The morning sun broke through the clouds, casting its warm light upon the messy beach. In a strange turn of events, pirates and Marines had achieved a kind of peaceful coexistence on this small stretch of sand.
Miller Pine had a piece of roasted fish caught in his large beard, and his mighty iron hammer was being used as a pillow by a young Marine. Both of them were snoring in sync. Colonel Mu Gulian's cigar had fallen into the sand, his pistol placed neatly beside him while he leaned against a rum barrel, completely passed out. Not far from them, Spencer's fancy suit was wrinkled and messy. Several Marine officers lay beside him, looking as if they had spent the night discussing everything from poetry to the philosophy of life before finally collapsing in a drunken heap. The entire beach smelled of burnt-out barbecue, sour rum, and the strong, sweaty scent of men.
Kyle was one of the few people still awake. He sat on the ship's figurehead with dark circles under his eyes, watching the unbelievable scene unfold before him. He was starting to understand that this so-called adventure was really just a group of passionate, tough men having a wild party. His Wave-Wave Fruit ability had a useful trick outside of battle; he could stimulate his brain with specific sound frequencies to keep himself from falling asleep. The only downside was that he had to watch the entire night unfold, from the initial shouting and fighting to everyone throwing their arms around each other like old friends, and finally, to them all passing out together.
His eyes scanned the beach, finally stopping on the center of the bonfire. There, the future Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, and the future Marine Hero, Monkey D. Garp, were sleeping with their heads next to each other in a very undignified pose, drool trickling from their mouths. Kyle felt a headache coming on. These two were supposed to be arch-rivals? They looked more like long-lost brothers.
"Ugh… water…" Jabba's quiet groan broke the morning silence. He struggled to sit up, rubbing his messy hair, which looked like a bird's nest. He looked around, confused, until his eyes landed on a large Marine sleeping peacefully with his rum barrel nearby. Jabba's eyes immediately turned red with anger.
"You bastard! Give me back my booze!"
His roar was like a battle horn.
"Who's making all that noise!"
"My head… it's splitting open!"
"Ah! My leg is asleep!"
The pirates and Marines slowly and unsteadily got to their feet, like zombies who had just been woken up. They stared blankly at the enemies in different uniforms standing next to them. The memories of their friendly bonding from the night before were fuzzy, but the deep-seated rivalry was already starting to return. In just a few seconds, the hazy, hungover atmosphere turned into a tense standoff.
"Kuhahaha… I slept so well!" Roger said, stretching his arms out wide. He then slapped Garp on the back with a loud thud.
"Oh… it's you, kid!" Garp woke up with a jolt from the slap. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and saw Roger. He grinned, a dangerous look in his eyes. "It's morning. Looks like your time is up!"
"I wouldn't be so sure! Maybe you're the one who's about to get sent running again, you jerk!" Roger shot back. The two of them stood up and faced each other, their eyes burning with the same fiery intensity.
Following the "friendly" exchange between their leaders, both sides quickly got into formation. The pirates backed away toward their ship, while the Marines formed their ranks. The harmony from the previous night was gone, replaced by a tense energy that crackled in the air. The new crew members, especially Nozdon and Isaac, looked completely overwhelmed. They followed the others back to the ship, their eyes darting between Roger and Garp, trying to understand how two men could go from sharing a drink one moment to wanting to kill each other the next.
"Alright, boys! Pack everything up! We're setting sail!" Roger shouted, waving his hand as if the menacing Marine fleet across from them wasn't even there.
"Mr. Garp! Should we attack them now?" a young Marine Lieutenant Commander asked nervously as he ran up to Garp.
Garp picked his nose and looked away from Roger. He glanced at his own men, who were still hungover and struggling to stand straight, and then waved his hand impatiently. "Attack with what? You want to get yourselves killed? Everyone, get back to the warship! We'll deal with them next time!"
"Yes, sir!"
And just like that, a battle that should have been legendary ended before it even began, simply because both commanders felt the timing wasn't right.
When the ships were about a hundred meters apart, the familiar ritual began once more.
"Roger—!" Garp stood at the bow of his warship, his voice booming loud enough to shake the sea. "The next time we meet, I'll throw you into Impel Down with my own two hands, you bastard!"
