Kapitel 2: Chapter 2: The Weight of Legacy
The morning sun had barely risen above the horizon as the Marine ship glided through the now-calm waters of the Grand Line. The storm had passed, leaving behind an eerie stillness in its wake. The crew moved with quiet determination, still shaken by the events of the night before. Vice Admiral Garp, however, had retreated to his quarters, the small child bundled securely in his arms.
Garp laid the baby carefully on the table, peeling away the soaked cloth that had wrapped him during the storm. The boy, still asleep despite the chaos of the previous night, stirred slightly as Garp unwrapped him. As the last piece of cloth came free, something gleamed in the dim light—a small, silver necklace around the child's neck.
"Hm? What's this?" Garp muttered, noticing the pendant hanging from the chain. The locket was round, simple yet elegant, with a small button at the top. Garp's curiosity was piqued. He lifted the necklace carefully, making sure not to wake the baby, and with a soft click, opened the locket.
Inside was a small, worn photograph. Garp's eyes widened slightly in surprise. The photo showed the woman he had rescued—looking younger, healthier—cradling a baby in her arms. But what truly caught Garp's attention was the man standing beside her. It was Whitebeard, one of the most infamous pirates in the world, grinning broadly as his massive arm rested around the woman's shoulders.
They looked like a family—a happy family.
"This kid…" Garp whispered under his breath, glancing down at the baby lying peacefully on the table. "He's Whitebeard's son."
The realization hit him hard. Whitebeard, known as the strongest man in the world, had a child. A boy born into a legacy of power, infamy, and danger. If the Marines—or worse, the pirate world—found out about this, the boy's life would never be safe.
Garp exhaled slowly, running a hand through his graying hair. "Ah, this is going to be a headache…" He grumbled to himself. As if things weren't already complicated enough, now he was responsible for Whitebeard's son.
His eyes drifted back to the locket, where something else caught his attention. Etched into the back of the pendant was a name, carved in neat, elegant letters: Vulcan.
"Vulcan, huh?" Garp murmured, closing the locket with a soft snap. It was a fitting name—strong, like the boy's lineage. A name that carried the weight of a legendary father. Garp pocketed the necklace and turned his attention back to the baby, who still slept soundly, unaware of the storm of fate that now surrounded him.
Garp knew he couldn't take Vulcan to Marineford. There were too many eyes, too many people who would ask questions. If the higher-ups discovered who the boy's father was, they might see him as a threat and take matters into their own hands. And if Whitebeard ever found out that his son was in Marine custody, it could spark a war that the world wasn't ready for.
"No, nobody can know about this kid…" Garp muttered to himself. He needed a place where Vulcan could grow up far from the eyes of both the Marines and the pirate world. Somewhere remote, where the boy could be safe.
Then, a thought struck him. Foosha Village. It was a quiet, peaceful village far removed from the chaos of the world. And in the mountains above the village, there was a group of bandits led by Curly Dadan—a woman he had known for years. Dadan wasn't exactly trustworthy, but Garp knew she could be… persuaded to help, whether by threat or bribe.
"Foosha Village it is," Garp sighed. "Dadan's going to love this…"
A Few Days Later: Foosha Village
The Marine ship anchored quietly off the coast of Foosha Village, the morning mist still clinging to the hills. Garp carried the sleeping Vulcan in his arms as he made his way up the rugged mountain path that led to the hideout of the infamous Dadan Family, a group of mountain bandits that kept mostly to themselves. The journey was long, but Garp's powerful strides made short work of the climb.
Finally, he arrived at the bandits' hideout—a run-down shack hidden deep within the forest. Before Garp could even knock, the door swung open to reveal Curly Dadan, the leader of the bandit gang. She was tall, with wild, curly hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, and a permanent scowl on her face.
"What the hell are you doing here, Garp?!" Dadan snapped, crossing her arms in irritation. "We don't need any Marines sniffing around here! We've got enough problems as it is!"
"Gahahaha! Always happy to see me, huh?" Garp laughed heartily, though Dadan's glare remained fixed. "Relax, Dadan, I'm not here to cause trouble. I just need a favor."
Dadan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "A favor? From me? What kind of favor?"
Without a word, Garp shifted slightly, revealing the small, blonde-haired baby cradled in his arms. Dadan blinked in surprise, her irritation momentarily replaced with confusion.
"This here's Vulcan," Garp said, his tone growing more serious. "He's got some powerful people who'd be real interested in him if they knew he existed. And I need him to stay off the radar."
Dadan stared at the baby, then back at Garp, her eyebrows knitting together in suspicion. "Powerful people? What kind of people?"
"Pirates. Marines. The whole damn world, if they knew the truth," Garp said, lowering his voice. "This kid's Whitebeard's son."
Dadan's eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked as if she might faint. "Whitebeard's son?! You brought him here?! Have you lost your mind, Garp?!"
"Relax," Garp said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Nobody knows about him, and it's going to stay that way. But I need someone to watch over him. Someone who can keep him safe and out of sight. And that's where you come in."
"You… want me to raise Whitebeard's son?" Dadan looked at Garp as if he had just asked her to wrestle a Sea King. "Have you completely lost it?"
