The punching bag on deck

Lorne stared at the old fists limbering up in front of him, utterly stunned.

"Are you taking me to Marine Headquarters, or sending me straight to the afterlife?"

"Hahahaha!"

Garp answered Lorne with ear-numbing laughter and a right fist clenched rock-hard.

"Enough talk! I hereby declare-Love Training starts now!"

The sea wind howled across the deck.

A master chief had already herded the warship's soldiers to either side, where they stood ramrod straight by the rails.

No one dared step forward to protest.

Garp's "Love Training" was legendary even at Marine Headquarters.

"Every time the Vice Admiral trains a rookie, they have to replace part of the deck..."

A recruit had barely muttered this before the veteran beside him clamped a hand over his mouth. The cold sweat on the veteran's forehead had soaked his cap.

"Shut up! Do you have a death wish?"

In the middle of the deck, Garp had already taken his stance.

There was nothing fancy about it. He simply stood there, his hands hanging at his sides, his expression lazy.

Yet that very posture made every hair on Lorne's back stand on end.

"Come on, brat." Garp beckoned with a finger. "I won't use Haki. Just these old bones. Let me show you what strength means!"

Lorne exhaled a stale breath.

He hunched his back, guarded his front with both fists, staggered his feet, and clenched his back teeth tight.

"I'm warning you, old man." His voice was steady. "Don't blame me if I hit too hard."

"Hahahaha-"

Garp threw his head back and laughed, nearly shaking apart the clouds overhead.

"Good! That's the look I like!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he moved.

There was no warning whatsoever.

That languid body erupted into motion faster than the naked eye could follow.

Before Lorne's mind could react, a blast of wind powerful enough to send a man flying hit him in the face.

Boom!

The wind from the punch swept across the deck with a piercing report.

The shock wave alone made Lorne's clothes snap wildly. Then Garp's fist slammed squarely into his stomach.

"Pff-!"

The air was punched straight out of Lorne's mouth.

He was sent flying backward, his back striking the mast hard with a dull thud.

The wooden mast shuddered violently. All the ropes wrapped around it snapped, and the sail came crashing down, burying him completely.

"My bones... a few of them broke..."

Lorne poked his head out of the canvas, his face frighteningly pale, but his teeth remained clenched as he pushed himself up inch by inch.

Agonizing pain from his broken ribs shot through his flank, but at the same time, a glimmer of white light had appeared in the gray Grit Gauge in his mind.

"He's actually still alive?!"

On either side of the deck, the Marines collectively gasped.

A medic rushed out with his medical kit, only for a veteran nearby to grab him.

"Don't! You'll only distract the Vice Admiral!"

"But that boy-"

"He's not dead! Can't you see him getting up on his own?!"

The medic froze, his grip nearly crushing his medical kit. All he could do was watch the wounded boy stagger to his feet from the heap of canvas.

Garp did not move.

He stood in the middle of the deck, watching Lorne, a hint of appraisal entering his eyes for the first time.

"Hmm... not bad. An ordinary recruit would've had his bones knocked apart by that punch. You can still stand. That's pretty good."

"...Enough talk."

Lorne wiped the bloody froth from the corner of his mouth, gulped for breath, and took his stance again.

"Again!"

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!!

On the deck, Garp's fists hammered down again and again.

Every punch was pure physical strength, without Haki, but the weight driving into Lorne's bones made the entire deck tremble.

Lorne did not dodge.

He knew exactly how he fought.

Dodge? He couldn't. Garp's speed and experience completely outclassed him at his current level.

But he could take the hits.

He spread his arms, taking every heavy punch head-on with his chest and stomach.

Thud!

Two more ribs broke on his left side.

Thud!

The bone in his right arm gave a sharp crack.

Thud!

The bruises on his stomach had merged together. Blood seeped beneath his skin, staining his abdomen a horrifying dark purple.

Yet in his mind, the Grit Gauge was filling at a terrifying speed.

Gray.

White.

Gold.

Lorne's face was covered in blood and sweat, yet at that moment, he broke into a grin.

"What are you smiling about?" Garp stopped, frowning for the first time.

"Nothing." Lorne looked down at his battered body and panted, "Just thinking... this is one hell of a bargain."

Garp stared at him without speaking.

But something stirred in his eyes.

"I've hit you so many times." His voice deepened, genuinely serious. "Do you know what would happen to an ordinary person if I beat them like this?"

"No, and I don't want to." Lorne answered without hesitation. "I'm not an ordinary person."

"..."

Garp fell silent.

"Yeah, you really aren't ordinary," he murmured to himself. Then he abruptly raised his hand and waved at both sides of the deck. "All of you, get the hell back!"

The soldiers exchanged looks, all retreating several steps in fear.

A master chief whispered, "The Vice Admiral... is he about to get serious?"

No one dared answer him.

Garp turned back to Lorne. His gaze was no longer that of someone looking at an amusing toy.

"Brat, I'll ask you one more time." His voice was low. "Do you want to get stronger?"

Lorne did not even think.

"Obviously."

"How strong?"

"Strong enough..." Lorne paused, clenching his fists. "Strong enough that no one in this world can touch the people I protect."

The air fell silent for two seconds.

Garp stared at him, then suddenly threw his head back and laughed, his laughter carrying across the sea.

"Hahahahaha! Good! Well said!"

Still laughing, he clenched his fists again. Those callused fists gleamed like iron in the sunlight.

"Then I won't hold back!"

Boom!!!

This punch carried more force than all the previous punches combined!

Before the fist even reached him, the wind from it blasted Lorne's shirt to shreds.

Lorne crossed his arms to block, but that force broke straight through his guard and poured into his chest.

The sound of shattering bones rang out in succession.

"Pff!"

A great mouthful of blood sprayed from his mouth. He was blasted backward, his back slamming hard into the mast once again.

This time, even the mast creaked under the strain.

Lorne slid down the mast onto the deck, scattering wood splinters.

"Ah-!"

The Marines on both sides of the deck cried out together.

The medic rushed out again. This time, no one could stop him, and he stumbled as he ran.

"Move! Let me through! At least four of his ribs are broken. He must be bleeding internally-"

"Wait!" A veteran beside him seized his arm, his face pale. "Listen!"

The medic froze in surprise.

He strained his ears, and amid the chaotic sea wind and cries, he heard it.

Coming from that direction-

Heavy, strained, yet utterly resolute breathing.

"Hah..."

"Hah..."

"Hah...!"

That was not the sound of someone dying.

It was something crawling out of a heap of wreckage, little by little.

The medic's feet froze in place.

On either side of the deck, every soldier's cry vanished in an instant, as though a hand had clamped around their throats.

Everyone's gaze locked onto that heap of canvas and wood splinters.

The heavy breathing grew louder and louder.

Then a blood-covered hand reached out of the wreckage and clamped hard onto the wooden deck.

The fingers dug deep into the wood, leaving five distinct bloody marks.