"Yoriichi, our first assignment… is working in the boiler room?"
"Doesn't this branch's colonel think a little too little of us?"
In the engine room of the Marines' 133rd Branch warship, Cyrus—bare-chested and drenched in sweat—shoveled another load of solid fuel into the roaring furnace. He shut the heavy door with a clang and sighed, turning to Yoriichi Tsugukuni beside him.
"Whether he's underestimating us or not… how would I know?"
Yoriichi's tone was calm as always. Wearing the standard blue-and-white sailor uniform of a Marine seaman, he held a shovel in gloved hands, gazing quietly at the blazing firelight reflecting in his eyes.
"It's my first time out at sea as a Marine Third Class too. Technically, that's a combat rank—we shouldn't be doing this kind of work. But maybe, on this ship, it is part of our duty."
When Yoriichi had imagined his internship voyage, he thought it would be something like training under Vice Admiral Garp—fighting pirates, training when off duty, maybe helping with lookout or patrols.
He had never expected this.
The moment he and Cyrus boarded, they were treated like errand boys—sent straight to the ship's engine room to stoke the boilers.
Marine warships, unlike the sail-powered ships of ordinary pirates, relied on massive boilers to generate propulsion.
The fuel was a kind of black, stone-like solid—similar to coal but heavier, denser, and with a much stronger burn. It must have been a special material unique to this world.
To keep the ship running, Yoriichi and Cyrus had to continuously shovel this fuel into the furnace. Only because Cyrus was fast and strong could the two of them manage to take brief rests in between shifts.
"Part of our duty? That can't be right," Cyrus muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "I remember the crew structure on Marine warships—there are assigned laborers for this kind of job."
"We may be Third Class, but we're also cadets from the Academy. If our internship is just… stoking boilers, then what exactly are we supposed to be learning?"
"Besides, if we're doing this, then where did the laborers go?"
"When I was on Garp's ship, there were people specifically for that!"
During his time at the Marine Academy, Cyrus had made a point to learn about naval operations. He'd also asked around among officers and noncoms about life aboard warships.
He'd even spent time aboard Garp's vessel while returning to Headquarters. Back then, as a Seaman Third Class, his duties were lookout, patrol, sail handling—mundane but never this. Never boiler work.
Apparently, he hadn't yet caught the meaning behind Yoriichi's words. He frowned.
"Still, it doesn't make sense…"
"Who knows," Yoriichi said softly, his voice low and even. Then, after a pause, he added,
"Cyrus—don't ask about this again."
"And another thing: whether it's on this ship or once we reach the 133rd Branch, don't tell anyone we're from the Academy."
Cyrus blinked, puzzled. Yoriichi's tone carried quiet certainty, but no explanation.
Just as Cyrus opened his mouth to ask why, the heavy steel door of the engine room swung open.
A young Marine—around 175 cm tall and wearing a sailor's uniform—stepped inside. His eyes swept over Yoriichi and Cyrus briefly before he smiled.
"So you two are the new recruits assigned to the 133rd Branch?"
Yoriichi and Cyrus exchanged a look and nodded.
"Heh, straight from Headquarters, huh? Must be some real elites."
"Name's Joseph Kaso, Sergeant of the 133rd Branch. From now on, we're crewmates."
"And you two are?"
The young sergeant introduced himself with easy confidence, his grin good-natured.
Yoriichi smiled slightly and replied:
"Nice to meet you, Sergeant Joseph. I'm Yoriichi Tsugukuni, age seventeen, Seaman Third Class."
Cyrus froze for a second.
He knew perfectly well—Yoriichi was only twelve.
Despite Yoriichi's height of nearly 170 cm, his calm presence and maturity far beyond his years, Cyrus still couldn't mistake his true age.
He didn't understand why Yoriichi would lie, but he also wasn't foolish enough to question him here.
Recovering quickly, he followed up smoothly:
"Sergeant Joseph, sir. My name's Cyrus, age seventeen, Seaman Third Class."
Joseph Kaso nodded, then suddenly grinned and teased,
"Oh! Yoriichi Tsugukuni, you really do look young—such a baby face!"
"And you, Cyrus—you've got the build of a bull! Hard to believe you're only seventeen, hahaha!"