"I'm not asking, Dadan," Garp said, his voice firm. "I'm telling you."
Dadan's mouth opened and closed a few times, as if she were trying to come up with a protest, but nothing came out. She knew better than to argue with Garp when he had that look in his eye. As much as she hated it, she didn't have much of a choice.
"Fine," she grumbled, crossing her arms again. "But you better come back for him eventually. I'm not raising some kid forever."
"Gahahaha! You're the best, Dadan!" Garp said with a wide grin, slapping her on the back with enough force to make her stagger. "I'll check in from time to time, don't worry."
Dadan sighed heavily, already regretting her decision. "Just… go before I change my mind."
Garp gently handed Vulcan over to her. The baby stirred slightly in Dadan's arms but didn't wake, his tiny hands clutching at her shirt. Dadan's expression softened as she looked down at him, though she tried to hide it behind a scowl.
"What am I supposed to do with him?" she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness.
"Keep him safe, keep him fed, and keep him out of sight," Garp said simply. "That's all."
With that, Garp turned to leave, heading back down the mountain path without looking back.
Dadan watched him go, then looked down at the baby in her arms. "Well, kid," she muttered, her tone softening slightly, "looks like you're stuck with us now."
Kapitel 3: Chapter 3: A Legacy Begins
Three years had passed since Garp had left the baby Vulcan in the care of Dadan and her ragtag group of mountain bandits. Life had settled into a rough routine for the bandits, though caring for a child had been a surprising—and sometimes frustrating—addition to their lives. Despite their grumbling, Vulcan had become part of their strange family, growing into an energetic and warm-hearted boy.
"Vulcan! If you don't get your butt over here, your food's going to the dogs!"
Dadan's booming voice echoed through the clearing outside their mountain hideout. Inside the small, run-down cabin, the usual group of bandits sat around a rough wooden table, shoving food into their mouths and laughing loudly. A few empty plates were stacked near the doorway, leftovers from their earlier meal. Dadan, however, stood with her hands on her hips, staring out into the forest where Vulcan had run off to play.
A sudden rustle of leaves and the sound of tiny feet pounding the dirt announced the boy's arrival.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Vulcan called as he emerged from the trees, his blonde hair glinting in the sunlight as he sprinted toward the house.
At three years old, Vulcan had grown into a bright and curious child, his small frame already showing signs of inherited strength. His hair was a soft gold, wild and untamed like the sea, and his eyes gleamed with curiosity. Despite his young age, he carried himself with surprising grace, moving quickly with a spring in his step. He wore a simple, ragged shirt and shorts—hand-me-downs from the bandits that had long since seen better days—but it didn't seem to bother him.
Vulcan slid to a stop just in front of Dadan, grinning up at her with his usual warm expression.
"I'm here, Aunt Dadan!" Vulcan said, breathless but smiling.
Dadan, who always tried to keep her tough bandit facade intact, softened slightly at the sight of the boy. "You were off wandering again, weren't you?" she said gruffly, though there was no real malice in her voice. "How many times do I have to tell you? You've gotta eat if you want to grow strong!"
Vulcan nodded eagerly, running past her and straight into the house. Inside, the bandits were already halfway through their meal, boisterously shouting and laughing as they shoved food into their mouths. Vulcan scrambled onto the bench beside them, grabbing a bowl of food for himself.
"Look who finally decided to show up!" one of the bandits teased, ruffling Vulcan's messy hair. "Thought you were too busy exploring to eat, kid!"
"Shut up!" Vulcan laughed, shoving the man's hand away playfully. "I was just—"
"Off climbing trees again, weren't you?" another bandit said with a grin. "You're gonna hurt yourself one of these days!"
"Yeah, yeah," Vulcan muttered with a smile, grabbing his spoon and digging into his meal.
The bandits laughed and continued their usual banter, a chaotic blend of insults, stories of past heists, and the occasional mock argument. Despite their rough exteriors, the group had grown fond of the boy, though they would never admit it out loud. For Vulcan, they were like a family, and he felt safe with them, sharing in their jokes and laughter.
As Vulcan ate, he glanced around the room, his observant eyes taking in every detail. He had always been curious, soaking up the world around him like a sponge. Though he was small, there was a calmness about him, a steadiness that made him seem older than his years.
But just as Vulcan was about to ask one of the bandits about a story he'd overheard, the door suddenly flew open with a loud bang.
"Gahahaha! Looks like you're all still alive!"
The booming voice belonged to none other than Vice Admiral Garp, who stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips, grinning broadly. His arrival immediately silenced the bandits, who tensed at the sight of the Marine. Dadan, who had been standing by the door, groaned audibly, rubbing her temples.
"Great, just what we needed…" she muttered under her breath.
Vulcan, however, lit up at the sight of Garp. "Grandpa!" he shouted, jumping off the bench and running toward the towering figure.
Garp's grin widened as Vulcan ran up to him, grabbing him by the collar and effortlessly lifting him into the air.
"Gahaha! Look at you, getting bigger every time I see you!" Garp laughed as Vulcan giggled in response. "You ready to start training today?"
