The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft glow over the mountain, and the crackling of the campfire was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. The brothers were scattered around the fire, some with their eyes closed, some lost in their thoughts. Thorfinn, however, was wide awake, staring into the flames, his mind a maelstrom of emotions.
It had been a long day of training, and though his control over his Lunarian powers was improving, it didn't feel like enough. There was always a sense of something missing inside him, something he couldn't quite place. He knew he wasn't just Garp's adopted son. There was a lineage, a history, a bloodline he couldn't ignore.
The questions had been lingering at the edges of his mind for years now, ever since Garp had taken him in. His real father—who was he? Where did he come from? Thorfinn had never been one to ask, not directly. He had accepted Garp as the father figure in his life, even though he knew there was more to the story than he'd been told.
But tonight, something in the air felt different. There was an unspoken tension in the camp, and Thorfinn couldn't shake the feeling that now was the time to ask.
"Garp," Thorfinn said quietly, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of his question. He glanced over to where Garp was sitting, cleaning his glasses with a rag. "Can you tell me about my father?"
There was a long pause. The old man lowered his glasses slowly, his eyes shifting, not in anger, but in thought. It was the first time Thorfinn had ever asked about his father directly, and Garp seemed to hesitate, as if weighing his words carefully.
Finally, Garp spoke, his voice softer than usual. "Your father… He was a great man, Thorfinn. A warrior like no other. His name was Kouzuki Oden."
The name hit Thorfinn like a thunderclap, and his heart skipped a beat. Kouzuki Oden. The name was legendary, a name that echoed across the seas, known for his strength, his courage, and his untimely death. But there was more. Oden was a swordsman of unimaginable skill, a man whose swordplay had been as much a symbol of his power as the very blood that ran through his veins.
"Wait…" Thorfinn's voice trembled slightly, disbelief creeping into his words. "Kouzuki Oden? The Oden? The man who led the Nine Red Scabbards?"
Garp nodded slowly, the expression on his face unreadable. "Yes. That was your father. And your heritage, Thorfinn, is not just Lunarian. It's the blood of a samurai—a warrior who fought for honour and justice, even when it cost him everything."
Thorfinn's chest tightened. He had always known there was something in his heart that longed for more—a path that was tied to something greater than his own struggle for control over his powers. He had felt the pull of a sword ever since he was a child, a sense of purpose he couldn't explain. And now, it made sense. His father had been a swordsman. He had been the kind of man Thorfinn aspired to be.
"I've always wanted to be a swordsman," Thorfinn confessed, his voice steady but filled with a passion he could no longer hide. "It's something I've never been able to explain, but I feel it inside me. Like a calling."
Garp watched him carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the words. "A swordsman, huh? You're not the first to have that dream, Thorfinn. Your father was the same way. He wielded the swords of his ancestors with a style that was unmatched. But it wasn't just about the sword for him. It was about the spirit of a warrior. It's about standing up for what's right, even if it means giving up everything."
Thorfinn's heart raced. "Do you think I can be like him? A swordsman, like my father?"
There was a long pause, and for a moment, Garp didn't answer. His eyes were distant, as if he were reliving memories of Oden, memories of a time long past. Finally, he spoke, his voice rough with emotion.
"You're not your father, Thorfinn. And you don't have to be. But I think you've got the spirit in you. If you want to walk that path, if you want to learn the way of the sword, I'll support you. But know this—being a swordsman is about more than just skill. It's about heart. You've got to fight for the things that matter, and you can't let the weight of your powers or your past hold you back."
Thorfinn's mind was racing. The weight of Garp's words settled over him like a cloak. He had always felt that there was a connection between himself and the sword, but now, with Garp's encouragement, it was as though everything had fallen into place. He wasn't just Thorfinn, the Lunarian, the adopted son of Garp. He was the son of Kouzuki Oden, a warrior who had fought with honour, and now, he had a path of his own to follow.
"I won't let you down," Thorfinn said quietly, his voice filled with determination. "I'll become a swordsman. I'll honour my father's legacy."
Garp's lips curled into a faint smile. "That's the spirit. But remember, Thorfinn, a sword can be your greatest weapon—or your greatest burden. The choice is yours."
The fire crackled in the background as Thorfinn sat in silence, letting the words sink in. His heart felt lighter than it had in years, the burden of his Lunarian heritage