Chapter 9: Just a Little More
Garon's gaze paused for a moment on the wanted poster.
Asahi, ever the opportunist, read his expression and immediately chimed in. "Garon, sir, I know you're destined for HQ! A talent like you staying in West Blue is a colossal waste!"
As he spoke, his smile became a little strained. "It's just... sir... you see, you are coming from our 133rd Branch, after all..."
Garon finally stopped and turned to look at Asahi.
He knew exactly what Asahi was thinking. The Marines of this era weren't like they would be in the future. On top of that, spots at the Marine Academy at HQ were precious and limited. Without exception, every elite promoted to HQ was a "Star" from one of the branches in the Four Blues.
Because of this, Marines of this era had a deep-seated attachment to their hometowns, a drive to bring honor back to where they came from.
It was just like Garp. Even though he had graduated from the Academy at HQ, he still frequently returned to his home in the East Blue after becoming famous. It was a form of protection, and a form of attachment.
In the office, the sunset's afterglow shone through the window, tracing the cold, hard outline of Garon's profile. "Commander," he said slowly. "I am from the West Blue."
Garon's flat, simple statement: "I am from the West Blue."
Asahi's face instantly flushed bright red, and his forehead beaded with sweat. He wrung his hands, stammering for a long moment before finally choking out, "That's right! Hahaha! Garon Reginald Sigma is from my West Blue!"
Hah. Garon thought, watching Asahi's giddy display. A flash of understanding passed through his eyes.
The West Blue branch had always been on the margins of the Marine hierarchy, known as a "dumping ground." An HQ elite who came out of the 133rd Branch could truly bring a great deal of political capital to someone like Asahi, who would likely be stuck at this branch for his entire life.
This was especially true for future funding from HQ. The Marines were just as full of politics and favoritism as any other organization. If Garon established a firm foothold at HQ, the West Blue branch would reap the benefits.
"You can rest easy," Garon said flatly. "After all, this is my 'starting point'."
As if he'd been granted a full pardon, the fat on Asahi's face seemed to relax. "Wonderful! Wonderful! Garon, sir, I'm telling you, you'll absolutely make it to HQ! Your service record is just missing this one last piece." Asahi finished by slapping the wanted poster hard.
"Indeed." Garon nodded and continued walking.
Asahi moved to follow, but Garon stopped him with a single glance. "I need to be alone."
"Yes, yes, of course! You rest, sir! Rest!" Asahi nodded and bowed, backing away. As he left, he didn't forget to roar at the nearby soldiers, "What are you all staring at? Can't you see Warrant Officer Garon is tired? Scram and get back to work!"
...
At the 133rd Branch's port, Garon walked alone to the cliffs behind the base.
The view here was wide, overlooking the entirety of the West Blue. The sun had now completely sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky a deep, bruised purple.
He unslung the black blade "Eight Desolations" from his back, his fingers lightly brushing the bandages.
It had been one year.
In that year, he had annihilated sixteen pirate crews, sweeping the pirate forces of the West Blue almost completely clean.
But Garon knew very well that these so-called "accomplishments" weren't even worth mentioning in the eyes of the monsters at HQ.
Whitebeard was in the New World, "looking for sons." Golden Lion had already occupied dozens of islands. The movements of Roger's crew were a mystery...
And at Marine HQ, Sengoku, Garp, Zephyr... those names represented the true peak of power.
"West Blue... is too small."
Garon raised his hand. A ball of pure white vibration particles materialized in his palm, glowing faintly in the twilight like a compressed star.
His development of the Sky-Tremor Fruit was still far from its limit. Fruit development wasn't as simple as he'd thought; the control for every single move had to be incredibly precise. This past year, he had only managed to master the basics: elementalization, defense, offense, shockwaves, and short-range dashes.
But the good news was that the Sky-Tremor Fruit's floor was the Gura Gura no Mi. As for its ceiling... for a man who possessed memories of the future, it was, of course, limitlessly high.
"As for Haki..." Garon clenched his fist. The orb of light burst between his fingers, and the air around his hand began to crack.
At first, he had tried to imitate some of the training methods from the "original story," but the results were fruitless.
Without Armament Haki, he couldn't fight other Logia users. Without Observation Haki, even with his elementalization, he'd be hit by top-tier fighters whose movements he couldn't predict. As for Conqueror's Haki...
"Zephyr..." A sharp, hungry glint flashed in Garon's eyes.
The Admiral renowned as "Black Arm" was the living embodiment of peak Armament Haki. If he could just get his guidance...
The sea breeze whipped Garon's cape, making it snap in the wind. He turned, looking in the direction of Marineford, his gaze hardening with resolve.
Once he dealt with the Blood-Spear Pirates, his service record would finally be up to standard. The next step... was there.
...
Meanwhile, in the shadows at the side of the port, Commander Asahi was hunched over, clutching a bag of already-cold rice balls.
It was the "comfort food" he had originally planned to personally deliver to Garon.
His forehead was beaded with cold sweat, glistening oilily in the dim light. His fingers unconsciously twisted the bag, making a faint rustling sound.
"It's so... so similar!"
Asahi's pupils trembled. An image of that man uncontrollably surfaced in his mind. The monster from the battle at God Valley one year ago, who had single-handedly shattered an entire island and triggered a tsunami.
"If I hadn't confirmed it was a Logia, I would've sworn he'd gotten that man's Devil Fruit..."
He had been hiding behind a cargo container just now, and had personally witnessed the orb of vibrating light Garon condensed in his palm. That pure, space-tearing tremor had made him tremble instinctively.
But at the same time, a twisted excitement welled up from his very core, like a gambler who had just hit the jackpot.
"This Garon kid..." Asahi licked his dry lips, his fatty cheeks squeezing into a smile of pure, unadulterated sycophancy. "He's only 15 this year... younger than those three new monsters at HQ. He's absolutely going to be a big shot..."
At that thought, Asahi looked back at the blurry figure on the cliff and began to retreat, carefully backing away.
His shoe landed in a puddle with a splash that sounded piercingly loud in the silent dock. He froze, terrified.
Only after confirming that Garon hadn't noticed the noise did he let out a long sigh of relief and continue to tiptoe away.
"I'm the first one who got to ride these coattails!"
His mind was already racing, calculating: when Garon became an HQ Vice Admiral... no, maybe even an Admiral...
No, by then, the 133rd Branch would definitely be upgraded to the West Blue General Headquarters! Haha! And I, Asahi, will be its Commander!
The night wind blew past, and Asahi suddenly shivered.
"No, I can't waste time. I have to hurry and dig up all the intel on the Blood-Spear Pirates. We have to send our 'Star of the West Blue' to HQ as fast as possible! Hahaha!"
With that, Asahi took one last look toward the cliffs. Garon's figure was gone.
Only the sound of waves crashing against the rocks echoed in the night.