The stars gleamed gently above Marineford, their dim light casting silver reflections over the rooftops and gardens of the base. Darren had just stepped into the small garden outside his newly assigned house when a lazy, teasing voice called out to him from under the shade of the oak tree.
"So the rumors are true. You're loaded, huh?"
A figure reclined comfortably in a beach chair beneath the tree's leafy cover. It was Dragon — Rear Admiral Monkey D. Dragon, to be exact — looking completely at ease, a smirk playing at his lips.
Darren let out a light chuckle.
"Breaking into someone's yard uninvited isn't exactly model Marine behavior."
Dragon shrugged. "Come on, don't be stingy. This place is way too big for one guy to enjoy alone."
Darren had known Dragon long enough not to bother arguing. He dropped into the empty beach chair beside him, his gaze drifting toward the night sky, calm and silent.
Not one to sit quietly for long, Dragon tried to spark conversation.
"Congrats on taking the top seat of the Elite Officer Training Camp."
Darren responded without looking away from the stars. "It's just the beginning. Don't forget, Kuzan's still called 'the Monster' for a reason." He turned his head slightly. "What about you, Rear Admiral Dragon? Not going home tonight?"
"Nope. Got into another argument with the old man. Don't want to look at that sour face again tonight."
"Oh?" Darren offered mildly. "What was it about this time?"
Dragon sighed, folding his hands behind his head.
"I told him I wanted to become an admiral someday. He blew up like a startled cat. Said I wasn't cut out for it, that I should aim to be a Vice Admiral like him and live a free, laid-back life."
He frowned, bitterness creeping into his tone.
"He never wanted promotion, sure — but that doesn't mean the rest of us don't."
Darren turned his head slightly. "So you hate being called 'the hero's son'?"
Dragon blinked. "What? No, it's not that..."
He clenched his fists.
"It's just — everyone expects me to live up to that title. But nobody ever asks what I want."
Darren rolled his eyes. Classic rich kid problems.
"So what do you want, then?"
Dragon sat up straighter, his eyes suddenly shining.
He leaned forward, voice filled with conviction.
"Darren, ever since I was a kid, I've had a dream. I want to change the world."
Darren arched an eyebrow.
"Change the world? The world's treated you pretty well, I'd say."
"Bathed in the light of a 'hero.' Raised in comfort most can't even dream of. Promoted to Marineford's youngest lieutenant commander at fifteen. When I was that age, I was still a grunt scrubbing toilets and dodging mob thugs in the North Blue."
"You had elite officers praising you. I had pirates trying to stab me."
"So spare me the self-pity."
Dragon turned red with embarrassment. "That's not what I meant..."
Darren waved him off. "Then explain. Why change the world?"
Dragon inhaled deeply.
"When I was little, I lived in a village in the East Blue. Foosha Village. It was a peaceful place — no war, no pirates. Just windmills and families."
"But one day, a ship full of refugees drifted into port. They were barely alive. Emaciated, sunburned, too weak to walk. Most of them died within days."
"Their home country was devastated by famine, made worse by pirate raids. Over half the population starved."
"Our villagers tried to help, but... it wasn't enough. They were too far gone."
He clenched his fists tightly.
"That country was just two days' sailing from Foosha Village. Just two hundred nautical miles. And yet — it was the difference between paradise and hell."
"I kept thinking, if I'd had more power... more resources... I could have saved them."
"If I become an admiral — no, even Fleet Admiral — I can lead the Marines toward real justice. Not just punishing pirates, but preventing tragedies before they happen."
He stood up, eyes blazing.
"I want to use the justice of the Marines to change the world."
"To bring happiness to everyone."
He turned to look at the young man standing beside him — idealistic, burning with hope. For a moment, he almost felt envious.
"Maybe Vice Admiral Garp is right."
Dragon blinked. "Huh?"
"You're not suited to be an admiral. Let alone Fleet Admiral."
Dragon opened his mouth to argue, but Darren was already standing up.
"It's late. Go home. I need rest."
As Darren closed the door behind him, he paused.
"Dragon... the world is far crueler than you imagine."
"One day, you'll understand."
And Dragon was left standing alone in the moonlit garden.
For a long, long time.