Chapter 36: Parting Ways

On the broad deck of the naval warship, Garen wore a crisp, impeccably tailored white suit whose sharp, flowing lines were given a bold, angular presence by his robust, muscular frame. The suit, dignified yet powerful, perfectly complemented his strikingly handsome and masculine features, exuding an allure unique to men of his stature.

At first glance, this suit seemed no different from those worn by sophisticated professionals, its understated cut betraying nothing unusual. Yet, it was in fact the formal dress uniform issued exclusively to headquarters officers of the Navy. When paired with the Navy's mantle of justice, the ensemble elevated one's appearance to a new echelon of elegance.

The suit's original owner was Colonel Smoker. Known for his rough-and-ready style—often tossing on a biker jacket and heading out half bare-chested—he had little patience for such troublesome formal attire. So, when a subordinate inquired about it, Smoker simply handed the suit over to Garen. The two men were similarly built, with Smoker standing just a touch taller.

Once Garen donned the suit—already impressive in its own right—he took on an entirely new aura, distinct from the formidable presence he exuded in his armor and greatsword. Now, he radiated both the vigor of a warrior and the poise of a gentleman.

On this vast sea, with its endless parade of peculiar and fantastical people, it was rare for the young Nami to encounter a man of her own age who combined such good looks and admirable character. Standing beside Garen, she found herself unconsciously transfixed—not so much out of longing, but from a pure sense of appreciation.

“Nami?”

Garen suddenly turned and called her name.

“Yes?” Nami snapped out of her reverie at once, but her composure never faltered.

“How old are you again?” Garen asked, seemingly out of nowhere, broaching a somewhat personal topic.

“Sixteen,” Nami replied instinctively. Realizing what she’d said, her usually calm face flushed with a soft blush. She pouted, slightly embarrassed, and retorted, “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Garen answered offhandedly, then, with characteristic frankness, added, “You’re really well-developed for sixteen...”

“You!” Miss Nami could not be bothered with his teasing, turning away in a huff.

Silently, Garen began working through the timeline in his mind. If memory served, in the original story, Nami joined Luffy’s crew at eighteen. Since she was only sixteen now, this meant he’d arrived about two years, or perhaps just under two years, before the main plot began. No wonder Smoker had only just been assigned to garrison Loguetown...

Having sorted out the timeline, Garen resumed his idle watch on the deck, observing the naval logistics crew bustling about. They were assembling some sort of apparatus to help Garen and the others transfer to a smaller vessel.

After a long wait, the sailors finally completed construction of a large crane-like device on deck. What happened next astonished Garen: the aft deck of the mammoth warship split open down the middle and, under the workings of some hidden mechanism, slowly parted, revealing a vast chamber below—the size of a full-fledged armory. Within this cavernous hold sat a small sailing ship, dwarfed in comparison to the massive naval vessel.

The newly built crane lowered a hundred thick ropes, which, under the sailors’ deft hands, were securely fastened to the smaller ship’s hull.

“Board the ship!” Smoker called out, a smoking cigar clenched between his teeth, addressing both his subordinates and Garen’s party.

Headquarters’ sailors were all elite, the Navy’s future leaders, and thus not many were dispatched to the typically uneventful East Blue. Smoker’s contingent from headquarters numbered just thirty men in total. The remainder of his command would be filled out upon arrival at the Loguetown base, taking over from the outgoing officer and the local East Blue garrison.

This explained why Smoker planned to complete his handover at Loguetown before heading to Cocoyasi Village to deal with the bandits.

Once Garen’s group and the thirty-odd sailors had boarded the compact vessel, it was packed to the brim. Before Garen could comment, the pulley system began to turn, and the massive crane, guided by a hundred taut ropes, hoisted the small ship from the hold and gently set it upon the sea, as if dropping a dumpling into soup.

In no time, a new small naval ship had “sprouted” from Garp’s giant warship.

Standing on the petite vessel, Garen looked up at the neighboring warship, towering like a mountain upon the sea. The disparity was like that between a grandson and his grandfather.

“Smoker...” Garen couldn’t help but quip, “Is there really such a gulf in treatment between naval officers? This flagship of yours seems smaller than Vice Admiral Garp’s anchor.”

Two veins bulged instantly on Smoker’s forehead. He said nothing, but the tip of his cigar glowed fiercely.

“Mr. Garen...” Tashigi, oblivious to her superior’s darkening mood, stepped forward eagerly. What struck Garen as odd was her unusually respectful demeanor toward him—a complete stranger—and her use of the term “senior.”

