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Author here.
Just a quick update and a big thank you!
First of all, thank you so much for all the support, the Power Stones, and the collections. We even reached number one in the popularity rankings yesterday... until 'Reborn as a Yamanaka Genius' took over. A fantastic fanfic, by the way. Got hooked after the first chapter.
Secondly, from now on, I'll likely be uploading more on the weekends. I don't have much time during the week, but whenever I do find the time and feel like writing, I'll post a new chapter.
That's all for now. Enjoy reading!
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Sicily
POV GARP
The night was as good as it could be on a flimsy and way to small cot. After a cold wash, I looked at my reflection in the small mirror inside my tent.
My face hadn't changed much over the years. My beard had gotten longer, and there were more gray hairs mixed in with the black. Age was catching up.
The only mayor difference i could tell would be my eyes. They aren't as dead as before.
On impulse, I walked over to the neighboring tent and cleared my throat.
"Dugan, got a minute?"
After some shuffling sounds, he poked his head out from behind the tent flap, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Yeah? Oh, Garp, it's you. Need something? Settling in alright?"
"As well as can be expected after one night. Was wondering if you had a knife I could use to trim this mess," I said, gesturing to my hair and beard.
"Hang tight... if you want, I could do the trimming for you. Sometimes it's easier with an extra set of hands," he offered, already ducking back inside before I could answer.
A few seconds later, he reappeared with a large army knife. I wasn't about to turn down the offer. Most of these knives were too small for my hands anyway, and besides, there was no real danger. If Dugan had any bad intentions, I could cover myself in Armament Haki before he'd get the chance to do anything.
So, I found myself sitting in a makeshift barber's chair that some bored soldier must have cobbled together to boost morale.
"So, Garp... what do you think of the team so far?" Dugan asked, carefully running the knife along my beard.
"I've only met Fury, James, Victor, and you... can't say I'm fully convinced yet," I admitted, which made Dugan chuckle. As he did, the knife nicked my neck slightly.
"Ah, damn it! Sorry about that," he said, pulling back.
I just grinned as the cut healed itself in seconds. "No harm done."
Dugan raised an eyebrow. "So, you heal fast too, huh? Guess that puts you in the 'freaks' club with the brothers. Don't get me wrong—I'm glad to have someone like you covering my back. Still, it feels a bit unfair to the rest of us ordinary folks."
I wondered how he'd react if he knew I was also bulletproof, but I kept that to myself. I chuckled and said, "Trust me, sometimes I'd rather be a bit more normal. It would make life simpler."
"Normal, huh? In a world like ours, where the strong make the rules and the weak get trampled? If I had the choice, I'd take any power I could get. Anything to keep me alive when things get rough."
"Just because the world's harsh doesn't mean it's not worth changing," I countered. "At the rate we're going, the whole system's heading for a collapse. How many more wars do we need before there's no one left to fight them?"
"Fair point, Garp. But I'd still take a little extra something if I could," Dugan said with a grin. "Anyway, let's not get too deep. What do you make of the brothers and Fury?"
I paused, considering how much to share. "Not much to say about Fury yet. He's a closed book. As for the brothers... I don't know. Something seems... off."
Dugan laughed, setting the knife down for a moment. "Can't blame you for that. Those two aren't exactly the easiest to get along with. But when things heat up, you can rely on them—especially Jimmy. Victor's a bit more... complicated."
He glanced around as if making sure no one was listening, then leaned in. "Word of advice: watch yourself around Victor. Nothing's been pinned on him officially, but there are whispers. Seems he enjoys killing a little too much. Sometimes gets caught up in a frenzy... might even turn on his own if the bloodlust hits. I haven't seen it myself, but... you get a certain feeling with him, you know?"
That didn't surprise me. When I saw him fighting yesterday, it was clear from my Observation Haki and experience that Victor had real killing intent. He wasn't just sparring with Jimmy; he wanted to tear him apart. Even when he looked at me afterward, I could practically smell the bloodlust.
"I was already planning to keep an eye on him," I said, nodding. "Tell me about the rest of the team. There's got to be more than just you four."
"Yeah, we're not that small. We've got Izzy, our mechanic; Gabriel, who can drive anything—land, air, or sea; Dino, an ex-Mafia guy who handles the less... pleasant intel work. Then there's Pinky, our sniper, and Jim, who's a bit of a jack-of-all-trades. We've already lost a few along the way, though. We're all good at what we do, but it's nothing that'll win a war by itself.
And we're all a little special. According to the military's docs we have small mutation.
