The weight of Monkey D. Garp's expectant, hopeful gaze was surprisingly heavy, even for a reincarnated soul with cosmic wishes under her belt. He loomed, a friendly, cracker-obsessed mountain of a man, his enormous, scarred face just inches from mine, his breath a potent cocktail of sea salt, something vaguely fishy, and an undercurrent of… was that gunpowder? All he wanted, this legendary Hero of the Marines, this man who could punch mountains into submission and who had, in his own bizarre way, become my grandfather, was for me to utter a simple, affectionate "Oji-chan."
My one-year-old brain, a chaotic nexus of adult memories, nascent god-like powers, and the immediate, pressing concerns of an infant (namely, when was the next nap and was that shiny thing over there edible?), whirred. What was a Pirate King's reincarnated, wish-powered daughter supposed to say to that? The sheer, unadulterated, mind-boggling absurdity of my entire existence crashed down on me in that moment, encapsulated by this simple, almost ludicrously tender plea.
Fine then, a weary, almost resigned part of my adult consciousness sighed. I'm gonna live this life anyway, aren't I? Trapped in this tiny, squishy, adorable meat-suit. Might as well lean into it. Time to adapt, Ann. Play the part. Be the cute, gurgling baby. And maybe, just maybe, if I play it well enough, these terrifying, violent, emotionally stunted individuals might actually keep me alive long enough to figure out how to, you know, not be a baby anymore.
A new determination, surprisingly fierce for a one-year-old, sparked within me. I focused, marshaling all the mental acuity my wish-enhanced brain could muster and trying to channel it through the hopelessly inadequate wiring of my infant vocal cords.
Okay, Ann, you can do this. You've faced down cosmic entities and survived being turned into roadkill. Saying a few baby words can't be harder than that… can it? Then, the frustrating reality hit me. Damn it! I can't just speak it straight, can I? The words are clear in my head, but my tongue feels like a fat, uncooperative slug, and my lips just want to make 'buh-buh-buh' sounds. It IS because I'm a baby! This is… humbling.
I took a deep baby breath, which probably just looked like a particularly enthusiastic gurgle. I looked up into Garp's hopeful, almost childlike eyes. Here goes nothing.
"O... Oji... Oji-cha!" The syllables came out mangled, slurred, more "Ozzhee-tzaa" than the crisp "Oji-chan" Garp had boomed. It was a wet, gurgly sound, punctuated by a happy little baby sigh.
The effect was instantaneous and, frankly, astounding.
Garp's entire demeanor transformed. His already wide grin stretched to impossible proportions, threatening to split his face in two. His eyes, those fierce orbs that had stared down Pirate Kings and Sea Monsters, actually welled up with… tears? Giant, glistening, unmanly tears began to track down his leathery, sun-weathered cheeks.
"SHE SAID IT! SHE SAID IT! DID YOU HEAR THAT, YOU LOT?! SHE CALLED ME OJI-CHAN!" he roared, not with his usual battle-cry volume, but with a choked, ecstatic bellow that was somehow even louder. He gently, almost reverently, scooped me up in one colossal hand, holding me aloft like a tiny, precious trophy. "GAHAHAHAHAHA! ANN-CHAN! MY SMART LITTLE GRANDDAUGHTER! YOU'RE A GENIUS! A PRODIGY! THE SMARTEST BABY IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!" He nuzzled his rough, stubbled cheek against mine, which was both scratchy and surprisingly affectionate. The smell of him was overwhelming – salt, iron, old battles, and an undercurrent of something that might have been rice crackers.
The assembled Dadan Family, who had been watching this spectacle with a mixture of fear, awe, and utter bewilderment, erupted.
"WHOAAAAA! SHE TALKED!" Magra yelled, his eyes wide as saucers, looking utterly astounded, as if I'd just recited the entire history of the Void Century.
"Amazing, Boss! The little brat actually said something coherent!" Dogra exclaimed, equally impressed, his long nose quivering with excitement.
Gordo, Scalzo, and Pip, the other named bandits, let out a collective cheer, thumping each other on the back and grinning like idiots. "To Ann-chan's first words!" Gordo boomed, raising an imaginary mug.
