Welcome to the mini-documentary "A Pirate's Day."
Morning sunlight streamed through the portholes, dappling Kyle's face.
He let out a long yawn and slowly shuffled out of the cabin.
The deck was a complete mess. Wine barrels from last night's party lay scattered about, and the air still carried the faint aroma of alcohol.
Gaban was sleeping soundly with his head pillowed on an empty barrel. Rayleigh leaned against the wall with his glasses askew, a peaceful smile at the corners of his mouth.
Oh my… that Mona Rayleigh smile!
Several young crew members were sprawled across the ground in all sorts of bizarre sleeping positions, as if they'd just survived a brutal battle rather than a party.
Kyle carefully stepped around these "bodies," afraid of accidentally stepping on someone's head.
Reaching the deck—
"Kyle!"
A battle-hungry roar erupted behind him.
Kyle didn't even lift his eyelids and kept walking.
Douglas Bullet, bare-chested with rippling muscles, was doing bench presses with a massive ship anchor.
Seeing Kyle, he immediately dropped the anchor with a thunderous crash that made several hungover crew members dizzy.
"Let's settle this!" Bullet's eyes burned with blazing flames as he assumed a fighting stance.
Kyle just turned his back to him and waved weakly, like shooing away an annoying fly.
Ever since that day, this battle maniac had been like a broken record, playing "let's settle this" in his ear at set times daily, more punctual than the ship's timekeeper bird.
Ignoring the burning gaze that almost seemed to bore through his back, Kyle walked to the bow.
"Good morning! Kyle-bro!" Shanks was swinging a wooden sword, trying to recreate Roger's swordsmanship. Sweat had soaked his fiery red hair.
Nearby, Buggy skillfully juggled two daggers, attempting flashy spins. He nearly nicked his prized red nose with a blade tip, startling himself badly.
"Your center of gravity is too high, Shanks," Kyle said lazily. "The sword isn't just swung with your arms—you need to drive your whole body's power with your waist. Right now, you're only using arm strength, which won't kill enemies."
He glanced at the still-shaken Buggy: "And you, Buggy. Weapons are extensions of your body. Can't you even control your own hands? The blade nearly poked your nose—how do you expect to poke enemies?"
"Mind... mind your own business!" Buggy flushed red, talking tough while his movements became much more careful.
Shanks' eyes lit up thoughtfully as he put away the wooden sword and began adjusting his stance.
Kyle said no more and headed straight to the wooden barrel specially prepared for him, filled with orange juice, skillfully pouring a full cup.
The cool, sweet liquid slid down his throat, making him contentedly close his eyes.
He returned to his exclusive beach chair and sprawled out, sliding his sunglasses onto his nose and gently swinging his crossed legs.
The sea breeze blew gently, the sun was warm, and even the distant seagull cries sounded like a lullaby.
Kyle sighed contentedly and sincerely exclaimed: "What a simple, plain, and boring day..."
...End credits...
Before he finished speaking—
"Whoosh—!"
A sharp whistling sound approached from far away, reaching them almost instantly.
BOOM!!!
A pitch-black cannonball exploded on the sea surface less than ten meters in front of him, raising towering waves.
Ice-cold seawater poured down like a waterfall, drenching Kyle from head to toe. His precious orange juice, which he'd barely sipped, was completely washed away by the spray.
Kyle's contentment instantly froze.
He sat rigidly in his soaked beach chair, wet hair plastered to his forehead, water droplets falling from his chin, looking exactly like a vengeful water ghost from urban legends.
He could feel his beloved floral shirt clinging tightly to his body.
"What the hell... where did that damn cannonball come from..." Kyle's voice was low, as if coming from hell itself.
This massive commotion also woke everyone on the ship.
"What's happening?!"
"Enemy attack?"
The hungover crew members climbed up one by one, all traces of sleepiness gone.
"What happened? Are we having another party?" Roger poked his head out from the captain's cabin, messy hair sporting a cowlick, but his face showed excitement.
