Nami was straddling Luffy, her hands pulling his cheeks. Robin stood to the side. Vivi pressed against the wall, tense.
Luffy was pinned beneath Nami. The pose was unmistakably intimate.
Their clothes were still on. But one small room, three young women—all, it seemed, close to his grandson.
Anyone seeing this would get the wrong idea. At least they were still dressed.
"Old man! Are you done?!"
Luffy snapped out of it, scrambling up to block the three girls from view. He shouted at Garp, who had just crashed through the wall. "You're like a patch of glue—won't come off!"
Garp's pause lasted only a second. He ripped off his dog hood, revealing his weathered, authoritative face. His eyes locked on Luffy, a dangerous gleam rising. Behind him, a volcano seemed ready to erupt.
"What did you call me?"
Garp's voice was low, measured.
"Old man!"
Luffy glared back.
In front of his nakama—especially Nami and the others—he couldn't show weakness.
"You little brat!"
Garp's rage maxed out. His hair seemed to stand on end. "Get out here! Let me teach you a lesson with my Fists of Love!"
His beard shook with fury. But he held back. Whatever was going on with the three women—potential granddaughters-in-law—he didn't want to make a scene. Bad for his image.
Nami and Vivi were clinging to each other, faces pale.
Robin's expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp, her body tensed, ready to act.
They had barely escaped this man's pursuit. Now he was back.
Seeing their hostility, Garp scratched his messy hair, forcing his temper down. His voice softened slightly.
"Forget it. I'm not here to arrest you."
Luffy felt some of the tension leave him. At least the old man wasn't here for a fight.
"Then what are you here for, Grandpa?"
Robin and the others watched Garp warily, uncertain whether he was friend or foe.
Outside, the noise grew. Metal clashed.
Zoro and Chopper were back. They'd found the Marines surrounding the place—and engaged them.
"Hey, Grandpa!"
Luffy heard the fighting. "If you're not here to arrest me, call off your men!"
"So you remember I'm your grandfather!"
Garp's barely contained rage flared again. He grabbed Luffy's collar, lifting him like a kitten. Spittle flew in Luffy's face. "Look what you've done, you brat! After all the years I trained you! You wouldn't become a Marine—fine. But a pirate?! And this! Storming Enies Lobby! Declaring war on the World Government! Six hundred sixty million bounty! Are you trying to kill me?!"
"Let go, old man! I always said I was going to be a pirate!"
Luffy struggled, but Garp's grip was like iron.
He knew his grandfather was angry—not homicidal. He didn't fight back.
"Talking back! That Red Hair corrupted you!"
Garp's fist came down on Luffy's head without mercy.
CRACK!
It sounded painful.
"That hurts, damn it!"
Luffy yelped. A lump rose on his head.
"Still going to be a pirate?!"
Another punch.
"I'm going to be King of the Pirates!"
"Unrepentant!"
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
"Hiss!"
"Had enough?"
"I'm sorry! But I'm still going to be King of the Pirates!"
Garp's mustache bristled. He had no words.
His grandson was stubborn. He'd been like this since he was a child. Nothing could change his mind.
Nami, Vivi, and Robin watched the chaos. Grandfather, kind. Grandson, filial. They didn't know what to feel.
Worried? Luffy was getting beaten—but Garp wasn't trying to kill him.
Not worried? The punches sounded brutal.
This was the Fist of Love?
"Should we stop them?" Vivi whispered.
"Luffy's not fighting back. This is different." Nami's expression was strained.
Probably not life-threatening.
They all thought the same thing.
CRUNCH!
Finally, Garp—still furious, nowhere to put it—threw Luffy out the hole in the wall like trash.
Luffy arced through the air, then hit the ground in the center of the yard. Dust clouded up.
"Just like his father."
Garp exhaled. He shouted out the hole, his voice back to its usual volume:
"Here. Teach him a lesson."
A white figure shot toward Luffy.
"Hisashiburi, Straw Hat."
"Huh? Who're you?"
Luffy's head was spinning. He squinted at the figure rushing toward him.
His grandfather's beatings didn't mean anyone else could pick a fight.
He recognized the man.
"Oh. Smoke Guy?"
"Still remember me!"
Smoker's lower body turned to smoke, propelling him toward Luffy. His arm drew back, then struck forward—his fist transforming into white smoke, stretching, a hard knuckle guard coated in Busoshoku Haki at the tip.
"White Snake!"
CRACK!
Fast. And he'd learned Haki.
Seems he wasn't the only one improving.
But Luffy was faster.
The night of fighting an enhanced Aokiji in his dreams—developing his new form—had sharpened his instincts.
The moment Smoker attacked, Luffy's body reacted.
His skin flushed red. Black Haki patterns spread beneath the surface, coming alive, weaving together.
***
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