Chapter 1: The Storm's Gift

The Grand Line was a cruel, unpredictable stretch of ocean, where even the most seasoned sailors could fall victim to its treacherous waters. And today, it seemed like nature itself was testing the limits of the Marine vessel cutting through the storm.

Vice Admiral Garp stood at the bow, bracing himself against the fierce wind and rain. The storm battered the ship with unrelenting force, towering waves slamming against the hull as thunder rumbled in the sky above. The dark clouds overhead blotted out any trace of the sun, casting the world into an ominous twilight.

Despite the chaos around him, Garp grinned, his wide frame unshaken by the tempest. "Gahahaha! Is that all you've got, you lousy storm?!"

His laughter boomed over the howling winds as if daring the storm to do its worst. He had faced far worse than this during his time in the Grand Line. It was just another trial, a wild sea that needed taming.

Behind him, however, his Marine crew was not sharing his amusement. They scrambled across the deck, drenched and fighting to keep the ship on course. The sailors were experienced, but no one could truly be prepared for a storm like this.

"Vice Admiral Garp!" A young officer struggled to make his way across the deck, clutching his hat to keep it from flying off. His voice was barely audible over the storm as he called out, "We've spotted a small boat caught in the storm! It looks like a civilian vessel—it's taking on water fast!"

Garp's expression shifted instantly, the amusement in his eyes fading as he squinted through the rain. His gaze cut across the raging sea, searching for the boat in question. There, barely visible amidst the thrashing waves, was a small craft—fragile and helpless, it was tossed about like a toy in a child's bath.

"Gah, that thing won't last much longer!" Garp muttered, his brow furrowing in concern. Without hesitation, he barked orders to his crew. "Bring us around! Full speed toward that boat!"

The Marines jumped to action. The ship groaned as it turned, carving its way through the wild waves toward the doomed vessel. Every second counted; it was only a matter of time before the storm swallowed the smaller boat whole.

As they drew closer, the scene became clearer—and more dire. The tiny boat was already half-submerged, its hull barely visible as it was sucked in and out of the violent waves. There was no movement aboard.

"Prepare the lifeboats!" Garp shouted, not wasting any time. "We're pulling them out of there!"

Two Marines hurried to lower the lifeboats, but Garp, ever impatient, had no intention of waiting. Before anyone could stop him, the Vice Admiral leaped over the side of his ship, crashing into the churning sea with a massive splash. The force of the waves that would've easily drowned any other man seemed insignificant to him. His powerful strokes cut through the water as if he were merely swimming in a calm bay.

Within moments, Garp reached the small boat and hoisted himself aboard in one effortless motion. What he saw made his chest tighten.

Lying in the wrecked boat was a woman, unconscious, her body battered by the storm. Her long black hair, drenched and tangled, framed her striking face—her features sharp and fierce, yet beautiful, like a warrior queen. She was tall, maybe 1.80 cm, with a strong build that hinted at an Amazon-like strength, though now, her body lay limp and lifeless.

Clutched tightly in her arms was a baby. The child, incredibly, was sleeping peacefully despite the storm raging around them. His small face was calm, his blonde hair plastered to his head from the rain. Garp's eyes softened at the sight of the baby, who seemed blissfully unaware of the danger they were in.

"Oi, oi…" Garp muttered under his breath. "She's been holding onto him this whole time…"

The woman's grip on the child was tight—too tight. Even in her unconscious state, she hadn't loosened her hold on the baby, as if her very last thought had been to protect him.

With a grunt of effort, Garp carefully lifted both the woman and the baby into his arms. His muscles strained not from their weight, but from the delicate precision required to pry them from the sinking boat without disturbing the fragile balance that kept the baby safe in her arms.

"Get the lifeboat ready! We're bringing them aboard!" Garp shouted over the storm, his voice cutting through the roar of the wind and rain.

The Marines quickly maneuvered the lifeboat beside the sinking vessel, and with Garp's strength, they were soon back on the Marine ship. The crew immediately rushed to tend to the woman and child.

