Life Return.
It wasn't one of the Six Styles of the Navy, yet in essence, it was a technique just as profound—perhaps even greater.
At first glance, it might seem similar to Paper Arts, a defensive technique that allows the user to relax their muscles to evade attacks.
But Life Return was something of an entirely different order—if Paper Arts were a branch, Life Return was the whole tree.
It allowed one's consciousness to permeate every part of their body, granting full control over each organ, muscle, or hair. That was the essence of Life Return.
In simple applications, one could use it to control their hair—moving it like limbs. The best-known users of this were the future Vice Admiral Onigumo and CP9's Kumadori.
More advanced practitioners could even control their internal organs. For instance, they could manipulate the esophagus and stomach to enhance digestion—allowing them to efficiently process large amounts of food.
After all, the world of One Piece obeyed the laws of energy—well, to a degree.
Powerful individuals often had terrifying appetites, yet a normal human digestive system could never keep up. Without massive energy intake, there could be no superhuman strength.
Life Return bridged that broken cycle—by enabling complete biological control, it let humans evolve beyond their physical limits.
When Zephyr (Zefa) learned that Yoriichi Tsugikuni hadn't been taught Life Return by Garp, he personally began to explain its theory and uses to him.
At first, Zephyr was astonished.
For someone like Yoriichi, whose growth was already monstrous even withoutLife Return, to learn it would mean his future progress could become utterly terrifying.
Yoriichi listened attentively to Zephyr's explanation. The instructor even used their breakfast as a live demonstration, performing Life Return to control his own body.
Through his Transparent World, Yoriichi observed every subtle motion within Zephyr's body as the technique was executed. After pondering for a while, he decided to try it himself.
And—well, it wasn't something one could just "see and instantly master."
It took Yoriichi the entire morning of focused practice before he managed to grasp it.
But once he did, his appetite didn't explode the way Zephyr feared—it merely increased slightly.
Still, the benefits were staggering.
Before, Yoriichi could fight at full strength for only half an hour before his Haki was spent, requiring six or seven hours to recover.
Now, with Life Return, a single meal and less than three hours of rest were enough for full recovery.
His recovery speed had literally doubled.
For training, that was an incredible advantage.
When Zephyr came home that evening, ready to have dinner with Yoriichi, he walked into the kitchen—only to find the pantry completely empty.
For a moment, he thought he'd been robbed. But then the realization struck him.
He rushed to the dojo, where he found Yoriichi furiously swinging his bamboo sword, Haki crackling along its length, each strike slicing through the air with thunderous roars.
In one corner, two massive bags of trash stood neatly tied up. Zephyr didn't need to check to know what they contained.
"He learned it… in one day?!"
"This kid—what on earth is he made of?!"
Zephyr could only gape in disbelief. Not wanting to interrupt, he quietly sat by the doorway, watching as Yoriichi trained.
He noticed the boy's breathing followed an oddly rhythmic pattern—each inhale and exhale seemed laborious, and occasionally, pain flashed across Yoriichi's face.
Yoriichi had succeeded in mastering Life Return that morning—and immediately began experimenting, merging it with his "Haki breathing method."
And it worked.
Now that he could consciously control his organs, channeling Armament Haki into them had become far easier. His breathing techniques were smoother, and the physical strain was greatly reduced.
He could now complete an entire Sun Breathing sequence using this new method.
With both Life Return and his breathing style reinforcing each other, Yoriichi couldn't imagine how far his body might continue to evolve.
"Hoh!"
"Yoriichi, your swordsmanship is truly impressive!"
Zephyr finally spoke up, watching as Yoriichi finished a set of Sun Breathing forms.
Turning around, Yoriichi smiled and said proudly, "Teacher Zephyr, I've mastered Life Return."
Then, a bit sheepishly, he added, "I'm sorry… I ate all the food in the house."
Zephyr laughed heartily, waving off the apology. Compared to what he'd just witnessed, a few missing groceries were nothing.
Besides, Yoriichi's sword forms had been breathtaking—fluid, elegant, and powerful. In all his years in the Navy, Zephyr had never seen a swordsman move like that.
