Rosinante giving up so easily took even Yoriichi Tsugikuni by surprise—let alone Zephyr, who never imagined Sengoku's adopted son would fold so quickly.
Zephyr hadn't seen much of Rosinante before, but Sengoku had always gone on and on about how thoughtful, disciplined, and determined the boy was. How he strove tirelessly to become an exceptional Marine.
But seeing Rosinante like this today, Zephyr couldn't help but smirk—though his face quickly darkened. The smirk was for Sengoku, who clearly doted on his adopted son too much. But the sternness returned because, when it came to training, Zephyr was nothing if not serious.
Even if Rosinante wasn't yet a Marine.
Even if he wasn't one of Zephyr's cadets.
Before Yoriichi could even open his mouth to encourage Rosinante to keep going, Zephyr's voice rang out, sharp as a whip.
"Rosinante!"
"Stand up!"
"The Marines aren't playing house—on the battlefield, death can come at any moment!"
"If you slack off during training, you'll get killed by pirates out there. Do you want Sengoku to bury his son with his own hands?!"
"You're Sengoku's boy, aren't you? Then stop acting like a coward and get up!"
The sudden outburst startled Rosinante, who had been slumped on the tatami mat. At Zephyr's words, he scrambled to his feet and responded in a panic.
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"I'll get right back to it!"
Zephyr's authority as a former admiral carried real weight in the Navy. Rosinante, flustered and wide-eyed, picked up his bamboo sword, let out a loud yell, and charged at Yoriichi again.
"Oh~?"
"Now that's more like it. See? You can do it."
No sooner had Zephyr offered that praise than Yoriichi sidestepped Rosinante's strike with effortless grace, then dropped low and delivered a precise tap to Rosinante's ankle with his bokken. With a yelp of pain, Rosinante stumbled forward and crashed to the floor.
"Ow—ow ow ow!"
Yoriichi had struck just a bit harder than before. The pain would stir Rosinante's temper, and that anger would fuel his fighting spirit.
Sure enough, Rosinante gritted his teeth, clutching his bamboo sword tight as he pushed himself up again—eyes burning, ready for another round.
...
All morning long, Rosinante sparred with Yoriichi, with barely a break in between.
For Yoriichi, this sort of training wasn't particularly helpful anymore. But for Rosinante, it was another story entirely.
In truth, Rosinante had a strong will. He just had a bad habit of slacking off when left to his own devices. And Sengoku—ever the indulgent father—rarely held him accountable. When Rosinante played dead, Sengoku let him.
As a result, Rosinante's growth had been painfully slow over the years. Even now, at age twelve, his strength was only slightly above that of a common child. Once grown, even in his prime, his combat ability—if you set aside his Devil Fruit powers—probably wouldn't have exceeded a power level of 20.
By noon, with his muscles cooling and the adrenaline gone, Rosinante felt sore all over. His arms trembled so badly from fatigue that he could barely hold his spoon.
"Hey hey hey…"
"Yoriichi, I've never been through training this brutal."
"I'm still a growing boy, you know. Isn't this gonna mess with my development?"
"I won't end up short, will I? You do realize you're kind of short, right? Bet it's from all that overtraining."
Even with his body aching all over, Rosinante's mouth just wouldn't quit. From the moment he sat down to eat, he'd been chattering nonstop.
"..."
"My height is within the standard range."
Yoriichi cast him a sidelong glance as he replied. Honestly though, Rosinante wasn't wrong to speak so boldly—despite being only twelve, the kid was already pushing two meters tall. Towering, even by Navy standards.
Yoriichi, on the other hand, had a more modest stature—just about 170 centimeters.
Faced with Rosinante's remark, Yoriichi found himself momentarily at a loss for words.
"You're already tall enough. Being too tall doesn't help much anyway," Yoriichi muttered between bites, mouth half-full.
"No no no," Rosinante shook his head emphatically. "I'd rather be tall, thank you very much. I don't want to end up a shorty."
Yoriichi knew he wasn't being insulted—at least, not intentionally—but the words still rubbed him the wrong way.
This world was different, after all. People here were huge by the standards of Yoriichi's previous world. Folks like Rosinante, standing nearly two meters tall, were a dime a dozen in the Navy. And that's not even counting the giants. Just among regular humans, there were plenty who dwarfed Yoriichi.
As the two chatted over lunch, the mess hall door suddenly slid open with a sharp—
"Screeeech!"
Zephyr stepped inside, tray in hand. And following close behind was a tall, broad-shouldered middle-aged man draped in a coat of justice.
He was carrying his own tray, piled high with a precarious mountain of food—so tall, it completely obscured his face.
