Jake didn't sleep the night before Garp's arrival.
He lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, mentally reviewing everything he knew about Monkey D. Garp from the manga and anime.
Fact One: Garp was absurdly, unreasonably strong. He could throw cannonballs like baseballs, punch through mountains, and had fought the Pirate King to a standstill multiple times.
Fact Two: Garp had a very... unique approach to training. His idea of "building character" involved things like throwing recruits into jungles full of dangerous beasts or tossing them off cliffs.
Fact Three: Garp was Luffy's grandfather, which meant he had a soft spot for people with potential but also a tendency to "toughen them up" in terrifying ways.
Fact Four: Despite being a Marine legend, Garp was actually pretty laid-back and often disregarded protocol when it suited him.
So basically, he's powerful enough to kill me by accident, crazy enough to think throwing me off a cliff is good training, and unpredictable enough that I can't plan for what he'll do.
Perfect. Just perfect.
"Jake, you're mumbling to yourself again," Marcus called from below.
"I'm processing anxiety."
"By listing ways Garp might kill us?"
"How did you—"
"You've been doing it for the past hour. So far I've heard 'crushed by cannonball,' 'punched into the ocean,' 'training accident involving sea kings,' and 'death by excessive enthusiasm.'"
Jake sighed. "Sorry. I'll process quietly."
"Just try to sleep. We need to be sharp tomorrow."
But sleep didn't come. When the wake-up bell rang at 4 AM, Jake felt like he'd been awake for days.
The morning drills were canceled. Instead, all recruits were ordered to assemble in full dress uniform on the main parade ground. The entire base staff was present—instructors, officers, support personnel, everyone.
"He must be really important," Davis muttered as they stood in formation.
"He's a Vice Admiral and a living legend," Marcus replied. "Of course he's important."
"I heard he once ate fifty Sea King steaks in one sitting," another recruit whispered.
"I heard he refuses to wear shirts because they can't contain his muscles," someone else added.
"I heard—"
"Quiet in the ranks!" Ripper barked.
They waited. The sun rose higher. Jake's dress uniform was starting to feel uncomfortably warm. He could feel sweat trickling down his back.
Maybe he won't show up. Maybe he got delayed. Maybe—
"BWAHAHAHA!"
The laugh echoed across the parade ground like thunder. Every recruit jumped. Some of the younger ones looked actively terrified.
A ship was pulling into the harbor—a standard Marine vessel, but the figure standing at the bow was anything but standard.
Monkey D. Garp was exactly as Jake remembered from the manga, but seeing him in person was different. He was massive, easily over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and arms that looked like they could bench-press a house. He wore a Marine coat draped over his shoulders like a cape, and his dog-eared hat sat at a jaunty angle on his head. Even from this distance, Jake could feel the sheer presence radiating from the man.
Oh no. Oh no, he's real. This is real. I'm going to die.
Garp leaped from the ship—not climbed down, not walked down a gangplank, leaped—and landed on the dock with an impact that Jake swore he felt through the ground. He strode toward the parade ground with the confident gait of someone who knew he was the strongest person in any room he entered.
"Vice Admiral Garp arriving!" someone announced unnecessarily.
The base commander, a Captain whose name Jake had never learned, stepped forward to greet Garp. They exchanged salutes and brief words that Jake couldn't hear from his position in the formation.
Then Garp turned to face the assembled recruits, and Jake felt the full weight of his gaze sweep across them.
"SO!" Garp bellowed, his voice carrying easily across the entire parade ground. "THESE ARE THE NEW RECRUITS?"
"Yes, sir!" Ripper responded. "Thirty-two recruits, four weeks into basic training!"
"ONLY FOUR WEEKS? BWAHAHAHA! THEY STILL LOOK SOFT!"
Several recruits shifted uncomfortably. Jake tried to make himself smaller, which was difficult when standing at attention in a formation.
"I LIKE TO VISIT THE TRAINING FACILITIES!" Garp continued, apparently incapable of speaking at a normal volume. "SEE WHAT KIND OF MARINES WE'RE PRODUCING! MAKE SURE YOU'RE NOT GOING SOFT IN EAST BLUE!"
