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Garp was retired, on paper, and only acted as an instructor for recruits and his protégées. Considering his expertise and skill, however, he still got asked to do a mission now and again. Also, the Marine Upper Brass was quite short on skilled personnel at this point. Today, he was tasked to supervise a top secret weapons test. One of his protégées, Koby, was standing nervously beside him on the dock as they waited for the arrival of the weapons. The boy had his own mission to go to but he insisted on seeing him off. Garp doubted the mission would be anything strenuous, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless.
Top secret could mean a lot of things, but in this case, it was very much on the ‘top’ side, considering there were several Cipher Pol members present to watch over the proceedings. Garp was unperturbed by the tension in the air, munching on mouthfuls of rice crackers from a bag in his hand. Finally, the transport ship arrived. The first off the ship were more Cipher Pol members who went to confer with their fellows, while sailors carried supplies back and forth. Koby was paying close attention, wondering if this or that were the weapons, but Garp watched with disinterest.
All he had been told was that the weapons were meant to replace the Warlord system. With that in mind, it quickly became clear when the actual weapons came into view. Koby gasped and even Garp dropped his bag of crackers. The first thought was that they looked like children. It was very incongruent with the expectation of… well, weapons. Especially weapons handled by Cipher Pol. Even Koby muttered quietly, “But they’re kids…” That was until the second thought caught up. Their cherubic look was rather dispelled by the fact they looked unmistakably like young versions of three of the most dangerous Warlords; Dracule Mihawk, Donquixote Doflamingo and Sir Crocodile.
Garp may not know how such a thing was possible, but he knew why; and he had been in the Marines long enough to know not to ask questions. Koby was starting to learn, but he was still struggling. To his credit, the boy remained quiet but glowered at the higher-ranking Cipher Pol member that approached them. The Cipher Pol member ignored him in favour of addressing Garp. “Vice Admir-“
“No longer that,” Garp grumbled between bites of crackers.
The officer looked off-put for a moment, and obviously seemed to dislike not using a rank, but continued. “Mister… Garp. Sir. You will still be recognised as the highest authority during the mission by the Seraphim units, so you will command them. However, be aware that one of the Cipher Pol members,” he disinclined to state which one, “will have the authority chip that can overwrite that.” A silent threat of ‘don’t think about messing around’ was left unsaid.
“Understood,” Garp said simply. As Cipher Pol ordered the Seraphim to board the Marine ship, they looked like drones to him. He sighed to himself and looked at Koby. “I’ll be off then, good luck on your mission.” He gave Koby a jovial pat on the head before boarding the ship, alleviating his mood a little from the boy’s fluster.
The Marines on the ship saluted Garp before hurrying off to do their tasks to set sail, leaving him alone with the strange weapons. Garp led them to the quiet foredeck and settled down to watch them. “At ease,” he said, more out of habit than anything else. It was like hitting a switch. Being relieved of their command, they went from automatons to… well, normal. They still looked the same, with the wings, dark skin, flame on their back and their unsettling resemblance to the Warlords, but their demeanour was that of bored kids.
S-Flamingo had a smile that still looked innocent on a child’s face while he played with strings between his splayed fingers, creating different shapes. The others watched his creations with varying interest before wandering off to find something else. S-Crocodile approached the bow and stared at the dolphins and seagulls riding the waves in front of the ship. S-Hawk seemed to want to pretend to be cool and serious; and tried to meditate next to Garp’s seat but he struggled with the eternal impatience of the young. Garp noted his muscles kept twitching like he needed to find something to do.
Garp realised he could order them to sit down and be still. It was what Cipher Pol appeared to have done, he thought, remembering how drone-like their movements and demeanour had been previously. The thought made him feel sick in his stomach. It didn’t matter that they were weapons created in a lab, or that they were made in the likeness of the hated Warlords. Right now, they were just kids…
He nodded resolved to himself. “Hey kids, wait here for a moment for me.” As one, they looked at him, a hint of confusion passing over their faces. It wasn’t the kind of order, or phrasing of one, that they were used to. No matter. Garp quickly went to find the thing he was looking for. A couple of minutes later, he found the kids waiting in place for him where he left them. It was still a little uncanny. “I got you something,” he said, holding up a ball. They looked at it, confused, but waiting silently for elaboration from him.
Garp felt a pang at the thought that the kids should be bombarding him with questions if they were allowed to be kids. But then, their handlers wouldn’t have wanted that, would they? He sighed and put down the ball on the deck. “Here, you can pass the time with a little game. Just, er…” He looked around and pointed out two portholes. “Between those is the ‘goal’. You score a point by kicking the ball between them. Only use your feet to touch the ball, we’ll have to keep it on the ground because I wouldn’t want it to go sailing into the sea. We don’t have many balls around and I can’t go diving for it every time,” he finished explaining.
The Seraphim watched him curiously, then looked at the ball and tracked it as he lightly kicked it towards them. S-Hawk stopped the ball with his foot, considering it for a moment. When it was obvious to them that it was no threat, he followed the instruction and punted it into the wall between the portholes, leaving a massive dent. At least Garp saw it coming and caught the flying missile when it rebounded. “Good kick, but be gentle. It’s a game, not an exercise,” Garp said.
The Seraphim still eyed him warily while all three of them started to join in, first taking turns to kick the ball, before eventually they got the hang of turning it into an actual game.
Hearing one of them giggle, he wasn’t sure which one, struck Garp. The moment was overlaid by a memory from years ago, when three other boys played with each other, laughing without a care in the world. Allowed to be kids, even if only for that moment.
The old man swallowed a lump in his throat and was interrupted in his daydreaming when he felt the soft bounce of the ball against his leg. Garp looked down at it, and then at the three boys staring at him. Maybe it didn’t matter that they were made out of, and by, monsters, at least right now. Just for this moment, here and now, they were just kids. He smiled and kicked the ball, laughing as he joined their game.
What was the point of life, if not for those precious moments?