Jake's personal training session with Garp began at dawn the next day.
He'd been instructed to meet the Vice Admiral at a secluded beach area away from the main training grounds. As Jake approached, he could see Garp doing one-handed push-ups on the sand—except he had a massive boulder balanced on his back.
That boulder is bigger than a car. He's doing push-ups with a car-sized boulder on his back. This is fine. Everything is fine.
"MORRISON! You're early! Good!" Garp finished his set—Jake counted at least a hundred reps—and stood up, casually tossing the boulder aside. It landed with a ground-shaking thud. "Punctuality is important!"
"Yes, sir," Jake said, eyeing the boulder nervously.
"Now, I've been thinking about you," Garp said, walking over. "You're smart. You think tactically. You understand your limitations. These are good qualities."
"Thank you, sir."
"But they're also dangerous qualities."
Jake blinked. "Sir?"
"Smart people who know their limits tend to play it safe. They avoid risks. They stay comfortable." Garp's expression became uncharacteristically serious. "And in the Marines, playing it too safe gets people killed."
"I... I'm not sure I understand, sir."
"Let me put it this way." Garp sat down on the sand, gesturing for Jake to do the same. "Tell me, what's your plan for your Marine career?"
Oh no. He's going to see right through me.
Jake chose his words carefully. "I want to serve effectively in whatever capacity I'm best suited for, sir."
"That's a politician's answer. Try again."
"I want to use my skills to support the Marines' mission while minimizing unnecessary risk to myself and others."
"Still dancing around the truth." Garp leaned forward. "Let me guess. You want a safe posting. Some administrative position where you shuffle papers and avoid combat. Maybe a nice office job at headquarters. Retire with a pension and never see real danger."
Jake felt his face heat up. "Is that... wrong, sir?"
"Wrong? No." Garp laughed, but it was softer than his usual booming guffaw. "Smart? Absolutely. But here's the problem, kid. The world doesn't care about your plans."
He stood up and gestured at the ocean. "Out there, pirates don't check if you're a combat Marine or an administrative Marine before they attack. Sea Kings don't ask if you're a navigator or a fighter before they strike. When danger comes—and it will come—you need to be able to handle it."
"That's why we have combat training, sir."
"Combat training teaches you the basics. But there's a difference between knowing how to fight and being able to fight when it matters." Garp turned back to Jake. "I've seen too many smart Marines die because they relied on their intelligence and forgot that sometimes you need to punch your way out of a problem."
Jake couldn't argue with that logic, even if he hated it.
"So here's what we're going to do," Garp continued. "I'm not going to train you to be a frontline fighter. That's not your path. But I am going to make sure you can survive when plans go wrong. Because they always do."
"How, sir?"
Garp grinned. "We're going to work on three things. First: situational awareness. Second: defensive combat. Third: survival instincts." He cracked his knuckles. "Let's start with awareness."
Without warning, Garp picked up a rock and threw it at Jake's head.
Jake yelped and barely managed to duck. The rock whistled past, close enough that he felt the wind.
"WHAT WAS THAT?" Jake shouted before he could stop himself.
"Lesson one! Always be ready!" Garp threw another rock.
Jake dove to the side. "This is insane!"
"This is training! A pirate's bullet won't warn you before it fires!" Another rock flew toward Jake's legs.
For the next hour, Jake ran, dodged, and occasionally failed to dodge rocks of various sizes that Garp threw at him. The Vice Admiral wasn't throwing hard enough to seriously injure him, but hard enough that getting hit hurt.
"Pay attention to my stance!" Garp called out. "My weight shifts before I throw! That's your warning!"
Jake tried to focus through his panic. Garp was right—there was a tell. A slight shift in his shoulders, a change in his posture before each throw. If Jake watched carefully, he could predict the throws a split second before they happened.
It wasn't much warning, but it was enough to dodge more often than not.
"Better!" Garp praised. "You're learning! Most people just run randomly! You're reading my movements!"
By the time Garp called a break, Jake was covered in bruises, sand, and sweat. He collapsed on the beach, gasping.
"That was... horrible... sir."
"That was foundational! If you can read my movements, you can read anyone's movements!" Garp sat down beside him and offered a canteen of water. "You did good, kid. Better than I expected for a first session."
Jake drank gratefully. "Is all your training like this?"
"Depends on the student. For fighters, I use more aggressive methods." Garp's grin became slightly scary. "I once threw my grandson off a cliff to teach him determination."
Right. Luffy. The cliff thing. I'd forgotten about that.
"Did it work, sir?"
"He survived, so yes! BWAHAHAHA!"
That's not how measuring success works!
"Don't worry," Garp said, apparently noticing Jake's expression. "I'm not throwing you off any cliffs. You're not that type of student. For you, the training needs to be mental as much as physical."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"You're afraid," Garp said bluntly. "Not just normal fear—everyone has that. You're deeply, fundamentally afraid of this world. I can see it in how you move, how you think, how you hold yourself."
Jake froze. Can he tell? Does he know I'm from another world?
"It's not a bad thing," Garp continued. "Fear keeps you careful. But too much fear makes you hesitate. And hesitation gets you killed." He stood up. "So we're going to face some of that fear. Controlled exposure. Build confidence."
"How, sir?"
Garp pointed at the ocean. "See that?"
Jake looked. About fifty meters offshore, something large moved beneath the water. Something with multiple shadows that suggested tentacles.
Oh no.
"That's a Sea Snapper. Small Sea King, relatively harmless to humans if you know how to handle it."
"Relatively harmless?"
"It won't eat you on purpose, just by accident. Big difference!"
THAT'S NOT COMFORTING.
