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Chapter 454: The Dead Resurrected, Zephyr Makes Up for His Regrets
She looked around, noticing the white daisies and the dense clusters of gravestones surrounding them.
"Where are we?" Her hands brushed against Zephyr's cold mechanical arm; she flinched. "What happened to your arm?" she asked, her voice breaking with heartache as she cradled the hunk of scrap metal.
Zephyr shook his head. He didn't want to explain the agonizing, endless years that had passed. He didn't want to bring up the bastard who severed his arm.
"It's okay now. The pirate is gone. I chased him away. We're safe." Zephyr used his calloused left hand to gently wipe the dirt from his wife's face.
The little boy clung tightly to Zephyr's coat, burying his face into his father's broad chest. The steady rhythm of his father's heartbeat brought him absolute peace.
A commotion of this magnitude couldn't possibly be hidden from the Marine base below. Blinding searchlights swept up the mountain, and the sound of hurried footsteps echoed along the path.
The first to arrive was a flash of golden light, materializing into Kizaru.
Borsalino had been lounging in his office, lazily clipping his nails. The moment he saw the colossal phantom towering over the mountain, he flew over without even grabbing his coat.
The photons reassembled into his tall, lanky frame near the edge of the cemetery. He pushed up his tinted sunglasses, watching the terrifying King of Hell phantom slowly dissipate.
"Oh my, so it really worked," Kizaru drawled. His tone lacked shock; instead, it carried a profound sigh of 'just as expected.' He looked at Zephyr sitting in the dirt, and the two living, breathing people clinging to him. As Zephyr's student, how could Kizaru not recognize the faces of his teacher's wife and his little junior? Despite the years, their faces were identical to the photographs on the gravestones. Even the small tear-mole by the boy's eye was exactly as he remembered.
"What an absolutely terrifying ability," Kizaru muttered, his gaze drifting to the fresh shock of white hair on Zephyr's head.
Right on his heels, Sengoku and Garp arrived.
Sengoku was still wearing his oversized 'Justice' coat, while Garp literally had a half-eaten rice cracker pinched between his fingers. As the two legends laid eyes on the scene, their footsteps simultaneously slowed to a halt.
There was no shock, no petrification. The faces of the Marine Fleet Admiral and the Marine Hero displayed an incredibly complex tapestry of emotions—relief, sorrow, and ultimate liberation.
They had pooled their money to buy that high-tier ticket. They understood better than anyone the sheer, infinite possibilities hidden within Blake's tavern. When they handed that ticket to Zephyr, they had prayed against a million-to-one odds that this stubborn, broken old friend could finally find a whole, happy ending to his tragic life.
And now, the miracle had actually happened.
With a sharp crack, the rice cracker in Garp's hand crumbled to dust. He broke into a wide, ugly grin, though tears shimmered brightly in the corners of his eyes.
Sengoku let out a long, heavy exhale, as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His normally stern, imposing face softened into an expression of pure, brotherly warmth.
"Welcome back, Marie," Sengoku said, his voice unusually hoarse. He didn't approach Zephyr right away, choosing instead to greet the bewildered woman first.
Garp burst into boisterous, unrestrained laughter. He strode forward and delivered a heavy, resounding slap to Zephyr's back. "Beautifully done, you old bastard! That's the 'Black Arm' Zephyr I know!"
Zephyr coughed from the impact but didn't snap back. He looked up at Sengoku.
"I'm done. I quit." Zephyr's tone was absolute, leaving zero room for negotiation.
Sengoku looked like he had anticipated this exact outcome. He stepped closer, taking in his old comrade's pale face and prematurely white hair, feeling a complex knot of emotions in his chest.
"What was the price?" Sengoku asked. He knew power capable of shattering the iron laws of life and death couldn't come without a horrific toll.
Zephyr offered a careless, dismissive smile. "Just a bit of my lifespan. I've lived long enough anyway."
Marie tugged gently at Zephyr's shirt from behind. She didn't fully grasp what was happening, but she recognized Sengoku and Garp.
"Admiral Sengoku. Vice Admiral Garp," Marie greeted them timidly.
Sengoku took a deep breath, forcing a gentle smile onto his face. "Just Sengoku is fine." He turned back to Zephyr, his eyes unwavering. "Find someone else for the Chief Instructor position. That Smoker kid isn't a bad choice; his temper is rotten, but his strength has improved."
Zephyr slowly pushed himself off the ground. He held his wife's hand with his left arm, and she held their son's. The family of three stood together in the night wind.
"I'm taking them back to my hometown in the East Blue tomorrow. Going to find a quiet place where no one knows us. Farm a little, fish a little."
Sengoku looked at Zephyr's empty right sleeve, then at the dirt-caked mechanical smasher lying on the grass. He knew that 'Black Arm' of the Marines had truly died tonight. The man who survived was just a normal father and husband named Zephyr.
And that was exactly the ending they had all prayed for.
"Alright." Sengoku gave a firm, heavy nod. "Don't bother submitting a resignation letter. I'm putting you on indefinite, permanent leave. Your pension and salary will be paid in full."
Sengoku turned around, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Now get out of here. Take your wife and kid, go live the life you were meant to live, and don't ever come back."
Watching Sengoku's back, a faint smile touched Zephyr's lips. He didn't say thank you. Between them, such hollow pleasantries were unnecessary.
Kizaru wandered over. Looking down at his little junior hiding behind Marie's legs, he fished a chocolate bar out of his pocket and offered it.
The little boy took it nervously. "Thank you, Uncle Yellow-clothe."
Kizaru's face darkened slightly. "It's Uncle Borsalino," he corrected. He turned to Zephyr, a rare touch of sincerity in his tone. "Teacher, come back to Foosha Village for tea when you have the time. The booze at Boss Blake's place isn't half bad."
Zephyr nodded. He looked up at the night sky. The stars in the East Blue shone so much brighter than the ones over Marineford.
"Let's go. We're going home." Zephyr took his wife's hand and strode down the mountain. His back was no longer hunched. That massive, burdensome Seastone arm seemed like nothing more than a trivial trinket left behind in the dirt.
Garp stood completely still, watching the family of three vanish into the darkness. Suddenly, he snapped his head toward Sengoku.
"Hey, Sengoku. Since Zephyr actually succeeded, doesn't that mean…" A dangerous, wild glint flashed in Garp's eyes. "Doesn't that mean we could pull that bastard Roger out of the ground and beat him up again?!"
The thought had been burning a hole in his brain ever since he learned of the infinite possibilities at Blake's tavern.
Sengoku shot Garp a venomous glare. "Don't you dare! If you pull a stunt like that at Marine Headquarters, I'll beat you to death myself!"
Garp picked his nose, looking entirely unbothered. "Tch. Stingy."
Far away in Foosha Village, Makino's tavern was brightly lit. Blake sat comfortably behind the bar, watching the notification pop up on his system panel. He picked up his green tea and took a slow sip.
"Now that's more like it," Blake murmured. "Who needs tragedy to make a man's romance?"
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