Chapter 12: A devil fruit, a bragging grandpa and an angry admiral

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Ace and I stood before the pedestal, both of us staring at the strange, glowing fruit that rested atop it. The soft, purple light from the flames cast shadows that danced across its surface, highlighting the swirling, hypnotic patterns that adorned it. Even without touching it, I knew what this was.

A Devil Fruit.

Rare. Dangerous. And life-changing—for better or for worse. This wasn't just any fruit; it held the power to rewrite someone's destiny, for those bold or foolish enough to eat it.

Ace, ever the curious one, stepped closer, eyeing the fruit like a cat sizing up a new toy. "A Devil Fruit?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of awe and intrigue. "Jackson, you know what this funny-looking thing is?"

I nodded, my eyes never leaving the fruit. "Yeah, I do. Remember that story Grandpa told us? The one about the weird, swirly fruits that give you powers but make you sink like a rock in the sea? That's gotta be one of them."

Ace's eyes widened briefly as the realization hit him. His interest quickly faded, though, and he leaned back with a huff. "Now that you mention it, I don't want it. Who in their right mind would eat something like that and give up swimming. Especially when we plan to set sail in a few years!"

The irony of his statement nearly made me laugh out loud. Little did he know that in the future, he would become Fire Fist Ace, one of the most feared and revered pirates in the world, all thanks to a Devil Fruit. In that moment, I wanted to tell him just how wrong he was, how he'd eventually wield the power of flames themselves. But I held my tongue.

Instead, I said, "If you don't want it, let me keep it. Maybe I can find a use for it." My tone was casual, but inside, my mind raced. I didn't know what kind of fruit this was—no clue if it was powerful or utterly useless. Without any information at all, selling it would proof to be quite the challenge but even worse was the thought of parting with something that might be incredibly rare or valuable.

Ace shrugged, already losing interest. "Sure, take it. I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about." His attention shifted to the glowing symbols on the walls, while I, not wanting to give him time to rethink, quickly snatched the fruit off of the pedestal.

The moment my fingers wrapped around it, something strange happened.

The fruit… woke up.

I don't know how else to describe it. A presence, clear as day, buzzed through my mind. A voice, faint but distinct, brushed against my consciousness. It was similar to the voices from the symbols, but sharper, clearer. More real. I didn't have time to fully comprehend what was happening before the pedestal beneath the fruit sank back into the ground with a harsh clunk, as if triggered by my touch.

The ground beneath us began to tremble, and cracks splintered out from the base of the pedestal, spreading like wildfire across the chamber. Walls groaned and shifted as the floor buckled beneath our feet.

"What in the name of—" I muttered, wide-eyed. My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. 'Indiana Jones? Seriously?!'

"Jackson, what the hell did you do?!" Ace's voice was filled with alarm, his earlier nonchalance gone in an instant. The tremors grew stronger, causing chunks of stone to break free from the ceiling and crash to the ground. A boulder narrowly missed Ace, shattering on impact and sending debris flying.

"I didn't do anything!" I snapped, instinctively ducking as another chunk of the ceiling came crashing down. "I just grabbed the damn fruit!"

Brothers. No matter how serious the situation, it was mandatory to bicker, whether you were at fault or not. But there wasn't time for that now.

A boulder the size of a small house fell inches from where Ace was standing, and that was enough of a reminder to stop arguing and get the hell out of there. I grabbed Ace by the arm and slung him over my shoulder, much to his protest.

"ARGHHHH! Put me down, you idiot!" Ace yelled, flailing in my grasp. His voice echoed off the collapsing walls as I took off at full speed, using my Observation Haki to sense where the next ceiling collapse would occur.

"Shut up and let me save you, Ace!" I barked, dodging another falling rock by mere inches. Ace, shocked by the crazy speed at which we were moving stopped yelling. I could tell he wasn't seriously angry—just shocked by the sudden chaos around us.

The ground shook violently as we sprinted back through the narrow tunnel we had come from. Every step was met with another groan from the cave itself, as if the very earth was protesting our intrusion. It wasn't just a cave-in anymore. The entire structure was collapsing.

"Faster, Jackson!" Ace suddenly changing his tune by 180 degrees, shouted over my shoulder, even though he wasn't the one running. I would've made a snarky comment if I wasn't so focused on keeping us alive.

Thankfully, my enhanced body made it easy to smash through any debris that blocked our path. Walls crumbled, rocks fell, but I pushed through it all, sensing the way out ahead of time.

Finally, we burst out of the tunnel into the open air, just in time to watch the entrance of the cave collapse in on itself, rocks tumbling down like a landslide. Dust and debris filled the air, and we stood there, panting and covered in dirt, staring at the ruins of what had been our secret hideout.

"Well… that was fun," Ace said sarcastically, brushing off his clothes and glaring at me.

I shot him a look, still holding the Devil Fruit in my hand. "Yeah, fun. I'm starting to think this thing was more trouble than it's worth. Could it be cursed by any chance?"

Ace eyed the fruit warily. "Whatever it is, I'm glad I didn't touch it."

I couldn't argue with that. There was something strange—almost alive—about the fruit. And the voice I had heard… it lingered, faint but persistent, as if it was waiting for something. Whatever this Devil Fruit was, it wasn't just any ordinary one.

