One Piece : Brotherhood Chapter 433

Foosha Village, East Blue

The wind roared through the forest, tearing branches from the trees and sending them crashing to the ground like brittle twigs. The sheer force of it howled in my ears, but I barely noticed. My focus was on him.

Monkey D. Garp.

He stood like an immovable boulder, feet planted firmly, fists clenched at his sides. He had faced monsters, legends, and warlords in his ti—but right now, for the first ti in my life, I saw sothing rare in his face. Shock.

Not because of —though seeing alive after the incident at Sabaody should’ve been enough to rattle him. No, what truly left him speechless was Dragon. The son he had given up on. The man who had abandoned the Marines.

And the leader of the Revolutionary Army, standing before him now, carrying a child in his arms.

Garp hadn’t put it together yet. Not fully. But he would. I let out a breath and forced a grin, trying to break the tension—if only for myself.

"Oh, don’t mind . I’m just here to visit Ace and Rouge-san... You guys carry on, whatever that is you wish to discuss."

As I spoke, I gently took Luffy from Dragon’s hand, who handed him over as I moved to the side while tickling Luffy, earning another round of giggles from the little ball of energy in my hands. His innocent laughter rang through the clearing, oblivious to the storm brewing around him. But Garp wasn’t looking at Luffy.

His sharp, battle-hardened eyes were locked onto , scanning in a way that sent a chill down my spine. For a mont—just a mont—I saw it. Relief. He was glad I was alive. He wouldn’t say it. He wouldn’t admit it. But I knew.

And then, just as quickly, his expression hardened. That mont of warmth vanished, buried beneath sothing colder. Caution. He could feel it. The difference in since the last ti we faced each other.

Garp wasn’t just any warrior—he was one of the strongest n alive, a legend who had stood at the peak for decades. He knew what it took to gain real power, how impossible it was to climb higher after a certain point.

Yet here I was. Alive. Stronger than before. And standing beside his son. I could see the question in his eyes. How? But he pushed that thought aside. For now. Because there was sothing more pressing standing right in front of him.

Dragon.

If my survival was a pleasant surprise , then his son’s arrival was an unexpected shock. Garp had never truly forgiven Dragon for turning his back on everything. He had accepted his son’s choice, but he had never let it go. Dragon had walked away from the Marines, abandoned the ideals Garp had tried to instill in him, and now led the very force that sought to destroy the World Governnt.

And now, after all these years, he had returned. Carrying a baby. Garp’s brows furrowed. His jaw clenched. The realization hadn’t hit him yet. But when it did...

"Brat..." His voice rumbled like distant thunder. His fists flexed, his knuckles cracking under the pressure. "Why are you here? Have you really grown so complacent, thinking I wouldn’t beat you down and throw you into a damn cell?"

His words carried the force of a storm, but I could hear what lurked beneath them. There was no true anger. Not yet. Dragon t his father’s gaze, unreadable as ever. The wind tugged at his cloak, and he let out a slow, asured breath before finally speaking.

"It’s good to see you too, old man."

His tone was flat. Devoid of emotion. But the weight of history between them hung thick in the air.

I didn’t pry into the conversation between father and son. So things weren’t ant to be overheard, and whatever passed between them was theirs alone to settle. But after nearly half an hour of tense discussion, Dragon finally departed from Foosha Village, his heavy cloak billowing in the wind as he disappeared into the horizon.

I knew, even without hearing their words, that he left with the full realization that this might be the last ti he saw his son for a very long ti. The World Governnt wouldn’t sit idly by if they ever caught wind of Luffy’s true identity. No, they’d co for him—without hesitation.

After all, getting Luffy under their control would be an absolute trump card—a weapon that could be used against both Garp and Dragon. And for a force as ruthless as the World Governnt, a child was nothing more than a pawn in their greater ga.

I also had no doubt that before leaving, Dragon had warned Garp about . He may have trusted enough to know Luffy’s identity, but that didn’t an he trusted entirely. Our ideals clashed too violently, and even though we now stood on opposite sides, it was inevitable that one day—sooner or later—we would face off.

At least in Dragon’s eyes, the Donquixote family, especially , was a threat equal to, if not worse than, the World Governnt itself. Seated within Garp’s modest ho, I watched as the old man rubbed his temples, struggling to wrap his head around everything that had transpired today.