Tashigi earnestly explained, “Actually, we’re not aboard a standard Navy warship at all, but rather a converted civilian-issue armed vessel. A Navy headquarters colonel should be assigned a third-rate battleship with double gun decks and sixty cannons. But since Colonel Smoker was posted to the peaceful East Blue, and…”

Smoker’s expression grew grimmer, the White Hunter beginning to resemble a Smoggy Hunter.

“And what?” Garen pressed, unconcerned with Smoker’s mood; after all, he considered himself Garp’s equal in strength.

After a brief pause, Tashigi, determined to explain her idol’s glory, said, “Colonel Smoker got into a few fights with the heads of the logistics department back at headquarters.”

She became increasingly engrossed, adding more details, “Actually, our unit was originally larger than thirty strong, but—”

Before she could finish, Smoker’s darkened face loomed in front of her, cutting her off.

Garen didn’t need Tashigi to finish to guess what Smoker had done. He now understood why Smoker had been assigned to the backwater of East Blue as a glorified security chief: talented but hot-tempered officers like him were indeed in need of a stint in the field.

“Colonel Smoker, you must be the future commander of Loguetown’s naval base, yes?” Wallace, who had been listening, suddenly asked an unrelated question.

“That’s right!” Smoker himself replied, standing nearby with his cigar.

“In that case,” Wallace remarked meaningfully, “if Lord Garen wishes to claim a bounty, couldn’t he just do so directly with Colonel Smoker here?”

“Of course!” Garen’s eyes lit up. The NPC he needed to collect his bounty from was right beside him!

Nami’s eyes sparkled as well—she’d been eager to turn the head in that chest into real cash.

“Wait...” Smoker said gravely. “There’s no cash on my ship.”

“A navy colonel with no money?” Garen made no effort to hide his disdain.

“Actually, the Navy should keep a reserve fund on board, but—” Tashigi interjected, ever ready to detail Smoker’s illustrious deeds.

Smoker was so angry that actual white smoke began to pour from his head.

Tashigi sheepishly avoided her superior’s stormy gaze and explained in a whisper, “You’ll have to wait until we reach Loguetown and complete the handover with the outgoing commander before we can process any bounties.”

“Fine,” Garen replied without complaint. After all, they were less than a day’s sail from Loguetown, so there was no need to rush.

“The garrison commander at Loguetown, huh?” Wallace muttered to himself, his expression odd.

“What is it?” Tashigi asked, noticing his strange tone.

“Nothing,” Wallace shook his head with a cryptic smile. “I’m sure nothing will happen.”

......................................................

With the sails unfurled, the small ship carrying Loguetown’s garrison set off, its crew saluting Vice Admiral Garp atop the great warship. As they parted, Garen waved in farewell to Garp, who had treated him with such friendliness. Soon, the two vessels drifted apart, each heading in its own direction across the boundless sea.

“That clown Buggy... he’s really become Garp’s flunky...” Garen recalled seeing Buggy at their recent farewell, feeling a strange, almost surreal amusement. Buggy, with his short blue ponytail, dressed now in the Navy’s white shirt and justice mantle, actually looked somewhat dignified.

“Haha, let him be!” Nami laughed, her mood light. “It’s just as well that red-nosed fool never asked us for his treasure in the end.”

“Hm?” Garen started, suddenly recalling how he’d extorted quite a sum from a newly promoted naval officer.

“How much did we make this time?” he immediately asked Nami, eager to discuss their spoils.

“A fortune!” Nami’s face radiated happiness, her eyes dancing with the gleam of Berries. “That big red nose is nothing like that penniless Iron Blade. Just in that large chest alone, there’s eight million Berries’ worth of treasure. And the jewels in the small box… I appraised them carefully—they should fetch thirty million Berries if we sell them all!”

Her excitement mounted as she began tallying up their haul on her fingers. “Add to that the twenty-five million bounty we’ll get in Loguetown... In just two days, we’ve made sixty-three million Berries!”

Such a windfall was beyond anything Nami could have imagined. Following this big lug Garen, she’d made in two days what would have taken her four or five years to accumulate on her own.

“Wait a minute...” Garen suddenly noticed something amiss. “Where did the twenty-five million bounty come from?”

“Why not?” Nami had calculated this figure long ago, savoring it in countless daydreams. “Ten million for Iron Blade, and the clown...”

Her jubilant expression froze. Only moments ago, she’d been thrilled that the red-nosed fool hadn’t demanded his treasure back, but now her face fell in anguish.

“Fifteen million... gone...”