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."