Fragments of memory drifted through the storm like broken glass—reflections of a time long gone.
Inside Zephyr's mind, echoes of his student's voice surfaced one after another.
"Sensei, stop hitting my face already! You're gonna ruin my looks!"
"Sensei, I've developed a new technique—can you take a look?"
"Sensei, I made something new—Admiral's Fried Chicken! Try it before it gets cold!"
"Sensei… does justice really need blood to exist?"
"Sensei…"
The sea was calm and silent—mockingly so, as if the world itself were laughing at those left behind.
For the first time in years, Zephyr felt truly alone.
Seventeen days had passed since Kuzan vanished.
He had accepted it—or rather, forced himself to.
A teacher cannot mourn forever. A Marine Admiral must still uphold justice.
He turned toward the horizon, preparing to return to Marineford. Then—
"Purupurupuru… purupurupuru…"
The Den-Den Mushi on his desk rang sharply. Zephyr didn't move. The sound went on and on.
"Purupurupuru… purupurupuru…"
A nervous voice broke the silence.
"General Zephyr, sir—there's a call!"
Zephyr blinked, snapping back to reality.
"…Bring it here."
The officer placed the Den-Den Mushi in his hands. Zephyr pressed the receiver.
Click.
"Sensei… It's me. Kuzan."
For a heartbeat, Zephyr's mind went blank.
His throat locked up, his chest tightened—he couldn't speak.
Tears fell silently down the old Admiral's weathered face as his mouth opened and closed, searching for sound.
"Uhh—hh—"
His voice wouldn't come.
Finally, he wiped his eyes roughly and drew a deep breath.
"Sensei, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."
Kuzan's calm, lazy tone drifted from the Den-Den Mushi, almost like nothing had happened.
Zephyr trembled, forcing the words out.
"W-Where… are you?"
"I don't know exactly," Kuzan admitted. "Some deserted island. Boa rescued me after the fight with Redfield.
The currents here are strange—storms everywhere. Probably why no one's ever found it."
He explained everything—the battle, the escape, the strange isolation of the island.
When the line went quiet, Zephyr finally exhaled.
"…Alright. Stay where you are. I'll come get you myself."
He hung up.
"Purupurupuru…"
"This is Sengoku. What's the report?"
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku, it's Zephyr. Kuzan's alive. We just spoke—trace the location of this Den-Den Mushi call!"
"What?!"
"Kuzan's alive?!"
"Are you sure?!"
Three questions, back-to-back, the shock in Sengoku's voice was unmistakable.
"Yes, dammit! He's alive and in one piece!" Zephyr said, laughter breaking through his tears.
"Understood," Sengoku replied quickly. "I'll contact Vegapunk to get the trace."
Moments later—
"Purupurupuru…"
"This is Vegapunk. What is it, Sengoku?"
"Doctor, I need you to pinpoint the coordinates of the Navy Headquarters Line 03 Den-Den Mushi, and the signal origin of today's call."
"Hmm… understood. Give me a moment."
Within minutes, the data arrived.
Sengoku read it once, eyes widening, then forwarded it directly to Zephyr.
When Zephyr received the coordinates, he passed them to his ship's navigator immediately.
"Plot the course. We leave now."
The navigator froze.
"General Zephyr! That location—it's inside the Devil's Sea! No ship has ever made it through those currents!"
Zephyr's jaw tightened.
"The Devil's Sea, huh…? Then we'll sail as close as the ocean allows."
He didn't hesitate. No storm or curse could keep him from his student.
The Devil's Sea—a region infamous for its chaotic magnetic fields and violent tempests—had swallowed countless ships whole. Zephyr knew that. But he would go as far as he could.
Meanwhile, far away, Kuzan sat by a campfire with Boa, both of them eating roasted Sea King meat under the night sky.
Their sparring had become a daily routine—each bout leaving the island trembling. Boa's scales shimmered with Armament Haki, and Kuzan's control over his ice grew sharper by the day.
The Red Earl's blade had carved more than a wound—it had carved ambition.
Because Haki training burned enormous energy, they ate mountains of food each session. But lately, even the nearby Sea Kings had grown scarce.
Kuzan chewed a piece of grilled meat, sighing.
"…Guess it's about time I let Sensei know I'm alive."
It was a late thought—too late, really. The grief had numbed him after the Great Sage's death. He hadn't realized how much time had passed.
He had no idea what kind of chaos his silence had caused—
Zephyr is nearly broken, Sengoku is sleepless for days, and even Kong is raising Redfield's bounty to a record-breaking sum out of fury.
And now—after weeks of mourning—the news of Kuzan's survival had thrown Marineford into stunned celebration.
While the world buzzed with disbelief, Kuzan sat cross-legged beside his massive companion, holding a skewer over the fire.
"Hey, Boa… pass me that last piece."
Boa rumbled softly, flicking the meat toward him with its tail.
Kuzan grinned.
"Thanks, partner."
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