17: 17.
A Mother’s Choice and the Hand That Reached 17: 17.
A Mother’s Choice and the Hand That Reached = Belle-mere’s POV = The day the pirates came, the sea was calm.
It was the kind of calm that made fishermen feel lucky and farmers feel grateful, the kind that made you believe nothing bad would happen, because nothing ever seemed to happen on days like that.
Looking back, I realized that was exactly why it caught us off guard, because no one prepares for disaster when the world looks peaceful.
They arrived without warning.
A pirate crew from the Grand Line, not the kind of small-time troublemakers we occasionally heard about, but a group of Fishmen, beings I had only known through stories and reports during my time in the Marines.
I had never fought one before, never even seen one in person, and while I did not hold any prejudice against their race, I had no reason to trust pirates who came ashore with weapons and demands.
Fear spread through the village quickly, faster than any fire could have, because everyone understood what it meant when pirates landed without invitation.
They did not come to trade, and they did not come to talk.
They came to take.
Their captain stepped forward, a tall and imposing Saw Shark Fishman whose presence alone made it clear who was in charge.
Arlong carried himself with the confidence of someone who had never needed to doubt his own strength, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of that certainty.
He demanded money.
Not as a request, not as a negotiation, but as a condition for survival.
One hundred thousand Berries for each adult, and fifty thousand for each child.
It was not a price most of us could afford, and that was precisely the point.
I did not think.
I acted.
Years of Marine training had not left my body, even if I had left the uniform behind.
Before anyone could stop me, I launched a surprise attack.
I managed to push Arlong down, forcing him onto his back, and with a swift motion, I jammed my rifle into his mouth.
For a brief moment, I believed I had succeeded.
Any human pirate I had ever encountered would have frozen in that situation, would have hesitated at the very least, because a gun in the mouth was not something one could easily ignore.
But Arlong was not human.
He bit down my rifle.
The sound of metal breaking echoed in my ears as if reality itself had cracked, and just like that, my weapon was reduced to useless fragments between his teeth.
The ease with which he did it shattered any illusion I had about being able to overpower him.
Before I could react, he slammed me into the ground.
The impact knocked the air out of my lungs, and for a moment, I could not even move, my body refusing to respond as pain spread through me.
In that instant, I understood something with terrifying clarity.
I could not win.
Not against him.
Not against any of them.
They were stronger than anything I had faced before, and there was no strategy, no trick, no sudden burst of determination that would bridge that gap.
If I continued to fight, I would die, and my death would change nothing.
So I stopped.
Not because I was afraid of dying, but because I was afraid of what would happen to my daughters if I did.
I gathered what money I had.
Every coin I had saved, every bit of emergency funds I had hidden away, all of it added up to one hundred thousand Berries, barely enough to pay for a single adult or two children.
It was a cruel calculation, one that no mother should ever have to make, yet there I was, holding the sum that would determine who lived and who died.
Genzo-san stepped forward.
His voice tense as he urged me to pay quickly, trying to push the pirates away before they noticed anything else.
When one of the Fishmen pointed out the three portions prepared on my table, Genzo quickly lied, claiming that he had been invited along with another person, doing everything he could to protect my daughters.
I understood what he was trying to do.
I truly did.
But I also knew it would not work.
These pirates were not fools, and more importantly, they were not passing through.
Everything about their behavior suggested that they intended to stay, to establish themselves here and turn our home into their base.
If that happened, they would demand payment again and again, and eventually, they would discover the truth.
When that day came, my daughters would die.
Not because I could not pay, but because I had chosen not to.
That was not a risk I could accept.
So I made my choice.
“The money… is for my daughters,” I said.
The words felt heavier than anything I had ever spoken.
I was not just choosing who to save.
I was declaring who I was.
A mother.
No matter what happened next, I refused to deny that.
Arlong’s eyes narrowed as he understood what I meant, and without hesitation, he raised his pistol and pointed it at my head.
There was no anger in his expression, only a cold acknowledgment of a decision that required a response.
I knew what was coming.
I pulled my daughters close, holding them as tightly as I could, memorizing their warmth, their presence, their existence.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Not because I regretted my choice, but because I wished I could have given them more.
Then— A thunderous crash.
The ground shook beneath us, and instead of the expected gunshot, I heard something heavy hit the earth with overwhelming force.
For a moment, my mind refused to process what had happened, but when I opened my eyes, I saw something that felt almost unreal.
A massive boar lay where Arlong had stood, and in front of us, a tall man wearing a red floral shirt stood with his back to me.
Recognition struck immediately.
Monkey D.
Garp, the Marine Hero.
How could I have forgotten that he was here?
Even as that thought crossed my mind, Arlong rose from the impact, shaking off the attack with terrifying resilience.
He kicked the boar aside and faced Garp, his teeth already regenerating as if the damage meant nothing.
The villagers were confused, uncertain whether to feel relief or fear, but among the pirates, tension grew instantly.
One of them, an octopus Fishman, stared at Garp with growing unease, as if trying to recall something important.
I did not hesitate.
“Vice-Admiral Garp!” I shouted.
The effect was immediate.
Hope ignited among the villagers, while dread spread through the pirates like a silent plague.
Even Arlong, who had faced the world with unwavering arrogance, showed signs of hesitation as realization dawned.
They knew that name.
Everyone did.
The Marine Hero.
The man who stood on equal footing with the Pirate King himself.
There was no need for further explanation.
The battle that followed was not a battle.
It was a demonstration.
Two of Arlong’s men attacked first, one launching a powerful stream of water while the other delivered a crushing blow to Garp’s chest.
For a moment, it seemed as if they had succeeded, as Garp was sent flying into my house, reducing part of it to rubble.
My heart clenched as I shielded my daughters, but that fear lasted only a second.
Garp emerged from the debris without a single injury.
Instead of anger, he commented on the damage to my home, calmly discussing compensation as if the destruction of a house was merely an inconvenience to be noted.
Then he moved.
I couldn’t follow it.
One moment he stood there, and the next, he had already seized his attackers and slammed them together, knocking them out instantly.
Arlong attacked next, swinging a massive blade with all his strength.
The blade shattered upon impact with Garp’s head.
I did not understand how that was possible.
I was not sure I ever would.
Garp caught Arlong with ease, lifting him into the air as if he weighed nothing, and with a single punch, he ended the fight.
Just like that.
The crew that had threatened our lives was defeated.
Not by an army.
Not by a desperate struggle.
But by two men.
Garp and his aide.
As the Marines arrived and took the pirates away to Impel Down, relief finally settled over the village.
We were safe, at least for now, and the fear that had gripped us began to fade.
Garp left us with the boar and returned our money, telling us to have a feast.
It felt surreal.
One moment we had been on the brink of death, and the next, we were celebrating survival.
In the days that followed, the Marines kept their word.
They sent workers to rebuild my house and provided compensation for the damage, something I had not expected, even as a former Marine.
Perhaps it was standard procedure, or perhaps it was because Garp had been involved.
Either way, I was grateful.
Yet the incident left something behind.
A realization I could not ignore.
If I had more money, I would not have been forced into that choice.
If I had more means, I could protect my daughters better.
Farming oranges alone would not be enough.
I needed something more.
I just did not know what.
Then, a few months later, Garp returned, and this time, he brought an answer to my worries.
—————————————————————- Thank you for your support.
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CHAPTER 71.
Mr.
2 Bon Clay CHAPTER 72.
HolyRicekun