The snow had barely stopped falling when Garp's boot landed on the dock, steel-toed and heavy as history.
Jin stood waiting, violet eyes steady, black coat dusted white. His breath rose in quiet puffs; inside, blood drummed like war drums.
Garp's gaze lingered, brow furrowed. For a heartbeat, something flickered—recognition? Regret?
Jin broke the silence first. "Seems you're trying to remember, Garp-san. Fine. I'll help: I'm Jin… son of Ryu Akasa."
The old man's eyes widened. "What?!"
Garp stepped forward in two great strides, hand clamping Jin's shoulder—iron grip, yet trembling.
"Your father—where the hell is he?! I searched the currents for three fucking years after that storm, but… nothing. Not a damn trace!"
Jin let the question hang a moment. That grip told him more than words: grief, guilt, love all twisted into calloused flesh.
"He's dead," Jin said, voice flat. "Torn apart by the storm saving me. I washed up half-alive on some nameless rock."
Garp froze. The iron in his hand slackened. "Dead… huh. Damn it all."
For a moment, the old hero stood there, sea wind tugging at his coat, face lined with every scar the years had carved into him. Then he drew in a breath and mastered it—like a man closing a heavy door on old ghosts.
"Well… we all go sometime," Garp muttered. "Your father was a hell of a man. You surviving? That says plenty."
Jin's jaw tightened. "Yeah. Been surviving ever since."
From the corner, Makino stepped close, slipping her hand into his. "Garp-san," she offered softly, "this is my… boyfriend. He's strong—and stubborn as hell."
For the first time in minutes, Jin's mouth twitched. "Tch. She said it, not me."
Garp barked out a laugh, rough as gravel. "Ha! So the brat's got game too. Your old man would've bragged for months."
They stood there, three silhouettes framed by drifting snow—past, present, and future caught in a single frozen breath.
That night the bar roared alive. Marines on leave, villagers leaning in close. Jin and Makino moved behind the counter, dodging elbows, catching coins mid-air.
Every so often, Jin's gaze cut across the crowd to Garp, seated near the hearth, laughing so loud the beams above shook.
So this is the man they call hero, Jin thought. Not some statue of justice. Just a stubborn old bastard who laughs too loud and grieves too deep.
Moon climbed higher. Snow turned silver.
Outside, Garp walked the quiet road back to his warship, Luffy dozing in his arms. Halfway to the pier, he stopped—hackles prickling.
Jin stood there, breath smoking in the cold.
"You got something to say, kid?" Garp rumbled.
Jin stepped forward, boots crunching snow. Voice dropping to something older, rawer:
"Garp-san… I want to know how strong I really am. Will you test me?"
Garp's grin cracked like old oak. "Ha! Your father never had the balls to ask me that outright."
"Different fathers," Jin shot back. "Same stubborn blood."
Garp eased Luffy into a waiting sailor's arms, rolling his shoulders until the bones popped like old timber. "Fine then. Show me what the son of Ryu Akasa can do."
Far out at sea, moonlight splintered on black water.
Jin leapt from rooftop to mast, feet ghosting over air. Every step silent; every breath measured.
Behind him, Garp followed without hurry, boots crushing tiles to powder.
A mile offshore waited a forgotten island, ringed with ice-wet rock and twisted pines.
They landed opposite each other, boots biting into the frozen crust.
"剃 (Soru) and 月歩 (Geppo) both mastered, huh," Garp observed, half amused, half testing. "Not bad for a runt."
Jin shrugged off his weighted wristbands and greaves—two thousand jin each. They struck rock with dull thuds that cracked stone.
Garp's brow rose. "Training under constant weight? Your old man never bothered with that."
"He wasn't me," Jin answered.
Inside, his pulse roared: Fuck yes. Finally, the real measure.
Jin raised his fists, breath steaming. "I'm ready."
"Then come!" Garp barked.
Jin shot forward, Soru cracking earth behind him. His right fist blurred through air, fueled by caged ki.
Garp met it, old knuckles splitting wind.
BOOM.
The island rocked. Snow burst upward like steam. Jin's teeth rattled—but he didn't step back.
Without pause, he spun, left leg scything low: 竜脚 (Ryūkaku) – Dragon Leg!
Garp blocked with a forearm, boots skidding inches over frozen stone.
"You're faster than your father ever was," Garp grunted.
"And stronger," Jin snarled, violet eyes burning.
Punch, kick, elbow—each strike humming with inner force, old ki surging through bone and sinew. Snow melted under their heat.
But every blow struck a mountain named Garp.
Minutes blurred into a frenzy of breath and sweat.
Jin's ribs groaned, muscles burned. Frost bit his skin—but inside, something savage laughed: Fuck yes! This is why I live!
At last, Jin dropped back, chest heaving, blood in his spit.
Garp straightened, breath calm as dawn.
"Hah," Garp rumbled. "You've got your father's heart—and something else he never had."
Jin wiped his mouth, grin crooked and bloody. "Stubbornness?"
"Monstrous stubbornness," Garp corrected, showing every tooth. "Don't waste it."
The moon broke through scudding clouds, silvering broken stone and drifting snow.
And for the first time in years, Jin felt it: not just strength—but measure.
He knew how far he'd come—and how fucking far he still had to go.
This story is inspired from various fanfics i have read from around the world so if you find any similarities please dont mind . Thank you
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T/N :
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