"You've arrived, old man."
A deep, resonant voice sounded as the wind blew open the newcomer's cloak.
"You're as punctual as ever. It seems my son means a great deal to you."
Moses caught sight of the swaddled infant in the man's arms—only a head visible, with black hair and chubby, fair cheeks.
"Dragon."
Garp, standing ten meters away, stepped forward with Moses in tow. He spoke only that name before closing the distance and taking the baby from the man's arms.
"Monkey D. Luffy—that's his name. Born on the fifth of May. Your grandson, my son. I leave him to you."
Garp remained silent, bending down to place the infant—no larger than two of his own palms—into Moses' arms.
"Wait here for a moment, kid. Grandpa's got some steam to blow off."
Moses knew the words were meant for him and nodded obediently, quickly stepping back.
Though the action might have been unnecessary.
Still, being buffeted by strong winds wasn't exactly comfortable.
A phantom flickered in his vision, followed by a dull thud. Then, he saw Dragon's head snap backward as his body was sent flying with a series of air explosion sounds trailing behind him.
Garp gave chase without hesitation.
A gentle breeze brushed Moses' cheeks.
He strained his eyes, trying to discern what was happening.
But all he could perceive were distant explosions of air, the tremors shaking the earth beneath his feet, and low, furious roars carried by the wind.
Half an hour later.
Garp reappeared in the distance, looking thoroughly refreshed. His sandals were gone, his floral-print shirt torn at the shoulder.
Barefoot, he strode over.
Reaching out, he ruffled Moses' hair with a grin. "Got tired of waiting, huh? Arms sore from holding him?"
As he took the baby from Moses, a flicker of delight crossed Garp's face.
He laughed.
"Kid's got eyes like mine. Moses, this really is your grandpa's grandson."
Moses smiled too.
"So, now that you've got a new favorite, the old one's forgotten? Got a blood grandson and suddenly the adopted one doesn't matter anymore?"
Garp's mouth twitched, his expression turning awkward. "I didn't—that's not—don't put words in my mouth!"
But then he noticed the playful glint in Moses' eyes.
His face visibly darkened.
Taking a deep breath, Garp grabbed Moses by the back of his collar and hoisted him onto his arm, holding him close.
He rubbed his stubbly cheek roughly against Moses' face.
"Don't overthink it. You're both my grandsons."
"What a player's line."
Moses wrinkled his nose in mock disgust, but seeing the helplessness in Garp's eyes, he relented. "Alright, I'll stop teasing you."
Watching Garp exhale in relief.
Then, in feigned anger, Garp growled:
"Brat, who the hell taught you to talk like that?"
"Uncle Bogart. He said this is how you flirt. Called it 'playing hard to get'—acting vulnerable to get what you want."
Moses shamelessly threw Bogart under the bus. Not that he was lying—Bogart really had taught him this.
A while back, during a meal at a restaurant, Bogart had witnessed a dramatic lovers' quarrel at the next table and shared his "priceless" life advice with Moses.
"He said it's called... hmm... oh right—'sweet-talking deception.'"
This was also the reason why Moses said Bogart was pretending to be some kind of romantic hero that day.
Hearing this, Garp couldn't stop the twitching at the corner of his eye, muttering curses under his breath.
"What the hell has that brat been teaching you?"
"You already didn't learn anything good from that Dory, with your sweet little mouth, and now that bastard is teaching you useless stuff like this. It's pissing me off."
Moses watched Garp, who seemed about to explode with anger, and silently mourned for Bogart for a second.
"May your body be tough enough, old man. I hope you can withstand the old man's fists."
...
Arriving at the warship.
As soon as Bogart came forward to greet them, he noticed Garp looking at him with disdain, his nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed.
Garp shot him an angry glance before brushing past him and heading into the cabin.
Bogart was left confused, unsure what he had done to offend his superior.
He couldn't help but look at Moses, his eyes asking, "What's wrong with him?"
Moses grinned. "The old man's fine. He just found out about something."
"About what?"
Bogart's curiosity was piqued, his gossip-loving heart burning with excitement. Earlier, he had sensed that familiar aura.
There must be some juicy drama to enjoy.
"Come on, tell me. Let me have some fun."
His face was now full of amusement.
Poor Bogart, you don't realize it yet, but seeking amusement can backfire and burn you instead.