Both Yoriichi and Rosinante looked up in sync, curiosity lighting their eyes as they tried to see who it was behind Zephyr.
"Yo~!"
"Yoriichi, you little rascal!"
The man poked his head around the food pile and grinned wide. It was Garp. Without even acknowledging Zephyr, he plopped down heavily into a chair and thumped his overloaded tray onto the table.
"V-Vice Admiral Garp?!"
"Hello, Vice Admiral Garp," Rosinante blurted out, clearly recognizing him.
Yoriichi offered a polite greeting as well.
"Bwahahahaha!"
"No need to be so formal!"
"I heard Zephyr was cooking today, so I came to scrounge a meal. Looks like I timed it just right! Hahahaha!"
Garp plopped down next to Rosinante, chuckling as he helped himself to the food on his tray. He looked genuinely delighted.
"It's your fault, you rascal. Showing up without a word—I didn't make enough food."
Zephyr took a seat beside Yoriichi, the corners of his eyes creasing in a smile, though his words carried a trace of mock complaint. His own plate was piled high with food, but after sitting down, he began handing portions off to Yoriichi and Rosinante, leaving barely any for himself.
"Garp, weren't you out tracking Roger? What are you doing back so soon?"
"It's only been what—ten days since you left? Not even a full month."
"Don't tell me... you lost him again?"
Zephyr's tone turned teasing.
Within the Navy, Garp had always been an unorthodox figure. Despite his immense achievements, Kong had tried several times to promote him to admiral, only to be flatly refused each time.
As a result, Vice Admiral Garp never operated like the others of his rank. He rarely ventured into the New World, instead focusing his attention on the Roger Pirates in the East Blue. Unless summoned for critical operations at headquarters, he was usually busy chasing Roger down.
Of course, while he was at it, he'd take care of any pirates he happened to come across.
Thanks to Garp's relentless pursuit, the East Blue remained the most peaceful and least pirate-infested of the four seas, with remarkably stable public order.
But not long ago, the Roger Pirates had made landfall at Sabaody Archipelago, passed through Fishman Island, and entered the New World.
Upon hearing this, Garp had immediately set sail in pursuit—yet here he was, back already.
"Tch!"
"You know what the New World's like—weather changes on a whim. I almost had them, but a sudden downpour rolled in and I lost track of them."
"Our surveillance ships couldn't find a trace of Roger for days, so I decided to return early."
"Besides, I wanted to see how you're training this kid."
As he spoke, Garp's gaze swept over to Yoriichi. He gave him a quick once-over, then casually grabbed a piece of meat and stuffed it into his mouth.
"So you lost him again."
"You used to lose track of him all the time back in the East Blue. Now that he's upgraded his ship in Water 7, escaping must be even easier."
"And with the New World's weather being what it is... I'd say you'll never catch Roger in this lifetime."
Zephyr scoffed between bites, throwing in a jab without missing a beat.
"Meh, no need to worry about me—I'll catch him eventually."
"He's been acting differently lately, like he's got a clear objective now. Moving more frequently too."
"I'm still not sure what exactly he's after... but I think I'll find out soon enough."
As Garp and Zephyr bantered, Yoriichi listened intently. Hearing Garp's words, he had a good idea of what Roger was pursuing.
It had to be the Poneglyphs.
Roger had remained active in the East Blue for years. This sudden burst of movement likely meant he'd discovered he was terminally ill and was now racing to fulfill his dream of sailing around the world.
Having made it to the New World, Roger had probably already seen the Poneglyph on Fishman Island. His next goal would be to gather all the historical texts and reach Raftel.
While these thoughts swirled in Yoriichi's mind, Garp—who had barely been seated for a moment—suddenly stood up and called out:
"Hey, kid—come on. Let's see if you've made any progress."
"I was the one who brought you into the Navy, after all. That makes you my responsibility."
"If you let your talent go to waste, I'll be very disappointed!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Startled, Yoriichi snapped out of his thoughts and turned to look at Garp—only to be stunned.
All the food in front of Garp had vanished.
He had clearly been chatting with Zephyr the whole time—so when did he finish it all?!
"Hey, don't just sit there daydreaming. You're done eating too, right? Come on—time to walk it off!"
Garp laughed heartily as he strode over, grabbed Yoriichi by the arm, and started dragging him toward the courtyard.
"Hey! Garp, wait up!"
Zephyr tried to stop him, flustered by Garp's urgency. It was normal for Garp to want to assess Yoriichi's growth—but could he at least let them finish their meal first?
Just because Garp had wolfed down his food didn't mean everyone else had!
