A Prescription

"You're here, old man."

A deep, resonant voice rang out as the wind swept the newcomer's cloak open.

"You're as punctual as ever. Looks like my son means a lot to you."

Mercer spotted the bundle in the newcomer's arms. Only its head was visible, with black hair and plump, rosy cheeks.

"Dragon."

Garp led Mercer toward the man standing ten meters away. He said only his name, then reached him and took the baby from his arms.

"Monkey D. Luffy. Born on May fifth. He's your grandson, my son. I'm leaving him with you."

Garp said nothing. He bent down and placed the baby, who was only as big as both his palms, into Mercer's arms.

"Wait a moment, Grandfather. Grandfather's really fired up right now. He needs to go blow off some steam."

Mercer knew Garp was talking to him. He obediently nodded and quickly backed away.

Though the gesture was a little unnecessary.

Still, being buffeted by the strong wind wasn't pleasant.

A blur flashed across his vision. A dull thud followed, and Dragon's head snapped back. With a series of explosive cracks, his body shot backward.

Garp charged after him.

A faint breeze brushed Mercer's cheek.

He strained to keep his eyes wide, trying to see what had happened.

But all he could hear were repeated explosions in the distant air.

The air trembled, and the ground shook as the sounds rolled in from far away.

Low, angry roars mingled with the wind.

Half an hour later.

Garp reappeared in the distance, looking thoroughly refreshed. His slippers were gone.

His floral shirt had a tear in it, too.

Barefoot, he strode over.

He reached out and ruffled Mercer's hair with a smile. "Getting impatient? Arms tired from holding him?"

He took the baby from Mercer. A flicker of delight was unmistakable on Garp's face.

Garp grinned.

"This little tyke's eyes and brows look a lot like mine. Mercer, he really is your grandpa's grandson."

Mercer smiled, too.

"So now you've found a new favorite and forgotten the old one? You've got a real grandson now, so you don't love your eldest grandson anymore?"

Garp's mouth twitched. He looked awkward, his lips moving as he hurried to explain, "I didn't. I'm not. Don't get the wrong idea."

But then he saw the amusement in Mercer's eyes.

His face visibly darkened.

Garp took a deep breath, grabbed Mercer by the back of his collar, and tucked him into the crook of his arm.

Then he rubbed his bristly face hard against Mercer's cheek.

"Don't overthink it. You're both my grandsons."

"That was such a sleazy thing to say."

Mercer pursed his lips in distaste, but when he saw the helpless look in Garp's eyes, he relented. "Fine, I'll stop teasing you."

Garp visibly relaxed.

The next moment, he put on an angry face and snapped,

"You little brat, who taught you to talk like that?"

"Uncle Bogard did. He taught me that's how you pick up women. You start by putting yourself at a disadvantage, then turn things around to get what you want.

"What did he call it again? Oh, right—playing the victim."

Mercer shamelessly sold Bogard out. He wasn't making it up; Bogard really had taught him that.

Some time ago, Bogard had been eating at Mercer's restaurant when they'd witnessed the melodramatic romance unfolding at the next table. He'd made a comment about it, then passed on his "valuable" life experience to Mercer.

That was why Mercer had called Bogard a fake Casanova that day.

Garp's eyes twitched at the news. He muttered curses under his breath.

"What the hell has that brat been teaching you?"

"You were already picking up bad habits from Dolier, with that honeyed tongue of yours. Now that idiot's teaching you this useless nonsense, too. He's going to be the death of me."

Mercer looked at Garp, who seemed ready to blow his top, and silently mourned Bogard for a second.

Hope you're made of tough stuff, Uncle. You'll need it when the old man starts swinging.

When they reached the warship, Bogard had only just come out to greet them when he saw Garp glaring at him with a look that could curdle milk.

Garp brushed past him and went into the cabin.

Bogard stood there, confused, with no idea how he'd offended his superior.

He turned to Mercer, silently asking, "What's wrong with him?"

Mercer laughed. "Grandpa's fine. He just found out a few things."

"What things?"

Bogard's curiosity flared. He'd sensed that familiar presence earlier, after all.

There had to be some gossip to dig up.

"Come on, tell me. I could use a laugh."

He wore an expression that said he was ready to enjoy the show.

Poor Bogard. He had no idea yet that laughing at someone else's misfortune could easily bring trouble down on his own head.