Dadan herself looked… flabbergasted. Her jaw was slack, her usual fearsome scowl replaced by an expression of stunned disbelief. Her orange hair seemed to droop slightly. "She… she actually… huh." A faint, almost invisible flush crept up her neck.
Even Minerva, who had maintained her serene, enigmatic composure throughout Garp's arrival, allowed a small, genuine smile to touch her lips. Her dark eyes, usually so cool and assessing, held a flicker of something that might have been… amusement? Or perhaps just polite acknowledgement of a significant developmental milestone.
Buoyed by this unexpected success, and the sheer, unadulterated joy radiating from Garp, I decided to press my advantage. Time to win over the rest of this chaotic, dysfunctional, and heavily armed household.
Garp was still parading me around like a newly discovered treasure. I wriggled slightly, pointing a chubby finger towards Dadan, who was still trying to process what had just happened.
"Daa… Dada… Kaa!" I managed, a gurgly approximation of "Okaa-san" (Mother), or at least, what I hoped sounded like "Mama Dadan." It probably sounded more like a duck with a mouthful of marbles.
If Garp's reaction was explosive, Dadan's was… implosive. She froze. Her face, which had been slowly regaining its normal, formidable scowl, went completely blank. Then, a slow, creeping flush, darker this time, spread from her neck all the way up to the roots of her fiery orange hair. She looked like she'd been simultaneously complimented and slapped with a wet fish. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out.
"SHE… SHE CALLED THE BOSS… 'KAA'?!" Dogra shrieked, pointing dramatically.
Magra stared, his mouth agape. "Boss… are you… blushing?"
"SH-SHUT UP, YOU IDIOTS!" Dadan finally roared, though her voice lacked its usual terrifying conviction. She swatted vaguely in their direction, her face now a fascinating shade of mottled crimson. She wouldn't meet my eyes, instead glaring fiercely at a particularly uninteresting patch of dirt. But… there was a definite tremor in her hands.
Score! I thought, a tiny, triumphant smirk forming on my baby lips. One reluctant foster mother, successfully flustered!
I wasn't done yet. I pointed a wobbly finger at Dogra, then Magra, then at the other indistinct shapes I knew were Gordo, Scalzo, and Pip.
"Neee… Neee-yee!" I babbled, trying for "Nii-san" (older brother). It came out more like a sneeze combined with a hiccup.
The effect on the rank-and-file bandits was immediate. They puffed up their chests, grins splitting their rough faces.
"She called us 'Nii-yee'!" Gordo bellowed proudly. "Hear that, lads? We're her big brothers!"
"We'll protect ya, little Ann-chan!" Scalzo declared, thumping his chest with a fist that was probably covered in boar guts. Pip just nodded vigorously, his eyes shining with a mixture of fear and fierce, newfound loyalty.
Dogra and Magra looked like they might actually cry with happiness. "Our little sister!" Dogra sniffled, wiping his long nose on his sleeve.
Finally, my gaze, and my pointing finger, found Minerva. She was watching me with that calm, knowing half-smile, her head tilted slightly. This one would be harder to fluster. But I had to try.
"Mi… Mi-Ne!" I chirped, aiming for "Nee-san" (older sister), but with a distinctly baby-fied pronunciation.
Minerva's smile widened, just a fraction, but it reached her eyes this time, making them sparkle with a genuine, if fleeting, warmth. She gave a graceful little nod. "A pleasure to be acknowledged, Ann-sama," she said, her voice like wind chimes.
Sama? My baby brain blinked. She called me 'Ann-sama'? That's… a bit formal for a one-year-old. And a bit unsettling, coming from someone who looks like she could snap my neck with her pinky finger without smudging her lipstick. Still, progress!
Garp, meanwhile, was beside himself with joy, practically vibrating with grandfatherly pride. "GAHAHAHAHA! SHE'S A GENIUS! A SOCIAL BUTTERFLY! SHE'S GOT THE WHOLE DAMN MOUNTAIN WRAPPED AROUND HER LITTLE FINGER ALREADY! THAT'S MY GRANDDAUGHTER FOR YA!" He finally set me down gently on my patch of furs, still beaming like the sun. He then unwrapped his gift with a flourish. It was a small, brightly painted wooden bird, with wings that flapped when you pulled a string. Crude, but clearly made with… effort. For Garp, that was saying something.
