The metallic tang of recent bloodshed still clung to my clothes, a stark reminder of the brutal efficiency of our last hunt, orchestrated by Zephyr himself. I leaned against the railing of the returning vessel, the rhythmic creak of the timbers a counterpoint to the turmoil churning within me. Another notorious pirate gone, another bounty claimed, but at what cost? It should have been me. Those simulation points… they were within reach.
Zephyr always says practical experience is paramount, but he and Dory left nothing for me. The elation of victory was a hollow echo in the face of Zephyr's and Dory's cold, merciless efficiency, a stark contrast to Zephyr's usual demanding yet instructive demeanor in the Elite Camp. They had moved like twin shadows, a whirlwind of calculated violence, leaving no pirate with a bounty alive for me to even engage. The simulation points, so crucial for my advancement under Zephyr's rigorous evaluation system, remained stubbornly out of reach.
My fists clenched, the frustration a tight knot in my chest. Zephyr's explanation, delivered with his usual stern authority during the post-mission debrief, about providing the elite camp recruits with experience against strong pirates grated on my nerves. "Experience?" I muttered under my breath. "We're not raw recruits anymore! Zephyr has pushed us harder than anyone. We've earned more than just observation."
Dory and I weren't green anymore. We had proven our mettle time and again in Zephyr's demanding training exercises, faced down threats that would make seasoned Marines falter. This last hunt, led by Zephyr himself, was supposed to be my chance to shine, to finally get some decent points in a real-world scenario. Instead… nothing. It felt like a deliberate exclusion, a stark reminder of our junior status despite our capabilities, especially under Zephyr's watchful eye.
The somber farewell to Ain and Binz did little to lift my spirits. "Take care out there," Ain had said, her hand clasping my shoulder with a firm squeeze.
"Zephyr speaks highly of your potential, Lazarus. You two will be joining us soon enough." Binz had offered a curt nod and a rare smile. Dory, standing beside me, had merely offered a stiff, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement, his usual dead-serious expression unwavering, a trait Zephyr often cited as a mark of his unwavering focus. They were the seniors, the ones who had navigated the grueling three years of Zephyr's Elite Camp before us. I had looked up to their strength and discipline, forged under Zephyr's intense instruction. Seeing them finally depart for active duty in the Marines should have been a moment of shared aspiration, a glimpse into my own future.
Yet, the lingering bitterness of the hunt overshadowed everything. They earned their stripes under Zephyr's guidance, I thought wistfully, watching their figures recede in the distance. I just need a chance to earn mine, to prove myself.
Driven by a need to express my appreciation, and perhaps to momentarily forget my frustration with the outcome of Zephyr's training, I had poured a significant portion of my savings into a lavish farewell party for Ain and Binz. "It's the least we can do," I had told Dory, who had regarded the overflowing spread of food and drink with a characteristic lack of emotion. "They endured Zephyr's training for three years. That deserves a celebration." It was a night of boisterous camaraderie, overflowing with food, drink, and heartfelt well wishes.
For a few fleeting hours, the shadow of the recent hunt receded, replaced by the warmth of shared laughter and the promise of future endeavors. "Maybe," I had thought, raising my glass in a toast, "maybe Zephyr will see my worth soon." Dory, however, remained a stoic presence throughout the festivities, his gaze steady and his participation minimal, though I knew, deep down, that he appreciated the sentiment, a rare display of emotion for someone as reserved as him, even under Zephyr's constant scrutiny.
A year had spun by with relentless speed within the demanding confines of Zephyr's Elite Camp. The rigorous training continued, pushing Dory and me, along with the rest of our cohort, to our limits under Zephyr's watchful eye. Each drill, each simulated battle designed by Zephyr himself, each grueling physical exercise overseen by Zephyr's most trusted instructors was a step closer to this day – our graduation from the Elite Camp. I stood now, amongst my peers, a mix of anticipation and trepidation swirling within me. This is it, I thought, my heart pounding slightly. Three years under Zephyr… it all comes down to this. Dory stood beside me, ramrod straight, his face an impassive mask as always, a testament to the discipline instilled by Zephyr.
