Chapter Text
There is no greater dilemma to a man than what the world says is right and what his heart says is right, and as people ran into the comfort of their homes, behind doors that would be kicked down anyway, all through the song of horror that was screaming and crying, Garp knew this incredibly well.
He sauntered through the street set aflame by protests and fighting, and noticed a woman sprinting towards a hill, where a house he hardly noticed stood timidly in the shadows of the trees, overlooking the mayhem.
The marines were on that island for only one reason, really, and he found it to be a stupid one, but this wasn’t the first time these people with justice sewn into their backs were on the hunt for a child and he knew it.
A child that could copy powers — now that was a new one.
Most children are hunted for their lineage, their knowledge, but this one just committed the crime of being born with the wrong genes.
Garp approached the house and was soon greeted by a woman raising a small knife, aiming nowhere in particular except for his large figure, and he grabbed her by her wrist. “I’m not here to—”
He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before she dropped to the ground, the only thing preventing her from tasting the dirt being the fact that he still had her held by the wrist. It was when the knife she held dropped along with her that he saw the blood dripping from her stomach.
He gently placed her down onto the ground and placed two fingers at her neck, where her pulse was meant to be, but there was no thrum beneath his fingertips — he was holding a dead woman.
Trying not to shudder from the chill that went down his back, he stepped into the house, which was dim except for the lanterns within — they were all floating.
He had heard of the child that copied powers from marines who had chased a pirate all the way to the island. The pirate took the girl hostage and it was then and there that it was revealed that the little girl could copy powers, as both her and the pirate flew ten feet into the air.
A child, around the age of his grandson, sat in the middle of the floating lights, sobbing quietly.
“Hey,” he said gruffly, earning a surprised yelp, causing all the lanterns to drop and shatter onto the ground.
She stood, standing at just about the height of his legs, and she looked at him with wide and fearful eyes. “Who…”
When he met her innocent gaze, Garp quickly made a decision. It was rash, but he didn’t mind being rash if it meant that the little girl before him would live.
“Alright, listen.” He knelt down. “There’s some dangerous people here. They’re all out to get you. I’m here to bring you to safety.”
She looked at him with scrutinizing eyes. “My mom said not to leave the house.”
He sighed. “I’m kind of your last hope here. I guess this uniform doesn’t mean much to the people around here, but…” He sighed again, heavier this time. “Stay here. I’ll come get you after. Don’t go out with anyone else.”
“Why should I go out with you?”
“Because at this point, I’m all you’ve got.” He saw fear fill her eyes again and he hesitated before adding, “I have two grandsons. About the same age as you. They can be something you’ve got, too.”
It was clear that this child was lonely, starved of something that couldn’t be physically given. He knew this because she nodded, and he knew this because after an entire day, she was still in her house, in the presence of broken lanterns.
What a shame it was to be Y/N L/N, a child born with the power to copy.