9 Chapter 9
Disclaimer: If you recognise it, surprise, I don't own it.
Chapter 5– Outburst.
Edited: 11/03/2023
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"YOU SHITTY OLD MAN!" I HAVE CONTAINED MY RAGE FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE, BUT I SHALL UNLEASH MY FURY UPON YOU LIKE THE CRASHING OF A THOUSAND WAVES! BEGONE, VILE MAN! BEGONE FROM ME! I CLEAN ALL DAY! I TOIL AWAY FOR HOURS ON END, AND YOU RUIN IT IN A MATTER OF MOMENTS! I AM UNTETHERED, AND MY RAGE KNOWS NO BOUNDS! THIS FORSAKEN BROOMSTICK, I HAVE USED IT FOR SO LONG THAT IT HAS BECOME ANOTHER LIMB FOR ME, AND I HAVE UNLOCKED THE TRUE POWER THAT WAS HIDDEN WITHIN THE WOOD! FEEL THE MIGHT OF MY BROOMSTICK!!!"
I jump forward, feeling an untold amount of power surge throughout my body. Never before seen strength erupts from the centre of my anguished soul, and it travels from the centre of my chest to my shoulders, along my arms and through my hands to shroud my broomstick.
Reaching the precipice of my jump, I begin to fall downwards towards the old fogey, and I use the gravity to boost the power of my blow. I swing my broomstick down upon the head of the man who still continues to munch on his snacks, not having noticed me. Well, maybe you will feel this, you bastard.
"AAGGGHHHH!!!" I scream as I strike the top of the bastard's skull, feeling the impact jar my bones and shake my entire body, causing me to become stationary in the air for a moment.
"SNAP!" I hear the rich sound as the laws of physics kick back in, and I fall back down to my crumb-ridden deck. I land on my feet, but I feel my calves burn, and I nearly fall to the ground, but I clench my broomstick with both hands and steady myself.
"A-Ah, m-my limb..." All I am holding now is a slim piece of wood in my hand, with the end and broom brushes themselves being nowhere to be seen. Where did my limb go-
"AGH, IT HURTS!" Something hits the top of my head, and it follows through and drives me to the ground. I roll around in pain, clutching my head which now sports a big bump. Goddamn, this hurts.
"BWAHAHAHA, STUPID BRAT!- MUNCH!- WHO TOLD YOU TO TRY HITTING ME AGAIN?- MUNCH MUNCH!- DIDN'T YOU LEARN ANYTHING LAST TIME!- MUNCH!- YOUR OWN BROOMSTICK HIT YOU ON THE HEAD, BWAHAHAHA!" I forget about my pain when I hear the old man start to laugh above my head while still eating away at his crackers, I just hurt myself, and this gluttonous guy is laughing at me?
"Shut up! You idiot, old man, my head hurts because of you! Y-You lied to me. I-I thought you were supposed to be training me!" I reach my hands out, work my way to my feet, and then wipe some tears from my eyes. Some dust must have gotten into them.
So this is it. for a week, I had just been working like a mule on this horse and hardly even interacted with this old man when he was supposed to be training me. they took advantage of me and laughed at me as they made me clean their ship for an entire week.
"Hmm, I lied to you? I haven't been training you? So then, what do you think I have been doing this past week?" He questions, stopping his munching for a second to look down at me with a blank expression on his face. It cows me for a second before I remember just how angry I am at him for not fulfilling his commitment and making me work like a horse. I tell him exactly what is on my mind with my bolstered anger.
"YOU HAVE BEEN MAKING ME WORK ALL WEEK, CLEANING THIS STUPID SHIP FROM TOP TO BOTTOM UNTIL IT IS SPOTLESS. I HAVE TO HELP COOK FOOD FOR ALL THOSE MARINES AND CLEAN UP ALL THE MESS THEY MAKE, NOT TO MENTION I HAVE TO HELP PATCH UP ALL THE ONES YOU INJURE JUST BY BEING YOURSELF! I HAVE NOT BEEN TRAINING, I HAVE BEEN MANUAL LABOUR FOR YOU, AND THAT IS IT!!" I shout, having blown my top.
I could have dealt with all this stuff individually, especially if the Marines weren't deliberately making masses for me and the captain of this ship wasn't a miniature giant that smashes everything he touches to pieces. I would have been alright working on this ship, but this absurdity is too much for me.
I stare defiantly at the monstrosity of a man before me, his face is shadowed, and he has lowered his hands to his sides, with his left hand clutching the bag of crackers so tightly that I can hear them cracking.
With each crunch that emits from inside the bag, I can feel my confidence and anger fade away to be replaced by nervousness and unsureness. I watch as he raises his right hand into the air, and then he clenches it into a fist. "You rude little shrimp, I haven't been training you? Boy, it seems like someone needs the Fist of Love."
The Fist of Love? What the hell is that? Is it like respect, like a fist bum-
"BOINK!"