Binz and Ain, now seasoned members of Zephyr's division, hadn't forgotten us. They had organized a farewell party in return, a more intimate gathering than my extravagant affair, but no less heartfelt. "Welcome to the real world," Ain had chuckled, handing me a mug of strong coffee. "Zephyr's training is just the beginning." Binz had simply clapped me on the back, a rare display of camaraderie. Dory had offered a curt, "Hmph," his usual form of acknowledgement, even in a relaxed setting away from Zephyr's direct command.
The familiar faces, the shared memories of grueling training sessions orchestrated by Zephyr and whispered aspirations, created a comforting atmosphere. As we raised our glasses in toasts to the future, I felt a sense of camaraderie that transcended the earlier frustrations with the hunt led by Zephyr. "We made it through Zephyr's gauntlet," I thought, a genuine smile finally breaking through my usual reserved demeanor. "We actually made it." Dory, beside me, remained outwardly unmoved, but I had learned to read the subtle shifts in his posture, the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes – a sign of… something akin to approval, even if Zephyr wouldn't have explicitly praised it.
The following morning brought a bittersweet parting. The instructors, their faces etched with a mixture of pride and stern expectation – mirroring Zephyr's usual expressions – addressed the graduating recruits. "You have endured the trials set before you by Instructor Zephyr," the lead instructor boomed, his voice echoing across the parade ground. "You have persevered. Now, you will serve." They spoke of duty, honor, and the immense responsibility that came with wearing the Marine uniform, values constantly emphasized by Zephyr.
Then came the crucial announcement: all graduating recruits would be granted one month of leave before reporting to Marineford. It was there, at the Marine Headquarters, that our marine ranks, earned through our performance in the Elite Camp under Zephyr's tutelage, would be officially announced before our subsequent transfer to various marine bases. A month to reconnect with family, to rest weary bodies, and to mentally prepare for our assigned stations and the responsibilities that came with our new ranks.
For Dory, the news of leave held a different weight. Marineford was his home now, the only place he had known for years. Orphaned at a young age, the imposing fortress had become his sanctuary, his training ground, his entire world, all within the rigid structure of the Marines Zephyr represented.
Remembering my own time in the orphanage near the G-3 marine base, I felt a pang of sympathy. He doesn't have anyone to go back to, I realized, watching Dory stand slightly apart from the excited chatter of the others, his expression as unreadable as ever, a stark contrast to the emotional farewells happening around them, something Zephyr likely wouldn't tolerate during training. I knew the isolating feeling of having no family to return to. Unlike me, I thought, a warmth spreading through my chest. The kids at the orphanage… they're like my brothers and sisters.
"Dory," I said, my voice cutting through the excited chatter of the departing recruits, "why don't you come with me? To G-3."
Dory turned, his usual dead-serious gaze fixed on me. "G-3? What for?" His tone was flat, devoid of inflection, a directness likely honed by Zephyr's emphasis on clear communication.
"Your duty station will be assigned after we report to Marineford," I explained gently. "But this is leave. A chance to… well, to see something different before we get our postings. My old orphanage is near G-3. It's… not much, but it's a place filled with… family. Kids who are like brothers and sisters to me. And," I added, a small smile playing on my lips, "I'm sure they'd be happy to have another face around. And Matron will be ecstatic."
Dory's dark eyes narrowed slightly, considering the proposition. "Marineford is where our ranks will be announced, before transfer," he stated, his tone precise. "G-3 has no bearing on that." He rarely deviated from routine, from the strictures of the Marine life instilled in him by Zephyr's relentless training. But there was a certain… logic to my suggestion. Marineford held nothing for him beyond the eventual assignment. The concept of 'family' was abstract, something he had never truly experienced.
After a moment of quiet contemplation, a barely perceptible nod. "Alright, Lazarus. I will accompany you to G-3." His voice held no hint of enthusiasm, but I understood it was Dory's way of accepting, a pragmatic decision devoid of sentiment, much like how Zephyr approached most situations.
As we boarded the transport ship bound for the familiar waters of my childhood, I felt a sense of quiet satisfaction. The sting of the last hunt, orchestrated by Zephyr, still lingered, a faint ache beneath the surface, but the prospect of showing Dory a different world, of sharing a part of my past, offered a glimmer of hope for the future, a future where perhaps I could finally earn Zephyr's full respect and where I could introduce my makeshift family to my stoic comrade before we were both sent to our respective marine bases. The ranks awaited us in Marineford, the next chapter of our lives as Elite Marines.