"Kuhahahahaha!" Roger stood on his own ship's bow, his laughter just as loud and unrestrained. "Go ahead and try, Garp! Just don't get taken out by some nobody before you get the chance!"
The sea breeze carried their words across the water, an exchange filled with a shared understanding that no one else could grasp.
Kyle stood behind Roger, listening to them with a twitching eye. "I know, I know, it's always the same thing," he muttered to himself. "It's like they're just checking in. Impel Down? More like a wedding chapel…"
Just as Kyle was complaining to himself, Garp's powerful voice rang out again, but this time, it was aimed directly at him.
"Hey! You, the kid over there!"
Kyle froze, a bad feeling rising in his chest. He looked up and saw Garp pointing right at him, a wide grin on his face that showed off his bright white teeth. His smile was so cheerful it was terrifying.
"Next time, I'm definitely dragging you to Marine Headquarters! So clean your neck and wait for me! Hahahaha!"
A strange silence fell over the Roger Pirates' ship. Everyone's head snapped toward Kyle. The older crew members were trying their best not to laugh, while the newer ones, like Nozdon, Isaac, and Punk Rock, stared in shock and disbelief.
"Pfft…" Jabba was the first one to break, bursting into laughter. "Hahahaha! Little Kyle, did you hear that? Garp called you out personally! He wants to 'arrest' you and take you back with him!"
"A special invitation from the Marines! That's a huge honor, Senior Kyle!" Miller Pine added, his deep voice booming across the deck.
"Why… why would Mr. Garp say that to Kyle?" Nozdon asked, completely confused. He couldn't understand why a Marine Vice-Admiral would be so focused on a young pirate.
Spencer adjusted his collar, a knowing smile on his face. "Perhaps, in Mr. Garp's eyes, Kyle is the only lost lamb on this ship that can still be 'saved'."
Kyle's face turned dark. Lost lamb? That old man should be worried about his own son, who was about to become a legendary revolutionary! And what was that about "clean your neck and wait"? That sounded way too weird!
Facing the teasing, curious, and shocked stares from his crewmates, Kyle felt his reputation as a "senior" member was somehow becoming stronger, but in the strangest way possible. He took a deep breath, faced the departing warship, and shouted back with all his strength, "I refuse! Go eat your rice crackers!"
His voice carried across the water on the wind. It was unclear if Garp heard him, but the Roger Pirates' ship erupted in laughter.
"Kuhahaha! Well said, Kyle!" Roger slapped Kyle on the shoulder, laughing so hard he was almost in tears.
Rayleigh smiled and shook his head. He walked over and handed Kyle a glass of orange juice. "You worked hard. It's not easy dealing with Garp's cannonballs and his… 'recruitment' at the same time."
Kyle took a large gulp of the orange juice, feeling a little better. He looked at his crewmates, who were still laughing, and sighed. During yesterday's fight, he had used his "Sound Slash: Exploding Phoenix Cry" to destroy Garp's cannonballs and his "Vortex: Azure Dragon Twister" to disrupt the Marine fleet. He had definitely proven his strength to the new members. Now, Garp's shout-out had solidified his "senior" status in a completely different way. It was just a little… embarrassing.
"Hey, Kyle." The quiet swordsman, Isaac, had walked over to him and was holding out a clean cloth.
"Hmm?"
"Yesterday… you were very strong," Isaac said simply. His eyes showed the pure respect one swordsman has for another strong fighter.
"Amazing! Senior! Take me with you the next time you fight!" the large man Nozdon said, his face full of admiration.
Seeing the trust and recognition in his crewmates' eyes, Kyle felt that all the hard work and embarrassment had been worth it. He took the cloth from Isaac, wiped the sweat from his face, and his usual sly, fox-like smile returned. The journey had been a bit strange, but at least he had secured his reputation.
"It's party time!" Roger's roar echoed across the deck once again.
"Captain! We just finished one!"
"We're celebrating getting away from Garp again! Isn't that worth celebrating?!"
"Oh! Oh! Oh!"
It seemed the tradition of having parties for no reason was a core part of this crew. Kyle put a hand to his forehead in defeat, but he couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face.
This is so damn happy.