"'Sorry'…? Did he just apologize? He refused Teacher Zephyr?"
"What a chance! If only it were me—why does someone like that even exist?!"
A Rear Admiral nearly spat blood on the spot. He'd applied for Vice Admiral multiple times and been rejected each time—yet this kid was offered it for free… and turned it down?
Even the ever-composed Zephyr looked momentarily awkward.This was a first: to be refused, in public, before Marines and students alike—and refused a prize others bled to obtain.
Does he think Vice Admiral is beneath him? Zephyr wondered.
He clenched his jaw. "Then this. Join the Marines as a Vice Admiral, and I'll make sure that within a few months you're promoted to Admiral."
Black Arm Zephyr showed his hand.
To him, the only explanation for Gil's refusal was disdain for the rank. A youth under twenty, already at Admiral level; a youth who almost certainly had a powerful house behind him. A man like that might be a young master—or a next-generation heir forged by a great clan. Asking such a person to start at Vice Admiral was a hard sell.
"Admiral, huh?" Gil's eyes flickered—interested, if only for a second.
Zephyr caught the shift instantly. "Yes. Admiral. Garp keeps refusing promotion; knowing him, he'll refuse again. That leaves a vacancy. How about it?"
Around them, Marines reeled anew.
"An Admiral…?"
"He just went from Vice Admiral to Admiral in one conversation?"
"A kid becomes Admiral that easily? Tell me I'm dreaming."
"Did I mishear…?"
Shell-shocked, they could only gape at Zephyr's hunger for talent.
"Teacher Zephyr, are you serious?" a Colonel blurted.
Zephyr turned his head. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
Faced with that weighty stare, the Colonel fell silent.
"Apologies," Gil said at last, after a brief think. "I still can't accept."
"Why?" Zephyr asked, genuinely puzzled. What would move this boy, if not rank?
"Name your commission," he pressed. "What do you want?"
"Rank isn't the issue," Gil said evenly. "You misunderstand me. I'm refusing not because the offer is too small—but because of me."
"Because of you?" Zephyr frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I'm lazy by nature," Gil said with a half-smile. "The Marines aren't my style. I like freedom, not a uniform."
"I see." Regret shadowed Zephyr's eyes. The answer was clear enough.
This youth wouldn't be recruited.
A golden carp is not meant for a pond. This one would not stay small for long.
"I hope," Zephyr said quietly, "you never become an enemy of the Marines… or a pirate." He lifted a hand, dismissing his men. Then he led Gil below decks, where the youth promptly slept like a baby.
A few days later, Zephyr's warship made port at the Sabaody Archipelago.