The salty sea breeze swept across the harbor of Windmill Village as the dog-head warship slowly docked.
Standing on the deck, Gern looked out at the peaceful village. Red-and-white windmills turned lazily atop rooftops, fish shops lined the streets, and the distant laughter of children drifted through the air.
"We're here!"
Garp's thunderous voice exploded as he leapt off the ship in a single bound. His boots slammed onto the wooden pier, making the planks creak.
"This is my hometown—Windmill Village! Hurry up and get down here, Gern!"
"I know, Vice Admiral Gar—"
Before Gern could finish, his feet had barely touched the ground when Garp grabbed his arm.
"Come on! I'll show you the sights!"
"Windmill Village… sightseeing?"
Gern glanced sideways.
"Vice Admiral Garp, are those two words really compatible?"
"Hahahaha!"
Garp only laughed, dragging him toward the village before he could resist.
At this moment, the Marine hero looked nothing like a legend—more like a child eager to show off a new toy, his steps unusually light.
"Hey! Everyone!"
Garp suddenly waved at a little girl with braided hair by the roadside.
"Look who I brought back!"
The girl peeked timidly at Gern, froze for a second, then quickly hid behind her mother.
Gern twitched.
"Vice Admiral Garp… you scared the kid."
"Garp, this young man is…?"
Villagers who knew Garp began gathering around.
"Hahahaha!"
Garp slapped Gern hard on the back, nearly knocking him over.
"This is Sky-Shattering Gern! The Marine rising star from the papers—the one who slashed Golden Lion!"
"H-Huh? Golden Lion?"
An old fisherman holding a rod nearly dropped it.
"You mean that pirate with a billion-berry bounty?"
"A billion?"
Garp crossed his arms and laughed loudly.
"That's ancient history! He's at least thirty billion now!"
He pulled Gern into a crushing side hug.
"But this kid scared him so badly with one slash that he ran for his life!"
Gern: "..."
The villagers crowded closer, eyes filled with awe and curiosity. A few older kids even tried sneaking a touch toward the bandage-wrapped Black Blade Eight Desolations—only to freeze when Garp glared at them.
"Don't touch it!"
Garp said solemnly.
"That sword is… cursed!"
"That's a lie."
Gern immediately cut in, smiling at the kids.
"It's just an ordinary sword wrapped in bandages."
Garp clicked his tongue but didn't argue.
"Let's go! To the tavern!"
Garp waved his hand and dragged Gern along again.
"Let Upo—the village chief—see what treasure I brought back!"
What followed completely shattered Gern's image of Garp.
The so-called Marine hero turned into a walking loudspeaker, parading Gern from one end of the village to the other.
Every time he saw someone, Garp would rush over, shove Gern forward, and shout:
"Know who this is?! Sky-Shattering Gern! Half my disciple! The one all the papers are talking about!"
"Golden Lion is terrifying, you know! A monster in the New World! Even I might not beat him!"
"Gern! My disciple! The man who slashed Golden Lion!"
Even worse—
Garp would occasionally "borrow" a bench, step on it, and dramatically reenact the G-3 battle for children, despite not even being there.
When he got excited, he'd randomly throw punches, scaring people into backing away.
"So Golden Lion charged in screaming like a beast!"
Garp shouted, fists cutting exaggerated arcs through the air.
"And Gern—covered in wounds—but then!
He remembered all the civilians he'd protected, shouted something about bonds, stood up… and—slash!"
Crack!
The tree branch he was using as a prop snapped in half.
"Please stop!"
Gern buried his face in his hands.
"This is no different from tying me up and reading my diary out loud!"
"Vice Admiral Garp, we—" Gern tried to interrupt.
"Humility!"
Garp suddenly turned and slapped his shoulder again.
"Young people must learn humility!"
Then he winked at the villagers.
"This kid's just too low-key, hahahaha!"
Gern: "..."
By sunset, the "tour" finally ended.
Garp, still unsatisfied, carried an apple pie gifted by villagers as they headed up the hillside.
"So?"
Garp asked casually.
"My hometown's not bad, right?"
Gern looked at the turning windmills and replied softly,
"It's very peaceful."
So peaceful it was hard to imagine that men who would one day change the world would come from here.
"See? Even the cultured guy agrees!"
Garp laughed, startling birds from the trees.
"That's why I agreed to let that brat Dragon come back—"
He suddenly stopped.
Gern noticed it instantly—the brief dimming in Garp's eyes.
For the first time, the always-laughing Marine hero looked tired.
"Vice Admiral Garp?"
"Gern…"
Garp fiddled with the apple pie wrapper, his voice suddenly low.
"What did Dragon say to you?"
Halfway up the mountain, the sea wind grew stronger.
Gern remembered Dragon's sharp gaze… and that question:
Can Marine justice really change the world?
"Nothing," Gern smiled.
"We were just catching up."
Garp stared at him for a few seconds, then snorted.
"That brat just won't grow up."
His tone was light—but his gaze drifted toward the distant sea.
Gern said nothing.
They walked in silence, their shadows stretching long in the sunset.
How could Garp not know?
The abnormal reports from the East Blue branch.
Dragon's frequent "external patrols."
The mysterious "aid" appearing in certain countries.
The hero was simply pretending not to see.
Because he believed.
Because he hoped.
Because he chose silence.
"We're here!"
Garp suddenly quickened his pace and pushed open the cabin door.
"You'll sleep here tonight! Tomorrow I'll take you to meet Dadan—"
"Nope!"
Gern jumped back.
"I suddenly remembered I still need to go to the South Blue!"
Garp froze—then burst out laughing.
"You brat! Dadan's a great girl!"
"Vice Admiral Garp,"
Gern sighed.
"Is there something seriously wrong with your definition of 'great girl'?"
"And also—you're over forty. Someone around your age named Dadan really shouldn't be called a 'girl' at all!"
"…Uh."
Garp scratched his head.
"Caught me."
Late at night.
Gern lay on the wooden bed, Black Blade Eight Desolations resting beside his pillow.
Outside, Garp's earth-shaking snores echoed, occasionally mixed with sleep-talking:
"Dragon, you damn brat…"
Gern thought of the villagers' reverent gazes.
Of Garp's prideful boasting.
And most of all—of the fact that Garp knew exactly what his son was becoming.
"Justice…"
Gern brushed his fingers along the blade's hilt, its purple-black patterns faintly glowing under moonlight.
"Vice Admiral Garp…
You spent your life within the system—
yet protected every loved one who stood against it."
"Your justice is wavering."
Not because your stance lacks resolve—
but because your belief swings violently between
duty to the system and human instinct.
To your son, Monkey D. Dragon—
you allowed the flames of revolution to burn.
To Ace—
you couldn't throw the punch…
yet still sat beneath the execution platform, fulfilling your duty.
To Luffy—
you silently permitted his dream,
while loudly claiming you'd arrest him before Sengoku.
That was wavering justice.
And perhaps—
the most human justice of all.
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