Tsuru let out a quiet sigh in her heart.
She had watched Tokikake grow up. Though the boy wasn't exactly handsome, he was, overall, a decent man.
As for Gion's choice, she knew better than to interfere. She bore no resentment or judgment.
Everyone has their youth.
Compared to someone like that Marine "monster"—powerful, brilliant, charming, and dazzling—Tokikake, while a genius in his own right, simply didn't measure up.
It was only natural to be drawn to someone exceptional.
Still, she couldn't help but feel a little bad for Tokikake.
...Until she remembered all those days he spent "caring for women" and "researching the red-light district." At that thought, any lingering sympathy vanished completely.
...
Ding ding ding...
The shrill sound of the bell rang through the training camp's culture class, immediately followed by a chorus of groans and complaints.
"Pens down! Hand in your papers now!"
"Onigumo! Tuck in that hair! If you don't know the answers, it's not going to help to use all your arms to write!"
"And you, Yamakaji! It's just a test—why do you look like it's the end of the world? There's a damn mountain of ash on your desk!"
"Tokikake, you little punk! What are you looking at? Peek again and I'll gouge your eyes out!"
"Kuzan, stop sleeping! Hand it in!"
...
On the podium, Zephyr rubbed his forehead, watching the chaos unfold below.
This group of brats never paid attention in class, and now that it was exam time, they were pulling out every trick in the book.
With a long sigh, Zephyr pinched the bridge of his nose as he started collecting their tests, his frown deepening with every new page.
He flipped through the thick stack of answer sheets, and his brows furrowed tighter and tighter, his expression darkening by the second.
Kuzan had turned in a blank sheet.
Tokikake's handwriting was as messy as his personality—crooked, unreadable, and even the answers he tried to copy from others were wrong.
Onigumo's responses were decent, while Yamakaji was just average.
Gion, as always, was outstanding. Her handwriting was elegant and clear, and her answers were logically structured—clean, precise, and a pleasure to read.
"Wait... where's that troublemaker Daren's paper?"
Zephyr suddenly remembered and started digging through the pile.
"That brat skips class every day... If he bombs the cultural exam, I'm gonna beat some sense into him..."
Muttering to himself, he quickly found Daren's test.
But the moment his eyes scanned the answers, Zephyr froze.
A glimmer lit up in his eyes.
He blinked, stunned, then murmured to himself,
"This kid... really is a genius."
...
"Hey, Daren, how did you do on the exam? The questions were way too hard. I took one look and passed out!"
As soon as they walked out of the exam room, Kuzan threw an arm over Daren's shoulder like they were lifelong buddies, grinning as he spoke.
Daren's mouth twitched.
"I know. I heard you snoring."
"Dahahahaha! Loud, right?!"
Kuzan laughed proudly, showing not a shred of embarrassment.
This hot-blooded guy... Daren could almost see the black lines forming across his forehead.
Truthfully, the culture class exam wasn't that difficult. Most of the questions were just entry-level material. After all, the training camp focused more on enhancing combat ability than academic knowledge.
As a transmigrator, Daren had endured the soul-crushing grind of standardized tests. He may not have been a straight-A student in his past life, but for this kind of exam—designed for recruits with limited cultural literacy—he was more than capable.
"Right, you've been gone for over ten days. Garp-san asked you to stop by."
As they strolled toward the family housing area, Kuzan suddenly smacked his forehead like he'd just remembered something important.
"Vice Admiral Garp?"
Daren paused for a moment, then nodded.
Back on Coin Island, when he clashed with Shiki the Golden Lion, he'd instinctively recalled the feel of Garp's punch. That memory helped him barely block Shiki's terrifying strike.
Sure, part of it was due to his inhuman physique and powerful Armament Haki—but it also proved how terrifying Garp's strength truly was.
Just grasping the basics of Garp's techniques had allowed him to push his limits and survive a fight with a legendary pirate.
So what if he actually mastered Garp's full arsenal?
With that, combined with his abnormal physical strength...
Yeah—he wouldn't have to worry about getting stabbed ever again.
...
A few minutes later, Daren and Kuzan arrived at the training port, cluttered with discarded materials and broken warships.
The moment they stepped into the long-abandoned area, Daren spotted the remains of ships scattered across the ground.
One by one, the mid- and small-sized vessels had been torn apart and smashed to bits, like they'd been shredded by a rampaging T-Rex. The scene was brutal.
Compared to the last time he was here, at least a quarter of the wreckage was gone.
No need to ask—this was the result of Garp and Kuzan's joint training during his absence.
"You guys have been going all out, huh."
Daren couldn't help but comment.
Kuzan might act lazy and indifferent toward anything that wasn't combat or pirate hunting, but when it came to training, he never slacked.
Same with Garp.
Daren even suspected that Garp's refusal to be promoted to Admiral wasn't just because he didn't want to protect those disgusting Celestial Dragons—it was also because he wanted the freedom to train and move as he pleased.
More time for self-improvement.
And more time to chase Roger across the seas.
"Of course!"
Kuzan clenched his fist, his tone fired up.
"If I don't put in the effort, you'll leave me in the dust!"
Daren smiled.
...
"You're both here."
A deep, warm voice with a hint of amusement came from behind.
Daren and Kuzan turned and instantly straightened up, saluting as Garp strolled over in his trademark dog-head hat.
"Vice Admiral Garp!"
"Vice Admiral Garp!"
Garp waved casually and plopped down in a nearby spot, grinning as he looked at Daren.
"So, kid, I heard from Sengoku you used one of the moves I taught you when you fought Shiki?"
Daren nodded, then shook his head.
"Just the basics. I feel like I still have a long way to go before I really get it."
Garp burst into hearty laughter.
"That's already damn impressive! My moves aren't something just anyone can pick up!"
He stood with pride, hands on his hips.
"Alright, spit it out—any training questions, I'll answer 'em. I'm heading out soon, and time's tight."
Daren blinked in surprise.
"You found the Roger Pirates...? There's news?"
Roger's crew had been completely off the radar for over half a year now. Not a single shred of intel.
The sea was just too vast—and for a crew like Roger's that moved in a tight elite formation, they could vanish without a trace unless they made some kind of major move. Even the Marine Headquarters would struggle to locate them.
"No, still no word from Roger. Damn guy's been awfully quiet lately..."
Garp shook his head, a serious glint flickering in his eyes.
"This time... our target is Patrick Redfield."