He began walking down the formation lines, inspecting recruits. Jake watched from the corner of his eye as Garp stopped occasionally to comment.
"YOU! Too skinny! Eat more meat!"
"YOU! Good stance! Keep it up!"
"YOU! Stop shaking! I haven't even done anything yet!"
Garp was getting closer to Jake's position. Jake focused on his breathing, trying to remain calm.
Don't stand out. Don't do anything memorable. Just be another face in the crowd.
Garp stopped directly in front of their group—the four advanced combat recruits. Jake felt his heart trying to escape through his ribcage.
"SO! Commander Ripper tells me you four are the best fighters in this batch!" Garp examined each of them in turn. "Let's see... You!" He pointed at Jenkins. "You've got the look of a brawler! Good! Marines need brawlers!"
Jenkins beamed with pride.
"You!" He pointed at Davis. "Strong foundation! I can see you've been training hard!"
Davis stood even straighter.
"You!" He pointed at Marcus. "I like your eyes! You've got determination! That's good!"
Marcus looked like he might pass out from excitement.
Then Garp turned to Jake.
Please don't notice me. Please don't notice me. Please don't—
"And you must be Morrison!"
Damn it.
"Yes, sir!" Jake managed to say without his voice cracking.
Garp leaned in close, studying Jake's face. Jake could smell sea salt and what he was pretty sure was rice crackers. Those eyes—sharp despite their seemingly carefree appearance—examined him with an intensity that made Jake feel like his soul was being X-rayed.
"Hmm," Garp said. "You don't look like much."
"No, sir. I'm not, sir."
"But Kawa says you're a natural navigator. Says you understand celestial navigation better than recruits twice your age."
"I just pay attention, sir."
"And Ripper says you read more regulation manuals than anyone he's ever seen."
"Information is important, sir."
"And Sato—the librarian—says you've been studying supply chain logistics in your free time."
Sato, I'm going to kill you. Why did you tell him that?
"I believe in being well-rounded, sir."
Garp straightened up, still staring at Jake. Then, without warning, he laughed—that booming "BWAHAHAHA" that seemed to be his trademark.
"I LIKE YOU, KID! You're smart enough to know your limits but dumb enough to try to overcome them anyway! That's the kind of Marine we need!"
That's not—I'm not trying to overcome anything. I'm trying to survive.
"Tell me, Morrison," Garp said, his voice dropping to something closer to normal volume (though still loud by any reasonable standard). "Why did you join the Marines?"
It was the question Jake had been dreading. He'd given Marcus a vague answer. He'd told the recruitment officer what they wanted to hear. But something about Garp's gaze made lying feel impossible.
"Honestly, sir? I didn't have much choice. It was this or something worse."
"BWAHAHAHA! At least you're honest! Most recruits give me some nonsense about justice and protecting people!" Garp clapped Jake on the shoulder—gently, by his standards, but Jake still felt his knees buckle slightly. "But you know what? The best Marines are the ones who are honest about why they're here! The ones who admit they're scared but do the job anyway!"
"I'm very scared, sir."
"GOOD! Fear keeps you alive! Overconfidence gets you killed!" Garp turned to address all the recruits. "Listen up! I'm going to be here for three days! In that time, I'm going to show you what REAL Marine training looks like! And if you survive..." He grinned in a way that was probably meant to be encouraging but actually looked slightly terrifying. "...you'll be better Marines for it!"
Survive. He said survive. That's not encouraging. That's the opposite of encouraging.
"Commander Ripper! Where's your training ground?"
"This way, sir!"
As the formation began to move, Marcus leaned toward Jake and whispered, "He likes you! That's amazing!"
"That's horrifying. He's going to 'toughen me up' or something equally traumatic."
"Think positive!"
"I'm thinking survival."
The training ground was a large open area with various equipment—training dummies, weights, obstacle course elements. Garp stood in the center, cracking his knuckles.
"Alright! First lesson! Combat assessment! I want to see what you've learned!" He pointed at the four advanced recruits. "You four! Attack me!"
