Chapter 3: The Boy With The Heart Of A Lion

The massive gates of Marineford loomed ahead, rising like a wall between heaven and earth. White seagull flags flapped proudly from the tallest towers, a symbol of peace... and power. Victor stood at the bow of the warship, fists clenched, eyes wide. This was it — the heart of the Marines. The place where legends were made.

As the ship docked, Marines on duty saluted Garp immediately. "Vice Admiral Garp, sir!"

"At ease," Garp barked with a grin, stepping off the ship. "I brought a special recruit."

Victor followed closely behind, his messy black hair blowing in the ocean wind, his small frame overshadowed by the tall soldiers surrounding him. Despite his size, no one could miss the fire in his pale blue eyes.

"This way, kid," Garp muttered, hands in his pockets.

They walked through the courtyards and great marble halls of Marineford. The very air felt heavy with discipline and purpose. Statues of great Marines lined the walls — Tsuru, Borsalino, Aokiji, even Garp himself.

"Someday," Victor whispered, "I'll be among them."

Garp's ear twitched, and he smirked.

Soon, they reached a massive door with a gold plate:

Fleet Admiral Sengoku

Without knocking, Garp pushed it open. "Sengoku! I'm back!"

Inside, the Fleet Admiral of the Marines stood behind a tall stack of paperwork, glasses perched on his nose, a seagull cooing quietly on his shoulder.

"Garp!" Sengoku's mustache twitched. "For the love of—CAN YOU KNOCK?!"

Garp laughed and stepped in. "No time for manners. Got someone you need to meet."

Victor stepped inside quietly, eyes darting across the room. Sengoku's sharp gaze instantly locked onto him.

"…a child?" Sengoku said, blinking. "Garp, what is this?"

"This," Garp said proudly, patting Victor's head, "is Leonhart D. Victor. Orphan. Survivor of the Eirene Island massacre. I found him the day after pirates wiped his entire village off the map."

Sengoku's expression darkened. "That… was a brutal incident."

Victor didn't flinch. "I remember every face they took away from me."

Sengoku raised an eyebrow. "And what's he doing here?"

Garp crossed his arms. "Training."

"You're joking."

"I never joke about justice." Garp looked down at Victor. "Tell him, kid."

Victor stepped forward, face firm. "I want to join the Marines. I want to protect the innocent. I want to be a hero."

There was no tremble in his voice. No fear. Just raw, unshakable conviction.

Sengoku sighed, rubbing his temples. "Garp… you're talking about enrolling an eight-year-old."

"He's tougher than half the rookies we get at sixteen," Garp replied. "Never complains. Works harder than anyone I've seen. He's got no Devil Fruit, no lineage, nothing but his fists and his will… but I swear on my name, this kid's gonna make waves."

Victor stepped forward again, looking Sengoku straight in the eye. "If I had power back then… even just a little… I could've saved them."

Sengoku saw it then — not just pain, not just grief — but purpose. The kind of fire that didn't go out with time. It only grew.

He exhaled. "You'll train under supervision. Special curriculum. No combat missions until you're of age. Understood?"

Victor saluted with all the discipline he could muster. "Yes, sir!"

Sengoku narrowed his eyes. "You really want to be a Marine?"

"I don't want to be just a Marine," Victor said. "I want to be the kind of man others look up to. The symbol of peace — the shield that stands between the strong and the weak."

For a moment, Sengoku saw someone else in that pose — another smiling idiot with a dream far too big for the world to contain.

"…fine," Sengoku said at last. "You've got one shot, Garp. One."

Garp smirked. "That's all he needs."

As they walked out of the office, Garp nudged Victor's shoulder. "You did good, kid."

Victor looked up. "So… where do I start?"

Garp grinned like a madman. "With more push-ups, of course!"

Victor groaned faintly — but his eyes lit up with determination all the same.

And from the window of the Fleet Admiral's office, Sengoku watched the boy disappear down the hallway, the corners of his lips tugging upward.

"A lion cub," he murmured, "raised by a mad dog…"

He looked at the seagull on his shoulder.

"…this'll be interesting."

After the meeting with Fleet Admiral Sengoku, it was decided Victor would live in Garp's personal quarters within Marineford until he was old enough to officially join the recruit camp. Garp, being Garp, didn't even wait for formal arrangements to be made. With a loud "Let's go, kid!" he marched out of the office, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, Victor trailing just behind him, soaking in every detail of the great fortress that would become his home.

The sun cast a golden light over Marineford's courtyard as they walked past rows of saluting Marines, tall watchtowers, and the ever-present crash of the sea beyond the horizon. Everything here screamed power, duty, and responsibility.

As they turned a corner toward Garp's living quarters, a graceful yet commanding figure approached from the opposite direction.

"Yo, Tsuru!" Garp called out, grinning as he waved.

Victor stopped in his tracks. The woman radiated calm authority. Her long gray hair was tied neatly, and despite her age, her eyes were sharp as steel. This was Vice Admiral Tsuru, the famed tactician of the Marines — a living legend in her own right.

"Garp," she said coolly, nodding before her gaze landed on Victor.

"This the boy?" she asked.

Garp placed a hand on Victor's shoulder with pride. "Yep. Leonhart D. Victor. Survivor from Eirene. Got the spirit of a lion, this one."

Victor stood straight, meeting her eyes despite the nerves coiling in his chest.

"Ma'am," he said, voice strong.

Tsuru studied him for a long second, then knelt slightly so she could speak at eye level. Her voice, while soft, held the weight of someone who had seen too many tragedies.

"Victor," she began, "I heard what happened to your island. No child should ever witness such things… and no child should have to carry the burden of surviving it."

Victor's jaw tightened.

She continued, her expression gentle but firm. "Garp might teach you how to fight. The Marines might teach you discipline. But there's something you must never forget."

He leaned in slightly, listening.

"If you have to save someone, it means they've been through something terrifying. They'll be scared… shaken… maybe even broken. You won't just be saving a life — you'll be saving their heart too. And that takes more strength than fists or swords ever will."

"You know what I think?" Tsuru added with a small smile. "No matter how scared you are… you should smile. To show others that everything will be okay."

Her fingers brushed under his chin, gently lifting his face. "In this world the ones always smiling , are the ones who are the strongest."

Victor didn't speak, but his eyes shimmered with quiet emotion. He nodded, deeply.

Tsuru stood and gave Garp a knowing look. "Raise him well, Dog."

"Che! I always do," Garp huffed.

As they continued on their way, Victor looked up at the setting sun, Tsuru's words still echoing in his heart.

"Smile, even when you're scared."

That night, in the spartan yet cozy quarters of the Hero of the Marines, Victor sat alone by the window. He remembered Shimura's voice, the screams, the fire… and Tsuru's warmth.

He looked at his reflection in the glass — bruised, thin, scarred — and forced a smile.

It was small… it was shaky…

But it was a beginning.

And one day, that smile would become the very symbol of hope the world needed.