
As the mist lifted and sunlight crept into his room, Yoriichi stirred awake, pulled from sleep by his own "diligence."
He sat up groggily, gazing around the unfamiliar stillness.
After a moment, a faint smile appeared on his lips. He rose, changed into a loose white training gi, took Dawnbreaker from the rack, and stepped outside.
He still wasn't quite used to it — after months at sea, the steady ground felt strange beneath his feet.
He missed the sway of the ship, the snugness of the hammock. This quiet stillness almost felt unnatural.
He washed his face at the small pond in the courtyard, then turned toward the dojo — when a familiar voice called from behind him.
"Hey, Yoriichi! You're up early!"
"How'd you sleep?"
Turning, Yoriichi saw Zephyr approaching down the veranda. He smiled gently.
"Very well, thank you. The ship's bunks aren't nearly as comfortable as a real bed. You wouldn't believe how bad Kuzan's feet smell — the entire cabin was full of his so-called 'manly aroma.'"
"Hahahaha!" Zephyr burst out laughing. "Kuzan, huh? That kid's feet stink, do they?!"
"Come to think of it, his rotation's over now — he'll be promoted to Rear Admiral soon. I hadn't even decided what to get him as a gift, but after what you said— I think I'll buy him a good pair of boots!"
"Maybe then he'll stop stinking up the place! Hahahaha!"
Their laughter mingled easily — teacher and student finding humor in shared teasing.
Then Zephyr's gaze drifted to the sword in Yoriichi's hand.
"Heading to train already?" he asked with a knowing grin. "Early morning and you're ready to swing a blade?"
Yoriichi nodded. "I don't want to waste the morning. I learned a few things aboard Vice Admiral Garp's ship — I'd like to strengthen them."
"Good. Very good." Zephyr's eyes shone with pride.
Now this was what an exemplary disciple looked like. Hardworking, driven — not like that lazy idiot he'd trained before. (Yes, you — Borsalino, stop pretending I didn't mean you!)
Still, Zephyr's curiosity piqued. He wanted to see how much Yoriichi had improved in those three months.
"Come, Yoriichi," he said, stepping into the dojo. "Spar with me. Let me see how far you've come."
Yoriichi followed, setting his sword aside and picking up a bamboo practice blade.
Zephyr faced him empty-handed, smiling faintly. "Don't hold back," he said. "Come at me with everything you've got."
Yoriichi bowed slightly. "Then please be careful, Teacher."
The moment his words fell, Yoriichi vanished.
Zephyr's eyes widened. He couldn't even follow the boy's movements with his sight — only his Observation Haki could barely track the flash of motion.
Then, in an instant, Yoriichi appeared behind him, bamboo sword wrapped in flowing Armament Haki, cutting toward Zephyr's waist with blinding speed — the air itself screaming at the strike.
"Well done!"
Zephyr barely had time to reinforce his body, coating himself in Haki as he turned to block—
Clang!
The impact rang like metal striking steel.
Yoriichi slid back, landing lightly several paces away.
Zephyr stood unmoving — but the faint ache in his arm made his eyes widen in disbelief.
"He's not only mastered Soru, but he's fused it with Armament Haki… covering both legs and the blade at once?! And that strike — it actually hurt!"
For the first time in years, Zephyr — the man who'd once stood as an Admiral through sheer martial power alone — felt pain from a student's blow.
Three months ago, he could have blocked Yoriichi's attacks with Tekkai alone.
Now, even with full Armament Haki, he couldn't shrug them off.
"Teacher Zephyr, are you all right?" Yoriichi asked, lowering his weapon slightly. "Shall we continue?"
Through his Transparent World perception, he could see the faint flush on Zephyr's skin where his strike had landed.
It wasn't a wound — barely even a bruise — but to Yoriichi, it was proof.
If he'd used a real blade, that strike could've cut deep.
He'd broken through Zephyr's defenses.
Even using only a bamboo sword.
That alone made Yoriichi quietly thrilled — after all, the Straw Hats themselves hadn't managed to hurt Zephyr in the movie timeline.
"Hahahahaha!" Zephyr suddenly roared with laughter.
"Good! Very good!"
"This is getting interesting! You've really surprised me, kid — hahahahaha!"
"But I can't let my student show me up that easily. Guess I'll have to get serious!"
He bent his knees slightly — and then vanished.
In the blink of an eye, Zephyr was in front of Yoriichi, his massive fist arcing toward the boy's head like a thunderbolt.
Even with his Transparent World and Observation Haki, Yoriichi's body couldn't react fast enough.
He raised his bamboo sword in desperation —
—and it shattered on impact.
Eyes narrowing, Yoriichi coated his forehead with Haki, bracing for the blow—
But the strike never came.
Zephyr's heavy fist halted mid-air, turning into a gentle palm that pressed lightly atop Yoriichi's head.
"Not bad! Not bad at all!" Zephyr laughed.
"To stay calm under pressure — your Observation Haki's coming along nicely."
"In just a few months, you've grown more than I ever imagined. You've mastered Soru, and both Armament and Observation Haki!"
"You really are a genius, Yoriichi! Hahahaha!"
Though their exchange had lasted only moments, Zephyr already knew enough.
Three techniques — mastered in three months.
It was absurd. Admirals-to-be trained for years to reach this level.
Most Vice Admirals never would.
For comparison, plenty of Marine officers who specialized in close combat spent half a year mastering one of the Six Powers — some needed years.
Many never succeeded at all.
At this rate, Yoriichi could already best most Vice Admirals in the base —
and he was only twelve.
And with his talent, this was nowhere near his limit.
"Yoriichi," Zephyr said, his tone softening. "I've got a good idea of your current level now."
"To have learned all this so quickly… You truly are my disciple."
"Next, you should focus on expanding your Haki coverage — aim to coat your entire body at once. Once that's done, we'll work on its quality."
"Haki has two key aspects: quantity and quality.
Quality determines how strong your defense and offense are.
Quantity determines how long you can keep fighting."
He looked at Yoriichi curiously.
"Tell me — if you maintained your current output, how long could you fight?"
Yoriichi thought for a moment. "I haven't tested it, but… about half an hour, I think."
Zephyr nodded slowly. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face before he clapped Yoriichi on the shoulder.
"Half an hour, huh? Not bad. But true top-tier fighters can go all-out for five to ten days without running dry!"
"You've still got a long way to go, kid. Don't get arrogant — and don't stop moving forward."
"I understand," Yoriichi said earnestly.
He didn't doubt a word of it. In this world, the stamina of true monsters was that unbelievable.
Zephyr chuckled. "By the way… did Garp ever teach you something called Life Return?"
Yoriichi's eyes widened slightly. He had heard the term, but it wasn't part of the standard Six Powers, and Garp had never brought it up. He'd been too absorbed in his Haki training to ask.
He shook his head. "No, Teacher."
"Heh… figures that oaf forgot the most important part." Zephyr smiled.
"You've come this far on sheer talent alone. But Life Return — that's the foundation of true physical mastery."
"Yoriichi, in the days ahead, this will be your top priority. I'll teach you myself."
(End of Chapter)
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