Chapter 1: The Rhythm of the Heart
The halls of Shizuoka General Hospital were built for silence, white-tiled and clinical, designed to contain the quiet anxieties of life and death. But the Monkey family don't do "quiet."
Monkey D. Garp was currently attempting to sit in a waiting room chair. It was his third chair of the hour; the previous two had succumbed to the sheer tension radiating from the man's massive frame. As a high-ranking official within the Hero Ministry, Garp had faced down city-level threats and villain syndicates without breaking a sweat, but the sound of his daughter-in-law's muffled shouts from behind the delivery room doors was doing what no villain could. It was making him vibrate with nerves.
"Garp-san, this is your third chair you know. Please try not to break this one!! .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·." an enthusiastic and anxious voice drifted from the corner.
A short woman was walking down the hallway, the one who was assigned to the room Garp is waiting outside of. Along with him was Dragon, who looked less like a man awaiting a child and more like a storm front held in a human container. His eyes were fixed on the door, sharp and analytical, yet there was a tightening around his jaw that betrayed him.
"So what, I can just pay for it!" Garp barked, though he lowered his voice to a low rumble. "This is a monumental occasion! A new generation of the Monkey bloodline! I already cant wait to train the kid, he better be strong enough to handle it" joked Garp.
"He'll be whatever he is," Dragon replied coolly, though his hand drifted to a small, framed photo in his pocket—a picture of a woman with a smile so bright it seemed to bleed through the camera lens.
Suddenly, the doors swung open. A nurse stepped out, looking slightly frazzled. "Commander Garp? Mr. Dragon? You can come in now."
The room inside was filled with the smell of antiseptic and the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. In the center of the bed sat Sora. Her hair was a mess, matted with sweat, and her breath was still coming in shallow hitches, but the moment the men entered, she turned toward them.
She wasn't crying. She was beaming.
"Look," she whispered, her voice like a song. "Look at him."
In her arms lay a small, swaddled bundle. The infant wasn't screaming the way most newborns did. He was making a soft, rhythmic hic sound, his tiny chest bouncing with a strange, innate energy.
Garp stomped over, his heavy boots thudding on the linoleum. He leaned over, his scarred face hovering inches from the baby. "He looks... small. Is he supposed to be that small?"
"He's perfect," Sora laughed, and as she did, the baby's face scrunched up. His mouth opened wide—wider than any human infant's should—and he let out a sound that wasn't a cry, but a giggle.
Dragon moved to the other side of the bed. He reached out a finger, calloused and scarred from years of "justice" in the field. The baby's tiny hand shot out and gripped Dragon's index finger.
The room went silent as Dragon pulled back slightly, expecting the grip to break. Instead, the baby's arm began to stretch.
One inch. Three inches. Five.
The infant's skin didn't tear; it didn't even redden. It simply elongated like warm taffy, thin and translucent, before snapping back with a soft thwack as the baby pulled his father's hand toward his face to chew on it.
Garp's jaw hit his chest. Sora let out a delighted squeal. Dragon's eyes narrowed, the "justice" in his gaze momentarily replaced by pure, unadulterated shock.
"A Mutant-type," Dragon murmured, his voice dropping into that low, serious register. "Elasticity but.. different than some other rubber quirks I've seen. It's... unconventional."
"It's hilarious!" Sora countered, poking her son's cheek, which promptly stretched out like a balloon under her touch. "He's made of sunlight and rubber. He's going to be the happiest boy in the world."
Garp suddenly let out a laugh that shook the windows. "Bwahaha! A rubber man! It's a ridiculous power, Dragon! Imagine the training! I'll throw him off a cliff and he'll just bounce back up! It's perfect!"
Dragon didn't laugh. He looked at the boy—at the way his eyes seemed to find the light in the room and hold onto it. "He will need more than laughter to survive this world, Garp. If he is to be a hero, he must be a pillar. He must be unbendable."
"He's literally bendable, Dragon! That's the point!" Garp slapped his son on the back, nearly knocking him over.
Sora pulled the baby closer, shielding him from the giants looming over her. She looked down at her son, who was now trying to stretch his own ears over his eyes. "He'll have your strength, Dragon. He'll have your fire for what's right. But he's going to do it with a smile. Aren't you, Luffy?"
