Seeing Zephyr so frail before him, Darren's mind raced straight to Dragon—more precisely, to the powers of Ivankov and Bartholomew Kuma.
Ivankov's Hormone–Hormone Fruit could force a body beyond its limits, flooding cells with raw vitality and awakening dormant potential. For a brief time, it could turn even a dying man into a giant of strength.
Kuma's Paw–Paw Fruit, in contrast, could "repel" pain and exhaustion, sweeping away fatigue as though erasing it from existence—an ability Darren himself had once relied on.
During their desperate clash with the Gorosei's "Undying Body" on Felsek Island, he had drawn on both of those powers—Ivankov's hormones and Kuma's relief—to explode past every boundary, to "tear the Gorosei apart with his bare hands."
But now… that wasn't an option.
Zephyr's body was already a battlefield. His asthma made every breath a struggle; forcing his system any further would be like pouring fuel onto a dying flame. The Hormone Fruit might awaken his potential for a moment—but it would burn him out for good.
Kuma's gift could ease pain, perhaps let him sleep in comfort—but it couldn't touch the poison crawling through his veins. Treating the surface and not the cause… that wasn't saving him.
If that was all they could offer, a trip to Baltigo would only waste time he didn't have.
Darren's thoughts spiraled at lightning speed, sifting possibilities. Only one path made sense now: find a doctor—or someone with a miracle in their hands.
The finest doctors on the sea…
He frowned deeply, mind flicking through names.
A rasp at the door broke his focus.
"If things turn for the worse," came a hoarse voice, "we go back to Marineford."
Darren turned. Tokikake stood there, haggard, stubble shadowing his jaw, a crushed cigarette hanging from his lip.
"Headquarters has the best facilities anywhere. The Military District Hospital's doctors are top-tier—they know Zephyr-sensei's asthma, his history. They can treat him."
His bloodshot eyes met Darren's, a weary smile cracking his face.
"…Admiral Sengoku wouldn't really be that cruel, would he?"
No one spoke.
Not one of them contradicted him.
They all knew the risk—court-martial, execution, branded as traitors. Yet no one flinched. For Zephyr, they'd already given up their own futures.
Before Darren could respond, a frail murmur trembled through the air.
"N… no… can't go back…"
Every head snapped toward the bed.
"Zephyr-sensei?!"
"He's awake!"
"Sensei, please—how do you feel?"
"Let's take you back, they can—"
"If we beg Sengoku—"
"Quiet!"
The voices broke off as the old man's eyes slowly opened.
"No…" Zephyr whispered, his breath ragged. "I can't go back."
His gaze found Darren, not the others. His lips cracked in the faintest smile. "There are things more important than life, aren't there?"
Darren met that dim yet unwavering look and exhaled heavily.
"You really are a stubborn old man."
Zephyr's thin chest shook with a chuckle. "And you're not a stubborn brat?"
Darren's eyes softened. "Returning to Headquarters now would be suicide."
He raised one hand. Blue arcs flickered between his fingers.
In an instant, iron and ore stirred beneath the floor. Dozens of steel rods twisted up through the ground, folding together until a colossal metal chamber formed, enclosing Zephyr's bed completely. Only a small vent remained at the top, revealing the old man's glaring eyes.
"Brat… what the hell do you think you're doing!?"
Darren pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh. Save your breath, old man."
Clang.
Metal slid, forming a mask over Zephyr's mouth. The muffled grumbling that followed made Darren sigh.
He's definitely cursing me out right now.
The others could only watch, lips twitching as Zephyr's furious muffled protests echoed inside the steel cocoon.
Darren turned to face them.
"I know you all want to bring him back to Headquarters," he said evenly. "But our situation doesn't allow it. Even with the North Blue Fleet as a deterrent, we can't count on Sengoku's mercy."
A heavy silence followed.
Each of them remembered Marineford—rows of rifles, drawn blades, and Sengoku's cold gaze that had sliced through them like a knife.
Then Darren asked, quietly but firmly, "Do you trust me?"
They blinked in surprise.
Yamakaji barked a laugh, clamping a cigar between his teeth. "Do you even need to ask?"
Tokikake smiled wearily. "We've already bet our lives once. Might as well bet again."
"You're a shameless bastard," Gion muttered, arms crossed. "But… you're ours."
A faint smile tugged at Darren's lips.
"That's enough."
He turned, sparks snapping around him.
The iron box floated after him, humming with magnetic charge.
"I'll find a way to save Zephyr-sensei," he said. "No matter what."
The magnetic field roared to life, lightning lacing the air as he shot into the sky—taking their teacher with him in a streak of blinding light.
They stood watching, the jungle quiet again. After a long silence, someone finally exhaled.
Before his return, they had all felt hollow—rudderless, waiting for orders that would never come.
But once Darren appeared, the weight lifted.
His presence alone felt like certainty.
If it's Darren, they thought, he'll make it happen.
To be continued...