"She's wounded, sir!" One of the medics reported as he knelt beside the woman, carefully checking her pulse. "We need to treat her injuries right away. She's barely hanging on."

Another Marine stepped forward, eyeing the baby still cradled in her arms. "We need to take the baby so we can properly treat her," he said.

But as he reached down to gently pry the child from her arms, something unexpected happened. The woman's grip, even in her unconscious state, did not budge. The baby remained firmly held against her chest.

"Sir, she's not letting go," the Marine said, turning to Garp with wide eyes.

"Eh? What do you mean?" Garp grumbled, stepping forward. "Let me see that."

He reached down with his massive hands, carefully trying to separate the baby from the woman's arms. But even Garp, with all his strength, found it nearly impossible to loosen her grip.

"Stubborn even half-dead," Garp muttered, his voice laced with a mix of admiration and frustration. "Alright, bring them both to the infirmary. We'll deal with it there."

The Marines complied, carefully carrying both the woman and the baby to the ship's infirmary. Hours passed as the storm continued to rage outside, the medics working tirelessly to stabilize the woman's condition. Meanwhile, the baby remained soundly asleep, never stirring once from his mother's protective embrace.

Garp stood nearby, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. His usual carefree demeanor was replaced with an unusual intensity as he watched through the small infirmary window. He'd seen countless battles and faced terrifying enemies in his time, but something about this woman and her child gnawed at him. There was a mystery here, something deeper than just a simple rescue.

The Next Day

The storm had finally passed. The once-turbulent sea was now calm, and the Grand Line stretched out in every direction, endless and vast.

Garp entered the infirmary, where the woman lay on the bed. Her breathing was shallow but steady, though her condition remained critical. The baby was still nestled in her arms, sleeping peacefully as if he had never known danger.

The Marine Vice Admiral settled into a chair beside her bed, his massive frame making the chair creak under his weight. He folded his arms, waiting.

Hours passed in silence. Garp, who had been dozing lightly, was suddenly awakened by a shift in the air. An intense pressure filled the room—Conqueror's Haki. It was faint, but unmistakable. His eyes snapped open just as the woman's fluttered awake.

Her dark, fierce gaze locked onto Garp, and despite her weakened state, there was an undeniable strength in her eyes. Slowly, she raised a trembling hand and placed it on Garp's arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong, even at the brink of death.

"Save... my baby…" she whispered, her voice barely more than a rasp, but the plea hit Garp with the weight of a cannonball. Her Conqueror's Haki flared one last time, as if testing whether Garp was truly someone who could protect her child.

Garp didn't flinch. His expression was resolute, his eyes unyielding. "I will," he promised, his voice firm and filled with an unspoken vow.

The woman's fierce expression softened at his words. She turned her gaze to the baby in her arms, her eyes filled with a deep, overwhelming love. With her last ounce of strength, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the child's forehead, her lips lingering for a moment.

The baby stirred slightly in his sleep but remained peaceful.

With that final act, the woman's strength finally faded. Her grip on the child loosened, and her eyes fluttered closed as her life force slipped away. The room grew silent, the air heavy with the weight of her passing.

And then, the baby began to cry.

The small sound cut through the stillness of the room, a heartbreaking wail that seemed to carry all the sadness in the world. It was as if the child sensed his mother's departure, as if, in his own innocent way, he understood what had just happened.

Garp frowned deeply, his heart heavy as he watched the baby cry. He bent down and gently lifted the boy from his mother's lifeless arms, cradling him in his massive hands. The child continued to cry, his tiny hands reaching out as though searching for the warmth he had just lost.

Garp sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of the moment. "You've got a tough road ahead, kid," he muttered, more to himself than to the baby. "But I made a promise."

The Marine Vice Admiral held the baby close, feeling the weight of the silent vow he had made, and the ship sailed on, leaving the storm behind.