The early morning chill bit my skin as I left the communal sleeping area. Stiffness, a constant reminder of travel and burdens, ran through me. Sleep on the hard living room floor, with only a rough marine cape, hadn't helped. Today's weight was feeding these people.
Dogra stood by the hearth, a silent comfort. "Morning," I murmured. "Breakfast? What do you usually eat?"
Dogra glanced at the pantry. "Whatever can be made. The stores… as you see." His tone was plain.
Limited provisions: tired vegetables, dried herbs, a large, gamey hunk of meat, and picked-clean bones. An idea sparked. "Bone broth," I said, mostly to myself. "And roast the meat." It was huge. "With rice, if there's enough."
Dogra pointed to a burlap sack. "Enough for twenty, maybe more."
Dogra measured rice and set a pot over the fire. I focused on the meat, easily over fifty kilograms. Roasting indoors felt wrong after the close air. Outside, like the orphanage, was better. Aunt Diana's tireless cooking for many came to mind. Fewer mouths now, but the principle was the same: resourcefulness and care.
I cleared ground near the entrance, the cold earth seeping through my boots. Stones formed a fire circle. The morning air, pine-scented and damp with earth, was better than the living room's stale atmosphere. The folded cape lay beside me.
Soup bones simmered, their aroma mingling with woodsmoke, a far more pleasant scent than the cape's saltiness. I turned to the meat, needing tenderizing and flavor. I crushed promising dried herbs with salt, rubbing the mixture into the meat. Hopefully, it would be palatable after my own uncomfortable night.
Magra, resembling a large chicken, emerged as rice bubbled and soup steamed, a welcome sight compared to the cape's mustiness. I laid the marinated meat over embers. Dogra and Magra joined me, a silent offer of help. Dogra turned the meat, Magra skimmed the broth. The smell of roasting meat drifted through the valley, a promise of warmth and sustenance, a much better aroma than the scratchy cape. That smell always drew them.
As we neared halfway, a shout broke the peace. "Meat! Meat! Meat!"
I looked up. Two figures approached. The smaller one, a blur of energy, sprinted towards the meat, hand outstretched.
A jolt, sharp and unexpected, momentarily eclipsed my backache. The straw hat, the rush… and the taller boy, freckled and determined.
"Ace? Luffy?" The names escaped me.
Orphanage instinct took over. I intercepted the younger boy's hand. He looked up, eyes wide with hunger and defiance.
"Hold on there, little one," I said, firm but gentle, my weariness forgotten. "You both need to wash up first. Then we can all eat together."
The lingering scent of grilled meat hung heavy in the humid air, a stark contrast to the aftermath of Garp's "training." Two small figures lay sprawled on the dusty ground. Luffy groaned, clutching his throbbing head, while Ace pushed himself up, a silent testament to his pain.
I knelt before them. "What makes people stronger?" I asked, my voice a low rumble.
Luffy, despite the swelling on his head, declared with unwavering certainty, "Eating lots and fighting strong guys!"
Ace remained silent for a moment, then his gaze sharpened, fixing on me with a hint of defiance. "Why do we need you to train us?" he challenged, his voice carrying a note of youthful arrogance. "I'm already stronger than you look."
"Garp wants you both to become great marines," I stated, watching their reactions.
Luffy's nose wrinkled. "Never! I'm gonna be a pirate!"
Ace remained silent, his gaze still fixed on me.
"The sea offers freedom, yes," I conceded, my gaze meeting Ace's directly, "but even the strongest can be overwhelmed by what they don't understand. True strength isn't just about hitting hard, Ace. It's about strategy, discipline, understanding your opponent, and knowing when to fight and when to hold back. It's about more than just brute force."
Luffy frowned, a flicker of doubt momentarily crossing his features.
"The life of a marine," I continued, my voice calm and measured, "is one of service, of protecting the innocent from those very pirates. It demands strength, resilience, and a strong sense of justice. And it requires training, guidance from those who have faced dangers you can't yet imagine."
"We'll get strong on our own!" Luffy declared, his small fist clenching.
"Piracy is a harsh path," I continued, undeterred by Ace's skepticism, "filled with danger and opposition, not just from the Navy, but from other ruthless pirates as well. You might be strong now, Ace, but the sea is vast, and there will always be someone stronger, someone more cunning. Training will teach you how to survive against such odds."
Ace remained silent, a hint of consideration in his eyes.
"From today," I announced, my voice firm, "I will guide your training. I will teach you to be strong… stronger than you can imagine yourselves being right now. Strong enough to protect yourselves, and strong enough to make your own choices in the future, truly informed choices."
Luffy's eyes narrowed, suspicion evident in his gaze. "But we don't want to be marines!"
"Strength is necessary, regardless of your chosen path," I countered, my tone unwavering. "The sea respects only power. Learn to survive, learn to protect yourselves, learn to fight… and learn to recognize true justice from the false allure of lawlessness."
"Who is the strongest person you have ever seen or met?" I asked, my gaze shifting between the two boys.
Luffy's eyes lit up immediately. "Shanks! He's super strong! He saved me from that Sea King!"
Ace scowled slightly. "Gramps," he stated firmly. "He's the strongest. No one can hit harder than him."
"Garp is stronger than Shanks," I stated with conviction. "And my rank in the Marines is the same as his. While I may not possess his raw power, even now, with all your combined effort, you two couldn't defeat me. So, Ace, do you still believe I am weaker than you?"
Ace's eyes narrowed, a flicker of reluctant understanding in their depths. He remained silent, a subtle nod acknowledging the truth in my words. Luffy, though still focused on his pirate ambitions, watched with a newfound respect.
"Good," I said, observing their reactions. "Then we begin. Understand this: raw talent and hard work will take you far. But there are two other forces in this world that can elevate even the strongest to unimaginable heights. The first is luck. The second is having something, or someone, you love and are fiercely determined to protect."
I looked at each of them intently. "Remember these words. Now, let's begin your training."
And so, under the humid sky, our training began. It was a demanding regimen for them, and a period of intense self-improvement for me. I wove in tales of pirate brutality, hoping to steer them away from that life. But beneath the surface of my instruction, a heavy truth lay dormant, a secret Garp had entrusted to me with a grave expression: Ace was the son of Gol D. Roger, the King of the Pirates.
Garp's words still echo in my mind, his serious face a stark contrast to his usual boisterous demeanor. The weight of that revelation is immense. Training Roger's son to be a marine… the irony is not lost on me. But Garp's reasoning was clear: to give Ace a chance at a different life, away from the shadow of his infamous father. A chance that piracy would almost certainly deny him.
This knowledge cast a different light on Ace's rebellious spirit, his yearning for freedom. Was it simply the natural inclination of youth, or was there something deeper, something inherited from his bloodline? The thought was unsettling.
Knowing Ace's parentage adds another layer of complexity to my task.Even though I really hate Roger, but Ace is innocent. Can I truly steer him away from the path of piracy when it might be ingrained in his very being? My resolve to try remains, but the challenge feels significantly greater.
As I continued their training, pushing them both physically and mentally, the weight of this secret never truly left me. I watched Ace closely, searching for any sign of his father's nature, any indication that the pirate king's blood would inevitably lead him astray. Yet, I also saw his fierce loyalty to Luffy, his quiet determination, and a growing sense of responsibility.
Perhaps nurture can overcome nature. Perhaps the bonds he forms here, the values I try to instill, can forge a different destiny for him.
My own training intensified, driven by a renewed sense of purpose. I needed to maximum all my atributes.