The Navy Academy might call itself a school, but in truth, it was a military unit through and through. Its nature as a division of the Marines far outweighed its pretense as an educational institution.
In a place like this, humility and politeness wouldn't help Yoriichi earn respect.
There was only one thing that could secure his footing here—
Strength. Strength. And more strength.
The moment Zephyr pushed him to the front of the formation, Yoriichi immediately understood his teacher's intent. Standing calmly before the gathered cadets, he accepted without protest the title Zephyr had given him—"the strongest."
The restless young cadets muttered among themselves, their gazes fixed on the red-haired boy who stood so quietly, so confidently before them. Yet not a single one stepped forward.
Every cadet here had been handpicked from the Four Seas. They were young, yes—but they weren't fools.
Even if they had never seen Yoriichi in action, the fact that Zephyr himself called him the strongest was no small thing. That title wouldn't have been given without reason.
So while the air buzzed with whispers, everyone was waiting—for someone else to make the first move.
Defeat the red-haired kid and you'd be promoted a full rank?
If promotions were that easy, the Marines would be overflowing with generals by now.
Instead of rushing in, the cadets grew more cautious.
Contrary to Zephyr's expectations of an eager response, no one moved. His brow furrowed in irritation.
"No challengers?" he barked.
"You're all fine letting this brat stand over your heads without a word of protest?"
"What a bunch of spineless fools!"
"If no one steps forward… then everyone will be demoted one rank!"
His voice boomed across the grounds.
Zephyr's feelings were complicated—yes, Yoriichi was his student, but so were these cadets. His goal wasn't to humiliate them, but to help Yoriichi establish himself through his own strength—and to remind Yoriichi, too, that the academy was full of capable people.
But now, with everyone shrinking back and waiting for someone else to act, Zephyr's little stage play was falling apart.
After several long moments with still no volunteers, he decided to turn up the heat.
The moment he threatened collective demotion, the training grounds erupted with nervous murmurs. The cadets could smell trouble.
"Hey, Cyrus," one of them whispered, elbowing the tall, fair-haired youth beside him. "Why don't you give it a try?"
"You've only just joined, but your strength's nothing to scoff at! I'd say the rank of Seaman Third Class doesn't suit you at all."
"Yeah, Cyrus, go for it! Take that redhead down and you'll be promoted straight to Second Class. Out on missions, promotions never come this easy!"
The one urging him on was a young Marine with a cross-shaped scar on his chin—Kibin, a sergeant.
He wasn't especially high-ranked, but he was well-known throughout the academy. The reason was simple—within his first year at the Navy Academy, he'd already mastered one of the Marine Rokushiki techniques: Tekkai (Iron Body).
At an academy where the minimum entry requirement was a power level of eighty—excluding Devil Fruit users—Kibin was nearly unmatched.
He also happened to share a dorm room with Cyrus, and the two got along reasonably well.
But the moment Kibin made his suggestion, Cyrus froze. He was just opening his mouth to decline when the surrounding cadets began to crowd around, voices rising in "encouragement."
"Kibin's right, Cyrus! You've got the lowest rank among us right now—this is the perfect chance to climb up!"
Their grins were too wide, their tone too eager.
And Cyrus, the honest and straightforward man he was, didn't yet realize—
he'd just been volunteered as the sacrificial lamb.
"Yeah, that's right! Cyrus, get up there and teach that brat a lesson—we'll be cheering for you! A promotion like this doesn't come twice! I'm a lieutenant, so I'll sit this one out and let you have the glory."
"Hahaha, Lieutenant Shun's right—go for it, Cyrus! You've got my full support!"
Cyrus had wanted to refuse, but with all his comrades suddenly so enthusiastic, pressing in and slapping his back, the young man's face flushed red. He wasn't the type who could easily say no.
Seeing everyone so "supportive," he could only grit his teeth, sling his sword over his shoulder, and step out from the crowd.
The moment he did, cheers erupted from the watching cadets. The air was full of laughter, teasing, and the pounding of boots.
Yoriichi quietly watched it all unfold, a sigh rising in his heart.
Cyrus… that honest fool. They've just pushed him out as the sacrificial lamb.
Zephyr, meanwhile, couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips. He strode over to Cyrus and gave the young man a firm slap on the shoulder.
"Good! At least you've got the guts to stand up!" he said approvingly. "That's what being a Marine is all about! Your name's Cyrus, right? I like you—keep it up!"
He gave Cyrus a few hearty pats on the back before stepping aside, clearing the space for their match. The cadets, thrilled at the show about to begin, quickly backed away several meters, forming a wide circle around the two.
Yoriichi faced Cyrus calmly. Before the nervous young man could even greet him, Yoriichi spoke first:
"Let's just start. Don't hold back."
Cyrus swallowed his greeting.
Then, with a deep breath, he drew his greatsword from his back and tightened his grip. He knew full well he didn't stand a chance against Yoriichi—but he'd already stepped forward. There was no retreating now.
Pride burned quietly in his chest.
It had been over a month since they'd left Dressrosa. During that time, he'd trained diligently aboard Vice Admiral Garp's ship. Now, he wanted to see for himself just how wide the gap between him and Yoriichi truly was.
After all… he was a swordsman too.
"Be careful, Yoriichi-san," he warned.
Then he kicked off the ground with a sharp thud, surging forward. His greatsword came down in a clean, forceful arc—no hesitation, no mercy.
"Whoa! Impressive! That Cyrus guy's no pushover!" exclaimed Kibin, eyes lighting up. Though they were roommates, he'd never actually seen Cyrus fight until now.
The other cadets who had egged Cyrus on also nodded, murmuring in agreement.
Yoriichi saw the strike coming. Instinct urged him to counter, but then he paused—an idea flashing through his mind.
The corners of his lips curved ever so slightly.
Instead of retaliating, he leapt back, "barely" dodging the blow.
Cyrus blinked in surprise. He'd seen Yoriichi fight before—his speed and ferocity were like lightning itself. For him to evade instead of strike back… something was off.
Zephyr, who had been watching with crossed arms, raised an eyebrow as well. Then, understanding dawned on his face, and he gave a sly side-glance toward the cheering cadets at the edge of the field.
Within moments, the air was filled with roaring encouragement.
Yoriichi seemed to be barely holding his own under Cyrus's relentless swings. More than once, his blade narrowly deflected the incoming strikes, and on one occasion, Cyrus even forced him several meters back.
When Yoriichi did counterattack, his blows were restrained—timed only when Cyrus's strength had waned, making it look as though he was relying solely on agility to keep up.
To the watching Marines, the two appeared evenly matched.
The crowd's excitement surged.
Cyrus might not win—but clearly, Yoriichi wasn't invincible either.
In that instant, a dangerous thought began to spread through the ranks like wildfire.
The red-haired prodigy might actually be beatable.
And if he could be beaten…
Then their chance at promotion had just arrived.
(End of Chapter)
⭐ Enjoying the story?You can read ahead and support the translations by joining my Patreon!Your support helps me update faster and take on more projects.Thank you for reading!
Read up to 50 chapters ahead!
patreon.com/AminaSims
PS: Even if you don't intend to pay for advance chapters you can join as a free member to get access to updates and any news on current and future translations (Please join guys I really enjoy seeing those numbers go up.)🙏