In the end we trotted back to Dadan's house, mentally exhausted more than physically. Without needing words to communicate, we both stayed in our room, trying to relax before falling asleep. This birthday, as turbulent and chaotic as it had begun, ended in a quiet and boring manner.

--- Narrator POV ---

It was the 1st of February 1508. A month had passed since Jackson's and Ace's birthday, and it was the day on which Garp arrived at the navy headquarters. He jumped off his ship, landing with an energy that belied his age. In his hands, he clutched two bags—one filled with green tea, the other with rice crackers.

As he strode toward the main building, Marines along his path snapped to attention, saluting him with a mix of awe and respect. But Garp, ever the informal soul, merely offered them a quick, disinterested nod. He had no patience for formalities.

"Wow, Garp-san is so cool!" one of the young recruits whispered in admiration, and despite his gruff exterior, it seemed no one could resist admiring the legendary Vice Admiral.

Without breaking stride, Garp made his way through the base, heading straight for his destination—Admiral Sengoku's office. He knew Sengoku would be buried in paperwork, but that never stopped him before.

BAM!

The door to Sengoku's office flew open with a deafening crash, the wood rattling on its hinges. Without so much as a knock, Garp strolled in and plopped down on the small couch, completely ignoring the startled look on Sengoku's face.

Sengoku, who had been diligently reviewing reports, stared at Garp with a deadpan expression, his pen still in hand.

"Come in. Have a seat," he said sarcastically, barely containing his irritation. Years of dealing with Garp had taught him patience, but even that had its limits.

Garp, either oblivious or intentionally dismissive of the sarcasm, let out a dramatic sigh as he leaned back on the couch. Sengoku's eye twitched. He could feel a headache coming on, the kind that only Garp could give him.

Sengoku tried to focus back on his paperwork, hoping in vain that if he ignored Garp long enough, the Vice Admiral would grow bored and leave. But what didn't work in the last 20 years probably wouldn't work today either.

After another loud sigh, Sengoku couldn't take it anymore. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped, unable to hide the irritation creeping into his voice.

"Oh, Sengoku!" Garp began, clutching his chest dramatically. "It's so hard being a grandparent!"

Sengoku's eyebrow shot up. He was already regretting asking.

Garp, sensing an opportunity to ramble, launched into his tale with all the theatrical flair of an old actor. "Remember those twins I saved a few years ago? The ones who call me 'grandpa' every time I visit them?"

"Yes," Sengoku said slowly, his patience wearing thin. "And?"

"Well," Garp continued, leaning forward, "one of them, Jackson, has started some kind of training. And get this—he awakened Observation Haki at the age of six. All on his own! Can you believe that?"

Sengoku's pen paused mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing. "Observation Haki at six?" he repeated. That was… impressive. Even for Garp's so-called 'grandchildren,' that level of talent was rare.

But Garp wasn't done. "Not just that!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with pride. "During our last sparring session, the brat even sensed Armament Haki without me teaching him! I bet he'll master that soon too! He's becoming so strong, Sengoku, it's like I'm raising the next fleet admiral! What am I going to do? They're too talented! My grandsons are going to be the strongest Marines alive from the moment they enter the Navy. It's so stressful! How can I keep up with them?!"

Sengoku could feel his annoyance bubbling into outright anger. His fingers tightened around the pen, and a vein throbbed in his temple as Garp rambled on and on, bragging about his grandsons as if they were some colossal burdens.

Garp was practically beaming now. "And it's not just Jackson! Ace is showing incredible potential too! Imagine, Sengoku, two of the greatest Marines of the next generation, and they're both calling me grandpa! Bwahaha!"

Sengoku's grip tightened on his pen until it snapped, ink splattering across his desk. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep calm, but Garp's incessant boasting was like nails on a chalkboard. The pile of reports before him seemed to taunt him—reminders of the real problems that needed his attention, unlike Garp's 'woes' of being related to prodigies.

"Old monkey," Sengoku growled through clenched teeth, "you came all the way here just to brag about your grandsons?"

"Huh?" Garp blinked, genuinely confused. "What's wrong with that? They're amazing! You'd brag too if you had grandsons as talented as mine." He paused, then grinned. "Though I guess you can't, since you don't have any kids. Should I introduce you to someone? Bwahaha!"

That was the final straw. Sengoku's eye twitched violently, his hands balled into fists. Before Garp could continue his tirade, Sengoku grabbed a nearby book and hurled it at his old friend's head with all the force of a cannon shot.

WHAM!

The book connected, sending Garp flying across the room. He crashed into the wall with a comical thud, a large lump forming on his head.

"OUT!" Sengoku roared, his voice echoing through the office. "And I'm confiscating your rice crackers!"

"NOOOO!" Garp wailed, clutching his head in pain as he staggered to his feet. "Not my rice crackers! Anything but that!"

Sengoku, his patience worn to the bone, glared at Garp with a look that could melt steel. The Vice Admiral, ever the clueless one, stumbled out of the office, still lamenting the loss of his precious snacks.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Sengoku let out a long, frustrated sigh. He rubbed his temples, muttering under his breath. "Old fool… Introduce my foot! If I wanted to, I could also find a wife, make a family and adopt grandchildren much more talented than your brats by tomorrow!"