My superhuman strength used to be the best of the lot, but even Victor and Jimmy outclass me in pure strength now. And from what I've heard, even they're no match for you. Ah and i almsot forgot... I'm the Expert for anything explosive."
"So, Jimmy, Victor, and I handle close combat in the future, Fury's the brains, and you blow stuff up?" I asked, a half-smile forming.
"Pretty much. I'm the guy for anything that goes boom," Dugan replied with a grin.
I tried to absorb all the information, keeping track of everyone's role. "Alright, all done," Dugan said, stepping back. "You look like a new man."
"Thanks, Dugan. Appreciate the shave and the chat."
"No problem, Garp. It's part of my job as second in command to keep spirits up... the talking, not the shaving. For the price... Just do me a favor and crush a few Nazi skulls out there. If you take out Hydra bastards too, i'll consider it as a big bonus."
I chuckled politely. I wasn't one for joking about death—Hydra being the exception.
"Oh, before I forget," Dugan added, "training starts in about an hour. I can swing by and get you if you don't want to get lost."
Sicily
POV GARP
About an hour later, I was walking with Dugan toward the training ground Fury had chosen for today. Dugan was a good-hearted guy with a dirty sense of humor, and he had a knack for making me laugh—something he seemed to take pride in, judging by the look on his face every time he got me to crack a smile.
After a few minutes, we reached a small clearing surrounded by a high fence to keep out prying eyes. The rest of the Howling Commandos were already there, waiting for us. I felt the curious gazes of the members I hadn't met yet, sizing me up.
A small, almost delicate-looking man with a Mediterranean flair glanced at me, then over at James. "Oi, short king Wolverine," he joked, "you sure this guy didn't steal a few inches from you? One's way too tall, the other's definitely too short!" That earned a few laughs, the loudest from Creed.
I couldn't help but smile at the comment. When Peggy first told me about James Howlett, I'd imagined a big, broad-shouldered man, maybe even close to my size. Instead, James was smaller than Rogers had been before the serum. It didn't say anything about his skills, of course, but seeing the two of us side by side would make for an amusing sight.
"Shut it, Dino, or I'll make you a head shorter!" James shot back, though I could tell he didn't mean any real harm.
The rest of the team took a moment to introduce themselves, then Fury divided us into groups. The goal of today's training, he said, was to get to know each other better. Dugan and the rest of the "normal" soldiers would do some light exercises under his guidance, while Victor and James were tasked with testing my close combat skills.
Creed and Howlett grinned, and I could tell they were thinking Fury had given them the green light to test the new guy. But I knew Fury was fully aware of my strength and probably figured the two of them, for all their ferocity, wouldn't stand much of a chance. He even gave me a wink.
The message was clear: Fury wanted me to teach the troublemakers a lesson in manners and discipline. I had no problem with that. Victor's murderous stare was starting to get on my nerves, and to be honest, I was looking forward to knocking some sense into them. It's not every day you get two moving, self-healing punching bags.
Under Fury's direction, we moved to a corner of the clearing and got ready. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the sergeant persuading the others to watch. Not that it took much convincing—I could feel the eyes of everyone on us.
Victor licked his lips, his nails growing into claws as he dropped into a crouch, like a cat about to pounce. James extended his bone claws and shifted into a flexible martial arts stance, his eyes fixed on me, analyzing my every move.
Even though it was supposed to be a three-way fight, I could tell right away that the brothers had singled me out as their only target. I felt a wild grin form on my face, my pulse quickening as adrenaline surged through my veins.
Honestly, I was surprised at myself. Had I missed fighting this much? The feeling lasted only a moment. As I stood with my feet planted firmly on the ground, my Marine coat flapping in the wind, Creed and Howlett lunged at me, as if on cue. My grin widened, but I didn't budge an inch.
Even as they closed in, just a meter away, I remained still. Both of them launched powerful strikes—but then, almost as if on instinct, they recoiled, their bodies flinching away at the last second. Their instincts had warned them of the overwhelming danger.
"Bwahaha!" My laughter echoed across the clearing.
"You've picked the wrong playmate!" I shouted. What had scared them off was my Haki. More specifically, my Armament Haki. It flowed through my body and outward in massive waves. I noticed I was beginning to glow faintly with a golden light, but I paid it no mind.
For the first time in ages, I felt free. In front of me stood two men who were like me in some ways, but so different in others. My thirst for a real fight had been awakened. I hadn't felt like this since the Great War—like standing on the edge of my first battle, a mix of anticipation and a hint of excitement. How naive I had been back then...