"It's nothing much. I told Grandpa about that method you taught me for picking up women."

The next moment,

Mercer watched Bogard's face turn from white to green in plain sight.

He rose onto his toes, patted Bogard's arm, and tried to comfort him. "It's fine, Uncle. Grandpa won't do anything to you.

"Well, probably not."

Bogard gave a pained laugh. Looking at Mercer trying to console him, he felt like his stomach was cramping.

He groaned. "Well, thanks a lot."

"If I die over this, you'd better light a cigarette for me at my grave. I don't want to die with regrets."

"Sure, don't worry." Mercer answered solemnly. "I'll leave a whole pack at your grave every year."

Bogard looked at Mercer, feeling touched. This kid really does care about me.

Or not.

Looking utterly despairing, he went to make arrangements for their voyage. Following Garp's usual route, the warship would cross the Grand Line, skirt the nearby waters of the Devil's Triangle, cross the Calm Belt, and enter the East Blue.

During the half-day they spent crossing the Calm Belt, the mood aboard the ship was extremely tense.

There was only one reason.

The Sea Beasts were terrifying.

But whether through luck or something else, they made it across without incident. In the stifling heat, they went straight across.

A straight line was the shortest distance between two points.

Guided by the sea chart, they sailed for several days. At last, a large, well-kept harbor came into view in the distance.

Dawn Island,

the harbor of the Kingdom of Goa.

But the warship didn't approach it. Instead, it headed straight toward the front right.

Less than half an hour later,

a simple, unassuming seaside village appeared. Foosha Village, Garp's hometown. The warship came to a steady stop at the wooden pier near the village entrance.

People came and went along the pier, and the whole place had a simple, unpretentious feel.

Everyone wore smiles that came from the heart.

With Mercer along and the baby in his arms, Garp disembarked and headed down the road toward the house at the far end of the village's eastern side.

Along the way,

the villagers they passed all greeted Garp.

"Uncle Garp, you're back! How long are you staying this time? Oh, and who are these two little ones?"

"Haha, my grandsons."

"Garp, back again? Where are you headed?"

"To Slab's place. I heard he became a grandpa, too."

"So you're going to the village chief's house. Well, since you're back, you may as well go see him."

Garp furrowed his brow. "What's wrong?"

An elderly villager noticed Garp's puzzled look and sighed.

"His son and daughter-in-law got attacked by pirates while they were out at sea a while back. They made it back alive, but they suffered a lot. His son passed away not long after. Then the posthumous child was born, but now the baby's come down with some illness, and it looks like he might not make it, either."

Garp fell silent for a moment, then thanked the villager. "I understand."

Without meaning to, Garp picked up his pace. About ten minutes later, they reached a house.

It was a one-story home with a small yard. The wooden front door was shut, but the lock hadn't been fastened.

Someone was clearly inside.

Garp went right up and pounded on the door, shouting, "Slab? You home?"

Bang, bang, bang!

He sounded like he was trying to break the door down.

Before long, a middle-aged man flung it open, furious. The moment he saw Garp, he spoke in a sarcastic tone.

"Well, look who it is. Which busy big shot could this be? Oh, it's Vice Admiral Garp. What brings you to my house?"

Garp grinned, pushed Slab aside, and walked straight in. "I heard something happened at your place. Need any help?"

Slab had been about to curse him out, but at those words he gave a bitter smile.

"What could've happened? Just another disaster. For ordinary people like us, a home and enough to eat are all we need."

"I heard your little one's sick. Did you find a doctor? How is he now?"

As he spoke, Garp had already made himself at home and dropped into the sofa.

"Yeah, I took him to one. The doctor gave us two prescriptions, and he's gotten a little better."

Slab poured Garp some tea and brought Mercer a glass of juice.

"Thank you."

Mercer thanked him politely.

Slab looked curious. "Who are these little ones with you?"

"My grandsons."

"The older one's Mercer, and the little one's Luffy."

Garp looked immensely proud.

"Dragon's boy?" Slab said. "Well, well. Quite the accomplishment."

"Tch, don't mention that brat. Just thinking about him makes me mad."

Garp didn't elaborate.

"Uncle Garp, you're here."

Just then, a black-haired woman in her late twenties came out of the inner room, carrying a baby.

"It's been a while."

