Gourmet City Pujie

Garp's Room on the Warship.

On the table by the window sat two Den Den Mushi, one ordinary pink-and-white one and one chubby, milky-white one. Both wore Navy caps.

Mercer sat on the sofa, feeding the two snail-like little creatures leafy greens.

Although Mercer hadn't actually manifested the [Taming] gift, he was still confident about raising these little creatures.

It didn't take any special skill.

Buru-buru-buru-buru!

Suddenly, the pink-and-white Den Den Mushi sprang to life, opening its mouth and calling out. Mercer turned toward Garp, who was lying on the bed taking a nap.

"Grandpa—"

Garp had barely gotten the first word out before he climbed out of bed, yawned, and walked over to answer.

Click!

There was no telling who was on the other end. They had probably disguised themselves so the Den Den Mushi couldn't mimic their appearance. Garp answered with an irritated look.

"Hello, hello, this is Garp. Who's this? I'm on leave right now. Whatever it is, don't come looking for me. It's the middle of the day, and a man can't even get some sleep."

After he finished speaking, he waited a few seconds. When the other party still didn't say anything, a vein bulged on Garp's forehead. "I'll count to three. If you don't speak by then, I'm hanging up. Three."

He clicked his tongue. Garp wasn't about to indulge some idiot with nothing better to do. He was just about to hang up when a familiar voice came from the other end.

"Since you still sound so energetic, I'm relieved, old man."

Garp glanced discreetly at the white Den Den Mushi.

An Anti-eavesdropping Den Den Mushi.

It worked just like its name suggested.

Recognizing the voice, Garp's expression grew quiet. A few seconds later, it turned impatient.

"Spit it out. Don't forget what kind of situation you're in now."

The other party fell silent for a moment, too.

"Old man, I have a son. You have a grandson now. You know my situation isn't suitable for taking care of him. You raise him."

Garp's eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. He sat there stunned for several seconds before his lips trembled and he managed to say, "Is it really my grandson? You little brat, you aren't lying to me? How could you have a woman who likes you? What woman was blind enough?"

The voice on the other end turned tense, as if struggling to contain its anger. "Are you taking him or not? Give me a straight answer. If you don't, I guarantee you'll never see him again for the rest of your life."

Garp smacked his lips. "Tell me the time and place. If he's my grandson, I can't let you keep messing him up."

"You know that small island a day's sail from Water Seven toward Enies Lobby, near the Calm Belt? We'll meet there in ten days. I'm hanging up."

Click!

Garp glared at the Den Den Mushi, his mustache bristling, the receiver clenched in his hand. "You little bastard."

Still grumbling, he turned to Mercer, who had quietly listened to the whole conversation.

"Don't you think so? What kind of person does that? He can't even ask properly. If he weren't my son—and so good at hiding—I would've broken his legs."

"You'll get to see him in ten days. You can deal with him then. If you want to break his legs, that day will be a great opportunity. Right, Grandpa?"

"Ah!"

As soon as he'd said it, Mercer clutched his head. Tears welled in his eyes from the pain, and it felt like his brain itself was throbbing.

"Damn it, Grandpa! Are you trying to kill me?"

Garp gave a sinister grin. "That Doctor Doriel woman isn't here. Think carefully before you speak. What should you call me?"

Mercer: "..."

"I was wrong, Grandpa. You're the best. I'm frail, and I can't take a beating from you. Save your strength for your son."

Mercer knew better than to pick a fight when he was at a disadvantage. He gave in in a flash.

Garp: "?"

He froze for two seconds, then burst out laughing.

"Pfft—hahaha! Mercer, are you trying to kill me laughing? You're frail? Do you think your grandpa's an idiot? Your Aura is strange, but your physique is nothing like a little kid's."

As Garp spoke, a glint of surprise flashed through his eyes. As expected, that guy's kid was a monster, even more so than little Ace.

As far as physical strength went, Mercer was already stronger than that bastard had been at the same age. Garp narrowed his eyes at the thought. "Mercer, do you want to get stronger? If you do, your grandpa can teach you."

The look in Garp's eyes gave Mercer the creeps. He had a feeling the old man had bad intentions.

He quickly shook his head.

"I'm frail. If I start training now, I'm afraid I won't be able to handle it."

"...Are you ever going to stop?" Garp's eye twitched. "Say you're frail one more time, and I'll give your whole body a thorough loosening-up."

"Then maybe not. I'm not as frail as I made myself out to be. Doctor Dolier has been adjusting my health with medicated meals all these years."

"Then you—ah, forget it. We'll talk about it in a couple of years. I was too impatient just now."

