The air was crisp and cold on Mt. Colubo as the sun slowly began its descent into the horizon. The mountain, quiet and remote, was the perfect hideout for the notorious bandit group led by Dadan — a rough, weathered woman who had spent years evading capture. Despite the chill, the warmth of her small campfire provided comfort as she sharpened her blade, lost in thought about the solitude of her life.

  Her peaceful moment was interrupted by the sound of a faint cry, carried by the wind.

  A baby’s cry.

  Dadan furrowed her brow, unsure if she was hearing things. There was no one else up here on the mountain, and she had never heard anything like it before. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she rose to her feet, leaving her blade behind.

  She followed the sound through the trees, her boots crunching on the snow-covered ground. The cry grew louder, more desperate, until she finally came upon a small clearing. In the middle of it, she spotted a bundle of cloth. From within it came the unmistakable sound of an infant crying.

  A sense of confusion and anger rose within her. Who in their right mind would leave a baby out here, in the wilderness?

  With a gruff sigh, Dadan knelt down and gingerly picked up the small bundle. As she unfolded the cloth, she saw the tiny face of a newborn, no more than three weeks old. His wide, innocent eyes locked onto hers, and for a brief moment, Dadan felt a strange connection — as if fate had placed him in her path.

  She didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t a mother. She wasn’t even the nurturing type. But she couldn’t just leave the child here. Sighing heavily, she cradled him in her arms.

  “Guess I’ve got a kid to take care of now…” she muttered.

  Meanwhile, Monkey D. Garp, the famously reckless Marine Vice Admiral, was arriving on the mountain. He stepped off the ship at the base of Mt. Colubo with a serious look on his face. In his arms, he held a small bundle, tightly wrapped in cloth. This was no ordinary package but a precious burden — the future of a child who would one day carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  The cry of the baby he carried was faint, but it didn’t seem to faze Garp. The man was used to louder sounds, especially from the battles he fought and the trouble he often caused. Still, there was something more pressing on his mind — his duty to see this child grow up safe, even if he couldn’t always be around to protect him.

  As Garp walked up the rocky path toward Dadan’s hideout, he found himself considering the strange situation he was in. He didn’t know how to explain the child’s origin or what his future might hold, but he knew one thing — this boy, Portgas D. Ace, would need the kind of rough, no-nonsense upbringing Dadan could provide.

  When he arrived at her house, Dadan was already seated on a rock outside, holding Yasuragi in her arms. She had been glancing down at the baby, her hard exterior softening for the first time in a long while.

  Garp grinned and approached, holding the bundle in his arms. “Hey, Dadan! I’ve got another one for you,” he called out.

  Dadan’s eyes narrowed, and she immediately stood up, her hand instinctively going to her weapon. “What now, Garp?” she grumbled.

  Garp chuckled, but his face grew more serious as he approached her. “This here is Portgas D. Ace,” he said, holding the bundle out to her. “I need you to look after him. He’s a baby, and I can’t do it all by myself. His life will be... complicated. But for now, he just needs someone to care for him.”

  Dadan blinked in surprise. She looked from Garp to the baby in his arms. She had already taken one child in — the baby in her arms — and was still figuring out how to take care of him. Now another one? She wasn’t sure what to think.

  “You’re handing me another one?” Dadan raised an eyebrow. “Do you even know what you're asking me to do?”

  Garp nodded, his expression unusually serious. “I can’t raise him. I have my own responsibilities. But you, Dadan... You’ve got a way with kids. He’s a few months older than the other one, and I think they’d be good for each other. Let them grow up together. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Dadan exhaled sharply and scratched the back of her head. She wasn’t sure what to make of this situation. The idea of raising two babies — no matter how small they were — was overwhelming. But there was something about Garp’s trust in her, something in his eyes, that made it impossible for her to say no.

  “Fine. I’ll take him in,” Dadan finally said, her voice rough but resigned. “But don’t expect me to be their nanny.”

  Garp’s grin returned, and he handed the bundle to her without hesitation. “You’re the best, Dadan. Trust me, they’ll both turn out fine.”

  He turned to leave but paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You know, I think they’ll be good friends. Ace might not have anyone, but the other kid — well, he’s got a spirit to him. I can see them growing up together, helping each other out.”

  Dadan, holding both babies now — one in each arm — watched Garp leave. She didn’t know how, but she had a feeling that Garp was right. These two babies, brought into her life unexpectedly, might end up being the reason she kept going — the reason she changed, even if she didn’t want to admit it yet.

