"Gern, you should understand this better than anyone.
Ace… he carries Roger's blood.
Back then, when I brought him to Foosha Village and entrusted him to Dadan, I was already taking a risk beyond measure. I exhausted every connection I had, leveraged every shred of prestige I possessed, just to barely suppress the fallout."
Garp's voice was heavy, each word carrying the weight of years.
"If he had been willing to become a Marine, to walk the righteous path, I would have taught him everything I know without holding anything back. I would've given him the strength to face any storm the future might bring—even… the power to stand against the World Government itself, just like you."
"After all," Garp continued quietly, "I truly treated him as my own grandson. As family."
"But!"
His tone shifted abruptly, a note of helplessness creeping in.
"If he refuses… if he chooses, like he has now, to become a pirate—to walk the same road Roger once walked…"
Garp turned his head and looked straight at Gern.
"Then am I supposed to personally forge a man who is even stronger, even more dangerous, even harder to contain—a 'Gol D. Ace' far worse than before?"
"His talent comes from that man. That much is undeniable.If, from childhood, he were also given systematic, top-tier Haki training… and then turned toward evil, the destruction he could cause would be unimaginable."
"At that point, what I would be bearing wouldn't just be the responsibility of raising him—it would be the sin of releasing a tiger back into the mountains."
"Marine justice. The stability of the world…Some lines cannot be crossed. Not even for family."
Garp let out a deep sigh, as though setting down a burden that weighed a thousand jin—only to feel something even heavier press down on him.
"So…" he said softly, "I can give him the chance to choose.But I cannot choose his path for him."
"And I certainly cannot gamble the power I hold on an uncertain future—even if… he is my grandson."
The words fell, and the office sank into a brief, heavy silence. Only the distant sound of waves outside the window could be heard.
Gern looked at the old man before him—usually bold and unrestrained, yet now revealing deep restraint and unyielding principle—and understood.
Garp did not love Ace any less.It was precisely because he loved this "grandson," and loved the justice he protected, that he made such a clear-eyed choice.
This silent, even cruel form of "justice" weighed far more than any iron fist ever could.
Gern picked up the teapot, refilled Garp's empty cup, and set it in front of him.
"I understand," Gern said, his voice returning to its usual calm."Then let that 'little flame' struggle in the storms of the New World for now. Let's see just how far his fire can burn."
Garp took the cup but didn't drink. He only let out another heavy sigh.
"Brats…" he muttered under his breath. "Why can't you all just live the way this old man tells you to?"
"So, Vice Admiral Garp," Gern said, smoothly changing the subject,"You didn't come all this way just because of that kid, did you?"
Leaning against the desk, Gern tapped his fingers lightly on its surface.
"What did Fleet Admiral Sengoku say this time?I'm the 'Supreme Strategist of the New World,' after all—I can't spend every day staring at a single 'little flame' in my own backyard."
Since the Marines' "dual-governance" system had been established, Gern had been stationed at G-10, tasked with restraining—if not outright suppressing—the pirate forces of the New World.
Especially the Four Emperors.That responsibility rested squarely on his shoulders.
"Sengoku asked me to check with you," Garp replied."About your next move in the New World—particularly regarding how you plan to keep those four 'Emperors' in check."
"Plans?" Gern lifted his teacup and blew lightly across the surface.
"What—does Headquarters think I've been too idle lately? Or that the New World's gotten too peaceful?"
"This 'Supreme Strategist of the New World' title isn't for show.The people I'm supposed to watch—I haven't let a single one out of my sight."
Garp snorted, his expression darkening. He almost ground the name out through clenched teeth:
"Red-Haired Shanks."
The moment the name was spoken, the air in the office seemed to thicken.
Gern knew full well—Garp had zero goodwill toward Red-Hair. If anything, it bordered on outright loathing.
In Garp's eyes, it was that red-haired bastard who had "abducted" his precious grandson in the East Blue,who had planted the dangerous idea of becoming Pirate King into young, impressionable Luffy's head.
"Red-Hair?" Gern raised an eyebrow, about to ask further—
When suddenly, the Den Den Mushi on the desk—the one designated for encrypted transmissions from Headquarters—rang out with a sharp "Buru-ruru-ruru!"
It immediately began chattering, spitting out a freshly printed document.
Gern set his teacup down, walked over, picked up the report, and scanned it rapidly.
It was an analysis of the recent movements of the Red-Haired Pirates, along with Headquarters' strategic recommendations.
"Heh… Red-Haired Shanks," Gern chuckled softly."Just when I was getting sleepy, someone delivers a pillow."
He tossed the file casually onto the desk, leaned back in his chair, and interlaced his fingers over his abdomen.
"Our dear Fleet Admiral Sengoku believes that based on intelligence and analysis, the Red-Haired Pirates' recent expansion has been far too rapid.That beneath their so-called philosophy of 'balance,' there lies an uncertain ambition—one that requires 'attention'… and a 'warning.'"
"Perfect," Gern said, lifting his gaze to Garp."That suits me just fine. That debt from Karloro Island—Barrett's share—I've been keeping it in mind all this time."
Did Barrett losing to Shanks matter to Gern?
At first, no.Initially, Gern believed Barrett had simply been outmatched in strength.
But after Tezolo's investigation, things no longer felt right.
Especially after uncovering the subtle maneuvers pulled by Hongo, the Red-Haired Pirates' doctor and intelligence officer, prior to that battle.
By precisely exploiting Barrett's arrogant, battle-hungry nature—his susceptibility to provocation—through a series of nearly untraceable "minor actions," Hongo successfully steered Barrett's rage straight toward the battlefield Shanks had prepared.
And there, under the banner of a "fair duel," Shanks executed a perfect trap.
Step by step, he climbed onto the throne of Emperor—using the shoulders of one of Gern's strongest subordinates as his stepping stone.
And afterward, Shanks didn't just win a battle.He won the bigger picture.
With minimal cost, he achieved both deterrence and territorial expansion,turning G-10's edge into the most dazzling jewel in his crown.
That was the part Gern truly could not tolerate—that calculated, elegant use of others' strength to achieve two goals at once.
This was a debt he had long intended to settle properly.
But the Red-Haired Pirates' movements had always been elusive, and Gern himself had been busy responding to the other three Emperors—
Especially a certain "adorable" one who liked to fall from the sky at random.
So the opportunity never came.
Now that Sengoku had officially placed Red-Hair under "special attention,"it could only be said—the timing was perfect.
"Using my people as stepping stones, then basking in glory atop the throne of a Yonko…"Gern slowly rose from his chair and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out over the vast sea surrounding G-10—territory that belonged to him.
His voice was calm, laced with a cold smile.
"There's no such thing as a bargain that cheap."
"It's time to wake this newly crowned 'Emperor' up."
"To remind him that in the New World…some rules aren't his to decide."