The students at the Training Camp had three tasks.
Train!
Train!
Train!
The Reserve Navy recruits also had three tasks.
Train!
Train!
Train!
However, the two were different.
Training at the Training Camp consisted purely of physical conditioning and simulated combat drills within the academy. The slightly more dangerous activity was going into the mountains behind the camp to fight the beasts in the forest.
The Reserve Navy's training, aside from basic physical conditioning, involved real naval battles!
Sailing out to sea and capturing pirates!
The recruits at the Reserve Camp weren't called "students." They were called "Reserve Navy."
They were the future of the Navy, its finest soldiers. Once they graduated from the Naval Academy, they would begin their careers as naval officers.
"Naval officer" was a general term. From lowest to highest, the ranks were warrant officers, commissioned officers, and senior officers.
How could they earn a higher rank upon graduation?
Their performance in the various assessments during their time in the Reserve Camp determined that. The naval battle assessments carried the most weight.
Naval battles didn't just serve as evaluations. The bounties and number of pirates captured were recorded as each recruit's military achievements.
They accumulated military achievements by capturing pirates.
The stronger they were, the more pirates they captured, and the faster their military achievements accumulated.
Those achievements would serve as the basis for their promotions after graduation.
The Reserve Camp ran on a one-year cycle, with a naval battle assessment every three months. The Elite Class was a little different.
At eight the next morning, it was time to report to the Elite Class.
Morito arrived just in time and walked into the classroom.
The instructor wouldn't begin class until eight thirty, so the room was still somewhat noisy.
But the moment Morito stepped inside, the entire classroom fell silent.
One after another, curious, probing, and faintly hostile gazes turned toward him.
Quite a few people were already in the classroom—more than twenty in total.
Doberman and Kazan were in the same year as Morito.
He recognized quite a few of the others, too.
Strawbery, Momonga, Dalmatian, Bastille, and the rest. They were younger than they'd been when they appeared in the story. Morito might not have recognized them out in the world, but at the Naval Academy, he knew them at a glance.
His gaze swept over them. What a sorry bunch.
Gion wasn't there.
Morito immediately lost interest. He headed for a seat by the window, where he could enjoy a view of the sea.
But when everyone noticed where he was going, they saw him heading for the window seat at the very back—and each of them looked as though they'd seen a ghost.
"No way. Is that guy actually thinking of—"
"He really is!"
"He sat down!"
"Looks like the wicked get what's coming to them. We won't need to lift a finger."
Some of the Hawk Faction's rising stars had planned to teach Morito a lesson today. If they "accidentally" broke both his arms and legs, well, that would just be an accident!
But the moment they saw him take the seat at the back of the classroom with the best view of the sea, they changed their minds about dealing with him themselves.
Someone else would teach him a lesson soon enough!
The Elite Class was small to begin with, and each year had even fewer new recruits.
Only Doberman and Kazan were in Morito's year. Onigumo would have qualified for the Elite Class, too, but he'd already been crippled.
It was now the sixth year since the first class, yet the Elite Class still had only a little over thirty students.
Unlike the Reserve Camp, which held four naval battle assessments a year and graduated a new class every year, the Elite Class required its graduates to reach at least the senior officer level—that is, the rank of Rear Admiral.
Unless they encountered some incredible stroke of luck, there was no way to earn the military achievements required for Rear Admiral through just four naval battle assessments.
What's more, every Reserve Navy recruit in the Elite Class was exceptionally gifted. Geniuses were always proud, and none of them wanted to graduate with only the minimum rank.
So, aside from Doberman and Kazan, everyone in the classroom had been held back from previous classes.
Each had their own goal: some wouldn't graduate until they made captain, others until they became Rear Admiral.
The Reserve Navy recruits were so shocked because Morito had taken a seat that wasn't meant for him.
Even though they were all in the Elite Class, there were still differences between them.
Before entering the Elite Class, they'd all been geniuses, exceptional talents among their peers.
But once they entered the Elite Class, they were just ordinary people.
There were only three true geniuses in the Elite Class!
"Monsters" was probably a better word for them!
There were three seats in the classroom that everyone avoided, even when those three weren't there. They left the seats open for them without needing to say a word.
The strong were respected wherever they went.
By sheer coincidence, Morito had taken the favorite seat of one of those monsters.
No one warned him. Everyone chose to watch from the sidelines, and quite a few had gleeful looks in their eyes.
It was the first day of the new term, so there was a good chance all three monsters would show up.
Suddenly, Morito glanced back from the window, where he'd been gazing out at the sea, and smiled.
Everyone froze, only to hear him say,
"Some people are just born handsome. You can't help being jealous."
Everyone: "???"
What the hell?! Was this guy really that full of himself?
They weren't looking at him because he was handsome!
The Elite Class had one more impression of Morito now: he looked like a decent guy, but wasn't.
Tap, tap, tap.
A lazy set of footsteps came from the hallway outside. Everyone's expressions shifted, and they immediately perked up.
Those distinctive footsteps were unmistakable. It had to be that guy!
Borsalino, in his twenties but with the face of a fifty-year-old, appeared in the doorway. He blinked and looked at Morito.
"Hm? Is my eyesight failing me? Why's there someone sitting by the window?"
That was right: Morito had chosen Borsalino's favorite seat by the window.
Not just Borsalino's. Everyone knew the favorite seats of the Elite Class's three monsters, including Sakazuki and Dragon.
Morito leaned on his arm as he watched the sea. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him.
He turned and found a wrinkled old face leaning close.
"Hey, young man. I don't think I've seen you around before!"
Kizaru?
He should be called Borsalino, since Kizaru was the codename he'd receive after becoming an Admiral. He wasn't an Admiral yet.
"I'm new here. Ōtsutsuki Morito."
Morito smiled and extended a hand as he introduced himself.
Under normal circumstances, Morito was easy to get along with, especially when dealing with strong people.
Borsalino merely glanced at Morito's outstretched hand, a trace of disdain flashing in his eyes.
Ōtsutsuki Morito?
Sorry, never heard of him!
"Hey, young man. Could I trouble you to switch seats?"
"I kind of like sitting here!"
Borsalino puckered his lips and spoke in a sarcastic, mocking tone.
Morito raised an eyebrow, then silently sighed.
Great, another guy jealous of his good looks.
Why were only women willing to be friends with him?
This was hard!
Morito withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened, then leaned against the windowsill, settling his whole rear end onto the chair.
"Funny, I kind of like sitting here, too!"
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