Chapter 97: Issho: If You’ll Have Me, I Wish to Call You My Godfather!
“It’s suffocating in there, the smoke’s so thick I can’t even keep my eyes open. Hurry up and finish, I’ll wait for you outside,” Gion said, holding the Den Den Mushi at the entrance of the gambling den.
On the other end, Ortoren laughed. “I’m coming out now, just wait a second.”
Before long, Ortoren pushed aside the curtain, walking out with a grin he couldn’t contain. Behind him trailed Issho, his face so bitter it looked as though the world had ended.
Gion blinked in confusion. One went in, and now two came out?
“And this is…?” she asked politely.
“This is Issho, claims to be just a wandering ronin.” Ortoren covered his mouth, struggling to hold back his laughter. After a pause, he added, “Sorry, let me correct that—he’s Issho, the so-called Gambling King of Kles Island!”
At those words, Issho’s face twitched, his mature, uncle-like features flushing red with embarrassment. Today had been a humiliating disaster.
“So what’s going on here?” Gion still didn’t quite understand.
“He owes me two million six hundred thousand Belly and can’t pay it back. If he worked it off, it’d take him two or three years. But since he’s built strong and sturdy, I decided to recruit him as my bodyguard until the debt’s cleared!” Ortoren said, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over.
“What!?” Gion stared at him in shock before quickly protesting, “Hey, don’t mess around! You’re a Marine—if word gets out you’re coercing people like this, it won’t look good! And wait—are you really that good at gambling? How long were you even in there? You won two million six hundred thousand Belly that fast?”
“Ah, no, no, don’t misunderstand. I didn’t force him—he agreed himself. And I didn’t even place a single bet, so it’s not that I’m good at gambling.” Ortoren hurried to explain.
Gion’s eyes widened further. “Then how does he owe you money?”
“I lent it to him!” Ortoren said righteously.
Gion: ???
Is that really something a righteous Marine should be saying?
Do you still plan on competing for this year’s “Model Marine” award
…Oh, right. The prize money wouldn’t compare to what he’s owed anyway. Never mind.
At that moment, Issho finally came to his senses and blurted out in shock, “You’re a Marine!?”
“Of course. Didn’t I introduce myself? I’m Benn Ortoren, Rear Admiral of Marine Headquarters.” Ortoren said, only now realizing he’d forgotten.
“You never said that!” Issho was dumbfounded. “I thought you were some traveling merchant…”
“Look at the size of him,” Gion interjected. “Does he look like a merchant to you?”
“Then where did you even get that kind of money to lend me? And you’re a Marine trying to hire me as your bodyguard? How does that even work?” Issho was thoroughly confused.
Ortoren’s my boss, but he’s a Marine. If I’m his bodyguard… does that make me a Marine too?
“As a Rear Admiral at Headquarters, I get premium benefits and allowances. They cover basically all my daily expenses, so my salary is practically untouched. For someone in my position to casually pull out a few million Belly—that’s perfectly reasonable, isn’t it?” Ortoren said with complete confidence.
Gion nodded seriously beside him. “Makes sense. In fact, I’ve been serving longer than you. Before leaving Marineford, I already had over a hundred million Belly in my savings.”
“One hundred million!?” Issho yelped. “Wait, the Marines are really that rich?”
This wasn’t the chaotic age that came after the Great Pirate Era, when trade collapsed, inflation soared, and money lost its value.
At this time, a hundred million Belly was an enormous fortune.
Twenty years later, it would take two hundred million to build a standard Marine Headquarters warship. But as Rear Admiral Ortoren knew, at present a warship only cost about seventy million Belly.
The comparison made one thing clear—Gion was absolutely a rich woman.
“Generally speaking, Marine officers enjoy excellent benefits. But becoming one isn’t easy—especially for those of us with general’s stripes. Unless you’ve got outstanding strength and a character people can rely on,” Ortoren said.
He paused, then glanced at Issho, who was still staring blankly, and teased, “What’s this? Interested in the Marines now?”
Issho finally snapped out of his daze about their wealth, swallowed hard, and said, “I wasn’t interested before. But now… I’m very interested. Do you know how much I make a day working at the fishing grounds?”
“How much?” Ortoren asked with a shake of his head.
“Two thousand Belly!” Issho ground out through clenched teeth. “That’s only sixty thousand a month. With other allowances, I might scrape together eighty thousand at most. Meaning, after paying for food and living, it’d take me at least three years to pay off the two million six hundred thousand I owe you… Meanwhile, you Marine officers are swimming in riches? What kind of society is this?”
“You work at the fishing grounds without ever risking your life at sea. Marines get good benefits, sure—but the death toll is no joke either!” Ortoren clapped him on the shoulder.
Risk and reward go hand in hand. That’s a near-universal truth.
Issho was quiet for a moment before saying, “To be honest, I believe I’ve got decent strength, fair character, and a strong sense of justice. I’ve always admired the Marines, just never had the chance to join. If you don’t mind, I’d gladly serve under you as a general!”
If age weren’t a problem, he might have even tried calling him godfather—then when his “godfather” fell in battle one day, maybe he could inherit something.
Issho then quickly added, “And don’t worry, I’m definitely not interested just because the Marines’ salary would let me gamble more freely. It’s purely for justice, you hear!?”
The hell? Just a minute ago you said you weren’t interested in the Marines, and now it’s all about justice!?
Though he mocked him inwardly, Ortoren nodded seriously on the surface.
“Exactly. For justice! Same reason I joined. Not for anything else, but because I had nowhere else to put my overflowing sense of justice!” he said, looking at Issho with conviction.
As a Rear Admiral, Ortoren naturally had the authority to grant postings. So far, though, he’d only filled half of one—the other half belonged to that brat, Rob Lucci.
The reason it was only “half” was because the Marines weren’t like the CP dogs, who ignored all humanity. The Marines had an image to maintain. They didn’t openly recruit children. They had to wait until Lucci was fifteen or sixteen, when he looked old enough, then get him a fake ID marking him as an adult before officially entering him into the rolls.
Otherwise, how could they justify it?
So right now, Lucci was essentially still in training at Marineford. Before leaving, Ortoren had even asked Zephyr-sensei to keep an eye on him, and he’d already reserved him a spot in a future officer training camp.
With his current rank, Ortoren couldn’t just hand Issho a general’s position—not even Commodore.
But a field officer’s rank? That he could give out easily. If Issho truly wanted to join, Ortoren could immediately appoint him as a Captain under his direct command.
In the Marines, whether you started from the bottom and climbed step by step or jumped straight up the ladder depended on two things: ability and connections.
Back then, Ortoren himself had relied on Garp’s connection to leap directly into a Captain’s rank, then went under Zephyr-sensei’s command, and graduated as a Commodore.
Now, he too was becoming part of the Marines’ vast web of connections—someone who could serve as a “backer.”
And one thing Ortoren particularly admired about Gion was that she never meddled. Like now—when Ortoren casually suggested recruiting Issho without so much as a background check, ready to hand him an officer’s post—she didn’t object at all.
That, in its own way, showed how much she trusted him.
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