"If the food's gone, we'll just buy more," Zephyr said with a grin. "Your teacher here's the Navy's chief instructor—I won't go broke feeding one student!"
"But you, kid—you've only been back one day, and you've already given me more surprises than I can count."
"Excellent! Truly excellent! As expected of my disciple!"
"Ha ha ha ha!"
After laughing to his heart's content, Zephyr's expression grew more serious. He beckoned Yoriichi closer.
"Yoriichi," he began gravely, "this afternoon, the Fleet Admiral called me to his office. He wanted to know more about you."
"He's… very interested in you."
"There's something I have to tell you," Zephyr continued. "Of course, the choice is yours—no one will force you, whether you accept or not."
The sudden shift in tone caught Yoriichi off guard. He nodded solemnly. "Teacher, please go on."
"Given your extraordinary ability," Zephyr said slowly, "the Fleet Admiral intends to enroll you early into the Navy Academy."
"However, once admitted, you'll remain there until adulthood."
Even as he spoke, Zephyr's brows furrowed.
Truth be told, he didn't like the idea.
Those complacent veterans at the Academy could be a bad influence on someone as pure as Yoriichi.
And more importantly—the boy was still too young. The Academy's cadets often went on live sea expeditions.
While the missions weren't as dangerous as those of the combat divisions, they were still real operations—because some lessons could only be learned at sea.
Each expedition was usually led by a Rear Admiral or Vice Admiral, and only on rare occasions by Zephyr himself.
So while it was an academy, it could just as well be called a low-frequency "training fleet."
The Navy Academy was never an ivory tower.
The main reason Zephyr opposed the idea was because he couldn't guarantee Yoriichi's safety.
He trusted himself. He trusted Garp. But he didn't trust those other officers leading the expeditions.
Every year, many cadets died in real battles.
Only those who survived went on to greater heights—commanding the seas or rising within headquarters.
The Navy Academy was a place where danger and opportunity coexisted.
"...The Navy Academy?"
"I can join the Navy Academy?!"
"Teacher Zephyr, what's there to even think about? Of course I'm joining!"
Yoriichi spoke without the slightest hesitation—it was only natural to him. He had heard a few things about the Navy Academy from Aokiji. Though it was called a school, its cadets were all officially ranked soldiers—it was, in truth, a functioning military unit.
Merits earned during one's time there weren't just for show; they carried over upon graduation. Some might enter as mere sergeants and leave as lieutenant commanders.
The average graduate spent two years training—coming out as a captain was already impressive. Only the very best reached field officer rank.
But Yoriichi, entering at such a young age, even if he started from the lowest rank, could easily rise through achievements alone. By the time he reached adulthood—six years later—he could very well graduate as an officer of general rank.
At eighteen, most had only one year of service.
He would have six.
They weren't even on the same starting line.
Of course, Yoriichi wasn't obsessed with power or rank. But he understood the necessity of authority and influence for the path he intended to walk. To act freely in this world—to not be a pawn in someone else's game—strength alone wasn't enough. Rank mattered. Connections mattered. The Navy Academy was the perfect place to build both.
"Yoriichi…" Zephyr frowned slightly, sounding troubled. "Why not think it over a bit more?"
He wasn't trying to hold Yoriichi back—he knew the boy's drive to grow stronger, his thirst to see the world. But Zephyr had planned a safer path for him. Sending Yoriichi into the field so early felt reckless.
"Teacher Zephyr, I've already made up my mind!"
"I'm deeply grateful to the Fleet Admiral for the opportunity. I want to join the Navy Academy."
"I understand what you're worried about, but… when I went to sea with Vice Admiral Garp, I met the Roger Pirates."
"You might not believe this, but that crew had two boys around my age."
"Vice Admiral Garp said something that stuck with me—'If pirates can go to sea, then Marines should be able to as well!'"
"I've learned so many combat techniques. What's the point if I never test them in a real battlefield? A battlefield teaches far more than any training ground ever could!"
Zephyr stared at Yoriichi's youthful face, speechless for a long while.
In the end, he could only sigh, resignation softening his expression. "If that's what you've decided… then from tomorrow, you'll come with me to the Navy Academy."
