Chapter 18: Promotion to HQ
Meanwhile, at the West Blue 133rd Branch training ground.
Garon stood in the center, Black Blade: Eight Desolations slung across his back. Thirty-some new recruits sat in a semi-circle around him. Sweat poured down their young faces, but not one of them dared to lift a hand to wipe it away. Every eye was locked on the figure in the center.
"Watch closely." Garon slowly raised his right hand, palm facing up.
The air suddenly distorted. Countless fine, shimmering particles materialized from the void, dancing in his palm before condensing into a pure-white orb of light.
The recruits held their breath as one. Some even flinched backward, anticipating the power.
"The essence of vibration is..."
The orb suddenly collapsed.
In an instant, the ground around Garon rippled like the surface of the sea. The wooden training dummies in the yard were silently disintegrated into fine dust.
The terrifying part was that the cloud of flying wood dust, just as it was about to hit the recruits' faces, suddenly froze in mid-air, as if held by an invisible hand.
"Control."
As Garon pulled back his fist, the cloud of suspended dust fell harmlessly to the ground.
The dead silence lasted for three seconds, then erupted into a deafening cheer.
"That was amazing!"
"Is that the power of a Logia?!"
"Warrant Officer Garon, please take me as your disciple!"
A small smile played on Garon's lips. He was about to respond when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone in the shadows at the edge of the training ground.
Commander Asahi was frantically waving his short, plump arms, for all the world like a beached seal.
"Continue training," Garon said to the recruits, waving them off. By the time he turned and walked into the shadows, his smile had vanished.
As he approached, Asahi shot forward in a short dash, his round body nearly colliding with Garon's chest.
"Garon! It's done! It's really done!" Asahi's voice was a low hiss, but he couldn't keep the tremor out of it. "It's a direct transfer order, signed by Fleet Admiral Kong himself!"
He fumbled out a gold-stamped document, his fingers shaking. "Look at this!"
Marine Headquarters Special Summons Order
Summoned: Garon Reginald Sigma
Rank Confirmed: HQ Warrant Officer
Direct Superior: Marine HQ Vice Admiral Zephyr
Garon's pupils contracted slightly. The bright red Fleet Admiral's seal in the bottom-right corner looked like a drop of solidified blood.
"So it's done," Garon said, unable to hide his own satisfaction.
Seeing this, Asahi composed himself, puffed out his chest, and gave a comically serious salute. "HQ Warrant Officer Garon, our 'Star of West Blue,' hello! I am Asahi, Commander of the West Blue 133rd Branch!"
"Haha, you," Garon laughed, patting the short, chubby man on the shoulder. He then continued, "My rank didn't change?"
"No, but that's just those bastards at HQ looking down on us from West Blue. They actually said that someone from West Blue must have a 'warped' sense of justice, and they wanted to send you to the Academy for a year of 'justice theory'!"
"Academy theory?!" Garon's eyes narrowed.
"That was the plan! But Vice Admiral Zephyr personally argued with the Fleet Admiral about it! He slammed his fist on the desk and said..." Asahi deliberately lowered his voice, mimicking Zephyr's deep growl. "'That kind of bureaucratic, useless course will only stifle a true warrior!'"
Garon raised an eyebrow. "Vice Admiral Zephyr really said that?"
"It's the gospel truth! My old classmate in the South Blue branch heard it with his own ears! And now you're being assigned directly under Vice Admiral Zephyr's command!"
At this point, Asahi himself looked a little puzzled. "But Garon, my boy, when did you get in with Vice Admiral Zephyr? I heard he isn't married... you aren't... his illegitimate son from West Blue, are you?!"
"Illegitimate son?" Garon sneered, his fingers brushing the bandages on his black blade. "I almost wish I was!"
"Haha." Asahi gave a sheepish laugh and took half a step back, suddenly snapping to attention again. "In any case, congratulations on your promotion to Marine HQ Warrant Officer!"
His voice suddenly shot up an octave, drawing the attention of the recruits in the yard. "West Blue is finally going to have an officer at HQ!"
Garon did not return the salute. His gaze passed over Asahi's round shoulder, looking far into the distance, in the direction of Marineford.
...
Three days later, at the port of West Blue's 133rd Branch.
The sea breeze was gentle, carrying its salty, humid scent. The port was packed with Marine soldiers who had come to see him off.
Commander Asahi stood at the very front, his chubby face a mask of exaggerated, streaming tears. He clutched a crumpled handkerchief, honking into it every few seconds.
"Garon! You have to promise you'll come back and visit West Blue!" Asahi yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice choked with sobs. "The 133rd Branch will always be your home! Go show those bastards at HQ what a man from West Blue is made of!"
Garon stood on the deck of the warship, his back to the port, Eight Desolations still slung securely on his back.
He didn't look back. He just raised a hand and gave a small wave in acknowledgment.
The warship slowly pulled away from the port, the cheers from the shore gradually fading.
Garon's gaze was fixed on the distant horizon. He felt little sadness at his departure, only a burning anticipation for the future.
"Marine Headquarters... Now, it truly begins," he muttered, his fingertips lightly tracing the hilt of his blade.
...
Two days later, on an unnamed patch of sea in the West Blue.
The warship sailed smoothly over the azure surface. Garon stood at the bow, his eyes closed, feeling the sea breeze.
Suddenly, his brow furrowed. A strange, powerful feeling washed over him.
"Hm?" He opened his eyes, his gaze instantly sharpening as he scanned the horizon.
There, where the sea met the sky, a rugged-looking ship was slowly approaching. It wasn't particularly large, but its lines were hard and powerful, with an ordinary-looking bow.
The most striking thing about it... was that it flew no flag.
It was not a pirate's Jolly Roger, nor the flag of a merchant vessel, nor a Marine standard.
The man commanding Garon's transport was an HQ Ensign, and they were on a restricted, Marine-only sea route. The anomaly was spotted immediately.
"Report!" a lookout ran to the HQ Ensign. "Unidentified vessel, dead ahead! Shall we move to intercept and inspect?"
The Ensign didn't answer immediately. He, like Garon, had his binoculars locked onto the mysterious ship.
Two figures stood on its bow.
One of them was almost absurdly tall, easily over five meters, with a physique like a mountain of muscle. He wore an open white captain's coat, revealing several vicious-looking scars on his bare chest.
His long, golden hair was unbound, and he sported an iconic, crescent-shaped white mustache. His eyes, however, were surprisingly calm, almost lazy.
Standing next to him was a younger, lanky man with sharp eyes and a golden "pineapple head."
"That's...!" Garon's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
Even with no flag, even before a single word was spoken, Garon instantly recognized the man.
Young, in his absolute prime... a man with "invincible" written all over his face.
The only man who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Roger after the end of the Rocks era.
"Whitebeard" Edward Newgate!!