The mornings at Marineford always carried a touch of cool sea mist.
In the medical center's backyard, dew still clung to the leaves of the parasol trees, and Zephyr was already sitting on the stone bench.
His left hand rested on the empty sleeve of his right arm, fingertips unconsciously brushing against the fabric's edge.
There should've been the cold touch of a metal prosthetic there, but he often removed it quietly at night, letting the empty sleeve sway in the wind, as if to remind himself of that heartbreaking defeat.
From the nearby training grounds came the sound of new recruits shouting in unison. The crisp clash of swords and blades pierced his chest like needles.
Those young figures reminded him of the last group of trainees he had ever led.
They too had once been so full of spirit, until they were slaughtered by Edward Weevil, without even time for a full cry for help.
And he, their "teacher," hadn't even managed to protect them… or his own arm.
"Teacher, you're up so early again."
Ain walked over with a bowl of hot porridge. Seeing Zephyr staring blankly at his missing arm, her tone softened instinctively.
She knew he'd been like this lately, silent during the day, sitting alone in the courtyard; sometimes waking at night, shouting his students' names in his sleep.
Zephyr didn't turn his head. He simply murmured a faint "Mm," his gaze still fixed on his sleeve.
He used to say, "Strength is the foundation of protection." But now, he no longer even had the strength to hold himself; what protection could he still talk about?
Even being a regular instructor felt like an unreachable dream.
Ain set the porridge down on the stone table, wanting to say more, but a slow, dragging sound of footsteps interrupted her. It was Renzo.
He was wearing loose white casual clothes, holding a thermal lunchbox, his hair messy as if he'd just rolled out of bed. Clearly, his goal was the old parasol tree in the backyard where the morning sun shone through.
"You're in the way."
Renzo's voice was hoarse with sleep. His eyes fell on Zephyr, not so much at him, but at the empty spot beside him where the sunlight reached.
Zephyr blinked, coming back to his senses, and shifted slightly to the side.
Renzo didn't stand on ceremony. He set the lunchbox on the ground, spread out a thin blanket on the open space, lay down, and closed his eyes, ready to nap.
The sunlight hit him just right, warm enough to make anyone sleepy, but the gloomy pressure radiating from Zephyr beside him hung in the air like a dark cloud, making it impossible for him to relax.
"Too noisy," Renzo muttered, frowning slightly, still not opening his eyes.
He wasn't referring to sound, but to that heavy, suffocating aura that clung around Zephyr like a weight, more annoying than the recruits' shouting.
Zephyr froze for a moment before realizing Renzo was talking about him.
A self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips. "I've gotten so old that even sitting quietly annoys people now, huh?"
"Not annoying, just heavy," Renzo murmured, cracking one eye open to glance at Zephyr before shutting it again.
"You standing there feels like a rock pressing down on my chest. I can't sleep."
Ain panicked, worried his words might offend the teacher. Just as she was about to smooth things over, Zephyr sighed softly.
"You're right," he said quietly. "I used to think that as long as a man stood firm, moved forward, he could protect the people he cared for. But now…"
He lifted his empty sleeve slightly. "Now, even standing feels unnecessary. Moving? Impossible."
Silence fell, broken only by the gentle rustling of sea wind through the leaves.
Renzo didn't reply, and Ain didn't dare to speak, afraid to touch Zephyr's wounds.
After a while, just when Ain thought Renzo had fallen asleep, he spoke again, in a tone so casual it sounded like he was just commenting on the weather.
"Then don't move. Lying down's fine too."
He turned over, his voice muffled by drowsiness.
"Why force yourself to stand? When you're lying down, you can bask in the sun, eat some snacks, and stop overthinking all that 'how to protect people' nonsense. Thinking too much is more tiring than training."
After that, there was no sound but the steady rhythm of his breathing; he'd really fallen asleep.
Zephyr froze.
'Then don't move. Lying down's fine too…'
The words dropped into his heart like a stone hitting still water.
He had been trapped in the obsession that "without strength, there is no protection", that only by fighting on the frontlines could he protect others. But Renzo's words were like a ray of light shining into a corner of his mind he had never explored.
If he couldn't move, did that really mean he was useless?
He looked at his left hand, then at the recruits clumsily swinging their swords on the training field.
They had strength, but no experience. They'd die easily in a real battle.
He used to think, "I'll make them stronger." But now, he realized strength alone wasn't enough; they needed wits, tactics, and the means to survive.
Once, he had embodied "Active Justice", shielding his students with his body and strength.
Now, perhaps he could become "Passive Justice", no longer fighting or charging forward, but guiding them tactically, teaching them how to avoid danger and stay alive.
"Teacher?" Ain noticed the light returning to Zephyr's eyes, no longer lost, but clear, and asked softly.
Zephyr slowly raised his head, the corners of his mouth curling into his first genuine smile in a long time, not forced, but full of relief and hope.
He stood up, brushed the dust off his uniform, and looked toward the training field, his eyes firm.
"Ain, fetch me 'Tactical Notes of the Grand Line' from the library, and contact Fleet Admiral Sengoku. I have something to discuss with him."
Ain's face lit up with joy. "Yes! I'll go right away!"
Zephyr watched her hurry off, then turned to look at Renzo, still lying there, fast asleep, completely unaware that his offhand comment had changed the course of another man's life.
Zephyr chuckled softly, then walked back toward his office, his steps lighter than before. His empty sleeve swayed in the breeze, not as a reminder of loss, but as a symbol of new purpose.
In the following days, Zephyr was busier than ever.
He requested a reassignment from Sengoku to become a tactical instructor dedicated to battlefield strategy for new recruits.
His reason: "Better to teach them how to survive with minimal losses than to let them charge blindly to their deaths."
Sengoku, who had long been worried about Zephyr's condition, immediately agreed, even assigning him a spacious new classroom.
Zephyr buried himself in the library, devouring tactical books he'd never had time to read, combining them with years of field experience to develop a practical "survival-first" tactical manual.
No heroic slogans, just real, detailed advice like "How to assess an enemy's strength," "How to use terrain to avoid attacks," and "When facing a powerful foe, when to run, when to fight."
That afternoon, Ain entered his classroom with a smile, handing him a cup of tea. "Teacher, you look so much better now. Even Fleet Admiral Sengoku said, You've never looked more like an instructor than you do today."
Zephyr took the cup and gazed out the window. The recruits outside were now training according to his new methods, still clumsy, but no longer reckless. They moved in teams, using terrain wisely, covering each other.
He smiled faintly. "I should thank that kid."
"Renzo?" Ain blinked. "You mean… that 'lying down is fine' line?"
Zephyr nodded, eyes soft with gratitude.
"He made me realize, not all protection requires action. Sometimes, staying still and thinking about how to reduce others' pain, that's even more important."
Meanwhile, the man being thanked, Renzo, was slouched in the mess hall, happily eating mango mochi made by Aunt Machi.
He stuffed one in his mouth after another, savoring each bite, utterly unaware of what he'd set in motion days ago.
Beside him, Potts handed over a cup of hot milk and whispered, "Commodore Renzo, I heard Instructor Zephyr's become a tactical teacher. The recruits all say he's great."
Renzo chewed his mochi, replying with a lazy, muffled "Mm," not bothering to ask further.
To him, whatever Zephyr was doing had nothing to do with him, as long as no one bothered his snacks and naps, life was good.
The sunset shone through the canteen windows, warm and golden.
Renzo finished the last mochi, yawned, and got up to return to the dorms for a nap.
As for the fact that one offhand comment had changed another man's life?
That kind of troublesome thing, he couldn't care less.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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