Chapter Text
A newborn baby, everyone at the Marine Base watched the little creature with intrigue. It was rare for the Hero Garp to hold a child in his arms. What kind of careless mother would leave such a monster in charge of a poor baby?
The rookies laughed at the awkward grip, the older man’s hands trembling subtly, and his arms held the baby in a clumsy and uncomfortable manner. They murmured nonsense in low voices with their comrades, until someone with more experience gave them a warning glance.
The wiser ones watched the vice-admiral with hidden curiosity, as he walked down the hall, almost as if he were showing off the baby to the world. They didn’t dare ask, speak, or even look unless asked. For some reason, it felt like a delicate situation.
And unaware of the contradictory thoughts and gazes, Garp would walk down the hallway with the biggest smile in the world, holding the newborn in an ironic manner, yet carrying the little one as though it were a fragile piece of glass about to break.
No one did anything to break the awkward silence, to stop the astonished stares. Even though the cheerful Garp walked through the halls with the same smile he wore on any normal morning, you could still see the small twitch in his cheek, the way his lips stretched too far, and how, above all, his eyes didn’t reflect the same frustration as his “happiness.”
The eyes were the window to the soul, weren’t they? Everyone knew this and recognized it, which is why no one asked or even dared to breathe as the marine passed by.
It wasn’t until a rookie stepped into his path, and with a curious look, approached the man.
This simple action made the marines watching from afar, with sympathy and empathy, silently pray for the poor guy.
Today wasn’t a good day – it was obvious! Normally, Garp would give them intense training to vent his frustration, but... Unlike other times, there was a kind of melancholic aura surrounding him. What did this make the older man? More dangerous? More vulnerable? Both things couldn’t be good.
Expecting the terrible consequence from the young man’s previous action, the smaller one opened his mouth, and his words drifted through the air, reaching the vice-admiral’s ears, making his eyes, which had been focused on the baby, slowly shift away.
“Sir... May I ask whose child this is?” The lower-ranking marine spoke with an innocent curiosity. At that moment, everyone sighed and immediately held their breath. The gazes of the crowd watching intently shifted, knowing that if something bad happened, it was better not to be involved.
But, different from all expectations, Garp smiled. This time, his smile appeared more genuine, his mood improved, with a tone of voice that suggested he had been expecting the question in advance.
“Bahaha!” Garp laughed loudly.
He grabbed the baby, who had been nestled in his arms, by its limbs and showed the whole world his little offspring. This particular baby, with confused and wide eyes from the sudden blinding light, stared in surprise and, not understanding, babbled incoherently, according to witnesses' descriptions.
“It’s my daughter, Lucy! She’s just been born!” He held her out in front of the young rookie with both hands and smiled with excitement. The baby, still unaware of the situation, laughed as loudly as her father. Though, of course, it sounded more like a gasp, given that she was still a newborn. Her chubby legs and arms flailed with frustration, trying to free herself from the white blanket that wrapped her completely.
The baby was small, with a birthmark beneath her eye, and a sweet, cute face, pleasing to the eye with soft cheeks. It caused a chorus of “Aw” and cooing from everyone present. She was a sight to behold, a small smile forming on her little face, and strange babblings escaping her mouth.
Then, the legs of one, two, three, and more people would suddenly gather around the older man, keeping their distance and showing respect, as a warm situation formed, in contrast to the one before. The marines who had been holding their breath let out a sigh of relief. Voices, sweetened by the tenderness of the moment, spoke in high-pitched tones.
“I think she’s trying to communicate, sir.”
“She’s so cute!”
“Will you make her a successful marine?”
Questions piled up like bees to honey, and Garp, who was speaking with excitement about his daughter, answered each one, proudly caressing her. His eyes, previously cold and melancholic, were now filled with momentary happiness and joy.
The situation was entirely different from what many had thought. But why did everyone feel the terrible aura Garp was giving off? Whispered conversations could be heard between the distant cadets, naively thinking to themselves.