"Nothing much. I just told him about the flirting tips you taught me the other day."
The next moment.
Moses watched as Bogart's face visibly paled, then turned green.
So, Moses stood on his tiptoes and patted Bogart's arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, old man. The boss won't do anything to you.
Well, probably not."
Bogart looked at Moses, who was trying to comfort him, with a pained expression.
He let out a groan.
"Well, thanks for that."
"If I die because of this, you better light a cigarette on my grave, or I won't rest in peace."
"Sure, don't worry," Moses said seriously. "I'll light a whole pack for you every year."
Bogart stared at Moses, feeling a pang in his chest: This kid's actually pretty considerate.
Yeah, right.
With a look of utter despair, he went to arrange the voyage. Following Garp's usual method, the warship cut straight through the Grand Line, skirted the nearby "Florian Triangle," crossed the Calm Belt, and entered the waters of the East Blue.
For half a day sailing through the Calm Belt, the atmosphere on the ship was unusually tense.
No surprise there.
The sea kings were terrifying.
But whether by luck or something else, they made it through smoothly, enduring the long stretch of stifling heat before finally emerging on the other side.
The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.
Guided by the nautical charts, a few days later, a large, clean port came into view in the distance.
Dawn Island,
the port of the Goa Kingdom.
However, the warship didn't approach it, instead veering toward the right front.
In less than half an hour.
A simple coastal village appeared—Windmill Village, Garp's hometown. The warship docked steadily at the wooden pier at the village entrance.
The pier was bustling with people, exuding an air of rustic charm.
The faces of the passersby were filled with genuine smiles.
Carrying Moses and holding the baby, Garp stepped off the warship and walked along the road toward the easternmost house in the village.
Along the way.
Villagers they encountered greeted Garp warmly.
"Old man Garp, you're back! How long are you staying this time? Oh—who are these little ones?"
"Ha ha, my grandson."
"Garp, you're back again. Where are you headed this time?"
"Going to Slab's place. Heard he became a grandfather too."
"Oh, so you're visiting the village chief. Well, since you're here, you might as well drop by."
Garp frowned slightly: "What's wrong?"
An elderly villager noticed Garp's puzzled expression and sighed:
"His son and daughter-in-law encountered pirates while sailing some time ago. They made it back alive, but suffered greatly. His son passed away not long after. Recently, the posthumous child was born, but now the baby seems to have contracted some unknown illness and might not survive."
Garp fell silent for a moment before thanking the villager, "I see."
Unconsciously, Garp quickened his pace. In about ten minutes, he arrived at a house with a small courtyard—a modest bungalow with its wooden door tightly shut, though the outer lock wasn't engaged.
Someone was clearly inside.
Garp went straight up and pounded on the door with loud, booming knocks, shouting, "Slab! You home?"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
It sounded more like he was trying to break the door down.
Soon enough, a middle-aged man yanked the door open, visibly irritated. The moment he saw Garp, his tone turned sarcastic:
"Well, well, look who it is. The great busy man himself. Oh, it's Vice Admiral Garp! What brings you here? Got business with me?"
Garp grinned and casually pushed past Slab, striding inside as he spoke, "Heard you've had some trouble. Need any help?"
Slab, who had been about to curse, let out a bitter laugh instead:
"What trouble? Just the usual misfortunes of life. For folks like us, having a home and food is enough."
"Word is your little one's sick. Seen a doctor? How's the baby doing now?"
By then, Garp had already made himself at home, plopping down on the sofa.
Slab sighed, "Yeah, we did. Got some medicine. There's been a bit of improvement."
As he spoke, Slab poured tea for Garp and handed Moses a glass of juice.
"Thank you," Moses said politely.
Slab eyed the boy curiously. "And who's this little fellow? And the one in your arms?"
"My grandsons," Garp declared proudly. "The older one's Moses. The little one's Luffy."
"Dragon's kid?" Slab clicked his tongue. "Hmph, that boy's got some nerve."
"Tch, don't even mention that bastard. Just thinking about him pisses me off."
Garp didn't elaborate further.
"Uncle Garp, you're here."
A dark-haired woman in her late twenties emerged from the inner room, cradling an infant.
"Long time no see."
Garp nodded at her. "Ah Ying, it has been a while."
"Let me have a look at your little one."