Before anyone could answer, a booming laugh that shook the heavens came from the distance.
"Bwahaha! Roger! I can see your ship! You can't run away this time!"
Everyone looked toward the sound to see a massive dog-headed warship cutting through the waves, charging aggressively toward the Oro Jackson.
At the ship's bow, a man in a white justice coat with a mountain-like physique stood with hands on his hips, flashing them a carefree grin.
"It's Garp!" Shanks exclaimed.
"The Hero of the Marines..." Bullet's eyes sharpened, his fighting spirit ignited again—though this time with a different target.
"Tch, that crazy old man..." Gaban adjusted his sunglasses with a helpless sigh.
Seeing the arrival, Roger's excitement grew even stronger.
He flipped onto the ship's rail and stood with hands on his hips, calling back: "Yo! Garp! You're like a bad penny! Did you miss me?"
"Cut the crap! I'm here to arrest you, Roger!" Garp roared, casually grabbing a cannonball from nearby. His arm muscles bulged as he hurled it their way.
"Gu ha ha ha! That little toy isn't nearly enough!" Roger laughed without dodging.
Whooom—!
An invisible air wave exploded outward with him as the center.
At the same time, Garp emanated an equally terrifying aura.
Black-red lightning appeared from thin air between them, clashing and sparking violently, painting the sky an ominous dark hue.
The sea surface between the ships was torn by invisible pressure, the surging waters retreating to both sides as if even the ocean trembled at this legendary meeting.
The young people on board, including Shanks and Buggy, felt their hearts race and breathing become difficult under this Conqueror's Haki clash.
"Gu ha ha ha! Garp, you bastard, always make such a big entrance—afraid people won't know you're here?" Roger stood on the rail with his hands on his hips, laughing loudly.
"Quit yapping, Roger! I've been chasing you halfway across the Grand Line!" Garp grinned with his trademark booming voice. "Come quietly to Impel Down with me!"
"Gu ha ha ha! Let's see if you've got what it takes!"
The two men hurled bromantic banter across dozens of meters of ocean, trading "greetings" back and forth. The suffocating Haki pressure now seemed like their unique way of saying hello.
"Hey, Garp!" Gaban adjusted his sunglasses and shouted at Garp. "Since we've run into each other, by the old rules, you two go fight while we have a party? I can smell barbecue on your ship."
Hearing the word "party," Shanks and Buggy's eyes instantly lit up, and even the previously wary crew members showed anticipation.
"Ohhhhh!"
"Party party!"
After all, having parties with Marine Hero Garp wasn't their first time doing something this ridiculous.
But when Garp heard this, his smile stiffened. He rarely scratched his head with an embarrassed expression.
"Ah, well..." he stammered. "Sorry, that bastard Sengoku found out about our previous parties. He said if I keep going easy on you, he'll cancel my senbei supply for a whole year!"
At these words, both the Marines and Roger Pirates collectively turned to stone.
Rayleigh's mouth twitched, and he nearly lost his footing. Gaban's sunglasses slid down his nose. Shanks and Buggy gaped as if they could fit eggs in their mouths.
For senbei... the great Marine Hero, for mere rice crackers, was actually going to get serious with them?
"Gu ha ha ha!" After a brief silence, Roger laughed so hard he doubled over, tears nearly coming out. "Garp! You bastard... haven't changed a bit! Fine! If that's the case, let's have an honorable fight!"
"My thoughts exactly!" Garp roared, done with talking. His legs tensed, and he shot from the warship like a cannonball, leaping across the chasm torn by Haki.
"Men! Charge! Capture them and we'll have a feast tonight!"
"Yeah!!!"
The Marine soldiers responded with high morale, drawing weapons and preparing for boarding action.
"We're up too!" Roger gave the order, and the pirates on the Oro Jackson instantly blazed with fighting spirit, roaring as they charged forward.