The "feast" that followed was as chaotic and raucous as one would expect from a band of mountain bandits celebrating a one-year-old's birthday with the Hero of the Marines as an uninvited (but clearly not unwelcome, at least by some) guest. The boar was roasted over a massive bonfire, its skin crackling, the air thick with the smell of woodsmoke and sizzling fat. Dadan, despite her earlier fluster, quickly reassumed her role as the bellowing, begrudging matriarch, making sure everyone got a share (and that Garp didn't eat all of it, though he certainly tried). Dogra and Magra kept sneaking me surprisingly tender (if still slightly smoky) morsels of meat, which I gummed enthusiastically. Minerva, with an air of serene detachment, somehow managed to produce a small, perfectly ripe forest berry for me, which tasted like sunshine and wild honey.
Garp, of course, dominated the proceedings, recounting loud, improbable tales of his Marine exploits (mostly involving him punching very large things), consuming enough roasted boar to feed a small village, and occasionally attempting to get me to say "Oji-chan" again, much to Dadan's visible annoyance.
It was loud. It was messy. It was utterly, overwhelmingly, bizarrely… happy. For a few fleeting hours, the shadow of the World Government, the weight of my hidden lineage, even the mystery of Minerva's presence, seemed to recede. I was just Ann, the one-year-old birthday girl, surrounded by a bizarre, makeshift family who, in their own rough-and-tumble way, seemed to genuinely… care. It was a strange, warm feeling, like a forgotten ember glowing to life in my chest.
The sun had long since passed its zenith, casting long, cool shadows across the mountain clearing when the last of the boar bones had been gnawed clean and the bandits were sprawled around, groaning contentedly, in various states of food-induced stupor. Even Garp seemed to be slightly subdued, leaning against a large rock, a satisfied, sleepy expression on his face. It was probably around three in the afternoon, the air still warm but with a hint of the approaching evening chill.
I was, once again, attempting to master the art of pebble-ingestion, a skill that Dadan seemed determined to prevent me from perfecting. Minerva was sitting nearby, elegantly sipping water from a wooden cup, her purple hair gleaming in the dappled sunlight. She looked as pristine and unruffled as if she'd just stepped out of a tea ceremony, not a chaotic bandit feast.
Suddenly, Garp, with an abruptness that suggested his nap was over, pushed himself to his feet, a new, predatory gleam in his eye. He stretched, his massive frame cracking like old timber.
"Alright, that was a good feed!" he boomed, his voice startling a few dozing bandits awake. He then turned his attention, and a grin that was far too wide and far too eager, towards Minerva. "MINERVA-CHAN!"
Minerva looked up, her expression unreadable, her dark eyes meeting his.
"How about a little after-dinner exercise, eh?" Garp continued, cracking his knuckles with a sound like gunshots. "Let's SPAR!"
Wait… WHAAAAAAH?!?! My baby brain screeched to a halt, pebble forgotten halfway to my mouth. Garp wants to spar with MINERVA?! Minerva Orland from Fairy Tail, mistress of Territory Magic, a woman who casually brutalized people for fun in her original universe?! Against Monkey D. Garp, the Marine Hero, a man who throws cannonballs like baseballs and considers 'Haki' a light workout?! Is he insane?! Is SHE insane?! Am I about to witness the utter annihilation of this entire mountainside?! My internal alarm bells weren't just ringing; they were screaming a five-alarm fire klaxon.
Minerva didn't even blink. She set her cup down with a delicate click. "A spar, Vice-Admiral-san?" she inquired, her voice still a model of calm politeness, though I thought I detected a faint, almost imperceptible tightening around her eyes.
"Yeah! A spar!" Garp grinned, already bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overgrown kid itching for a fight. "Come on! It'll be fun! Besides," his grin widened, taking on a slightly more serious, almost pleading edge, "I gotta keep trying to convince ya! Hey, Minerva-chan, you should be a Marine! Seriously! Youngsters with your kind of… talent… you're the future of the Navy! We need people like you!"
