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The sun beat down hard on the grounds surrounding New Marineford. The air filled with the clatter of training swords slamming against each other, grunts of exertion as new recruits ran paces around the ring-shaped fields that their peers were sparring in. Save for the occasional gull cry, or the distant sound of waves crashing on the rocks of the island’s edges, it was a peaceful afternoon for the preparation for war.
Garp squinted in the sunlight, watching his trainees vigilantly from a courtyard vantage point. This far along in their courses, he knew he didn’t need to, really; anyone he would have feared falling behind the rest of the batch were so worried about the ire of his infamous fist, that they were practically running themselves.
Way to make an old man feel more obsolete. He grimaced, glancing down to allow himself a small break from his rigid attention. His bones popped with a bit of strain, forcing him to grit his teeth in frustration as he limbered up his aching shoulders.
“You shouldn’t push yourself; your joints don’t sound like they can take much more abuse.” Garp snapped up at the surprise voice, glancing back over his shoulder. A mountain of a figure, even while smaller than Garp himself, made his way across the stone; his long, white jacket billowed out around him, illuminating the royal purple of his robes. Each step was joined by the careful, gentle tap, tap, tap of his cane bouncing across the courtyard in front of him, translucent eyes seeing something just past Garp’s left side.
He stood to attention instantly, all aches forgotten in the company of the man before him. “Admiral Fujitora.”
“You can relax, Vice Admiral. I’m not here on official business.” Fujitora smiled, in a way that made Garp feel like he was missing part of the joke; then his head tilted ever so slightly, still looking just past the older man’s head. “You are Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp, if I’m not mistaken.”
Garp hesitated before letting his shoulders slump an inch, suddenly wary of the Admiral’s presence. He had heard enough about the man to have an idea of his character; he had also heard enough around the Headquarters that his actions, especially recently, hadn’t been well-received among many of his peers. His jaw set as he gave a slow nod.
“...you’re not mistaken, no.” A silence hung between the two men, any number of thoughts being traded back and forth before the Admiral gestured to the nearby view.
“May I join you for a moment?” Garp frowned again, more out of surprise than anything else, but obliged, making room next to him. Fujitora shuffled forward, large hands bracing against the rough stone of the railing, and they fell into another silence, albeit a more comfortable one.
They stood like that for a moment. Garp glanced to the side, trying to read the Admiral’s expression, but saw only a man content in the moment he existed in, the sun warming his smile and spilling shadows into the creases of his face.
“It’s a good day, beyond the walls of this base. Too good a day for war.” He spoke, almost to himself as much as he was to Garp. “If you stop and look for it, you can find the smells of an island a half-day East. I think they have orchards there; I’ve never been there myself.” Garp stared at Fujitora’s face, still unwavering, while his brain trying to catch up to wherever in their conversation Fujitora must have jumped to, before settling on just the first part for now.
“...sure. It’s a good enough day, I guess.” Another silence, before he continued. “I’m surprised you’re wasting it here. I’d heard you were on some kind of leave, after that mess in Dressrosa.” The Admiral laughed at that, staring down at his weathered hands atop the stone.
“That’s not incorrect. I’m taking a… personal journey to reflect on my true objective.”
“Well, sometimes time is good.” Garp huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest and forcing his stare back down on the recruits in the field. “Clear your head. Figure out where you stand on things.”
“Hm. I’m sure it will be most enlightening when it’s at its end.”
Another silence.
“You’re familiar with a band known as the Straw Hat Pirates, traveling across the New World these past months.” It was phrased more like a statement than a question, and Garp couldn’t help but flick back down to look down at the Admiral. Fujitora glanced back up at him, a sliver of a smile spreading across his face.
“In a professional context, of course. You had a few encounters with them back during your time on the Grand Line.” Garp held his gaze, before swallowing down whatever had clawed its way up his throat at the new direction in conversation. At the very least, the man was politely avoiding the chance to prod at Garp's relationship with the Straw Hats—or their captain—and for that much at least, he was grateful.
“I did. A handful of times.”
“And their captain.”
Another pause. Maybe Garp had been too hasty in his judgment.
“...yeah. Him too.”
Fujitora looked out across the fields again, his gaze lifting up a few degrees to peer up at the stretch of blue that spanned the slim gap between the main building of the base, and the first of the surrounding walls. The older man couldn’t help but think his expression serene, despite the jagged lines that crossed his face.
“Could you describe him to me?”
Garp couldn’t help but flinch at the request, the furthest from whatever he thought the Admiral would have asked from him.
“Sorry, sir?”
“The captain. Monkey D. Luffy. Can you tell me what he looks like?” The Vice Admiral searched his superior officer’s face for any sign of malice, or desperation, or… anything, but found nothing but that same, peacefulness. Patience, as he waited for Garp to respond. The man grunted, twisting back to face the same direction as Fujitora as he leaned his full weight on the railing, looking down at the stones below his feet. The Admiral didn’t move once, until Garp finally opened his mouth.
“He’s… scrawny. For the punch that kid can pack, he looks like you could snap him in half if you put enough elbow grease into it.” Fujitora glanced over in Garp’s direction as the older man spoke, not prying, but encouraging more. With a sigh, Garp obliged him again.