"We're going swimming," Garp announced cheerfully. "And you're going to learn to stay calm around sea creatures."
"Sir, I don't think—"
"That's the problem! You think too much! Sometimes you need to just act!" Garp started stripping off his Marine coat. "Come on! The water's great this time of morning!"
"I'm going to die," Jake muttered.
"Not on my watch! Probably!"
PROBABLY?
Ten minutes later, Jake found himself treading water fifty meters from shore, trying very hard not to think about the large creature circling below them. Garp floated nearby, completely relaxed.
"Breathe," Garp instructed. "Panicking uses oxygen. Calm breathing conserves energy."
"There's a sea monster below us."
"Sea King. And it's more scared of you than you are of it."
"I seriously doubt that, sir."
"Watch." Garp dove under the water. Jake's heart nearly stopped. For several long seconds, nothing happened. Then Garp surfaced, laughing, with the Sea Snapper following him like a curious puppy.
The creature was massive up close—at least ten meters long, with tentacles and eyes the size of dinner plates. It looked at Jake with what he hoped was curiosity rather than hunger.
"See? Harmless!" Garp patted the Sea Snapper's head. It made a sound somewhere between a chirp and a whale song. "They're actually quite friendly if you don't threaten them!"
"That's... that's a sea monster, sir."
"Sea King. And a baby one. Its mother is probably around here somewhere."
WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?
"Your turn," Garp said. "Touch it."
"Absolutely not."
"That's an order, Morrison."
Jake looked at Garp. Then at the Sea Snapper. Then at the shore, which was very far away. Then back at Garp, who was clearly not going to let him back to land until he did this.
I hate this world. I hate reincarnation. I hate everything about this situation.
Slowly, fighting every instinct screaming at him to swim away, Jake reached out his hand. The Sea Snapper moved closer, its massive eye examining him. Jake's hand touched its skin—smooth, slightly slimy, surprisingly warm.
The creature chirped again and nuzzled his hand gently.
"See?" Garp said triumphantly. "Not so scary once you face it!"
Jake's heart was still trying to escape his chest, but he had to admit—the Sea Snapper wasn't attacking. It was actually kind of... cute? In a terrifying, could-swallow-him-whole kind of way.
"The world is full of dangerous things," Garp said, his voice taking on that serious tone again. "Sea Kings, pirates, natural disasters. You can't avoid them all. But if you learn to stay calm, to read situations, to not let fear control you—you can survive most of them."
"Is that how you do it, sir? Stay calm?"
"Me? I just punch things!" Garp laughed. "But I know my limits too. I don't fight every battle. I don't take every risk. But when I have to act, I act decisively. That's what you need to learn."
They swam back to shore—Jake very relieved to leave the Sea Snapper behind—and continued training. Garp had him practice defensive stances, evasive movements, and what he called "survival boxing."
"You're never going to out-punch someone stronger than you," Garp explained. "So don't try. Focus on defense, creating distance, and striking weak points when opportunities appear."
He demonstrated techniques for fighting larger opponents—targeting joints, using momentum against attackers, creating space to escape. It was practical, unglamorous combat focused entirely on survival rather than victory.
"In a fair fight between you and a pirate twice your size, you lose," Garp said bluntly. "So don't fight fair. Use your environment. Use distractions. Use whatever you need to survive and get away."
"Isn't that... dishonorable, sir?"
"Honor is for people who can afford it. You can't. Neither could I when I was young and weak." Garp sat down. "Let me tell you something, Morrison. I wasn't always this strong. When I started out, I was just a scared kid from a small village who joined the Marines because I had nowhere else to go."
Jake stared. Garp? Scared? That doesn't match anything I know about him.
"I got my ass kicked a lot in my early days," Garp continued. "Lost fights. Nearly died more than once. But I learned. I got stronger. And most importantly, I learned when to fight and when to run away."
"You? Run away?"
"Tactical retreat," Garp corrected with a grin. "I fought Roger the Pirate King dozens of times. You know how many of those fights I actually won?"
"Sir?"
"About half. The other half, I either lost or recognized I couldn't win and retreated to fight another day. There's no shame in surviving to try again."
This was... not what Jake expected. The great Garp, admitting to running away?
"The difference between a dead hero and a living Marine," Garp said, "is knowing which battles to fight. You're smart enough to figure that out. You just need to be strong enough to survive the battles you can't avoid."
The rest of the day was more training—less intense than the morning but still exhausting. By evening, Jake could barely move. Garp declared the day's session over and told him to rest.
"Tomorrow, we work on your mental game," Garp said. "Your body is getting stronger, but your mind is holding you back. We need to fix that."
"Yes, sir," Jake said wearily.
As he limped back to the barracks, Jake reflected on the day. It had been terrifying, exhausting, and painful. But he'd also learned things—practical skills, survival techniques, and the surprising revelation that even Garp, a living legend, had been weak once.
Maybe I don't have to become a powerhouse. Maybe I just need to be strong enough to survive.
Marcus was waiting when Jake returned, eager to hear about the training. Jake gave him a censored version—leaving out the part about swimming with sea monsters because Marcus would think that was cool rather than traumatic.
"Sounds intense," Marcus said. "My session was pretty brutal too. Garp had me doing combat drills against three instructors at once."
"Did you win?"
"I got destroyed. But he said I had good instincts." Marcus grinned. "This is the best training ever."
"We have very different definitions of 'best.'"
That night, Jake dreamed of sea monsters and thrown rocks. But for the first time since arriving in this world, the dreams weren't quite as terrifying.
Maybe he was adapting.
Or maybe he was just too tired to be properly scared.
Either way, he had two more days of Garp's training to survive.
Two more days. I can do this. Probably.