Chapter 27: I, Garon, Have Sky-High Ideological Awareness!
"Ahem! My apologies. It's just... your stare was a little intense."
Garon cleared his throat, steering the conversation back on track. "I'm surprised Vice Admiral Garp even told you about that."
"It wasn't just him." Dragon sighed, his voice low. "This entire headquarters is talking about you right now. After all, to dare and challenge Whitebeard head-on, even forcing him to use his Haki Infusion... you've got guts."
Garon gave a slight laugh. "Having guts doesn't mean I have the strength. Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting here right now. I'd be at the bottom of the sea."
Dragon didn't respond. After a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, "Do you really believe... that justice can be 'late'?"
Garon narrowed his eyes.
The question was loaded with meaning.
The Dragon of this era must have already begun to question the World Government. Especially after the God Valley incident, where he had personally witnessed the cruelty of the Celestial Dragons... his faith in so-called "justice" must have already been shaken.
"I asked my father about your file. You were at God Valley."
"The World Nobles'... 'hunting game'..."
"I don't know if justice can be late," Garon suddenly cut Dragon off, speaking slowly. "But I do know that if the very people meant to execute justice begin to doubt themselves, then 'justice' truly becomes nothing but empty talk."
Hearing Garon's answer, Dragon's pupils contracted slightly.
He stared at him, his tone calm as he retorted, "The Marines exist to maintain order. But if the order itself is distorted... then what good is that so-called justice?"
The air in the room seemed to freeze.
Dragon's gaze deepened. He stared hard at Garon, as if trying to decipher the true meaning behind his words.
But Garon was no fool. Even without Observation Haki, as the user of the Logia Sky-Tremor Fruit, he could clearly sense... micro-vibrations.
For example, the ones coming from Zephyr, who was currently eavesdropping right below the left window!
And so, Garon feigned deep thought for a long moment before slowly speaking. "Then what about your justice?"
"You see it as distorted. But in my view, whether the Marines are 'just' or not depends entirely on who they serve and how they act, not on the abstract concept of 'order' itself.
"To chain the Marines to 'order' is to ignore the complexity of their function.
"Your real criticism should be directed at the power structure that abuses the Marines (hinting at the World Government), not at the core value of justice itself.
"Dragon, your father is the 'Hero of the Marines,' Vice Admiral Garp. The realization of our justice is a dynamic process. You can't negate its entire value just because the system is imperfect."
Faced with Garon's words, Dragon didn't press the issue. He just gave him one last, deep look, then turned and walked to the door.
As he left, he said softly, in a voice only Garon could hear, "I have no justice."
After the door closed, the office returned to silence.
...
Not long after the office door closed, the window on the left was pushed open from the outside.
Zephyr's figure vaulted nimbly into the room, his purple hair not moving an inch in the sea breeze. His eyes, now without his sunglasses, were fixed on Garon.
"Eavesdropping isn't a good habit, Vice Admiral Zephyr," Garon said without looking up, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk.
"Haha!" Zephyr huffed out a laugh and strode over to his own desk. "Testing a subordinate's ideological awareness is a superior's privilege." He put his sunglasses back on, his sharp gaze assessing Garon.
"Your answer... was satisfactory."
Seeing the corner of Zephyr's mouth turn up, Garon gave a mock-helpless shrug. "I was just telling the truth."
"It's rare because it's the truth." Zephyr tossed a file in front of Garon—the very matter he had left the office to handle. It was about some "rowdy" pirates, similar to the "Supernovas" of later years, but the term hadn't been coined yet.
"Most people, when faced with Dragon's line of questioning, either blindly agree or fiercely reject it.
"But you, Garon, you can see the essence of the problem. That's good.
"The Fleet Admiral was worried that, coming from West Blue, your concept of justice would be 'confused,' and even wanted to send you to the Academy to study...
"Heh. In my opinion, you're the one with the truly sound foundation!
"Origin isn't important. My judgment of character, I, Zephyr, am exceptionally accurate.
"You! Garon Reginald Sigma! Your ideological awareness of justice is sky-high!"
Garon ignored Zephyr's self-congratulatory hype and instead opened the file. He looked it over and then glanced up.
"So, Captain Dragon..."
"Just a lost little lamb," Zephyr cut him off, a rare note of pity in his voice. "Sigh. That Garp... so busy chasing Roger he can't even teach his own son properly."
At that thought, he walked over to Garon and clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "But you are different."
The "Black Arm" Vice Admiral was showing a level of sincere approval that was a far cry from his usual severity.
"After work this afternoon, Training Ground One." Zephyr removed his hand and adjusted his sunglasses. "It's time I showed you what true strength is."
Garon closed the file, a small smile playing on his lips. "Haki training?"
"Not training." Zephyr's voice was deep and powerful. "It's to make you understand that no matter how strong a Devil Fruit is, it's just an external tool.
"A true powerhouse..." He pointed to his own chest. "...draws strength from here."
"So... I'm going to get beaten up?"
"What kind of talk is that?! I'm having you comprehend strength! What do you mean 'get beaten up'? Garp's method is 'getting beaten up'!"
The midday sun streamed through the window, casting mottled shadows on Zephyr's cape.
Garon looked at the future Marine Admiral and suddenly realized he was standing at a critical turning point.
Dammit. If it's a beating, it's a beating.
"I'll be there on time," Garon stood and gave a formal salute.
Zephyr nodded and turned toward the door. As he pushed it open, he paused. "By the way, Garon."
"Hmm? More instructions on 'getting beaten up'?"
"That sword of yours..." Zephyr's voice suddenly turned serious. "Eight Desolations, right? You are not allowed to bring it this afternoon."
The door closed, leaving Garon alone in the center of the office.
He reached back, his hand brushing the black blade. The sword let out a faint, almost imperceptible vibration, as if in response.
"Great. He's not even letting me bring my one and only weapon hack."