Compared to Shiryu, who always had a bit of an image to maintain, their other roommate—Rosinante—was far more open.
The moment he saw Sadaharu, his eyes practically lit up like stars. He rushed over, eager to give the little guy a big snuggle.
Unfortunately, he moved too fast and startled the pup—Sadaharu snapped at him with a loud chomp, sinking his teeth in hard enough to make Rosinante yelp and jump back, wailing in pain.
Still, Rosinante didn't take it personally. He rummaged through his stash of food, pulled out some leftover bread, and carefully tore it into small pieces to feed Sadaharu by hand. That finally won over the little fluffball's trust.
Nao just watched, amused, not bothering to intervene. A thought crossed his mind—when Sadaharu grew up, what would happen if Rosinante pissed him off again?
It wouldn't just be a bite anymore. He'd probably lose his entire head.
Once Rosinante finished freshening up, the three of them left for breakfast together, then headed to the training grounds.
Nao still participated in group drills—swordsmanship, physical training, and the more tedious "academic" lessons—with the rest of the recruits. It was only when it came time for Six Powers (Rokushiki) combat drills that he split off, receiving one-on-one training from Zephyr himself.
On the way, Nao pulled up his system panel and spent 20,000 points to upgrade the Thick Skin passive from Basic to Intermediate.
The result? His blunt-force resistance went up by another 10%.
Not bad at all.
He even started wondering if, once he mastered Armament Haki hardening, he could ask Garp to help test the limits of his skill.
Sure, the guy was known as the Marine's One Punch Man, but as long as he held back a little, Nao figured he could probably tank it. At the very least, he wouldn't get sent flying a few kilometers like last time when Zephyr accidentally let loose.
That said, after upgrading the skill, Nao noticed it could still be leveled up further—with another 10% damage resistance on the table.
The catch?
It now cost 80,000 points.
The jump in cost made the upgrade look far less appealing. So even though he had points to spare, he decided to hold off for now. Better to wait until he actually needed the boost.
That day at Marineford, the weather was perfect—gentle breeze, warm sun.
In the distance, white seagulls flew past the endless blue sky. The maple-lined promenade sparkled in the morning light, and every breath of air felt so crisp it refreshed the soul.
A group of tall figures in pristine Marine coats walked slowly beneath the glowing canopy of trees.
"Been a long time since I was last here… this path hasn't changed at all."
At the front of the group was a young Rear Admiral with a mohawk. He looked around, nostalgia in his eyes. "Brings back memories. I trained on this very path under Instructor Zephyr… up at dawn every day, busting my ass."
"Yeah… hard to believe it's been so many years already."
Behind him walked a Captain with a long, waterfall-like mustache and an unusually tall skull—distinctive and instantly recognizable. He smiled and added, "After I graduated and got sent to the North Blue, I haven't been back in almost three years. If I remember right, you've been away even longer, Momonga."
"Four years, actually," the mohawked man—Momonga—replied with a nod. "I came back briefly last year when I got promoted to Rear Admiral, but it was a quick stop. Only stayed a few hours and didn't get to visit the Elite Camp."
"Tch. Enough with the sentimental crap. Bunch of grown men going all soft on me," came a sharp voice from behind. "Momonga, Strawberry, quit yapping. Don't forget we still have to report to Fleet Admiral Kong this afternoon."
"Let's pay our respects to Zephyr and get moving already!"
Momonga didn't even need to turn around to know who it was—Onigumo, a fellow alumnus of the Elite Camp, two years his junior. The guy had just been transferred back from the West Blue and now held the rank of Captain.
"You haven't changed a bit…" Momonga muttered, glancing at his hot-headed junior, who was chewing on a cigar with that same scowling face as always. He looked like he wanted to say something, but gave up with a sigh.
Aside from the three of them, there were about a dozen others in the group—recently recalled officers from various Blue seas and G-branch bases, now reassigned to Marineford.
Momonga was the only Rear Admiral among them, but most of the others held the rank of Captain or higher.
And despite their ranks, all of them were still young. Even Momonga, the eldest, was only twenty-five. Clearly, they were elite talents of their generation.
But what truly tied them together—the reason for their rapid rise—was the same distinguished identity they all shared:
They were disciples of the former Admiral "Black Arm" Zephyr.
Today was the day they had agreed to return to the Elite Camp together to visit their old teacher.
The training field was filled with movement.
It was already past ten in the morning.
Momonga watched the recruits practicing and couldn't help but smile in quiet reminiscence.
He wasn't the only one. Several others looked similarly wistful.
Onigumo, of course, was the exception—clearly impatient and growing more annoyed with every passing minute. He kept grumbling for Momonga to speed things up.
After searching the area, however, they found no sign of Zephyr.
Fortunately, some familiar instructors were still around. Momonga approached one and asked.
The reply?
Zephyr had just left about half an hour ago—summoned for an emergency high-level meeting. Even though he was technically semi-retired, he still had to attend.
Momonga frowned and turned back to the group. After a quick discussion, they decided to stay and wait. After all, it had already been thirty minutes. Maybe the meeting wouldn't take much longer.
With nothing better to do, the group of young Marine officers settled by the sidelines of the training field like old men on a park bench—basking in the sun, chatting idly, and observing the new recruits in action.
"These must be the newest batch, right? Not even a year into training?"
Momonga squinted at the field and nodded approvingly. "Some of them already have a solid grasp of the Six Powers. Not bad at all."
"Well, they are handpicked," a nearby Captain added with a smile. "And with Zephyr teaching them personally, the standouts will probably be training Haki in no time. Their futures look bright."
Just then, a grating voice interrupted the mood.
"Pfft. What are you guys smoking? These rookies?"
Everyone turned with a frown—of course, it was Onigumo.
He was lounging on a boulder, legs crossed, casually pointing at the recruits and scoffing.
"Look at them. A little basic drill and they're already drenched in sweat and gasping for air. Their bodies clearly aren't ready. And these are the ones you think are gonna learn Haki? Ha! Half of them probably won't even get there by graduation."
"Onigumo!" Momonga hissed, clearly irritated. He glanced around nervously, then lowered his voice with a rare flash of anger. "Watch your mouth. These aren't just rookies—they're our juniors. What do you think Zephyr-sensei would say if he heard you trashing his students like this?"
"Instructor Zephyr is Instructor Zephyr. The rookies are the rookies," Onigumo replied without a hint of remorse. He was clearly tired of waiting, and now his mouth was running freely. "Don't lump them together. It's not like he handpicks every batch. Sometimes you just get a class full of filler—what's the big deal?"
This time, his voice carried far and loud—too loud.
The insult was heard by several nearby recruits, who had been training not far off.
Many of them abruptly stopped mid-movement, turning to glare at the group of officers with barely restrained fury in their eyes.