Chapter 3: Unwanted Cargo
"Search the ship thoroughly," Garp ordered, his voice a low growl. "Confiscate all plunder and find any hostages. I want to see the full extent of their evil."
From the moment he'd laid eyes on them, Garp's heart had already passed a death sentence. He could practically smell the thick, metallic scent of blood that clung to the crew—a stench built from countless murders. The thought that such vicious pirates had been operating in his home waters made him clench his fists. He felt he had been taking leave too infrequently; he should have stamped out this kind of filth the moment it appeared.
A short while later, a group of Marines emerged from the ship's hold, escorting several women in tattered clothes. Their faces were hollow, devoid of any spark of life. Their eyes were dull, the light within them long since extinguished. The horrors they had endured on this pirate ship were all too easy to imagine.
"Find the nearest town," Garp instructed, turning his gaze away from their broken forms. "Get them safely to shore. Have the local branch settle them and provide whatever care they need."
Though Garp had witnessed scenes like this dozens of times, it never failed to knot his stomach with a familiar, heavy pain. He was not a hard-hearted man, but a Marine driven by a deep sense of justice. Turning a blind eye was never an option.
"Yes, Vice Admiral Garp!"
Once arrangements for the women were underway, Garp turned his attention fully away, his expression hardening.
"Bogard," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Find a reason—any reason—and execute these scum. I don't want them breathing in this world a second longer than necessary."
"Yes, Vice Admiral." Bogard's reply was as cold and efficient as ever. He had carried out such orders countless times. Did the Marines even need a formal reason to execute blood-soaked pirates? It was the natural order of things.
"Bind their hands and feet securely," Bogard commanded the junior Marines. "Then prepare them for deep-water disposal. Whether they survive or not is up to the sea and their own luck."
As the second-in-command, Bogard's authority on this ship was sometimes more immediate than Garp's, given the Vice Admiral's famously unpredictable nature. The Marines moved to obey without question.
"Yes, Sir!"
"W-what are you doing?!" a pirate stammered, panic rising as heavy chains were produced. "We surrendered! You can't do this! There are rules!"
"Silence, you sea trash," Bogard stated, his voice icy. A palpable, chilling aura of killing intent radiated from him, silencing the protests. "Letting you live this long was mercy enough. Now, sink into the depths quietly. That's an order."
Bogard then turned and walked away from the makeshift 'execution deck.' He had no desire to look upon the garbage for a moment longer.
Garp, meanwhile, stood on the pirate ship's main deck, watching as Marines carried out crate after crate of loot from the hold. The "treasures" of these small-time East Blue pirates were predictable: ordinary gold coins, silverware, and cheap jewels. There were no Devil Fruits, no named blades, no artifacts of real power. They either didn't recognize such things or, more likely, had never encountered them. In the peaceful East Blue, the odds of stumbling upon real power were vanishingly small.
"Vice Admiral Garp!" a Marine's startled cry cut through the activity. "There's... there's a child in here!"
All movement stopped. Marines gathered around a large, ornate chest that had been brought up with the other loot. Inside, nestled amidst some old rags, was an infant.
"These monsters... they were going to let this child suffocate in a box," a Marine seethed, his face twisted in disgust. The revelation sent a fresh wave of fury through Garp.
"Where are the pirates now?" Garp demanded, his voice dangerously calm.
"Vice Admiral... they've already been sent to the bottom. It's too late to retrieve them, even if we tried," the ship's navigator reported quietly.
"Worthless scum," Garp spat. Pirates came in all sorts. Some, like the Red Hair Pirates he occasionally drank with, had a code. Others were just adventurers seeking treasure, and the Marines could tolerate them. But the ones who burned, pillaged, and preyed on the utterly defenseless were the lowest of the low, and the ones the Marines most wanted to erase.
Garp's attention was pulled back to the child. The baby had pale skin and a shock of unusual white hair. His features, even in infancy, suggested he would grow into a handsome man—certainly more so than Garp's own son, Dragon, had been as a baby.
"When we reach port, find a good, caring family to take him in," Garp instructed.
"Yes, Sir!"
At that moment, the infant's eyes fluttered open. They were a striking, pale blue. The baby's gaze settled on Garp, and for a split second, the legendary Vice Admiral had the uncanny, unsettling feeling of being completely seen through, as if no secret could be hidden from that calm, intelligent stare. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a very long time.
"What beautiful eyes," a Marine whispered.
"They are... but doesn't it make you feel... exposed? Like you have no privacy in front of that look?" another replied.
"Do you feel it too?"
The Marines murmured among themselves, unnerved and captivated at once.
"On second thought," Garp said, the words coming out before he'd fully thought them through. "Let me see if I'm fit to be this child's guardian. If a suitable family cannot be found... I will take responsibility for him."
"Vice Admiral Garp!" a Marine exclaimed, incredulous. "You... you plan to adopt him?"
Garp looked down at the baby, who continued to stare back with those fathomless blue eyes. A strange, unexpected sense of connection settled in Garp's chest.
"Hmph. Maybe," Garp grunted, a faint, almost imperceptible softening at the corner of his mouth. "I can feel it. This kid's got spirit. He might just be suited to be my grandson."
(End of Chapter)
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