But as Zephyr reached out to grab Garp's shoulder, Garp effortlessly batted his hand away.
"So willful…" Yoriichi sighed inwardly. Then he turned to Zephyr and said:
"It's alright, Teacher Zephyr. I've finished eating anyway. Might as well stretch my legs a bit."
"Don't worry."
And with that, Garp had already marched him out into the courtyard.
"Alright, come at me. Let me see how much you've improved."
Standing at the center of the courtyard, Garp curled his finger toward Yoriichi in a beckoning gesture. At his words, Yoriichi turned and walked over to the nearby dojo, fetched a bamboo sword, and returned to stand before Garp.
On the veranda at the edge of the courtyard, Rosinante was holding a tray piled high with food. While stuffing his mouth with snacks, he mumbled encouragement, voice muffled by his chewing:
"Hey, Yoriichi, go get him!"
"You better last a little longer this time—hahaha!"
Despite shouting "Go get him!", Rosinante's face was filled with glee at Yoriichi's impending doom.
"I'm starting."
Yoriichi didn't even glance at Rosinante. He simply acknowledged Garp with a calm nod, took a breath, and charged forward with his bamboo sword.
"Oh! A frontal assault?"
"Not bad, now that's what a Marine should look like!"
Garp let out a chuckle, clearly pleased.
But as he spoke, Yoriichi had already closed the distance. His body dipped low, and his bamboo sword swept upward from below—aiming straight for Garp's chest.
"Whoa! That's fast!"
Watching from the side, Rosinante didn't even catch when Yoriichi drew the sword. By the time his eyes tracked the movement, Garp was already gripping the bamboo blade in his hand.
The cheerful expression on Garp's face instantly soured. He furrowed his brow in irritation.
"Stop!"
"Why are you still attacking like this?!"
"It's been, what—nearly twenty days since I brought you back to the Navy?"
"With your physical capabilities, you should already be able to start learning the Navy's Six Styles. And with your potential, you ought to be grasping Haki by now!"
"So why… are you still this weak?!"
Garp called an abrupt halt after just one exchange. He studied Yoriichi for a moment, then turned to Zephyr and barked:
"Hey! I left this kid in your care."
"What the hell have you been teaching him?!"
"It's been over half a month and he's shown no real progress!"
Zephyr responded with a cold snort, retorting:
"What do you mean, no progress? Filling his head with knowledge is progress!"
"He's still young—mastering theory comes first."
"As for things like the Navy's Six Styles, there's plenty of time to learn that when he's older!"
Though Zephyr raised his voice, Garp immediately picked up on the underlying defensiveness in his tone.
Narrowing his eyes, Garp seemed to piece something together. He casually tossed the bamboo sword back to Yoriichi, then strolled over and slung an arm around Zephyr's shoulder, whispering:
"Was this... Kong's idea?"
A flash of insight—Garp had hit the mark. For all his brashness, he wasn't slow-witted like his grandson Luffy. Garp's impulsiveness didn't mean he lacked brains.
"You already figured it out—so why ask?"
Zephyr snorted again, clearly annoyed.
Garp nodded slightly, having confirmed his suspicion. He looked back at Yoriichi, and after a brief silence, shook his head and sighed:
"This won't do. At this rate, we'll never raise a strong Marine out of him."
"Next time I head out to sea, I'm taking this kid with me!"
The words had barely left his mouth when Zephyr instantly objected:
"No way! He's still too young. Besides, he's not even a proper Marine yet—you can't take him out to sea."
"That's an order!"
Garp's voice thundered as he cut Zephyr off:
"Don't be stupid! At this age, a real man should already be riding the waves!"
"Even Roger's ship has two brats around his age."
"If pirate kids can sail the seas, why the hell can't ours?! Huh?!"
"Orders? Orders my ass!"
"Next time I sail, he's coming with me! If anyone's got a problem with that, they can come say it to my face!"
"Hmph!"
With a final snort, Garp turned and stormed off, marching away from Zephyr's residence. Watching his retreating back, the furious look on Zephyr's face melted away, and he suddenly broke into a grin.
"Vice Admiral Garp really is easy to read."
Yoriichi, who had remained silent until now, noticed the smile on Zephyr's face and let out a soft sigh.
He had genuinely thought the two were on the verge of a real argument. But now, seeing that grin, Yoriichi realized he had underestimated things.
If he wasn't mistaken... Zephyr had just used Garp like a pawn.
"Hahahahaha!"
"It's all for your own good!"
"You can't become a strong Marine by just reading books!"
"That bastard came back at just the right time—hahahahaha!"
(End of Chapter)