Yoriichi merely smiled politely, neither warm nor cold. Cyrus scratched his head awkwardly, looking every bit the honest, straightforward man he was.
"Yoriichi, Cyrus," Joseph continued with apparent sincerity, "from now on we're crewmates—friends, even. Let's make sure we work well together."
He paused for a moment, then tilted his head curiously.
"By the way, Yoriichi, Cyrus—how'd you end up joining the Marines at Headquarters? And why were you assigned to our 133rd Branch out in the West Blue?"
Cyrus opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, Yoriichi chuckled softly.
"Sergeant Joseph, to tell you the truth, we used to be bounty hunters. About a month ago, we ran into a shipwreck and were rescued by a Marine rear admiral."
"To repay that kindness, we decided to join the Marines as Third-Class Seamen. As for why we were sent to the 133rd Branch—well, maybe they're just short on hands. Haha."
His laugh was light, casual—believable.
Cyrus blinked at him, puzzled by the lie but wise enough not to question it. He nodded in quiet agreement, going along with Yoriichi's story.
Joseph's eyes flicked, almost imperceptibly, to the sword at Yoriichi's waist and the blade strapped across Cyrus's back. He nodded, smiling faintly.
"Bounty hunters, huh? Well, the Marines lead a safer life than you lot ever did."
"You made the right choice."
He straightened up and waved a hand.
"Anyway, I've got other things to take care of. We'll talk later. Oh—and I'll have a word with Captain Hagg about you two. If you really were bounty hunters, it's a waste to have you stuck doing boiler duty."
"But for now, just hang in there. I'll see what I can do."
With that, Joseph Kaso gave them a friendly wave and walked out of the engine room.
Yoriichi and Cyrus both smiled faintly and saw him off.
When the door closed behind him, Yoriichi's expression faded back to calm neutrality. He turned toward the furnace, opened the heavy iron door, and with an easy motion shoveled two more loads of fuel into the flames.
The fire roared. The glow painted his face crimson.
Cyrus looked at him, hesitated, then sighed quietly and turned away, swallowing the questions burning in his mind.
Meanwhile, the door to the 133rd Branch warship's captain's office swung open with a creak.
A thick cloud of cigar smoke rolled out into the corridor before the door shut again behind Joseph Kaso, who stepped quickly inside.
Behind the desk—or rather, slouched across the sofa with his boots propped on the coffee table—was Colonel Kane, commander of the 133rd Branch.
He had a cigar between his lips, smoke curling lazily from his mouth as his half-lidded eyes stared at the ceiling. The picture of indifference.
The difference from the disciplined, upright man who had stood before Fleet Admiral Sengoku just days ago was almost laughable.
"Well?"
Catching Joseph out of the corner of his eye, Kane's gaze sharpened. He tilted his head toward him slightly.
"What did you find?"
Joseph smirked, scratching the back of his head.
"Heh, Colonel—nothing suspicious. Just two rookies. Said they used to be bounty hunters and joined the Marines last month."
Kane's expression didn't change. He simply nodded once, slowly.
But Joseph's eyes gleamed with excitement as he added in a low, eager tone:
"Oh, and, uh… that red-haired kid's weapon—it looks really fine. The sheath alone looks like it could fetch a fortune. Once we reach the West Blue, maybe we could—"
He didn't get to finish.
Kane's hand shot out like lightning, fisting Joseph's collar and yanking him close.
"You said… that kid's weapon?" he hissed.
"How good?"
Joseph froze, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.
"I–I mean, just the scabbard looked valuable, sir. I didn't see the blade, but if it matches the sheath… it's worth a lot."
Kane's grip tightened once more—then abruptly released.
He shoved Joseph back and turned toward the window, his shadow framed against the glow of the setting sun filtering through the smoke.
He stood there for a long moment, silent. Then—
"Hah."
A cold, mirthless laugh escaped his lips.
"Bounty hunters, huh?"
"Do they take me for an idiot?"
His voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur, the faintest edge of cruelty in his tone.
"If they want to play games…"
He turned his head, eyes glinting through the haze.
"…then I'll play along."
(End of Chapter)
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