Ryoma wiped every extra expression from his face, stepped forward solemnly, and gave Garp a slight bow. "I, Ryoma, am deeply grateful for your regard, Garp-san."
His manner was respectful, yet his tone carried no hint of servility.
Garp nodded in satisfaction, thumped his chest, and grinned. "Hahaha! So you're in, brat?"
"No."
Ryoma lifted his head, met Garp's slightly startled gaze, and shook it firmly.
"I'm sorry. Please allow me to refuse."
The smile on Garp's face froze. He hadn't expected his personal invitation to be rejected so flatly by some no-name kid.
"Why?"
He pressed, voice tinged with bewilderment.
"With your talent, rotting in the East Blue is a waste. Only at Marines Headquarters can you get the training to become a real powerhouse."
Ryoma sighed softly.
He knew that without a proper reason, this stubborn old man wouldn't let it go.
"Because I can't stomach taking orders from those Celestial Dragons." Ryoma's voice wasn't loud, but every word rang clear.
"I can't picture myself protecting scum like them—it'd make me sick."
"Celestial Dragons…"
Garp rolled the word around, sharp eyes narrowing as a fearsome glint flashed and vanished.
He stared hard at Ryoma, and the air around them grew heavy.
"You little…"
Garp scratched under his dog-head cap, tone turning complicated.
"You sure know plenty."
His voice had lost its earlier boisterousness, gaining a deeper, appraising edge.
Garp almost blurted out that Marine justice served the people of the world, but at the last instant, he swallowed the words.
He recalled all he'd seen and endured in the Marines over the decades.
The shameful compromises made for the so-called World Nobles' dignity, the filthy deals hidden beneath the justice cape.
Hadn't he himself refused promotion to Admiral his whole life just to avoid becoming the Celestial Dragons' direct lapdog?
As he gave a long sigh, the crushing pressure he'd exuded melted away.
"Hah…"
Garp waved a hand, weariness and resignation on his face. He found he couldn't refute the young man.
"The East Blue really is too small."
He looked at Ryoma again, gaze softer now. "Whatever you choose to do later, remember: strength is everything. Without enough of it, you don't even get to pick your own path."
He straightened, an invisible weight spreading outward, and continued, "If you ever change your mind, the doors of Marines Headquarters will stay open for you."
Then his expression sharpened and he clenched his fist, knuckles cracking.
"Provided you don't go astray and become some murderous pirate. If you do, I will personally throw you into Impel Down."
The threat was obvious, yet Ryoma could sense more warning than malice in those sharp eyes—and a complicated hope.
"No way! I won't be a Marine! I'm gonna be the Pirate King!"
Just as the atmosphere turned a bit tense, the bruise-headed Luffy popped up at the worst possible moment. He couldn't follow the grown-ups' convoluted talk, but he'd caught the key word and bellowed his dream at the top of his lungs.
"You little brat! How dare you say that aloud!"
Garp's fury ignited and the little shred of elder dignity he'd just shown Ryoma evaporated in an instant.
He shot forward and pummelled Luffy's head with another tempest of fists.
Bam!
Another crisp, resounding Fist of Love.
"Waaaah! It hurts! Stop hitting me!"
Luffy's shriek once again echoed through the forest.
Watching the grandpa-grandson duo restart their "affectionate" routine, Ryoma decided this was no place to linger.
He'd achieved his goal, he'd seen child Luffy and even gauged Garp's stance. Time to leave.
"Garp-san, since everything's settled, I'll take my leave."
Ryoma cut short the one-sided beating, cupped a polite fist, and prepared to continue his training journey.
While pinching Luffy's cheeks and stretching them sideways, Garp answered without turning around, "Mm, off you go."
He paused, then added as if something had just occurred to him, "Kid, a word of warning. The Grand Line, especially the back half they call the New World, is deep water. Don't lean too hard on your Devil Fruit, that thing isn't invincible."
Ryoma's step faltered and he realized Garp had firmly pegged him as a Logia user. He didn't care, nor did he bother correcting the mistake.
"Thanks for the advice."
He nodded in gratitude, about to spin on his heel and vanish by magic, when Garp called him back again.
"Hold it!"
Ryoma turned, puzzled.
Garp had released the half-unconscious Luffy, whose eyes were rolling. He slowly raised both fists and held them before Ryoma.
In the next instant, his two fists were visibly cloaked in a deep, dark sheen, turning hard as iron and black as ink. The aura was denser and purer than when he'd smashed Luffy, letting Ryoma feel the true nature of that power.
"Look closely—this is Armament Haki." Garp's voice was steady and powerful.
"You've got talent, kid. You can already sense Haki. Next step, try to wrap it."
"Coat any part of your body, even your weapons, to boost attack and defense. Pull that off and you're a beginner."
Garp paused, his dark fist flexing slightly to show how the power could flow.
"But mastering that wrap takes long practice. After that comes flow—emitting Haki outside your body. And the higher level of internal destruction. None of that can be learned quickly, so I'll spare you the details today."
The moment the words left his mouth, Garp flickered and stood right in front of Ryoma.
Instinctively Ryoma tried to step back, but an invisible pressure locked him in place.
Garp raised his Armament Haki-clad fist and, seemingly gently, tapped Ryoma on the head.
Thud!
"Tss—!"
Ryoma hissed in pain, stars bursting before his eyes. He clutched his head as a fresh lump swelled at visible speed.
In the end, he still couldn't dodge the old man's fist.
Yet, beyond the pain, a strange sensation burned itself into his senses. He could feel the condensed Haki pierce his magical outer defense and strike his body directly.
So that's it… this is Armament Haki.
Enduring the agony, Ryoma savoured the remnant sensation, then bowed deeply to Garp from the heart.
"Thank you for the guidance."
This time, he was genuinely convinced.
Garp lowered his fist, glanced at the lump on Ryoma's head, and grinned in satisfaction, white teeth flashing.
Ryoma straightened and left without another word.
Under the bright sun, his body turned translucent, then dissolved into countless glittering ice crystal motes that the mountain breeze scattered into the depths of the jungle.
Only Garp and the still-whimpering Luffy, rubbing his swollen head, remained.
Garp stared after Ryoma, adjusted his dog-head cap and muttered under his breath, "Hmph, another troublesome brat…"
He paused, then something seemed to amuse him and a meaningful grin spread across his face.
"Still, that boy Kuzan might find him interesting."