Now, I had the same feeling again. I wanted to go all out, probably because I knew the brothers could take it. Or at least, I hoped they could. With a nearly mad laugh, I sprang forward, faster than the human eye could track, and appeared right in front of James. My fist was already aimed at his midsection.
Then—boom!
I felt my fist sink deep into James's gut until the resistance suddenly gave way, and he shot through the air like a cannonball.
Victor's eyes widened to the size of saucers. But he didn't waste the opportunity while my back was turned. Like the bloodthirsty beast he was, he attacked me from behind—only to find that while his claws shredded my clothes, they couldn't pierce my skin. Slowly, I turned to face him.
"Bad move, kitty," I said with a grin.
In an instant, I was above him, horizontal in mid-air, ready to strike. Using the momentum of my body, I swung down, aiming directly for Victor's skull. He was too slow to react.
Bam!
I drove him into the ground, leaving a huge crater where he landed. At the last moment, I pulled back my Armament Haki, just enough to avoid accidentally killing him.
"BWAHAHA!"
My laughter rang out again, snapping the spectators out of their shock. They started moving toward me, but before they could get close, an enraged Wolverine was already climbing back over the fence onto the training field. His entire right side had practically been blown away, but it was healing before my eyes.
All traces of human expression were gone from his face. He radiated pure rage. With a growl, he charged at me again, only to be caught by the throat with one hand.
On impulse, I commanded, "Calm down dog!"
And in the next moment, a focused wave of Haki surged from me, sending James straight into the land of dreams. My Conqueror's Haki was back, and I'd even managed to target it solely at him.
The fight ended less than a minute after it began, and my mind was swirling with thoughts.
'What the hell just happened to me? Why am I still grinning? Do I really enjoy fighting and causing pain this much? Is this who I am?'
Lost in thought, I didn't even notice as the spectators slowly snapped out of their shock.
I could hear Dugan mutter, "Damn, someone remind me never to become his enemy. What the hell did I just witness?"
Pulled back to reality, I quickly checked the condition of my two opponents. Fortunately, both were only unconscious. The wounds already healing. Victor's skull was definitely fractured, but I could see through the skin how the bones slowly shifted back into place. Hopefully, my outburst hadn't left any lasting damage.
Without saying another word, I left the training ground. The others seemed like they wanted to stop me, but at a quick gesture from Fury, they backed off.
My mind was a whirlwind of confusion. I spent the rest of the day lying on my bed, trying to understand myself. Did I enjoy causing others pain? I would have said no. Did I enjoy fighting with all my might? At first, I thought I would deny that too, but the longer I dwelled on it, the clearer my answer became.
Memories of the last war began to surface. Memories I had buried deep inside because they hurt more than anything else. I remembered how I had marched mercilessly through the enemy ranks, extinguishing the lives of my foes like a god of death.
There were moments when I had charged at enemy fortifications like a berserker, laughing and grinning wildly. Back then, I never thought much about it. Now I tried to justify it by telling myself that I was young and didn't know any better.
But the more I lingered in those memories, the more I realized how much I had savored the adrenaline of battle. There were times when I had actually longed for the next fight.
It wasn't until my father died that my view of war began to change. Only then did I start seeing my enemies as people beneath the uniforms. Each of them had lived a life of their own. I began to despise war. But in hindsight, I noticed that I still enjoyed fighting. Death became a necessary means, but one I used less and less.
I often left enemy soldiers unconscious on the battlefield, preferring to take them as prisoners of war rather than kill them.
'I despise killing. But fighting? Maybe I was born with such a strong body for this very purpose—to fight.'
I couldn't close my eyes for the rest of the night, trapped in my own memories and thoughts.
Eventually, one question emerged clearly from the chaos in my mind.
'Who am I? Who is Monkey D. Garp?'
"Fuck it. Who cares who I really am! I chose my dream. I gave my life a purpose. I promised to fight for justice and the future! Who cares if I enjoy the fight along the way. The only thing that matters is that I keep fighting, for all those who can't fight for themselves!" I shouted out loud.
"Shut up, man! It's the middle of the night! Yell all you want tomorrow, but don't rob a soldier of his sleep!" a voice shouted back, probably from a few tents over.
I fell silent immediately. Feeling a bit embarrassed, I thought to myself, "I will fight. And maybe someday in my life, I'll discover who I really am. Until then, I'll just keep being me. Just the soldier Monkey D. Garp…"
Finally, the exhaustion took over, and my mind drifted off into the land of dreams.
(TO BE CONTINUED)