Dawn pierced through the clouds, casting light over the debris-strewn beach.
Pirates and Marines had achieved an unprecedented "peaceful slumber" together on this tiny stretch of sand.
Millet's bushy beard was adorned with half a grilled fish, while his fearsome war hammer served as a pillow for a young Marine—both snoring in remarkably synchronized harmony.
Colonel Mugren's cigar had fallen into the sand, his sidearm neatly placed aside, while he himself leaned against a Navy rum barrel, dead to the world.
Not far away, Spencer's noble attire lay wrinkled in a heap. Beside him sprawled several Marine officers—it seemed they'd progressed from poetry and literature to life philosophy the night before, ultimately drowning together in an ocean of knowledge.
The entire beach reeked of smoldering barbecue, sour rum, and... a thick, unmistakably masculine stench of sweat.
Kyle was one of the few still conscious, sporting dark circles under his eyes as he sat perched on the figurehead, expressionlessly taking in this scene that could only be called a "wonder of the world."
Kyle was gradually piecing everything together—so-called adventure was just a bunch of bros getting way too close for comfort.
His Wave-Wave Fruit ability had a neat non-combat application: using specific sound frequencies to stimulate the brain and stay alert.
The price? He'd been forced to witness the complete transformation from shouting death threats to buddy-buddy bonding to collective corpse-like sprawling.
His gaze swept across the scene, finally settling on the center of the campfire area.
There, the future Pirate King Gol D. Roger and the future Marine Hero Monkey D. Garp lay head-to-head in an extremely undignified pose, drooling in their sleep.
Kyle felt his temples throbbing.
These were supposed to be archenemies? They looked more like long-lost brothers!
"Ugh... water..."
Gaban's incoherent groaning broke the morning silence. He struggled to sit up, rubbing his bird's nest hair and looking around in confusion. When he spotted a burly Marine cuddling his liquor barrel nearby, his eyes instantly blazed red.
"Bastard! Give me back my booze!"
This roar was like a war horn sounding the charge.
"Who's making noise!"
"My head... It's splitting!"
"Ah! My leg's asleep!"
Pirates and Marines rose like zombies with their startup switches flipped, swaying unsteadily to their feet.
They stared blankly at the "enemies" in different uniforms beside them. Last night's brotherhood remained a blur, but the hostility carved into their muscles was already awakening.
The atmosphere shifted in mere seconds from hungover confusion to a tense standoff.
"Gu ha ha ha... slept like a baby!" Roger stretched luxuriously and gave Garp's back a solid smack that echoed with a dull thud.
"Wha... It's you, kid!" Garp jolted awake, rubbing his eyes. Seeing Roger, he flashed a gunpowder-scented grin. "Dawn's here—guess it's time for you to die!"
"That's debatable. Maybe you're the one about to get left in our dust again!" Roger shot back. The two stood face-to-face, eyes burning with identical fierce flames.
Following their commanders' "friendly greetings," both sides quickly reformed their battle lines.
Pirates retreated toward their ship while Marines regrouped. Last night's harmony vanished completely, leaving only crackling sparks in the air.
The new crew members, especially Seagull Guns Nozdon and Moon Isaac Jr. Jr., felt their brains overloading.
They mechanically followed the group's retreat while their eyes darted between Roger and Garp, trying to comprehend this bizarre relationship where one second they're sleeping together and the next they're ready for mutual annihilation.
"Alright, boys! Pack it up, we're shipping out!" Roger waved dismissively, completely ignoring the murderous Navy fleet across from them.
"Mr. Garp! Should we attack immediately?" A young Marine lieutenant commander rushed to Garp's side, nervously requesting orders.
Garp picked his nose and shifted his gaze from Roger to scan his equally hungover, disheveled subordinates. He waved irritably: "Fight what fight! You wanna die? All hands back to the ship—we'll get 'em next time!"
"Yes, sir!"
And so, what should have been an earth-shaking battle fizzled out with both commanders feeling the "timing wasn't right."
When the ships were nearly a hundred meters apart, the familiar routine resumed.
"Roger—!" Garp stood at his warship's bow, bellowing loud enough to raise waves: "Next time we meet, I'm personally throwing your ass in Impel Down!"
