The afternoon in Foosha Village was slow and warm, the kind that made even the breeze feel lazy.
Garp was asleep.
Not resting—asleep. Flat on his back at home, mouth wide open, snoring loud enough to scare birds off the roof. Training had ended early, and the old Marine hero had declared it a "nap day," which usually meant nothing short of a cannon blast could wake him.
Kael, meanwhile, was nowhere near quiet.
He sat at the bar, legs swinging, talking nonstop while Makino smiled and listened like she always did.
"And then Gramps said it was training!" Kael complained, waving his arms dramatically. "But it was just a punch! A really, really hard punch!"
Makino laughed softly. "I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you."
"He always means it!" Kael replied immediately, then grinned. "But it's okay. I'll be stronger next time."
The door to the bar suddenly slammed open.
Rough voices filled the room. Boots scraped against the floor. A group of bandits poured in, weapons drawn, eyes sharp and cruel. The warmth in the bar vanished in an instant.
Villagers froze.
Makino's smile disappeared.
Mayor Slap stepped forward, forcing his voice steady. "This is Foosha Village. We don't want trouble."
The bandits laughed.
Before anyone could react, one of them grabbed Makino from behind, a blade flashing dangerously close to her throat.
Kael's heart dropped.
"Makino!" he shouted.
"Someone—get Garp!" Mayor Slap yelled desperately.
A villager bolted out the door.
But it was already too late.
"If anyone moves," the bandit snarled, "she dies."
Kael didn't think.
He ran.
With a shout far too small for such a big moment, Kael threw himself at the bandit holding Makino. His tiny fist struck hard—harder than any normal child's should.
The bandit barely staggered.
"Brat—!"
A boot slammed into Kael's chest.
He flew backward and hit the ground hard, gasping for air. Pain exploded through him, far worse than any Fist of Love.
Makino screamed his name.
Kael struggled to sit up, shaking. He looked at the blade at Makino's neck, at her frightened eyes, at the bandits laughing.
They were going to kill her.
Fear unlike anything he had ever known crushed him.
"G-Grandpa…!" Kael cried, tears spilling freely. "Gramps!!"
The world answered.
Something burst out of Kael—not sound, not force, but will.
The air itself trembled.
A crushing pressure swept through the bar like an invisible wave. The bandits' laughter died instantly. Eyes rolled back. Bodies collapsed to the floor one by one, weapons clattering uselessly.
Silence.
Miles away, Garp's eyes snapped open.
"That was—!"
He was already moving.
Garp tore through the village at impossible speed, wind roaring behind him. He ran past the villager who had been sent to call him, leaving only a blur and a shocked gasp in his wake.
When Garp reached the bar, the door hung crooked on its hinges.
Inside, bandits lay unconscious across the floor.
Makino stood frozen, unharmed.
And Kael—
Kael was on the ground, small hands clenched, face wet with tears, chest heaving.
Garp crossed the room in a single stride and scooped Kael up.
"It's okay," he said quickly, holding him close. "You're safe. I've got you."
Kael clutched Garp's shirt weakly, still crying, not understanding what had happened—only that he had been scared, and now his grandpa was here.
Garp's jaw tightened.
He looked around once, taking everything in. Then he turned to the villagers.
"Tie 'em up," he ordered calmly. "I'll call a nearby Marine base later. They'll take care of these fools."
The villagers moved at once.
Garp adjusted Kael in his arms. The boy's sobs slowed… then stopped. Exhaustion claimed him completely.
Kael's head slumped onto Garp's shoulder, fast asleep.
Garp held him tighter.
"…You don't even know what you just did, do you?" he murmured.
Without another word, Garp carried his grandson home—away from the broken bar, away from the silent sea, and toward a future that had just changed forever.