The Profound Principles of Managing G5

After three glorious days on Hawaii Island, spending every last penny of their hard-earned bonuses, the 11th Division reluctantly sailed back to base.

Seeing his crew so cheerful, Roya felt a wave of relief wash over him. Following me hasn't been easy, after all.

Half a day later, they arrived at the infamous G-5 Fortress.

"Rear Admiral Roya is back!"

The cry ripped through the air like a thunderclap, electrifying the entire G-5 Branch. Marines poured out, rushing towards the docks in a surge of excitement.

In the Base Chief's office, quiet was shattered.

"What in the world is going on?"

Maynard, who had been fighting off sleep, jolted awake. The commotion outside made him scramble to the window, peering out with bleary eyes.

What fresh hell are these guys about to unleash?

Down at the docks, Overhead and his crew stood in a haphazard line, struggling to stand tall and puff out their chests. They were clearly trying to make a good impression.

They were even more excited than when they welcomed Maynard!

As Roya stepped off the warship, a deafening roar erupted from the Marines, shaking the very ground beneath their feet.

"Rear Admiral Roya, welcome back!"

"Good, full of energy!"

Roya nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Good. I thought Vergo's betrayal would have crushed their spirits, but they seem to have bounced back nicely.

"Woof!"

General Watchdog, a stout pug, barreled towards Roya, showering him with enthusiastic licks.

"Alright, alright, I know you missed me."

Roya gently pushed the overzealous dog away. General was adorable, but he'd grown to the size of a small bull!

After a brief flurry of excitement, Roya walked alongside Commodore Overhead towards the heart of the fortress.

"Anything happen while I was gone?"

"Same old, same old."

Overhead was used to Roya's presence by now. With Vergo gone, G-5 needed a leader, and in their minds, no one was more fit for the job than Roya.

Not many officers would protect scum like them!

Oh, right! The new Base Chief took office. What was his name again?

Overhead scratched his head, struggling to remember. After a long pause, he gave up.

"Oh, Rear Admiral Roya, the G-5's new Base Chief has arrived. Do you want to go meet him?"

"Yes, I'll pay my respects."

Roya nodded.

It was only right to greet the new Base Chief. Good manners were important, after all.

"Smoker, Hina, Barto!"

Gathering his key subordinates, Roya made his way to the Base Chief's office. Straightening his uniform, he raised his hand and knocked on the door.

"Knock, knock!"

"Come in."

A weary voice answered.

Roya and his crew exchanged glances. Something was off about that voice. It sounded like he hadn't slept in days.

They entered the office to find a man slumped on the sofa, lost in thought. Hina quietly whispered, "It's Vice Admiral Maynard."

"Mm."

Roya gave a subtle nod.

"Vice Admiral Maynard, the 11th Division of the G-1 Branch reporting for duty!"

"G-1 Branch..."

Maynard looked up.

The dark circles under his eyes, his gaunt cheeks, and his generally haggard appearance shocked them all.

"Vice Admiral Maynard, are you alright?"

"I won't die."

Maynard waved his hand dismissively, sadly lighting a cigarette.

He'd only been at G-5 for three days, three sleepless days, and lost only ten-odd pounds. It wasn't that big of a deal.

Maynard offered the pack to Roya.

"Want one?"

"Thank you."

Roya took a cigarette without hesitation.

This Vice Admiral looked awfully miserable.

Maynard smoked, lost in gloomy thoughts.

He'd been at G-5 for three whole days, and not a single Marine could remember his name!

Every time he gave instructions, the Marines looked at him with suspicion.

"Hey, buddy, who are you?"

Is my name really that hard to remember!

And there were countless other problems. He wanted to review the details of G-5, such as the list of Marines, the Branch's funds, the weapon inventory, everything.

"I don't know!"

"Why don't you ask someone else?"

"Vice Admiral Maynard, that's way too complicated for me."

Even the Unit Commanders were clueless.

Fine, if they didn't know, he'd check himself!

But the archives were infested with rats bigger than cats. They'd chewed through everything, and he couldn't even find a complete piece of paper.

And the safe where the Branch's funds were kept was empty, cleaner than his face.

"The money?"

"Of course it was spent!"

"It would be a waste to keep it, right?"

He could still see the self-satisfied looks on his subordinates' faces.

The huge G-5 Branch, with its six combat units and nearly 2,000 people, didn't have a single capable person who could help.

And they were all just making things worse.

Every day, they were either abusing pirates or causing trouble, as if they wouldn't be happy unless they were doing something outrageous.

Training? Forget about it!

As a responsible person, he just wanted to fulfill his duties as Base Chief and make G-5 better.

Why was it so hard?

Maynard clutched his head, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Tell me, is it easy for me?"

"No, it's not easy at all!"

Roya patted Maynard on the shoulder, deeply understanding his feelings.

When he first came to G-5, he'd also thought about being serious and training these idiots.

But that thought only lasted for ten minutes.

He quickly realized that being a good Base Chief of G-5 was actually very simple.

Don't manage anything. Let the subordinates do whatever they want. Focus on corruption and bribery, and you'd be a perfect G-5 Branch Base Chief!

The more serious you were, the worse things got.

As long as the Marines below didn't starve to death, that was enough.

If you were too good to them, they might even see you as an enemy.

Every Marine in G-5 had been rejected by other Branches. If they could be easily reformed, they wouldn't have ended up like this.

People like Barto had grown up with nothing, relying on trickery, deceit, and scavenging to survive. They couldn't even read. What morals could you expect from them?

Survival of the Fittest was the only truth they believed in. The terrible world had shaped them into what they were.

After a moment of shared misery, Maynard wiped his eyes, sighed deeply, and looked at Roya, Smoker, and the others, asking in confusion, "You're from G-1, right? What are you doing at G-5?"

"Good question!"

Roya spread his hands.

"Well, Vice Admiral Momonga probably thought we were corrupting the atmosphere of G-1, so he kicked us out. Coincidentally, we get along really well with the G-5 buddies, so we plan to settle down here for a while."

"Settle down... for a while?"

Maynard's eyes went blank.

Now he remembered. Black Hair was a notorious troublemaker in the Marines, causing chaos during Training Camp, and the Mohican Incident had shocked everyone, even Marshal Sengoku was furious about it.

Managing G-5 was already hard enough.

Why did this terrible plague have to come and infect me too!

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[T/N:

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