Asahi was, if nothing else, truly capable—especially when it came to crafting headlines.
Coupled with Gern's utterly shameless interview answers, the hottest news across the West Blue quickly became…
"Gol D. Roger? Give Me Two Years!" — Gern Declares Boldly
"Why Did Golden Lion and Whitebeard Rise First? To Avoid Gern's Edge, or Just Early Birds?"
"Gern on the Traits of the Strong: One Has a Bad Memory… the Other—I Forgot."
The strategy was simple: whoever was famous lately, drag them out as a comparison piece.
Absurd as it was, Asahi's early version of clickbait journalism worked astonishingly well.
The West Blue hadn't produced a dazzling Marine rookie in ages, and Gern's sudden, explosive rise instantly swept through the entire sea.
Even the newly established World Economic Journal—still in its infancy—ran a rare feature on him.
...
Marine Headquarters — Marineford
Golden sunset light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the massive kanji of "Unyielding Justice" mounted on the wall.
Zephyr sat behind his broad desk, short purple hair catching a metallic sheen in the fading light. His thick arms were crossed over his chest as his steady gaze rested on the report spread before him.
"Action Report: West Blue Branch 133, Lieutenant Junior Grade
Gern · Reginald · Sigma — Ashen Port Engagement"
Beside the file lay several freshly printed newspapers from the World Economic Journal. Without exception, the front page featured the same name:
"West Blue Rising Star! Marine 'Heavenquake' Gern Slays Seventy-Million Pirate!"
"Logia-Type User? The Monster Recruit of a West Blue Branch!"
Zephyr's fingers tapped lightly against the desk, but his eyes never left the report.
It detailed the entire Ashen Port incident—
including Gern's decision to order the Marine flags removed after witnessing the slaughtered civilians,
and the words he had spoken then:
"Justice that arrives too late doesn't deserve to be called justice."
A faint smile tugged at Zephyr's lips, rare approval flickering in his eyes.
"That kid…" he murmured.
His thoughts drifted back to a year ago, during the retreat from God Valley—
to the blood-soaked boy carrying a fallen comrade's body, eyes exhausted yet unwavering.
Even then, Zephyr had known this youth was different.
And now, Gern's actions had only confirmed it.
"Justice that arrives too late…"
"…doesn't deserve to be called justice."
Zephyr repeated the line softly, his stern expression showing a trace of emotion.
He set the report aside and looked out the window.
Below, Marineford's harbor bustled with activity. Soldiers hauled supplies, and rows of warship flags snapped in the wind.
Just then—
Bang!
The office door burst open.
"HAHAHA! Zephyr! Guess what? That bastard Roger slipped away again!"
A younger Garp strode in, black hair wild, a bag of snacks clutched in his hand, cheeks stuffed full.
"That guy runs faster than a rabbit! Sengoku sent three warships and still couldn't block him!"
Sengoku followed behind, rubbing his temples in resignation.
"Garp, do you have to make this much noise every time you enter?"
Zephyr turned back, a small smile forming.
"So? He escaped right under your nose again?"
Garp flopped onto the sofa, crossing one leg over the other.
"Tch! If Roger hadn't suddenly turned toward the Calm Belt, I'd have smashed him straight into the seabed!"
"Don't talk with your mouth full, damn it!" Sengoku snapped.
Zephyr smoothly shifted the topic.
"Sengoku—any sign of Whitebeard in the New World?"
Sengoku nodded.
"He's formed his own pirate crew. Lately he's been… collecting sons, apparently.
Hard to say if he's moved back toward the Four Blues or is still on the Grand Line."
"See? We should've brought Tsuru along—mmph—"
Sengoku, having been sprayed with crumbs, chose to ignore Garp entirely.
His gaze drifted to the newspapers on Zephyr's desk, eyebrow lifting.
"Oh? That 'Heavenquake' Gern from the West Blue? His name's been everywhere lately."
"Mm." Zephyr slid the report across. "Take a look."
Sengoku accepted it and skimmed through quickly, his expression growing serious.
"Solo kill on a sixty-nine-million pirate… Logia-type ability…"
When he reached the part about removing the Marine flags, his finger paused.
"Removed the flags? This kid… that's interesting."
Garp leaned over, still chewing.
"Removed them? Why?"
"The Blood Spear Pirates massacred Ashen Port," Zephyr said gravely.
"By the time the Marines arrived, the town was already gone.
Gern believed that justice arriving after the fact had no meaning—no right to fly the Marine banner."
Garp's grin faded for a moment. He fell silent—rarely so.
Then he burst into laughter.
"Ha! He's got guts! I like him!!"
Sengoku looked up at Zephyr, questioning.
"And you? What do you think?"
Zephyr chuckled softly.
"That line… it's not something an ordinary branch soldier would say."
"Indeed." Sengoku adjusted his glasses.
"His record is unusual too. Joined the Marines at ten, took four years just to reach Seaman Second Class.
Then after God Valley, he explodes—sixteen pirate crews eliminated in a single year."
"But…" Sengoku's eyes sharpened.
"His Devil Fruit—Logia, Heavenquake? Similar to Newgate's Tremor-Tremor Fruit, yet fundamentally different."
"A Logia embodiment of vibration itself," Zephyr said.
"More pure than a Paramecia. And he's only fifteen."
Sengoku narrowed his eyes.
"Killing a near-seventy-million pirate who returned from the Grand Line at fifteen… his potential is immense.
Still, the World Government has its doubts."
"Those guys are paranoid," Garp scoffed.
"As long as he's not a pirate, who cares what ability he has?
And the West Blue hasn't had new blood in ages! Besides, the Academy just graduated three monster rookies too! Hahaha!"
Zephyr said nothing. He folded the newspaper and placed it neatly on the desk.
"I've already signed his transfer. He'll report to Headquarters next month."
Sengoku raised an eyebrow.
"Report directly? Zephyr, are you planning to request him personally from Fleet Admiral Kong?"
Normally, rookies from the Four Blues would attend the Marine Academy for further training upon promotion.
And lately, Zephyr had been lecturing there often—clearly nurturing the next generation.
The three recent prodigies—Kuzan, Sakazuki, and Borsalino—were all shaped, at least in part, by Zephyr.
But bringing Gern straight to Headquarters was different.
That wasn't schooling.
That was taking him in personally.
"Ha." Zephyr stood, moving to the window, back straight as iron.
"I'm thirty-seven now. I'm not like you two.
"We've got you, we've got the next generation, and those three monsters from the Academy.
But Gern… I checked his files. Before gaining his Devil Fruit, he was just like me when I was young."
Zephyr's voice lowered.
"A completely ordinary man. No talent, no background—just a bit more strength than most.
"Now that he's earned the capital to rise…"
He clenched a fist slightly.
"…I'll teach him myself."
Under Zephyr's watchful gaze,
a new era quietly began to turn.
Advance Chapters available on Patreon
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