Garp nodded to her. "Aying, it really has been a while."

"Come, let me see your little one."

Aying obediently came over and handed Garp the baby, affection in her eyes.

"His name's Uppu Arthur. I hope he can live a happy life, just like that legendary warrior."

"Arthur? That's a good name."

Garp held both babies in his left arm and played with Arthur using his right hand.

Mercer came closer, too. The baby was about the same size as Luffy and pretty cute.

But.

Without drawing attention to himself, Mercer activated his Observation Haki and sensed the two babies. The difference was clear: Arthur's life force was far weaker than Luffy's.

Mercer raised an eyebrow, growing more curious. The strange situation had caught his interest, and he muttered, "Interesting. This doesn't feel like an illness."

Mercer's muttering drew the attention of everyone in the room.

But before anyone could say anything, Mercer closed his eyes.

He pressed his index finger to Arthur's forehead. With Observation Haki and Unity of Heaven and Man, he probed deeper and deeper, while his finger pressed on the baby's various organs one after another.

A few seconds later, the baby suddenly burst into tears.

Aying hurriedly tried to stop him, but Garp frowned as if he'd realized something and raised a hand to stop her.

He watched Mercer's somewhat unpracticed but very professional technique.

Garp narrowed his eyes. Seeing this, Slab asked curiously, "Garp, what is it?"

Everything in the world had its own rules of operation, and people were no different. From a special perspective of perception, Mercer had "seen" it.

"I see. So the baby was premature. Was he born weak?"

As he spoke, Mercer opened his eyes and saw Aying covering her mouth, looking tense and at a loss.

Slab was quick to react. "Little Mercer, how could you tell?"

"I know a little about medicine. I've seen cases like this before."

During the past few years of seeing patients with Kureha on Drum Island, he had encountered all kinds of difficult and unusual illnesses. He hadn't treated them himself, but he had seen how they were treated.

"Then can you cure him?" Slab regretted asking as soon as the words left his mouth. The boy was so young—how could he possibly know how to treat him?

"I can't, but someone else can."

Slab's heart leaped. "Who? Can you bring them here?"

"They can't come. They're all the way across the Red Line."

Slab's eyes dimmed.

"But I can contact them with a Den Den Mushi and have Doctor Doriel give instructions remotely," Mercer continued.

"Gramps, can I borrow your Den Den Mushi?"

Mercer held out his hand to Garp, who chuckled. "Help yourself."

With no other choice, Mercer reached into Garp's trouser pocket and took out a small Den Den Mushi.

He dialed the private number.

The last time he'd visited Drum Island, Garp had brought Kureha a Den Den Mushi.

Buru-buru-buru-buru!!

Click!

"What do you want, you little brat?"

The call connected in less than a minute. Kureha's voice came through, cool and flat. "Spit it out. I'm busy."

"Right. I came across a premature baby who probably won't live much longer. I examined him, and his internal organs are showing mild failure. They haven't fully developed."

Mercer told Kureha everything he had found in his examination.

"That's the situation. I wanted to ask Doctor Doriel what to do."

The face mimicked by the Den Den Mushi wore a mocking grin, and Kureha's "hee-hee" laugh came through. "You little dummy, do you remember that tonic you've been taking since you were small?"

"Cut the proportions down to one-fifth, then add cordyceps, astragalus, and Sichuan lovage. Is the baby's mother dead? If she isn't, mix the medicine into her milk and feed it to him. If she is, use goat's milk."

"Remember to give the little brat a shot in his navel to stimulate his vitality. I'm pretty sure I taught you how. All right, I'm busy. I'm hanging up."

Click!

"So that's what we need to do?"

Mercer spread his hands and looked at Slab helplessly. "I'll write down the prescription for you in a bit. Start treatment tomorrow, and you can handle it yourselves after that."

Seeing Slab's dazed, unconvinced expression, Garp couldn't help laughing. "Mercer's medical teacher is among the best in the world. You should be thrilled he's giving you a prescription."

Unlike Slab, Aying, the baby's mother, had already gone to get paper and a pen as soon as Mercer started listing the medicine.

At her eager urging, Mercer took them and wrote down the herbs required for the prescription, along with the amounts.

He handed the paper over. When Aying saw how many expensive herbs it called for, her vision went dark.

Her face turned pale, and she looked ready to collapse. Garp reached out and caught her.

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