Mirror Ball Island pulsed with its relentless, joyful energy. The Little Dream rested peacefully in a private berth near the vibrant Rhythm & Roll hotel, a sleek Adam's Wood vessel amidst the island's neon chaos. Stanlee, now a solidly built sixteen-year-old, stepped onto the dock beside Rita. The relief radiating from her was palpable as she clutched his arm, tears welling at the sight of her home.
The reunion with Marco and little Leo was as emotional as before. Later, in the family apartment, Marco expressed his profound gratitude. "We owe you everything, Stanlee. Rita told me... everything. How can we repay you?"
"No repayment needed," Stanlee insisted. "But Rita and I made a deal. She teaches me to cook. I stay out of trouble while I learn."
Marco managed a tired smile. "Cook? You? Rita says your attempts could curdle milk at fifty paces." Rita chuckled emphatically.
"Exactly," Stanlee grinned. "Hence the deal. Ready when you are, Rita."
The Crucible of the Kitchen: Seven Months of Sweat and Sauces
Rita proved to be a culinary tyrant. The hotel's industrial kitchen became Stanlee's new dojo, replacing mountains with stockpots and jungles with spice racks.
"Again!" Rita's voice would crack like a whip. "Uniformity! Precision! Not chunks! Dice! A cook's knife is an extension of their will! Show me your will, Stanlee!"
Sweat poured as he focused, Observation Haki straining to feel minute variations in texture. His powerful hands, capable of crushing rock, learned the delicate art of the brunoise. Sauces were disasters at first – broken emulsions, scorched roux.
"Taste it!" Rita commanded. "What's missing? Salt? Acid? Heat? Feel it! Don't just eat! Understand it!"
Slowly, painstakingly, progress came. His Observation Haki found new application: sensing pan temperatures, the exact moment a steak reached medium-rare by sizzle and aroma, the precise second sugar caramelized. His stamina allowed tireless work – prepping mountains of vegetables, stirring sauces for hours, manning multiple stations during festival rushes.
His strength found uses: hauling stockpots, kneading enormous dough batches in minutes. Wind control stoked fires perfectly or cooled pastries.
By month three, he executed the hotel's menu reliably. By month five, Rita allowed experimentation. By month seven, Stanlee D. Gaimon could cook. Not just competently, but well. His dishes had depth, balance, and creativity. He couldn't match Rita's lifetime mastery, but his food was consistently delicious, technically sound, and packed with flavor. He could butcher a whole pig, make fresh pasta, bake delicate pastries, and craft complex sauces. The "burnt regrets" phase was a distant memory.
The Unseen Eyes: Marine Surveillance
Marineford's watch was discreet but constant. A small Marine cutter hovered over the horizon. Plainclothes observers on the island noted his routine: kitchen work, market visits, afternoons training Marco in basic fitness and Haki awareness, evenings helping with hotel service or practicing cooking.
Their reports were consistent:
"Subject intensely focused on culinary arts. No hostile actions.""Subject trains local hotelier (Marco) in basic Haki – Observation focus, rudimentary Armament. Marco shows slow progress.""Subject interacts positively. Children drawn to him. No predatory behavior.""Subject's cooking skills improve dramatically. Capable of managing high-volume, high-quality service. No further 'burnt offerings'."
Stanlee felt their distant auras with Haki, saw occasional binocular glints. They kept their distance, made no move to interfere. He didn't mind. It was a small price for freedom to learn and live.
The Fist of Love Arrives
Three months in, during festival prep, Marco burst into the kitchen, pale. "Stanlee! Someone's here to see you. Says he's... family?"
Before Stanlee could respond, a booming voice shook the lobby: "OI! STANLEE D. GAIMON! GET YOUR FEATHERY BUTT OUT HERE! OLD MAN GRANDPA WANTS TO MEET YA!"
Stanlee froze, dough dripping from his hands. Garp. He wiped his hands, grinning, and walked out.
There stood Monkey D. Garp, Hero of the Marines, utterly out of place. Marine coat, shorts, sandals, giant travel pack, munching a rice cracker. Uncomfortable plainclothes Marines lingered nearby.