Minerva rose gracefully to her feet, her movements fluid and economical. She smoothed down her elegant cheongsam-style dress, a gesture that seemed utterly incongruous with the impending clash of titans. "Vice-Admiral-san," she said, her voice still calm but now laced with a familiar, weary patience, "I believe I have told you, on approximately one million previous occasions, that I have no intention of joining the Navy. Or any other rigidly structured, ideologically driven organization, for that matter."
Garp deflated slightly, pouting like a child denied a new toy. "Aww, come on! Don't be like that! It's a waste of your time, hiding out up here with these… uh… these fine, upstanding mountain folk!" He gestured vaguely at the Dadan family, who were now watching the exchange with wide, fascinated eyes. "Your strength! Your… your unique abilities! They should be used to save lives! To uphold Justice! Not… not just for scaring off bigger boars!"
Minerva tilted her head, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. "My definition of 'saving lives' and 'upholding justice' may differ somewhat from the World Government's, Vice-Admiral-san. And as for my 'unique abilities'…" Her smile widened, becoming a fraction less serene and a fraction more… predatory. "Perhaps a demonstration is indeed in order. If only to remind you of the futility of your recruitment efforts."
"GAHAHAHAHA! That's the spirit!" Garp roared, his enthusiasm instantly rekindled. He took a few steps back, creating a small, clear space between them. The air crackled with anticipation. The dozing bandits were now wide awake, scrambling to their feet, their eyes gleaming with excitement. Even Dadan looked intrigued, though she also had the deeply worried expression of someone who knew her property values were about to plummet.
Oh, this is actually happening, I thought, my tiny heart hammering against my ribs. Garp versus Minerva. This is going to be… educational. And probably very, very loud. And I really hope my Frieza-race resilience includes immunity to collateral damage.
The bandits, sensing an epic clash, began to whoop and holler, their earlier food coma completely forgotten.
"YEAH! GO MINERVA-SAMA!" Magra yelled, pumping his fist in the air.
"SHOW THE OLD MARINE FART WHAT REAL POWER LOOKS LIKE, VICE-BOSS!" Gordo bellowed, his voice cracking with excitement.
Vice-Boss? My internal database flagged that. So, Minerva isn't just 'Onee-san' to Dadan; she holds a position of authority within the Dadan Family hierarchy. Second in command, perhaps? That makes her presence even more intriguing… and potentially more dangerous.
"KICK HIS WRINKLY OLD BUTT, MINERVA-NEECHAN!" Pip, the usually timid bandit, shrieked, caught up in the infectious excitement.
Dogra, ever the pragmatist, leaned towards Dadan, who was watching the unfolding scene with a mixture of apprehension and grudging pride. "Boss… your… uh… your little sister… she's actually going to fight Vice-Admiral Garp? Is that… wise?"
Dadan snorted, folding her arms across her massive chest. "Wise? Probably not. But when has Minerva ever done the 'wise' thing when a good fight is on offer? Besides," a fierce, almost feral grin spread across her face, "it's about time someone knocked some of the damn smirk off that old bastard's face. GO MINERVA! DESTROY HIM! BWAHAHAHAHA!"
The battle lines were drawn. The audience was hyped. Garp stood, grinning like a loon, his fists clenched, radiating an aura of raw, untamed power that seemed to make the very air around him vibrate. Minerva faced him, calm and composed, her slim figure a stark contrast to Garp's overwhelming bulk, yet exuding an entirely different kind of pressure – a focused, icy intensity that hinted at a terrifying, coiled strength.
The mountain wind rustled the leaves in the trees, a hushed whisper before the storm.
"Ready when you are, Minerva-chan!" Garp boomed, cracking his neck.
Minerva simply inclined her head, a silent affirmation. Her dark eyes narrowed, and for the first time since I'd met her, the serene mask slipped, revealing a flash of something fierce, something eager, something that promised a spectacle of beautiful, terrifying destruction.
The spar was about to begin. And I had a front-row seat to a clash that could very well reshape the entire mountain. My first birthday was turning out to be far more eventful than I could have ever anticipated.