That’s what the rookies, who had been working with the older man for a short time—barely enough to count on the fingers of one hand—thought. But the higher-ranking and more experienced ones had already been informed about the matter. They watched from a distance, uncomfortable faces on display, unsure of what to do in the situation, not knowing whether to offer words of comfort or pretend they didn’t know anything and just praise the baby.
Some, pleased with the change in the tense atmosphere, approached and observed, some joining the conversation with curiosity, while others moved away, instinctively aware that it was the calm before the storm. There was a kind of emotion telling them something about the girl’s troubled birth. It was a silent agreement among the crowd, exchanging knowing glances. They shouldn’t ask too much about the baby’s origins.
“Who’s the mother, sir?” thought aloud one daring marine.
A silence followed. The voices that had sweetened the place immediately went quiet, and everyone stopped their actions, all eyes now glaring at the talkative marine.
As expected, the atmosphere shifted. The smiles that the vice-admiral had worn turned into a poker face in record time. His smile was quickly erased, and his hands gently squeezed the baby’s body. The twitch that had disappeared from his face returned.
The tension in the hallway was palpable.
They looked at the guilty party with mixed emotions and held their breath. It felt as if even the slightest noise would break the vice-admiral, whether it be out of anger or sadness—neither was good! Some even dared to move from their positions, taking a few steps back, as if the admiral was about to unleash his authority, usually reserved for the enemy.
Then he spoke. A sigh was heard. His eyes lowered to the confused, blissfully unaware face of the baby. His lips pressed together, and finally, he took a breath and spoke with a cold, cutting tone. (The crowd held their breath, closing their eyes, accepting their cruel fate.)
“She died.” His words broke, and that was all he said, offering no further details. More was expected, but this was enough to cause an uproar. A voice that was naturally cheerful and full of confidence had become weak and distant. A single, simple word coming from his mouth expressed for him what his body couldn’t. At that moment, the marines understood the gravity of the situation.
It felt as if the air could be sliced with a knife.
“I-I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t think of that, my apologies.” The terrified marine bowed so deeply his head nearly touched the floor. Cold sweat streamed down his face, he was pale, and his body trembled with fear and self-loathing. He had caused this situation. What would the vice-admiral do with him?
The others watched nervously. They waited with bated breath for the melancholic Garp’s next move. They stood frozen in place, faces pale and drained of color, the happiness that had once adorned their faces now gone.
Garp kept silent, a silence that seemed to last an eternity for the others. His face showed no emotion, and he appeared dazed. They expected a scolding, an attack, something that would allow the vice-admiral to take out his recent tragedy. But instead, his eyes narrowed into a painful, trembling smile, giving the crowd an interesting yet horrible expression.
“It’s alright. Today is a happy day for the arrival of this little one.” Garp gently caressed the baby, offering a small smile accompanied by a melancholic sigh, before entering his office without saying another word.
‘Did she die in childbirth?’ would be the collective thought of the onlookers, imagining the tragic story of the famous hero.
The rumor would not spread due to Garp’s influence in the matter. But secretly, it became a taboo in the barracks.
---
A two-year-old girl ran through the small wooden house, screaming with excitement. Her bulky dress, a gift from the old man, was now dirty, with dust and dirt staining the fine fabric.
A sixteen-year-old Dragon looked on with concern and fatigue, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and a haggard face.
Two years had passed since he had to leave the Marine to take care of his younger sister, and although he was secretly grateful to be freed from that hell, no "training" Garp could ever give him compared to taking care of the two-legged demon that ran around the house with excitement. She never got tired, truly.
Dragon, sitting on the small couch, stared dazedly. Lucy chased an insect as though her life depended on it, and the poor beetle scrambled frantically in every direction, over-exerting its tiny legs. Lucy didn’t care about the noise made by the metal pans she knocked over or the sound of ceramic plates breaking; she laughed and screamed with delight, unaware of the headache her brother was suffering from.
Dragon secretly prayed for the old man to come back and tell him to return to the Marine, while he retired to care for his daughter. Even though he knew that was something that would never happen.
