Asahi did have real ability—
especially when it came to crafting headlines.
Coupled with Gern's completely shameless interview answers, the hottest news titles across the West Blue quickly became—
"Gol D. Roger? Give Me Two Years — Gern"
"Why Did Golden Lion and Whitebeard Rise First? Avoiding Gern's Edge—or Simply Early Birds?"
"Gern: Strong People Share Two Traits—Bad Memory, and… I Forgot the Other One"
The strategy was simple:
whoever had the biggest name recently—drag them out as comparison fodder.
Surprisingly, it worked.
The West Blue hadn't produced a standout Marine rookie in years, and Gern's explosive rise instantly swept the entire sea.
Even the newly founded World Economic News ran a rare feature on him.
Marine Headquarters — Marineford
Sunset light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the framed words "Unyielding Justice" hanging on the wall.
Zephyr sat behind his broad desk, purple hair catching the metallic gleam of dusk, thick arms crossed as his eyes rested on the document before him.
"Operational Report:
Ensign Gern Reginald Sigma — Ashen Harbor Engagement"
Beside it lay several newspapers, every front page sharing the same name:
"Heavenly Quake" Gern.
Zephyr's fingers tapped lightly against the desk, his gaze fixed on a particular passage—
Gern's order to remove the Marine flags.
And the words he spoke:
"Justice that arrives late does not deserve to be called justice."
A rare trace of approval flickered in Zephyr's eyes.
"That brat…" he murmured.
His thoughts drifted back to a year ago—
God Valley's retreat.
A blood-soaked少年 carrying fallen comrades on his back, eyes exhausted yet unyielding.
Even then, Zephyr had known—
this one was different.
He repeated the words quietly.
"Justice that arrives late…"
A low chuckle escaped him.
At that moment—
BANG!
The office door flew open.
"Hahahaha! Zephyr! Guess what—Roger slipped away again!"
Garp burst in, black hair wild, snacks stuffed into his mouth.
"That bastard runs faster than a rabbit! Sengoku sent three warships and still couldn't box him in!"
Sengoku followed, rubbing his temples.
"Garp, must you enter like a cannon every time?"
Zephyr smiled faintly.
"Let him slip right under your nose again?"
Garp flopped onto the sofa.
"If he hadn't suddenly turned into the Calm Belt, I'd have hammered him into the seabed!"
"Don't talk with your mouth full, damn it!"
Zephyr shifted topics calmly.
"Sengoku—Whitebeard. Any movement?"
Sengoku nodded.
"He's formed his own crew. Apparently searching for 'sons' lately. Might've returned to the Four Blues."
Garp snorted.
"We should've brought Tsuru…"
"You—!"
Sengoku wiped snack crumbs off his face and noticed the papers on Zephyr's desk.
"Oh? That West Blue kid—'Heavenly Quake' Gern?"
Zephyr slid the report over.
"Have a look."
Sengoku skimmed it, expression turning serious.
"Solo kill on a 69-million bounty pirate… Logia…"
He paused at the flag removal section.
"Removed the Marine flag… interesting."
Garp leaned in.
"Why'd he do that?"
"The town had already been slaughtered," Zephyr said quietly.
"He believed arriving late meant the flag no longer deserved to fly."
Garp fell silent—then grinned wide.
"Heh. Backbone. I like him!"
Sengoku looked at Zephyr.
"And you?"
Zephyr stood and walked to the window.
"Ten years old when he enlisted. Four years stuck as a Second-Class Private.
Then God Valley—and sudden rise. Sixteen pirate crews wiped out in one year."
"Still," Sengoku adjusted his glasses,
"his Devil Fruit… Logia-type vibration. Similar to Newgate's, but fundamentally different."
"More primal," Zephyr replied.
"And he's only fifteen."
Sengoku narrowed his eyes.
"Fifteen and killing Grand Line returnees… but the World Government is uneasy."
Garp scoffed.
"Those paranoid idiots. As long as he's not a pirate, who cares?"
Zephyr folded the paper.
"I've already signed his transfer. He reports next month."
Sengoku froze.
"To Headquarters? Zephyr… are you planning to take him personally?"
That was different.
Students were one thing.
An aide—was another.
Zephyr smiled faintly.
"I'm thirty-seven. I don't have much time left at my peak."
He stared out at the harbor.
"Gern reminds me of myself—before the fruit.
No talent. No background. Just effort."
"So if he's earned the chance—
I'll teach him myself."
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