Inside Garp's cabin on the warship.
On the table by the window sat two Den Den Mushi—one ordinary pinkish-white, the other plump and milky-white, both wearing little navy hats on their heads.
Moses sat on the sofa, feeding these snail-like creatures with leafy greens.
Although the Blessing of Taming still hadn't fully manifested for Moses, he was confident in raising these little creatures. It didn't require much skill.
Buru buru buru buru—
Suddenly, the pink-white Den Den Mushi activated, its mouth opening as it rang. Moses turned to look at Garp, who was taking an afternoon nap on the bed.
"Gran—"
Before he could finish the word, Garp had already rolled out of bed, yawning as he walked over to answer.
Click!
There was no telling who was on the other end—likely disguised, preventing the Den Den Mushi from mimicking their appearance. Garp's eyes narrowed in irritation as he picked up.
"Yo, this is Garp. Who's this? I'm on leave right now, so don't bother me with anything. Can't even let a man sleep at noon."
After a few seconds of silence, veins bulged on Garp's forehead. "I'll count to three. If you don't speak, I'm hanging up. Three."
"Tch." Garp had no patience for time-wasters like this. Just as he was about to hang up, a familiar voice came through:
"Hearing you sound so energetic puts my mind at ease, old man."
Garp's eyes flicked imperceptibly to the white Den Den Mushi—the Eavesdropping Prevention Den Den Mushi. Its function was exactly as the name suggested.
Recognizing the voice, Garp's expression darkened. After a few seconds, his face twisted into annoyance.
"Spit it out if you've got something to say. Don't forget what you are now."
Another pause on the other end.
"Old man... I have a son. You have a grandson now. You know my situation—I can't take care of him properly. You raise him."
Garp's eyes nearly popped out of his head, his jaw dropping. After several stunned seconds, his lips trembled as he managed:
"R-really? My grandson? You little brat, you're not lying to me, are you? Since when did any woman ever like you? Who'd be blind enough?"
The voice on the other end grew strained, as if suppressing anger. "Just give me a straight answer—do you want him or not? If not, I swear you'll never lay eyes on him in your lifetime."
Garp clicked his tongue. "Time and place. Out with it. If he's my grandson, I won't let you ruin him."
"You know that island a day's sail from Water 7 toward Enies Lobby, near the Calm Belt? Meet me there in ten days. I'm hanging up."
Click!
Garp glared at the Den Den Mushi, gripping the receiver as he cursed, "That damn brat."
Turning, he looked at Moses, who had been quietly listening.
"Can you believe this guy? Can't even ask for a favor properly. If he weren't my son—and so damn good at hiding—I'd break his legs."
"In ten days, you'll see him. You can settle it then. If you want to break his legs, that'll be the perfect opportunity. Right, old man?"
"Ow—"
The moment he finished speaking, Moses clutched his head, tears welling up from the pain. It felt like his brain was rattling.
"Damn it, Gramps! Are you trying to kill me?!"
Garp let out a sinister chuckle. "Dory isn't here right now, so think carefully before you speak. What should you call me?"
Moses: "..."
"I was wrong, Grandpa. You're the best. I'm frail and wouldn't survive your beatings. You should save your energy for your son."
Moses knew better than to fight a losing battle and surrendered with remarkable speed.
Garp: "?"
After a two-second pause, he burst into roaring laughter.
"Pfft—HAHAHA! Moses, are you trying to kill me with laughter? You're frail? Do you take me for a fool? Your aura might be strange, but your physique is anything but childlike."
As he spoke, a glint of astonishment flashed in Garp's eyes. No wonder—this kid was indeed that man's offspring, even more of a monster than Ace had been at his age.
In terms of physical prowess, he was already stronger than that damned brat on the phone had been at this age. The thought made Garp narrow his eyes. "Moses, do you want to get stronger? If so, Grandpa can train you."
Moses studied Garp's expression and felt an unsettling chill. Something told him the old man had ulterior motives.
He shook his head vigorously.
"I'm frail. If I start training now, I might not handle it well."
"...Are you serious?" Garp's eye twitched. "Keep calling yourself frail, and I'll give you a full-body 'loosening' right here."
"On second thought, maybe I'm not as frail as I claimed. Doctorine has been adjusting my diet with medicinal meals all these years."
"Then you—ah, forget it. We'll revisit this in a couple of years. I got ahead of myself just now."
Moses muttered an "Oh" and quickly changed the subject. "Grandpa, that call earlier mentioned you have a grandson. Are you happy?"
