8: Chapter 08: Five Times Five?
8: Chapter 08: Five Times Five?
[Ding!
How can an outstanding youth of the new era neglect his studies?
Homework is an essential part of life and the key to a harmonious relationship between parent and child.] [Friendly reminder: Have you studied today?
If not, take out your workbook and begin studying immediately.] [Mission: Promote your son’s development in character, intelligence, physical fitness, aesthetics, and practical skills by having him complete one night of homework.] [Rewards: Six Powers—Shave, Iron Body +1, Finger Pistol +1.] Three rewards appeared at once, and Jiro’s eyes lit up.
One of them was a new Six Powers technique: Shave, an essential ability for moving around in style.
In the early stages of the One Piece world, the Six Powers could practically be considered god-tier techniques.
Every one of them looked impressive, but Shave was especially useful.
It allowed the user to move at such extreme speed that they seemed to disappear.
Repeatedly using it was one of CP9’s most basic combat methods.
It was indispensable.
Without Shave, half the joy of life would be gone.
On top of that, Iron Body and Finger Pistol would both gain a level.
Three rewards, all for ensuring his son received a well-rounded education.
“This mission truly understands me.
As expected of my dear system.” [System: …I feel like I’ve been influenced again.] “If we’re doing homework, then the multiplication table is essential.
It’s time for my dear son to acquire some knowledge.” “His brain isn’t particularly impressive, so memorizing it might help with his development.” The multiplication table was one of the simplest things an elementary student could learn.
Jiro was already being merciful.
If he were truly ruthless, he would give Garp a stack of entrance-exam preparation books.
The boy would probably burst into tears on the spot.
Being a student of the new era was truly difficult.
Fortunately, Garp had no classmates to compete against.
Jiro made a blackboard, which didn’t take him long.
Once it was finished, he straightened his clothes and adjusted his posture.
It was time for Teacher Jiro to begin his lesson.
“Son, come here.” Garp walked over with a foolish expression, already certain that his damn father was plotting something again.
Then he saw the blackboard.
His father seemed different somehow.
Things were getting serious.
“Sit down.” A chair and table had already been prepared.
Garp obediently took his seat.
“Sit up straight.
Don’t slouch, and stop looking around.
Face the front.” Jiro pointed repeatedly at the blackboard.
Garp had no desire to look at it, so a small piece of wood flew across the room and struck him on the head.
Teacher Jiro picked up the wooden pointer beside him and aimed it at Garp.
“Son, look over here.
I don’t like repeating myself.” Jiro was beginning to get into the role.
“From now on, you will study every night.
Your father—that is, I—will serve as your teacher.
During class, you will address me as ‘Teacher,’ not ‘Dad.'” “You will study for two hours every day and may only sleep after the lesson is finished.
I will also assign homework, which you will submit during the next lesson.” “If you make mistakes, you will correct them.
If you don’t, we will move on to something new.” “You must understand what you know and admit what you don’t.
Never pretend to understand something when you don’t.” “I expect my student to be honest.
If you know the answer, say so.
If you don’t, admit it.” Teacher Jiro solemnly explained the classroom rules.
There would be no talking during class and no whispering to others.
Not that Garp had anyone to whisper to.
The moment Garp heard the word “class,” he froze.
No way.
Dad is going to teach me?
Is this a joke?
I’m only seven years old!
“Dad, I want to—” Jiro immediately cut him off.
“Raise your hand before asking a question.
Do it again, and you’ll be severely punished.” Garp hurriedly sat straight and raised his hand.
“Speak.” Garp stood up.
“Dad, I don’t think I’m old enough for this.” Jiro interrupted him again.
“I don’t care what you think.
Do you understand?” What mattered was what Jiro thought.
This wasn’t a negotiation.
Garp could accept the decision willingly or unwillingly, but he would accept it either way.
He sat back down.
There was no point arguing, so he could only listen obediently.
I’m doomed.
If Dad is teaching me, wouldn’t I be better off learning from someone else?
Sengoku, Tsuru, save me.
Hurry!
I’m going to die!
Class quickly became Garp’s newest nightmare.
What was his father even talking about?
The multiplication table?
What in the world was that?
He recognized every number individually, so why did they sound like complete nonsense when his father combined them?
Jiro explained the lesson seriously and even gave Garp simple patterns to help him memorize the answers.
Today marked the beginning of a new nightmare.
“One times one is one.” “One times two is two.” “One times three is three.” Soon, only Garp’s voice could be heard inside the hut as he recited the multiplication table again and again.
After explaining everything, Jiro left the memorization to him.
Garp would remember however much his brain allowed.
There would be plenty more to study later.
Addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division—he wouldn’t be allowed to skip any of them.
Fortunately, Garp already recognized numbers, which saved Jiro a considerable amount of time.
Tomorrow, he would buy paper so his son could complete proper written homework.
Completely unaware of the nightmare awaiting him, Garp continued memorizing.
Half an hour passed.
His eyelids began to droop, and his voice grew increasingly faint.
“Garp!” Garp shot to his feet, trembling.
He was instantly awake and resumed reciting.
Jiro raised a hand, signaling for him to stop.
“Let me test you.” Garp immediately shook his head.
He hadn’t memorized everything yet.
Teacher Jiro ignored him.
“What is five times five?” “Thirty-five?” The moment Garp saw his father’s expression, he knew something was wrong.
“Twenty!
It’s twenty, right?” Still wrong.
Garp racked his brain and came up with what he believed had to be the correct answer.
“Thirty.
Definitely thirty.
Five times five is thirty.” Jiro stared at his son as though he were an idiot.
The answer was written directly on the blackboard, yet Garp had still managed to get it wrong three times.
Had he listened to anything?
“Look up.” Jiro’s voice was cold, and his expression was severe.
Garp raised his head and saw the answer written on the blackboard.
Damn it.
Why did I try to work it out myself?
Are you stupid, Garp?
“Tell me again.
What is five times five?” “Twenty-five, Dad,” Garp answered sheepishly.
Jiro narrowed his eyes.
“What did you call me?” “Dad.
What’s wrong?” “Say it again.” Garp shrank back and blinked.
Then he remembered.
“Teacher.” Jiro nodded.
“Remember that.
During class, I am your teacher, not your father.
If you address me incorrectly again, you’ll copy your homework ten times.” Garp lowered his head.
“Yes, Teacher.” How terrifying.
His father had somehow become even scarier after turning into a teacher.
Garp suddenly missed the old version of him.
Drinking all day, passing out, then waking up only to drink again.
Those had truly been wonderful times.