Okay… so I'm a baby now.
And not just any baby — I'm the twin brother of Monkey D. Dragon. Future Revolutionary. World-changing rebel. The man who'll shake the foundations of the world.
Right now, though? He's a drooling, blanket-hogging blob who farts in his sleep.
Yeah. Real intimidating.
And then there's my dad.
Monkey D. Garp. Age: 23. Profession: Human wrecking ball.
I was half-expecting some grumpy old man with a white mustache and a face like a weathered rock. Nope. This guy's young, loud, and has a face you just wanna punch for how smug it is. Not a beard in sight — just a wild grin, sharp eyes, and a voice that could wake a Sea King.
"GWAHAHAHA! This one's got lungs!" he bellows, practically shaking the house as he lifts me into the air like some weird baby trophy.
I cry a little louder. Not from fear. From spite.
"And he's gonna be a great Marine, just like his old man!"
Keep dreaming, old man. The only uniform I'll wear is one I steal off some punk's unconscious body after a bar brawl.
But there's something else.
At night, when the moon creeps into the sky…
I can feel it.
A warmth in my bones. A strength buzzing under my skin. Like a sleeping beast, growling softly, waiting for its time. And the fuller the moon, the stronger the pull.
New moon? I'm as threatening as a potato.
Half moon? I could probably tip over a chair.
Full moon? I swear to the heavens, if someone handed me a club, I might actually be able to clock Garp unconscious.
It's a nice thought to fall asleep to, especially after a long day of diaper changes and dodging Dragon's spit bubbles.
For now, I'm biding my time.
But one day… one glorious full moon night…
I'll be the one tossing Garp into the ceiling.