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The door to his office swung open and slammed shut, as if on an errant breeze—only all his windows were closed today due to the driving rain. Sengoku sat up straighter and reached out with Observation, catching on a young Voice whose owner smoothly hauled himself up onto his desk to stare at Sengoku with those unsearchable eyes. Garp’s grandson possessed what seemed a double dose of Garp’s own emotional intuition, and Sengoku had quickly learned it made him more of a menace than his grandfather—primarily due to the Monkey-Typical lack of a filter.
Luffy frowned at him and scurried over to get in Sengoku’s personal space, throwing his weird rubber arms around his neck and holding tight. “Senny’s missing somebody,” he said.
If Garp had walked in and punched Sengoku it would have knocked less air out of him. Mouth pressed in a firm line, he returned the hug, swallowing until he could talk without his voice wobbling. “My son. He—it’s been a year today, since he. . . passed.”
Luffy hummed, letting go to sit back on the desk and kick his feet in the air. “I miss Sabo a lot, too. I’ll probably always miss him. Ace too, but I’ll see him again someday. I’m sorry Senny’s son is gone like Sabo. . . Was he nice?”
Roci’s face flashed in his mind, pinched with worry over things he couldn’t fix. “Too kind for his own good, I’m afraid.” His voice cracked a bit midway, but Luffy didn’t comment on it. “He died trying to stop his brother from hurting people.”
Tilting his head to the side, Luffy frowned. “His brother hurt him?” Sengoku nodded, not trusting his voice. “So his brother’s a jerk. Did you catch him?”
“Not yet, unfortunately.” Not for the first time, he was struck by how like Garp this kid was, to pare down to the heart of a matter with a few words. Hopefully, that would be a boon for the Marines. Sengoku might not appreciate all of Garp’s absurdity, but that bone-deep honesty and clear sight had always been valuable assets. “Was Sabo a friend or a sworn brother like Ace?”
“Brother. Ace and Sabo were the same age so they were always faster and stronger than me.”
“Hmm.” He could imagine that any child raised by Garp would be ridiculously strong, and undoubtedly just as headstrong as Luffy was. Still, he should probably ask: “Do you want Ace to come here?”
“No.” A flat refusal. Unsurprising though it was, Sengoku raised an eyebrow, inviting him to explain. “Sabo was in a cage before and he hated it. We promised we’d be free for him too after that stupid Noble shot him. I have to be here but Ace needs to be free.”
He opened his mouth to say, Marineford isn’t a cage, but to this boy, it was. He wasn’t here because Garp wanted it, he wasn’t here because he wanted it—Luffy was stuck here because a Holy Knight had ordered it so, to keep the kid here on account of his father’s rising fame as the Revolutionary (a turn of events Sengoku still had no satisfactory explanation for).
“I’m sorry this place is a cage to you, Luffy. It isn’t meant to be.”
“Not Senny’s fault. Or Gramps’ either.” He yawned, alarmingly wide, and hopped into Sengoku’s lap. “I’ll stay so Senny doesn’t feel so lonely, okay?” And then he fell asleep, a bundle of heat tucked against Sengoku’s stomach.
Sengoku got a lot more work done that day than he’d expected, comfortably quiet. Tsuru popped in briefly, ostensibly to give him an update on the North Blue operations, but he suspected it had more to do with the anniversary. She made no comment about the slumbering eight-year-old in his lap, but her lips twitched into a smile when she spotted him, and left a snack on the desk as she walked out.
As hard as this transition would be for the boy, and as absurd as the situation was, Sengoku was still grateful that this was the solution the powers that be had come up with for Dragon’s son. There were much worse options, and most of those would have no doubt cost them one headache-inducing, vitally-important-for-morale Vice Admiral as well. (He did not want to consider the potential ripples from such a loss. That was the sort of thing that invited a frenzy from the various sharks in the New World who would scent the blood in the water, even if one ignored what Dragon might have chosen to do about it.)
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It had been yet another year since Rocinante's death, and Sengoku stared down at the report sitting innocently on his desk, wishing he could go back to that time when the kid would come and sit with him instead of causing incidents. His secretary had set the paper down with the exacting precision of bomb-handling that had set his hair on end even before he’d read it. He could admit, though, that he wasn’t surprised by the content so much as the careful wording of it.
He’d known, from that first day when Kong dropped a child trapped in a sea stone net on his desk and everyday since over the last seven years, that there would be a fallout. Luffy had knuckled down and trained obediently (outside of a couple incidents) but there had always been an underlying understanding that it was a temporary truce. Compliance out of necessity, not loyalty.
So, yes, Sengoku would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected this outcome. Commodore Faraday was no fool and had expressed his own concerns about Luffy’s assignment to his squadron the day he’d been informed, nearly a month ago. The fact that it had taken a month for something to go wrong spoke to how well Faraday had handled it all.
Then there was the report.
Faraday had been very circumspect in detailing the events of the mission. The report focused on their objective of taking down those pirates, which had been achieved without issue, and mentioned how effective the use of Luffy’s Devil Fruit had been (never let it be said a Monkey would turn down a fun fight). From there, Faraday stepped very carefully through explaining that Luffy had ‘removed a threat from the squadron’ and ‘disappeared into the Florian Triangle.’
Sengoku could read through the lines though.
Luffy had jumped ship, apparently carrying someone unknown, and the Marines on the one warship that wasn’t a standard part of their squadron (back up from Steiglitz’s squadron) had all simultaneously fallen unconscious. Faraday had not laid the blame for the unconscious Marines at Luffy’s feet, nor implied it was the case, but Sengoku knew the strength of Luffy’s haki. Either he’d allowed whoever he was ‘removing’ to knock those men down or he’d done it himself.