The baby, as if understanding her, let out another bubbling laugh.
Four Years Later: The Playground of Shizuoka
The Ministry of Heroic Affairs required all children to be registered by their fourth birthday. Luffy's entry was a point of minor contention.
Name: Monkey D. Luffy.
Quirk: Gum-Gum (Gomu Gomu).
Category: Mutant.
Legal Restriction: Grade C Public Usage (Non-Destructive).
To the Ministry, he was a statistical anomaly—a boy who was effectively immune to blunt force trauma but lacked the "offensive output" required for top-tier heroics. To the kids in the neighborhood, he was a spectacle.
Luffy was currently standing at the top of a ten-foot slide, staring down at a group of older boys who had stolen a ball from a younger girl.
"Give it back," Luffy said.
The "Joy" that Sora had cultivated in him was gone for the moment. His brow was furrowed, his stance wide and grounded. In that moment, looking at him from a distance, one might have mistaken his silhouette for Dragon's. There was a weight to his presence, all of a sudden. "Make us, Rubber-Boy!" the lead bully shouted. "What are you gonna do? Bounce at us?"
Luffy didn't hesitate. He didn't have a plan, he never did, but he had a feeling. He wound his right arm back. He pulled it so far behind his shoulder that the fabric of his t-shirt began to groan. His small bicep thinned out, stretching back ten, fifteen feet, coiling like a spring.
"Gomu Gomu no..."
He let go.
The arm snapped forward with a whistling sound. But Luffy was four. He hadn't mastered the "snap." Instead of a straight punch, his arm wobbled through the air like a wet noodle, lost its momentum halfway, and slapped the bully weakly across the top of his head.
The playground went silent.
The bully blinked. "That... that didn't even hurt. It felt like being hit by a warm gummy bear."
The tension in Luffy's face broke instantly. He pulled his arm back, his eyes widening as he watched it ripple and fold back into his shoulder. "Whoa! Did you see how far it went?! That was so cool!"
The bullies laughed, but the laughter was different now. It wasn't cruel; it was confused. How could someone go from looking so terrifyingly serious to so incredibly stupid in three seconds?
"You're a weirdo, Luffy!" they shouted, tossing the ball back more out of bewilderment than fear.
Luffy caught the ball, his grin returning in full force, stretching from ear to ear. He handed it back to the crying girl. "Don't worry! I'm gonna be a hero, so nobody's gonna cry anymore! Shishishi!"
That night, the Shizuoka docks were quiet, save for the sound of crashing waves and the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a boy hitting a sandbag.
Garp sat on a crate, chewing on a piece of dried meat. "Your form is terrible, brat! You're relying too much on the stretch. If someone cuts you, you're just a leaking balloon!"
Luffy, panting, wiped sweat from his forehead. He looked at his hands. They were red and sore, but they weren't bruised. They couldn't be. "I want to hit harder, Grandpa. Like Ace. His fire goes boom. My arms go flop."
Garp stood up, his massive shadow swallowing the boy. "Ace is a prodigy. But you... you have something else. You have the Monkey blood. You don't break. You just deform and come back. But if you want to be a hero in this country, the Ministry won't care about your smile. They care about results."
Garp's face softened for a fraction of a second as he looked at the boy. He saw Sora's light in that grin, but he saw Dragon's stubbornness in the way Luffy gripped his fists.
"Dragon is leaving for the overseas mission tomorrow," Garp said quietly. "He won't be back for a long time. He wanted me to tell you... to stay out of trouble."
Luffy looked toward the horizon, where the massive silhouette of a Hero Transport ship was preparing to depart. He didn't look sad. He looked focused.
"I'll stay out of trouble," Luffy promised, his voice taking on that "Dragon" edge again. "But only until I'm strong enough to kick it."
Garp barked a laugh. "That's my grandson! Now, get ready! I'm going to throw this crate at you, and if you don't bounce it back, you're sleeping in the harbor!"
"BRING IT ON!" Luffy shouted, his arms already winding up, a boy of rubber and light, oblivious to the fact that his world was about to get much, much bigger—and much more dangerous.
Would you like me to continue with Chapter 2, focusing on the early training days with Ace and the development of their bond?
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