Vulcan nodded eagerly, his blonde hair bouncing as he squirmed in Garp's grasp. "Yeah, Grandpa! Let's do it!"
The bandits, meanwhile, shared worried glances. Garp's idea of training was infamous—he pushed even adults to their limits, and the fact that he was already starting Vulcan's training at such a young age made them uneasy.
"Uh… you sure it's a good idea to start now?" one of the bandits asked nervously. "He's only three…"
Garp turned and gave the man a look that made him immediately clam up. "Of course it's a good idea! The boy's got potential, and if he's gonna be a Marine one day, he needs to start early!" Garp said confidently. "Vulcan's gonna be as great as me—maybe even greater!"
Dadan groaned again, rubbing her face. "Yeah, right…"
Without further delay, Garp carried Vulcan outside, setting him down in the clearing where the trees formed a natural training ground. The air was crisp, the sky clear, and it seemed like the perfect day for what Garp had in mind.
"Alright, Vulcan," Garp said, stretching his arms. "Today, we're starting with something a little tougher. Before we do anything else, you're gonna climb that mountain over there!"
Vulcan looked over at the small mountain Garp pointed to—a steep, rocky incline that loomed above the clearing. His eyes widened slightly, but his curiosity and excitement outweighed any fear. He nodded eagerly, ready for the challenge.
"Okay, Grandpa! I'll climb it!"
"Good!" Garp grinned, patting him on the back. "Just be careful. It's a little tricky, but I know you can handle it!"
Vulcan took off running toward the base of the mountain, his small legs carrying him quickly over the uneven ground. He reached the bottom of the incline and looked up, his eyes scanning the path ahead. The rocks were jagged, and the climb looked steep, but Vulcan wasn't one to back down from a challenge.
He began his ascent, using his hands and feet to pull himself up the rocky slope. The first few feet were easy, and Vulcan moved quickly, his small frame allowing him to slip through tight spaces and find footholds with ease. But as he climbed higher, the rocks became more unstable, and the wind picked up, making the climb more difficult.
About halfway up the mountain, Vulcan's foot slipped on a loose rock. He gasped, his hands scrambling for something to hold on to. For a moment, it seemed like he might fall, his small body hanging precariously from the side of the mountain.
But just as he started to lose his grip, Vulcan's fingers found a sturdy ledge. He tightened his grip and pulled himself back up, his heart pounding in his chest. For a few seconds, he stayed still, breathing heavily as the adrenaline coursed through him. Then, with renewed determination, he continued climbing.
From below, Garp watched with an approving nod. "That's it, kid! Keep going! You're doing great!"
After a few more tense minutes, Vulcan reached the top of the mountain. He stood there for a moment, panting but grinning from ear to ear, the thrill of the climb still fresh in his mind.
"I made it!" Vulcan shouted down to Garp, who grinned up at him.
"Gahaha! Good job! Now come on down so we can get to the next part!"
Vulcan carefully made his way back down the mountain, his movements more cautious this time after his close call. When he reached the bottom, Garp was waiting for him, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Not bad, kid! You've got guts," Garp said, his eyes gleaming with pride. "But we're just getting started."
The next part of the training involved lifting rocks—large, heavy stones scattered around the clearing. Garp pointed to the smallest one, a rock that was still almost as big as Vulcan.
"Alright, Vulcan," Garp said, folding his arms. "Let's see if you can lift that."
Vulcan approached the rock, crouching down and gripping it with both hands. He gritted his teeth and pulled with all his might, his face turning red from the effort. The rock shifted slightly, but Vulcan couldn't lift it fully. Still, he didn't give up. He took a deep breath and tried again, his small body trembling from the strain.
"Come on, Vulcan! You can do it!" Garp encouraged, his voice booming.
Vulcan's determination showed as he tried again, this time managing to lift the rock a few inches off the ground before his strength gave out. He dropped the rock, panting heavily, but a small smile crept across his face. He hadn't lifted it fully, but he had made progress.
"Good! You're stronger than you look," Garp said, nodding in approval. "But there's still a long way to go. We'll keep working on it."
The rest of the training session continued with more lifting, running, and some basic exercises like push-ups and sit-ups. Though the exercises were tough, Vulcan never complained. His natural curiosity and determination drove him to keep pushing, and his calm focus helped him stay determined even when the training became difficult.
By the end of the day, Vulcan was exhausted, his small body covered in dirt and sweat. But despite his exhaustion, he looked up at Garp with a tired yet satisfied smile.
"How… did I do, Grandpa?" Vulcan asked, panting heavily.
Garp chuckled, ruffling the boy's messy blonde hair. "You did great, kid. Keep this up, and you'll be a Marine in no time."
Vulcan beamed, his eyes filled with pride.
As the sun began to set over the mountains, Garp stood and stretched, glancing down at Vulcan, who was already half-asleep on the ground. He smiled softly, his usual gruffness fading for a moment as he looked at his grandson.
"Yeah… you're gonna be something special," Garp muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Vulcan.
And so, as the days of Vulcan's training began, the seeds of his future were quietly being sown.
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