What does your justice look like?

As Gern arrived at Marine Headquarters, Garp was the first to break the silence.

He strode forward, his hearty laughter echoing across the harbor. "Hahaha! Kid, well done!

You're the first rookie who's ever made Whitebeard use Conqueror's Coating!"

Gern froze for a moment, then recognized Garp in the burly man's still-youthful face! (It was the scar by his eye that gave him away.)

After recognizing Garp, Gern instinctively looked at Zephyr behind him. Zephyr's expression remained stern, betraying neither pleasure nor anger.

"You're too kind, Vice Admiral Garp." Gern lowered his head slightly, his voice calm. "I only did what I should have."

"Hahaha! You're too modest!" Garp slapped Gern's shoulder so hard that the wounded man nearly lost his footing.

"Come on, let's get you a proper checkup at the medical department first. Then we can talk about that fight in detail!"

Just then, Zephyr finally spoke. "Garp, stop fooling around."

"Zephyr..."

"He needs to report to me first." His gaze shifted to Gern, his voice low and firm.

"Warrant Officer Gern, in one hour.

My office. I'll be waiting there."

Gern straightened his back and gave a crisp military salute. "Yes, Vice Admiral Zephyr."

Garp pursed his lips. "Hey, hey, Zephyr, don't be so rigid. The kid only just got through a brutal fight..."

"That's precisely why discipline matters even more." Zephyr cut Garp off, then nodded to Gern. "Go. Don't be late."

Watching Gern leave with a medic at his side, Garp shook his head.

"You're always so strict."

Zephyr rubbed his brow. "Garp, you know what his Logia Tremor-Tremor Fruit means."

For a brief moment, Garp's expression turned unusually serious. "It's just a Logia..."

"That's exactly what makes it terrifying!"

The two fell silent for a moment. The sea breeze lifted Zephyr's cape, making it snap in the wind.

"So?" Garp suddenly returned to his carefree self, repeatedly bumping his shoulder against Zephyr's.

"Are you going to let me have Gern?"

"Don't even think about it! Go keep an eye on your own son." Zephyr snorted and turned toward the headquarters building.

"And I heard you recently took that fellow Kuzan under your wing. Looks like you're already planning to mentor him."

Watching Zephyr walk away, Garp suddenly burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! I knew it! You actually like that kid quite a bit, don't you?"

Zephyr didn't turn around. He merely waved a hand. "See you in the Fleet Admiral's Office, Garp."

"Yeah, yeah!" Garp clasped his hands behind his head and leisurely followed.

"But before that, I need to swing by Sengoku's office and swipe a little something! He must be hiding some good stuff again!"

The Marines at the harbor watched the two vice admirals leave, then glanced in the direction Gern had disappeared. Whispers rose again.

"Hey, did you see that? Vice Admiral Zephyr actually came to meet that rookie himself..."

"I heard he fought Whitebeard one-on-one and made it back alive!"

"Looks like things are about to get lively at headquarters again..."

The automatic doors of the Marine Headquarters infirmary closed behind him.

Standing in the corridor, Gern instinctively touched his chest, where three ribs should have been broken.

"This is unbelievable..."

Although Whitebeard had held back on that final blow with Conqueror's Coating, it had still shattered several of his ribs.

With the medical facilities at the West Blue branch, an injury like that would have required at least four months in bed.

Yet now, the skin beneath his bandages had healed completely. Only a few pale pink scars remained to remind him of that heart-stopping clash.

"Does the headquarters medical team use magic or something? No wonder hardly any Marines seemed to die when I watched the anime..."

Gern muttered to himself, gently pressing his fingers against his abdomen.

There was no pain, only a slight itch as new flesh grew.

He remembered his days as a recruit in the West Blue: the primitive field hospitals, the wounded soldiers' agonized groans, and the medicine that was always in short supply.

Here, however, even serious injuries seemed to be little more than a temporary inconvenience.

Outside the corridor windows, the shouts of recruits drilling rose from Marineford's plaza.

They were perfectly synchronized and full of vigor.

Gern stopped and looked through the glass at the Marines below in their matching uniforms.

Sunlight shone on their young faces, each one wearing a determined expression.

"Even the recruits here are the Marines' finest." Gern looked away and continued toward the headquarters building.

Zephyr had given him an hour, but he decided to arrive early.

After all, punctuality was the most basic discipline at Marine Headquarters.

Before long, after passing through three standard security checks, Gern reached the vice admirals' office wing.

The corridor was quiet enough for him to hear his own footsteps. The doors on either side bore the names of the various headquarters vice admirals.

Gern stopped in front of the black door at the far end.

The plaque read simply: Zephyr - Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral Zephyr.

Gern raised his hand to knock, only to discover that the door was ajar.

Through the gap, he could see that no one was inside.

Zephyr clearly hadn't returned yet.

"Reporting in. Warrant Officer Gern, here as ordered."

After quietly announcing himself, Gern pushed the door open and entered.

The office was almost austerely plain: a solid wood desk, two visitor chairs, and a filing cabinet crammed with documents.

There were no ornaments. At the front of the desk sat a photograph of Zephyr with his wife before they were married, while a piece of calligraphy hung on the wall.

The bold strokes of "Justice without killing" were powerful, the ink almost seeming to pierce through the paper.

"No killing..." Gern stood before the calligraphy, staring at it for a long time.

Back when he had been a recruit in the West Blue, before paying his way into logistics, Gern had learned all too well that refusing to kill was seen as weakness.

Pirates only submitted to greater violence. Mercy often invited even greater disaster.

He had seen far too many Marines lose their lives because they had been softhearted.

"But that's precisely the justice of 'Black Arm' Zephyr..."

He murmured to himself, his fingers unconsciously brushing the hilt of his sword.

Over his year in the West Blue, Gern had built his reputation on corpses. Every fallen pirate was a warning to those who came after.

Yet now, the words before him seemed to condemn everything he had done in the past...

"That is my justice." Just then, a low voice suddenly came from behind him.

Gern spun around to find Zephyr standing in the doorway. He had no idea when Zephyr had arrived, and his calm eyes revealed no emotion.

"Vice Admiral Zephyr!" Gern immediately stood at attention and saluted.

Zephyr strode into the office, his cape swaying gently behind him.

"Gern, you once said, 'Justice that comes too late doesn't deserve to be called justice at all.'"

Zephyr walked to his desk, but instead of sitting, he looked straight into Gern's eyes. "Then, for you to say something like that..."

"What does your justice look like?"