"You little brat, aren't you my grandson? What kind of question is that?" Garp frowned and glared at Moses. "Listen well—you are my grandson, and that's an unchangeable fact. Don't ever speak in that tone again.
You're clever. I know you've realized we aren't blood-related, but remember this: you are my grandson."
Surprise flickered in Moses' eyes. "How did you know?"
"Tch. You and your brother are the same. Ace figured it out as soon as he could remember. He asked why he was Portgas D. Ace while I'm Monkey D. Garp. He asked about his birth parents, whether they were alive.
I didn't answer. I told him I'd explain when you arrived, so the kid's been looking forward to you even more.
But you're even more precocious than Ace. If he could spot it, I refuse to believe you didn't. Grandpa's curious—why have you never asked?"
Moses listened quietly to Garp's explanation. The reason, of course, was that he already knew everything—but he couldn't say that.
So instead:
"Life has been good to me, past and present. Knowing or not knowing changes nothing, so there was no need to ask. But since you said you'd tell us together, there's no point asking now. I'll find out when the time comes."
After speaking, Moses patted his cheeks and grinned at Garp. "Grandpa, let's drop the heavy stuff. Tell me how you're planning to deal with your son.
From what I heard, he's in some kind of trouble. You two had a falling out, and you're pretty pissed at him."
"Maybe I should go with you when the time comes. Hand me the grandson, and you can go beat up the son."
Garp nodded repeatedly, then gave Moses a strange look.
"You little brat, were you just trying to get one over on me? Take this!"
In the next moment, Garp's fist landed on Moses' head.
Moses dodged, even using Observation Haki, but even after creating distance, Garp's suddenly elongated arm still managed to punch him on the head.
Exhausted, Moses leaned back on the sofa with a reluctant expression, while Garp just laughed heartily.
Eating, sleeping, and beating up his grandson—this kind of life wasn't bad at all.
Good for both physical and mental health.
"Want some snacks? I'll have the ship's cook make some for you."
"A glass of apple juice, three pounds of roasted meat, a plate of fries, and some dried fruit."
Garp chuckled.
"Wishful thinking. I'd like those too, but no such luck. Only dried sweet potato slices. Take it or leave it."
Moses sighed.
"Fine, I'll take it."
Garp pulled out two packs of sweet potato slices from the bedside drawer, poured two cups of tea and water, and they each took a pack, sitting on the sofa as they ate and drank.
At one point, Garp stepped out briefly, and soon after, Moses noticed the warship had changed course, riding the ocean currents toward a different direction at high speed.
...
Days passed as they traveled, passing multiple islands. The warship docked at several bustling ports for supplies along the way.
A week later, under a clear blue sky.
The weather was perfect.
On the deck.
Moses straddled the wooden figurehead at the bow, watching with interest as the marines trained in pairs, sparring fiercely.
"Ha! Iron Body!"
"Finger Pistol!"
"Paper Drawing. Damn it, don't hit my face!"
"Moon Walk."
Thwack, splash.
Thud, thud, thud—whoosh, smack, smack.
The rhythmic sound of impacts, the heavy exchange of punches and kicks, the enthusiastic shouts—all under the blazing sun as sweat poured freely.
Deep in Moses' eyes, a crimson glow flickered as he observed through their clothes, sensing the movement of their blood, muscles, and bones.
For seven straight days,
Every time they began training, Moses would appear somewhere on the ship, watching their "performance" in his eyes.
Being just a kid—even if not a marine—no one bothered to shoo him away.
Of course, Moses knew this wasn't just because of the relaxed atmosphere on Garp's ship, but also because he called the man "Grandpa."
After all, the Six Styles—a unique, systematic training method for unlocking human potential—wasn't something taught to just anyone.
Only officers with certain ranks,
Or exceptionally talented recruits from the Marine Headquarters training camp, were eligible to learn it.
Self-taught exceptions aside.
Over these days, aside from Soru—a technique too difficult to practice on a ship—Moses had secretly mastered the remaining five styles.
Of the Six Styles,
Only Iron Body, Paper Drawing, and Moon Walk were truly worth learning. The other three were merely derivative techniques.
Though he had grasped the training methods in just a day, Moses didn't stop observing them immediately.
Instead, he continued studying their flaws,
Absorbing every crucial detail of their training.
At the top deck cabin, Garp and Bogart watched the marines below, naturally noticing Moses standing at the ship's bow.