Across the room, Little Ace was doing his best to create an impression on Little Luffy. He had just gained a little brother, and he had already decided—with all the confidence of a four-year-old—that he would be Luffy’s protector, his teacher, his guide.

Yet, despite all his enthusiasm, Ace kept sneaking glances at , his curiosity barely contained as I happily dug into the apple pie Rouge-san had graciously offered . For Ace, this was the first ti eting . Rouge, however, knew exactly who I was.

After all, it was with Mansherry’s help that she had survived giving birth to Ace. Among the select few who knew the truth about Ace’s identity, I was one of them. And she had never forgotten what Roger had once told her in his final years—that one day, a boy would co who would truly change the world. Rouge believed in what Roger told her with all her heart.

So, as Ace sat there, staring at the small bundle of energy that was Luffy, a strange, almost unexplainable feeling took root inside him. Sothing innate. Sothing that whispered in his soul. He wanted to protect him. Ace couldn’t hold back anymore. The curiosity was killing him.

"Garp-jiji... what’s his na?" Ace blurted out, eyes wide with excitent.

Silence.

Garp, still lost in thought, blinked as if just realizing the boy had spoken.

"Eh... what...?"

Ace stared. Bogard stared. Even Rouge san looked eagerly. I stopped mid-bite, suddenly very interested in what was about to unfold. A long, painful pause stretched across the room. Then—realization dawned on all of us at the sa ti.

Garp had forgotten to ask his own grandson’s na. The legendary Marine Hero, the man who cornered the Pirate King himself, the man who had fought side by side with so of history’s strongest warriors—had not thought to ask for his own flesh and blood’s na.

Bogard, ever the silent observer, let out a deep sigh and shook his head.

I, on the other hand, nearly choked on my pie trying not to laugh. Garp, now realizing the massive hole in his own mory, guffawed loudly, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

"Bwahahaha! Maybe he ntioned it? Maybe I forgot?!" He squinted hard, as if forcing himself to recall sothing that had never actually happened. Bogard looked at . I looked at Luffy, who was now happily clinging onto Ace like a baby monkey. I sighed dramatically and put my fork down, watching as all eyes in the room turned toward .

Taking a deep breath, I leaned back in my chair, savoring the weight of the mont. Then, with a chuckle, I finally answered:

"Luffy... Monkey D. Luffy."

Silence. The na settled over the room, its significance known only to —because in a different lifeti, in a world I could barely begin to explain, this na had moved the hearts of billions.

As Garp and the others took a mont to register the na, I simply picked up my fork, took another bite of pie, and smirked. They had no idea what this kid would beco. Not yet.

But one day, they would. One day, the whole world would. And when that day ca... Even the gods wouldn’t be able to stop Monkey D. Luffy.

"Would you like so more?" Rouge-san asked with a warm smile, noticing that I had completely cleared my plate. Without hesitation, I grinned and passed the empty dish forward, signaling for a refill. "Of course! How could I refuse such divine hospitality?"

As she left to get another serving, I turned my attention toward Garp, whose face was still twisted in deep thought.

"So, Garp-san," I started, leaning back casually. "Are you planning to take care of little Luffy all by yourself?"

The old man grunted, eyeing with suspicion. I continued, flashing a knowing smile. "I can’t help but worry about the child’s safety. If you’d like, I could take him and raise him with the Donquixote family. After all, we’re quite experienced when it cos to raising children—"

WHAM!

Before I could finish, an empty mug flew straight at my face. Without missing a beat, I casually caught it mid-air.

I chuckled. "Ah, is that supposed to be a no?"

Garp fud, veins bulging on his forehead. He was seriously considering whether he should have killed back in Sabaody when he had the chance. He was already regretting letting live long enough to even suggest corrupting his grandson. Before he could start swinging fists, Rouge-san returned, gracefully placing another generous serving of pie in front of .

"You don’t have to worry about that, Rosinante," she said with a gentle yet firm voice. "I’ll take care of little Luffy as my own."

Then, she turned to Garp, her eyes filled with sothing close to a plea.

"I’m sure no one has a problem with that... right?"