"Gu ha ha ha ha!" Roger stood at his own bow, laughing with wild abandon: "Just try it, Garp! But don't go getting yourself killed by some small fry before then!"
The sea breeze carried their legendary exchange—an understanding and promise only they could comprehend.
Kyle stood behind Roger, listening to this banter while his mouth twitched involuntarily. He muttered under his breath: "Yeah, yeah, same song every time, like clockwork. What Impel Down—looks more like a wedding chapel to me..."
Just as Kyle was internally griping, Garp's booming voice rang out again, this time with laser precision targeting him.
"Hey! You there, kid!"
Kyle's body went rigid as an ominous feeling washed over him.
He looked up to see Garp pointing directly at him, flashing a brilliant white-toothed grin that made his skin crawl.
"Next time I'm definitely dragging you back to Marine Headquarters! Better wash that neck and wait for me! Ha ha ha ha!"
The Roger Pirates' ship fell into an eerie silence.
Every eye instantly focused on Kyle.
The veteran crew members stifled their laughter with practiced ease, while newcomers like Nozdon, Isaac Jr., and Bankuro stared in shock and disbelief.
"Pfft..." Gaban was first to crack, exploding in laughter: "Ha ha ha ha! Little Kyle, did you hear that? Garp specifically wants to 'arrest' you!"
"A special Navy invitation—what an honor, Kyle-senpai!" Millet joined the teasing, his rough laughter echoing across the deck.
"Why would... Mr. Garp... focus on Kyle..." Nozdon's pointed head was full of question marks as he struggled to understand why a Marine commodore would be so "obsessed" with a pirate kid.
Spencer elegantly adjusted his collar, lips curling in a meaningful smile: "Perhaps in Mr. Garp's eyes, Kyle is the only 'lost lamb' who can still be saved."
Kyle's face had turned black as a pot bottom.
Lost lamb? The old bastard should worry about his own son—the legendary sweat king Dragon was about to make his debut!
And what's with "wash that neck and wait"? That phrasing sounded way too weird!
Meeting the gazes of his entire crew—some teasing, some curious, some stunned—Kyle felt his "senpai" dignity being solidified in an unprecedented way... though also becoming increasingly strange.
He took a deep breath and shouted back at the retreating warship with all his might: "I refuse! Go eat your rice crackers!"
His voice carried far on the wind. Whether Garp heard it or not was unclear, but the Roger Pirates' ship had already dissolved into an ocean of laughter.
"Gu ha ha ha! Well said, Kyle!" Roger slapped Kyle's shoulder hard, laughing until tears nearly came.
Rayleigh also smiled and shook his head, walking over to hand Kyle a glass of orange juice: "You've had it rough. Dealing with both Garp's cannonballs and his 'recruitment' isn't easy."
Kyle accepted the juice and downed a big gulp, his pent-up frustration finally easing.
Looking at his crewmates doubled over with laughter, he sighed helplessly.
Yesterday's battle had showcased his strength—using "Sound Slash: Exploding Phoenix Cry" to counter Garp's cannonballs and "Shock Step: Flash" to disrupt the Navy fleet had definitely impressed all the new crew members.
Now, Garp's long-distance declaration had secured his "senpai" position in an entirely different way.
Though the process was... a bit embarrassing.
"Hey, Kyle." The usually silent swordsman Isaac Jr. had somehow appeared beside him, offering a clean cloth.
"Hm?"
"Yesterday... very strong." Isaac Jr.'s words were brief, his eyes showing pure recognition from one warrior to another.
"Awesome, senpai! Take me along next time you fight!" The big guy Nozdon, crowded over too, face full of admiration.
Seeing his crewmates' eyes now held no trace of contempt—only complete trust and acceptance—Kyle felt all the previous hardship and embarrassment had been worth it.
He took Isaac Jr.'s cloth and wiped the sweat from his face, his signature slightly fox-like cunning smile returning.
Though the process was bumpy, he'd at least salvaged his dignity.
"Time for a banquet!" Roger's roar rang out again.
"Captain! We just had one!"
"To celebrate another escape from Garp's clutches! Isn't that worth celebrating?"
"Wooooo!"
Well, the tradition of constant partying was indeed an inseparable part of this pirate crew.
Kyle helplessly held his forehead, though his lips unconsciously curved upward.
Damn, this was actually pretty great.