"Normally, cadets stay in the dormitories—but at your age, I don't trust you living among those lazy good-for-nothings."
"In the morning, you'll attend classes with me. After training in the evening, you'll return home. If there's a field exercise, I'll try to be the one leading the mission myself."
He spoke as he stood up, every word brimming with concern. Yoriichi bowed deeply—he could feel Zephyr's genuine care.
That night, dinner was oddly quiet. Zephyr's mood soured as he wrestled between pride and worry. But Yoriichi's resolve was firm, and Zephyr could only vent his frustration inward—specifically toward Fleet Admiral Kong.
He'd already decided: if anything happened to Yoriichi at that academy, Kong would answer for it personally.
In Zephyr's eyes, Yoriichi was the future of the Marines.
After dinner, the two took a brief walk through the residential district to settle their food, then returned home. Zephyr decided to "work off" the rest of his irritation by putting Yoriichi through some intense combat drills.
And, well, it worked—his mood did improve.
Yoriichi, on the other hand, could barely move afterward, his body aching as he staggered to his room. Still… his bed had never felt more comfortable.
The next morning, sunlight streamed into Yoriichi's room.
Before he could even wake fully, Zephyr burst in, tossing something his way. A neatly folded Marine uniform landed right on his bed.
"That's for you," Zephyr said gruffly. "I had it made this morning. You're a Marine now—you can't keep wearing your own clothes."
"Get dressed, eat breakfast, and we'll head out."
With that, he shut the door and left.
Yoriichi blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes before picking up the uniform. The fabric felt crisp and new in his hands. That woke him right up. He quickly got dressed, washed up, grabbed his sword, and joined Zephyr for breakfast.
After the meal, they set out for the Navy Academy.
Located within Marine Headquarters, the academy wasn't unfamiliar to Yoriichi—he'd visited once before, though only briefly. He didn't know much about its inner workings.
When they arrived, the cadets were assembled on the training grounds, lined up for morning drills.
The instructor leading them was a young officer in a training uniform, probably in his early thirties. He didn't wear visible rank insignia, but his presence was sharp. Yoriichi found him oddly familiar, though he couldn't immediately place where he'd seen him before.
There were over two hundred cadets present—and among them, Yoriichi spotted a familiar face.
"Cyrus?"
"So he didn't follow Kuzan after all—he joined the Navy Academy?"
The two locked eyes, both equally surprised.
Zephyr walked Yoriichi up to the front lines and greeted the training instructor before gesturing toward him.
"This is our academy's swordsmanship instructor, Victor. He also oversees physical training for the cadets."
"Yoriichi, you two should know each other."
With that reminder, Yoriichi finally remembered—the man in front of him was the same instructor he'd encountered before. Victor clearly recognized him too; his eyelid twitched involuntarily.
"Instructor Victor," Yoriichi greeted politely, smiling. "My name's Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Please take care of me."
Victor's face stiffened, but he gave a curt nod.
Zephyr, however, ignored their awkward exchange, clapping Yoriichi on the back and turning to the assembled cadets.
"This kid's name is Yoriichi Tsugikuni," he announced, his voice carrying across the grounds.
"From today onward, he's one of you—a full-fledged Marine."
"He's twelve years old. You're all older than him, so treat him well and look after him in daily life."
He grinned wickedly. "And just to be clear, I said in daily life. When it comes to combat—he's the strongest among you!"
"So then—anyone here not convinced? Step forward if you're feeling confident!"
"Oh, and one more thing—he's joining as a Seaman Third Class."
"But!" Zephyr's grin widened. "Anyone who manages to defeat him—no matter your current rank—gets promoted one level!"
He'd thrown the boy straight into a pit of wolves, deliberately stirring the crowd. A little chaos, he figured, would make Yoriichi's academy life far more… interesting.
Yoriichi blinked in brief surprise, then smiled faintly, understanding Zephyr's intent. He drew his sword and stepped calmly to the front. His expression was serene—cold and composed, betraying no emotion.
That quiet confidence alone was enough to ignite an uproar among the cadets.
(End of Chapter)
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