He sighed wearily and grabbed the poor insect that had ventured into his peace territory. He would let the little one run around and break the furniture a little longer, but picking up everything and cleaning up the broken glass was not a pleasant task.
“Is this what you were after, Lucy?” He pointed at the bug that was frantically moving between his fingers. Its legs moved in desperation, trying to break free. From this perspective, Dragon was thankful he wasn’t born as an insect. Lucy was a monster to the fauna. He sighed to himself, thinking if the old man hadn’t given him that ridiculous creature book, this wouldn’t be happening.
Lucy clapped and laughed, reaching out her tiny hands to grab the animal. This was just another worry. She was limited by her height now, but when she grew, what kind of disasters would she cause? A shiver ran down his spine. He didn’t even want to think about it.
Dragon knelt to the girl’s level, handing her the beetle gently. Lucy smiled and grabbed it with the same strength, then began inspecting it curiously, only to drop it after a few seconds and start crying. What now?
In truth, Dragon couldn’t do this alone. This girl, who probably had hyperactivity issues, couldn’t stay still. The only way to keep her quiet was to feed her, but he couldn’t do that every five minutes—this girl devoured her meals at record speed!
He had told Garp about this issue. His patience had worn thin. He wasn’t cut out for raising hyperactive children, but the older man just laughed and said things like:
“Bahaha! She’s part of the family! She’s an innocent and sweet girl, she hasn’t done anything wrong!” What do you mean “nothing wrong”? Dragon could see the sweet, innocent girl with her hands in the cookie jar, standing in front of broken plates and furniture, smiling proudly as if she wasn’t the one responsible for the massive mess.
Then Garp would praise her and take her for walks around the ship, to tour the four seas and brainwash her with marine nonsense.
“Like father, like daughter! Come on, Lucy, dad will buy you the prettiest dresses and as many toys as you want!”
“Ah, memories! I was just like that, Dragon. You’ll see…”
Dragon had to ask the old man for a considerable amount of money each week to replace the broken items and buy enough food to feed more than ten people. At least he was taking care of things financially.
He was really doing it. Two years of experience raising kids. He just hoped Lucy’s personality wouldn’t become unpleasant because of this lousy upbringing. He couldn’t handle a spoiled, unpleasant girl! A noble from the neighboring kingdom wouldn’t be much different. He was going to do everything he could to make sure Lucy awakened her revolutionary spirit.
But returning to the present, loud whining filled the house, and with sacred patience, Dragon picked the little girl up into his arms and gently rocked her affectionately. This was what two years of experience and sleepless nights had taught him.
"What’s wrong? Do you want the beetle again? Why don’t we just move mealtime up a bit?"
Lucy then calmed down and started pointing at the kitchen with joy. Her mouth was drooling and her eyes sparkled with desire. How did this girl not have stomach problems? She ate every two hours...
"What do you want to eat, Lucy?"
"Meat!"
Dragon sighed. Lucy could speak and walk at a young age. He knew that wasn’t normal according to the book he had read. But it was fine. There were plenty of kids who did things early, and what he did know was that her abnormal strength to break things wasn’t common. He could already guess why the old man forgave her for everything—he wanted to turn her into a Navy officer! His eyes filled with tears just imagining it. This was a war. The result would be decided by the future. Would Lucy be a revolutionary or a miserable dog of the World Government?
Ah, his fantasies were ruling his mind again. He really needed to sleep. This wasn’t like him.
He walked to the kitchen, set Lucy in a chair near the table, and strapped her in with a seatbelt, making a few more adjustments. He wasn’t sure if it would stop her, but there had been plenty of times when, for some reason, she had managed to free herself from the straps and continue her mess-making while Dragon cooked. He eyed the seat uneasily. Maybe he should get a stronger one.
He moved away from the scene and began unpacking the raw meat, making sure the smell would reach the little girl’s nose, a quick way to keep her in place.
After finishing the task, with food ready and a now-calmed, hungry Lucy, Dragon finally got his short break. He really missed Garp’s training—at least there, he’d get eight hours of proper sleep...