Taking Up Post at G3 Branch

"Vice Admiral Garp is back!"

This was the G3 Branch of the Marines on the Grand Line, the branch base personally overseen by Marine hero "Iron Fist" Garp. Thanks to Garp's formidable strength and down-to-earth personality, the Marines of G3 Branch enjoyed greater public recognition than those of other sister branches, and were also far stronger—just look at a certain punching-bag major.

At G3 Branch's harbor, Garp's Dog Head Warship slowly sailed in. Garp, Bogart, and Wright stood at the bow. After loafing around for over two months, Old Man Garp had finally been driven out of headquarters by the endlessly nagging Admiral Sengoku and sent back to oversee G3 Branch.

"Ahahaha, kid Wright, what do you think? Isn't my G3 Branch magnificent?" Old Man Garp laughed with his arms folded, the long ears on either side of his Dog Head Hat bouncing up and down.

"Tch, old geezer." Wright was unimpressed. "After seeing Marineford, what branch could possibly be called magnificent?"

Bang!

"Ow! Old geezer, you hit me again!"

"Brat, your wings have gotten hard, huh? You dare undermine me!"

Bogart sighed beside them, several dark lines appearing across his deadpan face. "Vice Admiral Garp, Major Wright, we're about to disembark. Please mind your image."

Has Vice Admiral Garp ever cared about his image? Bogart silently thought. Major Wright used to care quite a bit about his image at the Training Camp, but Vice Admiral Garp has been beating him up for two months... Let's hope he can hold on to his integrity.

"Ahem! Image! Watch your image, Old Man Garp!"

Wright pulled his head out of the hole in the deck, cast a Holy Light Spell to heal his swollen pig-headed face, then straightened his clothes and hair. He returned to being a refined young gentleman, a handsome youth amidst a filthy world—too much. He was only ordinarily handsome.

Old Man Garp couldn't care less about appearances—no one in G3 Branch was unaware of his habits.

After sending Bogart off to deal with the branch's backlog of work, Garp took Wright back to the branch office and switched into loafing mode.

"Kid Wright, you have no idea how miserable I've been—"

Old Man Garp had switched to donuts this time—he probably only liked the senbei from Sengoku's place. Crunching away on a donut, Garp began pouring out his grievances to Wright.

"That bastard Roger! He couldn't even rest in peace after dying, going on about some One Piece... In the past three years, more pirates have set sail than in the previous ten years combined!"

"That bastard Sengoku! He's even worse than Roger! He kept saying it was all because I didn't attend Roger's execution, letting Roger stay so arrogant right before he died. He made me handle G3 Branch all by myself and wouldn't even send me a rear admiral or commodore!"

"He said I was wise, mighty, and powerful enough to hold the fort alone, and that it didn't matter if I had a few fewer rear admirals! I was foolish enough to believe his nonsense! Now even when I go back to East Blue for a vacation, I have to worry constantly and can't stay long!"

...Admiral Sengoku didn't seem to be wrong. If Old Man Garp had thrown one punch at Roger's execution, would Roger have been in any condition to say anything? As for why he hadn't gone...

Heh heh, I know that you don't know that I actually know...

Admiral Sengoku truly lived up to the title of "Strategist." With a single sentence, he had tied down this terminally lazy old geezer and forced him to work. Weren't you Marine hero Garp? Weren't you powerful? Weren't you incredibly prestigious? Then let the capable do more—the pirates were multiplying, and the rear admirals and commodores had to support other branches and conduct routine patrols. Hero Garp, handling one branch all by himself—what an honor!

"So, Old Man Garp, you put so much effort into training your subordinates but refuse to promote them because you want them to stay at G3 Branch and work for you—"

Wright reached over and took a donut from Garp's plate. Hmm, it tasted pretty good, but it still wasn't as good as Admiral Sengoku's specially designated senbei flavor.

"..."

Old Man Garp nearly choked. He struggled to swallow the donut in his mouth, his old face flushing red from holding his breath.

Once he recovered, Old Man Garp leaped three feet into the air. "You bastard Wright! Is it that I won't promote them? It's because my personal charisma is so high that my subordinates willingly follow me and can't bear to leave! Am I really that despicable a person?!"

Seeing the expression on Wright's face that clearly said, Yes, you are, Old Man Garp restrained himself from hitting him. If headquarters got damaged, headquarters would pay for repairs. If a warship got damaged, headquarters would pay for repairs. But if the branch office got damaged, he would have to pay for it himself—wouldn't that money be better spent on donuts?

"Hmph!" Garp snorted and lay back in his chair, looking as though he were saying, You're a junior, so I won't hold it against you. "Kid Wright, now that you've joined my G3 Branch, you need to familiarize yourself with the work here as soon as possible and start managing the branch for me. Bogart will help you."

"?"

What the hell did he mean, manage the branch? Did that sound like something a major should be doing? Even if there were no rear admirals or commodores here, couldn't he pick from among the captains and commanders? A newly arrived major like him was supposed to manage the base, with Bogart, a commander, assisting him?

Had Old Man Garp finally lost his mind?

"I know what you little bastard are thinking." Garp curled his lip. "Ever since I met you in East Blue, I knew you weren't ordinary. Sengoku was interested in you too, so he had me place you into the New Marine Recruit Camp midway through."

"Huh? Admiral Sengoku arranged it?" Wright hadn't expected Sengoku to value him so highly just because of something Garp had said. "Oh, I always thought it was you, Old Man Garp, who got me into the Training Camp. So it was Admiral Sengoku after all—ah, next time I go to headquarters, I need to thank him properly. Now that's what a leader should be like, knowing how to promote new talent. Unlike certain people, hmph hmph..."

Bang! Garp couldn't hold back this time. Even if he restrained his strength, he still had to hit him. "You little brat, do you think that without my recommendation, without my training forcing out your abilities, that old bastard Sengoku would value you so much?!"

"Owwww..."

Wright held his head. This was routine, basic stuff. He was numb to it. "Teacher Zephyr is much more patient than you! Whenever he hit me, he always had a proper reason! Old geezer, you're completely unreasonable!"

"Ahahahaha!" Garp laughed loudly. "Zephyr has been an instructor for too long. He's gotten soft-hearted! I push you and train you whenever I can because I'm taking every opportunity to raise you into a powerful Marine, ahahaha!"

"A proper reason? My fists are harder than yours. Is that reason enough? Hahaha!"

"..."

What the old geezer said made so much sense that I couldn't even refute it...

The bigger fist called the shots. Since Wright couldn't beat Garp, he could only obey Garp's orders. Thus, Wright began a life at G3 Branch of eating—sleeping—getting beaten by Garp—like hell he did!

Old Man Garp's schedule for Wright:

Wake up at six. Half an hour to take care of personal matters and eat breakfast, then half an hour of jogging to warm up;

From seven to ten, three hours of sea patrol;

From ten to twelve, two hours of physical training;

Starting at twelve, one hour for lunch and relaxation;

From one to three in the afternoon, two hours of seated meditation training—in place of a nap;

From three to six, three hours sparring with Garp;

From six to seven, dinner and relaxation time;

From seven to ten, three hours of combat theory, military strategy, and learning to handle branch affairs;

Wash up and sleep promptly at ten—

It was even more packed than his schedule at the Training Camp!