Her words hung in the air, unspoken yet clear. This was her way of repaying Garp—for risking everything to keep her and Ace safe. And beyond that, seeing how attached Ace was to Luffy, she couldn’t bear to separate them.

Besides... there was no way in hell she was letting Luffy stay under Garp’s care. Because she knew exactly what would happen. Before the day was even over, Garp would march straight to the bandit hideout next door, find Dadan, and shove the child into her arms—just as he had done with herself and Ace.

And while Rouge liked Dadan and the rest of her bandits... A nest of bandits was no place for a baby to grow up. A warm ho with a loving family—that’s what Luffy needed. I wiped my mouth with a napkin and smirked. "Well, if you’re so worried about separating them... I can take both Ace and Luffy with !"

A slow, wicked smile stretched across my face as I tossed out the offer—just for fun. The room went dead silent. A heavy pressure filled the air. I could literally feel Garp’s glare drilling into my soul, but what surprised even more was the hint of hostility I sensed from Rouge-san. Her warm deanor had vanished—replaced by sothing almost dangerous.

Ah. I had grossly miscalculated. Garp cracked his knuckles, snorting. "Boy, you better drop whatever stupid ideas are running through that head of yours about my grandsons."

Then, with a smug grin, he added, "Besides... who knows? Maybe one day, under my guidance, they’ll beco Marines—and they’ll be the ones to catch you!"

I leaned forward, locking eyes with him, my smirk never faltering.

"So, you’re admitting that you no longer stand a chance against in a fight, Garp-sensei?"

BOOM.

I could see the exact mont his brain short-circuited from rage. His entire face turned red as a tomato.

"You brat—!" He shot up from his seat, rolling up his sleeves. "I almost felt pity for beating you to the brink of death last ti at Sabaody! But clearly, that lesson wasn’t enough! Co on—let’s settle this right now!"

Ace, anwhile, quickly shielded Luffy in his tiny arms, thinking we were actually about to start a full-blown brawl in the middle of the house. Bogard, ever the voice of reason, sighed heavily.

"That’s enough. Wind it down, both of you," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "You’re scaring the children. If you want to tear each other apart, do it on so remote island, far, far away from here."

Garp grumbled but reluctantly sat back down, still shooting dirty looks. Just then, the front door creaked open. Standing in the doorway was Dadan, followed by one of her bandits. Rouge froze, her expression darkening instantly. Slowly, she turned to Garp with a glower that could turn n to stone. She had been right. Garp had already planned to leave Luffy with Dadan.

Unbelievable.

The old Marine whistled innocently, pretending not to notice the deadly aura radiating from Rouge. Then, as if nothing was wrong at all, he grabbed Dadan by the collar and dragged her inside.

"Oi, oi! What the hell—?!" Dadan yelped, flailing. Garp planted her firmly in front of the cradle and pointed.

"Dadan! et my grandson!" he declared proudly. Dadan blinked. Then blinked again. She stared at the tiny baby, then at Ace, then at Rouge (who was still glaring daggers at her), and then finally at , who was happily digging into another slice of pie without a care in the world. Her mind short-circuited.

"What... the hell is going on here!?" she finally shouted, waving her hands.

I raised my fork. "Ah, you’re finally here? Took you long enough." Her eye twitched.

"Who... who the hell are you?!" she demanded.

I swallowed my bite, wiped my mouth, and flashed her my best gentlemanly smile.

"?" I pointed at myself. "Just a humble pie enthusiast, enjoying the chaos."

Dadan gawked at . Rouge continued to stare her down like she was plotting her demise. Ace was still clinging protectively to Luffy like a mother hen. And Garp? Garp was grinning ear to ear, completely unbothered. For the first ti in a long, long ti, I genuinely wondered—

How the hell did I end up in this circus? And more importantly... Would Rouge-san let have one more slice of pie before all hell broke loose?

****

The sun hung low over Dressrosa’s rolling hills, casting golden light over a secluded training ground nestled between towering cliffs. The once-proud retainer Denjiro stood firm, his piercing eyes locked onto the small figure before him—Kozuki Hiyori, a child of only seven, wielding a sword far too large for her delicate hands.