Mercer made an "oh" sound and hurried to change the subject. "Grandpa, that person on the Den Den Mushi said you have a grandson now. Are you happy?"

"Idiot, aren't you my grandson? What do you mean by that?" Garp furrowed his brow and looked at Mercer sternly. "Listen carefully. You're my grandson, and that's a fact no one can change. Don't ever use that kind of tone again.

"You're smart. I know you've already figured out that we aren't related by blood. But remember: you're my grandson."

Surprise showed in Mercer's eyes. "How did you know?"

"Tch. You two brothers are exactly alike. As soon as Ace was old enough to understand things, he noticed something was off. He asked me why his name was Portgas D. Ace while mine was Monkey D. Garp. He asked why our surnames were different, who his real parents were, and whether they were still alive.

"I didn't tell him. I only said I'd explain once you came along, so that made him look forward to meeting you even more.

"And you're even more precocious than Ace. If he could notice, I can't believe you didn't. Grandpa's curious, too. Why have you never asked?"

Mercer listened quietly to Garp's explanation. As for the reason, of course it was because he already knew everything—but he couldn't say that out loud.

So he said, "I've been doing just fine, before and now. It doesn't really matter whether I know. If it doesn't matter, there's no need to ask. Besides, since you said you'd tell us when we were both together, there's no need for me to ask now. I'll find out then."

When he finished, Mercer patted his cheeks and grinned at Garp. "Grandpa, let's not talk about that. Let's talk about how you're going to deal with your son when the time comes.

"From what you two said, he seems to be having some trouble, and the two of you have fallen out. You seem pretty unhappy with him, too.

"Why don't I go with you? Hand your grandson over to me, then you can beat up your son."

Garp couldn't help nodding, but then he gave Mercer a peculiar look.

"You little brat, were you taking advantage of me just now? Take this!"

The next moment, Garp's fist landed on Mercer's head.

Mercer dodged and even used Observation Haki, but even after he put some distance between them, Garp's arm suddenly stretched out and his fist still landed on Mercer's head.

Mercer slumped against the sofa, exhausted and unwilling, while Garp laughed.

He was all smiles.

Eating, sleeping, and beating up his grandson—life wasn't bad.

It was good for the mind and body.

"Want some snacks? I'll have the ship's cook make you something."

"A glass of apple juice, three pounds of roasted meat, a plate of fries, and some dried fruit."

Garp chuckled happily.

"You've got expensive tastes. I want those things, too. We don't have any. All we've got are dried sweet potato slices. Want some?"

Mercer sighed.

"Sure."

Garp took two bags of sweet potato slices from the bedside cabinet and poured two cups of tea. They sat on the sofa, one bag each, eating and drinking.

At one point, Garp went out. Soon after, Mercer noticed the warship change course, following the current as it sped in another direction.

Days passed, and they sailed past several islands. Along the way, the warship also stopped at the ports of a few prosperous islands to resupply.

A week later, beneath a clear blue sky.

The deck.

Mercer straddled the wooden doghead at the bow, watching the Marines training on deck with interest. They had paired off and were fighting each other.

"Ha! Tekkai!"

"Shigan!"

"Paper Arts—damn it, don't hit me in the face!"

"Geppo!"

Smack, splash.

Boom, thud, thud, thud. Whoosh, smack, smack, smack.

The rhythmic thuds of blows, the powerful exchanges of fists and kicks, the spirited shouts—the Marines sweated beneath the sun.

A red glint flickered deep in Mercer's eyes. Through their clothes, he sensed the movement of their blood, muscles, and bones.

For seven days straight,

Mercer had appeared in different parts of the ship every day when they began training, watching their "performance" through his own eyes.

Since he was a kid—and not even a Marine—no one came to chase him away.

Of course, Mercer knew it wasn't just because of the atmosphere aboard Garp's ship. It also had a lot to do with the fact that he called Garp Grandpa.

After all, Marine Six Styles was a special, systematic set of training techniques for unlocking the human body's potential. It wasn't something that could be taught to just anyone.

Those who were allowed to learn it were all officers with a certain rank,

or talented trainees at the Marine Headquarters boot camp.

Self-taught people didn't count.

Over the past few days, Mercer had secretly learned the remaining five styles, except for Soru, which was difficult to practice on a ship.

Of the Six Styles,

only Tekkai, Paper Arts, and Geppo were worth learning. The other three were merely derivative techniques.

Although he'd learned how to train in them after just one day, Mercer hadn't stopped watching. He continued to observe them closely,

studying their flaws,

and learning the key details of their training.