Ah Ying obediently approached and handed the baby to Garp, her eyes filled with tenderness.
"His name is Uup. Arthur. I hope he can live as happily as that legendary warrior."
"Arthur, huh? Good name."
Garp held both infants in his left arm while playfully tickling Arthur with his right hand.
Moses moved closer, observing the baby who looked about the same age as Luffy—quite adorable.
However.
Moses quietly activated his Observation Haki, sensing both infants. The difference was clear: compared to Luffy, Arthur's life force was noticeably weaker.
Raising an eyebrow, Moses grew increasingly curious, his interest piqued by this strange occurrence. He muttered under his breath:
"Interesting? This doesn't feel like an illness."
His muttering caught the attention of the others in the room.
Before they could speak, Moses closed his eyes.
He pressed his index finger against the baby's forehead, his Observation Haki combined with the Unity of Heaven and Man delving deeper into perception. Simultaneously, his finger pressed against various organs on the infant's body.
A few seconds later, the baby suddenly began wailing.
Ah Ying hurriedly moved to intervene, but Garp frowned as if recalling something and stopped her with a raised hand.
Watching Moses's somewhat unpolished yet professional technique, Garp narrowed his eyes. Slab, standing nearby, asked curiously, "Garp, what's this?"
Everything in the world operates by its own laws, and humans are no exception. Through this unique perspective of perception, Moses "saw" it.
"So that's it. It's a premature birth, isn't it? A case of congenital deficiency."
As he spoke, Moses opened his eyes and immediately saw Ah Ying covering her mouth, her face tense and uncertain.
Slab, however, reacted quickly. "Little Moses, how did you figure that out?"
"I know a bit of medicine. I've seen this kind of situation before."
Over the past few years, while consulting with Kureha on Drum Island, he had encountered all sorts of rare and difficult cases. Though he had never tried treating them himself, he had seen how it was done.
"Then can you treat it?" Slab blurted out before immediately regretting it—how could a child this young possibly know how to treat it?
"I can't, but someone else can."
Slab's heart skipped a beat. "Who? Can we bring them here?"
"They can't come. They're all the way across the Red Line."
Slab's expression darkened.
Moses continued, "But I can contact them using a Den Den Mushi and have Doctorine guide us remotely."
"Gramps, can I borrow your Den Den Mushi?"
Moses reached out toward Garp, who grinned and said, "Help yourself."
With no other choice, Moses reached into Garp's pocket and pulled out a small Den Den Mushi.
He dialed the dedicated number.
The last time they visited Drum Island, Garp had brought Kureha a Den Den Mushi.
Brrr brrr brrr brrr!!
Click!
"You little brat, what do you want?"
In less than a minute, the call connected, and Kureha's voice came through coolly. "Spit it out. I'm busy right now."
"Right, so I came across a premature baby—one that's not likely to live long. I checked, and the internal organs are slightly failing, underdeveloped..."
Moses relayed all the observations he had made to Kureha.
"...So that's the situation. I wanted to ask Doctorine how to handle this."
The Den Den Mushi's imitation of her face twisted into a mocking smirk, followed by a "Heh heh" laugh. "You little dummy, remember that tonic you grew up taking?"
"Reduce the ratio to one-fifth, then add cordyceps, astragalus, and ligusticum chuanxiong. If the mother's alive, mix the decoction into milk and feed it. If she's dead, use goat's milk."
"Don't forget to give the little runt a needle in the belly button to stimulate vitality. I remember teaching you that. Alright, I'm busy. Bye."
Click!
"So that's how it is?"
Moses spread his hands and gave Slab a helpless look. "I'll write down the prescription for you later. Start the treatment tomorrow—you can handle it yourselves."
Seeing Slab's dumbfounded, disbelieving expression, Garp couldn't help but laugh in exasperation.
"Moses' medical teacher is among the top-tier in the world. You should count yourself lucky he's even writing you a prescription."
Compared to Slab's dumbfounded expression, Ah Ying, the child's mother, had already gone to fetch paper and pen when the prescription was mentioned earlier.
Under her eager gaze, Moses took the writing materials and listed out the required medicinal ingredients along with their dosages.
When he handed it over, Ah Ying took one look at the long list of expensive herbs and nearly fainted on the spot.
Her face turned pale, and just as she was about to collapse, Garp reached out and steadied her.
(End of Chapter)