The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 127 - 29: The Training Camp Begins!

with Tsuru following at a more measured, detached pace.

Without delay, they headed straight for the VIP ward.

But before they could reach it,

laughter — wild and unrestrained — floated out from one of the rooms.

"Come on, eat more roast meat! Bwahahahaha!"

"Old man, you're pathetic! You can't even hold your liquor!"

"Shut up!! Fill my cup again!!"

"Tokikake, stop stuffing your face!"

"Sakazuki, wipe that scowl off your face — no one's asking you to collect debts here!"

"..."

Sengoku froze at the door,

the muscles in his fists tightening until his knuckles cracked audibly.

His face turned a shade darker than the bottom of a burned pot.

Beside him, Zephyr and Tsuru were both twitching at the corners of their mouths, black lines appearing over their heads.

A... a party!?

Sengoku's temple throbbed.

He had summoned them to the Fleet Admiral's office for an urgent meeting —

and here they were, throwing a goddamn party in a hospital room!?

Zephyr snuck a glance at Sengoku's expression and almost felt sorry for what was about to happen.

Just then, inside the room, a drunken voice slurred out:

"Wait... feels like we forgot something important... weren't we supposed to do something?"

Then came Garp's hearty shout:

"Hmm? Yeah, something like that... let me think..."

One beat passed.

"Ah, forget it!

If we can't remember, it probably wasn't important! Bwahahahaha!!"

BANG!!

Sengoku could no longer contain himself.

With a roar that shook the hospital walls, he kicked the door open with a deafening crash.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING?!"

The noise cut off instantly.

Inside the room:

Chaos.

Empty liquor bottles littered the floor.

Garp and Dragon were slumped together in a drunken heap, faces flushed red, arms wrapped around each other like old drinking buddies.

Garp still had a piece of roast meat hanging from his mouth; Dragon was cradling a bottle of whiskey like a baby.

Sakazuki sat cross-legged on the floor, grilling meat over a small brazier with perfect calm, a knife in hand.

Borsalino lounged in a chair, legs crossed, smiling lazily behind his ever-present sunglasses.

Gion stood stiffly against a wall, her face a mask of deadpan indifference.

Tokikake clutched a microphone, halfway through a passionate, tone-deaf karaoke performance,

an enormous portable speaker blaring beside him.

The air seemed frozen solid.

Sengoku: "..."

Zephyr: "..."

Tsuru: "..."

Everyone in the room: "..."

Then:

"—YOU BASTARDS!!"

Sengoku's roar shook the entire hospital like an earthquake.

---

Several days later...

"You're simply unbelievable, Commodore Darren.

Your body's resilience... it's beyond human."

The blonde, voluptuous doctor, Maria, stared at Darren's medical chart with unconcealed amazement.

In just a few days, this young Marine officer's catastrophic wounds had mostly healed —

a recovery speed that defied all logic.

Without witnessing it firsthand, she would have called it impossible.

"Thank you for your kind words, Doctor Maria,"

Darren replied with a casual smile,

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buttoning up his crisp new uniform over the fierce scars that covered his iron-hard body.

He turned to her, flashing a grin so disarmingly roguish that Maria's cheeks tinted pink.

"Thank you for everything these past few days."

"N-Not at all, Commodore Darren...!"

Maria stammered, flustered.

"If you prefer, you can just call me Maria..."

Darren laughed softly.

"But I rather like calling you Doctor Maria."

He winked.

Maria's blush deepened,

memories of their... "interesting" encounters flashing through her mind,

leaving her almost dizzy.

A dry cough abruptly shattered the atmosphere.

Turning, Maria saw Tokikake standing awkwardly at the newly repaired door,

a look of barely concealed irritation on his face.

"Commander Tokikake,"

Maria said coolly, all traces of her earlier shyness vanishing.

Tokikake's mouth twitched.

"See you around, Doctor Maria,"

Darren said cheerfully, waving as the embarrassed doctor hurried away.

Tokikake walked into the room, scowling, and flopped into a chair.

"Congratulations on the promotion, Commander Tokikake,"

Darren said with a teasing smile.

Tokikake grunted,

not bothering to hide the fresh bruises and swelling that covered his face and arms.

Thanks to their... "banquet,"

everyone involved had been forced to write long, groveling apologies and face disciplinary action.

Of course, only the unlucky ones, like Tokikake, actually got punished.

Tsuru's adopted sister Gion (Tsuru herself being far too influential) had been spared.

Garp, Dragon, Sakazuki, and Borsalino?

Forget about it.

They ignored the punishment orders as easily as they ignored a summer breeze.

Tokikake, meanwhile, had been mercilessly thrashed.

"You seem to be doing just fine too,"

Darren said, chuckling at the sight of him.

"Shut up,"

Tokikake muttered, tearing open a fruit basket and angrily gnawing on an apple.

"You ready yet?"

Darren finished adjusting his tie,

draped the heavy Justice coat over his shoulders,

and smiled faintly.

"I've been ready for a long time."

A crisp sea breeze fluttered through the window,

making his cloak billow behind him like the wings of a hawk.

An invisible pressure — composed of calm authority and silent strength — radiated from his frame.

Tokikake squinted slightly.

Was it just his imagination,

or had Darren grown even stronger after clashing with the Roger Pirates?

"Wasn't he supposed to be critically wounded?"

Tokikake muttered.

Darren ignored him, adjusting the strap of his coat.

"Are the others already there?"

Tokikake nodded, tossing the apple core aside.

"They're just waiting for you."

Darren's lips curled into a confident smirk.

Lighting a cigar, he took a deep pull, his eyes flashing with fierce spirit.

"Then let's not keep them waiting."

"The 3rd Elite Officer Training Camp... is about to begin."

---

To be continued...