"Oi! That's a lot of fresh apples, Gaban! Nice work!"
"No kidding. I just picked them myself! Thanks to a certain idiot captain, we're flat broke. If we don't grab some fruit to change up the flavor, we're all going to puke from eating fish!"
"What?! Are you complaining about the captain?! Oi, Rayleigh! Listen to this guy—he's out of line!"
On a small uninhabited island, near the shoreline, a pirate ship lay anchored. Groups of pirates moved back and forth into the forest—hunting, gathering, stocking up on provisions for the voyage ahead.
The flag fluttering above the ship bore a white skull with two sweeping golden mustaches.
The hull gleamed red.
There was no mistaking it.
This was the Oro Jackson, flagship of the infamous Roger Pirates, who ruled the New World.
And the man with a bounty of 2,860,000,000 Berries, the legendary pirate who rose from rookie to apex predator in record time—
Was currently being pinned to the ground by his own vice captain.
"And you've got the nerve to talk?!"
Rayleigh barked, hands on his hips like an exasperated housewife.
His golden hair gleamed under the sun, round glasses perched on his nose, a scar slashing across his right eye.
"If you hadn't gotten drunk and decided to 'cook a loving breakfast' for everyone—despite not knowing how to cook—and thrown every single ingredient into one pot, we wouldn't be in this mess!"
Not long ago, they had successfully raided a merchant convoy. The treasure and supplies should have sustained them comfortably for over a month.
Instead—
Roger, in a drunken burst of enthusiasm, had dumped the entire ship's rations into one enormous pot and boiled it into a black, bubbling sludge.
One of the newer crew members had forced himself to take a bite—
And immediately collapsed, foaming at the mouth.
If not for the ship's doctor, Crocus, that rookie might have gone down in history as the first crew member poisoned by his own captain.
After thoroughly beating Roger for his culinary crimes—
The crew's only option had been to survive on fish.
And for pirates who lived at sea—
Fish, ironically, was the last thing they wanted to eat every single day.
And yet—
The idiot was still grinning.
"Enough! Don't forget who the captain is!"
Roger leapt to his feet, face flushed with indignation.
But when he met the collective glare of his crew—
His forced authority shattered instantly.
Roger… had authority?
That was a good joke.
Eventually, tempers cooled.
They lit a bonfire on the island and began roasting freshly hunted meat.
Moments earlier, Roger had declared he would "never speak to them again."
The instant the aroma of grilled meat hit his nose—
All resentment evaporated.
He squeezed between Gaban and Rayleigh, tore off a chunk of meat, and devoured it happily.
The laughter and shouting of the crew filled the air.
This was the Roger Pirates' unique atmosphere.
The captain carried no oppressive authority.
Cream could be smeared on his face without consequence.
The first and second mates were no different.
It was a ship of camaraderie, not cruelty.
They were not like the savage pirates who terrorized civilians without thought.
But—
No matter how lighthearted they were—
They were still pirates.
"Ahh… I'm stuffed!"
Roger lay sprawled across the sand, his stomach swollen comically large.
Most of the crew followed suit.
After all—
A captain's personality shaped his crew.
Rayleigh alone remained upright, eating and drinking at a measured pace.
As vice captain, he was more like the true captain of the ship, handling all serious matters.
If they relied solely on Roger—
They'd starve within two days.
He tilted his head back and gulped down some sake.
Out of the corner of his eye—
He spotted something on the horizon.
A silhouette.
A ship.
Rayleigh's expression shifted.
He set aside the unfinished bottle, drew his sword, and rose to his feet.
"Up, everyone."
"Looks like the Marines have come calling."
The once carefree Roger Pirates instantly shifted gears at the mention of the Marines.
They rose to their feet with sharp efficiency, grabbing their weapons.
Roger, who had been sprawled lazily on the sand, sprang up and drew the supreme-grade blade(Saijo O Wazamono) at his waist—Ace.
His balloon-like stomach deflated back to normal within seconds.
"A warship with a dog-head prow… so it's Garp again, huh?"
"Wahahaha! It's been a while!"
Roger grinned, eyes blazing with excitement.
Rayleigh's eye twitched.
"A while?"
They'd seen each other less than a month ago.
Still, Rayleigh and Scopper Gaban's expressions grew serious.
Though only a Vice Admiral in rank, Garp's strength far exceeded the title.
He absolutely qualified for promotion to Admiral—he simply refused it.
And that monster, whose strength rivaled Roger himself, had chased them across half the Grand Line more than once.
Even the Roger Pirates—
When facing Garp—
Often ended up fleeing in frustration.
While they were still assessing the situation—
A cannonball exploded beside the Oro Jackson.
The distance between the two ships was enormous—well beyond the effective range of standard naval artillery.
But this?
They were used to it.
Aboard the Marine Warship
"Hey! Bring me fifty more cannonballs!"
Garp stood at the bow, laughing heartily.
He didn't even need to order twice.
Marines were already wheeling crates of cannonballs toward him.
Roldy stood nearby, watching.
Wearing nothing but a shirt, Garp picked up cannonballs one after another and hurled them like shot puts, relying purely on his monstrous physical strength.
"Old man, could you work on your aim a little? Cannonballs cost money, you know!"
Roldy glanced at the distant Oro Jackson—still pristine and untouched.
Every single shot had splashed harmlessly into the sea around it.
That aim was atrocious.
"Hah! Shut up! Watch my special move!"
Garp's face flushed slightly at the criticism.
Then he grinned smugly.
A Marine Major approached, carrying a heavy crate.
From within, he pulled out a thick iron chain and handed it to Garp.
"Oi, brat! Your Mō Mō no Mi can amplify things, right? Get over here and give me a hand!"
"You're thinking…?"
Roldy's eyes lit up instantly.
Back to the Roger Pirates
"Garp's aim is as terrible as ever," Gaban chuckled.
The tension eased slightly among the crew.
Then—
The laughter died.
From the horizon—
A cannonball came hurtling toward them.
But this was no ordinary cannonball.
It was bound in thick iron chains.
And its size—
Was comparable to half an island.
The smiles on every pirate's face froze solid.
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