"Vice Admiral Iron Fist Garp," Stanlee greeted, bowing slightly. "To what do I owe the... pleasure?"
"Pleasure? Hah!" Garp bellowed, clapping Stanlee's shoulder – a blow that would shatter concrete, but Stanlee barely budged. "Heard you gave my boy Smokey a good thumpin'! Good! Shows you got the right stuff!" He sniffed the air. "Smells good! You cookin'?"
"Learning," Stanlee replied. "Rita's teaching me. Want something to eat?"
"Always!" Garp declared.
Rita quickly arranged a feast in a private room. Garp devoured everything, praising Stanlee's cooking loudly. "Not bad! Better than Marine slop! You keep this up, you might make a decent Marine chef!"
Stanlee chuckled. "Somehow, Vice Admiral Garp, I don't think the Marines are in my future."
Garp leaned back, sighing dramatically. "Eh? Why not? Strong kid like you! Sense of justice! You'd make a fine Admiral! Way better than that lazy ice popsicle Kuzan!" He took a huge bite of food, chewing thoughtfully. "Though... seems trouble follows my family lately. My older grandson, Ace? Headstrong boy. Turned eighteen and just took off to sea a year back, chasing his own path like his father." He swallowed, a mix of pride and frustration on his face. "And now the younger one, Luffy... just turned fifteen. That rubber-headed fool does nothing but blab about being King of the Pirates all day! Drives me nuts! Pirates, pirates, pirates!" He shook his head, then grinned at Stanlee. "So? What about you, kid? You got the strength. You got the heart. Why not join the Marines? Be a hero within the law?"
Stanlee shook his head, expression serious. "I respect true Marines like Smoker. Or you, Vice Admiral Garp. But my path isn't about enforcing laws written by corrupt World Nobles. It's about living free, and helping others do the same. No flag but my own. No master but my will. I'm not a pirate. I'm not a Marine. I'm just... Stanlee D. Gaimon. The Freest Traveler."
Garp studied him, appraising. He saw conviction, unwavering resolve. He nodded slowly. "Freest Traveler, huh? Sounds like a lot of work. And a lot of trouble." He stood up, cracking his knuckles. "Enough talk! You say you're strong? Prove it! Show me what you've got, kid! Let's see if that skin of yours is as tough as Smoker says!"
The Day and Night of Immovable Objects & Haki's Secrets
They moved to a secluded, rocky outcrop. Marine observers watched frantically through binoculars: "Subject and Vice Admiral Garp engaged in combat on western bluffs!"
What followed was seismic. Garp moved with shocking speed, fists wrapped in dense Haki. He threw everything – Galaxy Impact, cannonball punches, devastating shockwaves.
Stanlee met it all. He didn't transform. He relied on innate toughness, Haki mastery, and endurance. Armament Haki coated his body, harder than diamond. He met Garp's fists head-on, impacts sounding like colliding warships, cracking ground, churning seas.
He moved with grace, using Observation Haki to predict Garp's movements, flowing around blows, countering with precise, Haki-coated strikes that made even Garp grunt. He used the environment – kicking up rocks, using wind subtly.
Hours passed. Sun climbed, then set. They fought across bluffs, through surf, onto a small island. Garp laughed uproariously. Stanlee remained focused, a faint smile on his face, pushing his limits against a legend.
Night fell. They fought under moon and stars, forms blurring, punctuated by thunderous impacts. Garp unleashed his signature colossal Haki fist. Stanlee braced, channeling every ounce of Armament Haki into defense. The fist connected.
The explosion leveled a small hill, sent a tidal wave crashing outwards, lit up the night. When dust settled, Stanlee stood unmoved in the crater, Haki flaring. Garp stood back, shaking his hand and grinning. "Tough! Real tough! And you got pop in those punches! Felt that!"
Dawn broke. They continued, intensity shifting to grueling exchange of techniques and endurance. Garp breathed heavily, sweat pouring, but grinned. Stanlee showed no fatigue beyond light sweat. Not a scratch marred his skin.
Finally, as sun climbed higher, Garp threw his head back and laughed. "Alright! Truce! You win, kid! Or nobody wins! Damn, that was fun!" He clapped Stanlee's shoulder. "You're the real deal! Skin like a Sea King's hide, Haki like an Admiral's, stamina that won't quit! You live up to the 'D'!"
