Tachibana Kyūjō lifted a napkin from the table and casually wiped the corner of his mouth.

Then he turned toward the communications officer standing beside him and offered a calm smile.

“Want a bite? Today’s Sea King roast is pretty good, you know.”

The soldier quickly shook his head in panic. “N-no thank you, Young Master Kyū—ah, I mean…!”

Realizing his slip, the man immediately straightened up and saluted sharply.

“Cadet Tachibana Kyūjō! Please come with me at once!”

— — —

By the time Kyūjō stepped into the Fleet Admiral’s office, he found himself standing before the highest-ranking officers of the entire Marine force.

The room was filled with towering, battle-hardened veterans—each radiating an oppressive presence honed by decades of combat.

Yet Kyūjō showed no trace of intimidation. At over two meters and eighty centimeters tall, he was one of the most physically imposing figures there.

There was no reason to feel fear…

Well—perhaps for the three men seated at the front.

The three Admirals of the Marines.

Akainu—the man of magma, whose very presence carried the heat of his fury.

Aokiji—the master of eternal cold, hidden behind an air of lazy detachment.

And Kizaru—the sly-faced man in dark shades, the embodiment of light, wearing a smile that never seemed entirely sincere.

They were the absolute peak of Marine strength—wielders of top-class Devil Fruits with influence rivaling even the Four Emperors.

— — —

Kyūjō took in the room for a moment before shifting his gaze toward the man seated in the central chair—Fleet Admiral Sengoku—and smiled.

“Uncle Sengoku, what did you call me in for?”

The casual address instantly tightened the atmosphere.

The senior officers exchanged silent glances. They all knew of Kyūjō’s personal connection to the Fleet Admiral… but this was still the highest command room in the Marines.

“Ahem… ahem…” Sengoku cleared his throat, masking his own awkwardness, before scolding with a half-serious glare.

“Don’t call me that in an official setting!”

Then, adopting a more serious tone, he continued.

“Now, tell me—what exactly happened today? Why did you end up clashing with Vice Admiral Onigumo?”

Kyūjō shrugged, looking slightly irritated but otherwise calm.

He knew the truth—Ghost Spider had genuinely intended to kill him today.

So why should he have held back?

Keeping his voice steady, Kyūjō recounted the entire sequence at the East Coast—starting from the challenge, to the final deciding slash. No exaggerations, no omissions.

Fortunately, no one in the room spoke up to defend Ghost Spider.

The moderates and pragmatists in Marine HQ stayed silent. Many had long been fed up with the man’s arrogance and rigid nature.

Even though Ghost Spider was from Akainu’s faction, the Red Dog Admiral himself made no move to push for punishment.

After all—who would dare try to discipline a boy with such a strong background… and even stronger power?

— — —

Amid the quiet, Vice Admiral Tsuru—the highest-ranking strategist—rose to her feet, her sharp gaze sweeping the room.

“Then what about the patrol route Ghost Spider was in charge of?” she asked.

“The G-2 Branch—who will take responsibility now?”

Her voice remained calm as she continued.

“Medical reports just came in. Onigumo will need at least half a year to recover.”

What she didn’t say out loud—was that even if his body healed, his combat power would never be the same. The damage was too severe.

If Kyūjō had added just a fraction more force into that slash, Ghost Spider’s spine would have been split clean in two.

The fact that the man was still alive at all… was only thanks to Vegapunk’s black technology embedded in the Marine medical division.

Hearing Tsuru’s update, the Vice Admirals exchanged glances—each quietly gauging the others.

Yet none of them felt bold—or foolish—enough to volunteer for G-2’s command.

The one most qualified, Vice Admiral Momonga, was too valuable in G-1, a strategic base guarding the Red Line and the front lines protecting Mariejois and the World Government.

Which meant—no one could be spared for G-2.

The room fell into silence.

— — —

Tsuru’s eyes scanned the room again… and settled on Tachibana Kyūjō.

After a short pause, she spoke.

“Then why don’t we assign Kyūjō?”

“This started because of him. Let him handle it himself. With his current strength, guarding G-2 shouldn’t be impossible.”

Kyūjō rubbed his temples and let out a long sigh.

“Tsuru-san, please don’t force me… I haven’t even graduated from the training academy yet. This isn’t how the procedure works.”

In truth, he had zero interest in the position.

Running a Marine base wasn’t just about fighting pirates and maintaining order. It meant overseeing troop drills, dealing with dozens of World Government affiliate nations—and wading through endless political rot and bureaucracy.

Here in HQ, he had free meals, free training, and a comfortable bed. Who in their right mind would give that up?

But—

No sooner had he spoken than the big names began to weigh in.

Akainu said curtly, “I support Tsuru’s proposal.”

Kizaru, in his usual lazy drawl, added with a faint grin,

“My, my~ To think a boy as talented as Kyūjō hasn’t graduated yet… Zéphyr-sensei really is putting more care into the new generation these days~.”

The only one who stayed quiet was Aokiji, still leaning back with his eyes closed beneath his sleep mask.

— — —

Tsuru spoke again, this time looking directly at Sengoku.

“In that case, graduation for this year’s cadets is only a few months away, correct?”

“Why don’t we accelerate the process for those whose abilities are already up to standard?”

“They can be stationed across the Four Blues, which will help ease HQ’s burden.”

“And as for Kyūjō, we assign him two deputies. Let him command G-2.”

