The relentless sun hammered down on the immaculate parade ground of Marineford, each polished stone reflecting the nervous energy that vibrated through the assembled ranks of elite camp graduates. My own pulse hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs, a stark contrast to the booming pronouncements of Fleet Admiral Sengoku that echoed across the plaza. This is it, I thought, my gaze fixed on the imposing figure on the dais. The culmination of three grueling years of training, the crucible that forged us into officers worthy of the Marine name. Today, the sweat and exhaustion of those long years would transmute into tangible recognition, the hard-won skills rewarded with the weight of new epaulets and the crisp salute of subordinates.
A ripple of anticipation surged through the ranks as Sengoku's voice resonated across the open space, each syllable carrying the immense weight of the World Government's authority. Names were called, each announcement punctuated by the sharp click of heels on stone and the swelling tide of pride in the recipient's bearing. I watched as Dory's name echoed through the air. His reddish-brown hair was cropped short, accentuating the severe lines of his face, with stiff, brush-like sideburns framing his intense gaze. He earned this, I thought, recalling his relentless dedication throughout those three years of brutal exercises, his tactical mind as sharp and precise as any seasoned veteran. When Sengoku's pronouncement confirmed his promotion to Rear Admiral, a genuine nod of respect escaped me.
As he rejoined the ranks, his new insignia gleaming in the sunlight, I offered my congratulations. "Well done, Dory. Three years well spent."
His usual dead-serious expression softened infinitesimally, a curt nod his only acknowledgment. "Hn. The expected outcome of three years of focused effort." His reddish-brown sideburns remained rigidly in place.
Time seemed to stretch, each name called a beat in the slow drumroll of expectation. My own anticipation grew with each passing moment. Finally, the resonant baritone of the Master Chief Petty Officer announced, "Lazarus!"
A hush fell over the remaining graduates. I felt the weight of a hundred gazes as I stepped forward, my boots echoing on the polished stone. This is it, I repeated internally, a strange calm settling over my nerves. The past three years in the elite camp had been a relentless test, pushing me beyond the perceived limits of my physical and mental endurance. But I had met every challenge head-on, my strategic mind and unwavering resolve consistently placing me at the forefront throughout those long years. This moment felt both inevitable and utterly surreal. While my Armament Haki had been honed to a peak level through rigorous training, my Observation Haki still felt… novice, a frustrating gap in my otherwise formidable skillset.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku's gaze, usually stern and unwavering, held a flicker of something akin to respect as I stood before him. "Lazarus," his voice resonated with the authority that commanded the entire Marine force, "your performance during these past three years in the elite camp has been exemplary. Your dedication, your strategic thinking, and your unyielding spirit have marked you as a truly exceptional officer." He paused, the silence amplifying the weight of his words. My breath hitched in my throat. "By the authority vested in me by the World Government, I hereby promote you to the rank of Vice Admiral!"
A collective murmur rippled through the assembled marines. Vice Admiral. The weight of the title settled upon me, both exhilarating and daunting. A rank usually attained after years of dedicated service, through countless battles fought and won. To achieve it straight out of the three-year elite camp, at the age of thirty, was almost unheard of. I'm only the fourth in Marine history to achieve this after just three years, I realized, a profound sense of responsibility settling upon my shoulders.
A wave of congratulatory greetings washed over me as I returned to my place. Dory's handshake was firm, his reddish-brown sideburns sharp against his cheek. His gaze remained intense. "Vice Admiral Lazarus," he stated, his voice devoid of any playful tone. "Three years of consistent top performance. Efficient. But do not assume superiority. I will reach Admiral before you."
I chuckled, the familiar rivalry a stark contrast to his dead-serious demeanor and those rigid sideburns. "We'll see, Dory. Three more years can change a lot." He's utterly fixated on his goals after these three years, I thought with a wry smile. His ambition is a force to be reckoned with, as unwavering as those sideburns.
The implications of my new rank began to sink in, heavy and exhilarating. Vice Admiral. The authority to command fleets, to propose the construction of new bases, to shape the strategic landscape of the Grand Line. Sengoku, in the brief moments after my promotion, had emphasized the need for guidance. "Lazarus," he had said, his gaze direct and unwavering, "your potential is undeniable after these three years, but experience is a vital component of true leadership. You will select a veteran Vice Admiral to serve as your mentor. Someone who can guide you through the complexities of command and the unpredictable currents of the Grand Line."
My mind immediately conjured the image of Vice Admiral Zephyr. The Black Arm. A legend in his own right, his combat prowess unmatched, his dedication to training the next generation of marines absolute. To learn under him after these three years would be an unparalleled opportunity, I thought, a surge of anticipation rising within me. His vast experience would be the perfect bedrock upon which to build my own command style.
I approached Sengoku later, my request clear and respectful. "Fleet Admiral, I respectfully request Vice Admiral Zephyr as my mentor. His three years dedicated to training make him uniquely qualified."
A slight furrow creased Sengoku's brow. "Zephyr is an invaluable asset, he wanted to be demoted to Vice Admiral so he could focus on becoming an Instructor, Lazarus. He will be dedicating his full attention to the next intake of the elite camp. His focus will be entirely on molding those raw recruits into capable officers over the next three years. He simply will not have the capacity to mentor you at this time."
A pang of disappointment hit me. The former admiral's guidance after these three years would have been invaluable, I repeated internally, the initial excitement dimming slightly. I began to mentally scroll through the list of other seasoned Vice Admirals, their names and reputations flashing through my mind. Who else could offer the kind of guidance I need after these three intense years? Especially someone who could help me refine my still-novice Observation Haki?
Before I could voice another suggestion, a booming laugh that seemed to shake the very ground echoed through the dispersing ranks. A figure of immense size and presence lumbered towards us, a wide, toothy grin splitting his weathered face. Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp. The Hero of the Marines. A living legend whose exploits were woven into the very fabric of naval history.
"Sengoku!" Garp bellowed, his voice a force of nature that turned heads across the plaza. "I'll take the brat as my student! Three years of elite training? The kid's ripe for some real action!"
Frankly, I wasn't thrilled. Garp's reputation, while undeniably impressive, was also… chaotic. His methods were unorthodox, his discipline seemingly nonexistent. While I respected his legendary status, his laid-back attitude and his pirate grandsons make me almost lose respect on him. Zephyr, with his rigid discipline and tactical brilliance, seemed a far more suitable mentor. However, the Fleet Admiral's decision was final. At least, under Garp, I knew I could probably learn a thing or two about Haki, and his raw power in a fistfight was undeniable, skills that even my rigorous three years in the elite camp hadn't fully honed. And hopefully, given his immense experience, he could also guide me in developing my still-novice Observation Haki. Still, I thought internally, a flicker of annoyance rising within me, brat? I'm a Vice Admiral now, not some fresh recruit.
Sengoku sighed, a weary hand going to his temples. "Garp, with all due respect…"
"Nonsense!" Garp's massive hand landed on my shoulder, the force of the blow nearly sending me staggering. "The kid's got fire in his eyes! Reminds me of myself, back in the day. Three years of pushing limits? He's got the spirit! Besides," he leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a stage whisper that somehow still carried across the plaza, "it'll be fun! And I'm gonna need a little time off to properly mold this raw talent." He turned his booming voice back to Sengoku. "So, Sengoku! How about a month's holiday for your old pal? Gotta dedicate myself to this promising… brat."
I exchanged a resigned glance with Sengoku, who looked like a man who had long ago accepted the delightful chaos that followed Garp like a persistent shadow. A month's holiday for him to mentor me? Hopefully, he actually focuses on helping me with my Observation Haki during that time.
Sengoku's eyes widened slightly, a vein throbbing in his temple. "A month, Garp? You want a month's leave just to… mentor Lazarus?"
Garp simply grinned, his toothy smile unwavering. "The kid's got potential! Needs proper guidance! Think of it as an investment in the future of the Marines! And I'll whip that Observation Haki into shape, don't you worry!"
After a long, drawn-out sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire Marine Corps, Sengoku finally relented. "One month, Garp. But you will be responsible for Vice Admiral Lazarus's progress during that time. And no causing any unnecessary incidents."
Garp clapped me on the back again, even harder this time. "Don't you worry your pointy little head, Sengoku! We'll be back stronger than ever! Especially the kid's seein' eye!"
I could only offer a curt nod, a polite mask over my inner turmoil. My carefully planned trajectory as a newly appointed Vice Admiral had just taken a sharp, unpredictable, and frankly, slightly concerning turn. A month-long mentorship with a Vice Admiral I barely respected, who insisted on calling me 'brat' and had just finagled a month-long holiday out of the Fleet Admiral… hopefully, that month would at least address my Observation Haki deficiencies. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered that Dory's reddish-brown sideburns hadn't even twitched during this entire exchange, his focus as unwavering as ever on his own ascent.