"D-Don’t call me by my title..."
Having her chin lifted so playfully, and hearing herself addressed as "Commander Gion" in that teasing tone — a strange wave of embarrassment surged in Gion’s chest.
"Oh? But this is your personal office here in the training camp. If I don’t use your title... then what should I call you?"
Darren looked down with interest at the mature woman in his arms. Seeing the usually cold and aloof Gion wear such a shy, dazed expression — he couldn’t get enough. A smirk tugged at his lips.
"You know this is my office! You damned bastard!!"
Noticing the mischief in his gaze, Gion retaliated with a fierce bite on Darren’s shoulder — only to find not even a mark left behind, while her own teeth ached slightly.
What a joke. If Steel Body could be undone so easily, that would be far too absurd.
"Exactly because it’s your office that I couldn’t hold back. My bad, my bad."
Darren chuckled slyly, playing up his usual rogueish charm.
"But you were clearly enjoying it too..."
This lecherous bastard — the moment he stepped inside the office, he locked the door behind him and couldn’t wait to pounce.
What made her feel even more ashamed was... for some reason, maybe because it was the office, she had felt more sensitive than usual.
That constant risk of being discovered... the wicked thrill of it pulsed in her chest. Each of Darren’s touches sent sparks skittering across her skin like electric current — tingling and ticklish.
She muttered under her breath, unwilling to admit the truth.
Darren smiled, brushing her sweat-damp hair gently behind her ear, and softly praised:
"You’re so beautiful, Gion."
Mature elegance, fair cheeks still flushed with lingering heat, red lips exhaling warm breath, weary yet lazy allure, proud personality with a touch of shy contradiction... At this moment, Gion truly exuded a unique charm.
Gion scoffed, slapped his hand away with a cold face, and raised her chin high, revealing her slender, snowy neck — like a proud white swan.
But Darren clearly caught the barely-there curl at the corner of her lips.
What a tsundere little lady...
"Haven’t seen me for a while — did you miss me?"
Darren exhaled a stream of smoke, wrapping an arm around her soft waist, voice low and warm.
"No!" Gion huffed, turning her head away.
Darren sighed dramatically, his tone sorrowful.
"That’s too bad. I even brought you a gift..."
Gion turned toward him in surprise — only to meet his teasing eyes. Her cheeks burned instantly.
Trying to cover her reaction, she stammered,
"I-I wasn’t looking forward to your gift or anything..."
Darren just chuckled. With a sleight of hand, a coin appeared between his fingers.
"A coin?" Gion blinked.
"Not just any coin," Darren said proudly. "This is one of the spoils from my latest mission — a coin from Coin Island."
As he spoke, faint blue arcs of electricity sparked between his fingers.
A strange sight followed.
In Gion’s widening eyes, the coin began to melt and writhe like a living thing. It stretched, reshaped...
Like strands from a master craftsman’s loom, the liquid metal twisted and folded, weaving and layering until it blossomed into the form of a delicate flower.
In Gion’s eyes, it looked like a soft golden rose, blooming radiantly in the palm of the Marine rear admiral.
As Darren held the coin-rose, he exhaled slowly — unaware that a sheen of cold sweat had formed on his brow.
If not for his recent growth through countless battles, and the progress he’d made in developing his Devil Fruit powers — he wouldn’t have been able to do this half a year ago.
To reshape a single coin into a gold-foil rose — the precision required was unimaginable. Only a user with an extremely high mastery of the Magnetic Overload fruit could achieve such a feat.
"I thought, Coin Island doesn’t have many specialties... so I came up with this idea. From now on, whenever I’m on a mission, I’ll take one coin from each country and craft you a rose ..."
Before Darren could finish, his lips were smothered by a pair of warm ones.
Only after ten full seconds did they separate.
Darren stared, stunned, at Gion’s misty eyes and reddened cheeks. He smiled.
"So... do you like the gift?"
Gion didn’t dare meet his gaze. Her face crimson, she simply nodded.
Looking at the exquisite golden rose in her hand, her lips involuntarily curved upward.
There were many who pursued her across this vast sea.
Talented heirs of merchant guilds, princes of allied nations, elite Marines, gifted nobles...
And their methods of courtship were just as varied.
More wealth than one could spend in a lifetime, famous blades tailored to her taste, all manner of rare treasures... She’d lost count of the letters and flowers she’d received.
But never before had anyone given her a gift so "cheap" yet so "precious."
Coins were everywhere on that island — countless, meaningless.
But thinking of how, on that very island, Darren had used those coins to utterly destroy the so-called invincible fleet of Golden Lion Shiki...
That one coin now carried unique meaning.
More importantly — unlike anyone else, Darren had infused his heartfelt intention into that coin with his own hands, using his Devil Fruit ability.
Such a one-of-a-kind gift... how could she not love it?
"So... did you miss me during this time?"
Seeing her flustered reaction, Darren felt an even stronger urge to tease. He grinned.
Gion bit her lip and glared fiercely at him.
Darren burst into laughter, pulling her close again.
Gion’s eyes widened. Instinctively, she murmured,
"They’re fine," Darren said dismissively.
"Wait— let go— y-you bastard..."
"But you’re clearly enjoying it too."
"H-How could I... something ..."
A soft, trembling moan echoed through the empty office.
Happy moments always pass quickly.
A full two hours later, Darren finally emerged from Gion’s office, looking thoroughly satisfied.
Now that he had mastered Tekkai for "special applications," Darren was practically reborn — unstoppable.
As for Gion... tsundere to the core. Even though she clearly enjoyed it, she often put on a proud front.
But that very contrast made the "training" all the more fun.
Darren straightened his collar, smoothed out his disheveled uniform, and marched confidently toward the officers’ residential quarters.