She moved with fierce determination, mimicking his every motion, her tiny fra struggling to keep up with his precision. Sweat dripped from her brow, her breathing ragged, but her gaze burned with unyielding resolve.

"Faster, Hiyori-sama!" Denjiro barked, his voice cutting through the crisp evening air.

She stumbled slightly, her footing faltering under the strain of relentless repetition, but she did not yield. Denjiro knew he was pushing her beyond her limits. But ti was a luxury they could not afford.

It had been more than a year since they had fled the burning ruins of Wano, seeking asylum in Dressrosa after the fall of Lord Oden. And with each passing day, the flas of vengeance burned hotter, fueled by the ghosts of the past and the promise of retribution in twenty years.

It was this promise that kept Denjiro going. This, and nothing else. Hiyori clenched her teeth, tightening her grip on the sword. She raised it high above her head, mirroring Denjiro’s stance—a stance her father once took in battle. Denjiro watched her closely.

He was not an easy teacher. His once warm and noble heart had long been hardened by grief and fury. His once handso face—now worn with shadows under his eyes—spoke of countless sleepless nights spent haunted by Oden’s execution. He had kept secrets even from his allies.

Not even the Donquixote family knew that Toki-sama still lived... or that so of Oden’s retainers had been flung into the future to fulfill their destiny. This burden was his alone to bear. But Hiyori—his lord’s only daughter—would not be weak. She would not be helpless.

She would stand strong. And when the ti ca, she would hold a blade in her hands and fight for Wano’s dawn.

"Hiyori-sama," Denjiro said, his voice steady, eyes sharp as a blade. "Again." She took a deep breath, her small chest rising and falling.

While Hiyori and Denjiro were imrsed in their relentless training, a small group of children approached the training ground from a distance. Leading them was a blind swordsman, his steady steps barely making a sound against the stone path. Though sightless, he moved with an air of quiet authority, his cane tapping gently against the ground.

"Is that her, Issho-sensei?" a young girl asked, her voice filled with curiosity and sothing deeper—recognition.

This was Yamato. She was taller than most children her age, her silver-white hair tied up in a high ponytail, with two curved horns jutting from her head—a mark of the bloodline she despised. Her fiery spirit burned in her striking golden eyes, yet there was a newfound discipline in her stance, a contrast to the wild fury that had once consud her.

She had endured countless trials and turmoils, braving chains and solitude, beatings and betrayals—but those dark days were behind her now. She had found a haven within the Donquixote family, a place where she was not Kaido’s child, but simply Yamato.

Though she had yet to et the spiritual ntor she idolized, she had co to accept Dressrosa as her true ho. And she knew that almost everyone here hated Kaido as much as she did. Perhaps—even more.

Beside her stood several children, all mbers of the Donquixote family: Reiju, Anya, Buffalo and Robin.

Yamato had only recently learned of Hiyori’s true identity. She had been told Denjiro and the girl kept to themselves, their days spent in silent mourning, their nights filled with whispered prayers for a vengeance long in the making. And as she watched Hiyori swing her sword with raw, desperate fury, she recognized sothing all too familiar.

She saw herself—the way she had been when she first arrived in Dressrosa. Consud by hatred. Blinded by vengeance. Unable to distinguish friend from foe. Back then, she had been nothing but a storm waiting to break—a child wielding rage as a weapon, swinging at shadows, seeing enemies in everyone.

Until Issho had intervened. The blind swordsman had tad the fire within her, shaping her fury into discipline, teaching her how to wield not just a blade—but restraint. Her hatred for Kaido had not diminished—but she had learned how to control it. And now, looking at Denjiro and Hiyori, she saw what Issho had seen in her back then.

A storm on the verge of breaking. Issho, standing at her side, could not see as others did—but he could feel. The air around the training ground crackled with emotion—rage, grief, desperation. Denjiro and the girl were letting their hatred consu them.

And if left unchecked—that hatred would one day consu them whole. The swordsman let out a deep sigh.

"You kids wait here," Issho said gently.

Guiding them to an iron bench beneath the shade of an old tree, he turned away and began walking toward the training ground—toward Denjiro and Hiyori. His cane tapped against the earth with a steady rhythm. And with every step, the air seed to shift.

The blind swordsman had co to do what he did best— Intervene before it was too late.