  As the sun set behind the mountains, Dadan gazed down at the two babies in her arms. Both of them were still too young to understand anything, but their futures were now tied together. There was no going back, and though she might not have chosen this path, she would see it through.

  “Alright, you two,” Dadan muttered, her rough voice softer than usual. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other now.”

  The crackle of a small fire echoed softly through the clearing on Mt. Colubo, where a humble, worn-down house stood alone among the towering trees. Inside, Dadan sat on an old wooden stool, her expression as sour as ever, a tiny bundle nestled awkwardly in her arms.

  Little Yasuragi, barely a few weeks old, lay sleeping peacefully. His tiny face was relaxed, soft hair clinging to his forehead. He was so quiet, so still, it made Dadan uneasy. She wasn’t used to this — bandits, yes. Smuggling, stealing, drinking, sure. But a baby? That was new.

  With a grumble, she shifted her hold on him.

  “Tch… who leaves a baby cryin’ in the woods like that, huh? Damn irresponsible.”

  The front door creaked open, and two rough-looking men stepped inside. Dogra, a burly man with a thick beard and a scarf around his neck, and Magra, leaner and sharp-eyed, carrying a small bundle of firewood. They were Dadan’s long-time subordinates — trusted, if only because they knew better than to cross her.

  “Boss, firewood’s set,” Magra called, placing the logs down by the hearth. “Need anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Dadan grunted, glancing down at the baby. “Figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do with this kid.”

  Dogra snorted as he walked over and peered at Yasuragi.

  “Still can’t believe you dragged him back here. Little runt doesn’t even make a peep.”

  “I wasn’t about to leave him out there,” Dadan snapped, defensive. “Not in those woods. Too many beasts. And I ain’t heartless.”

  Magra grinned. “Didn’t peg you for the motherly type, Boss.”

  “Shut it,” Dadan grumbled.

  Before they could say more, the door banged open again — and in strode Dogra, this time carrying another small bundle: a baby boy, a few months older than Yasuragi. Portgas D. Ace, dropped off earlier that day by that troublesome Marine Vice Admiral, Garp. No explanation, no warning. Just a kid and an order.

  “Boss, Ace’s awake,” Dogra announced, bouncing the baby lightly in his arms. Ace was already a loud one, wriggling and waving his tiny fists, his face scrunched up in frustration.

  Dadan groaned, massaging her temple.

  “Great. Now there’s two of ‘em.”

  The two subordinates exchanged a glance.

  “You want us to help out?” Magra asked carefully.

  “Obviously, you idiots!” Dadan barked. “You think I can handle two brats on my own? You work for me — that means you’re on baby duty too, now.”

  Dogra chuckled. “Well, guess we’re bandit babysitters now.”

  Magra crouched by Yasuragi’s makeshift crib — an old box lined with blankets — peering at the quietly sleeping infant.

  “He’s a strange one. Don’t cry, don’t fuss. Almost like he’s listenin’ to us.”

  “Told ya,” Dadan muttered. “He’s… weird. Found him all alone, not a soul around. Been quiet since.”

  Dogra shifted Ace in his arms.

  “And this one’s the opposite. Loud as hell. Bet he’s got Garp’s temper.”

  The small house slowly settled into a strange new normal. Magra kept an eye on Yasuragi, making sure he was fed and cleaned. Dogra wrestled with the loud, wriggly Ace, who was already trying to grab anything within reach. Dadan pretended to complain, but in truth, the weight of responsibility pressed down on her heavier than she liked to admit.

  By nightfall, both babies were finally asleep. Yasuragi lay in his box-cradle, a calm, almost knowing look on his face, while Ace snored softly in a nest of blankets nearby. The three bandits sat around the fire, exhausted but strangely content.

  “I’ll be damned,” Dogra muttered. “Didn’t think we’d end up raisin’ kids in this dump.”

  “Don’t get soft on me,” Dadan warned — though there was no heat in her voice.

  Magra gave a lopsided grin.

  “Well, Boss, like it or not — they’re ours now.”

  Dadan sighed heavily, staring into the fire.

  “Yeah… they’re ours.”

  And so, in a quiet, ragged house on Mt. Colubo, two babies found their unlikely family: a gruff bandit boss, her loyal subordinates, and a bond forged not by blood, but by coincidence, stubborn hearts, and a little bit of rough-edged kindness.