Another two hours passed.
The soft light of dusk filtered through the drifting autumn leaves in the courtyard, casting dappled shadows. Dust swirled in the air, rippling like waves.
A wide pink kimono, delicate undergarments, white socks, and a long sash lay scattered across the tatami floor.
Darren held the stunning beauty Toki in one arm, while the other hand gradually "shaped" a cherry blossom made of golden foil, his gaze gentle.
"Toki, I know you love cherry blossoms."
"For this mission — well, Coin Island doesn’t have any real specialties, so I thought of this... I promise you, from now on, every time I’m on assignment, I’ll take one coin from each country and craft you a cherry blossom ... as a keepsake of our love."
Toki lay curled in Darren’s arms like a docile kitten, the afterglow still lingering on her blushing cheeks.
She gazed at the exquisite blossom in Darren’s hand, mist rising in her eyes like a shimmering veil, and whispered softly,
"Thank you, my dear husband. I love it."
With careful hands, she brushed her fingers over the scars — old and new — across Darren’s chest, her tone tender yet full of concern.
"But all I truly want is for you to return safely. That would be the greatest gift of all."
Darren chuckled, "That won’t be a problem."
Looking down at the beauty in his arms, he couldn’t help but compare Toki and Gion.
In terms of looks, Toki clearly had the upper hand. After all, she was the woman who, in the original story, gave birth to Hiyori — the most celebrated courtesan in Wano.
But Gion’s body was far more explosive. Years of training had given her a pair of long, toned legs — firm, powerful, and exhilarating.
As for personality, each had her own charm.
Toki made Darren feel at ease — her soft, gentle nature seemed to melt away all burdens and tension.
Gion, on the other hand — so fiery and prideful — was endlessly amusing and provocative. She brought out his desire to conquer.
Thinking of all this, the smile on Darren’s lips deepened.
Isn’t this the life they fought for as Marines?
If life was bitter and dry, then no matter how noble the cause, being a Marine would be far too stifling.
"How long will you stay home this time, my dear?"
Toki traced slow circles on Darren’s chest with her slender fingers, her voice like a caress.
Darren thought for a moment, then smiled.
"Probably won’t be going on missions for a while. Gotta give others a chance to shine."
"Besides, there’s less than a month until I graduate from the training camp. I still haven’t finished all my cultural course credits..."
"If there’s any mission, it’ll probably be the internship before graduation."
Training camp included academics too — since it was designed for elite officers, the curriculum was always meant to cultivate future leaders.
Navigation, meteorology, geography, world history, naval tactics — a wide range of subjects.
Although the courses weren’t especially deep, Darren had spent most of the past six months skipping class, choosing instead to train privately with Garp. So now, he needed time to catch up.
As for the field internship — it was a long-standing tradition.
Near graduation, Zephyr, as chief instructor, would lead all the cadets on an actual mission. It served both as hands-on experience and a final exam.
The mission’s content varied every year, depending on current world events. Zephyr himself set the parameters and graded each cadet’s performance. There was no way to cheat using past years’ examples.
Dark clouds churned in the sky, as if night had fallen upon the world.
"Judgment of the Gods!!"
A massive pillar of lightning burst down from the heavens like a roaring dragon, crashing into the center of the island.
For a moment, everything went silent. The blinding white light swallowed all sight.
An earth-shattering thunderclap exploded outward.
The violent blast bloomed in the island’s center. From the impact zone, hurricane-force winds erupted in every direction, uprooting every tree and plant within a kilometer.
Dust surged like waves. Flames flickered endlessly.
No one knew how much time had passed.
At last, the black smoke began to clear. Through the flames, a tall figure stepped out in black military boots.
A flash of blue lightning streaked through the air, gathering into a human form.
Momonga — his body crackling with lightning from the Rumble-Rumble Fruit — looked at the completely unharmed Marine rear admiral before him and sighed.
"You came all the way back to the North Blue just to crush my self-esteem, didn’t you?"
Darren dusted off his clothes.
The ground beneath his feet was pitted and scorched. He smiled.
"I have to check in on your training every now and then. See if you’ve made progress... The Rumble-Rumble Fruit really is as terrifying as they say."
That was Judgment of the Gods, his full-power attack... and it didn’t even scratch this guy’s skin — and he’s calling it "terrifying"!?
If he could beat this bastard, Momonga would’ve pinned him to the ground and pounded him long ago.
...He was just asking for a beating.
Seeing the twitch in Momonga’s eye, Darren’s mood improved greatly.
He patted the man on the shoulder and smiled.
"Your development of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit has exceeded my expectations."
"I can’t afford to let you down. Otherwise, it would be a waste of what’s supposed to be the strongest of all Logia Fruits."
Darren shook his head with a smile.
"I knew you’d pull it off."
He wasn’t just flattering him.
Momonga’s progress was indeed impressive.
In the original story, he was one of the few elite vice admirals in Marine Headquarters — a pillar of justice in the world. His talent ranked just below the admirals and their candidates.
With such raw talent, plus Darren’s guidance and Momonga’s own relentless effort, he’d managed to develop the Rumble-Rumble Fruit to near the level of Enel in less than half a year.
It was both expected... and surprising.
Clearly, Momonga had an excellent affinity with this fruit.
At this rate, once he further improved his swordsmanship and mastered Haki, it was only a matter of time before he reached admiral candidate level.
As for stepping into full admiral-level combat power... that would depend on fate.