Three days had passed. The heavy stench of blood that once clung to the coastline of Foosha Village was finally being washed away by the crashing waves and the salty sea breeze.
The Near Sea King's terrifying corpse was gradually carried off by the tides—swept away, broken down, and erased—leaving only faint, stubborn red stains within the reef cracks and the lingering metallic tang in the air. They were constant reminders of that afternoon when fate itself had been altered.
Garp was in no rush to leave. Beside Makino's tavern, he found an empty seaside house. That became his and his grandson's temporary base.
For these three days, he watched little Luffy as closely as if his eyes were made of seastone. It was as if the boy might vanish in the blink of an eye, or worse, be dragged back into the sea by some monster.
Katsuo (inside Luffy's body) spent most of his time sitting silently upon the familiar large reef by the shore, facing the ocean like a motionless statue.
His soaked clothes had long been replaced. The cuts across his body from the jagged reef had scabbed over thanks to the crude treatment of a bandit doctor. But the turmoil in his spirit had not settled.
He stared quietly at his right hand. The same hand that only days ago was drenched in the filthy blood of a beast was now as clean as any child's.
Only he knew that deep in his palm, an invisible mark remained—the heavy, cold, razor-sharp resonance from the Zanpakutō (Zangetsu). It had never truly left. It only slumbered, echoing faintly after its overwhelming eruption.
Every crash of the waves against the reef seemed to resonate with that same pulsing energy.
"Zangetsu…" Katsuo whispered within. In the face of certain death, it had become his final lifeline, unleashing a power that could rend reality itself.
But what was this power, truly?
Was it a blessing, or another cage—one woven by something greater called "fate"? The aftershock of that strike still throbbed, a hollow ache as though a piece of his very soul had been gouged away. This blade from the shinigami—was it salvation… or a curse?
His hand unconsciously brushed his forehead where Garp's stubble had scraped it red.
That rough but boiling, magma-hot affection and expectation pressed heavily on his heart.
Navy.
The word spun in his head, bringing with it steel, gunpowder, order—and memories of magma-coated fists, the screams of Impel Down, the crushing despair of the Marineford War.
Garp's intentions were clear. He wanted to take this terrifyingly gifted grandson back to Marine Headquarters, to raise him as the next unstoppable spearhead of justice.
The power of Zangetsu seemed to fit perfectly with the Navy's system. An overwhelming personal strength, backed by the organization's might, could suppress any so-called "evil" upon the seas. The path was clear, powerful, aligned with Garp's hopes. It even offered the possibility of "changing" something.
But… was that Luffy's dream?
Katsuo closed his eyes. Luffy's burning memories surged uncontrollably. Shanks, and the Straw Hat symbolizing freedom and adventure. The vow shouted to Ace from behind the Foosha barrels: "I'll become the Pirate King!" Those moments, alive and blazing, hammered against his soul.
Ace's warm smile. Sabo's resolute face. Both of them, somewhere out there on the seas, waiting for their shared promise.
If he joined the Navy, then in the future Marineford War… would those magma fists pierce through his sworn brother's body?
The thought clenched his chest. A chill shot down his spine.
The sea breeze brushed across his face, carrying with it the creak of the windmill, the laughter of Foosha's children, and the calls of villagers mending their fishing nets.
This golden, sunlit harbor was where Luffy grew up.
If he followed Garp, this warmth would fade from his reach. He would step instead into a world of rules, discipline, and power struggles—a cold maelstrom where even "justice" might demand blindness, or worse, complicity.
Would he choose to inherit Luffy's will—freedom, adventure, chasing that Straw Hat, even if it meant Ace's execution platform and Sabo's death?
Or embrace Zangetsu's power, leverage Garp's identity, and merge into the Navy's war machine—to pry, to change, to redefine "justice" itself through force?
It was no easy decision.
While Katsuo struggled within, thoughts colliding like a boat in a storm, a thunderous voice exploded from behind him:
"Oi! Little Luffy! Had enough sun yet?"
Katsuo's body stiffened slightly. His eyes opened slowly, but he didn't turn. He didn't need to. He knew it was Garp. The old man had been lurking nearby for days, smoking, eyes sharp as an eagle's, burning with excitement and plans.
Garp strode onto the reef, heavy footsteps grinding stone.
Today he wore no dog-head cloak. Just a loose Marine white shirt stretched over arms thick and powerful as coiled dragons. Explosive strength rippled under his skin.
He stopped at Katsuo's side, gaze sweeping the calm ocean. The beast's carcass was gone. Only the blue sky remained mirrored in the sea.
"You brat, staring at the ocean these past two days!" Garp's voice was still booming, but calmer than before, tinged with gravity. "Still reliving that swing?"
His massive hand slammed onto Katsuo's small shoulder. "Hmph! That little scrap is nothing worth brooding over! The East Blue is just a small pond! It can never raise a true dragon!"
His eyes blazed suddenly, like fire made solid, drilling into Katsuo. "Think about it! Marineford! The largest harbor! The strongest battleships! The world's finest talents gathered in one place!"
(End of Chapter)
[50 Power Stones = 1 Extra Chapter]
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