One Piece: Holy Light Swordmaster

"Vice Admiral Garp has returned!"

This is the G-3 Branch of the Grand Line—overseen by none other than the Navy hero, "Iron Fist" Garp. Thanks to Garp's formidable strength and down-to-earth personality, the G-3 Branch is more renowned among the public than its sibling branches and boasts a more elite force—just ask a certain "punching bag" major.

At the G-3 Branch port, Garp's iconic dog-headed warship slowly docked. Standing at the bow were Garp, Bogard, and Wright. After over two months of "loitering" around Marineford, the persistent nagging of Fleet Admiral Sengoku had finally chased Garp back to the G-3 Branch to take charge.

"Ahahahaha! So, Wright, what do you think? Isn't my G-3 Branch magnificent?" Garp laughed heartily, folding his arms while the floppy ears on his dog-headed hat bounced with each laugh.

"Tch, old man," Wright scoffed, unimpressed. "After seeing Marineford, what branch could possibly claim to be 'magnificent'?"

Bang!

"Ow! Dammit, old man, not again!" Wright yelped, clutching his head.

"You brat! Your wings are getting strong, huh? Daring to undermine me like that!"

Beside them, Bogard let out a resigned sigh, black lines of exasperation faintly appearing on his usually stoic face. "Vice Admiral Garp, Major Wright, please try to maintain some decorum as we're about to disembark."

"Has Vice Admiral Garp ever cared about decorum?" Bogard thought silently. "As for Major Wright—he used to care back in the training camp. But after two months under Garp's fists, I just hope he can hold on to some shred of dignity."

"Ahem! Decorum! Pay attention to decorum, old man!"

Pulling his head out of the hole in the deck, Wright cast a quick Holy Light Technique on his swollen, pig-like face, instantly healing himself. With his face restored, he adjusted his clothes and hair, reverting to his refined, charming persona—a bit too much of a "prince of the mortal realm," if you asked him. Well, "just decently handsome" would suffice.

As for Garp, he couldn't care less about appearances. Everyone at the G-3 Branch knew his habits all too well.

After assigning Bogard to deal with the backlog of branch affairs, Garp led Wright to his office, ready to enter full slacker mode.

"Wright, you have no idea how much I've suffered..." Garp sighed dramatically, chomping on a donut—he seemed to favor these now, perhaps because he only enjoyed senbei when Sengoku was around.

"That bastard Roger! Even after his death, he can't rest in peace! One Piece? Really? Over the past three years, more pirates have set sail than in the past ten combined!"

"And Sengoku! That old bastard is even worse than Roger! He blames me for not attending Roger's execution, saying that's why Roger could spout such nonsense before his death. Now he's dumped the entire G-3 Branch on me without assigning a single rear admiral or commodore!"

"He says, 'Oh, Garp, you're so brilliant and powerful! You can handle this by yourself, no problem!' Bah! I fell for that old fox's lies! Now I can't even take a proper vacation in the East Blue without worrying!"

Wright listened, inwardly smirking. "Technically, Sengoku's not wrong. If you'd been at the execution and delivered one of your famous punches, Roger would've been too busy spitting teeth to say anything provocative. As for why you didn't go... Heh, I know, even if you don't think I do."

Sengoku truly lived up to his title of "The Strategist." With just a few words, he'd tied down Garp, forcing him to shoulder more responsibilities. After all, wasn't Garp the Navy's hero? A symbol of unparalleled strength and prestige? Surely, he could manage a branch solo while others dealt with the growing tide of pirates.

"So, old man, that's why you're so stingy about promoting your subordinates. You just want them stuck here, working for you at the G-3 Branch, huh?" Wright said with a sly grin, snatching one of Garp's donuts to taste. Not bad, but still inferior to Sengoku's preferred senbei.

"..."

Garp choked on his donut, his face turning beet red as he struggled to swallow. Finally recovering, he leapt three feet into the air.

"You little brat! Do you think I don't promote them because I'm selfish? My subordinates willingly stay here out of loyalty to my incredible charisma! Do you think I'm some petty man?!"

Wright gave him a look that clearly said, "Yes, I do." Garp nearly raised a fist again but restrained himself. Breaking things at Marineford or on a warship was fine since the Headquarters would foot the bill, but damaging the branch office? That came out of his own pocket. And he'd rather spend that money on donuts.

"Hmph!" Garp snorted, flopping back into his chair with a look that screamed, "I'm the bigger man here." "Since you've joined my G-3 Branch, Wright, you'd better get familiar with its operations quickly and start managing the place properly. Bogard will assist you."

"?"

Excuse me, what? A major managing an entire branch? Even if the branch lacked rear admirals or commodores, weren't there at least some lieutenant commanders or captains? And now I, a newly transferred major, am supposed to handle this?

Has Garp finally lost his mind?

"I know what you're thinking, brat," Garp said, waving dismissively. "From the moment I met you in the East Blue, I knew you weren't ordinary. Sengoku also sees great potential in you, which is why I sent you to the recruit training camp."

"Wait, it was Fleet Admiral Sengoku's arrangement?" Wright asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought it was you who pulled the strings, old man! Well, next time I visit Headquarters, I'll have to thank him properly. Now that is a leader who knows how to nurture talent. Unlike someone, hmph."

Bang!

This time, Garp couldn't hold back. Even with restrained strength, his fist landed squarely.

"You little punk! If I hadn't recommended you and trained you to unlock your potential, would Sengoku even care about you?!"

"Ow, ow, ow!"

Wright rubbed his head. Standard procedure. Nothing new. "Zephyr-sensei taught me more patiently than you! At least he only hit me when I actually deserved it. You're just unreasonable!"

"Ahahahaha!" Garp burst into laughter. "Zephyr's been an instructor too long—he's gone soft! Me? I'll train you every chance I get to make sure you become a powerful marine! Ahahaha!"

"Is 'because my fist is stronger than yours' a good enough reason? Ahahaha!"

"..."

Damn it. The old man actually made a good point. I have no rebuttal.

...

When the strongest person around insists, you have no choice but to comply. And so, Wright's days at the G-3 Branch began.

Just kidding. No way would he settle for a mundane routine of "eat, sleep, and get punched by Garp."

Garp handed Wright a grueling daily schedule:

6:00 AM: Wake up, handle personal matters, eat breakfast, and jog for half an hour.

7:00–10:00 AM: Patrol at sea for three hours.

10:00 AM–12:00 PM: Two hours of physical training.

12:00–1:00 PM: Lunch and relaxation.

1:00–3:00 PM: Meditation training to replace a nap.

3:00–6:00 PM: Sparring with Garp for three hours.

6:00–7:00 PM: Dinner and relaxation.

7:00–10:00 PM: Study combat theory, military strategy, and branch management for three hours.

10:00 PM: Lights out.

This schedule was even more packed than his days at the training camp! 

-----------------------------

If you want to support me and read advance chapters, please visit:

patreon.com / juanpiece