Chapter 23 – Momousagi
White clouds drifted lazily across the high blue sky—calm and serene, like soft curtains draped over the heavens.
But that peaceful silence didn't last long.
A golden flash tore through the clouds like a bullet, slicing the air apart and vanishing far across the horizon.
If one looked closer, they would see the outline of a human figure—someone running, not on land… but through the air itself.
— — —
Tachibana Kyūjō soared across the sky, light and precise with every step. His body moved on instinct, but his mind remained sharp—constantly analyzing.
"My Air Step… the hybrid technique I created by fusing Rankyaku and Geppo..."
"It really makes aerial maneuvering faster, but the stamina cost is brutal."
"Even with Breath Control assisting me, I can only keep this up for six hours max."
Still—
Nothing could match the feeling of dashing through open skies like this. The wind brushing past his skin, the speed, the height... It was exhilarating beyond words.
Noticing his body starting to feel the strain, Kyūjō shifted direction and began his descent—heading back toward Marineford, the headquarters of the Marines.
— — —
Half a year passed.
And soon, whispers began to spread throughout Marine Headquarters.
There was someone in this year's training program—a freak of nature—who was already being compared to the monsters of the past.
The Admirals.
And the craziest part?
This person wasn't even a Devil Fruit user.
A swordsman. A pure swordsman who relied only on his body and Haki.
In no time at all, the name Tachibana Kyūjō began circulating as a future candidate for Admiral.
But with praise came rumors.
Ugly ones.
People started saying he was actually the biological son of Fleet Admiral Sengoku, and that his achievements were all part of a fabricated political path.
Jealousy. Suspicion. Petty dislike.
Many senior officers and even mid-level commanders began treating him coldly—not because he had done anything wrong, but simply because he stood out too much.
— — —
Calm Belt — The Gate of Justice
A massive Marine battleship slowly passed through the colossal gates, making its way toward the port of Marineford.
On the deck stood a high-ranking female officer in a crisp white coat, the word "Justice" boldly displayed on her back. At her side hung a slender, elegantly curved nodachi.
As the camera zoomed in, her features came into focus—long, flowing black hair, sharp eyes, and a cool, unapproachable beauty.
But her allure wasn't just her face.
Her entire figure radiated presence—from her tall, statuesque body to the deep pink V-neck uniform that hugged her curves, and the long legs adorned with a striking black spider tattoo on one thigh.
There was no mistaking it.
This woman was Momousagi, also known as Gion—one of the top Admiral candidates in the entire Marine organization.
— — —
Marineford – East Dock
Near the dock, a middle-aged man stood nervously, clutching a bouquet of white flowers in both hands. His face… let's just say the gods weren't exactly generous in the looks department.
His eyes sparkled with hope.
"Look, Vice Admiral Gion. Over there—it's Vice Admiral Garp—wait, no… I mean Chaton," said Flannda, Gion's subordinate, pointing toward the docks with a barely concealed smirk.
Gion rolled her eyes, giving Flannda a sharp glare, then let out a tired sigh.
"…Take care of him for me."
"Nope," Flannda replied, chuckling. "I wouldn't dare interfere with Vice Admiral Chaton's forty-eighth love confession."
— — —
As the ship docked, Chaton leapt aboard with the enthusiasm of a man in love.
He dropped to one knee, holding the bouquet high with both hands.
"Gion… You are the white lily in my hand—pure, yet blinding in your brilliance…"
"From the moment I first laid eyes on you, my heart has never stopped trembling. Marry me, Gion…"
But before he could even finish—
Gion's patience snapped.
She lifted her leg and launched a perfectly arched spinning kick—sending Chaton flying straight into the sea with a loud splash.
All that remained on the deck were the scattered white flowers, falling softly to the ground like the last breath of a dying dream.
"Bootlickers never get happy endings."
(Author's Note: I too once became a bootlicker for two days… and nearly lost my mind.)
— — —
"All right, disembark."
Gion descended from the ship without so much as a glance backward.
Ever since Pirate King Gol D. Roger's final words before his execution, the seas had grown more chaotic than ever.
Pirates emerged from every corner of the world like weeds.
As one of the Vice Admirals responsible for the border between the Grand Line and South Blue, Gion hadn't returned to Marineford in over a year.
She'd only come back now because of a direct order from HQ.
What she didn't know was that this entire "rotation schedule" had been quietly orchestrated behind the scenes by Chaton—who couldn't bear to watch the woman he loved constantly risking her life while he stayed safely at HQ.
Now, as Gion's long, perfect legs strode confidently away from the dock, Chaton—still floating in the sea—watched her with a content smile.
"At least... you'll get some rest this time."
(Note: Please don't become a bootlicker, dear readers. It never ends well.)
— — —
Marineford – East Wing Mess Hall
Tachibana Kyūjō sat quietly at his usual table, enjoying his lunch.
He'd already tried every mess hall on the four corners of HQ, but this one remained his favorite.
Simple reason: unlimited grilled Sea King meat…
And fresh orange juice imported straight from East Blue—just like the taste of home.
But then… silence fell over the room.
The chattering voices vanished, and Kyūjō's brows twitched.
He hated being disturbed while eating.
Without turning around, he muttered lazily, "Onigumo… I'm not in the mood to fight right now. If you want a duel, wait for me at the training grounds."
Behind him, Onigumo sneered.
"Oh yeah?"
In the next instant, two long blades shot straight toward Kyūjō's table.
But they never landed.
A thunder-patterned katana—Rairyūken—was already drawn, its blade clashing cleanly against both swords with flawless precision.
As if he'd known exactly when and where they'd strike.
Kyūjō let out a deep breath.
His anger simmered just beneath the surface.
Their conflict had started from something trivial.
One day, while Kyūjō was training alone on the beach, Onigumo had appeared without warning—and attacked him outright.
If it had been a proper sparring session between swordsmen, he wouldn't have minded. But to ambush someone with no introduction?
Back then, Kyūjō held himself back—for the sake of Akainu, who happened to be nearby.
But now…
Did Onigumo still not get it?
Did he really not understand the massive gap between their strength?
— — —
(Reminder: Bootlickers never get happy endings. Seriously.)
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