“Wide eyes, too. Like he’s trying to see the whole world at once, just to make sure he gets it all.” He glanced back at Fujitora, a small snort escaping his nose. “He’s got this scar, just under his left eye. Did it to himself to impress some band of pirates back when he was a kid—in the East Blue, from what I heard.” Fujitora laughed again, a deep, rolling tone as his shoulders shook.
“You can seldom predict the actions of a child.”
“You can at least help the kid take smart actions instead of enabling his dumbass shenanigans.” A bit of fire seeped back into Garp’s voice at the thought, remembering his first time checking in on the brat after Red Hair and his band had left port; finding instead a scruffy scrap of a boy with dangerous ideals and an inability to swim. “He’s brash, and stubborn; although if you tangled with him, I’m sure you know that much already.”
That much runs in the family, I guess. Garp rubbed his temples, trying to figure out how he had gotten to this point in his afternoon, when Fujitora spoke again.
“What color is his hair?” The Admiral sounded a little more earnest this time, feeling around for details. Garp hesitated at the specific, but found himself responding readily.
“Er… dark hair. A big mop of it, although you hardly see it under that damn hat of his.” Garp paused again, heaving into a more relaxed pose as he looked off at nothing in particular.
“...the kid’s always moving. He’s got this… energy to him. Like he never runs out of steam, like he can do anything he wants if he tries hard enough and fast enough.”
“Sounds like a handful.” Fujitora murmured, lips twinging up at the corners. Garp laughed.
“That’s putting it lightly. Practically took everything to keep him in one place for more than an hour, and even that’s optimistic if he’s feeling like being an especially large brat when you try to go for him. I’m amazed I beat as much as I did into that thick skull of his…”
The energy shifted as the words left Garp’s mouth, and with it carried the conversation from professional to familiar. He instantly set his jaw again, eyes flicking back down to the cadets as a growl bubbled up from his throat.
“I’d better see another ten sets down there if you numbskulls plan on heading to the mess hall after!” His voice boomed out across the training grounds, the very air seeming to shake with his tone, and he saw it was instantly met with another burst of activity from down below. He tried his best to look satisfied, like that had been his intention all along, and tried to find a spot for himself in the new, different air of silence that hung between him and Fujitora.
The tension grated down on Garp’s head, mentally kicking himself for letting a slip like that out in front of an officer of Fujitora’s stature, when the Admiral asked the last thing Garp would have expected.
“Is he kind?”
“...who? Straw Hat?” Fujitora didn’t respond, but the question still hung heavy in the air over the two of them, like a trap that Garp couldn’t see, but couldn’t help but feel like he would spring by answering. He sighed, twisting his body to lean back against the railing, staring in the opposite direction of Fujitora now.
“...yeah. He’s an arrogant, stubborn brat, with dreams passed onto him from a fool—who learned from an even bigger fool.” He steeled his eyes, not daring to look over at his superior for even a moment.
“For all that? It might get him into more trouble than it’s worth someday, but he has a big heart. A good heart.” The Vice Admiral frowned, eyes slowly, heavily closing as his figure deflated a bit. “That part, I know he didn’t get from me.”
Fujitora remained silent for a moment longer, seeming to roll Garp’s words around in his mind as he continued to stare out at the clear, perfect blue sky above New Marineford. Finally, carefully, he said—
“I’m glad.”
With a small hum, he straightened himself up, hand once more grasping the handle of his cane and clearing his throat before giving a polite bow.
“I’ve taken enough of your time, Vice Admiral. If you’ll permit me, I’ll take my leave of you.” Garp eyed the Admiral out of the corner of his eye, trying once more to read his face. He seemed largely the same, but there was something underneath the surface that seemed… Satisfied? Pleased? The older man couldn’t tell.
“...of course, sir. I appreciate the company.” He snapped off another salute, which Fujitora once more waved off before turning to depart. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder, seeming to look directly into Garp’s own eyes.
“And thank you. You’ve done an old man a service he thought would remain unfulfilled.”
He left with that, his cane once more tap, tap, tapping out across the stones as he left from the same direction he had arrived from, turning off onto the path that led down to the docks. Garp stood there, staring after him until his purple-trimmed jacket had disappeared from sight, and then for a few moments after that. Finally, once he was certain he was alone once more, he turned back to the training grounds. Several of the trainees were on the ground, trying to catch their breath after being pushed through their paces, and Garp couldn’t bring himself to push them any further that afternoon, so he let them be.
After a moment of trying to process the conversation, his hand found his forehead, massaging the pounding underneath his skull.
Then, his jaw set once more, he rose back up, his back straightening with a light popping as he grunted, staring out once more at the field. The sun continued its descent through the sky above; training would end soon, himself and his trainees would leave for dinner, and he would pretend not to think any more of his encounter with the Admiral; because if he told himself enough, anything could be true.
Garp let out a grunt, the corner of his mouth turning into a sneer as he glanced up beyond the walls of the fortress.
It really was a terrible day for war.