In the upper deck cabin, Garp and Bogard watched the Marines below. They also noticed Mercer at the bow.

Vice Admiral Garp, Bogard said with a smile, "Aren't you going to do something about your grandson? Other people might not know, but we do. He's been using Observation Haki to sense the Six Styles training for a whole week. He'll learn them all by secretly watching."

Garp didn't seem concerned. "He's just a kid. You think he'll learn the Six Styles? You're overestimating him. The Six Styles require a solid physical foundation. Mercer isn't ready yet."

"What about Paper Arts?" Bogard asked. "Paper Arts doesn't require much physical strength. That kid knows Observation Haki. For all we know, he's already learned it."

Garp's expression stiffened, but then he pursed his lips. "So what if he learns it? We didn't teach him. He's clever enough to figure it out himself. What, you want to stop him from being clever?"

Bogard stared at Garp, speechless and exasperated. He felt like he was talking to a brick wall, and he was quite sure his unreliable superior was pretending to be dense.

"Tch. If you're not going to do anything, I can't be bothered either. He's your grandson, not mine. If anything goes wrong, it won't be my problem. Fine! Whatever you want!"

Garp smiled as Bogard stormed out of the room, then narrowed his eyes as he watched Mercer openly steal the techniques.

"If you can learn them on your own, why should I stop you? Learn as much as you can, kid."

Every so often, Garp even joined the Marines to correct their mistakes.

The Marines were all moved, hollering with enthusiasm.

Their passion for training soared.

Near dusk,

the warship docked at a secluded spot in an island harbor.

Mercer looked at the brightly lit port city in the distance. All kinds of ships filled the harbor.

Merchant ships, pirate ships, transport ships, and even luxurious sightseeing vessels bearing the flags of other countries.

The air carried tempting aromas, and the city in the distance was bustling with people. Even aboard the warship, the noise came in waves.

"Gourmet City Pujie."

A culinary paradise on the Grand Line, it was a haven for chefs as well as a popular tourist destination.

But its status as a tourist and culinary hotspot had also made it a tangled mess, with all kinds of forces crossing paths.

On deck,

Bogard stood at the cabin entrance and looked at the Marines lined up in two rows. He coughed twice to clear his throat.

"We'll be stopping here tonight. Vice Admiral Garp says you're all getting the night off. Be back at the warship by seven tomorrow morning.

"Anyone who wants to visit Gourmet City can head out shortly, but change into civilian clothes first. And don't disturb the locals or do anything illegal.

"Now, dismissed!"

"Yeah!"

The Marines and officers all lit up with joy. They were thrilled to get the chance to spend some time here.

The city had not only great food but beautiful women from all over. They had plenty of money in their pockets, so naturally they wanted to enjoy themselves while they had the chance.

At a second-floor cabin window, Mercer watched the lively scene on deck, then turned to Garp, who had already changed into a flower-print shirt, flower-print shorts, and flip-flops.

Mercer had changed clothes, too. He wore a blue-gray short-sleeved shirt with a panda printed on the chest, black cropped trousers, and a pair of coffee-brown suede ankle boots.

A small shoulder bag hung diagonally across his body.

It was bulging.

Garp finished getting dressed, picked his nose, and held out his hand.

Mercer tilted his head, puzzled, then placed his left hand in Garp's.

But the next second, Garp impatiently smacked Mercer's hand away. "What are you thinking? I was asking you for spending money. I wasn't asking to hold your hand."

Mercer's face darkened as he stared at Garp. After a few seconds, he muttered, "Grandpa, are you serious? What kind of grandpa asks his grandson for money when he's going out to have fun?"

"Just tell me if you're giving me any. You really expect to say no to me?" Garp snapped. "If I had money, would I be asking you?"

"You traded a little bag of gold nuggets for over a million Beli at that exchange office on the island the other day. You think I don't know?"

Mercer gritted his teeth. "Bogard's such a blabbermouth. How does he have to report everything? Do you know how hard it is to save up a little nest egg?"

Grumbling, he pulled out a thick stack of Beli from his shoulder bag. It looked like at least a hundred thousand. He slapped it into Garp's palm.

Garp's face broke into a wide grin. He happily tossed the money in his hand. "Not bad, not bad. You're a good grandson—much better than that kid Dragon."

"Ahem!"

A cough came from the doorway. Bogard appeared in a refined purple suit with a flower pinned to his chest, looking incredibly flashy.

He watched the grandfather and grandson with an odd expression, covering his mouth with his right hand as his shoulders shook.

"Er, Vice Admiral Garp, we'd better get going, too. Time to go have some fun."