Ortoren might have had his own way of thinking, but he had no intention of sharing it with Garp. There was no need, and it wasn't as if he could change Garp's mind that easily.
Even Garp's own son couldn't talk the old stubborn man into letting go of his self-restraint and embracing a shameless life—so what chance did Ortoren have?
Some things were better shown than said. Dragon had chosen to break away and form the Revolutionary Army, making his point by action for Garp and the rest of the Marines to see.
Ortoren planned to do the same, but he wasn't going to leave the Marines. He'd do it from within. Once he was strong enough, he'd turn into an unhinged troublemaker. He wouldn't eat beef, wouldn't touch coriander, wouldn't even eat donuts—just to see what the World Government could do about it.
If his "leading by example" ever started to work, maybe it would wake up Garp and the rest of those poor souls shackled in their own minds.
And if they did wake up, well… a thousand-mile dam could be brought down by an ant's nest.
By the time Ortoren reached the sixth floor of the hospital, Garp's mood seemed to have recovered—at least his expression wasn't as heavy as before.
Just as they turned a corner, they overheard a young nurse down the hall say, "What's going on? When I went on leave the day before yesterday, there weren't nearly this many Commodore-level patients. How is it that in just one day the wards are full? Did something terrible happen at sea?"
"Shh, don't say things like that. Nothing like that happened," another nurse quickly replied. "These Commodores and Captains are all cadets from Admiral Zephyr's officer training camp. None of them have been on missions lately."
"What? I heard that training camp only started running not long ago. And these elites are already in this state? I guess you really have to suffer to climb to the top. If even the elite have to push themselves this hard, then what chance do we ordinary people have?" the first nurse sighed.
"That's not it," the second nurse said. "I heard there was some kind of bullying incident in the camp. It happened yesterday on the parade ground, and lots of people saw it. That's why so many cadets ended up injured."
"Bullying? That's awful. So it turned into an all-out brawl?" the first nurse asked in shock.
"My boyfriend said it looked like they all got beaten by some big guy with horns. Apparently, he took on all of them by himself… rumor is, he's the camp's school bully!" the nurse said.
Just then, the two rounded the corner—and came face-to-face with Garp, covering his mouth as he tried not to laugh, and Ortoren, who looked a little awkward.
"Ah! Mr. Muscle!" the first nurse yelped, her face instantly turning red. Mortified, she grabbed her friend and fled.
"Kid, you've already made a name for yourself here in Marineford, hahaha!" Garp burst out laughing, giving Ortoren a hearty slap on the back.
Ortoren's face twitched. "How is this school violence? It was just a task from Zephyr-sensei. As a Marine, I completed it perfectly. That's fair and reasonable, right? I should be getting praise for it! So who's out here ruining my reputation? I'm about to be labeled the school bully!"
After grumbling a few more words, Ortoren gave up and followed Garp to a hospital room.
The first ones he wanted to visit were, of course, his good brothers Momonga and Yamakaji. But the moment he pushed the door open—good grief—everyone was here.
Momonga, Yamakaji, Tokikake, Strawberry, Onigumo, Doberman, Cancer, and the rest were all there—and even Gion was sitting by the windowsill.
Every one of them was injured. Some had their heads wrapped in bandages, others had broken arms in splints, crutches propped at their sides, or IV drips hanging nearby. Not a single one was in perfect shape.
Still, since this was a ward for generals, the room was spacious enough that even with all of them gathered, it didn't feel crowded. Several tables had been pushed together, and the group was huddled around playing cards. Looking around, cigarette butts, wine bottles, cigars, and snacks were scattered everywhere.
They looked like patients, but the atmosphere screamed hospital party.
"Really? You're having a party and didn't invite me?" Ortoren said, looking annoyed. Garp, on the other hand, had already blended right in, leaning over to peek at Strawberry's hand of cards.
"You've beaten your brothers half to death, and you still have the nerve to say that?" Momonga grumbled from under the layers of bandages that left only his eyes visible.
"Compared to Momonga and Tokikake, I was lucky enough to hit the ground fast—saved this handsome face of mine," Doberman, the main instigator, said, patting his cheek in mock relief.
"What? Do you not own a mirror? Where's the handsome?" Tokikake retorted. Like Momonga, his head was almost entirely wrapped, with only his eyes and nostrils showing. Rumor had it his nose was braced and wouldn't fully heal for a long time.
After that jab, Doberman slapped the table. "You're the last guy in this class who gets to tell me I'm not handsome, Tokikake!"
Onigumo was sitting next to Yamakaji, both holding cigar leaves as they puffed on cigars, clearly deep in a smoker's chat.
The sight made Ortoren blink in confusion. "Since when did you guys get along?"
If he remembered right, not long ago Momonga and Yamakaji would snort coldly whenever they crossed paths with Onigumo, Doberman, or Dalmatian—ready to spit in each other's faces if given the chance.
So how did they turn into drinking buddies overnight?
Momonga sighed. "After yesterday, every cadet in our class realized something important, Ortoren…"
Ortoren set the flowers and fruit basket he'd brought on a small table, then dropped into an empty spot on the bed. "And what exactly is this 'important' thing?"
"Class! There's a class divide between us, Ortoren!" Momonga declared, springing to his feet, one boot planted on the bed, one hand raised high. Combined with the full head wrap, it was pure chuunibyou theatrics.
"All of us together still can't beat you. That means we're in the same class… and you—my former friend—are in another. You're the enemy now. Last night, we decided to form the Anti-Ortoren Alliance!"
Ortoren stared for a moment, glancing from Momonga to the others. As his eyes swept over them, they all straightened up with self-righteous pride, like they were staring down a tyrant—as if he really was the school bully.
Only Gion sat at the window, cigarette between her lips, looking disgusted. "Why are you looking at me? You don't think I'm as crazy as they are, do you?"
"If you're not crazy, then why are you here with them?" Ortoren shot back.
"Everyone's here, and we're all classmates. If I didn't come, I'd look antisocial. Besides, being alone is boring, and watching them act like lunatics is kind of entertaining," Gion replied matter-of-factly.
Ortoren and Gion actually got along fairly well these days—probably because, as a high-quality mixed-blood male with both brains and brawn, he still had a certain presence. He wasn't drop-dead handsome, but he was striking enough to score points in her eyes. Being seatmates and seeing each other often at school had only strengthened their rapport.
Ignoring Momonga and the rest, Ortoren started chatting casually with Gion. That prompted Momonga to slap his thigh. "Damn it, Ortoren! Now we've got another reason to oppose you!"
Tokikake, still hidden under his bandages, spoke in a low, sinister tone. "Count me in. If you're planning anything underhanded against Ortoren, don't forget to call me. I have no sense of decency, and my enthusiasm is high."
Ortoren gave the group a flat look. "You're plotting this stuff right in front of me? Ever think about waiting until I leave?"
"As Marines, uprightness is justice!" Momonga proclaimed, still in full dramatic mode.
Truth be told, though, it was this mix of rowdy banter and absurdity that seemed to break down the walls between them. Even with all the talk of an "Anti-Ortoren Alliance," Ortoren could feel that everyone—even Doberman—was noticeably warmer toward him now.
Maybe this was just the Marines' way. If you want to get along with someone, forget all the fancy approaches—just hit them first.
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
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