The storm ended as quickly as it had begun.
The roaring winds died, and the skies above the harbor cleared once more—bright, cloudless, and blue. The golden sunlight poured down, casting a warm glow across Dragon's calm, smiling face.
There was something in that smile—gentle, effortless—like the breeze after rain.
"W-wait a minute... Monkey...? Are you Vice Admiral Garp's...?"
Tokikake stood frozen, mouth agape, expression frozen in a comically lopsided grin.
Garp, the Hero of the Marines, was a name known across the entire sea—and so was the rumor that his own son held a position of authority within the Marine.
But unlike many officers stationed safely at Headquarters, Garp's son had personally volunteered for patrol duty across the Grand Line. That's why Tokikake had never seen him in person—until now.
Dragon turned to him with that same soft smile.
"You must be Lieutenant Commander Tokikake, right? I don't spend much time at HQ, but even in the Grand Line, your reputation as a genius reaches our ears."
Tokikake blinked, then suddenly turned crimson.
"O-oh! Genius? That's... that's really just an exaggeration! You're too kind, Rear Admiral Dragon!"
He twirled in place, red hearts metaphorically blooming above his head, internally squealing:
"Garp the Hero's son! He called me a genius!! Hahahaha!!"
Dragon chuckled, then turned toward Gion, his gaze gentle.
"It's been a while, Gion."
A rare, genuine smile softened Gion's usual stern face.
"Too long, Dragon-nii."
They were both second-generation Marines—children born into the military elite. Naturally, they'd known each other growing up.
From the sidelines, Darren watched with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling.
So she can smile like that.
It was the first time he'd seen that kind of smile on Gion's face—warm, sincere.
He had to admit... Dragon, future leader of the Revolutionary Army, had a charisma unlike anyone else.
Then Dragon turned toward Momonga, his expression calm but purposeful.
"Let me guess—this is Commodore Darren's right-hand man, Deputy Commander of the 321st Branch, Lieutenant Commander Momonga?"
Caught off guard by the genuine friendliness in Dragon's voice, Momonga straightened, almost awkwardly.
"Yes, sir. Rear Admiral Dragon."
He raised a crisp salute.
"No need for such formality," Dragon said, waving his hand. "We're all comrades here."
He paused for a moment, then added with a smile, "Ah, almost forgot—congratulations are in order."
"The appointment just came through from HQ. Starting today, you'll be the new Supreme Commander of the North Blue."
He raised his hand, and from the nearby Marine battleship, a young sailor leapt off the deck and sprinted over, handing Dragon a document with practiced precision.
"Rear Admiral Dragon!"
The young Marine blinked in surprise, then looked up at Dragon with wide, gleaming eyes.
He remembered my name?!
Felmer had only boarded Dragon's ship two days ago. Hundreds of crew on board... and yet the Rear Admiral had remembered him.
That was the kind of man Dragon was.
With utmost solemnity, Dragon handed the document to Momonga.
"Congratulations, Captain Momonga—the new commander of the North Blue."
Momonga accepted it with both hands.
"All glory... belongs to justice."
They saluted each other.
Then Dragon turned, his sharp eyes landing on Darren.
"Commodore Darren, my ship needs a bit of resupplying. We still have some time before departure. Care to talk?"
Darren grinned. "Of course, Rear Admiral."
Even if Dragon hadn't suggested it, Darren would've initiated the conversation himself.
After all, this was Dragon during his Marine years—long before the world would know him as the most dangerous revolutionary alive.
What was this young Dragon like?
What kind of justice did he believe in?
How did he feel about the World Government?
One thing was already clear: Dragon had a presence. A natural ease. A quiet authority that drew respect without effort.
He smiled warmly, treated every subordinate with dignity, and walked with the air of someone born to lead.
He was a leader. Through and through.
"This way, Rear Admiral."
Darren gestured toward the base commander's office, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, the two men walked off, shoulder to shoulder.
"Psst. Gion. You see what I see?"
Tokikake sidled up beside her, voice low, eyes gleaming.
"Those two... couldn't be more different if they tried."
Gion blinked, then looked toward the fortress entrance.
Darren and Dragon walked side by side—equal in stride, similar in height and build.
But then she noticed the light.
Dragon walked beneath golden sunlight.
Darren walked within shadow.
Their Justice cloaks billowed behind them, but the contrast in light cast them in stark duality.
At that same moment...
Somewhere in the Grand Line.
A massive Marine battleship cut through the waves, its wake splitting the sea like a blade.
"Admiral Sengoku, at our current speed, we'll arrive at HQ by nightfall."
Sengoku nodded. "Understood."
He was in a good mood. No—he was in a great mood.
Byrnndi World had been eliminated. The World Government had already issued formal commendations.
Sure, he hadn't personally fought in the battle—but officially, the mission had been carried out under his command.
Even the Gorosei had expressed their approval, praising the operation's success and encouraging Sengoku to keep up the good work.
And then there was the tech.
The North Blue Fleet's airborne ships and weaponry... they had opened his eyes to new possibilities. He was already imagining what Marineford's elite squadrons would look like with that kind of firepower.
Sengoku flipped open the file Darren had submitted: a detailed breakdown of the North Blue's weapons and costs.
"Pfft... it's just money. If the North Blue could afford it, then Marine Headquarters—"
And then—stood up so fast his chair toppled.