Stanlee smiled tiredly. "You're not so bad yourself... old man Garp."
Garp chuckled, wiping sweat. "Old man, eh? Getting there, kid, getting there." His expression turned thoughtful, then serious. "Listen... about those grandsons. Ace, the one who sailed? He's a good boy, stubborn, but his heart's right. Luffy... the one who wants to be King? Dumb as rocks, stubborn as a mule, but his heart's pure fire. That drive for freedom..." He looked at Stanlee intently. "They're gonna make waves. Big waves. The world'll try to crush 'em. If... if our paths cross out there... if you see 'em... look out for 'em? Not fight their battles! They need to do that! But... if they're in real trouble, and you're there... just... give 'em a hand? An old man's request?"
Stanlee met his gaze. He saw genuine concern, grandfatherly love. He remembered their futures. "I'll tell you what I told Smoker, old man," Stanlee said firmly. "I won't interfere in their journeys. Their dreams are their own. But... if they cross my path, and they're in danger because they're protecting freedom or standing against true injustice... then yeah. I'll step in. If they harm the innocent or destroy freedom... then I'll take care of them. That's a promise."
Garp studied him, then nodded, satisfied. "Good enough for me! That's the spirit!" He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now, before I go... let me show you a couple of things. You've got the raw power, kid, but your Haki's still a bit... crude. Watch closely."
For the next hour, Garp became a teacher. He picked up a small, dense rock from the beach. "Haki Infusion. Not just coating your skin, but pushing it into something else. Makes it stronger, sharper, harder to break." Garp focused, and a faint black sheen flowed from his fist into the rock. He then casually tossed it against a larger boulder. The infused rock didn't just chip the boulder; it punched a clean hole straight through it, shattering the back side. "See? Focus your will, push it in. Try it."
Stanlee picked up a similar rock. He focused, channeling his Armament Haki not just around his hand, but into the rock. It felt different, more demanding. He hurled it. It struck a boulder and embedded itself halfway in, cracking the surrounding stone deeply. Not as clean as Garp's, but significant progress.
"Good!" Garp boomed. "Now, Internal Destruction. Trickier. This ain't about brute force. It's about vibration. Sending tiny, focused shockwaves inside something to break it apart from within." He placed his palm flat on another large boulder. "Watch." He closed his eyes. A low hum filled the air. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, spiderweb cracks erupted across the boulder's surface, and with a soft crump, it collapsed into a pile of gravel and dust. "You gotta feel the inside, kid. Send your Haki vibrating inside, find the weak points, and shake it apart. Try."
Stanlee placed his hand on a similar boulder. He closed his eyes, focusing his Haki, trying to project it inwards, to make it vibrate. He felt resistance, the stone's density fighting him. He pushed harder, focusing on the concept of vibration, of internal disruption. A faint tremor ran through the boulder. A few cracks appeared on the surface. He pushed more, sweat beading on his brow. With a sharp crack, a large section split off the boulder, falling to the beach. Not total destruction, but a clear demonstration of the principle.
Garp nodded approvingly. "Not bad for a first try! Takes years to master, but you've got the knack. Remember: Infusion for your weapons, your ship. Internal Destruction for when you need to be subtle... or take down something big from the inside out. Practice." He shouldered his pack. "Alright, kid, gotta get back. Paperwork waits for no man!" He grinned. "Keep cooking! Keep sailing free! And remember what I said about my grandsons! Ace and Monkey D. Luffy! Don't forget 'em!"
With a final wave and a booming laugh, Garp launched himself into the air with Geppou, heading towards the waiting Marine vessel.
Stanlee stood on the bluffs, watching him go. He was tired, deeply bruised within, but exhilarated. He'd tested himself against a legend, stood unbroken, and learned advanced Haki techniques. He had names now: Ace and Luffy. A promise made. The Freest Traveler's path was growing more complex, more connected. He turned and walked back towards the Rhythm & Roll, towards the kitchen, towards the next stage of his journey. The rhythm of the island called, but the vast, open sea called louder. His time on Mirror Ball Island was drawing to a close.