Sengoku had assigned Luffy to Faraday because of the fact most of the squadron liked Luffy or else were more lenient with his occasional insubordination because they knew the greater circumstances of his service. More importantly though, Luffy liked Faraday enough to listen to him, which made all the difference. It said something that for all Faraday’s initial concerns, he’d provided the boy with the benefit of the doubt when anyone else would have been labeled a traitor nigh immediately. The brat had clearly won him over.
Sighing heavily, Sengoku pulled out the envelope he had stashed in a lesser used compartment. SWORD was a newer faction within the Marines, but its commander was one of the few like Faraday that Luffy respected. At Tsuru’s suggestion, Sengoku had surreptitiously gotten Luffy to fill out the paperwork that would render him part of SWORD—though for his sanity’s sake they hadn’t told Luffy what that meant.
Now was the time to, ahem, retroactively file that paperwork, then call Drake to tell him about his new subordinate in case anyone thought to ask.
The reminder of Drake made him smile the slightest bit. Luffy had been enamored with Drake’s Zoan form and so utterly fearless that it had visibly thrown the young man the first time they’d met. That they faced similar hostility for who their fathers were, even if Garp’s influence kept the worst of it off Luffy’s shoulders, had cemented a sort of kinship between them that Sengoku had strived to propagate. After all, the more positive connections Luffy—well, both of them really—had the better off they would all be.
Of course this had also led to Luffy biting two members of Drake’s training unit for daring to gang up on his friend. Garp, the bastard, had only laughed while Sengoku did his best to tell an extremely miffed nine-year-old that he shouldn’t bite unless his arms were tied. Then of course, Tsuru had added that he should have gone for their kneecaps instead, which had led to a string of cadets admitted to the infirmary with child-induced broken bones. Sengoku had made sure Tsuru was the one to deal with the annoyed medical staff as punishment, though even Dr. Ada could admit it was a good thing after all, since they saw a dramatic decrease in overt violence aimed at Drake after that.
He would almost miss those days. Now that the boy was old enough to run amok, things would only get messier. Doing damage control for Garp alone was often nightmarish. Luffy was even less predictable. At least Dragon had finally been captured, though. One fewer headache running around would always be appreciated.
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Impel Down loomed impressively as the Melody approached. Garp, eyes shaded by the bulldog hood, stared ahead, scanning with both his eyes and his Observation. He’d been granted permission to visit, provided he ‘left with no additional personnel on his ship,’ which was Senny-speak for ‘no prison breaks.’ He’d comply with that. Out of respect for Senny sure, but primarily because Dragon had been an adult when he made his choice, fully fledged and out of the nest, free to make his own mistakes and face the consequences for them. Garp had promised himself he’d not interfere with those consequences.
But he was still Garp’s son, and it had been years since the last time he’d spoken to him, longer still since he’d seen his face outside of bounty posters. It was time.
Magellan greeted him with his usual groveling that Garp ignored, gruffly expressing that he would visit the Revolutionary without leaving room for questions. Credit where it was due, the man hopped to it and sent a set of guards to escort him.
Garp was all set to ignore them when his Observation caught on to a familiar Voice. His chest clenched painfully but he didn’t let it show on his face. With a terse nod, he accepted the escort, keeping the imposter in his peripheral view as they moved deeper into the prison. The brat did well, never drawing attention to himself, never faltering in the decorum expected of Impel Down’s guards, in spite of Garp’s attention. Hell, if Garp hadn’t recognized him, he would never have known the difference.
His hands flexed into fists reflexively. The brat’s presence here suggested he was one of Dragon’s men. Technically, he should do something about that but. . . he couldn’t. He’d failed his boys enough already.
He still wouldn’t interfere, but that extended to not giving the brat away, too. Senny couldn’t be mad at him if the Revs rescued their boss, after all, so long as he wasn’t there when the rescue happened. Hmm. He’d have to make sure he was long gone before the break out happened.
Dragon’s Voice touched the edges of his awareness, a deep resignation igniting into horror that he promptly wrestled down under a solid layer of calm. The brat had stiffened minutely in time with that flash of horror. Good, so he had some measure of haki. That would give him better odds here.
Turning his attention away, Garp marched down the hallway until he found his son, chained to a wall. Dragon looked up, face and posture expressing a curated boredom that would have just about anyone convinced he was completely unconcerned about this turn of events. Garp knew better though. Even without that brief lapse of control, he could tell how sharp Dragon’s attention was.
The escorts dutifully retreated around the corner and away (they didn’t know to be worried), but Garp clamped a hand on the brat’s shoulder. Credit to his training, he didn’t panic, instead opting to ask, “Is there something else you need, Vice Admiral?”
Garp looked down at him. His face was mostly hidden by the standard issue hat, but he caught the edges of a burn scar now that he was properly looking. “Yes, I’d like to know if you actually came in here with a plan, brat.”
Sabo stilled. “Wh-what do you mean, sir?”
He sighed heavily. “At least make sure you wait to bust him out until after I’m gone, or else I’ll have to do something about it, you understand?” The brat’s Voice betrayed his utter confusion and alarm, but Garp didn’t have time for that. He turned to Dragon, who stared at them openly. All the words he’d planned to say had melted away on the walk down to Level Six. So all he could say was, “Don’t come back here.”
He was a Marine, and breaking promises was one of his lines in the sand. It tore at him to know that all of his family had chosen to walk on the other side of the law, but that never meant he loved them less. Still, he couldn’t help them any more than this.
So he walked away, leaving his previously presumed dead grandson to his rescue mission and ignoring the quiet call of “Dad?” behind him, even though it made his eyes burn.