Early in the morning, while the sea was still blanketed in mist, a warship eased into the harbor.
Yamakaji soon disembarked. Looking at the fog-shrouded island, he sighed, "The Admiral-sama really is upright and austere. He can live in a place this barren and desolate."
Muttering to himself, Yamakaji didn't linger and headed toward the small two-story building on the island.
He had barely taken a few steps when he noticed a figure running in the mist. A sea breeze swept past, thinning the fog and revealing Momonga training in the distance.
"Momonga!" Yamakaji called out happily when he recognized his old friend.
Drenched in sweat, Momonga turned at the familiar voice, briefly startled before breaking into a smile and jogging over.
"Long time no see, Momonga. Didn't expect you to still be this diligent. The sun's not even up yet and you're already training?"
Yamakaji didn't mind the sweat and pulled him into a warm hug.
Momonga took the towel from around his neck, wiped his face, then sighed. "G-5 isn't like other bases. This cursed place is crawling with monsters. For an ordinary Marines guy like me, I have to train twice as hard just to avoid… falling too far behind."
In truth, among the Navy's vice admirals, Momonga was already exceptional.
But G-5 was overflowing with monsters. Ortoren needed no explanation, Issho was absurdly strong, and even Gion and Tokikake had the capabilities of prospective admirals. This left Momonga firmly at the bottom of the group.
He could only push around the ones who hadn't grown yet—people like Smoker.
The pressure to keep improving was enormous. Whenever he wasn't on duty, he poured every spare moment into training. Even so, Momonga knew he still couldn't catch up to those monsters; at best, he could only try… not to fall too far behind.
And of course, strength doesn't grow overnight. The others never relaxed either, because their leader, Ortoren, kept ramping up the intensity.
Ortoren didn't train every morning like Momonga. His schedule wasn't fixed, but he always found time during the day to practice. Every now and then, someone would witness one of his training sessions.
This created an odd pattern: today Issho might spot him at noon, tomorrow Tokikake might see him in the afternoon, and the day after, Momonga might catch him in the morning. Individually, none of it seemed strange, but when they all compared notes, it made Ortoren look like a training fanatic who practiced whenever he had even a sliver of free time.
That pressure alone pushed the entire group into relentless self-competition.
"If the pressure is that intense, why not become an ability user? Before I came here, I heard from Gion at headquarters that the Admiral-sama really favors you. He's prepared several powerful Devil Fruits for you to choose from—just say the word." Yamakaji raised a brow with a smile.
Momonga tossed the towel back over his shoulder and stretched. "Yeah… Lately I've been wavering about that. I used to refuse Devil Fruits out of sheer pride—thinking I could grow stronger without relying on outside power. But now…"
His eyes dimmed with a hint of resignation.
Yamakaji asked casually, "And now?"
"Now, I finally accept it. There really is a massive gap between people—one that exists from birth. And that gap… no matter how hard I try, I just can't bridge it." Momonga let out a long sigh.
Many wonder if effort can truly lose to talent.
But in reality, most people never push themselves hard enough for that comparison to even matter. The real gap only becomes visible once you've worked hard enough to reach that threshold.
Momonga had reached that point. And because he had, he could now see that gap clearly.
Fortunately, this world still has Devil Fruits, which can at least help fill part of that gap called "talent."
"I see..." Yamakaji looked at the pressure written all over Momonga's face, patted his shoulder, and said, "Back when you came to G-5 with the Admiral-sama, I was actually a little jealous. But now it seems you're not having an easy time here either... After leaving the Admiral-sama's side, the pressure dropped a lot. Look at me—working in Paradise felt effortless."
As he spoke, a wave of emotion washed over him. Maybe by now, he wasn't even a match for Momonga anymore.
"I heard the Admiral-sama plans to send you out to command a base?" Yamakaji asked.
"Yeah, G-12. It's basically decided. He talked with Sakazuki-san a couple of days ago. Once Sakazuki-san finishes dealing with things over there and relocates the personnel, I'll head over to take the position." Momonga nodded.
With that confirmation, Yamakaji continued, "Then you'll be out of this whirlpool of pressure. You should be able to relax a little..."
"No." Momonga shook his head, his expression firm. "At that point I'll be carrying the weight of an entire base by myself. The New World isn't a playground. Leaving Ortoren's side will only make things even more dangerous. And besides..."
"Besides what?" Yamakaji asked, unable to ignore the determination in his eyes.
"Besides..." Momonga's voice dropped. "Besides, that man is someone I truly believe can change the world. That's why I want to follow him, to change this rotten world together. I absolutely cannot fall behind!!!"
"Change the world!?" Yamakaji stared, stunned. He could hear the conviction in those words—Momonga wasn't exaggerating; he truly believed it.
In that moment, Yamakaji realized that after years apart, his old friend had become someone he could no longer read.
Momonga let out a small, relaxed laugh and looked at him. "Yamakaji, you've never worked under Ortoren. There are things you just can't imagine. All I can say is... the G-5 Marines—no, from now on we should say it like this... the New World's Marines. They're the New World's Marines, and they're nothing like the rest."
"I really don't get what you mean..." Yamakaji scratched his head.
"You'll understand soon enough—why I say Ortoren will be the man who changes the world. Take in the changes happening in the New World. At first, you'll doubt, just like I did—doubt justice, doubt him. Later, you might even grow numb. But soon, you'll see it for yourself: a grave illness needs heavy medicine. Without madness, there is no survival. This world has rotted far too deeply, and only someone truly 'mad' can turn the tide!" Momonga's eyes flashed with intensity.
The look shocked Yamakaji. What was going on with him?
But that fervor vanished almost instantly, and Momonga returned to normal, smiling. "Anyway, saying all this doesn't mean much. You'll have to witness it yourself..."
See G-5's formidable forces with your own eyes. See the shipbuilding island endlessly launching warships. See the latest weapons in every Marine's hands. See for yourself how this sea, known as the most dangerous in the world—the New World—thrives under G-5's control.
Words may not change a person's mind, but reality will.
"No, it does mean something..." Yamakaji said, correcting him. Then he smiled. "Now you've made me curious. Curious what kind of magic the Admiral-sama used to turn you into this."
"If you're curious, you'll fall under that magic too, Yamakaji." Momonga laughed.
After laughing, he glanced toward the small two-story building. "I was wavering before, but after seeing you today, I can finally decide. Yamakaji... I'm going to become an ability user. I have to get stronger."
Yamakaji blinked, then huffed with a mix of amusement and annoyance. "You bastard. What's that supposed to mean? Using me as some kind of negative example?"
"No, nothing like that. I can't really explain it. Seeing a close friend I haven't met in so long just... gave me strength out of nowhere. And that strength helped me make up my mind." Momonga shook his head with a smile.
Hearing that, Yamakaji stopped complaining. He scratched his head again and grinned foolishly. "Funny thing is... I feel the same. Seeing you suddenly makes me feel stronger somehow."
Momonga laughed heartily and didn't push the topic further. He grabbed Yamakaji's arm. "Come on. This place hasn't even been developed yet, conditions aren't great. I'll find you a room to rest first. Ortoren's probably still asleep."
"Huh? Back at headquarters, wasn't he more hardworking than both of us?" Yamakaji asked, surprised.
"That was when he was just a grunt with nothing to do, so of course he worked hard. Now he's busy every single day—what's wrong with letting him get some proper rest?" Momonga said instinctively, defending Ortoren.
Laughing and chatting, the two long-separated friends walked off together.