Bogart chuckled, "Vice Admiral Garp, aren't you going to rein in your grandson? Others might not know, but we're aware he's been using Observation Haki to sense the Rokushiki training for a whole week now. He'll steal all the techniques at this rate."
Garp waved it off, "That brat learning Rokushiki? Don't overthink it. Mastering Rokushiki requires a solid Physique foundation first. Moses isn't ready yet."
"What about Paper Drawing then?" Bogart countered. "Paper Drawing doesn't particularly need strong Physique to support it. That kid already knows Observation Haki—who's to say he hasn't picked it up already?"
Garp's expression stiffened momentarily before he scoffed, "So what if he learned it? We didn't teach him. If he's clever enough to figure it out himself, are you suggesting we stop someone from being smart?"
Bogart stared at Garp with utter exasperation, feeling like he was casting pearls before swine. He was absolutely certain his unreliable superior was playing dumb.
"Tch, if you don't care, why should I? He's your grandson, not mine. If anything goes wrong, it's not my problem. Suit yourself!" Bogart stormed out of the room in a huff.
Watching Bogart leave angrily, Garp grinned before narrowing his eyes at Moses, who was openly "stealing" techniques in broad daylight. "If you've got the skills to learn it, why should I stop you? Take whatever you can—that's on you."
From time to time, Garp even stepped in personally to correct the marines' mistakes during training. The marines were so moved they cheered enthusiastically, their training fervor reaching new heights.
As evening approached, the warship docked at a secluded part of an island's port. Moses gazed at the brightly lit port city nearby, where the harbor was packed with all kinds of vessels—merchant ships, pirate ships, transport ships, and even luxurious tourist ships flying flags of other nations.
The air was thick with tantalizing aromas, and the distant city bustled with noise so lively that even on the warship, the clamor could be felt in waves.
"Gourmet City: Puji"—a culinary paradise on the Grand Line, a haven for chefs and a top tourist destination. However, its status as a food and tourism hotspot also made it a melting pot of various factions and interests.
On the deck, Bogart stood at the cabin entrance, clearing his throat as he addressed the marines lined up in two rows. "Ahem. We'll be docked here tonight. Vice Admiral Garp has granted you all a night off. Assemble back on the warship by 7 AM tomorrow. Those who want to visit Gourmet City can head out now—but change into civilian clothes first. And no disturbing the locals or breaking any laws. Dismissed!"
Cheers erupted from both marines and officers alike, their faces alight with excitement. With pockets full of wages and the promise of gourmet food and beautiful women from all over, they were eager to make the most of this opportunity.
From the second-floor cabin window, Moses observed the lively scene on the deck below before turning to Garp, who was already dressed in a floral shirt, patterned shorts, and flip-flops.
Moses had also changed his outfit, wearing a blue-gray short-sleeved shirt with a panda emblem on the chest, paired with black cropped pants and coffee-colored suede ankle boots.
A small shoulder bag hung diagonally across his body, bulging with contents.
At that moment, Garp—now fully dressed—picked his nose and stretched out his hand toward Moses.
Moses tilted his head in confusion before placing his left hand on Garp's.
But the next second, Garp smacked Moses' hand away in exasperation. "What are you thinking? I'm asking for pocket money, not holding your hand."
Moses' face darkened as he stared at Garp. After a few seconds, he muttered in annoyance,
"Grandpa, is this really appropriate? What kind of grandfather asks his grandson for money when going out?"
"Just say whether you'll give it or not. You can't possibly refuse me, right?" Garp snapped, flustered. "If I had money, would I be asking you?"
"You exchanged a small bag of gold nuggets for over a million Belly at that island's exchange office a few days ago. Did you think I wouldn't know?"
Moses gritted his teeth in frustration. "That big-mouthed Bogart—can't he keep anything to himself? Is it so easy for me to save up a little stash?"
With a huff, he pulled out a stack of Belly—roughly a hundred thousand—from his shoulder bag and slapped it into Garp's palm.
Instantly, Garp beamed, shaking the bills gleefully in his hand. "Good, good! You're definitely my best grandson—way better than that brat Dragon."
Ahem!
A cough sounded at the door. Bogart stood there, dressed in a refined purple suit with a flower pinned to his chest, looking rather flamboyant.
His eyes flickered with amusement as he watched the grandfather-grandson duo's antics. Covering his mouth with his right hand, his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
"Well, Vice Admiral Garp, we should get going now. Time to have some fun."