"OWW, IT HURTS!" I crouch down and clutch my head as I feel a new bump sprout out of the one I just got a minute ago. This old man just punched me in the head. That wasn't a Fist of Love. That was a Fist of Pain and suffering. Ah, some more dust got in my eyes from his blow, sending dust everywhere. My eyes are tearing up because of it, because of the dust.
"Hmph, that should have sorted out that stupid head of yours. You little brat, I have been training you all this time. I have been showing you the meaning of hard work. If you don't have the willpower and you aren't willing to work towards it, then there is no way you can get strong like me, and that little outburst just showed me that you aren't ready. If you can't handle something like this, then you aren't ready for my training. Look at you, you're nearly a teenager, and you are crying your eyes out. I can't have a crybaby like you be known as my student."
"I-I'm not a crybaby, and I'm not a teenager. I am only seven years old, you stupid old man. And I know the meaning of hard work. I am an orphan, and I live by myself. I just wanted you to teach me something before you leave, I know you won't stay here forever, and I don't want to waste any time." I spit out while getting back to my feet and starting to wipe at my eyes, trying to eviscerate these pathetic tears coming from my eyes.
So he thought I was nearly a teenager. I only reached just above the knee of this ten-foot giant, and he believed that equates to the height of a teenager, is his expectations that bizarre, or am I tall for my age and just didn't know it.
"What? No, no, you can't be. My six-year-old grandson only reaches about halfway up my calf, and you reach up to my knees. You are near twice his height. There is no way you are only seven years old. That is impossible." Finally, he speaks, stumbling back, shocked at my age. For some reason, he refuses to believe that I am seven, and he continues to deny the fact, which pisses me off. Who knows my age, him or me.
"What? So I am not seven years old. How old am I, then? Are you calling me a liar?" I say, offended that this old fart is questioning my words. I may be many things, but I am not a liar. I haven't actually had the chance to lie about anything, but the point still stands, I have never told a lie in my life. So for this shitty old man to question me over something as simple as my age, it pisses me off.
"N-No, I am not calling you a liar, not at all. I'm just surprised, that is all. I thought you were older. You are clever for your age, more clever than my grandson, so I just thought you were older. S-Stop crying, okay? Grandpa is sorry." He begins to apologise, but that doesn't mean anything to me.
This guy was working me like a mule because he thought I was older than I looked, and that just made me angrier, and now that he is apologising, I am getting more and more confident. So his apologising means I am in the right. And he is in the wrong.
"You aren't my grandpa, you silly old fart. Don't you feel bad? You have been making a tiny child like me do an entire shipful of Marines' work. Aren't Marines supposed to protect and help the innocent, but you are treating me like a sla-" Suddenly, he reaches out and grabs me by the lapel and raises me into the air. He pulls me closer until I am right up against his face.
"Do not say that word. just don't! You disrespectful little brat, I am nothing like them! I thought you were older and you could handle more. I made a mistake! but just because I made a mistake, don't think you can get away with saying stuff, brat!" Garp spits in my face, literally. I can feel the saliva slap across my face and begin to drop down my face.
My confidence starts to diminish little by little, and I can't help but think that maybe I took it too far, but then my eyes peer past his shoulders and seeing what is behind him, my resolve hardens. I started this, so I am gonna finish it, even if it means that I am going to make a bit of a fool of myself and do some questionable things. This old man has pissed me off, and I want to win this little confrontation. No matter the cost, I am willing to give it my all.
"U-UWAAAAAAH! WHY ARE YOU PICKING ON ME!? I AM ONLY SEVEN, BUT YOU MADE ME DO ALL OF THIS WORK. YOU LAUGHED AT ME AND MADE MORE MESS FOR ME AS I WORKED MYSELF TO THE BONE! AND NOW YOU ARE GOING TO HURT ME! I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TRAIN ME! UWAAAAAH!" It pains me to do this and cry. in all my years on this planet, I haven't cried once, but this man has pissed me off, so I am willing to do it even though it shames me.
Not only because I want to best this old fogey that has made me toil for an entire week without teaching me anything, but also because I just damaged my relationship with Garp. This minimises the chance of him training me after this, so I did this to gather public support. He who has the public rules the world.
"What..? YOU SHRIMP, STOP TALKING NONSENSE BEFORE I-"
"Garp-san." Garp freezes in the middle of his tirade before mechanically turning his head around to look behind him, all the while still holding me in the air by my shirt. Behind him stands Bogard, regarding him with a blank look and not really showing anything on his face, but behind him is the crew of the rest of the ship.
They are peeking out of doorways and around corners, trying to hide themselves, but with the sheer amount of them, they can hardly obscure themselves from our sight. But what is synonymous with all of them is that they are all looking at Garp disapprovingly. All of them have some kind of negative emotion on their face, with most of them having disappointment upon their faces and looking as if reality itself has shattered for them.