Her suggestion hit right at the heart of Sengoku’s concerns.

The Four Blues, once stable, had been thrown into unrest ever since the death of the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger.

Pirates were spilling out from North and West Blue… even East Blue—the most peaceful sea—was now in disarray thanks to poor leadership in Loguetown.

But before making the final call… there was one man whose opinion was essential.

Zéphyr—the former Admiral known as “Black Arm,” and the primary instructor of the Marine Training Academy.

— — —

Soon after, the legendary Marine trainer stepped into the command room at Sengoku’s personal request, escorted by a young communications officer.

The moment he entered, every senior officer in the room stood and saluted in unison.

“Welcome, Instructor Zéphyr!”

This was the respect earned from over twenty years of training generation after generation of Marine elites.

Even the three Admirals at the peak of Marine power showed their respect—though in Kizaru’s case, it was with clear reluctance. The memories of Zéphyr’s brutal training still lingered.

Zéphyr returned a curt nod, his sharp gaze locking on Kyūjō—a look that was more than a simple reprimand.

“Sengoku. What did you call me here for?”

The Fleet Admiral didn’t waste words.

“Are there many cadets already at graduation level? I’m considering early release for those ready.”

Zéphyr paused, then tilted his chin toward Kyūjō.

“Besides this brat, there are a few close to the mark. They’re ready to be deployed.”

“Smoker, Hina, Loveland, Von Johann, Donovan, Niral… All of them are capable of serving as field officers.”

At the name “Smoker,” Sengoku’s eyes narrowed with interest.

“Smoker… the Logia user, smoke type?”

Zéphyr gave a short nod. He had never been fond of the term “Devil Fruit” to begin with.

— — —

Five days later, in the outer courtyard of the Marine Training Academy—

Tachibana Kyūjō stood in full Marine dress uniform, the wide white coat draped over his shoulders emblazoned with a single bold kanji: 正義—Justice.

It hadn’t even been a full year since he first set foot here.

And now… he was officially graduating.

A new record was set—the fastest graduation in the academy’s history.

The ripple effect was huge. Cadets like Smoker and the others were also cleared for graduation, though they received only mid-level officer ranks from HQ.

Kyūjō, however—

In a move that shocked everyone, Sengoku granted him the rank of Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral, along with an official codename: Seiryu—the Blue Dragon.

He had expected maybe a Rear Admiral position at best. But the role came with strings—he would take over G-2 from Ghost Spider, with only a few days to prepare.

Alongside inheriting Ghost Spider’s deputy, Sengoku appointed a new one from the current cadet batch:

Hina—the “Black Cage,” a Paramecia user of the Ori Ori no Mi, capable of trapping targets in inescapable black iron bars.

At the academy gates, Kyūjō stood with an advanced manual on Busōshoku Haki in hand, watching Zéphyr’s back as the instructor walked away.

In his heart, he made a quiet vow.

Zéphyr-sensei… you don’t have to worry anymore.

I’ll prove to the world—that strength forged through human will and body will never lose to any Devil Fruit.

With that resolve burning stronger than ever, Tachibana Kyūjō took another step toward the realm of true swordsmen.

— — —

That night, Sengoku invited Kyūjō for a private talk.

They spoke about many things—the Marine system, the chaos of the pirate world, the state of the Four Blues—and eventually, the conversation drifted toward ideals and the meaning of life.

By the end, Sengoku wasn’t speaking as Fleet Admiral, but as a wise uncle passing down his life’s experience.

As dawn approached, Sengoku asked one last question.

“Kyūjō, what kind of justice do you believe in?”

Kyūjō smiled faintly. It seemed to be a Marine tradition to ask this.

Without hesitation, he replied—

“My heart is clear like a mirror. Wherever it points, that’s the path I’ll walk.”

“As long as I never betray my own heart—that is true justice.”

Sengoku nodded, though he didn’t entirely grasp the meaning. But somehow… it felt right.

“And if I put that into simpler words?” he asked.

Kyūjō’s answer was light.

“It means… I am justice.”

Sengoku: “…”

(Author’s note: Don’t take this too seriously. Feel free to interpret it yourself.)

— — —

Three days later—Kyūjō and his new deputy, Hina the Black Cage, boarded the warship formerly commanded by Ghost Spider.

On the deck, a man with round glasses and a sharp administrative air approached with brisk steps.

“Vice Admiral Seiryu, the ship is ready to depart at any time.”

This was Amos—the administrative vice commander personally assigned by Sengoku to handle G-2’s daily operations.

Though he lacked combat strength, Amos was a genius in logistics and base management. Ironically, he’d originally been hand-picked by Ghost Spider himself.

Kyūjō smiled easily.

“Vice Commander Amos, we’re setting sail today.”

“But from now on, don’t call this the Ghost Spider anymore.”

“Change its name… to Seiryu. The Blue Dragon.”

“Once we reach the base, make sure every flag and emblem is replaced with the new name.”

Amos nodded without hesitation. “Understood, Vice Admiral Seiryu.”

Truthfully, everything felt a little rushed. If he’d had more time, Kyūjō would have waited for his own warship to be built.

But he didn’t mind.

With over three hundred trained soldiers at his back, Tachibana Kyūjō—the Blue Dragon—set off on his first voyage to G-2.

And with that—

The steps of a swordsman who would shake the coming era had officially begun.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep