The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 228 - 130: So Sweet

A soft breeze stirred the golden leaves carpeting the courtyard, carrying with it the subtle scent of autumn and tension unspoken.

Gion's sudden return had taken Darren completely by surprise—more than surprise, really. It was as if a blade had silently fallen through the air and split the moment in half.

He stood frozen, staring at the fallen fruit basket. The neatly wrapped fruits had burst through their decorative paper like tiny hearts cracked open. Or no—not tiny. They looked... wounded. As though a young girl's trust had scattered across the floor in the form of glossy apples and bruised plums.

"I really am hopeless..."

A bitter chuckle escaped Darren's throat. He rubbed his temples, as if doing so could press away the swirling headache now tightening around his skull like an iron band.

"Mr. Darren... are you okay?"

Toki's voice reached him softly, but not without concern. She'd been watching him stand there, motionless, with an expression like he'd just stepped barefoot into cold ashes.

"I'm fine, Toki," he replied, shaking his head lightly—though nothing about him suggested ease.

She hesitated. Then, with her usual quiet grace, she stepped toward the door, bent down, and began picking up the fruit. One by one. She brushed the dust from each piece with her sleeve, gentle and unhurried, as if handling something far more fragile than fruit. As if reassembling someone's broken thoughts.

Once the basket was refilled, she carried it back to his side and stood before him—her arms cradling the basket, her eyes clear.

"That girl... the one named Gion," she said softly. "It seemed like she likes you."

The words were light, almost conversational.

Darren's first impulse was to nod. To acknowledge. But something in his gut kicked in like a reflex. He stopped himself, heart skipping, head lifting suddenly to meet her gaze.

Toki stood there quietly, biting her lip. Her brows relaxed, not knitted, and her lips were not pressed tightly—but her eyes, her eyes held something Darren couldn't quite read. Something soft. Something almost... hurt.

And her cheeks—just barely puffed.

It made him want to disappear.

Darren: ...

Damn it all. Really.

Of all the battles he'd fought, of all the high-tension encounters he'd survived—this? This was worse.

He was used to being called a disgrace, and he didn't care about the nickname. Not really.

But there was still a difference between being a disgrace... and being despicable.

Even disgrace, he thought, should have some damn standards.

"Ahem... Toki, actually... Gion and I, it's not... not what you're thinking."

He pushed the words out with difficulty, trying to salvage a moment he hadn't prepared to explain.

But Toki's next words cut him off with the ease of a blade wrapped in silk.

"So you don't like Miss Gion?"

Darren: ...

He tried to speak, but her eyes—calm, patient, but undeniably earnest—held him like a net. He couldn't lie. He wouldn't.

He didn't lie to women.

But then, just as he stood drowning in awkward silence, she smiled.

And the entire rhythm of the world seemed to stutter.

"Then... you should pursue her."

Her voice was gentle, sincere. Her smile: delicate, radiant.

The kind of smile that could disarm a man better than any sword. The kind that felt like it belonged in a dream, not a morning courtyard.

"What... what!?"

Darren nearly choked. He took a half-step back as if the air itself had slapped him.

Had he heard that right?

These past few days, the bond between him and Toki had grown steadily. Their closeness had moved far beyond polite conversation. They hadn't crossed any lines, not yet—but there was understanding. Wordless, effortless understanding.

They lived under the same roof now. And in that modest little house tucked within the officers' compound, Toki had become the gentle heartbeat of the home.

Stuffed toys had appeared on the couch. Windowpanes were brightened with seasonal cutouts. The quiet clang of pots and bowls marked a rhythm of life Darren hadn't known he missed.

He'd grown to enjoy it—more than enjoy it. He even helped her clean up sometimes.

And then there were those two old bastards—Zephyr and Sengoku—who stopped by far too often with their thinly veiled smiles and not-so-veiled stares. They looked at him the way a father sizes up a boy dating his daughter. With affection, sure—but also with absolute murder in their eyes.

Without even realizing it, Toki had become... a wife.

Not in title, not in deed—but in presence.

She made that house feel whole.

"But, Toki... if I go after Gion... wouldn't you be... upset?" frёewebnoѵēl.com

Darren's voice faltered. Actually faltered.

That alone terrified him.

His mind spun through mental checklists and past experiences. Was this a trap? A test? Was she hiding her jealousy behind calm grace?

She's a woman, right? Women don't say things like this without a reason.

Unless... maybe she didn't like him at all?

No—that couldn't be. He had charm. Didn't he? His history in the North Blue said as much.

Besides, he knew how she looked at him sometimes—how her gaze lingered, how her ears flushed pink.

"No," Toki said, her voice warm as sunlight. "I wouldn't be upset."

She tilted her head, her tone still light, still innocent.

"Mr. Darren... you already told me about who you are. If I chose to stay by your side, I knew what I was accepting. All of it—the good and the bad."

"My father used to say: real heroes don't confine themselves to small things. The strong should enjoy more freedom than the weak. That's what true fairness means."

"And a man like you, Mr. Darren—bold, fearless, grand in spirit—to be loved by many women is not shameful. It's a blessing. For them."

Na... nani!?

Darren's jaw practically unhinged.

She meant it.

Toki, the softest woman he'd ever met—was telling him that loving more than one woman was acceptable?

That she understood?

That she approved!?

He wanted to laugh, cry, and drop to his knees in confusion all at once.

His brain stopped working. Fully.

Disgrace or not, there were some lines he didn't cross. Even in this world.

His past was playful, not cruel. His romances were mutual. His charm wasn't a weapon.

But now... this?

Wano... Wano was something else.

Forget bushido. This was the cultural gem.

His eye twitched for a full minute before he finally managed:

"...Sounds like your father was a very wise man."

Toki smiled sweetly.

"I think so too," she said.

Then she set the fruit basket aside and quietly slipped into the house. A moment later, she returned with a clean Marine uniform folded in her arms.

"Time to head out, Mr. Darren. You've got training today—and perhaps, you owe Miss Gion an apology."

Still reeling, Darren let her help him dress, lead him to the door, and push him gently out into the sunlight.

"Do your best! And don't forget to come home for dinner, okay, Mr. Darren?"

She waved after him with cheerful ease.

Darren raised his hand awkwardly in return, his legs carrying him toward the training camp on sheer autopilot.

He hadn't processed a single moment of what had just happened.

...

Long after he disappeared down the street, Toki lowered her hand.

She turned, closed the wooden door, and crossed the leaf-dappled courtyard.

Inside the kitchen, she washed the fruit clean, every movement calm, almost rhythmic. Then she moved to the living room and knelt gently onto the tatami mat.

She placed the fruit into a carved porcelain tray, one piece at a time, arranging them with care.

She looked serene. At peace.

A smile still lingered on her lips, soft and radiant.

She hummed—an old melody from her homeland, gentle and tinged with melancholy.

Her hand propped her chin. Her pink kimono swept the spotless floor beneath her. A newly bought shoji screen stood behind her like a stage backdrop.

She looked like something painted in a scroll—beautiful, timeless, and still.

"The fruit is very fresh. Miss Gion... she's a kind girl. I hope Mr. Darren doesn't make her sad."

She whispered the words like a prayer to no one.

Then she picked up a pear, and bit gently into it.

Juice spread across her tongue.

Her smile remained, warm and lovely.

But her eyes shimmered. Just faintly red.

"So sweet."

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To be continued...