There was a moment of stunned silence.
"Sir?" Jenkins asked carefully. "Did you say attack you?"
"That's what I said! All four of you! At once! Don't hold back!"
"But sir," Davis protested, "you're a Vice Admiral—"
"And you're Marines in training! In a real battle, you might face opponents stronger than you! You need to learn to work together!" Garp settled into a relaxed stance. "Come on! What are you waiting for?"
Marcus looked at Jake. Jake looked at Jenkins. Jenkins looked at Davis. Davis looked terrified.
"This is insane," Jake muttered.
"This is Garp," Marcus replied. "Alright, we need a strategy. Jake, what do you think?"
I think we're all going to die.
"He's testing coordination, not power," Jake said quietly, his mind racing. "We can't hurt him—that's impossible. But we can show we can work together. Marcus, you're fastest. Feints and distractions. Jenkins, you're strongest. Try to create openings. Davis, support. I'll... I'll try not to die and maybe spot weaknesses."
"That's a terrible plan," Jenkins said.
"You have a better one?"
"No."
"Then let's not die together."
They spread out, encircling Garp. The Vice Admiral watched with amusement, making no move to defend himself.
Marcus moved first, darting in with a quick jab. Garp leaned slightly, and the punch missed by inches. Jenkins followed up with a heavy strike. Garp caught it one-handed without even looking, then gently pushed Jenkins back.
"Too slow! Too predictable!"
Davis tried a low sweep. Garp hopped over it like he was skipping rope.
Jake hung back, watching. Garp wasn't even trying. He was treating this like a game, easily countering everything they threw at him without breaking a sweat.
We can't beat him. Obviously. But what's he actually looking for?
Then Jake noticed something. Every time they attacked individually, Garp countered easily. But when two of them attacked simultaneously from different angles, he had to actually pay attention, even if only slightly.
"Together!" Jake called out. "Coordinate!"
Marcus and Jenkins attacked from opposite sides. Garp had to actually move this time, stepping between them and deflecting both strikes. It still looked effortless, but it was more than he'd done before.
"Better!" Garp laughed.
They tried again, this time with all four attacking in sequence—fast enough that Garp had to keep moving, slow enough that they didn't get in each other's way.
Garp was actually smiling now. "NOW you're thinking like Marines! Combat isn't about individual strength! It's about teamwork!"
He still blocked everything easily, but he was engaged now, teaching rather than just humiliating them.
The "fight" lasted about five more minutes before Garp called it off. All four recruits were exhausted, bruised from deflected attacks, and breathing hard. Garp looked like he'd just finished a light warmup.
"Not bad!" he announced. "You learned to coordinate halfway through! That's faster than most!" He pointed at Jake. "And you! You held back at first, but then you started calling out tactical suggestions! Smart thinking!"
No, that was survival thinking. There's a difference.
"Alright! Everyone else! Pair up! I want to see sparring matches! Show me what your instructors have taught you!"
As the other recruits began pairing off, Garp pulled the four advanced trainees aside.
"You four have potential," he said, his voice more serious now. "Different types of potential. You—" He pointed at Marcus. "—have the spirit of a natural leader. You—" Jenkins. "—have raw power that needs refinement. You—" Davis. "—have solid fundamentals that will serve you well."
He turned to Jake. "And you have something interesting. You're scared—I can see it. But you think clearly when you're scared. That's rare. Most people panic. You calculate."
Because panic without calculation gets you killed in this world.
"I'm going to work with each of you individually over the next three days," Garp continued. "Figure out what type of Marine you should be. Not everyone is meant for frontline combat. The Marines need all types."
He looked directly at Jake. "Especially types who can think."
As Garp walked away to observe the other recruits' sparring, Jake felt Marcus pat his shoulder.
"See? He recognizes your strengths."
"He's going to train me personally for three days."
"That's good!"
"Marcus, his training methods involve things like throwing people off cliffs."
"...Probably not for you, though. You're the thinking type, remember?"
"I hope you're right."
Narrator voice: Marcus was not right.